Theatrical Debuts

I'm going to the theater tonight, so tonight's post will be a little short.

Tonight is opening night for Closer at the Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, where Roger Mexico works. He knows I like theater, so often he will try to get me comp tickets for the productions that run throughout the year. Lately the shows have been selling well, and I've ended up trekking up to Mount Adams at the last second and ushered to unorthodox seating. (I saw I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change on the last day of the extended run. I had an aisle seat. As in sitting in the aisle.) Not that I care where I sit; I'm very grateful that my friend goes out of his way to do nice things for me, and I try not to take his generosity for granted.

So when he told me he was reserving me a seat for opening night, I pretty much fell off the couch. Of course, he warned, there was one caveat: I had to dress up. Not that I have any qualms against dresses or heels, but since I'll be going straight to the Playhouse from work, I could either bring a change of clothes or dress up for my business casual job.

I'm wearing a suit today. I look like a grown up. Or a mortician, since the suit is black. Or season 6 Scully on The X Files. (Yeah, like I look like Gillian Anderson. I should be so lucky.)

As soon as I get off work, I'll be exchanging my clunky Mary Janes for a pair of 3-inch strappy heels. (This may or may not last, since I haven't worn the heels in a few years, and I may end up twisting an ankle in them.) I'll be heading to the bathroom, plugging in the curling iron, throwing on some makeup, and making myself presentable enough to hobnob with the upper crust.

After the show, who knows? I may end up getting a drink with the crew at their usual opening night hangout. Or I may try to catch up with Nash, who may be doing karaoke up the street. God help me, I may actually sing. (I've been running through a few songs in my range just in case I'm brave enough. Everyone sitting around me thinks I'm insane. Not like that's anything new.)

So, to make this post seem a little longer, I'm unleashing more of my poetry on you. It ain't happy stuff, kids. You have been warned. (For those of you who were at the Volk Gallery show back in July, you've heard this one before.)

...People Who Build Their Houses in Your Heart

this building is condemned.
someone used to live here
you can see where they left their mark.
once a long time ago
someone cared about this place.
but the house is long since vacated
run down
weeds growing around the door
left wide open.
ransacked by countless squatters
lowest common denominators
the dregs of society
passing through
each leaving behind a bit more trash
doing a bit more damage.
all that's left now is a shell
rotted boards and sagging supports
chipped paint and broken windows
faulty wiring, a disaster waiting to happen.
the authorities have tried their best to keep the vagrants out
brick walls and barbed wire to no avail.
the damage is irreparable
time to raze the building and start again
put the lot up for rent
and petition the city for gentrification.

someone used to live here...
but now it's just another abandonded building
in the bad part of town
and not even the shrewdest slumlord in the world
can find a willing tenant.

(June 26, 2000)

Yeah, I know. Maya Angelou's really sweating over me, huh?