For god's sake I hope you're not coming here for reviews. I can’t do reviews, which is why I was a failure as both an English major* and anything resembling a journalist—analysis on a purely emotional level, that's my bag. Plus most of my opinions are endlessly changeable on any given day, driven by mood, hormones, weather, access to french fries, and the general state of my hair. So don't come here looking for reviews.
Of course that won't stop me from telling you to go see "Adding Machine" at the Minetta Lane Theatre, because despite all of my flaws I do have excellent taste. And surely this is the first time in my life that I've cried at the words "Ham and eggs!" sung by a murderer on death row. And the first time I've cried at the sight of that same portly murderer literally picking up his prison cell and clutching it to him like a ballerina's tutu in order to waltz, one last time, with his equally portly nag of a wife. And the first time I've cried at the reunion of two lost souls—floating in Elysian Fields—while praying that this was really their end.
Um, it wasn't, and you can tell that because—as you can see here—we are taken straight from "A Pleasant Place" in Scene 6 into something called "The Machine" to wrap things up. And that's probably all you need to know about whether or not this is the right piece of theater for you.
In other news, I sat next to a young woman who happened to be an actress. She's doing "Doubt" in the spring, in Colorado, playing Sister James. All of the signs lately have been telling me moving to LA is a bad idea, and having her admit that she recently sold her gold jewelry IN ORDER TO KEEP EATING frankly didn't help all that much. Especially because I don't own any gold jewelry and really like to eat. But I seem to be running out of options at every turn. Now what remains to be seen is whether the ultimate decision will be A) a failure of nerve / triumph of the senses, or B) a mad, ill-planned, unprepared dash for an improbable dream.
Obviously in the end I'll choose B, and what'll happen is I'll close my eyes and say "Fuck it, I'm going."** Which is exactly the way I cross the street against the light. So at least that should be fun for you all to watch.
*And actually I did pretty well as an English major.
**"Fuck it, I'm staying."