QUIBBLES & BITS
Here on Vancouver Island, the sun has been offering more teasing titillation than my sexual tension scenes in The Landlord's Black-Eyed Daughter.
But today the sun finally peeked out from behind a bank of clouds, and, ironically, I seem to be catching a "summer" cold. If it were the flu, I'd curl up with a copy of Stephen King's The Stand, which for some reason makes me feel better. I tend to reread The Stand (the longer, unabridged version, of course) when I have the flu.
The thing is, you can medicate the flu but colds are like pesky relatives who come for a visit and won't leave. Sniff.
This morning, feeling stuffy, I awoke up to the following, posted by [author and editor] Dave Zeltserman on the Short Mystery Fiction loop: "Deni's upcoming story DEAD AID in the summer issue of Hardluck (probably out after Labor day) is exceptional. If you like Bruce Jay Friedman (one of my favorites) you'll love this story. It has that same absurdist streak that Friedman does so well, and it's a story that I'm exceptionally proud to be able to publish on Hardluck. Given the quality of the writing in this, it's no wonder Deni is getting starred reviews for her upcoming book."
I felt much better :-)
Bruce Jay Friedman has long been a favorite of mine, too, ever since I saw my sister Eileen in the original Broadway production of Steambath. What a kick to see your little sister run across the stage...naked.
For those who have never seen Bruce Jay Friedman's Steambath, the razor-sharp, outrageous comedy portrays God as an overworked steambath attendant who doles out "wrath" and "blessed events." The off-Broadway production was directed by actor Anthony Perkins, whose picture is at the top of this blog. Perkins made his [early] mark in Tall Story, Friendly Persuasion, and a little movie called...wait a minute...it's on the tip of my tongue...oh, yeah, Psycho.
Trivia: Alfred Hitchcock had decided to split Psycho in half and show it in 2 parts on his TV show, Hitchcock Presents. Lucky for movie mavens, he changed his mind.
Digression: When I was a kid, I had a crush on actor Anthony Perkins. Then, oh joyous day, I saw him on Broadway in Look Homeward Angel, and even though it was raining pitchforks, I walked to the alley behind the theatre and waited at the stage door for him to come out. Picture a plump, red-haired, 5-foot-nothing Shirley Temple, wearing a plaid, pleated skirt, black tights and Capezio flats, clutching a program and pen underneath a gray, cable-knit sweater (against her budding breasts) so the program wouldn't get wet. Tony - as I fondly thought of him in my prepubescent daydreams - finally walked outside, sheltered by an umbrella. I held my program and pen out to him like a suppliant asking for the Pope's blessing...
And Mr. Perkins spent 10 minutes, more or less, telling me why he couldn't sign his name. The gist of his explanation was that if he signed my program, he'd have to sign autographs for everybody else and he didn't have time to do that because he had to "rest up" for the night's performance.
Let me make it clear that I was The. Only. One. idiotic enough to stand outside in a downpour, waiting for the actor I adored with all my [young, prepubescent] heart and soul.
Getting back to Steambath, I attended the opening night cast party with my sister. And what [who] to my wondering [or is it wandering?] eyes should appear?
No, not Santy Claus. Tony Perkins!
I was introduced. Perkins smiled. I mumbled, Hullo," turned on my heels (literally), and walked away.
Later, my [now clothed] sister said, "That was kinda rude."
Trivia: Did you know that Bruce Jay Friedman won an Edgar?
Hey, maybe I can win one for DEAD AID.
See? I'm still daydreaming.
Over and Out,
PS- Is it starve a cold or feed a cold? If it's the latter, all chocolate (or junk food, and Scout's honor that's the only time I eat it!) donations welcome.