Blink and It's September

(the picture is a turn-of-the-century Labor Day parade in Buffalo, NY)

I feel a bit like a Mack truck ran over me then backed up and made another go at it.

That about sums up my weekend.

It's times like these when I am reminded that I am, indeed, thirty. I can no longer survive on adrenaline and coffee alone. Nights with five hours sleep catch up with me. I get those dark circles under my eyes. My skin gets pasty.

Pretttyyyyy.

The reading on Sunday went extremely well. We played at the Millennium Stage which is a totally bizarre space. It is basically one end of the great hall of the Kennedy Center, so it is kind of cacophonous and expansive and conducive to nothing that remotely resembles an intimate moment. The songs played extremely well there, the scenes - not so much. It is just too big, so unless you are in the first couple of rows, any nuance is pretty much lost on you.

But we had a full house, and people didn't get up and leave during the show, so we must not have sucked. You can actually see a webcast of the performance here.

The sound is better than it was live -- watching it there we lost some of the dialogue at times, but the webcast seemed to pick it all up. The balance isn't so hot - we lose the band at times - but you can make out all of the lyrics, which for me is always the priority.

This show has really grown on me. Shawn (the writer) and I are chomping at the bit to get a fully produced performance, we are just not sure where and with what means.

Saturday night, after our show I ate pseudo thai food in Georgetown at Bangkok Joes (totally chi-chi yuppie rendition of Thai) but I will say my green curry was tasty and pretty spicy to boot. After that I crashed. We had plans to attend one of my actor's - for the show, show, not the reading - post wedding parties (he was married that morning - by the evening they were throwing a huge bash) and I just, simply, couldn't, do it. I had hit a wall. The warm coconut milk set in, I was in a singha daze, and all I could do was crawl into a bed and sleep.

Sleep.

The next day I had rehearsal for the show, show I am working on. The recent groom presented himself exceptionally well, considering he had made one of the most important life decisions one can make not 24 hours before we were meeting and wrestling our way through this kooky script once again, but that's actors for you. Life. Show. Life. Show. Blur. Blur. Blur.

It was a productive session. We will see how that all goes.

That night I ate at another new restaurant (new for me, sorta new for DC) and was pleased that Radius Pizza actually does manage to resemble a New York pizzeria experience. Like a Grimaldi's or Patsy's or John's (not like a slice shop) with family style salads and thin crust pies. I would return, for sure.

Because yes, it is all about food. It is always, all, about, food.

Afterwards the plan was to take a nap, sleep off the pizza a bit, and head to a friend's 40th Birthday Dance Party.

I never made it.

How shamelessly lame does that make me? Two missed parties in two days. Old. Lame. Tired.

Sleep.

Ah well. There will always be other parties.