A long time ago, in a galaxy totally close by, I produced a play based on the TV show “Bewitched.” I haven’t thought of it in ages, but in a random search I came across a little bit written by Mr. SF, Hank Donat, who I kind of remember, a little. Before you start coming after me with scripts you want me to produce, let me tell you, this production cost very little money. I think we had a fund raiser where we lost money because so much sangria was consumed. Still, we somehow made it.

I even acted in the second incarnation of the stage production of Bewitched. I was the “Commercial Girl” and in between acts I did commercials, alone, on stage. I silently mixed cocktails, and drank them, I smoked a cigarette out of a long holder, drove a car, and hula hooped. Sometimes all at the same time. At the end (because it was Christmas) I got to go into the audience and throw toys at people. It was time consuming, nerve racking, and fun.

Someone quit in the speaking cast, after awhile, and then director Prentiss Smithson (who was also one of my best friends) made me take a speaking part. That part, a one-liner, was a lesbian activist who falls in love with Joan of Arc. My line? I remember it very clearly. “I like HER. I REALLY like her.”

That was a million years ago, really. It always feels like time is going by so fast, but that was eleven or whatever years ago and it feels like an eternity. So maybe time is not speeding by the way we think it is. Maybe days, and months fly, but years don’t. Doesn’t it seem like last June was a really long time ago? It does to me.

I haven’t seen Prentiss Smithson in forever, and he was a very, very good friend. It’s weird how people come and go in life. I remember so many insane nights sitting in the front room of Prentiss’s house on 16th Street in San Francisco, with all this Egyptian shit painted on the walls, drinking wine and ingesting whatever, eventually slithering around with a bunch of bohemian types to the soundtrack of “Hair” or the Velvet Underground, or Ween. It was quite a scene and I met a lot of people there. But now I am gone and they probably don’t remember me anymore.

But I remember Prentiss! And I know some of the people who read Poptarticus will, too.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 31st, 2005 at 10:04 pm and is filed under Tales from a Strange Land. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.