Shakespeare

Saw "The Taming of The Shrew" at the old alma mater last night. Josh told me about it and I talked Jessica into going with us. Outside the building we ran into Steve, my old acting teacher, former director and (n a separate story) former real estate client. We hugged, it was damned good to see him and he doesn't look a lick different. It was strange to walk into the Tisch building again, it's coming on five years in May and I basically spent my whole freaking life in that building for four years.

There were lots young actors hanging out in movement pants and tights. I felt old, really old. I ran into some familiar faces and there was the uncomfortable exchange of the ol' "what have you been doing" thing. It's unique among BFAs, you kind of sniff one anothers' butt to see who is and isn't working in theatre. I've been letting theatre go lately, but it hasn't been that easy. Something has felt missing. Every once an a while I'll look to the left of my TV and glance at my complete works of Shakespeare. Haven't cracked it yet, but now I think I shall. This past Thursday marked the bard's 442nd bithday (he also shares a birthday with Hitler, the 8th anniversary of the Columbine Massacre and the international day of smoking pot).

I have pretty strong opinions about how I see my Shakespeare. I can be a little bitch about it in fact. I dug on some of the performances, the woman who played Petrucio, two of the smaller ensemble actors were great. Steve did a grand job of setting the scene, breaking the fourth wall and some of the theatrical shit he did (difficult to write) were great. Hats off!

Some of the casting I wish was better, which made me do a kind of Fantasy Baseball Shakespeare. If he was 30 years younger and classically train Kris Kristofferson would have made one ass kicking Petruchio.


Afterwards, Josh and I rode like assholes back to Brooklyn. We passed some guy on the first major ramp of the bridge who slammed past us on the next incline. I made a feeble attempt to catch him again on the uphill, but I didn't have a damned thing.

There was a party at Andrew and TK's pad and Josh and I witnessed the last 10 minutes of a rousing game of asshole. TK, the asshole, had to let us in and Julia made everyone who pissed her off say something especially nice about her before drinking. Laura was in a fine mood and the night ended with an empty flask of whisky, a cold bike ride home and Laura showering with the Pig to clean him off.