I did go out this weekend. I saw on Saturday "Music from a Sparkling Planet." It had a poignant production beautifully acted and staged at The Amateur Comedy Club, directed with all the non-sequitor challenges surmounted by Scott Glascock, whom I know as a fellow Lamb. This play explains why playwright Douglas Carter Beane wrote the screenplay for the upcoming Bewitched. It also alerts us to the volatility of the late baby boomers who had their deepest relationships with television. The bursting optimism of fictitious TV personality Tamara Tomorrow is stimulating. What will the future bring? There's a Manhattan public access guy who always says what Tamara says in the play, "I'll see You in the Future!" Anyway, as we learn about her past in the play, we observe three mid-life crisis fellows uncover her present whereabouts.

Oh Brave New World!

I didn't live in Phillie where Mr. Beane's fabulous construct is set. The days of neighborhood networks are past; well, we have Manhattan Neighborhood Network, but not those cartoons in syndication... I'm sure we do somewhere.

Do I regret that the highlight of my youth was the films or TV shows that I saw?

I currently also demand unrestricted access to foreign broadcasts.

The other highlight on Sunday was a film that followed the Arlene Grocery Picture Show Screening of "Songs from Prepare to Meet Your Maker #10." What followed was a film called "Farming with Stanley." It's an impressively paced family documentary about a fascinating topic, tobacco, a sticky big leaf plant with tar residue. I want to buy a pack of camels.

There is a feeling of Deja Vu about this film. I spoke with someone about this, perhaps the filmmaker, once before, probably at Anthology during the Dolemite event, and basically repeated the exact questions I asked today. Anyway, I'm glad David Hollander scheduled the two films back to back because it reminds me, I should really considered going to Philip Morris for PTMYM funding.

There was a Camel cigarette photograph, backlit for barroom placement, of a woman, complexion blue as death, with smoke escaping from her face, which caught my eye during our performances at SideWalk.

My noticing and remembering this ad better than a conversation I might have had two months ago is an indication of my late baby boomer status, where an artistic represention, even a Camel Cigarette poster, competes for the sum total of my human experience.

So the farming film is a reminder of how people commerce in the miracles of nature outside of the big cities. Obsessive drudgery is a trap for all, is all I have to say.

Please note, I'm feeling particularly self-centered and down on myself of late because of my abject failure as a husband.