Jere-Rigged

Important Safety Tip

When you order sex toys or porn of any kind that is to be delivered, no matter how convenient it is, do not have them send it to your office.

And when you do have such things delivered to your place of business, do not call up and harangue the folks in the mailroom when you discover that your package was signed for over a week ago and you cannot find it.

Because when you do this, the mailroom guys research the package and, in the process, find out the name of the retailer that sent it. And, chances are, this emporium has a name that can in no way be mistaken for "Amazon" or "Barnes and Noble."

And then you'll be embarrassed when someone from the mailroom finds the package--in your own office, where it was delivered the day it arrived at the company. And you'll be even more embarrassed when your sex life and proclivities become fodder for much speculation, along with the attendant laughter and derision, in the mailroom, where nearly everyone in the company must stop in at least once a day.

And if you happen to be a 50+ year old woman near the top of the limited corporate ladder at your office, yeah...that's just way too much embarrassment for any one person in a single day.

I'm just sayin'.

Birthday Boy

My Birthday Gathering on Monday night was loads of fun. The evening started at Caliente Cab Company in the West Village where Amy and Adam and I enjoyed a delicious dinner of Mexican food and tequila-laced beverages. Mmmm...

Then Amy left us and Adam and I adjourned to the Duplex, where we were soon joined by David, Michael, Jeff, Matt, Fred, Mike, Peter, Dana, and Dan. If I left anyone out, I apologize.

There was lots of drinking as we talked and listened to Michael Isaac on the piano and the various waitstaff taking turns at the mic. Every now and then everyone in the bar would stop and sing "Happy Birthday" to me. That was a little surreal, I must say.

Dana even got me up to the mic and we did a duet of "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors. It was fun, and I was pleased to have remembered all the words after four margaritas. I have no idea what it sounded like since I couldn't really hear myself. It was scary though. I was so glad I did it.

David gave me an usual "novelty" straw that was not only eye-catching, but also functional. It was ever so helpful in sucking up margaritas. Not so much for the shots, but I could down those in one gulp anyway.

Fred, who was the photographer for The Importance of Marrying Wells, gave me a blow up of a production photo of me that was highly amusing. I love it. Can't wait to frame it.

All in all, it wasn't even a very late night since I was home by 2.30am.

Fun. Thanks to all who came out to help me celebrate.

Well, August Does Need A National Holiday...

Happy Birthday To Me!

Yes, today is my birthday. I hope to see as many of you as possible either at Caliente Cab Co. in the West Village (7th and Bleecker) for dinner at 6.30pm and/or at the Duplex around 8ish for drinks.

Even if you don't know me, come on by and join the fun. It's always great to meet new people. Especailly people who might want to buy me a drink.

I've been so swamped the past week or so that I've barely had time to do anything, much less write. As my two houseguests (Jeff and the ever fabulous Ed Jones of Chicago) for the past week will attest, I haven't been around much.

But it's been mostly good. I was busy with The Importance of Marrying Wells, of course, but, even after that ended, there was much to do and seemingly no time in which to do it.

And...shockingly...both the maid and the secretary seem to have abandoned their posts, which means that the well-oiled machine of my life has pretty much ground to a halt amid the clutter and detritus of my apartment. And speaking of the household staff and their disloyal defection, I haven't seen the cook in quite a while either. It's so hard to find good help these days.

Or do I mean it's a help to find hard goods these days?

Either/or.

So I'm hoping to be able to spend more time writing over the next few days. We'll see what actually happens.

Sublet Wanted

Two very good friends of mine are coming to NYC this fall to do internships as part of their MFA programs and need a place to stay. They are a set designer and costume designer and, since they are a real life gay couple, only need one bedroom or equivalent space.

Great guys, I tell you. Anyone would be lucky to have them.

If you have a space or know of one in the $1000 or less area, please email me and I will put you in touch.

Oddity

This morning, as I was in that semi-conscious state just before fully waking up, I had a dream. It was more of a vision actually. I had a vision of putting my left hand into a puddle of water. As I pulled my hand out of the puddle, I had enough consciousness to feel it.

While I could feel that my hand was dry (it was just a dream, after all), I was still perceiving it as wet and dripping. It was so weird. Or maybe that that part was a dream too.

But it was like a special effect in a movie. Neat.

Reckoning By My Natal Day

So my birthday is a week from today, August 29th.

I haven't spent much time thinking about it this year because I've been so busy with The Importance of Marrying Wells, which has one last performance tonight at 7.00pm at the Lucille Lortel Theatre on Christopher Street in the West Village. Come and see it...it's really good.

Last year, I had a little gathering at Bar Nine to celebrate, but this year I thought I'd shake it up a bit and, in honor of the increased amount of time I've been spending in the West Village lately, hang out at The Duplex instead.

So come hang out with me and buy me a drink on Monday, August 29th at the Duplex, which is at Christopher Street and 7th Avenue. I'm guessing that I'll be there around 8.00pm and I'll just hang out till I feel like going home. Or until it becomes apparent that no one's showing up. Either/or.

And, if anyone wants to gather for dinner beforehand, I am also open to that.

So come down and say hi. Have a drink and listen to The Duplex's waitstaff belt out numbers at the piano. Should be a grand time for all.

Check Out This Review

The Importance of Marrying Wells got a major league RAVE from one of the on-line sites tonight. You can check out the site here, but since it's so good (and mentions me), I'm just going to reprint the text here. You've totally got to come see this:

The Importance of Marrying Wells
reviewed by John Samuel Jordan

The Importance of Marrying Well$ is a smart, well-crafted, laugh-a-second, all-out riot!!! But seriously, folks...this farce is by far one of the funniest plays I have seen in a loooooooooooooooong time.

Billed as a “not-so-classic retelling of [Oscar Wilde’s] The Importance of Being Earnest,” this is a story of love, friendship, and well-intentioned deceit. Gavin and Jake are friends—both harbor secrets. Gavin is gay and pretends to be in a troubled marriage to a male Canadian Mountie in order to get work in Connecticut (those suburban socialites love a good sob story). Jake is a very wealthy heir, but pretends to be a starving artist to win the love of Gwyn. Gwyn’s mother knows who Jake really is and just adores Gavin, not to mention the fact that she runs Golgotha Christian College in New Haven, Connecticut, where the girls are “forbidden to be pretty.” Enter Jake’s friend Caesar, who has a few secrets of his own, and catches the lustful eyes of Gavin, who will stop at nothing to get some. Add to this mix an insane sex-starved psychiatrist, a workaholic guilt-ridden attorney, and an exasperated fourth-wall-breaking stage manager, and one has the makings of a tremendous outing at the theatre.

