That's when the real fun begins.
Pretty good ceremony, very good party. You can read who won what in the Voice, they had some people live blogging all through it up in the balcony at Webster Hall. Bill Coelius, Matt Oberg, Liz and Greg and I stood behind the blogger whispering our names over and over, spelling them out, trying to get subliminal on them.
Don't think it worked.
Powerful moment of silence imposed by Michael Feingold, remembering the dead. I thought of the women Nancy and I lost this year. None were of the theater, but by god they all supported it.
Today's the first anniversary of Nancy's sister's death.
Unbelievable, still.
Still need to find a kick-ass Hispanic actress, 45-60, for a reading the day after tomorrow. Sometimes I can be quite the moron. All suggestions welcome.
And Ann's drinking white lightining while Lori and Rose fight over who gets the front pig's feet and who gets the backs. (Backs are better, ladies, relatively speaking.)
Fort Worth Hambone Blues is sung by Johnny Gimble, Old Black Mountain Saturday Night is by Joe Maphis, the screwball I threw at you Conversation with a Mule is by the great Arthur Smith and Hot Damn Mama, Come Home Tonight will someday, Gob willing, be recorded by Scrappy Jack and his Irregular Army featuring Eureka Candy on the triangle.
The giveaway was that if you're playing bluegrass you can't cuss.
Mama don't allow that around here.
John Clancy
About Me
- John
- John Clancy is a partner in Clancy Productions, a critically acclaimed international theatrical touring and production company. He is an Obie award winning director, the Founding Artistic Director of Present Company, and a founding Artistic Director of The New York International Fringe Festival. He serves as the Executive Director of the League of Independent Theater, off-off Broadway's advocacy organization. He lives on the Lower East Side with his wife, Nancy Walsh.
13 comments:
Ann wins again. While Ann is getting drunk on "spirits", Rose and I will be creating pig's feet soap.
Rose get a permission slip and come on down to Eureka. Hang a left at Six Flags and your there.
Yes ladies "pig's feet soap" is the new anti-ageing secret. Smells like bacon, attracting all sorts of gentlemen callers. (and possibly dogs and bears)
I can be the before picture and Rose is the after.
Get ready John and Ann, we got christmas presents!!!!
Rose, we will need t-shirts.
I will be pitching a "pig's feet candy bar" to Hersheys.
Ann, I trust you to create a new cocktail. The swizzle stick can look like a piece of bacon. Or a mini pig's foot that we can polish.
John, you are the focus group.
Or...hear me out on this, Lori. I think you'll like it.
How about if I come down there to Eureka and You, Rose and I hurl the pig parts directly into the garbage and just drink our faces off together?
I've already invented the best pig-related treat in the universe, anyway. No more callers, folks, we have a winner:
Pig Candy
Take thick sliced, hickory smoked bacon. Coat the slices on both sides with dark brown sugar and finely chopped pecans, drape them on a wire rack, put the wire rack over a baking sheet and bake them for 20 minutes at 350 degrees.
Take them out and attempt to let them cool to lukewarm before eating. You won't be able to, but try.
I make this every year for my annual Superbowl party. Two years ago, Prince played the gig. Last year we had Tom Petty...they all come for the Pig Candy.
And you're all invited next year.
All of the ideas are making me hungry and nauseous at the same time! Last night I had almonds stuffed in figs that were wrapped in bacon. Delicious. It's called "Datil" in some sort of awesome other language.
Datil.
The name of my first child.
So I dunno if "Pig Candy" is gonna cut it Anne. You gotta get a bit more creative than that. Maybe like "Grinning Gipper of Death Candy".
Oh wait, we used that one already.
Hmm.
Well. We'll think of something.
Eureka what Lori? Eureka, California? Eureka, Texas? I am unfamiliar with this Eureka. Is it perhaps in Queens?
Wherever it is, I call the Pig Candy, and the Headcheese Souffle!
Pig Candy tastes like slices of God, Rose. You're gonna have to trust me on that.
BACON!
BACON!
Bacon, man.
Come on, that's all there is, in the end. That's the whole point, right? Eating more bacon?
I won't be that focused a focus group, I don't think, but if it means eating bacon, I'm in.
Rose, I live in Eureka, Missouri. Just 30 miles west of St. Louis.
Ann, once again your right. Screw the pig stuff and c'mon down to Eureka.
While your here, I can show you and Rose all of John's stomping grounds.
Like the cig store, the bush where he hid his booze from his mom. The other bush that my sister and I would move his booze to... and crack up watching him try to look for it. I'll put a whole tour together for ya.
I want pig candy!!!
Lies.
I would hide extra food to feed the orphans. Food from my own plate.
Such a good boy.
That Eureka Dome is going to get fixed, some day, you know.
And you'll just be trapped in there with nothing but your candy and your family to save you.
Yeah.
So.
I have no memory of the booze bush, which argues towards the existence of the booze bush, I suppose.
I feel for you, John. I had to hide booze from my mom, too! She'd drink it all if she found it...
Bacon and moonshine for everyone!
Now that's the redneck prayer if I ever I heard it.
"Lord, grant bacon and moonshine to all yer children.
Ayyy-men.
Now. Less go killuss sum Yankees."
Would you like to know what I'm doing Right Now?
Sure you would!
Dancing around my house, listening to Little Willie John. Dog thinks I've gone crazy, neighbors will be pounding on the door soon - either wanting me to turn it down or burn them the cd.
Life is beautiful, don't you ever let anyone tell you any different.
Praise Bacon, Amen.
Amen.
Got me some Van Morrison wailing here, largest soul ever to come out of Ireland, which is saying something big.
Alright - you play Van, I've got Robbie Robertson on up here.
You know what we need, John? A satellite radio show.
I'd listen AND contribute!
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