For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking that today was January 25. I was then rather surprised when I opened saw on the front page of the Arts section of the New York Times Ben Brantley’s scathing review of Hedda Gabler, which opened on January 25th.
I sit in front of a window in the journalism room. Normally I can look over my computer and watch people walk, drive, and get arrested, but the blinds are closed today. My location in front of a computer might be explaining why my hands are so bloody cold. I keep rubbing them together ever two minutes in hopes my hands will warm up, which isn’t working too well. Another explanation would be that the furnace is broken or it’s just not on.
I had to interview a trumpet player this morning for an article on jazz bands. I’m presently looking at my notes and realizing that I’ll need to learn how to decipher my quick scrawling.
By the way, I’m still befuddled by the production of Bye Bye Birdie that the Roundabout has announced.