Men are always in their prime. For men, Prime is not an adjective, it is a location, and they are always in it: young, old, dead. But a woman only has a little bit of time to be in her prime. Before she stops being a juicy specimen waiting to be plucked. Before she becomes something to be discarded.
Since making a few donations I have been inundated with requests for more money. It is as if the sluice gates of the gift giving world were thrown open and aimed at me…. This is just plain cheesy. What if a bartender did that? “Thanks for the tip and I’m right here in case you want to up it.” I don’t think so.
…this epidemic of good deeds and dispositions was out of my control. I put down my book and watched as the Samaritans began to multiply out on the street. A pizza guy stopped to hold a door open. A woman stood still while her dog said hello to a puppy. A man on his phone paused his call and executed a tiny soccer move to stop something rolling down the street being chased by a panicked teenager.
The other day I signed up for a Lifetime Membership for a Meditation App. It seemed like a no-brainer, until I heard myself think, “Wait a minute – how long would I have to live to make this lifetime membership worthwhile?” A quick calculation told me I would have to live for three more years. That sounded doable. But what in the Sam Hill am I doing thinking thoughts like THAT?
Actors know that a world with no stories would go wobbling off into the Universe and burn to a crisp or freeze over until it was colder than the heart of a certain Supreme Court Justice.
In addition to being King’s birthday, this year January 15th marked the closing date for SEVEN Broadway shows. Four of those shows feature black casts: “Death of a Salesman,” “A Strange Loop,” “Topdog/Underdog,” and “Ohio State Murders.” A fifth, “The Piano Lesson,” will close in two weeks.
