May 28, 2012 marked the end of a stupendous three-month run of the musical I co-wrote, The Color Purple, at The Celebration Theatre in LA.
Originally performed on Broadway in a 2000 seat theatre with a cast of 31, and later on tour with a slightly smaller cast but remaining in 2000+ seat venues, the Celebration performance featured 19 actors in a 99 seat theater.
Totally reconceived, this performance was wrapped with the kind of intimacy we wrote it with. I loved the original and this production rose to the same heights. To show my gratitude, I threw a party to thank the cast, crew, director and producers for pulling off the nearly impossible, stuffing a huge musical into a tiny yet fantastic theatre.
Way, way, wayyyy, more Purple party pleasure here.
Photos: Barry Weiss, Mark Blackwell, and Dina Duarte.
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You all know of my love for the physical structure of my classic Deco baby blue high school in Detroit, Mumford, as well as my dismay that the wrecking ball is hitting it mere months after the concert I’m doing/hosting there THIS Thursday night. One of the MANY reasons the school is near and dear to my heart is also because it was made famous in the film I won a GRAMMY for, Beverly Hills Cop, when Eddie Murphy wore a t-shirt bearing its name throughout the movie.
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New Year’s Eve, 2011. I’m coming down Sunset Plaza, a really windy road with million dollar homes right above Sunset Blvd. in LA. I’m in my Green Beetle, which is a lean and fast machine.
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I can think of a lot of things to rent from Abbey Rents but I prefer them to be more in the mode of party supplies than bedpans.
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As many times as I’ve stopped at The Madonna Inn, I’ve never stayed overnight until a trip to celebrate my birthday a couple of weekends ago. I’ve always fantasized about staying there. How could I not with each of the 109 rooms uniquely designed and insanely themed, with names like Love Nest, Old Mill, Kona Rock, Irish Hills, Cloud Nine, Just Heaven, Hearts & Flowers, Rock Bottom, Austrian Suite, Cabin Still, Old World Suite, Caveman Room, Elegance, Daisy Mae, Safari Room, Highway Suite, Jungle Rock, American Home, Bridal Falls, and more? I picked the floral crested Madonna Suite, which was personally decorated in the late 60s by the Inn’s Grand Dame, Phyllis Madonna.
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Bright and early the weekend before Thanksgiving Prudence Fenton and I hopped in the mustache van and drove up the coast to San Luis Obispo.
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Gay as in ye ol’ sense of the word: happy, frolicking through the streets of Paris with n’ary a concern in the world. I love this Little ashtray for much more than its gayness however. Above all, I relish the little paint mounds that stand above all the matte black surfaces.
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Heading out of LA last Thursday on the 5 was a mess. An overturned 20-wheeler heading south spilled oranges, lemons and an entire tank of fuel, cloggin up both sides of the freeway like cholestrol in arteries. My travel mate, Snappy P, and I almost had an anuerism baking in the 106 degree sun at a standstill on the fuel-with-lemon-zested highway. So we cut over on 126 to the 101, which added a couple hours onto the trip but also took us past one of the most blessed sights in California, The Madonna Inn, in San Luis Obispo.
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Are men’s noses really snottier than women’s? Do they run more? Does a woman with a bad cold honestly deserve a smaller size tissue than a man with the same malady? According to this decades old commercial, I guess so:
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