we'll always have python

waking up and sitting down to think, this morning: page three of my folded setlist from thursday, and the playbill from friday, tossed on my desk last night; one of my three tiny tarot cards drawn from the universal deck just now, and my trusty kindle. (click to enlarge if you really must see the setlist.)

it's been an incredible wonderful weekend, and it's only saturday morning. all yesterday, i wandered around dazed, strong residual from the mind-blowing performance the night before. i got lost in my own neighborhood, reoriented, and then forgot where i was going. i was in another dimension.

i pulled it together to meet mark and moriah at the tux shop though. he went for try-out and pickup. the shawl collar white dinner jacket is the stepping-out tux style he chose for senior prom: oh and it's so great. he came out of the fitting room transformed into rick blaine, the proprietor of a cafe casino in casablanca. i expected captain reynaud to appear at any moment and for mark to tell him he came to casablanca "for the waters." "but we're in the middle of the desert!" "i was misinformed." or for peter lorre to come in and ask him to hide the letters of transit. for rick to look into ilsa's eyes and tell her "we'll always have paris." yup. mark walked out of that dressing room looking like humphrey bogart. or maybe bond. james bond. he's got superb style, true sartorial sophistication, mark does.)

here's lookin' at you, kid.


(moriah snuck up on mark for me to get a cell phone photo)

fleetwood mac was my thursday and my friday, and by friday at a quarter past seven i was ready to chill. i grabbed my flannel bathrobe, my fuzzy slippers, and slipped into a cliche, eating sorbet from the container and watching oprah on tivo. then the phone rang, moriah with a bad connection saying "do you want to go to see Spamalot at the golden gate theater? but it starts at 8." you know, i only have two modes of dress, really: ratted out jeans, giants t-shirts, and then, black evening wear for the opera. i was ready in two seconds, moriah's family pulled up in their mom-van (they just happened to be in the neighborhood) and fred her dad steve-mcqueened it up 101 past potrero hill and into the TL theater district, valet parked, sent migraine-afflicted thea home in a taxi (thus the spare ticket) and we were all seated well before the lights dimmed. *That* was a performance, even before the curtain rose. and what a silly, silly lot of spam. eric idle's book and mike nichol's production are brilliant. if you can, go.

mark stopped home just now to drop off the wrist corsage for safekeeping in the fridge until tomorrow afternoon. it's lovely, exquisite really, just like moriah.

excellent weekend already, spontaneous fun, a five day that started on thursday and won't be over till monday- and it's only saturday morning...

all in all, things really do work out for the best;

"you'll see it's all a show, keep 'em laughing as you go,
just remember that the last laugh is on you-"

and-

(sing along with me)

"always look on the bright side of life
always look on the bright side of life ... "

sir edward ramsay, if you're reading: we'll always have python.