I’m in a hotel bathrobe.

March 24, 2002

I’m in a hotel bathrobe. Its 9:20pm. Just got in from rehearsal and I’m turning my brain to liquid with the Oscars. Freakish egomaniacs on parade. Interesting. Better write quickly before I fall fast asleep.
The Kids in the Hall show is coming together and I’m feeling like I’m getting a grasp on how it might be when its really clicking. My hat is always off to the crew who work so bloody hard. Jim Millan, the director, has the patience of a stenographer at a rapper’s convention.
I’m starting to lose touch with the real world at home and fall into that state of suspended animation that comes with being whisked away both physically and mentally by such a huge creative endeavor. Calls to home at this time are a lovely reconnection. Soon they will also function as the jarring glass of cold water in the face that I need to bring me out of “work head”. I think some of these people at the Oscars need more than that. Perhaps a cup of scalding hot coffee dumped in their laps?