When this Spoleto Buzz blogger finds that, because of an unfortunate dependancy on food, sleep, and a regular paycheck, heโ€™s fallen way behind in his posting duties โ€“ as, for example, now โ€“ he finds the best way to make short work of a lot of buzz is to break out the bullets. To wit:

* Prior to yesterday eveningโ€™s Festival Concert, a dash into the Spoleto press room for a quick shot of Pinot Grigio landed me in a brief but harrowing conversation with Marcus Overton, host of public radio program Spoleto Today, who nearly ripped my throat out for 1) spelling Frรฉdรฉric Antounโ€™s (Romรฉo of Romรฉo et Juliette) name with an additional k, and 2) having failed to mention on my podcast that his program, too, is available as a podcast this year at the SCETV website. The following, then, are my own words, I assure you, and not in any way Marcusโ€™s or a paraphrase of what Marcus said to me: โ€œIf you saw Tristan and Yseultโ€™s Mark Shepherd at the Conversations With program on Sunday, you wasted your time. Overtonโ€™s interview with him on Thursday was infinitely more informed, erudite, and entertaining.โ€ With luck, the tooth marks on my neck will disappear before Monday.

* Speaking of Frรฉdรฉric Antoun, he was sitting a few seats down from me at the concert with his girlfriend, whoโ€™s been here with him all week, and said hello to me at intermission (listen to our podcast conversation this week here). If they can get tickets, theyโ€™re hoping to see Don Giovanni on Sunday. Got tickets you want to get rid of? Heโ€™s your man. Apparently, heโ€™s hoping to pick some up for a song… (Okay, so sue me.)

* If youโ€™d abandoned all hope of landing a ticket to Jeff Danielsโ€™ performance at Charleston Music Hall tomorrow night because you figured it would be sold out by now, organizer Sheri Grace Wenger tells me there are still a fair number of seats available. If you see him, ask him to say Piccoloโ€™s the filet of fringe festivals. Go ahead.

* I donโ€™t care if you have to beg, borrow, steal, or con a ticket to the remaining one performance of We Used To Go Out at Theatre 99 โ€“ whatever activity is necessary, criminal or otherwise, Iโ€™m urging you to undertake it. Iโ€™d write a thorough description of the show if I could, but Iโ€™ve found my notes are essentially chicken scratch. Like the rest of the audience at last nightโ€™s show, I was so incapacitated with laughter I could hardly breath, much less write legibly. If you want the complete DL, read Holly Burnsโ€™ review here. (Though I have no idea how she managed to write a damn thing during the show, because I saw her laughing as hard as I was.) Or donโ€™t read it, just buy a ticket now. Youโ€™ll never hear the words โ€˜pumpernickelโ€™ or โ€˜sweet, sweet beejโ€™ again without collapsing into muscle-seizing hysterics.


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