Sitting in the Parkside last night with Mel and Mark, in from New Zealand. Friends we met in Edinburgh years ago, Mark is a TD savant and works at a festival in Auckland, Mel now works for some huge commercial theater concern down there. She's in town shopping for musicals, he has the unwelcome task of loading in some massive show at Lincoln Center this weekend and here's today's twist:
The set didn't arrive.
They're building it from scratch, curtain is Friday night.
Ah, live theater.
So we're scheming over Scotch and Brooklyn lager:
Mel loves screwmachine/eyecandy and Mark loves Fatboy. We get Marnie in Adelaide to pay for flights, we play the Adelaide Festival in February, sell the shows to the Sydney Opera House sometime in March, keep heading east and play New Zealand in April. I can just about double-cast the shows so we can travel with six or eight, counting stage management.
We haven't been to Australia since 2004 and we've never been to New Zealand.
And I hear them Kiwis know how to live.
Strange not to be in Edinburgh right now, the festival has officially kicked off.
Strange but not weird, feels right and mature somehow. We'll be there in two weeks, flying out on the 15th and showing a concert version of Captain Overlord's Folly.
I'm getting phone calls and emails from people:
Where are you? Meet me at the pub.
Edinburgh is the big tent, the yearly bazaar where all the lost souls and pilgrims of world theater gather in August to drink and tell each other lies. It will be wonderful to be there and see everyone, but I'm liking holing up here on the Lower East Side this August, quiet with Nan and the Bunny, working on The Invitation.
Rose and Damn Ann both get to go home again, or they can go to each other's homes if they like, up to them. The Caucasian Cattle-Call is indeed Kool and the Gang's Celebrate.
In the event of a natural disaster, they should just play that song out of a PA mounted to a truck and have the truck drive slowly to the safety zone. You'd have a 95 percent evacuation rate, people wouldn't even know they were evacuating, they'd just think they were getting down to the music, swaying and finger-snapping behind that truck.