The Watcher Cat

The Watcher Cat

Friday, January 1, 2016

Throwback, um, Friday.

Last night, among other things discussed at the New Year's Party hosted by my estimable Editor (who has a book out,by the bye) and her husband, a gourmet but even better, a great friend, we talked about Rent. When the play first premiered, I was working at a firm that, inter alia, did entertainment law, and one of the attorneys had been a friend of Jonathan Larson's, who was devastated by his death, so I heard about that loss from someone directly impacted before I had seen the play.

An old friend, from the firm I had been a summer associate at, and who had gone off to a better life as a court attorney, called me up, and invited me to join him--his date had become unavailable. So I bought dinner, and he provided the ticket, and Jonathan Larson pretty much blew me away, in a score and lyrics that raised some questions I had to answer for myself, while entertaining the hell out of me. I ended up seeing it twice more--another friend with spare tickets, and a third who wanted to see it but needed a theater buddy.

Why do I mention this show, and my possibly naive attachment to it?

Well, one of my banner New Year's Eves was when 1999 turned to 2000, when, after a magnificent feast at Platforma Churrascaria, only a block or two from an old college friend's apartment, where he and I and most of our old suite-mates met up again for NYE dinner and party, my old friend and I went out on the balcony and serenaded the crowd at full volume, with a favorite from Rent. My friend, by far the better singer, did Roger's part; I was passable as Mark. Here's the song we butchered:

The crowd was, to put it mildly, confused. But we had enjoyed ourselves.

Sometimes I think that I may resemble the remark C.P. Snow gives Charles March in The Sleep of Reason; I may be (I hope I am!) more decent as I grow older, but I suspect I'm nothing like as much fun.

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