Last Friday night Simi and I attended a fabulous production which I will write about shortly, but not now: I’m wrapping up for the day at Simi’s office and am heading uptown for a game of tennis at the 96th Street courts in Riverside Park. Sigh.
Reading through my scribbled notes I took that night, I had forgotten I’d written down some great lines from an anonymous gossip. He was talking about a young playwright he’d recently worked with as a dramaturg on his second play. He said to his friend, in a mock-simulation of a conversation with the young gun:
“OK, you’ve written your pot play, now we’ve got your crack play, now we need a heroin play.”
Apparently plays about addicts are SO twentieth century.