No, this is not a political manifesto. Rather, it is a plug for the show I'm in, "Son at the Front." Hey listen to these exciting scene setters: 1917, Oklahoma (yes, there are beautiful mornings), and...gay Indians? Hey, it's a modern piece of drama. Something has to be gay to "give it edginess."
So this is a fun staged reading where we walk around and dramatically read the script. Crazy times. I, the Barry, play Alfred Hill, the son at the front's stepdad (yes, I know for those who have followed my illustrious acting career, this is the third, maybe fourth, father figure I've played. I'm dealing with it).
The craziest thing about this play is that we started rehersals last Friday and it goes on Thursday night. Pretty quick turn-around, I'd say. But it's a good time, and I'm pretty excited. Except now I have to find some slacks to buy. Story of my life.
And I have to wake early tomorrow to try to find some exceedingly hard to find fabric swatches for my "crafts for the stage" (read "sewing") class on Wednesday. I went all the way to friggin Evanston today to find that store only had one of the three samples I needed. And with my ka-razy rehersal schedule this week, it's hard to find any time to go on a Textile Adventure. Oh, in case you were wondering, the fabric I have to find is "wool melton." Hey, it's used to make army coats, in case you are ever on some sort of Domestic Jeopardy.
That made me think "The Wool Meltons" would be a good rock band name, considering the whole miltaristic meaning behind stuff and stuff. Humor me.
Don't make me wool your melton,
Barry
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1 comment:
I'd rather you not wool anything of mine.
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