WHA' HAPPENED?

Look, I'm not really a blogger. I'm one of those sporadic diarists. That seems to be the case.

Let me comment on some really old theater blogosphere arguments.

On leaving New York: yes. I can't justify living in New York or making theater in New York on any level except that I simply like living here. This is my favorite place to live, just as a person. If you'd rather live somewhere else, which is more than understandable, you should go make theater there. You might find the people there appreciate it even more.

On whether a script is the same thing as a play: I've had wonderfully complete experiences reading playscripts, so I can't totally dismiss that side. But yeah, of course an actual play is that thing two dozen people collaborate on. We playwrights don't always like that, and I admit to an innate suspicion of directors that's hard to shake. I wrote a whole series about it once. The director is the one dude in the whole collaborative process of putting on a show who has the power to make my play resonate in a way I entirely didn't intend, so naturally that person scares me. I mean, I've learned over time that you match the director to the project, and you pick collaborators who are on roughly the same page as you but who will teach you new things about the play at the same time. But yeah, playwrights and directors are always going to have at least a slightly adverserial relationship because they both need to be top dog to do their jobs right. It's one of those relationships that needs constant tweaking.

I've been largely fortunate in my directors. My biggest regret about my last collaboration with Jordana is that when I occasionally had a concern, I let it filter back to her indirectly instead of trusting her enough just to have a conversation. I know better now. Hail Satan, though not a career success like Fleet Week, was the highlight of my year, and largely to her credit.

I'm pretty tired, y'all.

The role of critics? This is the first year I've had some experience with this. Fleet Week got reviewed by a lot of people, and shows I was close to, like Saint Frances of Hollywood and Coronado, had some run-ins with the critics. I don't know, I don't know if I care enough about criticism as an art to have specific thoughts about the proper role of critics. I'm a showman. If the reviews are bad, it's like there's a leak in the roof over the theater. It's another goddam thing I have to deal with. If the reviews are good, it's like there's not a leak in the roof. The main thing is to get people to sit in the chairs and watch the damn thing.

Some things I should say in case I don't blog for another ten months:

Big ups to James Comtois and Nosedive, Invisible City, Greg Bodine (2 times!), Steve Wargo and Personal Space Theatrics, Erin Brindley and Ripple Productions, and, last but not least, to Harold Ramis, Richard Russo, and Robert Benton for making The Ice Harvest, the best black comedy no one will see this year.

I wrote the book to this, but Sean and Jordy really brought it home. I've seen it a few times. It's really funny. They're doing it two more times, tomorrow and Wednesday. Here are some pictures (scroll down).

George, I still owe you that response on your Fringe post.

Somebody drew on me.

--SlowLearner