A.W.O.L. (not about George Bush)

Spent tonight at a theatre called 59E59 seeing A.W.O.L., a play by Oliver Cadiot with music (scored for onstage men's chorus!) by Adam Silverman. The play--more an extended prose poem than anything--is a loose, non-linear mush, sort of like French Pynchon with a nasty british hangover, all backtalking colenels and spies and conspiracies. Adam's music is chattery and charming, and the performance by one Steven Rattazzi is technically nothing short of breathtaking. He seethed through some not-terribly-dramatic material with humor and grace, shaped from the poetic morass by director Marion Schoevaert. It is "experimental theatre," sans narrative (but thankfully rife with laughs), so if that's your bag (it is only sometimes mine) than do take in this strange dystopian work. It even makes Coke cans look pretty!

Slowly sampling Kate Bush's new record Aerial because I do not want to run it down too quickly. She seems not to have changed a bit. With a deep whiff of nostalgia, my post-18-yr.-old heart is glad to have her back.