OK, now I know I'm getting older. Why? I had to attend two events to celebrate Valentine's night: the "Lights Out" party at Market Hall, and the New Stages play reading. The party started at six. The play at 7:30. My plan was simple, I'd start the evening at Market Hall, have a drink eat some canapes and listen to the speeches. Then at 7:15 I'd head down the block to Showplace, attend the play as Randy's guest, stay for the discussion afterward and head back to conclude the evening at Market Hall. Simple.
Randy was supposed to come back to Market Hall as well.
Plans started to unravel when the play took longer than expected. Then nobody was able to drive the actors back to Toronto so Randy had to do it. I left Showplace with every intention of walking up the block to party on, but it was snowing, I was partnerless and suddenly I was very tired. I figured nobody would notice if I didn't show up, soooo...
driving home I was overcome with happiness knowing that my slippers awaited me. I had a good time, but it was enough. Once upon a time, I would never have gone home at 10:30. I would never have missed the opportunity to meet new people or passed on the action. Oh yes, I'm getting old but that's ok.
One good outcome - I was able to distribute invitations to my show at two venues tonight and three people, like farts in the breeze, said they would come.
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About Me
- kingmisha
- I'm bigger than a pile of breadboxes, but smaller than a Sherman tank. I'm overeducated, underpaid but very content with my life. I have loved infrequently but intensely. I dated a poet, divorced a Dean, had an affair with a jazz pianist, was engaged to a diplomat, and widowed by my child's father. The men in my life were all very special. Not all grand passions but much loved in their time: Leonard Cohen, Alfred Pinsky, Billy Horn, Wendell Goodin, and Elliot Hirschman. Thanks for the memories... I'm a lapsed artist which doesn't really trouble me because I'm a very successful parent. I lacked the requisite conceit to persevere as an artist. I just couldn't make myself believe that my art came before my child. The world really doesn't need another sculptor (even a good one), but it does need another good human being. It can use all the good human beings we can turn out. I present Mambolica as my evidence so judge for yourselves.