I live in New York City. This becomes clear to me when I pay my high rent every month. When I pay high anything every day. When I lug my groceries and my laundry some blocks. But it is also clear to me when I walk to work through Central Park and when I leave the office in the evening and meet a friend for a drink and a Broadway play. I am still amazed by this access. I just love it. May the novelty never wear off.
We went to see Irish playwright Conor McPherson's "The Seafarer" tonight. Male anger and isolation like what I saw in Pinter's "The Homecoming" a few weeks ago. Plus a hell of a lot more alcohol! Booze and chat. I could go on and on and on and on and on about this. We Irish love our drink. It was so odd seeing the set with the linoleum worn away revealing the older linoleum underneath. And the morning light coming up through the window as dawn came. I KNEW that place exactly. I knew those people. That really struck me. I was in that house at one time. I knew that.
And the actors were amazing. Like my friend said, "We have not seen great, great plays this season, but we have seen great performances." This is true. Ian McShane and Eve Best in "The Homecoming." And those actors tonight. And Deanna Dunnagan in the Steppenwolf Production of "August: Osage County."
When the theatre let out many other houses were emptying and whole seas of humanity with different playbills in hand were all mingling on the streets. This is part of the theatre experience for me in New York. I also love going outside at intermission and if the theatre across the street or next door has a similarly timed intermission I love seeing people pour out of there. At a risk of a reader eyeroll, I love the collective experience of theatre here. It is part of why I am here. It is part of why I am here.
I got back to my brownstone apartment and climbed the stairs, checked my mail and took off my shoes. I put my keys and wallet in the upper left hand drawer. This is my set. This is the end of Act II for today. Not a lot of drama. Nice.
And Curtain.
We went to see Irish playwright Conor McPherson's "The Seafarer" tonight. Male anger and isolation like what I saw in Pinter's "The Homecoming" a few weeks ago. Plus a hell of a lot more alcohol! Booze and chat. I could go on and on and on and on and on about this. We Irish love our drink. It was so odd seeing the set with the linoleum worn away revealing the older linoleum underneath. And the morning light coming up through the window as dawn came. I KNEW that place exactly. I knew those people. That really struck me. I was in that house at one time. I knew that.
And the actors were amazing. Like my friend said, "We have not seen great, great plays this season, but we have seen great performances." This is true. Ian McShane and Eve Best in "The Homecoming." And those actors tonight. And Deanna Dunnagan in the Steppenwolf Production of "August: Osage County."
When the theatre let out many other houses were emptying and whole seas of humanity with different playbills in hand were all mingling on the streets. This is part of the theatre experience for me in New York. I also love going outside at intermission and if the theatre across the street or next door has a similarly timed intermission I love seeing people pour out of there. At a risk of a reader eyeroll, I love the collective experience of theatre here. It is part of why I am here. It is part of why I am here.
I got back to my brownstone apartment and climbed the stairs, checked my mail and took off my shoes. I put my keys and wallet in the upper left hand drawer. This is my set. This is the end of Act II for today. Not a lot of drama. Nice.
And Curtain.
No comments:
Post a Comment