Housing

Good day today.  We did our first run through of the play -- what we like to call a "stumble-through" because of it's non-polished, we're-still-early-on-in-rehearsals quality -- and it went pretty well.  Lots of interesting stuff happened, and we got to play a lot, which is great.

After all was said and done, Aaron Posner, our beloved director pulled me aside and complimented me on my work, but made some really pointed comments about what he liked and didn't like, and the types of things he wanted me to play with.  He made a very good point.  He basically -- though I suspect he might protest that this is a harsh way to put it -- kicked my ass for being lazy and defaulting in some scenes to what I know is funny, but easy.

Which, I have to say, is one of the reasons I love working with Aaron.  He knows I'm funny, that I have stock stuff and I know what'll fly with an audience, but he's also fearless about saying to me, "Okay, that's alright and all, but I think you can do better."  He pushes me, which a lot of directors -- especially ones who only know me by reputation -- aren't really willing to do.  They'll settle for me at my laziest, 'cuz even at my laziest, I can be pretty darn good.

I like that Aaron doesn't settle.

 So have I mentioned at all the posh digs in which the Arden is putting me up?

I think I may have, but I finally broke down and brought my camera back from New York (and have, sadly, come to grips with the fact that I'm stuck with it for a while) so I could snap a photo of the housing and show it off to you.

For now, only this one photo of my suite (yeah, baby, that's right:  suite... two rooms).  This is only part of a six bedroom house that the Arden recently bought.  Right now, because of local zoning laws, they can really only house three actors at a time -- some nonsense about the number of unrelated people living in a building, and the number of bathrooms they have.  And they're gonna have to put in an elevator at some point because of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

I kinda got the posh-est digs in the joint, 'cuz I'm the lone male, and there'll be two females here once they bring in the actors for the next show.  So if there are two women and one man, for instance -- as in this case -- they keep the women upstairs in the one-room bedrooms and they share a bathroom, and the lone guy gets the "blue room," which has it's own bathroom.  A lovely arrangement, but especially lovely if you're the sex in the minority.

So the view above is from my sitting room into my bedroom.  I should point out that though I do have the largest living space in the house, you shouldn't cry too much for Erika, my housemate and whoever they're going to bring in for The Arabian Nights.  Their bedrooms are bigger than some New York apartments I've seen.   Maybe at some point, Erika will let me snap a photo of her room for contrast.  And sometime when there's daylight outside and I'm thinking of it, I'll snap an exterior shot of the house, and maybe some of the neighborhood.

I love the neighborhood we're in.  It's the Old City district, down near the river, where some of the most beautiful old homes are located.  If I were to ever actually live in Philadelphia, I'd want to be rich enough to be able to afford a home around here.  You can see from the map on the left that I'm only a few blocks west of Elfreths Alley, the oldest continuously-occupied residential street in America.  It's really quite lovely.  Greg Wood introduced me to it back when I was doing Picasso.

Being the hopeless (and masochistic) optimist I am, I occasionally torture myself by scanning realtor websites in the cities I visit, and not long ago I noted a house for sale right on Elfreths Alley.  For a price that would be, even in New York math, frightening.  Ah, but one can dream.  I can only imagine the restrictions placed on refurbishing the historical buildings on that alley.  Lord.

Do you believe I think about these things?