N E X T S H O W: ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
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And that is why I probably should not show any photos of my actual face--wait, I am jumping ahead. Greetings ladybugs and gentlemannequins! Hurrah! Not long ago, I pleased the neighboring witch with a gift of knitted winter mittens, which she found quite useful for her broomstick-splintered fingers. Her usual frown faded for a tick when she discovered comfort in my needlework; a tiny breath of appreciation seeped through her dusty heart. She broke her spell that was cast upon me. My head was returned to its normal dimensions, a melon with Dumbo satellites on each side, and no longer a GIANT peach!
However, another unfortunate newsreel to reveal, further prolonging any postings of current photos with my actual face. Oh, the misadventures of this ol' Baron. So um, during one recent evening when swirls of clouds floated in the navy-blue heavens above, I walked into a dreary situation. Upon preparing for my part-time job replacing urinal cakes in the men's restroom at The X in San Francisco, the clock hands were turning faster than I could slab pomade on my coiffure and put the bunnies through the rabbit holes on my shoes. Late. Drat. When I finally arrived, I barged into the club owner's office to apologize for my tardiness. Gosh, I should have knocked like what a polite person usually does, for lo and behold, I saw Mr. Maori receiving fellatio from not his mildly attractive girlfriend, but his girlfriend's good friend Leon, the bartender. Yeah, KIND of awkward.
As not to be fired--for those tiny paychecks are all I have for pleasant times at Mitchell Brothers O'Farrell Theatre--I quickly gripped both of their Adam's apples like raven talons to a small bird until their gasps slowly faded to silence. A problem. Not the fresh cadavers, mind you, 'twas my light bulb. It was then, in the madness of my unplanned outcome, that I remembered the cameras behind the eyes of the eleven owl statues keenly placed around the room. Yes, some months back, I had overheard Mr. Maori's phone call to order the security devices. "Don't panic," was the only advice I could remember from my Hitchhiker's Guide. I walked with swiftness toward the side door--though in my head I violently ran--and stepped out into the chilled breath of the evening. Since then, I have been playing hide-and-seek with pseudo-Sherlocks and the various boys in blue. As you can imagine, displaying my mug shot or profile on this "space" could destroy my free movement with jail bars and a husky fellow named Sally. With that said--er, typed--hope you have a curious day!
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Play. Speak. Question. Listen. Think. Change. Grow. Goal.
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One of the details in life that gives Baron orgasm ?
Boat docks at night.
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One of the many sounds that Baron listens dearly to ?
Steady, far-off hum of freeway traffic during the wee hours of the morning.
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One of the many smells that Baron inhales with pleasure ?
Blown-out matchsticks.
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One of Baron's many annoying pets named Peeve ?
When people are right in front of Baron, and needing to pick up something from the floor or ground, they bend at the waist, rather than at the knees. (The only moon that I am eager to see is in the night sky or on the mattress with a woman so movepleasethankyouuu).
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A thought-bubble from Baron.
I prefer the "go-into-store" people, not the "stay-in-car" ones.
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"How doth the little crocodile improve its shining tail
and pour the water of the Nile on every golden scale.
How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spread its claws,
and welcomes little fishies in with gently smiling jaws."
—The Caterpillar (smugly exhaling from hookah)
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**Flyers of shows from yesterday & yestermonth...
Friday, March 09th, 2007!
Wednesday, April 11th, 2007!
Thursday, May 31st, 2007!
Thursday, June 14th, 2007!
Sunday, June 24th, 2007!
