I realize I am late for a performance or show in Berkeley that I normally attend. I leave the house with my Clipper card and cross the street. At this point, standing in the BART plaza I know there is realistically not enough time and return home across the street.
As I open the street door, I encounter some sticky vomit on the lower entry stairs and the guys that live downstairs are coming to clean it up. One new ambitious magical slightly balding, bozo-haired roommate is offering to put down some white rug netting to alleviate any further problems. We all discuss the viability of the solution and realize it will not wear well and only get dirtier with use. His girlfriend and I go into the boy's room and discover its sparse furnishings and the origin of the netted mat from an old suitcase in a small closet.
There is a gathering of comics in a familiar corridor (downstairs?) I walk down the long hallway, squeezing through as I encounter throngs of local comedians. The one that I look forward to seeing is John Riggi, I see him at the end of the hallway approaching and am thrilled and expectant at our soon-to-be reunion, but as we get closer it's apparent he will continue walking and only nods acknowledgment as if I am just a passing acquaintance not worthy of a longer conversation. His dismissive acknowledgement astounds and befuddles me and as he walks further down the hallway away from me I call out to him "Really Riggi?," He turns around still uncomprehending how important he was to me and turns away. I am crestfallen and proceed sadly and resigned down the hallway where I next encounter Jonathan Winters. He is being shepherded/handled by Lorne Michaels, who disappears to schmooze elsewhere. We are both waylaid by a television with a YouTube playlist of Muppet highlights, specifically small inchworms that are singing and wiggling in unison. We are laughing and enjoying the sequence of highlights of there well known and infamous career. As it comes to a close the conversation turns toward Robin. I compassionately express 'what a loss that must've been for him'. His face darkens and he starts to reminisce with some solemnness, obviously brokenhearted and missing his old friend. The insights he offers are hushed and I can barely make them out as he remembers what a genius his colleague was. He also voices some personal knowingness into Robin's character and reasons for his demise, possibly matching his own considerations for such an end. I am aware that despite the vividness of the conversation and trust Jonathan is showing me, he actually preceded Robin in death.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
A small segment remembered. Verla and I are in NY for a Broadway play. We're both excited and talking animatedly before the show starts and we find our front row seats. Our view seems to be obstructed as we are sitting very close to stage right. A large box structure gives us a sliver of a view. We are commenting and concerned as the curtain rises. I cut myself off mid sentence, but Verla seems to want to prattle on. She seems naive to the etiquette and respect of hushing the fuck up when the curtains rise. I give her a couple of arm touches and a disciplinary look to signal. The box is moved offstage and our seats have become great and wonderful for the vantage point. She can't help but continue to comment. Jonathan Groff is the star and begins. A house manager, voice comes over the loudspeaker, announcing someone is making a racket down front and the play must be interrupted to deal with the interruption. On cue, Groff singles out Verla and brings her up onstage to make an example of her, proceeds to humiliate her and use it as a teachable moment for the audience. Verla is quite oblivious to her faux pas and is enjoying the full spotlight of being part of the show. I am embarrassed and amused and during the intermission, I retreat to the back of the theatre to touch base with an acquaintance and gauge just how bad the incident was. There seem to be no repercussions although I feel the need to apologize to someone, while subtly disassociating myself from the clueless Verla. She will tell the story in full gory detail with her center stage antics as the gist of the tale.
Monday, September 01, 2014
I am with a large group of people playing a sophisticated survival game, possibly televised . Our task of several different groups is to survive challenges in the White House. We have access to almost every room depending on the challenge. My group talk of strategy and have a scarf talisman to identify us to each other. Early on after the first successful challenge is completed to continue in the game, I am traded/separated from my original group. As my cohorts leave me, I join a new group who are doing food tasks. We are seated at large dining tables and must choose foods to consume as we wander among staffers. After having a great meal, we are left to choose a desert. I choose a tall ice cream cone of my own making. I must juggle the assemblage by putting my pinkie in the bottom of the cone and flip it right side up in a ball and cup manner to add the final topping. There is an eagle? component that endangers it from getting snatched. Surprisingly, I do this twice successfully, seeming to have an aptitude, which is congratulated by Barack as he sits and and nods approval while casually talking to another head of state on the phone. Several other team members join me in looking out a picture window that reveals Alaska/Hawaii where a person walks by as Barack comments on the view and its splendor. There are also several raccoons that gambol thru this vista and a dock leading to a serene lake. I decide to wander/explore into a hallway where a large art is displayed. I ask permission to do this and am OK'd by WH handlers. I encounter other team members with their various foods. I start to peruse the art, down the hallway. Some is classical, but many are large format color political cartoons, left over from other presidencies. I stop to identify a large eared George. Bush cartoon- he's in a speeding out of controller car careening off an overpass. I am aware I should be careful not to spill my cone in this great carpeted hallway, and am warned by a housekeeper as she leaves for her day. There is a general hubbub and I join others of my team in another room to play an odd pinball machine with golf balls that overflow the supply slot after I win. Barack is there again being briefed by staffers and looking out a window and has the time to notice my accomplishment. I do this all while continuing to juggle the ice cream cone. I pick up some of the golf balls to clean up the overflow as Barack wanders by again in what is obviously the Oval Office. He jokes with staff in what seems like a very convivial atmosphere. My team is assembling again to begin a new task.