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.
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2 comments:
"Yoga mogul" is officially the BEST title ever.
I thought I was going to be in NYC on Friday, but that turned out not to be true. Then I thought I was going to be there the following weekend...also not true.
I realize that this makes me a terrible groupie, and I feel shame. I can get you a doctor's note, though - would that help at all?
Doctor of what, exactly?
No worries. And yeah, Yoga Mogul is second only to Drug King in my book.
Of course, it's a very bad book.
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