Meticulously written by Dana Slamp, the intelligent humor and harmonious organization of the overall plot is awe-inspiring. The fourth wall is broken, put back together, and then shattered all over again.

Nancy S. Chu’s direction is a perfect match for this madcap play. Chu takes the script and the cast and makes magic before the audience’s eyes. The scene changes, blocking, pacing—everything is flawless.

I am a true believer that farce is one of the more difficult genres of acting to pull off. Well, this cast not only pulls it off tremendously, they do it effortlessly. Each actor shines throughout. They work together as a team... a well-oiled, freakin’ hysterical team. I honestly cannot pinpoint a standout/scene-stealer. They all stand out;. they all steal every scene they are in: Cheryl Lynn Bowers, Maria Deasy, Antony Hagopian, Celia Howard, Peter Macklin, Michael Malone, Brian Russell, and Jere Williams. They all deserve a standing ovation.

Alison Yuhas’s lighting design gets all the action, where and when it is needed. Raf Ricci’s set is simple, yet gives the much-needed impression of an “upper-crusty” atmosphere. Just goes to show you one doesn’t need to spend a million dollars to get the point across.

I am allotted somewhere around 500 words to write each review. I would have preferred to just repeat "BRILLIANT" 500 times. Kudos to all involved—the cast, the crew, and most importantly, the playwright.

Also, as this is DRD Productions’ premiere effort, I am most definitely looking forward to their future endeavors.

Performance #2

Our second performance was rather smashing tonight, despite a late curtain time of 9.45pm. We had practically a full house and they were quite a literate, intelligent crowd, I must say.

The Importance of Marrying Wells is a really fun little comedy and, even though I'm in it, I really do recommend it.

Come on down to the Lucille Lortel Theatre on Christopher Street and check us out.

Elevator Fantasies

I know a lot of people have fantasies involving elevators. Here's mine...

Elevator's going up and floor by floor people exit until there are only me and two other people. The door opens and one of them leaves. As soon as the doors slide shut, the other person turns to me and...

Pulls out a knife and begins stabbing me. Over and over.

I come up with a variation on this theme everytime I'm in an elevator with only one other person. Especially when others have exited and I'm "suddenly" left alone with another person in a confined space.

Sometimes they beat me up or pull out a gun and shoot me, but multiple stabbing is the most popular method. And it doesn't matter if the other person is a man or woman.

Though I realize that the chance of this actually happening is slight, I'm always prepared to defend myself to the best of my ability from the other person in the elevator. And I'm always assessing them for their abilities in a fight. When there are three people in the elevator and three buttons pressed, I try to guess which one will be attacking me as I assess the threat level of both.

The one who really makes me crazy is that guy who waits to press the button for their floor until every other person has exited and he's alone with me. Then I know he's figured out exactly how much time he needs to slaughter me between floors and make a clean getaway.

Sweet Charity it ain't, folks.

Ticket Update

Just about every person who has told me that he or she is coming to or thinking about coming to see me in The Importance of Marrying Wells at the Lucille Lortel Theatre (I totally love typing that), has mentioned the Monday evening performance.

While I'd love to see everyone come to any performance to which they can make it, it would really suck to be turning people away on Monday while the other performances had plenty of seats available.

So if you're coming on Monday, I'd advise making a reservation. Otherwise, there are performances each and every day from now through Monday.

And I'd really love to see as many people there as possible. It means so much when friends turn out to support. I'm not sure that people involved in work that doesn't require an audience really understand that.

Ask your friends who are in performing arts and I bet they will say the same thing. It's great to be congratulated when you get a show or to have people ask how it's going, or whatever. But to have a friend actually take the time (and the money) to buy a ticket and come see your work is...amazing.

It's like a rainbow or a kitten.

Really.

Opening

The Importance of Marrying Wells opened this afternoon at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. It was a little rough, being our very first performance and all, but it went very well. I heard we had about 50 people in the audience. Please come, if you can, and see one of our remaining performances Friday-Monday.

And it was a mixed night at bowling tonight. In the first name, I rolled a rather pitiful 88, but, in the second game, I tied my best score ever of 153.

It was the last night of the summer season, so I won't be bowling again until it starts up in the fall. It was so much fun! If anyone's interested in joining in, let me know and I can pass on the information.

Grand Hotel...Round and Round

I'd almost forgotten that I have more more tales to tell from the California trip. Here's another chapter:

Sunday was another day of exploration and bar-hopping for me. After sleeping in a bit, I climbed the hill to Sunset Boulevard and headed east to see what there was to be seen. In truth, not much, but there is a stretch there that is filled with elegant boutique hotels. I managed the check out The Standard, The Mondrian, The Argyle, the Sunset Plaza, and the fabled Chateau Marmont. I didn’t get very far at the Marmont, but the others all allowed me at least into the lobbies and sometimes I managed to go check out the pool areas, all beautiful, with stunning views and even more stunning people.

Of course, I stuck out like a sore thumb, so I usually left quickly. These hotels also have the most artfully decorated lobbies I’ve ever seen. They seemed like something out of magazine cover or a stylish period film. The closest thing I’ve seen to it in New York is the Hudson Hotel on West 58th Street, but even that somehow didn’t compare.

After my tour of Sunset Boulevard hotels and their pools, I returned to Mike’s condo and spent some time in the pool there. There is nothing like having a swimming pool at your disposal. It’s the most fucking amazing amenity that a place could have, outranking even a dishwasher. And the weird thing is that over the course of my time in LA, I never saw another person in the pool. Not one. I guess the Angelenos are so blasé about swimming pools (and, indeed, every building seems to have one), that they just don’t even think about actually using them. I was in this pool almost every day. On Sunday, I spent several hours just reading and relaxing and swimming. It was heaven.

Sunday night, Mike and I hit the bars again, this time adding Here to the mix, another gay bar right next door to The Abbey. For a time, we flitted between them, as did seemingly everyone. I began to notice that the crowds in these bars is really ecumenical. There was a good mix of men and women, older men and younger men, bears, twinks, and any other category of people you might name. The bars are also far more casual than in New York, probably an indication that life in general is far more casual on the west coast.

