Another full day lies ahead in Rat City.
Morning meeting with the soon-to-be married Abby Marcus. LIT work and bacon. Then back to the Museum to polish the Postmen pilot and figure out what the hell is going on with gmail. Afternoon tech for The Event, opening tomorrow night and then back home.
Busy, but not crazed.
Thinking this morning, for some reason, about the early days of the Fringe. Probably just the time of the year. Eight years ago, July would rush by as Elena and I and an irregular army of volunteers would scramble towards August. Certain disaster and overwhelming odds were our daily companions and the only way to get through it all was to focus on the immediate task.
And a few years before that, back in 1997, I remember running around the neighborhood with my old partner Aaron Beall. Aaron and I would bop in and out of anyone's office, hustling the Festival, selling the Big Idea. We had our dog-and-pony show down cold, making the deals while Elena sat back home in Hell's Kitchen, figuring out how it was all going to actually work.
Used to think I was really good at it and I guess I used to be.
You get a little older and you realize that if you spend all day making deals, you don't have anything but a bunch of deals at the end of the day. You spend a little time making friends, making art, hell, even making out and the nights aren't so cold.
Need a turn-out tomorrow night and through the weekend for The Event.
Tickets and info at www.weird.org.
It's funny and deep and there are magic tricks at the end. It's only an hour, you bastards.
And that's my morning hustle.