As of today, it's official. Ragtime is getting revived in August. I am so excited that I forgot how to spell "revived." My God. I can't...no words. Absolutely no words. Just sheer, unadulterated joy. I'm banking on it taking the Neil Simon or the Nederlander. At this point, I wouldn't care if it played in the basement of the McDonald's on 42nd Street. No matter what house it plays, no matter where I sit, no matter when I go, I will be seeing this show. It's Ragtime. It's freaking Ragtime. How could I miss this? I'd never forgive myself. You might consider it a stretch, but I truly consider Ahrens and Flahrety's score to be one of the greatest of all time, certainly the greatest of the decade. I have so much love for this show. I am so excited to see this that I'm practically jumping out of my skin. D'you hear that? It's the music of something beginning, an era exploding, a century spinning, in riches and rags and in rhythm and rhyme. The people called it Ragtime. And it sho is a happy day.
Love love love love love love love so much love for Ragtime. So much love for Broadway. So much love for my family and my friends. So much love for everything. Except Matt Cavenaugh. Matt Cavenaugh gets no love.