Improv

Last night we had a late dinner at the Wynkoop and then proceeded downstairs to catch our friend JW performing with Impulse Theater. I had never before been to Impulse Theater, which is a wonder, since I have been friends with various Impulse cast members for at least thirteen years. BW introduced me to JW when we were working together at the Scientific and Cultural Facilities District. She called him the funniest man in the world. JW introduced me to opera and to KA, who introduced me to my Beloved J. (These initials are making my blog read like a bad roman a clef, or, similarly weird in a different way, a story by Kafka. I need to do something about this).

JW recently returned to Impulse Theater. He left it years ago, probably around the time I met him, or maybe earlier. His first tenure was during the time when the improv was called Comedy Sports. He is indeed one of the funniest men in the world (I am lucky to know a few guys who qualify for this honor). He is also wicked smart. Last night's MC accepted my suggestion that the cast do a scene in the tradition of magical realism, and when JW came out wearing a sombrero and proceeded to do the scene entirely in Spanish, I knew I was watching brilliance. Besides the costuming and the linguistic nod to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the scene included a toothbrush that turned into a bird and flew away and an apparition of the Virgin of Guadalupe, in the bathroom.

Afterward we joined JW and his lovely girlfriend, D, at the Wazee Supper Club, where we talked until they closed the place. They were stacking chairs on tables all around us, but we kept talking. It felt like years ago when we used to go to Damascus every Friday and stay so long after closing arguing and conversing that we became friends with the waitstaff and wound up having to overtip all the time.

We left finally, but we were only the second to last party to leave. On our way out we passed a couple on an early date. They were in that awkward place where they had fallen enough in love to not want to say goodnight, but the romance is too young to suggest something so gauche as to spend the night in bed together.

I wore my See by Chloe, dark gray, drop waist dress with my L.A.M.B. gladiator sandals in gold (four-inch stiletto). I carried my black, Isabella Fiore bag, and tiny, black, silk, no-consequence-designer sweater.

We finally slept at three.