The show I am producing is still the fits and starts of a messy production. No matter how good the music is, the book undermines the musical goodwill of the show. I've made numerous suggestions on needed cuts, and I also proposed a radical idea - making this an operetta with only the spoken portion of the show being the stand-up. The writer/composer is too close to the material to clearly see what is needed. But this is a workshop and in the process, I know the show will blossom.
I leave for NYC on the 21st to produce a live radio broadcast from the Grammys. I'm looking forward to getting out of town for a few days, experiencing some actual weather, and being in NYC during an orange alert.
I'm also still working on the start-up and have had to devote many hours to its progress in the last week. I continue to grow more frustrated with those with whom I will be working. One is a man who has a great reputation in radio and who I am beginning to truly respect. The other three principals each have unbearable behavior. Moe is a loud, gregarious buffoon who clouds his darkness with Music Man delivery. Larry is weak and acquiescent to the others. Curly is dour and uncommunicative.
Add all three jobs together and I am still not making my enlarged monthly nut. But it is still income. And I am busy. Both are very important factors to my mental health.
Last night at around midnight, I had a total Billy meltdown. It came out of nowhere. BAM! Fetal position and crying hysterically and hugging Bob and trying to reconcile why our lives are the way they are. Why was my baby robbed of a good thirty more years? How can it be none of our future will happen? These questions and more ride on their ugly little Mobius strip and always arrive back to the same point.
I woke up this morning and saw the little Valentines Day painting Billy made me a few years ago. I smiled. I am the luckiest man on earth to have known him. I thank God for putting him in my life. I just don't understand why he had to go home so soon. And I never will.