Know what’s awesome about FB…aside from the prime place to go and waste your time while you should be doing other things? The fact that you can find people from your past who you delighted in, years and years later, and reconnect on a whole new level. Even from several states away.
I love to stalk them.
I love to watch their projects grow, follow them through casting and rehearsals and performances and tours. I love to see the many new sides of their personalities come out in different roles…I love the new headshots, and reviews, and interviews, and go-and-get-em-team speeching on Opening Nights that they send out to all their casts and crews.
…I love how we can still (even from far away) share these experiences together…like we once did before.
…And I love how it makes me miss ‘em, and wonder over the wide world of possibilities of ever finding some way to work together again.
Almost anything can happen. This is, after all, the “Theatre.”
…And this all comes from a tagging today, where she poked me to show a sneaked pic of her, standing off-set in the wings, catching up on some of m’blogs while on break. She’s obviously not reading one of the funnier ones, but is totally consumed in whatever it is…so much so that she didn’t even notice the Paparazzi at work.
…And I thought, “Wow. That means other people do it too…that ‘stalking’ thing. Maybe I don’t have to be so freak-fetish-feeling secretive about it.Other people will (on some random days), stop for a hot second, to catch up on an old friend they worked with a million years ago and thought of just now, today. Just because.”
It makes me feel good.
…And warm-fuzzy.
…And memory-filled of our days spent on the Titanic and in ridiculously giant ball gowns in the dead of summer, going to post-show picnics at the Village, drinking fuzzy navels while watching old movies, reading “Lolita,” lovin’ all up on Rosemary Clooneyness, singing at the top of our lungs toward seas of patron’s faces…and the time I spent whoring her as a prostitute for two months, under my professional care. (The condom runs were epic, purchased in bulk weekly and turned in as a “business expense” which 18 year-old-me delighted in, to no end. Even if it was for the mic pack equipment.)
…I think you will find, not many people share those kind of memories. Or if they do, prob’ly not with the consistent fondness that we do.
…Which is the magic of our industry. (Long may it reign!)
…This is all (P.S.) really only a big, fat, giant preface to the fact that I promised her something funny today, after reading whatever it was that caught her all up in emo-ville. Which is a tall order. As nothing even remotelyfunny has happened yet.
…But I say, “yet” as it is a Friday, and Marty is coming up for a girls-night, and we have about 11 too many already pre-planned things ahead of us. Something hysterical is bound to happen. And usually in some form of embarrassment. Which helps her not at all right now, at this second. But it will (no doubt) at a later date.
…So, keep readin’, friend.
Even still…betcha she smiled to herself, already. At least once.
Which makes today’s blog: a success!
~D
P.S. …’Member the time someone subbed in real beer for the whole show? Thatwas a doozy 
