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January 14, 2020:


Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, I’m back from the Ovation Awards.  This was a first-time nomination for Doug and for me.  They waited to send us our seat assignments until very late on Sunday evening.  When I saw what they were, I suspected the writing was on the wall – Row R.  I could not imagine they’d be seating any winners that far back in the house on the side.  We arrived and were in the red-carpet line and I ran into a fellow nominee in my category and her show was also in Doug’s category.  Doug asked her where she was sitting and she said, “Row D.”  Well, that only solidified what we already suspected. Row R became a mantra for the entire evening and that was quite entertaining. What wasn’t entertaining was that whoever did these seat assignments could be so tunnel-visioned as to think it wouldn’t be blatantly obvious that being seated that far from the stage meant someone else would be winning.  Shame on them for being so tunnel-visioned, and hopefully they will rethink that stupidity next year.

We hung out in the lobby and saw lots of friends, some nominated, some just there.  When we went in, we found we were not only in Row R, but all the way to the left side of Row R.  That only solidified what we already suspected.  Then the show began with an incomprehensible and terrible opening number.  The host was George Salazar and he was personable, certainly.  They began giving out awards pretty quickly, but someone had written patter for the presenters – like really bad, really unfunny patter, and the patter was allowed to go on and on and on, while the winners got forty-five seconds.  Salazar asked that no one applaud until the last name in a category had been read.  Well, that didn’t happen and there was the usual hooting and hollering by each clique of folks.  About an hour into the proceedings, some young gal came out and spoke for about ten minutes, reading off cards, and boring everyone to tears about how great the organization is that does the Ovation Awards, back patting in extremis, and when she finally finished, ANOTHER person came out and spoke interminably.  The whole affair was kind of like that, and whoever is running the show there should try and get a professional to structure and direct the evening.

Now, most of the winners were not actually in attendance.  The ones who were there were all seated up front.  Well, that only solidified what we already suspected.  Finally, it was time for our awards.  Best book of a musical was first.  They read the three nominees, Doug being the middle of the three.  The winner was Broncho Billy, the Musical and the book writer was not in attendance.  Now, I happened to have seen the show and let me just say that Doug could teach them a thing or two about the writing the book of a musical.  But his not winning told me that there was about to be a repeat of that in my category, and indeed there was, with that same musical winning best score.  And those winners were all seated in: Row D.  Here’s our names in the program.

Despite us knowing there was an after party, we bailed soon thereafter and went to the Smoke House for a nice, celebratory meal.   While it’s always nice to win something, it’s also nice to be nominated and know your work appealed to someone. Perhaps some other time, although if that should ever happen and I get Row R, I shan’t even bother attending.

Prior to all that, I got eight hours of sleep, got up, answered e-mails, dealt with a bit of a disaster I’m dealing with that is making me very unhappy, but then went to my happy place, my book, and I wrote over thirty pages, crossing page 600 (in manuscript pages), before I had to shave and shower and then mosey on over to Doug’s, where Hartley and Dorathy and I took an Uber downtown.

The theater where the event was held was long dormant, but they’ve done a nice job of cleaning it up, which is nice since it was a grand movie palace at one time, the United Artists Theater.  Downtown is barely recognizable anymore, with tons of new buildings, but still the stench of a sleazy neighborhood.

Dinner at the Smoke House was lovely, and we were laughing it up the whole time.  Then it was back to Doug’s and then I came right home to write these here notes, which, by the way, I am not writing from Row R.

Today, I’ll be up by eleven at the latest, and rather than futz and finesse, I’ll keep on going, as I don’t think there’s more than twenty pages to go until I finish.  I’ll eat, hopefully pick up some packages, pray for a big ol’ miracle, and then we have our first Kritzerland rehearsal, which ends around six-thirty.  I then have to hurry to the theater for our play rehearsal, which goes to ten.  Then I’ll come home and either finish the book or, if I’ve already done so, futz and finesse all these pages that I haven’t futzed and finessed, which will take a few hours, for sure.

Tomorrow, I have to finish futzing and finessing, then I’ll print out all the pages (I have to buy another ream of paper to do so), then I’ll print them out and take them to Muse Margaret.  We have our evening rehearsal.  Thursday, I think we have a little two-hour work session for the concert, and also I have to write the commentary for the Kritzerland show.  Then it’s another rehearsal. Friday is our second Kritzerland rehearsal, followed by a play rehearsal, and Saturday we have a morning play rehearsal and then our stumble-through.  Sunday, I’ll be up very early and we do our sound check and then show.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, by up by eleven, I’ll write until it’s time for the rehearsal, but I’ll also eat and hopefully pick up packages, then have a play rehearsal.  Today’s topic of discussion: What do you think of the Oscar nominations?  Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, where I shall hopefully not have a dream about Row R.

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