By Jim Hagarty
A friend told me I think too much. So I went home and thought about that. All day. And now, I think, she might be on to something. Recently, for example, I started thinking: “Wait a minute. On April 7, I am going to walk out onto a stage with a wooden box with a hole in it with six plastic strings attached, and with my eight fingers and two thumbs, I am going to do something to the box to try to entertain a group of innocent people who have gathered there and paid money to hear sounds from my wooden box and whatever I manage to force out of my voice box.” At least I think that is what I’ve been thinking.
(Tonight, at The Hall in Stratford. Valdy and I in concert.)