Posts Tagged ‘sketch comedy’

Paul and I will be your performing monkeys on Saturday, February 18 at 8 pm, in Pittsfield, Mass for the 10 x 10 Variety Show at New Stage Performing Arts Center, part of the larger 10 x 10 On North festival. We will be doing a sketch, written by Paul, which debuted last November in Northampton; he never got to see it because he was out of the country.

You know there’s not going to be snow (AGAIN) on Saturday night, so why not come see us instead of heading for Berkshire East? The drive into the Berkshires will be [roughly] the same, culture costs less than skiing, and you can have that romantic dinner you planned for Valentine’s Day but couldn’t do because Tuesday was a school night and you had to stay home with kiddies. To top it all off, Pittsfield recently did not fast-track a new meth clinic right downtown.

Again, your choice, this:


or something more akin to this

If you do show up, wave from your seat, blow air kisses, and feel free to buy us drinks (but at least wait until we’ve delivered our last lines).

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On the heels of our smash sketch comedy show last night at the World War II Club in Northampton, Mass, here’s a sketch, from way back in 2007, in which yours truly plays a supporting role. Written by Hubby and starring some of the usual suspects from the sketch comedy troupe “Side of Toast:”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Or, one of my favorite poems (please be aware that wordpress doesn’t maintain line breaks, so the line “washed out all tracks” is actually indented 4 spaces in the original text):

Women We Never See Again

Three are women we love whom we never see again.
They are chestnuts shining in the rain.
Moths hatched in winter disappear behind books.
Sometimes when you put your hand into a hollow tree
you touch the dark places between the stars.
Human war has parted messengers from another place—
they cross back to each other at night,
going through slippery valleys, farmyards where rain has
washed out all tracks,
and when we walk there, with no guide, saddened, in the dark,
we see above us glowing the fortress made of ecstatic blue stone.

Robert Bly

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