There is a specific kind of time that exists only in New York theater: the four-hour gap. You had a 9:40 a.m. EPA at Ripley-Grier Studios on 8th Avenue, you have a 2:15 p.m. callback at Pearl Studios on 8th Avenue, and the MTA has decided that the intervening hours are yours to solve. You …
…” } I’ll present it as valid JSON. The instructions say “Return only valid JSON” â so no code fences? “Return strict JSON only” â I’ll output raw JSON without markdown fences to be safe. Hmm, but many of these tasks accept fenced JSON. “Return only valid JSON” suggests raw. I’ll output raw JSON, no …
The drawer in my nightstand doesn’t close properly. This is because it is full of notebooks. Not one notebook, not a curated set of three, but roughly eleven half-used Moleskines, four drugstore composition books, two unlined sketchpads I bought during a burst of artistic confidence I can no longer locate, and a promotional notebook from …
Making a home in New York City is a lot like keeping a show running on a frayed Equity contract: the moment you think you’ve got your footing, someone changes the blocking. The bodega that knew your coffee order becomes a bank. Your rent-stabilized walk-up gets a “luxury” lobby and a new name. The subway …
There is a particular kind of New York City morning that smells like wet cardboard and opportunity. I am standing in my kitchen, which is also my living room, which is also, on certain desperate days, my rehearsal studio. I am between gigs. Again. And I am trying to remember if I am a person …