I Can Be Your First Degree

Last night I saw the Ed Harris play, "Wrecks", at the Public. Written and directed by our one and only woman hating misogynist would-have-blown-Strindberg-out-of-the-water Neil Labute. The play was fun mostly because Ed Harris was sitting there talking on stage for an hour and the man could make long division look captivating on stage.

Anyhooo....the best part of the eveing has a little back story to it. On Sun I went to go pick up my "Wrecks" ticket when I saw "Durango". When I went to pick up my ticket they said "Oh no...your friend put you down for Sunday (meaning that day) not Tuesday." WELL when Heidi found out about this she gave em hell. So much hell in fact, that this box office girl sat me next to a very special someone:



Kevin Bacon.

The ironic part of the whole thing was this was not the first time Mr. Bacon and I were close. About two years ago he came into a store I was working at on the UWS and had me fit him for a pack for his son who was about to backpack Europe. Yes I touched his body. In case you were wondering.

Anyway, now, the next time you play "Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon"...you know because people actually do that post 1990...you can say "My friend Faetra sat next to Kevin Bacon at a play at the Public called Wrecks."

The Series of Unfortunate Events of November 13th

These are the bad things that happened to me today.

My uncle died. I don't even really know what to say about this right now. I still haven't cried. I still haven't let it sink.

My phone officially broke. My screen appears to be speaking in some kind of satanic tongue and I need to talk to my friends more than anything right now.

The bottoms of my jeans are wet and torn from walking in the rain.

I ran out of green tea.

My bank ran out of the temporary access cards I needed to access all of my money since losing my debit card over the weekend. The new one won't come in the mail until Tuesday.

I want a hug and the apartment is empty.

Pearl Harbor has nothing on the infamy of today.

David Ives and Death

This afternoon I am sitting at my desk processing an application for a theatre company to perform a series of David Ives plays when a call gets patched through to my desk. It's my Dad. He sounds like he's been crying.

"I have bad news"

And I just know. The only question is who. Not my brother, please not my brother... was all I kept thinking.

It was my uncle. He died this morning.

And then I get deja vu. Back in August I was sitting at my desk processing an application for a series of David Ives plays when Heidi got patched through and told me that Larry had died.

For now on I will extra cautious when processing requests to do David Ives plays.

That's all I have right now.

Chair Kickers and Groaners

Today I went to the Public to catch an afternoon performance of the new Julia Cho play "Durango".

And this guy sitting behind me kept kicking my motha f-ing chair. The whole frackin' show long. You would think after the first ten times it happened he would have realized his supercilious legs didn't fit in front of him. But no kick kick kick he went. I mean it's not everyday you get to see an Asian American verison of "Death of a Salesman".

Then it turned out he was a groaner. Now you all know what I mean by groaner. Fordham was loaded with them. It's either a groan or the occasional "huh" . You'll find a few of them in every play you see. Something really great will be said on stage and they as an audience member feel the obligation to let everyone around them know they were affected by verbally responding.

Not the thing to do to me after a night of gin, most of which was still alive and kicking in my blood stream.

Bye bye Rummie bye bye bye...

That's right folks. Democratic controlled congress. Forcing Bush to make the world a safer place, one failure at a time.

Even if they still have no platform.

This is what I propose: VOTE DEMOCRAT IN '08 BECAUSE WE'RE....NOT REPUBLICANS.

But for now, I will be happy.