Yesterday, the first Sunday in a long time, we did not have a rehearsal. I still found myself at Peter Jones, laying rugs down on our floor, to protect it from the dancing hordes expected later this week. The Gay and Lesbian Film Fest will be having a party at Peter Jones on Thursday. They will be using our set as a 'dance floor.' So, now they truly will be 'cutting the rug.'
In the afternoon, I met Carla at the Lucky Platter, and I had a true 'Platter' treat: spicy turkey meatballs (over linguine) and chocolate cake. A decadent reward for a successful weekend of theater. Then we went to see 'I Heart Huckabees.' What a rambling, shambling, mess of a movie. I enjoyed it immensely, although, it was so close to my own experience (all our psychic meditation work), it seemed kind of redundant.
I topped the evening off by sinking into Dylan's 'Chronicles.' It is filled with suprises: little Bobby Zimmerman, a tough little dude who knew exactly what he was doing. He tells us, he was not driven by love or money, no, he was 'a visionary,' who believed that the old folk songs he was singing in little clubs in New York held a secret. He read Balzac (materialism is madness) Clausewitz (politics is brute force) and Thucidydes (human nature kills anything superior). Old Grandma Zimmerman: happiness isn't on the road to anything. Happiness is the road.
This morning, surfing the political blogs, I must weigh in: Kerry wins big. Tomorrow, the world (the worm) turns again.