Champagne and Junior Mints

I keep forgetting how powerfully theatre can affect me.

Then I keep getting reminded.

I went to New York today. I had the idea Thursday, mostly because there's a show I've been wanting to see, and it's closing at the end of the month after having already been extended a couple of times. Grey Gardens is based on the 1970s documentary of the same name, about the later days of two of Jacqueline Kennedy (nee Bouvier)'s female relatives. The first act shows them both in 1941, then the second act moves to 1973, when the two, mother and daughter, are on hard times.

It's a difficult show to watch. Certainly not crude, not overly forceful (it's not like, for example, the Marsha Norman play Getting Out). But tremendously affecting. I was crying at several different points in the show, and I didn't care. It was enormously cathartic, bringing together all the things I love about theatre. Complex ideas, flamboyant characters, and beautiful women singing beautifully about heartbreaking things.

At intermission, I had some champagne and Junior Mints. It was exactly the right combination.

I really, really hope this show is produced again, and soon. It's a small musical, but an important and distinct one. Why the hell does the world need crap like The Lion King when something like this exists a block and a half away?

I ended up not having company today at all. A woman -- a writer and social worker from Manhattan -- answered my post from yesterday about joining me at the last minute, but had other plans. In the end, I'm somewhat glad I saw and did everything today alone. It would have been uncomfortable to be with someone new with inexplicable tears rolling off my cheeks.

Prior to the show, I had dinner at Angelo & Maxie's at 19th and Park Avenue South. While I was there, a table of 20 was seated for what was apparently some guy's 18th birthday. The last time I saw that many New Jerseyans in one place, it was in a big building in the suburbs with a Macy's at one end and a lot of parking. I told the waitress they had New Jersey written all over them. She laughed against her best efforts to control it. I had an excellent steak, four of the largest cold shrimp I've seen in years, and a terrific cheesecake with some Fonseca ten-year-old tawny port.

New York is closer than I think. Laden with theatre and beautiful women who unfortunately think flip-flops are suitable for dinner out. They... are not.

The Volkswagen got over 28mpg on its way to Manhattan, even at over 75mph.

Right now, I am in a hotel room in Newark, Delaware. It's supposed to have wireless, but it does not, or at least what's here isn't connecting. That's OK, I have a phone, so I have a network.

I am liking the new MacBook's keyboard. Oh, I don't think I told you: I broke down and bought a new MacBook Pro. The Intel-based speed demon. Before leaving this morning, I set it up for dual-boot, and I tell you, seeing the Windows logo come up on an Apple laptop almost made me throw up on my bedroom floor.