xtcian

11/24/02 Well, if you're going

11/24/02

Well, if you're going to have an I Heart NY weekend, you might as well document it especially me, since I've had a dearth of those lately. Once in a while the city reminds you why you flocked here in the first place, a gathering of such incredible minds and quixotic ambition that, for a brief second, you forget about all the bus exhaust, the urine, the insanely rude people, and the mixed drinks that cost $14 before the tip.

Saturday night we saw Take Me Out, a play about the repercussions of a major baseball player revealing his sexual identity. Our friend Dan Kois wrote a similar play a few months back for the 24-hr Plays, except that Dan's was ten minutes and "Take Me Out" had two intermissions. Still the dialogue was terrific, and though the play never knew what it wanted to be, it was never boring (which is my big beef with theater) and our friends Fred Weller and Dominic Fumusa were terrific. The real revelation to me, however, was Denis O'Hare, whose delightfully, slightly-repressed gay accountant to the "out" player is so good as to defy convincing. Just go see this thing; you'll understand. He delivers a soliloquy that should be a prerequisite for all actors who want to work in the biz.

Afterwards, we went out with Fred Weller and his girlfriend Ally to Haveli's on 2nd Avenue, and had a terrific hang with them both. I've known Fred since I was a spastic 18-year-old freshman, and watching his evolution from gorgeous, surreal fratboy to serious Broadway actor has been really satisfying. He always told great stories, which is fitting, because most of other people's stories are about him. I'll also be forever indebted to him for his impeccable work on the Pink House movie at a time when other actors were being rather difficult, he was a breath of fresh air, nailing his lines and looking damned dapper as our 1929 antagonist.

me, Fred, Ally and Tessa freezing our asses off

Tonight after a botched day of sleeping through hoops, then missing my own team beat ODU while I was looking for parking – ended nicely at a dinner party held by Colin Beavan and his wife Michelle. Among the crowd were the writer Pippin Parker, the hilarious Jen Albano, our own Matty Dawson, and some other folks I'd seen at Tuesdays@9 over the years.

It was the kind of conversation that I thought New York would offer every night, but alas, you only get concentrated intellect like this every month or two, even in this city. I brought the evening to a weird halt by asking our hosts what they considered to be the "basic fight" they keep having over and over. To be fair, I offered the one that Tessa and I keep having ("she wants me to do stuff and I don't want to do stuff") even though this got us off on a tangent of the etymology of the verb "to nag," and then, of course, to birthin' babies. As we sled headlong into the snowy plains of our thirties, I imagine this is a conversation that will only increase in intensity.

One thing, though: if you're a guy, don't tell anyone you want to have lots of kids with your fiance. It makes you look like a sexist, hegemonic breeder with serious cock issues. Take it from me.

on the way home, Tessa nestles into the company of a gaggle of Jewish Orthodox French schoolkids

Oh, and HI Liz Benjamin!