eight shows, no beer
Well, technically I had half a pint at this adorable cute pub on our way home. However, it was a Russian beer (made here, but) so not quite quite. I had noticed that the town smelled like what? vaguely akin to baking bread, but more specifically, matzah. Bizarre beyond reckoning that a frigid Scottish cobbletown smelled like the bread of roastingbacked desert affliction. Rowan, the board-op guy on Adam's show, finally clued me in that it was in fact hops or some other beer precendent. He too had thought it smelt like matzah.
I was more or less shocked that nearly half Adam's house is Jewish (counting me) but I guess the Dreyfus affair really was quite a while ago and they've loosened things up a bit.
Anyway, I'll have to get some more beer. Can't do proper reviews here yet but there was a fantastic Polish Faust with all the glorious trappings of the stuff we studied back in Allen's Performance Theory class--Jesus, fat bald guy, scary transvestites, twins, creepy broken mise-en-scene, Polish--which made me feel so at home. Finally got to see the Philly-based all wear bowlers, ludicrous hilarious vaudeville/clown bit with a scary live-doll ventriloquist bit and oh I just about peed myself laughing. And other good shows too. And glorious walking, through the alternate heat and chill of the day.
My birthday is in one week. Is 23 your late early twenties, or your early mid twenties? Terrifying either way!