Tonight, I'm sitting on my windowsill, a tiny bit drunk and eating stale french bread. Normally, I'd spare you, my reader, from the ramblings of an incoherent mind. But I've decided to write because Amsterdam has received it's heaviest snowfall in almost 30 years. That's why I'm staring out the window. There's almost a foot of snow. It's breathtaking, still, and heavy. And it's deceptively playful. I fell off my bike twice on the way home. And I watched one car spin completely in the center of the street.
It feels special, critical, and precious. My adjectives are only coming in threes. While I was out taking photographs, I saw a horde of Dutch people doing the same. Suddenly we were all tourists in Amsterdam.
Currently, we're revving up to the show process. Tom Janis is in town this week directing us. He's the father of the Second City revolution, a SNL alumnus, and director of Michael Moore's one-man-show. He's pushing us, provoking us, and commending us on our work. It's so so amazing to fall in love with improv again after being here for two very stale years. Stale like my bread. Yuck.
Alright, I'm going to bed.