Friday Sushi Hana with Julio, his student at MICA Joel, and Yo!Adrienne. I had the mercury roll with e. coli starter.
Somehow our conversation derailed from the lofty plateaux of Sargent paintings and fresco techniques to farts as "molecules of poop" and thence to far worse territory: buttplugs, accidents of the fecal variety, and US politics.
After, we scurried off to Mick O'Shea's for a Move Like Seamus original line-up show. Don't get us wrong: we love the new Seamus, and dig the current lineup and the new crunchier sound. But a chance to hear the old set-list with cello and accomplished rock guitar soloing is rare, and we were full of nostalgia for the days when we could count on a crew of ten or fifteen stout childless souls to show up and drink themselves into oblivion with us. Alas, we were tardy and missed their signature rendition of I am the Walrus.
We had a wedding reception to attend Saturday, the wedding having already taken place in the South Pacific. A nice time, but we left early and sneakily during a video presentation; Cha was exhausted, and had been through a miserable allergen attack earlier.
A snippet of conversation with an off-off Broadway actress at our table:
Gentleman to my right: So I hear you've got two lead parts coming up?
Actress: Yes, and I'm very excited. One is about a Japanese American woman and her daughter by a Japanese woman playwright. It's all psychology, with lots of the superego.
Me: Really? How so?
Actress: Well, there's not just the ego of the characters, but more than that, like extra ego.
Me: (choking politely on my portobello in WD40)
Gentleman to my right: And the other gig?
Actress: It's the best! A musical with really awesome music including notes and choruses. It's likely to be the penultimate theater experience if you go!
Now I languish at the Service Desk, my last Sunday at work for the forseeable future.