2005 ended thusly: our final production of The Eight: The Reindeer Monologues was... I'm gonna say a triumph! Apparently the theatre made some much-needed money with this crazy show, and we had a blast. I love everybody involved; we've discussed having a reindeer reunion dinner in a month, and I aim to make sure those aren't just idle promises. Anyway, I went to a party a few friends held; we sipped Old Peculier, traded wisecracks and dozed. The hosts retreated to their bedrooms; the remaining guests paired up into sweetly cuddling couples except for one guy. Guess who?
I have to keep reminding myself that the impenetrable Romance Barrier that surrounds me is like the Mark of Cain; a curse and a blessing combined. It's a protection; most people I know who are in relationships aren't really any happier than the rest of us, after all.
That gloomy note aside, I really do sense that this will be a year for some new shoots to bud; something about the vigor of this last show, both onstage and backstage, fills me with confidence. Boo-Yah, Gentle Readers; Boo-Yah!
P.S. I have been informed that the sentimental slop I sneered at in my last post is actually Moe, not moi. I was also informed that my misspelling invalidated my post's logic. Dream on, chilluns.