Took a long walk in my neighborhood...
I uploaded a whole bunch of new photos at Westherly. There are kitties, panda bigots, life labels, casually magnificent murals, and the Pacific Ocean, among others.
I love oceans. I especially love cold oceans in low light. Being there last night reminded me of my trip to Alkmaar, in December 2003. You can really see how Antikleia would have just started walking in and never turned around.
I saw Golden Gate Park too -- we drove through it. Twice: once in the late afternoon and again at night. I looked through the trees for some flash of steel or fire, but they hid themselves well, despite their worries.
My dad sent me an email last night that a dear friend of the family had passed away suddenly. She was a woman who in presence reminded me of my Aunt Claudia, a wonderful cook and a real sweetheart. Liver cancer. A kaddish for Hilary Fletcher.
Jack Lemmon in The Great Race is like some demented predecessor to Dan Ackroyd and Jack Black. I had to go to bed after the intermission, but what I saw was utterly hysterical.
All of this came about because of, or revolves around, a trip to a Moroccan restaurant that was a goodbye for many people. What is it about Moroccan food and adieux? (Hee! I just wanted to write that to sound all poetical and things.) notemily, there was an incredible bellydancer there -- it was pretty much the first time I'd really seen someone do it outside of walking by classes. I'm half-convinced that most of it is an optical illusion. I was gobsmacked and impressed.
My last day at TheatreWorks is today. Wow.
I love oceans. I especially love cold oceans in low light. Being there last night reminded me of my trip to Alkmaar, in December 2003. You can really see how Antikleia would have just started walking in and never turned around.
I saw Golden Gate Park too -- we drove through it. Twice: once in the late afternoon and again at night. I looked through the trees for some flash of steel or fire, but they hid themselves well, despite their worries.
My dad sent me an email last night that a dear friend of the family had passed away suddenly. She was a woman who in presence reminded me of my Aunt Claudia, a wonderful cook and a real sweetheart. Liver cancer. A kaddish for Hilary Fletcher.
Jack Lemmon in The Great Race is like some demented predecessor to Dan Ackroyd and Jack Black. I had to go to bed after the intermission, but what I saw was utterly hysterical.
All of this came about because of, or revolves around, a trip to a Moroccan restaurant that was a goodbye for many people. What is it about Moroccan food and adieux? (Hee! I just wanted to write that to sound all poetical and things.) notemily, there was an incredible bellydancer there -- it was pretty much the first time I'd really seen someone do it outside of walking by classes. I'm half-convinced that most of it is an optical illusion. I was gobsmacked and impressed.
My last day at TheatreWorks is today. Wow.