After having some drinks, we returned to Hamburger Mary’s for a late dinner and then headed home to bed, since Mike had to work early in the morning.

Final Rehearsal

Just in from our final rehearsal, which was terrific. We were able to take time to address problem areas and some of the actors were able to ask questions and have dialogues about their characters and motivations, etc., that they haven't really had time to do since the very beginning of the process.

Whereas there was a lot of stress and strain in the air last night, tonight was noticeably calmer. Things are really falling into place though and I think the play will be lots of fun. I just hope people come see it.

Just in case anyone is new, the play is called The Importance of Marrying Wells. Click on the hyperlink there and go take a look at the website and buy a ticket. Members of Actors' Equity get in free on a standby basis.

Tales From the Desk Jockey Day Job

The firm where I work during the day will shortly be beginning a new project and the higher-ups have been brainstorming for several weeks trying to come up with a name for this new endeavour. They want something succinct, easy to recognize, and catchy that will also capture the flavour of the project.

This morning a memo was sent around to everyone in the office with a list of possible names. The first thing I noticed about the list of potentials is that it contained many words that I didn’t know how to pronounce, much less their meanings. Not a good move, no? Now, I realize that the English language contains many words and it’s impossible to know ALL of them, but I’m a fairly well educated guy and I do know MANY of them. And if I can’t figure out some of these titles, how would a client or customer of the firm’s products do so? Hmmm...

The second thing I noticed was the very last of the many titles in the alphabetically arranged list. It used the word for a popular striped animal, native of sub-Saharan Africa, followed by the word “Bareback.”

Uh Huh.

I’m not kidding.

I only wish I was.

You see, the firm has used the name of that animal for years on a similar (and very successful) project and this new thing will be tangentially related to that. Hence the idea (I’m assuming).

As the memo made its way around the office, I could hear my co-workers giggling at the various suggestions on the list (the one that caught MY eye was far from the only laughter-producing idea). When someone near my cubicle mentioned aloud the one I pointed up, I turned around in my chair and said “Um...I think that one would be a BIG no.”

And there was more laughter as she said “I never thought of that from a same-sex point of view.” Of course, the minute I commented, she knew exactly the point at which I was getting.

Apparently, when my co-workers look at me or hear me speak, they are immediately brought to mind of the “same sex point of view.” I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s not like there aren’t other ‘mos wandering the halls. This office is just crawling with gay men. There may even be some lesbians...I honestly have no idea.

Another co-worker, an attractive gay man, took one look at the suggestion that caught my attention and said “Wow...a name that manages to suggest both unsafe sex AND bestiality...a DOUBLE WINNER!” I like him a lot.

I think it’s pretty certain that, whatever this project is ultimately called, it will not be this.

But it certainly begs the question...who ever thought this particular suggestion was a good idea. While I understand the traditional meaning of the word “bareback,” as in riding a quadruped without benefit of a saddle, this meaning has been almost entirely superceded in my mind by the fairly common connotation pertaining to penetrative sex without a condom. In the gay community, we hear about this constantly, especially as public health officials work hard to remind us all that HIV is still a very real death sentence for the infected.

Is barebacking more acceptable in straight sex? Don’t straight people get the same safe-sex messages that gay people get? Do straight people even KNOW the term “barebacking” or is it strictly a gay thing.

Or am I just obsessed with gay sex and reading subliminal messages in everything now?

So We Made It Through Tech Alive

Tonight we had our tech rehearsal at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, the major off-Broadway house where The Importance of Marrying Wells will be playing Thursday through Monday as part of the New York International Fringe Festival.

The theatre is, as you might expect, a beautiful facility and we were all ever so pleased to be there. The Fringe Festival occupies many venues all over the East and West Village and some spaces are definitely better than others. The Lortel has got to be the best venue ever.

It was nice that we were in such a nice space because there was, as the Germans (and the urchins from Little Shop of Horrors) say, sturm und drang in the air.

Everyone's feeling a little stressed, as we all do at this point in every production. No matter how good a shape a show is in going into tech, the minutiae of the process always drains everyone and causes morale to dip a bit.

This is the few hours where we get to take to the stage for the first time, work on the set for the first time, and work out lighting and sound cues for the designers and board operators. In other words, the actors are suddenly everyone's LAST priority and a play that had previously been revving along quite nicely now struggles in fits and spurts. It's the nature of the beast.

Luckily, we all seem to genuinely like one another and there doesn't seem to be any in-fighting amongst the company. Everyone seems to be helping one another and trying to do whatever is best for the production.

Because I don't have a lot to do in the play, I find myself doing a lot of the stuff that a stage crew might normally do and I have to remind myself that I am an actor PLAYING a stage manager, not actually a stage manager. Of course, we don't really have a lot of people around to do these things and the people we have can seem somewhat overwhelmed. I'm glad to pitch in when and where I can, but even I was growing frustrated at times because I felt there were moments when OTHER people would forget this, which is an entirely different thing altogether. But it's fine.

Everyone seems pleased with our set, which is bare bones by Broadway standards, but quite lovely for the Fringe. You see, we have only 15 minutes to get into the theatre and set up prior to beginning the performance and 15 minutes to get out once we're done, so any set we might have has to come apart and get stored within that timeframe. This can be maddening as people are running about trying to get out of costume and make-up and get the set and props put away and get out of the building. But that's the Fringe. That's just what it is. It's the gimmick. It's how they can cram in four or six performances or however many of different shows in a single day in a single venue.

Actually, these demands so shape the productions that they shouldn't even be called "productions." They are more like workshop presentations. Every piece that has gone on from the Fringe to have a life elsewhere (Urinetown, Debbie Does Dallas, The Joy of Sex, etc.) has gone through extensive revision after the Fringe productions closed. In many cases, these productions are the very first public viewing of a work (The Importance of Marrying Wells certainly falls into this category) and the first time authors are hearing reaction from a group larger than what fits in his or her living room.

I'm guessing that our esteemed author, the beautiful Dana Slamp, is quietly noting and assessing changes she wants to make to the script for any future productions and will do so throughout our run. I can't wait to see what she does with it, myself.

So we have one more rehearsal to go before opening. Unfortunately, we are not at the Lortel tomorrow night, but the experience of being there tonight will greatly inform what we do and how we do it.

I can't wait to get this play in front of an audience and see how it goes.

