Ain't talkin', just walkin'

Up on the late side last night watching agassi slug his way through the baghdatis match. It was as close to boxing as any tennis i've seen in a while: circling, feinting and all that pain. We'll see how long andre can keep it up. I know everybody is hoping for a sampras-like swan song mixed with a connors-like resurrection. Couldn't happen to a better figure if it does happen. Plenty of drama in that career, on and off the court.

Meanwhile, i'm going to see the singing cowboy at a minor league ballpark in fishkill tonight. (Yes that's right, the town is named 'fishkill. Wonder what industry started that particular community?) The new cd is great, natch, and i got a bonus disc of one of his pay-radio shows devoted to a baseball theme, also most excellent. Rare tunes from way back in the vault - i didn't know that joe dimaggio and willie mays made records.

Big shake up at the village voice continues. A bunch of editors got canned yesterday, another sequel to the merger that happened last year, gotta be, right? They even fired christgau - and no matter what you think of his 'i defined the genre of rock criticism' attitude, you kind of have to admit he helped build that paper into what it is. Don't see how they can come out of this smelling like a rose. 'Course, i'm not inside.

Jayne houdyshell's play starts previews at playwrights horizons tonight! 'The pain and the itch,' comes here from steppenwolf, and it's a 'pay what you can' performance (tonight only). Almost makes me wish i weren't going to see dylan tonight.

The menu for tomorrow is almost, but not quite, worked out:

- garlic soup
- ravioli with wild mushroom sauce
- roast pork loin w/roasted veggies
- hearts-of-palm salad
- ... dessert is still the question mark. Alexis mentioned some kind of chocolate truffle cake, but that may be a little labor-intensive given the shortage of time. Whatever it's going to be, this evening looks, well... yum.

Happy labor day weekend.