Well, dear readers, first things first, which is better than first things second or second things fifth. Today is Father’s Day, a day in which we celebrate the fathers amongst us (you know who you are) and even our own fathers. I, for example, am a father of a Darling Daughter – she sent me cherries for Father’s Day. Anyone who wants to know about my Darling Daughter and how wonderful a time we had when she was growing up can read either my short story, Adventures With My Father, or my first memoir, There’s Mel, There’s Woody, and There’s You, which is for much of the book a love letter to her. So, a very happy Father’s Day to all you fathers out there in the dark.
Yesterday was, I suppose, a perfectly okay day in the scheme of things. I think I just got about eight hours of sleep, then got up, did my morning stuff, then went and had some chicken tenders, after which I came right back home. From that point on I have no idea what I did. I think I did some work on the computer, but I really cannot for the life of me remember how that afternoon’s hours went by. I only know that at five-thirty it was time to be on my way to sit with some folks in a café and then see a show.
The café is next to the Hudson Theater, where we did What If – astonishing that that will have its eleventh anniversary this year. This is a show that friend Barry Pearl directed for the Fringe festival. I’m not a huge fan of the Fringe festival or any Fringe festival – just too much meta in the musicals and occasional pretension in the plays. Our very own critical critic Rob Stevens overdoses on the Fringe festival and he’s a better man than I, Gunga Din. I do know he’s enjoyed several shows this year. In the café we had a few of the kids from Barry’s production of 13 – and since I always enjoy that energy, I had a lot of fun. All I ate was some fruit, but this café thought it was appropriate to put in little green things that I think were basil, which were just gross. Also there were Barry, his BFF Kenny and obviously the parents of the kids.
Then we all filed into the theater (not the space that What If was in) – thoughtfully, Barry had all our seats taped off. The show is a new musical about songwriters in the 1980s trying to come up with a song for Madonna. So, the music, which is all original, has the 80s vibe. Unfortunately, I don’t like the 80s vibe so it was not anything I was ever going to be interested in. I would just say that despite a good cast and a director who kept it all moving along, the show needs a lot of work. The songs are way too similar too much of the time, and the book needs a good pruning, as there is a lot of repetition and scenes just go on too long. It was a packed house (the show only has three performances, of which this was the second). Not sure who the audience for this is, as we’ve already had Rock of Ages, an 80s musical that at least had the benefit of all the 80s hits. That said, people seem to have nostalgia for that sorry decade, so my feeling is the authors should have a lot more fun with it.
After, I met some of the cast and we all chatted for a bit, then I headed home.
Today, I meet the replacement helper, then I’ll relax, then I’m attending an actual Father’s Day partay, apparently one that’s a huge affair being thrown by Sami’s mother’s mother and father in Encino. I don’t enjoy huge affairs so I don’t know how long I’ll last, but hopefully I won’t feel to awkward.
This entire week will be filled with writing a commentary after locking down a show order, meetings and meals, and seeing a few things, as well as the nail-biting countdown of our Kritzerland a GoGo Indiegogo campaign. We’re praying for a big finish.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, meet the replacement helper, maybe do a jog, and attend a partay. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s free-for-all day, the day in which you dear readers get to make with the topics and we all get to post about them. So, let’s have loads of lovely topics and loads of lovely postings, shall we, as I hit the road to dreamland, as I and other fathers celebrate our very own selves.