February Blahs Means Fringe Season is almost here, sort of
It’s February 13th. Cars still drive back and forth across Lily Lake (aka my lake). Snow mounds are about 5 feet high, crusted with rock hard ice and dirty as hell. The temperature was in the low 20s when I left the coffee shop. Balmy. Coat open, bald head hatless. Sort of a stupid grin on my face. It’s a normal February 13th in Stillwater, Minnesota. February is a short month and then comes March, which is perhaps the cruelest month. We Minnesotans hold out too much hope that March is a harbinger of warmth. It is our second snowiest month. And not pretty white fluffy holiday season snow. Oh no, March snow is glompy and wet and heart attack hard to shovel. But something else happens in March. Those of us who will be fringing somewhere (or many wheres) start to realize that it’s time to really start thinking about what the hell we’ll be doing this year. Maybe I’m casting the net too broadly-some already know the what and with whom. Maybe everyone else but me. I’m not what you would call a plan well ahead type of guy. I travel tons. I always pack no earlier than the night before. I don’t feel smug about it. It’s just who I am. I sort of know what I’ll be doing in Fringe(s) this year. Loren Niemi and I will again join forces to push the boundary of “storytelling” to the point where the traditionalists will once again condemn me as a heretic (and, I fear, taint Loren in the process), and the edgy under 40 folks will wonder what the hell we do. Well so what . I (we) do what I (we) do. It seems to be working: our show in Indiana last year was one of the top attended shows in that Fringe; each of our separate Minny Fringe shows did exceptionally well. But I digress. Or maybe not. Right about now, the days are getting longer, the sun feels real and the Minny Fringe lottery will be this Wednesday evening at Bedlam, and that feels damn good.
