Thursday night I saw a delightful play at Intersection; Soul of a Whore by Denis Johnson. He’s been a playwright-in-residence there for several years. Watching his development is like witnessing Sam Shepard at the Magic Theater years before. You get the feeling of being in the presence of a major talent and grateful that you’re able to see these little productions with only 50 other people in such an intimate setting. When the Eureka Theater produced Angels in America, there was a similar buzz. Denis has a tremendous grasp of american vernacular speech and creates poetry of dialogue and manner. This particular play takes place in a small town in Texas, following several men who have just been released from prison, including a humpy bald evangelist with a goatee and a hairy back, a woman they meet at the bus station, and a demon who alternately possesses the woman and several other characters before blowing everyone up.
I’m at Big Chris’ now, enjoying a moment of serenity before hopping on the plane to Tampa, to visit my sisters and work on that tan line. Last night an old friend’s sister was in town from Miami, and Bob and I took her and some of her buddies out to the mystery Chinese restaurant for a 20 course ($35) meal. The best kept restaurant secret in town. They now have someone working there who speaks english–kinda. Following our last course, she came to our table and asked with a smile, “Enough?” When we got home, our guest told me and Bob that one of our sweet dinner guests had the biggest endowment that she’d ever seen or played with and that in bed he’s a tiger and very verbal, imploring her to tell him how much she wants it, “Oh you like that big %$&@#,” etc, etc… She said that she was so surprised because, prior to bedding him, and after frequent visual examinations of his package, she and her sister concluded that his endowment was considerably smaller. She couldn’t figure out “where he puts it.”
Okay, off to bob around in the Gulf.