Feel It

Before anything else transpires here, before I derail myself with something else, let me first toss out a word of celebration, a word of joy, a word of such potent power that many have lain trembling before it:

Rocktober!

Yup, that’s right, welcome to, and happy, Rocktober.

Now to the whiny…

I’ve got a cold. I feel like a plus size stripper walked all over me in her plus size stiletto heels. I have aches that a cranky septuagenarian would consider using their endangered social security on just to have something of worth to complain about. And if you know of anyone in the market, I’m selling cheap.

This typically happens at the end of a show, as if a stress wall is carefully built with the rehearsal process, and the demolition is timed for roughly 12 hours after closing night. The wall implodes, with a bare minimum of mess, and the cold/flu that had been held at bay comes rushing in. And this, my friends, is no way to celebrate Rocktober.

So yeah, we closed the show Saturday to a packed audience that brazenly ignored fire codes to watch us actorate our asses off. I left the show, left the theater, on Saturday night feeling emotional to be sure, but oddly subdued. I believe it’s because I felt I really did some of my best work to date in this show, that I feel fulfilled and that there was little that I could do better.

But now it’s done and will be no more posts about it.

However, the pantsless dance party that followed? There may be more to come, who knows?

The wolves are calling. The traveling circus has come knocking on the door. The gods of quality assurance are seeking a sacrifice. ‘Til Tuesday.


Rocktober song of the day: “Whatever Happened To My Rock & Roll” by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club