It was so…significant. One of those times that you know you’ll look back on as a line drawn down the middle of your life after which you - and the way you view the world, your work, your family, your self, your existence - will be forever changed. I don’t quite know how - ask me in a year. But I’m not the same me I was when I started.

I’m so grateful for the relationships this trip engendered. Cincinnati, as a festival, was really more fun. It was more cohesive and you felt like you were in the middle of something. The people I met there will be glad to see me if I show up again. But it really was summer camp kind of relationships there. The New York festival vibe was more dispersed and I often felt like I was lurking on the perifory of the scene, not knowing how to jump in a be a visible part of it. But the friends I did meet feel more permanent. Caitlin, the Lauras and Mark, my publicist feel like they will be in my life from here on out.

Now it’s off to Louisville to care for my Mamma who has been diagnosed with lung cancer. A whole new chapter. Thanks for reading along, ya’ll. I’ll do one more entry with random pix, but this is the end of the NY Fringe stuff.

OK - we’re boarding!

After I took my stellar crew out for a burrito. It was fun to unwind with these people who were mere strangers a couple of weeks ago, but ended up holding me in the palm of their hands. I love theatre people. I love professionals that can just take a show and run it like it’s their own. I feel good that I chose wisely and lucky that my instincts about Gregory, Kwame and Caitlin were on the nose.

Today I said goodbye to Patty and Jeff. They leave town in the morning. It was so good to spend quality time with Patty. We’ve been through so much together, but haven’t really had any casual hang time for years. She’s like a sister to me.

Ditto for Jan on all counts. She left town today, too (if you live in Manhattan and it’s August, you leave any chance you get.) I may not have many people left here from my 80’s life, but the two I got are about as good as it gets,

Saw a modern adaptation of Trojan Women by an Irish Theatre company. It was quite good but I was quite tired. It was hard for me to keep up with even a well executed updated classic.

Caitlin and I met up with Laura Poe and her man Dan after that. Laura’s show, Mothers of Invention ended tonight as well. We all walked over to the East Village to some Russian Deli for perogis. I’m now suffering some late night indigestion. Surprising it hasn’t occurred more often.

As we walked east tonight I found myself drinking in the city. Laura was apologizing for taking us so far (she could only think of one place that was open…it’s just so funny to me…so many places are open in Manhattan) Anyway, I know my time here is coming to an end and I’m just reveling in this place and time. I’m so thrilled for this opportunity.

Now I sit in Starbucks and have been here for two hours catching up on e-mails and doing promotional stuff - reminding New York people that there’s only one more show…that sort of thing. After two hours I still haven’t gotten to the blog and I’m feeling antsy. I need to get out there. New York is slipping through my fingers.
My good friend Mareli hates the whole blogging thing. Says people spend all their time writing about where they are instead of being there. Guess I’ve been spending the past few days being here. I’ve seen some great shows. Talked to some fascinating people. Seen some really cool things.

I’ve been vascillating about going to the WTC site - Ground Zero. I could perhaps use a good cry and that will be assured there. But Laura Park went and saw a family of tourists standing before the gaping hole smiling for the camera. Smiling for the camera. She’s sobbing and they’re saying “cheese.” That’s like propping up Grandpa in his casket to get one last shot… Thats like the kind of oblivious that has other cultures hate us enough to create big holes in the ground to pose in front of.

Caitlin says to go at night to avoid that stuff. It’s lit. It’s reverent. I think tonight’s the night.

Anyway, today made up for all that, as I was realigned.  Which was great because Lois and Peter Heymann were in the audience.  I met Lois and Peter Heymann in Edinburgh when they picked my show out of 1800 choices.  They were the only two people who picked my show that day.  They got a private performance.  And I gave it right to them.  At the end, they gave me a standing ovation.  I felt like we had all been on this journey together.  We kept in touch all this time and they showed up today.  So glad they saw this particular performance.  I was really on.

After the show, Peter, Lois, Caitlin and I went to a café and hung out for a while.  We had great conversation and a fun afternoon.  Nearly every day I’m spending time with people I didn’t know prior to this trip and having a wonderful time.  This is my new New York and I love it.

