Thursday In the Park

I'm not sure how much of this I've told you all, but I've come to the decision to go back to Pittsburgh this weekend and try to find some temp work there, until I have to go to Philadelphia for The Pavilion. I'm going to pawn my laptop, and although that's going to break my heart, it should solve the most immediate and pressing of my money problems. And I'm going to use up my Dividend Miles to catch a flight back to Pittsburgh. Not the solution to my problems I'd like to have found, but ultimately, I think it'll be best.

So in a sort of "last fling" here in New York, I got up early today and sat on queue for tickets to see Measure for Measure at the Dellacorte Theater in Central Park... my first experience in ages with the Public Theatre's free Shakespeare in the Park series. Dana Steer - not sure if you all know him, but he's an actor I know from Pittsburgh who I met when he was doing shows at Pittsburgh Musical Theatre (nee Gargaro) with Gavan - is joining me and we're going to have a bit of dinner and then see the show. I'm looking forward to it, since it features Joe Morton, who I admire a great deal, and Billy Crudup, who I've like in a number of independent films.

That's Joe Morton to the left, and Billy Crudup to the right.

I got up at 6:30 a.m. to shower and get out of the house before 7:00. I did get a gentle reminder from the universe that I need to remember humility and grace. As I entered the subway station this morning, congratulating myself on just how clever I was getting up so early to get a good place in line, a pigeon crapped on me. And I do mean crapped. In my hair. On my forehead. All over my shirt and down the front of my pants. Even on my shoes... and just for good measure a streak of it down my sunglasses and in the Miami Vice Beard Growth® I've got going on. It wasn't just a crap. It was a Projectile Crap™. I actually heard him let loose, and had just enough time to think, "I wonder what -" before it hit me. Needless to say, I had to go back to the apartment and delouse myself, delaying the arrival at the Dellacorte Theater. So instead of being right up front, I ended up about 100 people back in the line. I still managed to get tickets, but boy, did I learn my lesson. Don't ignore the Universe. Even if you have no fucking idea what it's telling you. Check out this photo of the people in line in front of me... some of them had to have gotten there at 7 a.m., I think. Oy!

After I picked up the tickets, I retreated to my favorite Central Park hangout for an hour of sweating in the sun. Sheep Meadow had a nice breeze going across it intermittently, so as the sweat pooled on me, I would occasionally get a quick cooling from the breeze. It was nice, but as I had still not remembered a towel to sit on, I couldn't lay there for very long. I did, however, stay long enough to scope out the place and realize that the guy sunning himself next to me was one of the guys I snapped a picture of for my last entry. Small world, huh?

Cute, but even I could tell he was straight. I always fall for the straight ones. Yet another issue that I'm sure a therapist would have a field day with: Unavailable = No Risk!