Or, more accurately, Gob.
The boy burned down the house last night at the Manhattan Children's Theater.
We were doing Jack and the Beanstalk and Matt, in the title role of The Beanstalk, was just extraordinary.
It was like, I don't know, there was an actual beanstalk talking and dancing and singing up there.
That word is looking very weird on my screen.
If you've been following along at home, then you know that Matt is doing The Event, a one-man thing I wrote and directed as part of the undergroundzero festival. We were scheduled to perform at Collective: Unconscious, but what with a sewage situation compounded by an unhelpful landlord, the festival has moved to The Flea and the Manhattan Children's Theater, 52 White Street between Broadway and Church.
Two more shows, tonight and Saturday, 7:30. It's only an hour, you bastards. Magic tricks at the end, swear to Gob.
Thanks to all who showed last night and huge thanks to the lovely and long-suffering Caroline Patterson, making her professional New York stage debut as The Unseen Stage Manager, sombrero and all.
See, if you see the show you'd know what the hell that last sentence was all about.
Easy summer day today. Lunch with Tom Berger to talk about Equity Fights Aids and the League of Independent Theater. Writing the second episode of The Postmen. Everyone is liking the pilot, so I'm moving on.
Come down tonight and see the show and afterwards we can drink and lie to each other late into the night. Come down even if you're in Winnipeg (Erez) or Arlesly (Scampers) or wherever you may be.
That's why god made airplanes.