The Friday Round-Up

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When this Spoleto Buzz blogger finds that, because of an unfortunate dependancy on food, sleep, and a regular paycheck, he’s fallen way behind in his posting duties – as, for example, now – 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 evening’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 Frédéric Antoun’s (Roméo of Roméo 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 Marcus’s or a paraphrase of what Marcus said to me: “If you saw Tristan and Yseult’s Mark Shepherd at the Conversations With program on Sunday, you wasted your time. Overton’s interview with him on Thursday was infinitely more informed, erudite, and entertaining.” With luck, the tooth marks on my neck will disappear before Monday.

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* Speaking of Frédéric Antoun, he was sitting a few seats down from me at the concert with his girlfriend, who’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, they’re hoping to see Don Giovanni on Sunday. Got tickets you want to get rid of? He’s your man. Apparently, he’s hoping to pick some up for a song... (Okay, so sue me.)

* If you’d abandoned all hope of landing a ticket to Jeff Daniels’ performance at

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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 Piccolo’s the filet of fringe festivals. Go ahead.

* I don’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 – whatever activity is necessary, criminal or otherwise, I’m urging you to undertake it. I’d write a thorough description of the show if I could, but

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I’ve found my notes are essentially chicken scratch. Like the rest of the audience at last night’s show, I was so incapacitated with laughter I could hardly breath, much less write legibly. If you want the complete DL, read Holly Burns’ 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 don’t read it, just buy a ticket now. You’ll never hear the words ‘pumpernickel’ or ‘sweet, sweet beej’ again without collapsing into muscle-seizing hysterics.

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