it'll be you and me up in the trees

Long time no post. Especially for me, the little internet Queen Bee that I be.

This long, difficult summer is finally coming to a close. The first inklings of fresh cold have blown in on New York. I no longer drip like a faucet of sweat on the way to work, and freeze when I get in the building. I have moved to El Barrio - aka Spanish Harlem - with Boss from the show (instead of Daisy D). She was set up there already, with exposed brick walls and two bathrooms (!!), very close to Mama and Bro. I think the pairing, as roommates, is going to be mighty fruitful - especially once Verizon stops being a phone company and starts being helpful (i.e. gets our internet working). We'll be working as a pair this year, both in theatre school and in 'netland, with Retroscena as the mouth and The Photo Album as the eyes of our cliquey little drama world.

Our cliquey little drama world is slowly reassembling, as people return from their vacations and bread jobs to find new places and kick out their subletters. Last night, Boss and I had our fellow classmate who is just the sweetest, toothiest, clean-scrubbed Cali boy, over to the new place (which is jammed full of my unpacked boxes). Boss and Cali cooked dinner (God bless them) as I attempted organization. We filled each other in on the summer thus far, and then the conversation took a turn into last year. Cali grinned and giggled as Boss and I bitched. At one point, I stumbled into territory I thought was a bit on the Too Much Information side.

Me: Oh, I'm so sorry. TMI.
Cali: No way, man. We've all been in those classrooms together. There is no such thing as too much information anymore.

This is the scary scary truth.



Before I came to NP, before I really began directing, before my independence as an artist was really declared, I used to go to Fordham at Lincoln Center. My freshman first-semester acting teacher, and gateway to the world of theatrical higher education was Larry Sacharow, head of the department, and an all-around fascinating character. The more out-there you were in his class, the more he loved you. I was only absent once towards the very end of term (and it was an early bugger of a class) and when I returned, he said to me: "How strange of you not to come to class. Don't do that ever again." Other people missed out, but I never did...I was surprised that he minded so much. Excepting major illnesses, I haven't missed any acting classes again, ever.

I am sorry that I left Fordham in such a hurry, and I'm sorry that I was too much of a fraidy cat to go back and say goodbye to the faculty. Larry was diagnosed with leukemia this summer and passed away very suddenly. The lesson I have learned here is that I must have the courage to stand behind my choices without burning the bridge away. Now I will never have the opportunity to tell Larry how wonderful it was to be his student, and how terrifically funny and brilliant I found him.

His achievements, of which there are many, are listed here. RIP Mr. Sacharow.



I'm so looking forward to September, where hopefully, there will be beginnings instead of so many endings.