So one more NYC performance. I really want lots of people on Thursday.    If you are out there reading this and you haven’t been to see the show, I hope you can make it on Thursday.  If you know someone that’s here, please send them the Backstage NY review and recommend the show to them.  Thanks to all of you who have sent people.

I’m at Patty’s tonight on 49th between 9th and 10th. If the place looks familiar at all it’s because this is where I lived in the 80’s - yes, the four-room railroad that Bruce got in 1978 that’s lease daisy-chained to life-long friend Patty Murray. It’s a great place and I will always feel at home here. People often refer to friends as family, but Patty really truly fits that catagory. So this apartment has been in the family since 1978.

Patty and I talked old times and read my latest review, which could be described as lukewarm, at best. It’s the first negative review that I take exception to, that it seems like the person wasn’t listening, that I really don’t know where the comments come from. But, I can’t get too down about it with that complete rave from yesterday, right?

Right?

Feelings are sucky things. (You can quote me on that) A wise 12-step program once stated that feelings aren’t facts. And they aren’t. But that doesn’t stop the little fuckers from moving in and setting up shop.

There is much intensity in my life right now and I think tonight it all just kind of crystallized into some heavy emotional discomfort. Patty is in a similar mood. How accommodating, right? Love those life-long friends. So we ate pie and ice cream and downloaded our sorrows into the middle of the living room.

And this living room can take it as it has held us on the planet through many such times. There is something comforting about the familiarity about sitting here in this very room with this very person. Patty has lived here for 20 years this summer. But here’s the thing about New York - if you’ve ever lived here, you’ll never visit again. As in, you’ll will always be coming back home. So here I am in the city that never sleeps, content to sift through my yucky feelings with one my all-time best friends in my former living room. Because it’s home here.

So I didn’t end up going to the party that night – it was late and I am old and sober, so I took the train home with Laura Poe, mother of “Mothers of Invention,” an outstanding one-woman show also showing at my venue. She plays several different characters brilliantly, many of which actually happen on video while she’s offstage changing. It’s about genetically modified foods. Yeah, and it’s hilarious. Anyway, we connected over the whole one-person show gestalt, (if you will,) and she lives in Hell’s Kitchen, so it was a pretty natural connection. Here is Laura Poe mere moments after purloining a South Beach Diet Bar from a well-stocked, yet unattended Craft Service table we passed in the Village on the way to the train.
Yesterday I saw “I Couda Been a Kennedy.” It’s a real, two-act play with 8 characters and time periods and a set and everything. No sock puppets, clown white base or guitars. There is projection, though, which seems pretty darn universal here at the Fringe. Like the way they used it though. It’s a very well-written play and the acting, direction were great. Some downtown company that I can’t remember right now. Very compelling story and interesting family dynamics.

Also saw Girl Scouts of America which had me, Laura Park, Laura Park’s friend whose name I forget and Caitlin rolling in the aisle. Extremely funny portrayal of the Girl Scout experience. I was going to say satire, but it’s pretty much a straight across narrative of the Girl Scout gestalt, (if you will.) As in, no satire required. Because the thing so geeky about Girls Scouts is that behavior within the troop – and especially at camp – was so ridiculous that in the outside world, out of context, the it’s high high comedy.

Caitlin and I walked from the Lower East Side to Little Italy (spotting a rat on the way – my first of the trip), ending up the day with some late night pesto. Caitlin said that this is movie New York. Though she grew up in Jersey, this was her first time in Little Italy. She was charmed. I remembered the first time Budge Threlkeld took me to Little Italy in 1985. We were pretty drunk and we got us some linguine with white clam sauce at Umberto’s. He told me about how some gangster was killed there – I think they have the table marked and his picture up.

Now, Budge is gone and we’re telling stories about how he bit it holding sticky buns in his kitchen last year. He was a crazy fuck, but god I loved him. Cheers, Budge. I’m back in the city. This sign was probably on the side of a deli in Little Italy back in 1985 when you brought me here. I think I remember us laughing about it back then, but we were all doped up, so the memory is vague.
Yesterday also brought me the absolute best review of my life from Backstage NY. So very grateful for that. I’m sure we’ll eventually link to it (um…hi tracy,) but till then, go to Backstage.com and search for Eenie Meanie.

