Off to Chicago this morning to see A Red Orchid's Fatboy. CNN just told me it was -4 degrees in Chicago. Negative four and that's without the wind chill. Holy gamoley, it's cold outside.
Lovely moment last night. Elena K. Holy, our old partner in crime and art and all other things, was in the neighborhood for some meetings so we all met up at the Parkside Lounge. Then we bought the cheapest bottle of champagne that Tony sells, grabbed three paper coffee cups from the bodega and stood in front of the building site that was the Theatorium. Toasts and memories, R.I.P. Theatorium.
And while I'm at it, why can no one pronounce Elena's name? I've heard countless variations over the years, so here's the phonetic tip:
Uh-lee-nuh Holy. Holy, not Holly. Uhleenuh Holy. Not Uh-lay-na Holly.
Good to get that off my chest.
Piece in the paper today about how his Republican rivals can barely disguise their dislike of the Mittbot. Well...
He's a robot from outer space, after all. Sent here from some superior, technologically advanced civilization. Would you want to hang out and have a cup of coffee with something like that? Course not.
Bill Coelius had to drop out of the Overlord Project, which is a crying shame. But into the breach steps young Chris Yeatts, one of the city's true unknown heavy-weight actors. Worked with Chris up in Maine a few years back, became the backbone of a very strong ensemble. Really can't wait to get in the room with all of these people and see what this thing is.
Negative four without the wind chill. I'm going to go buy a parka. And a dogsled.