When I was running Friday night around 8:00, I noticed an unusually strong police presence in the park. There was even a helicopter, criss-crossing the northern part of the park near that last killer hill, flying low enough to the ground that its searchlight could actually like... be on you. When I got to the Grand Army Plaza entrance, there were even more cars, including some unmarked black sedans with sirens on the dash that I'm pretty sure were detectives' cars. Anyway, a whole bunch of cops and cop-like people who poking around in some bushes near the head of the big meadow with flashlights and batons. I didn't see a body, but... you know.
On Sunday I went to go see Lee Papa's Year of Living Rudely, as part of the NYC Fringe Theater Festival. It was so gross and hot on the way there, but when I got out of the subway station, it was fucking pouring. I was totally soaked by the time I got to Dixon Place -- which turned out not to be air conditioned, which was actually pretty fortunate, considering. So, the show. It was okay. It wasn't great. Prof. Papa is not much of a monologuist, which is ironic considering he's a Drama Professor. He basically oversold every line, and he's got this weird fruity voice that sounds like he's trying to cover up a southern accent or something. On the plus side, some of the new material (the show was 50% stuff from the 'blog), especially the audience participation stuff, was pretty funny, and apparently there were supposed to be blow-up dolls and sex toys on stage with him, but the director said something about them being damaged / stolen, so. You know.
I'm gonna get flak for saying this, I know, but I do feel like I'm getting sick. At least I'm doing better than kitty.
Reading some David Eddings that I borrowed from Razor; I remember all my friends getting real into these books when we were in 8th grade. I'm finally leveling the playing field, by Aldur!
No comments:
Post a Comment