I record the morning broadcast and the Chap and I watch it together in the evening after the nightly news. And, as I admitted to Jill Hurst, even when we leave the country I tape the final 15 minutes of each episode, to keep up with what's going on.
Attending her presentation was my only official conference-ing yesterday. The Chap and I had a brunch date with my dear, dear friend, an actor/playwright/musician whom I've known and loved for most of my life. Our reunions are infrequent--because I don't come to NY as often as I should--but so very valuable.
During our meal we talked very little of the past, and not at all of productions we did together. We spoke of our present lives, and our parents and our siblings and our other relationships. Books we'd read (or not read), plays we've seen (or not seen).
He is a founding member and sometime performer and playwright for an off-Broadway theatre located in the Garment District. Last time we were here, it had just moved into its new location, still partly under construction. It's thriving now, and of course we wanted to see it again. So we walked four blocks north and one block west and there we were. The tech crew was setting up for the first preview, a sell-out. (Show opens next week, it stars Austin Pendleton).
Here's the outside of one of several performing spaces.
Posters for past productions.
We parted ways in the lobby. The Chap and I returned to our hotel. I succumbed to my dread disease, sleeping away the rest of the day. He went walkabout, down to Chelsea Market and elsewhere, and returned with photographs of daffodils blooming on the grounds of General Theological Seminary (I know priests and bishops who attended GTS) and ornamental fruit trees in flower.
I'm back to attending workshops today. The Chap headed to the Brooklyn Art Museum and hopes to fulfill his ambition of walking the Brooklyn Bridge.
Lunch break is nearly over, time to return to the ballroom to acquire more publishing savvy and writing inspiration.
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