A London Love Poem

Reflections on a night performing at Lincoln Center...

1. Al Silber = NOT AN OPERA SINGER. (Among 3 hours of opera singing...fine...)

2. Rene Flemming wore a "cape"

3. Jane Fonda licked her fingers and mimicked tears on her face to a girl with partial hearing.

4. Stage Management quote: "Where are we going to find a MUSIC STAND in this building?!"

5. Snagged a free colander from Martha Stewart (to which I replied "I love I love I love my colander, girl!" to... no response... )

6. Howard McGillin rocked a supersonic-fast 'Somethin's Comin''

7. Favorite quote: "They just finished 'Being Alive'"

8. Conclusion: gin was consumed by Lance and I as we strolled through the bowels of Lincoln Center in comic despair...

Winning the award

Every form of happiness is innermost. The outer displays are the results of this secret, unspoken, unarticulated private flame. Our greatest moments are personal, not always able to be touched or shared.

Of course, ultimately, I have always believed that our life's efforts, our labors and actions should be motivated by a simple to desire to be great. Yes. Ultimately, at the end of our days it is about being great, not at all about being thought of as great. I live by that. There is no sense in obsessing over recognition, I focus exclusively on my own standards, my individual set of artistic and moral values. I know the difference of giving everything, and withholding. An audience, every audience, every day, deserves 100 percent of my energies and devotion. Nothing less. And I don't actually care if anyone takes note.

I will know the difference.

I will.

Here, though, I attempt to share with you the unimaginable honor received yesterday from the TMA committee. I cannot share it really, it can only be marked. (But it interesting, isn't it, this human need to award, to commemorate, commend, celebrate..?) I include this post with a photo to respect the pregnancy of the moment Julie Jordan got a nod. She is a beautiful character, one I endeavored to create with a an almost pious sense of devotion, one whom I treasure and delight in the way I would a living, breathing, real life friend. She and Carousel have brought me countless gifts since childhood (one of my very first theatrical experiences was playing Louise in Carousel in 1996 and the experience rocked me), and I know the Perseus-ian tether connected from her heart to my own will never sever.
And although the return to London was fleeting it was filled with familiar things, places, smells, foods, and most importantly, the faces of true friends and of course the lovely, truly shocking, award itself. Thank you London for such a wonderful visit, and thank you to everyone for your incredibly warm and generous congratulatory words. A lot of people made what I did in Carousel possible.
But oddly, the award felt like an odd kind of marking for the last year of struggle. Well done, Al, the piece of glass declared. Well fought. Well battled.
Truly, I am incredibly humbled and grateful.

Thank you.