The Old Normal

Now is the time…

Sitting idle and feeling the simmering anger bubble and rage beneath the surface isn’t really doing it for me right now. On the street I’m working too hard to keep down my screams at the wrong-way bicyclists, the taxis hogging the pedestrian crossings, the double baby buggies taking up too…much…space. I feel myself turning into That Guy.

This is getting me nowhere.

And the depression. I know, I know. Anger turned inward, repressed. Thank you so much! I’ll remember that the next time I turn off the TV and feel that getting prone on the floor with a pillow over my head for the next four years is an answer. It's a return to the old normal.

And so to work. When it was gun violence, my response was to write my play RICOCHET. It’s a good play, still out there making the rounds, hoping for a production. When it was gay marriage, my response was KNOTS, now scheduled for a reading. When it was (and still is) the erosion of individual rights, I wrote PATRIOT-ISM, also still making the rounds.

So now it seems like we’re living in 1984 and even if it seems to be, It Can’t Happen Here, can it? even if we seem to be living with The Plot Against America. Each a terrific and admirable response to their historical realities.

This time I think I’ll say it with music. Something light and charming. About the erosion of the Bill of Rights. In a month or so. See? I feel better already.

Stay tuned.