Local playwright Jack Neary is blogging again…the entry below was cross posted from Jack’s own blog, “Shards”.

So until I can construct one extended, cohesive thought, I’m gonna have to keep the “Shards” thing going. I’m trying to remember the last extended, cohesive thought, I had. Let me see…uh…

On another matter, I’m in Shaw’s in Derry the other day, seeking out my beloved Waist Watchers aspartame free diet soda, when I see this kid, like eight years old, and not a miniature eight years old at that, sitting INSIDE the shopping cart his mother is hauling through the store. The kid (young adult) barely fits inside the thing, and his mother has to find whatever body-part-free nooks and crannies the lazy brat has left so she can stuff her various shopping items in them. He’s sitting there, sucking on some kind of ice cream treat, while she’s gathering foodstuffs and carefully inserting them in the parts of the cart where her son isn’t. Okay, I’m coming down pretty hard on the kid when, truthfully, what the hell is this mother thinking? I hope she’s thinking, “He’d better remember me when it comes time for the nursing home.” And he’d better.
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The cable went out for a few hours yesterday afternoon, during the Red Sox game. And…I didn’t care. Goes to show you what kind of season they’re having. Plus, I dropped two notches down from leading my fantasy league this week. It doesn’t help to have Pedroia, Buchholz and Justin Murneau all on the DL at the same time.
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I finished a short play which I hope will be part of the new Emerson College-Paramount Theatre event this fall. I utilized, once again, the two characters from my recent Boston Theater Marathon plays–Bethel and Clarice–who have been so beautifully played by Ellen Colton and Bobbie Steinbach. It’s called CASTING AMANDA, for those of you keeping score.
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From the “My Mother Never Threw Anything Out” department–I just found my father’s draft card from 1944. He never entered the service, but from the card it looks like he was 1-A. Perhaps the events in Normandy slowed things down a bit. Plus, I think he was kind of the head of his household at that time.
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Up until this year, I had not been in a swimming pool since 1973, when I broke down and took a swim in Gail Gilman’s pool. Why, you may ask, if I’m such an aquaphobe, did I take a swim in Gail Gilman’s pool in 1973? One look at Gail Gilman in 1973, and you’d have your answer. She asked me to. I did what I was told. Since that time, though, I’ve had no reason to indulge in any kind of waterfest. Now, though, with a beautiful pool in the backyard, I’ve come to see the attraction of a cool dip on a sweltering afternoon. “A Cool Dip On A Sweltering Afternoon.” Sounds like the B-side of a bad Mel Torme 45.
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I listened to the Original Cast album of CHICAGO as I ran today. We’re kinda thinking of doing the show at Dracut High School next spring. I have my fingers crossed, ’cause I’d love to direct it. Listening to the album also reminded me of the great, great show business career turned in by the late Jerry Ohrbach, who played Billy Flynn in the original. A New Yorker who pretty much stayed there, he fashioned himself a career that, while based in the theatre, spanned movies and TV, including superb work on LAW AND ORDER and in Woody Allen’s terrific CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS. He was the original El Gallo in THE FANTASTICKS and the original stage version of Chuck Baxter in PROMISES, PROMISES. And then there was 42nd STREET. And many other shows. Amazing.
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Okay, I’m now guilty of over-using the word “amazing,” and I will work to avoid using it in the future. I’m still trying to get the rest of the world off “awesome,” but I’m failing miserably. Even when I suggest the far more jauntily tongue-tripping “wicked pissa” as a replacement.
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Two entries in one week. I’m exhausted.