I’m writing this in the green room at the Vic Theatre in Chicago IL, sitting across from our production manager, Tim Burke. Tim, already a walking Buddha, is one of those freakazoid characters who’s actually made more pleasant by the lunatic hours and - how do I phrase this diplomatically - inconsistent working conditions one encounters out here while “making it” in show business.
He’s calm (impossibly calm), and patient (again, impossibly so), and appreciates the cathartic embrace that is swearing like a depraved sailor when the occasion calls for it. And any person capable of motivating a bunch of hung over paroled felons to arrange gigantic paper flowers in perfect feng shui deserves a statue in his honor.
Oh, and he’s a better guitar player than me, the bastard.