At the Top of the Mountain

I actually had a fairly positive experience last weekend. Came home to find out I had been tapped to produce a short script THAT EVENING for performance THAT SUNDAY. I bitched, I did it, had it e-mailed out by 10 pm and was hailed as a genius. It performed well, and was judged by many to be a high point of the morning.

So I reflected on this, and remembered reading an article by Tom Robbins, long, long ago. He related how one day he decided he wanted to see the pyramids, so he “asked the Universe for a ticket to Egypt.” that afternoon, Playboy called and asked him to cover the Grateful Dead concert at Giza.

So this morning I asked the Universe for more of that. “I need some paying work like that, writing and performing, what I like to do, what I am good at doing.”

This afternoon, I got a phone call from Mystery Cafe, the dinner theater I quit in exasperation several years ago, asking me to fill in this weekend in a technically demanding role I originated six years ago, and have not performed in nearly three.

Universe, you’re an asshole.

2 Comments

  1. That’s what you get for fucking with me. Signed, the Universe.

  2. There’s just no pleasing some people.


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