ADDENDUM: In my list of the challenges of working the Fringe, I left out something very important. Each show in a venue has to make do with the same general lighting plot, which means that lighting design is practically for naught. Last night there were minor changes to the blocking that were necessary in order for everything to be in the light. Those of you who go to the theatre are used to seeing shows with lighting plots designed specifically for those shows. While you may not know anything about lighting design, it's readily apparent how important this art is when there essentially is NO design.

Postcard From the Fringe

Here's the postcard for the play I'm doing at the Fringe Festival, The Importance of Marrying Wells. It's pretty cool, even if it doesn't have my name on it (I joined the show too late). Hope everyone can come see it. I love to see you there. By the way, the Thursday performance is actually at 4.15pm...a mistake was made on the electronic version of the postcard. Oops.

Here...Just Crazy Busy

I'm still alive. I've been swamped with rehearsals, auditions, social engagements, work, and I've hardly had time to sleep, much less write.

I haven't even had a moment to do laundry or go grocery shopping. Clothes are piling up and I have nothing to eat.

Oh, and the dishes are piling up too. Sigh.

I'm not working on Monday, so I'm hoping to take time tomorrow to catch up with everything around here...including blogging.

Back To The Beach (Do YOU Know The Jamaica Ska?) And My Adventures At The Bars

More on the trip to Southern California:

Saturday, I took the bus all the way to the end of Santa Monica Boulevard to check out the beach and the neighbourhood. I will always think of the community of Santa Monica as the setting for one of the favorite sitcoms of my youth, Three’s Company, and it was nice to spend some time in the real place that was once home to Jack, Janet and Chrissy (and later Cindy and Terri) and the Ropers and Mr. Furley.

It turns out that the city has closed off several blocks of Third Street in Santa Monica to create a Promenade in which upscale shops look out onto street musicians and artists selling there wares to the thousands of pedestrians streaming by. It was pretty nice, although the stores were mostly chic chains that are readily available elsewhere across the nation and certainly at home in New York.

I discovered on Saturday that my sunglasses had disappeared at some point. I have no idea what happened to them or the case they were in, but I now suspect that I may have left them under my seat at the theatre on Friday night. In any case, I did spend some time trying to locate a 99 cent store in an attempt to replace them, but there were none to be found. I could have bought a new pair for $12 on the Promenade, but I don’t really have $12 to spend on a pair of sunglasses, you know? I have spare pairs at home and will hit a dollar store when I return to replace the case.

It’s not the expense that I mind so much, but the inconvenience of having to spend a few days in sunny California with no sunglasses. Argh!

Anyway, following my tour of the town, I hit the beach and walked along the concrete path all the way down to Venice Beach, with it’s Boardwalk-like souvenir shops and snack stands. The beaches here are HUGE, at least 3 times as wide as the typical beaches in New Jersey and Florida. If one was interested in actually making it to the water, a long walk would be in store. But the extra sand left plenty of room for beach volleyball courts and exercise equipment befitting Santa Monica’s claim to have started the fitness trend in the US as “Muscle Beach USA.”

I walked down to Venice Beach and back and then headed home to West Hollywood for a dip in the pool. Mike and I had some dinner and then he took me to check out the gay scene in West Hollywood.

We started at the best known and most popular of the gay bars in town, The Abbey. It was crowded, but a great atmosphere in which to hang out. Like many bars and restaurants in L.A., much of it is open-air, due to the near perfect weather this area enjoys all year round. Unlike most of the gay bars in New York, The Abbey also has a full food menu and there were plenty of bars, tables, stool, booths and benches to go round. It was fun to walk from room to room scoping out the clientele. It was much larger than most bars in New York and the only place to which I can really think to compare it is Sidetrack in Chicago, but without the abundant video screens.

Next we headed to one of L.A.’s newest gay bars, the more upscale East West Lounge. It was smaller, and had a more New York kind of vibe, but I liked it and got to meet a lot of Mike’s friends as they all seemed to be hanging out there.

At some point in the evening, we also hit O-Bar, where Mike seemed to know all the staff, a cute funky little place that was designed to within an inch of its existence. Usually such places are more reserved and not fun, but this was certainly not the case here where the cute waitstaff and patrons kept us entertained the whole time we were there.

It was pretty late as Mike and I headed home, but all-in-all another fun day.

I didn't have much luck turning heads or meeting people at any of the gay bars out there, but then I really didn't have the opportunity to do anything anyway since I was staying with my friend Mike. Of course, I might have been ugly and/or totally out of place amongst the gays and lesbians of the left coast.

I did my best to not be intimidated by thinking to myself all night long "Yeah, these folks are pretty and all, but they're not so tough. I have one word for these guys...WINTER."

First Rehearsal

Celebrity Sighting of the Day: Broadway actor and Tony winner Richard Easton heading into the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts up at Lincoln Center. I had just come from the library, having picked up a script for an upcoming audition this weekend. I was in a play with Richard in 1999, but it was a large cast and I have no reason to believe that he would actually remember me. But today, we made eye contact and said hello and he acknowledged me, but I couldn't decide if it was a spark of recognition (as in "Where do I know that guy from?") or just his acknowledgement that I'd recognized him as a fairly well known actor here. Next time I see him around I will do my best to stop him and actually say hi.

I may have seen Broadway actress and comedian Jackie Hoffman on the 1 train tonight on the way home from rehearsal. If it was really she, it would have been quite a coincidence since, when I saw her, I literally turned my head away from a conversation about the new FX sitcom Starved, in which she seems to play a recurring role (at least, she played a fairly prominent, non-leading role in the one episode that I've seen).

I had my first rehearsal tonight for The Importance of Marrying Wells. And I really didn't do anything. Basically, I needed to watch to get a feel for where the other actors, who have been rehearsing for several week already, are. Everyone seems really nice and it looks like the play is really coming together.

I'm actually being put in for all my bits on Saturday. It should be a fun day.

The playwright/producer has even promised me press materials (at least electronic versions) with my name on them. If and when I get them, I'll be sure to post them here for all to see.

The Big Valley

This is the third chapter of the California Trip:

On Friday, I had my first experience with public transit here in L.A. In order to make a lunch date in Studio City (in “the Valley” as people say here), I had to figure out how to get there and back again on my own. I was expecting this to be arduous and time-consuming, but, with some assistance from Mike and David Ehrenstein, I discovered a bus that I could get at Santa Monica and Crescent Heights Boulevards that would take me up and over the mountain and into the Valley, depositing me only a block or so away from where I needed to go. How lovely! How convenient! How inexpensive! (It was $1.25 each way, by the way). And how speedy!

