Fences at SCR

I had an evangelical experience last Friday at the Rep. I saw August Wilson's "Fences".

At the end I turned to my friend Brad and I said, "It was like seeing a production in London or New York.", truly spectacular, breathtaking theatre. Here in LA, the theatre suffers from either the 99-cent production quagmire, where there is no money, too much/little rehearsal and often uneven or slipshod productions, or the throw massive money and TV stars school of production, which is often bland and unsatisfying. When you can pay actors what they are worth (and I mean actors, not celebrities) give them a beautiful set and have the good luck and foresight to give them the gift of a truly great script. Alchemy. Gold. A thrilling night of theatre.

But what really got to me about "Fences", and I know I am coming late to the game here, was the WORDS. My god, those words, that come out of the actors mouths, are gifts. Shakespearean topics, the best kind of universality. I am not black, I did not grow up with the experiences these characters did, but it doesn't matter. The WORDS are so compelling, the story so well woven, you can't imagine what comes next. I'm not an old King either, but I bet Troy could give Lear a run for his money.

Going to the theatre should always be thrilling, exciting, compelling. This is why jukebox musicals and the like don't hold any appeal to me. They are concerts, a different beast, not particularly universal and like cotton candy, forgettable the second you've consumed them.

If You Seek... Wha???!!!

Good year so far! My prize student gets the role of her dreams , my beloved Tommish gets a publishing offer for his murder mystery, Darling You Slay Me, Caddie W is in the hands of the TOP publishing houses, Lionel is kicking preschool A$%, and my cat has stopped biting me. In the yuk zone: Garage is flooded, I drove in a tornado today, I'm not in THAT show. I'm still overweight.... But at least I'm not Britney.
I think poor lil' Miss Spears is SERIOUSLY, developmentally disabled. I watch her videos, and she is so BLANK!? I really wonder if she knows what she is auto-tuning about. Or does her sicko dad put her into BDSM mufti and let her sing about Amy, take all her money, and hope she doesn't do a Flowers for Algernon on him? She seems too dumb to be real. And what happened to her neck? Does childbirth distort the jaw so much that she now looks out of proportion? Britney! Your weird neck and short arms disturb me!

And in the end....

Lilo and I had Pho today. We had spent a good deal of time at the park today, dealing with the horrid mommies. (So many people have told me all my new friends will be the mommies I meet. Yech. Fussy, awful, stick up the bottom ladies. I have NO desire to seek them out. Unless they are covered in ink. And that's only contingent on it being ink I like.) Anyhow the Pho was had on Anaheim St in LB across from McD's on the corner of Redondo, Pho Hong Phat, where Lisa Jacobs had taken me for my first taste of Pho years before.
Pho is heavenly. Especially when I am on THAT time of the month. Make of it what you will, but Vietnamese food is all I crave. So L and I stopped into this tiny, hole in the wall shop, 10 minutes before closing and slurped from soup heaven. L loves the noodles and the atmosphere. I love the fishy soup, the rare steak and the citrus.
Thinking of Lisa, I realize, she's been dead 2 years. She fought cancer for so goddam long. And today is the anniversary of T's sister Polly's death, 3 years ago. Polly didn't fight death, exactly. She danced with it.
I munch long noodles with my long limbed boy, and long for old friends. And connection. I love my old friends. As for making new friends...I'll wait till someone comes along who is interesting and funny and dry. Someone who will come eat Pho with me, with no hesitation.