Post-humana

I've got the post-humana blues. I'll admit. When Sharr and I were there two years ago, it was as if someone was shouting "its your birthday! Happy Birthday!" all the time. Particularly for the writer since its truly a writer's festival. But when you leave - there's a bit of melancholy. The party is over, and on to the next.
In an odd way, I think that's still true even if you just go down to visit. When's the next time I'm gonna see Ed Sobel, one of the great folks of american theater? When will I get to hang for three days straight with the folks at p73 even though we live in the same city? The party held after the gala by larry shuman (sp?) And hosted by christie evangelisto has grown into an annual shindig that is unparalleled in its density of theatricians. Or so I like to imagine.

And louisville: its got an odd charm - there is lifesize wax statue of colonel sanders holding a bucket of kfc at the visitors center. There's the louisville slugger museum. There's the more or less empty downtown and its environs. There is butchertown which smells fetid when it gets warm. There's the brisket smelling galt house. The fourth street live (they've got a tgifridays AND a maker's mark restaurant. And there is good ol actors theater of louisville. Which the locals call "actors".

And now each year in this town with its convention-based economy there's the mary kay convention. This year was also a truckers convention and the cheerleading competition.

Charming. And many are hungover.