Happy birthday, Dad!

Who knew we’d be singing, “Who Will Buy” together in a show again? Fifteen years later?

Have fun drinking that moonshine in “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves” — that’s going to be epic.

You know, Seasons? That coffeeshop by your house?”

“I think you mean Soho’s, Dad. Sojourners.”

“Sojourners. With a ‘J’, not an ‘H’.”

Want v. Need: Staring Mortality in the Face

At some point, I need to admit to myself that what I like to do and what I need to do to take care of myself are on polar ends of the health spectrum.

Alaspoor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. —Where be your gibes now? Your gambols?