Today’s alarm came from a woman outside screaming on her cellphone. Her life was falling apart before our very ears. She was loud. The word “fuck” ripped through her throat. My fingers scissored open the blinds. She was across the street with her back to us. She stood in front of her bike. And she stood completely still while she continued to scream for ten minutes. I didn’t think it was her until a particularly blood-curtling “fuck” shook her head. It was sad and scary.
The Sunday matinee for Rush sold out. It was our best show yet. The cast found a vein of gold in energy and rhythm. The band wasn’t too shabby either.
Unfortunately, in my direct line of vision for the whole show sat an unhappy obese woman brewing with hate in the front row. She looked like Leslie and the LYs, but without irony or fun, and more hate. I thought witnessing conservatives reacting to a Rush Limbaugh satire would make me giggle, but it only bummed me out. She was such a sad person.
Hey. Shit happens. I wouldn’t let it ruin my day.
The Nurse Novels practiced the six songs for our next studio session on Saturday. These are the songs we don’t know as well. So there were some bumps. But like a school bus, sometimes the bumps are fun.