Nothing more forthcoming from me today, alas. I’ve got to spend the morning writing my Wall Street Journal drama column for Friday, then the afternoon and evening working on That Which Must Not Be Named (arrgh…but it’s going well). I might get weird and post something tonight, but more likely you’ll be in the hands of Our Girl.
I do want to report an experience from a half-hour ago (I’m writing this just after midnight). I went out to Brooklyn to see Edward Hall’s all-male production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and when I emerged from the subway, the trees between Central Park West and my doorway were all sheathed in ice and snow. The air seemed full of cold white light. What a lovely spectacle to behold after spending the evening in an enchanted forest!
And so to bed. See you when I see you.