Two stories for the price of one

That price being some major thrashing between 10:30 pm last night and 8 am this morning.

Storyline 1: Lynn’s screenplay about a rural Oklahoma woman who wants to explore outer space is filmed. In its first week of release, it doesn’t make the box-office top ten and is therefore ignored by television reporters, though Entertainment Weekly gives it a B-plus: “The lack of high-dollar special effects gives it much greater plausibility.” Atypically for new releases, it gains some ground in its second week, a little more in the third, until the media are forced to pronounce it a sleeper hit.

Storyline 2: Both girlfriends, a smattering of hangers-on, and a number of people I’ve never seen before show up at the townhouse I share with K. Kendall Kade, who is sort of a black Jack Black. Kade’s been on the road for months and months, and everyone (except, well, me) is anxious to greet him, but time stretches out farther and farther until half the entourage seems to be playing Vladimir and the other half Estragon.

I blame Tylenol.







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