It was right up there with giving birth and not vomiting into my handbag on prom night. We're talking major pride. I got verklempt.
I submitted a monologue to a "have your monologue performed Off-Broadway contest" and I won. So on Mother's Day, Minka Kelly performed "Bangs" at the matinee performance of LOVE, LOST AND WHAT I WORE. My husband and I drove to the Big Apple and attended. As Larry David would say, "Prehty, prehty, guuud."
As far as plays go, the show is a sit-down reading of several dozen monologues inspired by the book, LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE. Five actresses sat on stools and performed the material in front of them. It's low key drama, and not everyone's baileywick. The Mister yawned and checked his watch a lot. Afterward, he said, "Who would have thought five women could sit around and talk about clothes for an hour an a half?" Silly man. And let it be said that Conchata Ferrel is 5-star talent. I've always liked her work. She was the stand-out for me.
At the end of the show, Anne Meara interrupted the final applause to explain the contest and announce the winning monlogue would be read my Minka Kelly. Minka did a beautiful job, the audience laughed in all the right places, and applauded soundly at the end. I overheard someone say she liked the last one best. It doesn't get any better than that.
So I made it to Off-Broadway. In a very small way, of course, but I made it. I always imagined it would be as an actor (third spear carrier to the right kindathing), but this was better. I got to sit back and not worry about wearing all the parts to my costume.
The house manager told me to hang out in the theatre afterward, because Minka wanted to come out and say hello. She did, and we hugged, thanked each other, and she tolerated a few pics. That's me on the left.
Okay, okay. That's me on the right. Sigh.
So here's what I want to do now. I applied for admission into this playwriting intensive at the Kennedy Center this summer, and I'd like to experience that (Master Classes with Lee Blessing, Marsha Norman, Mark Bly and oh so many others), and set some new creative goals. I think three plays in three years is a reasonable goal. (I'm pretty sure I'm done with fiction.) It's okay if they don't make it to Off-Broadway. I already get to cross that one off the Bucket List.
And to the woman in E-111 who texted throughout the performance, you are damn lucky The Mister sat between you and me, because if I had been next to you, you would have left the theatre bald-headed. What part of TURN OFF YOUR PHONES NOW did you not understand? I've asked the theatre for your address so I can mail you some anthrax. You better hope they don't give it to me.
(To any government agent monitoring my blog: I'm kidding. To the woman in E-111: no, I'm not.)
The Mister and I also saw Jerusalem with Mark Rylance on Broadway. If Rylance doesn't win the Best Actor Tony, I am going to be first in line to the see the performance that does, because RYLANCE is a one-man tour-de-force. If you plan a trip to NYC soon, see Jerusalem (6 Tony nominations). No one sings or talks about clothes or their mother. But the play leaves the ground and flies around the theatre for almost three hours which feels like one.
And if you kill the person texting next to you, no one will notice.