Friday, March 31, 2006

Coming Up For Air

Hi there. How's things been? Me, I'm doing OK I guess. I'm just now coming up out of a great big, deep rabbit hole down which I'd slid for the better part of a month.

A rabbit hole named Urinetown, the Musical. I couldn't be prouder of the work we've all done. I feel great about my work, and my good friends Sarah Hayes, Rob Lindley, Sara Patsy, and Jon Runnfeldt are all sensational, as is the rest of this amazing cast. See it early and often. (Mercury Theatre, 3745 N. Southport, (773) 325-1700.) Here's a link to some promo reel footage we did with WGN on Thursday morning. Early. Sheesh. We call them bimbos and shouting heads, but seriously, I don't know how morning news folk do it every day.

Anyways, the show rehearsed in Andersonville for two weeks or so, then we moved to the deck of the Mercury, where we tootle away six times a week for your viewing pleasure. Reviews have started trickling in, and they're mostly positive, so we of course have no idea what the future holds for the show. I can't think the investors will want to cut and run after just a month, which is when the first conract runs out. Then again, I know very little about the business of show, so I guess anything goes. Hopefully, the show will run for a long time. And maybe I can get my shinsplints in check by then.

Ever have shinsplints? Lord 'a'me, they're painful. They happen when you can't adequately support your plie, or whatever dance you've been given. Your shins take the brunt of the landing and fill with blood and heat up. Sort of a sudden shock to the system. Like bruising without the bruising. As Officer Barrel, I'm your basic cop wearing your basic cop uniform as my costume (Except for the proper belt. God DAMN it, I need a proper belt). Including LawPro security shoes. Which are where the term "flat foot" came from. No support at all. The costume people bought insoles for us, but they don't help a whole lot. By the time our curtain-call hora (!) comes around, I want to crawl offstage, turn my face to the wall, and die. As I type this I'm rubbing my poor splinty shins. They recover after a few hours off my feet, but with two shows tomorrow, I hope I can make it through. Hopefully, this show will run long enough for me to conquer the problem. Hell, I didn't even get shinsplints in the summer of 04 when I danced in wooden shoes.

Monday, March 06, 2006


Kirby Puckett, 1961-2006.
The last of the great hustle players.