Now, I’ve been told that no one in L.A. takes buses except for the Mexican immigrants who must move around the area to act as servants for the rich folks who populate the town. Shades of Metropolis, I must say. Luckily, there seem to be rich folks (and bus lines) everywhere. Buses are, of course, not as convenient and far more confusing than trains, but one can’t have everything.

I got to Studio City in excellent time and even had time to walk a bit around the neighbourhood before heading to my first appointment: lunch with a reader named Allen with whom I correspond now and then. There was a Samuel French bookstore right on the corner and I spent some time looking over scripts and books on how to make it in the business. There were several that I’d buy if I had the money, but perhaps one day that will happen.

The sidewalks of Studio City carry plaques that seem to commemorate various movies that I’m guessing were shot there. It’s difficult to tell, really, since I saw no explanation and the plaques themselves weren’t as self-explanatory as, say, the stars on Hollywood Boulevard.

Then came time for me to go meet Allen at his office. I was pretty excited because his office was located within the CBS-Radford Studio facility where, as I discovered, many television series are shots. In addition to being a successful playwright (one of his works has been enormously popular and played all over the country, except possibly in New York; I saw a production in Memphis several years ago), Allen works at Mozark Productions for writer/producers Linda Bloodworth-Thomason and Harry Thomason, who created, among other things, the long-running series Designing Women and Evening Shade. Exciting, right? Who doesn’t love Designing Women? And, coincidentally, I’d just seen Delta Burke on Broadway in Steel Magnolias!

After getting a bit turned around on the lot, I found Allen’s office and discovered him to be as delightful and friendly in person as he is via email. He showed me around the office and introduced me to his beautiful co-worker “Belle,” at first the only other person in the office that day. Linda Bloodworth-Thomason has an office that’s comfy and inviting with just a hint of Southern formality and that was, in a word, perfect. I’m thinking that she must be sort of like the Julia Sugarbaker character in Designing Women; it was just that sort of place.

Allen then showed me over to the studio commissary, which is probably just like the cafeteria in your office building. We ordered sandwiches and went to the dining area, as I surreptitiously scanned the room for faces I might recognize. No such luck. Allen and I talked and laughed all through lunch and I walked with him back to his office. He told me I should take some time to walk around the lot and just check it out and I was happy to be able to do so. I know I’m supposed to be a jaded New Yorker and all that, but it’s SO exciting to be on the lot of a television or movie studio. I was just saying goodbye to Allen and “Belle,” when someone else entered the office and I was introduced to Mr. Harry Thomason himself. Mr. Thomason sat down for a few moments and talked, which surprised the hell out of me considering that he must be an incredibly busy man. He really seems like a great guy and I almost forgot that I was standing talking with, not only an important television executive, but also the A-#1 Friend of Bill (as in Clinton, for those of you with short memories). The Clinton administration seems like so long ago now…remember those quaint years when we were all so concerned about whether or not the President lied about his sex life, rather than about a war, the economy, or terrorist attacks.

I wonder if the Thomasons are as close to our Senator Clinton as they are to her husband? If so, I hope that they throw their support behind the Senator, should she choose to run for President in 2008.

After finally leaving Allen to get back to work, I did wander about the lot some and saw the outside of studios housing Will & Grace, the current Big Brother compound, Passions, and some shows with which I was unfamiliar, Half and Half and Rodney. I also saw production offices for Malcolm in the Middle and CSI: NY. It was cool!

The studio is bisected by what the locals out here seem to call (with a straight face, I might add) the Los Angeles River, a foot-wide creek held in place by two large cement banks. I felt so sorry for the poor thing, wending its way to God-knows-where and having to do so through solid concrete. It was sort of the equivalent of what might run in the gutter during a particularly hard rain storm.

Oh, and I also checked out the lot’s “New York Street,” something that every television and film production facility seems to have. It was a pretty good representation if I didn’t look too hard, which is just the intent. There were storefronts representing many NYC local businesses like Duane Reade, New York Sports Club, and Ray’s Pizza. If you look closer, however, you’ll notice that things are just a touch off and I was reminded of an episode of Alias from the past season in which the Russians had built a complete suburban American town in the wilds of Siberia for the purpose of training spies. It was just wrong in tiny, indescribable ways and would never pass muster if the television cameras weren’t trained on the actors in close-up or a nice two-shot, rather than the scenery.

Still, I suppose using such a set is easier than going to New York and filming on the street for a 20 second clip.

After taking in my fill of the studio lot, I went back out to the real world and got a bus back to West Hollywood, where I met David Ehrenstein on the porch of a café called Basix. We also sat and talked forever about tons of things and he turned out to be a delightful guy who has lots of interesting stories to tell. I wonder if I will have such interesting stories to tell when I reach “a certain age?” I managed to fill in some blanks for him about other NYC bloggers that he reads and we both had a marvelous time sitting on the porch me with my lemonade, and he with his coffee.

After leaving David, I returned home to ready myself to head to the theatre. That’s right; L.A. does have theatre and quite a lot of it from what I gather. The way it was described to me reminded me a lot of theatre in Chicago, where there are a few big time companies and venues, but most of the companies are little storefront places that seat 50 people or so. And there are, apparently, many of these little companies in almost every community. For example, there were two (the Globe Theatre and the Coast Playhouse) literally right around the corner from where I was staying in West Hollywood.

Anyway, Mike and I were headed to the McCadden Place Theatre in Hollywood to see a company called The SpyAnts present their production of The Birds: A Tail of Ornithic Proportions, a comic parody of the Alfred Hitchcock classic The Birds, written by none other than Chicago’s favorite playwright/composer/drag performer extraordinaire David Cerda. And even better, we were meeting up with Mike and Vicky from Chicago who also happened to be in town at the same time I was. I’d run into Mike on-line before leaving New York and he’s the one who had the idea to go and I’m so pleased that he did. As it turned out, that performance was the opening night and a benefit for GLAAD, a nifty bonus.

It’s always great to see Mike and Vicky and seeing them made me miss the whole Chicago Handbag gang. They were in the midst of their own Southern California odyssey and it was lucky that we were able to find a night that worked for all of us to get together. We had a quick dinner in a delicious Japanese place right on the corner by the theatre and took our seats.

