I know. Shh, shhh . . . it's okay. Everything's going to be . . . okay now. I'm back.
I am so sorry I left you for so many days without an update on my life and times. You must have felt hollow inside, devoid of hope and desperate for some word of me. Perhaps you even considered desperate measures in the interim, such as calling or emailing me. Well, I think we can all say with a sigh of relief that it did not, ultimately, come to anything so drastic as all that. Though some did text message me. I won't name names here. We all do things from time to time that seem reasonable at the time, yet in retrospect make us woozy. And I won't be held responsible for anyone's wooziness.
It is, in a way, apt that I abandoned the 'blog for a good four days. Not merely because my readership seems to drop drastically in the period between Thursday and Tuesday (What is it about midweek that makes folks flock to me weblog?), but because in this particular case I did nothing remotely theatrical. I didn't even think about theatre that much, if you can believe it. It's true. I would venture to say I made not one allegory betwixt theatre (or acting) and anything else. What could possibly inspire such aberrant behavior? Let me put it this way:
I have an apartment now.
Oh yes. The deed is done, if you'll forgive the pun. It's not exactly what I was looking for, but it's pretty durn close. A "cozy" studio (for $800 a month, it can be as cozy as it wants) on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, just a hop and a skip (no additional jump necessary) away from southeast Prospect Park. It'll do for a year, and hey: It may do for a good bit longer, depending on how things go.
All that remains is to actually move. Then my thirtieth birthday will follow hard and fast upon. Then I'll be in Italy. Then Pennsylvania.
Hm.
Maybe I should get used to keeping up the theatrical allegory whilst doing a million other things. Like the training sequence (gonna need a montage) in Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins.
You know packing to move is kind of like acting . . .
I am so sorry I left you for so many days without an update on my life and times. You must have felt hollow inside, devoid of hope and desperate for some word of me. Perhaps you even considered desperate measures in the interim, such as calling or emailing me. Well, I think we can all say with a sigh of relief that it did not, ultimately, come to anything so drastic as all that. Though some did text message me. I won't name names here. We all do things from time to time that seem reasonable at the time, yet in retrospect make us woozy. And I won't be held responsible for anyone's wooziness.
It is, in a way, apt that I abandoned the 'blog for a good four days. Not merely because my readership seems to drop drastically in the period between Thursday and Tuesday (What is it about midweek that makes folks flock to me weblog?), but because in this particular case I did nothing remotely theatrical. I didn't even think about theatre that much, if you can believe it. It's true. I would venture to say I made not one allegory betwixt theatre (or acting) and anything else. What could possibly inspire such aberrant behavior? Let me put it this way:
I have an apartment now.
Oh yes. The deed is done, if you'll forgive the pun. It's not exactly what I was looking for, but it's pretty durn close. A "cozy" studio (for $800 a month, it can be as cozy as it wants) on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, just a hop and a skip (no additional jump necessary) away from southeast Prospect Park. It'll do for a year, and hey: It may do for a good bit longer, depending on how things go.
All that remains is to actually move. Then my thirtieth birthday will follow hard and fast upon. Then I'll be in Italy. Then Pennsylvania.
Hm.
Maybe I should get used to keeping up the theatrical allegory whilst doing a million other things. Like the training sequence (gonna need a montage) in Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins.
You know packing to move is kind of like acting . . .
4 comments:
OK, so work does not have the latest version of flash so I can't see your apartment, but you know about the new google maps right? For five cities in the US, you can now get down to street view level. Google has been talking about doing this for months now. So it seems that New York is totally covered, and in fact Flatbush in Brookland, right next to the Southwest part of the Park is blue, which means I should be able to see it, but alas, stupid lack of good flash means I have to wait till I get home. Send me the address so I can be sure huh?!
So congrats, and be prepared for comments from people about the color of your front door.
A) I can't remember the address yet, and I have not the keys nor the lease in hand. So say a prayer for me.
B) Perhaps a more trusting soul would post his or her home address on the world wide interweb, but I am spiteful and cynical, and refuse.
C) That's pretty damn cool.
Palooka: when one is asked for to make available the physical address in which that one is planning to store his most valuable type possessions, not to mention his well collected folderal; that one should in fact pause and recall that before the days of blog there were other ways that friend type acquaintances had for which to in fact communicate.
Ring a ding ding baby!
"So congrats, and be prepared for comments from people about the color of your front door."
That might have been the line that led me to believe you were requesting that I post my address to the wide world via the web. Perhaps I was overly presumptuous.
And YOU'RE a palooka!
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