Coma Blackout

I sat down and ate spaghetti with a new soulmate tonight.

Topics of conversation:

1. Real Jewish mothers. They live up to the stereotypes like you wouldn't believe.

2. The Art Farm . . .

3. Why "Rent" is now a victim of modernist classicism in theatre. Fuck "Rent", move on, make something new and profound like "Rent" used to be.

4. Watched an awkward rendition of the theme song to "H.R. Puffnstuf" performed by a drunken third party intruder complete with lots of drunken burping, flubbing of lines, slurrage, and sweaty brow. I honestly don't know how it started, why it occurred. It's just one of those things that seems slightly appropriate only after a little wine intake.



The fun will continue throughout the weekend . . .

Michael Jackson -- "In the Closet"