"So ... when do you think I'll be able to do all this online?" - A patron, referring to the eventual loss of my job.

I suppose it's the end of the "weekend", which was a very pleasant one, despite the slight interruption caused by, you know, working Saturday.

Friday evening, I was invited to my friend Jenny's flat in the South End for a dinner party. I say flat, because Jenny is English, and speaks like Kate Winslet. She works in the Pru in advertising, and her company pays for the majority of this beautiful apartment, which is well-lit and well-furnished and just sort of idyllic in the way of single girl flats. She made a delicious Japanese marinated salmon, sticky rice and snow peas, and requested that we each bring a bottle of wine. There were ten of us, the dinner party was about 4 hours long, and at the end of the evening, half of a bottle of wine remained.

You would be correct if you assume that an entire bottle of quality red wine in the form of 7 glasses resulted in me, at 12:35 am, hurtling down Dartmouth Avenue, hopping gaily over puddles in my high boots, just sort of waiting for the Copley T stop to appear, which it eventually did, in the form of two little green reptiley lights flashing in the distance. I tried to read David Sedaris on the train but was too drunk to even focus on that, and narrowly avoided interviewing a fellow passenger about his decision to purchase Snapple Earl Grey iced tea, and whether he thought that was really the right choice.

Haha.

I worked all day on Saturday which was sort of one of the more entertaining times I've been paid to sit in front of the computer since the unveiling of "June is Bustin' out All Over" c/o Shaun Kelleher over the summer. People here are nutty on Saturdays; totally their fun selves, and because no one thinks we're open, it's rarely harder than taking sharp things from a baby.

That evening, I had a lovely evening with the Terrell. We ate soup and pasta in true vegetarian fashion (oh, how I remember ye), and then, finally, saw Vampire over in Watertown at Whistler in the Dark. It was uh .... not Aristotelean, that's for sure. It was elegant for a black box show, and included many strong aesthetic choices, although I was not, most of the time, aware of why they were being made. That, however, may have been the fault of the script more than the production. I did like the script, but I must say that I found its use of an Idea as a through-line not because it was an Idea, but because it's really hard to write a satisfying arc for an Idea, so the end ended up feeling just a little Meh. Some good acting though, and I love being in that space, the black box at New Rep ... which reminds me!!:

I *finally* got an Assistant Directing gig. I'll be assisting the director of Pieces which is part of a new play series called "Their Voices Will be Heard" at New Repertory Theatre. Zohar Tirosh is a contemporary Israeli-American playwright/director who is based in New York. Apparently she is really great to work with and I am excited. The only decision to make is about my job .... I don't know if I'll be in good enough to just ask for 15 days off, unpaid, but in any case, this is kind of what I've been waiting for, so I am definitely going to do it. To that end, I turned down an offer from Boston Ballet to be their Group Sales/Marketing Assistant, figuring that if I made a real commitment to the artistic side of things, something would turn up. ;)

I'm also the new Production Assistant for Don Giovanni with the BOC. Although I wanted to Assistant Direct, this will be a good way to be around opera and its opera-philes. And hey, I miss going to rehearsal. :)

Thanksgiving is coming up. In general, I'm having trouble coping with/understanding the fact that Thanksgiving is now just a day instead of an entire week dedicated to me sleeping and sitting on my ass as much as possible. Oh well, I suppose it's good that my brain and body aren't sagging under the weight of things like the entirety of the History of Western Theatre or, say, Sweeney Todd tech week (also a formidable and historical force).

I misplaced *coff coff* some checks at the ATM the other day. Only Erin may be witness to how completely stupid the mode of misplacement was, but the point is is that they are on the way back to me, somehow, miraculously, on little wings of joy, rent, and cash.

Wonder of wonders miracle of miracles, someone in the airforce just called me ma'am over the phone. Hey, that almost fits with the scansion ....