Won't be just any night.
We're rumbling with the Jets and Tony and me are running away...
That's not it.
Tonight, 9:30 at the fabulous People's Improv Theater, the PIT itself, 154 W. 29th Street, 2nd Floor, the multi-talented Matt Oberg (he of the mean streets of Westchester)speaks an hour and five minutes of entirely memorized words in front of whoever shows up. It's The Event, the first public showing of this strange, strange new theater work/thing that I wrote down and asked Matt to learn.
Looks like they're going to do a production of Fatboy on the island of Malta. I was excited until Steve Kovacs told me that the currency in Malta is falcon talons, beaks and feathers. No actual money. Just falcon parts.
Can anyone break a beak?
Dave Calvitto (the dago limey), and his date Katherine (the British teacher from Michigan) forced me to stay up until 2:00 AM last night, pouring whiskey down my throat and insisting that I tell them my deep opinions and cherished beliefs about everything in this here world.
Bad companions. My mother warned me. Just can't trust those wop Brits.
Come to the show tonight or I'll know, finally, that you don't really love me or the American theater or my mother. Or your mother.
We're going to stomp those Jets, man.