Spent the late morning dozing, did some housework, took it easy. Left in the mid-afternoon to see Owen Dara's WHITE HORSE: AN IRISH CHILDHOOD.
I can't say why, for sure ... but I hate Irish drama. There were greats, to be sure, but recent efforts all seem to be pale homages to the originals. And they all have a common theme.
Whining. In that accent.
Maybe it's because I'm British. But shoot the fook oop.
I think it was the first time I saw DANCING AT LUGHNASA, and wanted to stab myself. The jigs and reels! The poverty! The beatings! The absent fathers, the incest and the drink, drink, drink!
I am not saying I hate the Irish. I hate the plays. Perhaps plural is too generous, because they all sound the same to me.
Of course, I am sharing all of this racist business because of Owen. We met him at the VPH on Saturday, and I was honestly surprised by his act, I didn't expect stand-up. And I laughed, we all did.
Photo: Owen and I sharing a tender moment last Saturday night.
His story follows some of the familiar line - he does comment on it, and play against it, and sometimes not - but it is the story he tells, and the way he tells it that made it my favorite show I have seen at FringeNYC so far this year. Very charming, very funny, and touching. Someone's story that is well worth the hearing. Even in that accent.
I had arrivied prior to the show with more ATYD labeled bottles of water. People really talk that shit up.
Liz and Harris threw a lovely little dinner party here, their friends and Josh and Kelly came and we had pot roastand there were lots of pregnancy stories (two pregnant ladies inna house) and then J&K & I headed to hand out postcards at the smash hit of the festival - and it only just opened! We met with outgoing audience members of ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S BIG GAY DANCE PARTY, and chatted up our show. And I do not believe, no one else was there passing out cards.