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I'm baded and jitter. So are these people. (And why not follow the previous, next, or random links?)

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Doug vs. Japanese Snack Foods: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

rant is where the heart is

diaryland: entry for 2000-08-13 (21:35:59)
In which our plucky young hero sums up the Fringe.

What is the Fringe?

It's street buskers who play musical instruments you've never heard of. It's escape artists and mimes who dress in robot costumes with signs that say Coins Make Me Move. It's walking past a senior citizen playing a one-man orchestra, two teenagers playing the bagpipes, and a fire eater.

It's theater. Short plays and skit pieces and stuff that just plain defies classification. It's Macbeth with two actors and 50 minutes, improv comedy from New Mexico, a Belgian assassin who is transformed by an Eagles song.

It's lots of attractive members of the apposite sex being out and about, some of whom wear next to nothing, and that's sort of depressing when you're alone. (Especially when you finally talk to one of the most startlingly beautiful women you've seen all day, and it turns out she's one of the actors and is leaving for Edmonton the next morning. But I'm actually not bitter.)

It's over for the year, and I can't wait for next year.

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