Found out yesterday where I'll be on Election Day this year, Gob willing.
Performing in a pub in Belfast.
Life stays weird.
And got a call from 1986 yesterday afternoon.
Dallas Alice Ferguson Boyd, my college sweet-heart was in town, hanging out in Soho with her teen-aged kids. We sat at Cafe Miro on lower Broadway for an hour as if twenty years had been a day. She's a big yoga mogul out in Portland, Oregon now, professionally blissed out, which seems like a good life from this perch.
Memorizing lines today and then paying a professional clown to teach Matt Oberg how to balance a chair on his chin this evening.
Strange sentence, all true.
And Damn Ann wins any triple-decker sandwich she wants, courtesy of the Museum, for knowing her godfathers. Yes, Steve Miller learned to play the guitar at the feet of the master, Les Paul, in the by-gone days of the 50s out in the suburban sprawl of East Texas.
Now I've got to fly like an eagle to the gym.