So here's my Halloween costume. It's a clown, obviously. So far, everyone that I've shown it to hates it. They say it's "too loud" or "ridiculous." I say they can all go to hell. I'm the one who's going to wear it, so why I am asking their opinion, anyway? I'm slowly training myself not to care what other people think. So far, it's proven to be tremendously useful. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. I'm an eight-year-old at heart, and I love playing dress-up. Always have. I've had some great costumes - the bumble bee, can can dancer, flapper, movie star, etc. And the cow. I was a cow once. Moo moo, motherf-cker.
Less than a month to Ragtime, and I am so excited I could jump out of my skin. Ragtime is coming back. I'm going to get to see it, in all its historically inaccurate glory. Think of it. I'm finally going to get to see Ragtime. In twenty years, I'll be able to say that I was there. I was a part of that. I witnessed it. I also have a feeling that seeing Alice Ripley in Next to Normal will be something to brag about in the years to come. There's never been anything like it. I don't care how good Merman in Gypsy was. Ripley in Next to Normal is the best performance we've had in decades. So Patti LuPone can just suck on that.
What else? Ah, yes! Sondheim on Sondheim! Even the name sounds utterly magical, no? So apparently there's a show that's basically a compilation of Sondheim songs coming down the track. It's got Barbara Cook and Leslie Kritzer. I'm there, and I'm bursting at the seams for this one. It's gonna be a good year.