Floyd B, Franny M and I were having lunch on Sat after a fringe show and Floyd turned to look up from his smoked sausage and said to me, “You’ll blog about this, won’t you?” I said nothing and he said. “Please be kind.” Franny just smiled. Larry said something completely different and unrelated yesterday as we were eating dinner in the east village after the second consecutive fringe show. But I won’t repeat it. You had to be there. K brought home a bunch of instruments like she was starting a band. I wonder if she’s starting a band. I told her I want to play the sax she brought, and I do. I do want to learn to play it. --------------------------------- August Wilson is dying. What must it be like to know you’re dying and to know no one can do anything about it? Is he rushing to write a new play in the months he has left? What does one do with those months? We’ll miss him.