A strangely empty rush hour this evening; I've seen more traffic on the roads at 11 PM. A few chunks of trees in the neighborhood streets; the greater hazard is the paste of wet leaves on the streets, an early, green autumn. The traffic signal on South Lakes Drive was dark, and the power at home departed for an hour and a half. I arrived home to a twilit and silent house, that is, silent except for the bleating of the UPS keeping my external hard drive spinning. Oh, and my answering machine seems to have slipped into madness.

posted: 6:48:33 PM  

The first line of light drizzle has crossed the suburbs of Washington as Isabel approaches. Just an ordinary late-late summer's day.

posted: 9:13:15 AM  

The Mineola Twins, by Paula Vogel, directed by Darryl V. Jones, Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, Washington

Paula Vogel's recent episodic creation follows the identical twins Myra and Myrna across time, from the Eisenhower administration through the first Bush regime.

This play, in six scenes plus dream sequences, gives set designer Daniel Ettinger and the rest of the technical crew the opportunity to show their stuff. Ettinger's design calls for a wall aligned on the diameter of a revolve; director Jones has created two non-speaking roles, a pair of threatening-looking G-Men, and has given them a spicy series of disco dances to cover the (usually silent) scene and costume transitions going on behind them.

Unfortunately, they can't add the same spice to the script, which finds its only satiric bite in scene 5, when Myra has become a successful right-wing radio talk show host. Part of the problem lies with Sarah Marshall, playing Myra/Myrna, who, despite a helpful series of distinguishing wigs, doesn't clearly articulate two distinct characters, but rather plays her usual wacky schtick.

On the upside, the double casting of MaryBeth Wise as Myrna's boyfriend Jim and as Myra's lover Sarah gives some of Myrna's lines an extra kick.

posted: 9:10:36 AM  

I saw my first Segway in the wild yesterday. In late morning rush hour, a somewhat paunchy guy was making his way delicately down the grass-cracked sidewalk at the corner of Park and Maple Avenue East in downtown Vienna. He was helmeted (as I recall the helmet resembled something from a 50s TV show, all rounded and jet-piloty); he carried a few things in a backpack. In his left hand, dangling from a string, was a light cardboard box, smaller than a birthday cake, more the size of a cheesecake.

posted: 9:09:08 AM