We are happy to welcome guest celebrity blogger Stephanie D'Abruzzo, who was nominated for a Tony Award for her Broadway debut in the Tony-winning musical Avenue Q. The singing actress, who will be seen in the Off-Broadway premiere of the new comedy with music, It Must Be Him, has blogged for Playbill.com all week; her final entry follows.
GOOD MORNING. So this is farewell. I end my week of blogging a few days before our gang at It Must Be Him are swallowed whole by that creature known as tech.
Maybe it’s a side effect from working on a play about a frustrated writer, or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never churned out this many pieces in a week before, but I have writer’s block.
I can hear your collective moaning out there. It’s such a cliché, I know, for people to write about how they have writer’s block and to blather on and on about how awful it is to have nothing to say and how maddening it is to be on a deadline with no blood left in their veins. But, at least in my case, it’s true. I remember a line from a John Augustine play that ran in Summer Shorts 2, alongside the piece I was in with Jonathan C. Kaplan, that said something to the effect of: “Clichés exist because they’re true.” It might have been stereotypes, not clichés, but no matter... they’re close cousins. In any case, I’d been saying that for years, about clichés/stereotypes existing because they’re often true. And when a playwright echoes something you’ve felt for a long time, you feel especially validated. So I unapologetically own this horrid, clichéd writer’s block and its resulting spillage onto today’s blog post, and respectfully suggest that you just suck it up.
I could fill out my required word minimum by expounding upon all the beautiful people I have come to know in the show, but then I’d start to blur the line of what should be public and what should be personal. I can, however, give you the handy hint that if you ever get to work with Peter Scolari, keep your ears pricked at all times. Some of his rehearsal asides are gems, and sometimes I am the only one who hears them, but oh, lucky me.
Or I could focus on the more important elements of the rehearsal process, like lunch. How convenient to have Schnipper’s Quality Kitchen and their oh-so-tasty sloppy joes and other victuals of comfort just a couple of blocks away. And yes, there’s the dangerous Shake Shack beckoning as well.
But it’s just not enough to fill a blog. That’s why I’m not on Twitter... I don’t even have 140 characters in me some days. Why have we created this technological contest that tries to match brevity with levity? No one’s life is that interesting on a daily basis, so you either have celebrities hiring “ghost-tweeters” or you have all these really mundane regurgitations of the day. I am convinced that the real reason that the Library of Congress is archiving Twitter feeds is for the preservation of sandwich history. Because that seems to be what a lot of people tweet about: sandwiches. It also would appear to fuel most Facebook status updates. “So-and-so is making a sandwich.” “Just had an AMAZING sandwich.” “I’m off to grab a sandwich.” “What a horrible sandwich.” Even if you don’t count burgers and lobster rolls, we appear to be living in a very sandwich-centric era.
Well, lookie there. I’m way past 500 words, and it only took three tangents to get there.
Now, now, m’dears, don’t let my word counting give you the wrong idea. It’s been an utter joy to share these five unforgettable days with you. I hope that you’ve enjoyed these tiny peeks into our world at It Must Be Him and the larger peeks into my deeply flawed mind. I’d tell you to check out your local library to find out more, but that smacks of a CBS “Read More About It” tag from 1978. You can, however, check out ItMustBeHimPlay.com, or even stephaniedabruzzo.com (though I can’t promise that you will learn anything remotely useful at my site). It’ll be as though we never said goodbye.
If this blog was a variety show, now would be the time where I would stand alone on the stage in the ridiculous costume I wore in the big finale number and thank everyone, like Andrew Gans and the gang at Playbill.com, and the folks at It Must Be Him, and my special guest subject Orson Welles (wasn’t he a great sport, folks?), and then I’d sing my 4-bar goodbye song:
What a little slice of heaven
What a giant slab of fun
What a mid-sized pile of sunshine
But now my blog is done
Have a swell weekend, kids.