Saturday, August 31, 2002

Last day. Laaaaaaast day.

It's appropraite weather here for a closing--gray, tumbling skies, a little rain, definite signs that fall is on its way. I do feel some conflict--most of me is very much ready for the show to close; after all, it's a one-man show, so it's not as if I need worry it will never be performed again in the future. On the other hand, I will miss the Cherry Lane, the beautiful light plot and the magnificent set by Russell Champa and Louisa Thompson, I'll miss horchata at Burritoville and the meat skewers at the Grange Hall, watching weirdos on 7th Avenue, watching the trees on Commerce Street blossom, turn green and now, fall away. Even though I got sick of it for a while, I think I will miss signing books after the show--I loved hearing thousands of people tell me their stories, where they came from, who they've worked for and can be tiring, but it is a good kind of work, a work I am suited for, and I'm so thankful that I've found this.

The future is daunting but full--new projects loom up ahead, and I need to collect myself, clean up my props, shut down the lights out on 21DY as a daily concern and turn my mind elsewhere. It's time, but it's definitely a little bittersweet.

Well, this is it. I'd better go get down to the theater.