It’s like some weird last gasp of the dying ego. This is magnified by my own uncertainty about my state of mental well being. In my mind I have convinced myself that there is an expiration date approaching quickly, so I gotta jam my foot on the gas to get to relevance. It’s like a destination.

Choices are limited in achieving a complex goal like this. At some point, I selected to perform live again. Since then I have been working on a jazz set, a one man show, a Neil Diamond set, a Classical set… and a Sinatra set. Ms. Chicapee tries to remind me to slow down, but I cant help but feel like my expiration date is approaching.

I learned from Deb about “Accommodations” years ago, and when I was at CLU I worked with the disabilities folk on IT stuff. So I am looking at building accommodations that will allow me to at least pull off some masterful sleight of hand.

The one man show has 14 minutes of dialogue and 6 or 7 tunes from La Mancha, Camelot and South Pacific. Don’t you know I will have words and lyrics on discreet monitors and an ear-feed for the dialogue.

There’s a disingenuous side of my nature that would say I am doing this for purely altruistic reasons. Maybe that’s the fallback for all actors rather than just to say we crave the laughter and applause.