O' Diary, got a lead on a production gig out here. Maybe it will bear fruit. Can always sell my beard to the merkin factory, though. Plan B! I like that deal in Macbeth where the three witches are all a'bubble and one of them suddenly stares off into space and is like, "I come, Greymalkin!" She is talking to her magic cuppins!
Malkin, apparently, was a fun name for Maude or Mary. Like, if you had a friend named Mary, you would express your affection by calling her Malkin (kind of like how folks call me Cos sometimes). But Malkin soon came to mean "sloppy chick," I guess because it was "familiar," and lazy. Like proper ladies were Mary and ought not to be hanging out by the wharf with the Malkins. Then it became a name for a cuppins, like the kind of sweet names people have for their pets. So, it was like, "come get some milk-soaked croutons, you dear old Malkin, you." Then it sort of morphed over time to be pronounced Merkin. So...the witch is off to attach her grey old snatch-toupee.
And I wrote that, why?
If I get my act together, I can submit a short play to some friends in New York to be part of a theater event. They've done this sort of thing for a while, successfully, so it will be nice to contribute. The theme is Superheroes, so I have the right background for it, you know, in idea space. I want to do it straight, though. Like, so many superhero plays are parodies, because the author wants the audience to know he isn't a fan-boy. Let's make Superman gay for The Joker, etc. So naughty! I think it will be cool just to have a real, fucking super hero play. So, let's see how that coalesces.
The way the heroin soaked delay-fiends out here are behaving, it may be the only way to get something staged is to send it cross country.
So far having the car has been an opportunity to practice real life. Like, I've been getting Dags to her shows on time, making quick runs to the store to get foaming pipe snakes, etc. Will zip up to the cheap theater today. At some point before it turns back into a Rightful Owner O' Lantern, we want to take pictures of the building shaped like a coffee pot in Tacoma.
O' Diary, big fan of that Autumn Almanac song but mostly because of it being the regular song of a Brooklyn bartender boy an hundred years ago. He used to come out from behind the bar to sing it on karaoke night. From the dew-soaked hedge crept a crawly caterpillar.
The world sounds like: |
Staying Up to Stay Up - The Overlaps |
pleased
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grateful
happy
Read an excerpt from this book
cranky
