The thing in which we'll catch the king.

I wrote a musical with some help from friends, some of whom know about music, which helped. Christmas farce slash musical revue thing. It opened while I was in the Magic Kingdom, and so I was itching to see it on my return to the Fatal Shore. The street press have labeled it post-post-post modern and the official hacks liked the sight-gags. It's pretty fuckin funny, in the way one can seriously amuse oneself, and the cast is spectacular. But the actors appear at the bar after the show looking like actual Colonial wrecks, emaciated, exhausted remnants of the Gulag that is co-op theatre. Most of these actors are slumming it in order to benefit a tops production, none of them are strangers to the fringe, and all of them are slumming it in the sense that the current government seems intent on running the Arts back into the prostitution racket. It's sad to see actors so poor and starving, not brooch to the eyeball sad, you'll find it rather common if you look around, but pretty sad after having been gloriously entertained all night by them, knowing the whole two month commitment won't even cover their rent. Then again it didn't pay mine either. Better than a kick in the head I suppose.