Also hooked up with Jess Zweiman in the east Village at this cool boutique she’s working at. Many of you readers of the Cincy blog have asked about her. She’s here, readying herself for an MFA program with the Actor’s Studio. Highly competitive – they only took 2 directors and she was one of them. Kudos, Jess.

That’ll do it for today. Finally get to see Laura Park’s show at 5:15, so best hop in the shower. Didn’t get as many “gestalt’’s in as I’d have liked, but it’s difficult in the blog milieu, so to speak.

Tonight there’s finally a party. Gotta admit Cincinnati Fringe leaves NYC in the dust when it comes to the hang. Most companies are local and they have their own deal in their own parts of town. Everything is so spread out. There’s starting to be a camaraderie with fellow one-person shows. Like, I’ve spent some time with Laura Park, who I met in LA at the Los Angeles Women’s Theatre Festival in 2005. We were talking and I said I lived in Burbank. She said she did comedy in a backyard in Burbank. I told her that that was my backyard. It was – March 2004 – the Spike Heels Backyard Benefit. I didn’t recognize her because I was inside getting ready for my set when she was on. She saw my show last night for the first time. I’ll not see hers till Friday. But it’s nice to have a little LA Fringe buddy.

God, I’m loving this.

But here it’s 1:15 and I’m still going. There’s just something magical about tonight. Something in the air. Even the freaking ringing…no one ever found out what it was. I thought it was in the audience – sounded like it was coming from the audience. But it couldn’t have been. Whose cell phone rings 20 times with out going to voice mail? Erinina, the venue manager, checked all the offices, wherever it could logically be coming from and she couldn’t find it. She says it didn’t happen during changeover, so it must have been in our audience.

Anyway, Teresa Willis was there tonight. My African-American alter-ego. She used to live in LA and I got calls for her from 1992 till 2001 when I disconnected the line in my name. E-mails every once in a while, too. I freaked her out a little when she introduced herself and I started telling her about herself. She’s a writer – a journalist with bylines in the LA Times. She went to Columbia School of Journalism. She just found out I existed. Here’s a black woman sees a white woman with her exact name (spelled right and everything) doing a show about racism. I guess I’d show up if I were her, too. I feel like I want to know more about her, (though I already know how much she owed for her student loans in 1995) and there were so many people to talk to that the coolness of meeting her didn’t sink in till later. I told her to e-mail – I hope she does. I wanna know if she sings, who she was named after, if she cringes when someone calls her Terry. I’m sure she cringes when someone calls her Terry. She’s no more a Terry than I am. She’s a Teresa.

Then I’m walking to the subway and I stop to read a sign in this little Minetta Park about freed slaves settling the area and an illegged brook that’s still running through the neighborhood. This 60 year old dreadlocked flute player asked me what was on the sign and we start talking. He was so engaging that we stood there on 6th Avenue and West 3rd and talked for 45 minutes about god and purpose and lessons and alignment and mission and message and enlightenment. And for once I remembered to get out my camera, but he wouldn’t let me take a picture. Says people are always stealing his image, thinking he’s a tourist attraction or something. It bugs him.

Anyway, at 12:15 I pour into the subway with the rest of the non-criminal normal people going uptown. Now, know that in the 80’s, we didn’t ride the subway alone after 10:30-11 pm. If you had to it was freakin’ scary. Filled with a plethora of unsavory characters. Now there’s women in sundresses and students and sleeping old drunks. Just New Yorkers. Then I start thinking about the train puts me out on 43rd and 8th - I have to walk to 43rd and 10th. I had 3 friends get mugged on 43rd between 8th and 9th. But, I figure, everything else is different…

Boy, it sure is. There was a family with a baby. There were two white girls walking their two little white dogs in their click-click high heels. Waiters walking home. Old lady on the stoop. It could have been 8 pm. Great block. I love this neighborhood now. Fear just falls away. I walk home singing.
Something magical in the city tonight. Something in the air. I’m still not sleeping is the weird thing.