Friday, May 30, 2008

tonight, tonight

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.

Big fun.

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?

Thank you.

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.


Ann said...

They made you stay up until 2 a.m.????? Oh, the humanity! Did you tell them the joke about Ed and Bill the horse racing brothers? I'm going to spring that one on Jim while we're walking the dog up the big hill this afternoon.

John said...

Tell Jim the long version. The one you heard was very abbreviated. Punch line works much better if hours have passed.

You're not actually going for a laugh with this one, the real brass ring is the stunned silence, the questioning look, maybe the punch in the arm.

Yeah, 2:00 AM. That's about when you and I got started.

Still hurting, me. Lots of juice and darkened rooms for a few days.

Ann said...

And this is why I'm only invited to visit people once a year or so. Takes about that long to forget how punishing the whole Ann Experience can be if you haven't properly trained for it.

Tell you what, though: that was hands-down the best drunken late night conversation I've had in a good long while. And the soundtrack kicked ass, too. It was worth driving home all squinting and hungover approximately six hours after going to bed.