So yesterday was quite the busy Sunday for me. It started out with me oversleeping and rushing a bit to make it to the Studio Theatre in time for the Playwright’s Festival, which featured 8 Train, a play written by my good friend, C. Ryan. It was an excellent example of a one-act play, with a smooth transgression from the light and airy beginning to a somber middle and concluded with a melancholic finale that was powerful in an understated way.
And then there was the Super Bowl, featuring the Panthers, the Patriots, and Janet Jackson’s boob. By now, this old Internet is filled with pointless banter discussing every possible point of the whole deal. There are some interesting discussions that I’ve been keeping my eye on, but I don’t feel like writing anything elaborate about it. As they say, it’s all been done before.