A: Mostly I straddle reality and the imagination. My reality needs imagination like a bulb needs a socket. My imagination needs reality like a blind man needs a cane. Math is hard. Reading a map. Following orders. Carpentry. Electronics. Plumbing. Remembering things correctly. Straight lines. Sheet rock. Finding a safety pin. Patience with others. Ordering in Chinese. Stereo instructions in German.
Q: What’s wrong with the world?
A: We are buried beneath the weight of information, which is being confused with knowledge; quantity is being confused with abundance and wealth with happiness. Leona Helmsley’s dog made 12 million last year… and Dean McLaine, a farmer in Ohio made $30,000. It’s just a gigantic version of the madness that grows in every one of our brains. We are monkeys with money and guns.
Q: Favorite scenes in movies?
A: R. De Niro in the ring in Raging Bull. Julie Christie’s face in Heaven Can Wait when she said, “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” James Dean in East of Eden telling the nurse to get out when his dad has had a stroke and he’s sitting by his bed. Marlena Dietrich in Touch of Evil saying “He was some kind of man.” Scout saying “Hey Mr. Cunningham” in the scene in To Kill A Mockingbird. Nic Cage falling apart in the drug store in Matchstick Men…and eating a cockroach in Vampire’s Kiss. The last scene in Chinatown.
Oh my goodness! So I step inside the theater and see Mandy Patinkin is already sitting on stage talking to Paul Ford, his pianist. The usher shows me to the front row (front row!) and I realize Mandy Patinkin isn’t talking to Paul Ford, he’s running through his lines—for Prospero, in The Tempest—as the audience members find their seats and continue to chat, although certainly nothing in my day so far has contained anything that’s more interesting than watching Mandy Patinkin rehearse for The Tempest. And I also realize this all sounds way too precious, and maybe you would have thought so even if you’d been there beside me, but please. I’m the kind of girl who eats that shit up.
Also, this conversation, with a woman a couple seats down from me:
“Mr. Patinkin!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you say, ‘My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.’?”
“Are you a rich lady?”
“No.”
“Then we can’t afford it.”
Or something to that effect.
Anyway, I sat right here, and Mandy Patinkin stood right up there, in a shorter version of his Georges Seurat beard which by now is almost all gray and actually makes him look a little like Stephen Sondheim, and he sang “Children and Art” to me, and “Sunday,” and “Franklin Shepard Inc.” and “Bring Him Home” (during which the lady next to me nearly died from excitement), and some Tom Waits and some John Lennon and yes, some Yiddish, and “Oklahoma” and “Over the Rainbow,” and then he sang this—the first minute of which is close to my favorite minute of music in the whole entire world, and the rest of which wouldn’t kill you to hear, either: Pleasant Little Kingdom / Too Many Mornings (from Follies, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. He did both as solos, but “Too Many Mornings” is a duet with Judy Blazer on his albumOscar & Steve).
Today was a staged reading of Wendy Wasserstein’s “Pamela’s First Musical,” with music by Cy Coleman and lyrics by David Zippel, to benefit Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and the Open Doors mentoring program. Based on Wasserstein’s children’s book, the musical was completed after both she and Coleman passed away. What a lovely tribute it was to them both, and to Broadway and New York, to the power of imagination, blank stages, blank pages, children who feel out of place and those larger-than-life grownups who help them find their way. Starring little Lila Coogan as Pamela and the ever-fabulous Donna Murphy as her fabulous Aunt Louise, with special appearances by Gregg Edelman, Carolee Carmello, Lynn Ahrens, Stephen Flaherty, Tommy Tune, Lillias White, Sandy Duncan, Donna McKechnie, Kathie Lee Gifford, and even—yes—Michael Riedel. The perfect antidote to a rainy day, the perfect wish to build a dream on. The minute the lights came up, Sarah said “I want to see it again.” Except there is no again: that’s where the magic comes from.
And ooh, darling! Please bring Donna Murphy back to Broadway! How many times do I have to ask?
Somehow over the past 20 years my mind mixed together Beckett with Pinter and then capped them both off with “Zoo Story,” which I’ve just come to find out was written by neither. Crazy up there! We went to see “Endgame” because of Stritchie, you know, but it was stellar all around (I thought Max Casella—you will remember him as Vinnie of “Doogie Howser” fame—was the breakout). Something in me was itching to hate it—such meaningfulness about meaninglessness reflexively ruffles my feathers—but I enjoyed it quite a lot, while remaining deeply disturbed. Those two sad old people trapped in those crumpled little trash cans, and that simple line, “Go and see is she dead.” Knowing she would be dead. And “You’re on earth, there’s no cure for that!” And the poetry of it. Almost did me in.
Also, sitting one row in front of us: Kate Winslet and Sam Mendes, with Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard right in front of them. Nice.
So! It’s come to my attention that it’s spring, and therefore time to break out the toes. I don’t work “outside the home,” as they say (and most of the time don’t do much work inside the home, either), but if you’re taking it to the streets and the office, you would do well enough by these little numbers.
It is said that New Yorkers are rude, but I think what people mean by that is that New Yorkers are more familiar. The man who waits on you in the delicatessen is likely to call you sweetheart. (Feminists have gotten used to this.) People on the bus will say, “I have the same handbag as you. How much did you pay?” If they don’t like the way you are treating your children, they will tell you. And should you try to cut in front of somebody in the grocery store checkout line, you will be swiftly corrected. My mother, who lives in California, doesn’t like to be kept waiting, so when she goes into the bank, she says to the people in the line, “Oh, I have just one little thing to ask the teller. Do you mind?” Then she scoots to the front of the line, takes the next teller and transacts her business, which is typically no briefer than anyone else’s. People let her do this because she is an old lady. In New York, she wouldn’t get away with it for a second.
My guess is Michael and Jan get engaged, due to an unexpected pregnancy, or something worse. Or else Michael gets engaged to a total stranger, because that’s how dumb and desperate he is. It can’t be Pam and Jim, or only Pam and Jim — that’s too easy.
Anyway, I’m ready for this season to be over; it was 75% forgettable.
UPDATE [SPOILER ALERT!]: Well, I was about 60% right. And Kevin was definitely the MVP.
