Okay, I was looking to avoid basking in my insecurities. Besides, so many go without saying - not only am I doing a show about stillbirth but this is not my town, I don't have any contacts, no following, I've got both hands tied behind my back when it comes to dragging an audience in to see our show.
So Toni, Z. and I had just rolled into town after driving for two days (baby's first road trip - memo to myself: don't just add a few hours, take the estimated driving time and double it) and we were excited and a little punchy. My brother Denny helped schlep everything up to his apartment, we're all sitting down to order Thai from this great new place up the street ... but I have to dash to the bookstore to get a copy of City Pages and check out my listing.
This is a big deal, people - the weekly newspaper, the only weekly newspaper, the one "our crowd" reads, you know - who knows which people will see more of, the website or this paper. As a matter of fact, no, this is not just the City Pages listing, in fact, CP has their own abbreviated listings of the Fringe (and I ain't in 'em) this is the official Fringe guide, included in CP as a supplement.
They took my photo, the sitting one, and cut off my head and my feet. No Dave face, no little shoes. Just big Dave crotch. Welcome to the Fringe.
Okay, that's it, it all goes up from here. The bumper stickers arrived (thanks, Brian, they look GREAT) and tomorrow Denny and I and maybe another Fringer will drive around town and drop them and the postcards as many places as humanly possible. Nick arrives around 3 PM. We're off.
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