Dearly beloved, are you listening?

Still sick as a dog. Hurry up, Mashiach and my still untitled Christmas poem are making the cyber-rounds to much enjoyment, which is nice. Oveous Maximus, member of the 2005 Nuyorican Slam team, fellow Astoria resident, and brother in this poetry/life thing, is rockin out at Joe's Pub tonight, but I was too busy coughing up phlegm in knucklehead's loving presence to get out to it. Also too sick to go to the Writer's Guild victory party. Even too sick to lose money at poker. Sigh.

The weekend was not without some highlights, tho, including going to CBST to see a friend leading prayer with some of the KZ posse, Knucklehead's old roommate coming in from out of town to visit, and seeing my college roommate and his beloved for dinner after Sunday matinees.

Tomorrow I meet with a heavy hitter in the Jewish social justice world (who happens to be a friend and good friend of Knucklehead's) to talk turkey about what's next for the Rubester. This week will be fairly quiet, so feel free to check in, lemme know you're out there.

Recommendation:
A Touch of the Poet, by Eugene O'Neil, is playing at Studio 54 (aside: never in my wildest fucking dreams did I think I would watch an O'Neil play at Studio 54. Andy Warhol must be doing some sommersaults underground), staring Gabriel Byrne. TREMENDOUS SHOW. Treated by Knucklehead, and what a spectacular performance. The whole cast was great. See it. And then go to the best Greek food in the Five Boroughs (sorry, Astoria) Uncle Nick's on 9th Ave.