(no subject)
It pleases me to say that last night was inarguably the best New Year's ever. A bold claim to apply to a seemingly arbitrary, un-rounded year like '06, not unlike Steve Kerr's clutch performance during the '97 finals.
One expects a thunderous, trumpeting celebration from such Jordanesque years as '00, 01 or even '05, but the little calander-year-that-could knocked me on my ass last night, and I have yet to be able to say i've recovered. Michael has no voice, and I dont think he's left the house today if thats any indication.
It was the first "party" we had had in our New York apartment, and we filled it to it's capacity of twelve or so. Oh, but it was a mighty twelve. A strong, determined, single-minded and ruinously drunk twelve.
Of course simply yelling, cavorting, and doing a dangerous number of shots with your friends should be pleasure enough, but it just so happens that we live right off of seventh avenue, which snakes down to Times Square, providing us with a just-around-the-corner view of the whole ball-dropping nonsense. Now, i've never been one to fetishize the "ball" the way many people do, but being right there, we decided to flood out into the street just a few minutes before the moment of truth.
There we were, the indomitable twelve, counting down with suckers who had been waiting there in the cold for hours. The ball dropped, the kissing and yelling and jumping ensued, and I poured Dom Perignon '96 down my friend's throats (Dylan in particular has a taste for fine champagne). Then, we turn to see the breathtaking Central Park fireworks exploding before our eyes (being that we're literally one block below the park).
It was a series of moments in which we all felt total oneness with our city and with each other. Subsequently we proceeded uptown to drink for free at Teal's restaurant, after which followed the obligatory stop at Gray's Papaya, and the incoherent afterpartying in our little apartment. Among the attendees were Kaylen, Diana Morelli, Dylan, Tom, Michael, myself, and several others who are, at the moment, ghostly blurs in my mind.
So hats off to 2006.
In other news, Christmas in California was great. I have never been so appreciative of the weather.
I will be going out on tour from February 5 to April 26th with a musical about the first black regiment of the civil war. It isnt called "Glory, the musical", or even "Glory!", but it should be. At any rate, it got me my Equity card, which has already proven to make my life a lot easier. Unfortunately, it will mean i'm out of town for the heaviest audition season of the year, AND i'll miss the NY Satellite program kids who I was so looking forward to squiring about town. But it was an Equity card, and the pay aint bad.
I continue to love it here. There is more to tell, but this has gone on for long enough.
One expects a thunderous, trumpeting celebration from such Jordanesque years as '00, 01 or even '05, but the little calander-year-that-could knocked me on my ass last night, and I have yet to be able to say i've recovered. Michael has no voice, and I dont think he's left the house today if thats any indication.
It was the first "party" we had had in our New York apartment, and we filled it to it's capacity of twelve or so. Oh, but it was a mighty twelve. A strong, determined, single-minded and ruinously drunk twelve.
Of course simply yelling, cavorting, and doing a dangerous number of shots with your friends should be pleasure enough, but it just so happens that we live right off of seventh avenue, which snakes down to Times Square, providing us with a just-around-the-corner view of the whole ball-dropping nonsense. Now, i've never been one to fetishize the "ball" the way many people do, but being right there, we decided to flood out into the street just a few minutes before the moment of truth.
There we were, the indomitable twelve, counting down with suckers who had been waiting there in the cold for hours. The ball dropped, the kissing and yelling and jumping ensued, and I poured Dom Perignon '96 down my friend's throats (Dylan in particular has a taste for fine champagne). Then, we turn to see the breathtaking Central Park fireworks exploding before our eyes (being that we're literally one block below the park).
It was a series of moments in which we all felt total oneness with our city and with each other. Subsequently we proceeded uptown to drink for free at Teal's restaurant, after which followed the obligatory stop at Gray's Papaya, and the incoherent afterpartying in our little apartment. Among the attendees were Kaylen, Diana Morelli, Dylan, Tom, Michael, myself, and several others who are, at the moment, ghostly blurs in my mind.
So hats off to 2006.
In other news, Christmas in California was great. I have never been so appreciative of the weather.
I will be going out on tour from February 5 to April 26th with a musical about the first black regiment of the civil war. It isnt called "Glory, the musical", or even "Glory!", but it should be. At any rate, it got me my Equity card, which has already proven to make my life a lot easier. Unfortunately, it will mean i'm out of town for the heaviest audition season of the year, AND i'll miss the NY Satellite program kids who I was so looking forward to squiring about town. But it was an Equity card, and the pay aint bad.
I continue to love it here. There is more to tell, but this has gone on for long enough.