What a dick!

(I borrowed the title for this posting from the TimeOut review of Richard II, my show). I don't read reviews of my projects anymore, but I had that particular caption quoted to me 11 times yesterday, so I feel equipped to use it myself.)

The show is going very well, since you ask. Audiences have been steadily growing, reviews have been mixed to good (so I've heard), and the cast seems to be relaxing and enjoying everything they're doing. And it really is different every night. I know I say that about every show I do, but with this one it's very much the truth. A lot of it has to do with our specific and particular energies on any given night. People in the show seem to be actually listening to and responding to each other every night, which is supposed to be a given but isn't true a lot of the time.

So that's that. Over and out.

Post-move theatricals!

The move is done! As of yesterday I have not only a roof and a door but also a working stove, a phone line, internet access, and groceries! I feel alive!

Constant warring goes on between the landlord and I, however, because the poor sauce simply won't give me a lease. I signed the thing nearly 2 months ago, and after passing it off to his "bookkeeper," the man promised to get a copy to me ASASASAP. That was June 17th. I've since heard the following excuses:
"It's not ready."
"It's ready, but it's at my office, and I don't have it."
"I'll bring it tomorrow" (this was 10 days ago)
"Why do you need it?"
"I haven't started on it yet." (I've seen it , and it's finished).
"I need to get it to my bookkeeper so he can look at it." (this after the "bookkeeper" had already allegedly had it for a month or so).

My favorite is when he behaves as though asking for a copy of my own lease is equivalent for bawling him out at 3 am because he won't build a tennis court on the roof rightfuckingnow. It's like this is the most outlandish, self-indulgent request ever made by a tenant. And he never makes reference or admits to the fact that I've asked him for it 87 million times. Every time I ask him for it it's, "Oh. Your lease? Hmmm...your LEASE..ohhhhh. It's being FedExed to my grandson who isn't born yet from an outpost in Kazakstan. They don't have a fax machine yet, but any day now. I'll sure let you know just as soon as I can."

All together now: "BULLSHIT."

In happier news, I met my across-the-hall neighbor, and she's extremely cool. We had a little commisserate-fest the other night at my kitchen table. Turns out she's been here since May and she had to call him every day for two weeks to get a refrigerator and stove put in! Wow!

At least now I can use the net from home and receive snail-mail. (For a long time the landlord wouldn't give anyone keys to the mailboxes). So now I can actually invoice people and actually get their checks when they send them to me! Amazingly, my landlord responded well when I reminded him that I can't really pay rent unless he makes it possible for my to get my paychecks. We're all drawing from the same well here, G-bot.