Like most of David’s parodies, I have not seen the original film and I was wondering if I’d get the parody or not. As it turned out, I had no cause for alarm. We walked into the theatre and were immediately greeted by an impressive set, courtesy of Joel Daavid and a lone woman sitting reading a book. She continued to sit there until she decided it was time to start the play, something that she made clear she would be doing at her own convenience.

The woman turned out to be none other than famous lesbian writer and pundit Camille Paglia, played by actress Darcy Halsey, who once, apparently, wrote a latter day feminist interpretation of the film and who would be serving as our guide into the strange world of the play. Vintage Cerda.

As you may not know (I certainly didn’t), The Birds tells the story of what happens when bad girl blonde Melanie (originally played by Tippi Hedren; here by Lori Evans Taylor) meets good boy Mitch and follows him to his seaside hometown. It seems that the birds start behaving ever so oddly and no one seems to know why, although it seems linked somehow to Melanie’s appearance in town.

David Cerda has taken the movie itself and spliced it with, not only Paglia’s take on the plot, but also the behind the scenes story of how it was made, notably Hitchcock’s torment of his star, Hedren. Here Hitchcock, who does not actually appear in the play, seems a casually brutal and heartless Pygmalion to Hedren’s exhausted and confused Galatea.

The production was wonderful and we all had a great time. We agreed that Maria Tomas nearly stole the whole damn show as schoolteacher Annie and her alter ego, the actress Suzanne Pleschette. I also enjoyed the work of the deliciously cute Eric Bunton as Lydia and the previously mentioned Darcy Halsey as Camille Paglia. I was told that leading lady Lori Evans Taylor wasn’t really channeling the film or Hedren so much as doing her own thing, but, I enjoyed what she was doing and thought that she provided a winning center for all the nuttiness.

After the play, Mike and I were mini-celebrities for a few minutes because it had gotten out (courtesy of my big mouth explaining my connection to David Cerda before the show to Mike, my host) that we were friends of the writer and had worked with Handbag. Several of the actors made their way over to speak with us, including Bunton, who, alas, remained at the theatre afterward instead of coming home with me. ;)

What a whirlwind day this was! I’m having such a great time here…this little vacation was exactly what I needed.

World News Tonight With...

I was as shocked as anyone else to see the news this morning that ABC News' Peter Jennings had passed away. Jennings delivered the news to many of us (including me) every night for most of our lives. He only left the World News Tonight broadcast a few months ago and then only "temporarily" to deal with his health issues.

Jennings was bravely upfront with his lung cancer and failing voice on the air, something that I wouldn't have imagined in the context of the formal network evening news.

His death was front page news all over the nation, including at those new organizations for which he did not work. I wonder how such a dedicated reporter would feel about suddenly BECOMING the news.

At the moment, I'm watching the program that still bears his name: ABC World News Tonight with Peter Jennings. Charles Gibson is in the anchor chair tonight delivering a touching tribute to a colleague that it's clear was dearly loved by those with whom he worked.

There were clips of Jennings struggling to hold himself together on September 11, 2001, clips of him laughing and one priceless one of him deadpanning a parody of a promo for his broadcast.

Prior to this, I caught the last few minutes of the local news and the anchor did the usual sign off, encouraging viewers to stay tuned for ABC World News Tonight...and then she stumbled a moment and said the With Peter Jennings part.

It's a new world.

Thank you, Peter Jennings. Rest in Peace.

Fringe Ahoy!

There is Good News!

I've been cast in a play that's part of the New York International Fringe Festival and will play at the Lucille Lortel Theatre from August 18th-22nd.

It's called The Importance of Marrying Wells. It's a new play by Dana Slamp. And it's sort of a modern take on Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest.

Here's how this happened: The director, Nancy Chu, is a friend of mine and she called me up at the beginning of the summer because she needed a reader to help out with auditions. Then she called me again for the first read-through because one of the actors that she cast was stuck in California and could not make it. So I went in and read a role.

Then she called me tonight and was telling me that as they've been going through the rehearsal process and making revisions to the script (as happens frequently with a new work), she and the playwright discovered a need for a new character, one that had previously not been a part of the text. And this is the part that Nancy has asked me to come in and do.

I couldn't be more thrilled. It's a small part, but, from what I hear, there is potential for some great comic business and I'm looking forward to getting my hands on the script and figuring it out.

I'll keep you informed.

Hanging Out With Meryl Streep

I spent a good deal of time last night hanging out with Meryl Streep. Okay, so it WAS a dream, but it felt pretty real at the time. It happened in two parts...

In Part One, I was working at some sort of fast food restaurant, not in New York, but someplace where people would drive up to it and park. And it was its own separate building with, I think, a drive through window on one side. I just can't remember what kind of fast food place it was.

There were a lot of employees, but we were still very busy, even though I don't recall seeing any customers, because one person had not yet shown up for work. I saw a car drive up and turn into the parking lot. And finally Meryl Streep arrived, a little breathless and apologetic for being late to work.

She had on the same uniform as the rest of us, but was in a wheelchair for some reason (I never did hear why). Then the dream cut to the end of shift and, after work, she got into her car and left. I remember watching her drive off.

Part Two of the dream took place here in the city on the Upper West Side. I was walking up Broadway and happened to pass this huge gothic auditorium building and I decided to stop in and see what was going on in there.

I climbed up the massive stone steps and walked into the auditorium and saw that auditions were being held for something. I think it was something medieval because people were taking the stage in costume for some reason. Some of them played instruments, some sang, and I think there was some dancing.

The director running the auditions was Evan Pappas, who recently directed me in My Favorite Year. Meryl Streep was there, desperately trying to get seen in an audition for whatever the piece was. Evan wouldn't even look at her and she left the auditorium in tears.

I sat with her on the big stone steps outside and comforted her. I talked to her about how she's one of the most respected actresses of all time and that if she couldn't get an audition here, then she should pick herself up and move on to the next one, because surely someone there would, at least, see her.

Eventually she stopped crying and we just sort of sat talking for awhile. I thought I would stick my head into the auditions and just maybe catch Evan's eye and ask him if he'd please just take a couple of minutes to see my friend Meryl Streep.

