Things I've learned in the city

If you're wondering what that smell is on the subway, a homeless man is about to ask for money. And ask God to bless you when you give him nothing.

If you think that's vomit on the sidewalk, it is.

Don't text and walk. You step in tourists and dog poo.

If someone tries to stop you as you're passing on the street, don't. It's either a conman or a tourist. If someone asks, "can I ask you something?" on the street, walk faster. It's definitely a tourist.

When you see a rat kind in the subway, it means the train isn't coming anytime soon.

If someone smells in the winter, he's homeless. If someone smells in the summer, he's a hipster.

You can always judge a book by it's cover, and you'll wish you had if you ignore your instinct to avoid eye contact.

Whenever someone knows a great place just over that way, it's going to be lame, and you're going to walk at least eleven blocks to get there. At least.

My idea of cheap is not your idea of cheap is not his idea of cheap is not her idea of cheap is not someone else's idea of cheap.

The elderly are just as vicious as everyone else, we just underestimate them.

Visa is actually a glamour foundation giving grants to aspiring "istas" of all kinds.

Starbucks are public toilets, in more ways than one.

Everyone knows three neighborhoods like their hometowns and nowhere else in the city. 

Everyone "j'dore"s the museums, but no one goes.

Everyone is on their way, but no one's there yet.

And most importantly: 2 am + 5 cocktails + Bushwick = TAXI!

That's just a little something from a new book I'm working on...

My First Dream Cast: Urinetown

Here is my first dreamcast. This is a la a Roundabout fundraiser reading:

Urinetown

Bobby Strong:                 Cheyenne Jackson

Hope:                                Kristin Chenoweth

Ms. Pennywise:              Patti LuPone

Officer Lockstock:         Will Ferrel (who suddenly does Broadway)

Little Sally:                     Kerry Butler

Mr. Cladwell:                  Nathan Lane

Oh, we got trouble...

September 2009

The real trouble with theatre today is not what's happening on the stage, it's what's going down in the audience. Theatre isn't developing into some disney-fied, hot commercial mess so mich as the stage is devolving to meet the needs of its patrons. Middle America has been deep fried and made lazy and it's catching up to our culture. Soon there will be little difference between the American Airlines Theatre and the Regal next door, both covered in Times Square neon on the outside and devoid of content on the inside, just the way Americans like it.

Case in point: I treated myself to a Pulitzer-Prize Winning play this weekend, and just as it was about to start six people arrived slurping sodas and unwrapping their Twizzlers. I suddenly wondered if I'd wandered into Finding Nemo. I kept waiting for someone to pull out Nachos. 

And this is only the beginning. Immediately after the rustling-wrapper gang settled in, the house lights went down and the show began, or I assume it did. It was hard to tell; the ushers flashlights were brighter than the fresnels as party after party of late-comers husseled to their seats. Because it's so very difficult to arrive on time for the theatre. After all, surely the 700 other audience members and star actors will wait until you manage to show up. 

Here's a thought: Get to the theatre on time. Eat your candy in the lobby. Make those people wait outside to slurp and much and fumble instead of letting their mayhem into the audience. 

Of course, there have been many periods in our cultural history when the drama was a secondary element at the theatre, and people still go to performances for the social element, but it is still polite to at least sit down, shut up, and pretend to pay attention for appearances sake. Can't we hide our ignorance?

It's been said by a thousand harping, bi-polar thespians before, and it will be again, but actors are working on stage. And furthermore, designers, directors, and various assundry artists worked to create a look, an environment, and even an experience. Try not to be too obtuse and stuffed with licorice to appreciate that.

So my point is that we're all assholes, including self-important divas with blogs, but more importantly, if you think your theatre should come with refreshments like a romantic comedy at the multi-plex, then go see the Little Mermaid. Let's keep the mayhem centralized.