08/28/2023
When the final curtain falls, or the lights go dark, it’s over.
The play is done; the actors take their calls, leave the stage and scramble to change out of costume. All that’s left for the audience is a confused and fading memory.
When the final curtain falls, or the lights go dark, it’s over.
The play is done; the actors take their calls, leave the stage and scramble to change out of costume. All that’s left for the audience is a confused and fading memory.
Scene: A large bright room in a Manhattan apartment. Jimmy is arranging stacks of staff paper: Arnie sits at the piano, watching.
ARNIE: (prompting) Sam wants you to do something.
JIMMY: If he’s helpless.
ARNIE: Yes?
JIMMY: Arnie. Helpless.
Likely she’d have denied it but I remember—if I can trust myself—Saturday evenings, like it was an event, my mother would sit down with the dog and a box of Black Magic chocolates to watch the telly. She spent a lot of Saturday evenings alone. My father was a jazz musician…
I’m posting this here as I post on my substack, Going Solo. Going forward I mean to post here first, sometimes adding items that won’t be posted elsewhere.
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Deny
OK