When I did, I saw no one around and returned to the steps outside to report to Meryl Streep that the auditions appeared to be over because I didn't see anyone. She came in with me to see for herself, and as we stood in the empty auditorium, a large group of people took the stage doing a number of some sort.

And people also entered the auditorium itself as if they were just meeting elsewhere until this number was ready to go. I did not see Evan at this point. Meryl Streep and I then left and I apologized to her for making the mistake, while also pointing out that the auditorium HAD been empty when I checked.

She was still upset and so was I. She was starting to cry again.

That's when the dream ended because I woke up. I was slightly disoriented and confused when I awoke. And...sad.

Poor Meryl Steep.

ADDENDUM: There were two other things that came to me later in the day after I'd already written this. As I was comforting Meryl Streep, I purposely did not mention that I'd just worked with Evan in the spring. I didn't want to appear tactless. Also, in the midst of my comforting, I talked to her about how I'd seen her in The Seagull in the park a couple of years ago and how it was one of the few times that Chekhov really came to life for me. She said "Really?" and that seemed to help her to feel better. And there was hugging. Oh, and Meryl Streep carries handkerchiefs...who knew?

City of Angels, Day 1

This is the continuation of the saga:

We were delayed even more in Phoenix. The plane that I was to transfer to was arriving from Newark and was even later than my plane from JFK. But after being on the ground at Sky Harbor International Airport for an hour, I was finally en route to L.A. We arrived two hours late, meaning at close to 2.00am local time. I felt so badly for my friend Mike who was picking me up. And it gets worse.

Apparently, the good people at America West saw fit to leave my luggage in Phoenix. I have no idea how this could have happened, considering that there was all the time in the world to make the transfer and that the planes were right next to each other in the terminal, but the America West representative in L.A. treated it as a matter of course, as if the airline routinely decides to do this and screw its customers.

Mike and I left the airport and he drove me to his lovely West Hollywood condo and we arrived at 3.30am local time. And, of course, he has to work in the morning. I felt so bad about this. Argh!

The next day, I slept in and waited for the airline to deliver my bags, which they did in the early afternoon. After showering the changing into something fresh, I proceeded to take a walking tour.

The condo is located on a residential street in West Hollywood, smack dab in between Santa Monica Boulevard and Sunset Boulevard (in fact, I am literally down the hill from the Mondrian Hotel and the House of Blues. I set out walking on Santa Monica Boulevard and walked clear down to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Later, Mike was amazed that I’d traversed so far, but it was fun and easy. I know that LA has the reputation as a complete car culture, but it’s really not. West Hollywood has wide sidewalks and cute little shops and restaurants and Beverly Hills has public parkland along the Boulevard with a wide path for walking or jogging or whatever.

After reaching the famous shopping street, I walked around Beverly Hills a bit and headed up Beverly Drive toward Sunset Boulevard. Now, I know that Beverly Hills has quite a reputation, but many of the houses I saw were simple, ordinary homes that you might see in any suburb in any part of the country. Of course, some of them were palaces too. And many of them were ensconced behind iron gates and fences.

Upon reaching Sunset Boulevard (right at Will Rogers Park and across the street from the Beverly Hills Hotel), I turned left and walked over Sunset back to West Hollywood. Naturally, I was on the lookout for Norma and Joe, but, alas, I found no gothic noir during my afternoon sojourn. I did see one huge mansion that struck me as Desmond-esque, but it was difficult to see, shrouded, as it was, in fences and trees.

I saw a lot of houses from Sunset that I liked better than those I’d seen from Santa Monica. There was one on the corner of Sunset and Elm that was even for sale (I think) that would be a simply dreamy place to live.

As I got into the Sunset Strip area, it became less residential and more populated with clubs and shops and other businesses. I passed the famous Viper Room, where actor River Phoenix died about 15 years ago or so. I also found a terrific bookstore called Book Soup.

On a side note, in my short time here, I’ve found so many wonderful little bookstores here in L.A. I know this town is supposed to have no culture and be filled with vapid, silly people, but there are more independent bookstores here than anywhere I’ve ever been. And I live in New York City, folks.

Once I returned to the condo, I met Mike on the front stoop (how’s that for timing?) and went upstairs, changed clothes and took a dip in the pool. Aaaahhhhh…such is the life. Actually, pools seem to be almost standard equipment with buildings here, something I very much envy.

Then we went out and had dinner at Hamburger Mary’s, a gay-oriented sort of diner that you’ve probably seen advertised as a franchising opportunity in The Advocate. It really was quite delicious and I wonder why we don’t yet have one in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen. If I had the money and/or the know how, I’d buy the franchise rights myself and open a location on 9th or 10th Avenue. The food was delicious and the drinks tasty and the bill was delivered in a red pump of unknown size, but way too small for my size 12 feet.

West Hollywood is a terrific neighbourhood, and a very central and convenient location. While it’s not quite as “neighbourhoody” as any given area in New York City, it’s not for lack of trying. For all the tales I’d heard of a Chelsea-like hard body culture, I have not yet found that to be the case.

Cruisin' & Bowlin'

I totally got cruised at Port Authority Bus Terminal on my way in to bowl tonight. I passed this cute guy on the second floor and we made eye contact. Dreamy. Then a few paces further on, I turned around to look...and so had he. I walked a bit further and then turned around again. And so had he. It was SO cool. If I hadn't been running a bit late for bowling, I'd have totally gone back and met him. Why do cute guys always cruise me when I'm in a hurry?

Anyhow, we were bowling a team called Striking Scoundrels, which represents, as you might expect, the Broadway production of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

In the first game, I bowled 153, my best game ever, and I even beat my teammate, Michael, which has never happened before. Didn't do as well in the second game, but still rolled a respectable 116, tying Michael and besting my average of 109.

Whee! I should take a week off more often. Coincidentally, we are not bowling next week due to a scheduling issue that takes a handful of teams off the roster each week. So we'll see how I do in a couple of weeks.

Nothing Special In The Air

This is Part One of the California trip...

I write this from seat 13D on America West Airlines flight 38, in the air somewhere between New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport and Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix, en route to Los Angeles. I have no idea when I will be able to post this, but I thought I’d amuse myself by writing.

The rainbow sunset out the right side of this Airbus A319 is quite breathtaking. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple…the wonders of nature never cease to astound me.

As I reflect on my country’s natural wonders, I really must be honest and say this: It’s been one hell of a day so far and it won’t be ending for many hours yet.

