We went and saw Richard III last night at BAM and it was every bit as incredibly, brutally, bloodily, hilariously, terrifyingly relevantly awesome as we could have hoped. Lots of people have said this very same thing but: Kevin Spacey is frightfully wonderful and awefully magnetic, and, 10 things I hate about You not withstanding, like so many productions of Shakespeare, eerie parallels between now and then are as unsettling as watching the Republican primaries. The best part? The show runs through March 4, 2012. Run, don’t walk (with a limp).
Buy tickets here.
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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