I got out of work on-time and had no trouble taking the E train out to the far reaches of Queens where I transferred to the AirTrain to take me to JFK’s Terminal 7. I have a suspicion that I was charged twice at the AirTrain. Since the cost is already an exorbitant $5.00 each way, I am not pleased by the thought. You see, the MetroCard reader at the AirTrain was not happy with the way I wielded my card and, fairly rudely for an inanimate object, told me “No Go. Swipe Again.” The second time I was granted access, but it seemed to tell me that I had only $2.00 left on the card when I should have had $7.00. This will be determined for certain, of course, when I return on Tuesday, and I’m not looking forward to wasting $5.00 that I can ill afford.

The AirTrain ride was lovely though and whisked me to Terminal 7 in good time, where I checked in with America West and was able to get on standby for an earlier flight. My non-stop flight to Los Angeles was scheduled to leave New York at 8.30pm EDT and arrive at 11.42pm PDT. The earlier flight was scheduled to depart at 6.15pm EDT and arrive at 11.10pm PDT. I found it rather amusing that a flight that was departing more than 2 before mine was to arrive only 30 minutes ahead. A layover in Phoenix accounts for the lag.

After checking my bags (something I rarely do, but I was unsure of the proper wardrobe or what would be suitable for Los Angeles, so I most likely overpacked), I called an acquaintance who happens to manage Terminal 4 at this airport and, after ascertaining that I was not disturbing him, met him there and made use of his significant discount to purchase dinner.

Rob gave me a short tour of his terminal, which is as beautiful a public space as one could imagine an airport being. It certainly made Terminal 7 look like an also-ran, something I couldn’t help but remark upon. Several times. Rob doesn’t care for much of the artwork on display in the makeshift gallery at one end of the terminal, but I found much of it quite interesting. It was obvious that the artist, whose name I’ve regrettably forgotten, had gone through several distinct periods of work, as well as several different media. There were oil paintings, sculpture, some that might have been watercolours, as well as pieces constructed out of found objects. The most curious of these was a piece of a girder from the World Trade Center that the artist had painted and stood on end for display. I cannot claim to understand it, but isn’t that half the fun of art?

I left Rob to return to Terminal 7 and await the decision as to whether or not I’d be able to board the earlier flight. Luckily, I was able to snag a seat, and an aisle seat at that. Normally, of course, I prefer window seats, but I’m not complaining since I could have been stuck in a middle one.

Boarding went well and we taxied out onto the tarmac and stopped. And stopped. And continued to sit there until the captain came on the intercom and announced that, due to stormy weather we were temporarily halted and we would have to wait for the storm to pass before we could proceed. On the ground, there was no indication that anything was amiss…just some dark clouds and a few drops of rain.

We sat on the tarmac for over 2 hours.

Yes, the cosmic joke was on me. Our flight took off only a few minutes ahead of my original plane, the one going on straight to Los Angeles with no stops. Assuming that there were no great delays, I’d have been better off sticking. And I’d have had a window. Fuck.

But there was nothing to be done about it, so I’m trying not to brood and curse America West. They cannot control the weather, after all. But if I find out later that they can, indeed, control the weather, I’m going to be ever so pissed.

A gentleman in seat 14D, the window seat of the row behind me, fell asleep at some point during our two hour hiatus and has been snoring away ever since. I can only presume that he hasn’t a clue if we’re in the air or still on the ground.

The in-flight movie was Sahara starring Matthew McConaughey, Steve Zahn, and Penelope Cruz. I looked up at the screen now and then at what appears to be a genuinely fun, action-packed film, but declined to rent headphones to listen to it at the cost of $5.00. In light of our little tarmac vacation, it would have been a smart business move on the part of this airline to give us the headphones for free, but they did not. Boo! Hiss!

You may have noticed that my first (and since they are shortly to be merging with US Airways, only) experience with America West hasn’t been a stellar experience thus far. The seat is sort of uncomfortable with not enough legroom in coach. Of course, I’m not the best judge of legroom. Since I have an aisle seat, I’ve been simply sticking my legs out into the aisle and have made a game of tripping the flight attendants and my fellow passengers. Two points for a crew member, one point for a passenger. With an extra point if the person drops whatever it is that he or she is carrying, unless the object carried is a baby in which case that’s two extra points. The service carts don’t count, mostly because they would merely roll over my feet, detaching a toe or two in the process. And that’s no fun.

There are no cute flight attendants with whom to flirt either. Only one of them is a man and, even if he was my type, does not seem inclined to flirt. And he’s certainly not passing me free cocktails. Dammit.
I’m hoping that the projected hour layover in Phoenix will be trimmed since we are running late and that I’m not so very late into Los Angeles. On the Jetway, while waiting to board the plane, I phoned Michael and told him that I’d be coming in early and on a different flight than previously planned. I will need to phone him again from the ground in Phoenix to apprise him of the delay.

There is a ritual that I’ve indulged in when boarding an airplane that goes back to when I was a child. As I’m going through the cabin door, I must touch the aluminum skin of the plane, just to see what it feels like. I don’t know why this gives me comfort, but it does. I love the feel of the cold, hard metal for a moment as I’m passing. Usually I will touch the plane to the right of the door as well as just above the door frame. I’ve always done this. Well, the above-the-door didn’t start till I was tall enough to reach it, but you get the idea.

No issues with air pressure in my ears as yet. Whoo-Hoo!

Snoring Guy, whose name, I think, is Landon, is now awake. It’s a good thing, because I might have had to smother him with a pillow if that damn snoring continued. And you know how inadequate these airline pillows are for putting people out of their misery. And mine. I bet you could barely suffocate a small child with one of these things.

So that’s the story from 36,000 feet at the moment. I may write again at some point between Phoenix and Los Angeles.

I'm Home

Hey, Everybody!

I'm home from California and busy playing catch-up with all the stuff that piled up while I was gone. I'm going to start posting the stuff I wrote while I was out there for your education and enjoyment.

By the way, I finished Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince just before I left, which means that I didn't have to lug the large novel with me to L.A. Whoa! It's a heady trip and I'm still not sure what it means or how Rowling's possibly going to wrap this up in only one more book.

While I was out there, I read two books: Guardian of the Horizon by Elizabeth Peters and Can't Buy Me Love by Chris Kenry. On the flight out, I had a bit more time to read than I anticipated. Tell you about it soon.

Cheers!