1. Last night, I saw mockumentary, the dance/video/music spectacular by locust at On the Boards. Because I have friends in the show, I’ll leave the opining to others. But I will say this: It is loud. It is energetic. And it settles the long-standing debate about whether zombies are capable of love. (They are.)

2. During intermission, someone pointed out that my profile of Genius Award-winner Jennifer Zeyl contains an embarrassing factual error: “WET mounted the first full version of [Crave], Sarah Kane’s experimental play, which had been directed all over the world as a chamber piece to be read, not acted.” That someone was Sean Ryan, who directed a 2002 production of Crave, which I actually saw. Twice! He didn’t ask, but seemed to want to ask: How could you have forgotten? Here is an explanation (not an excuse): Sometimes, for me, writing a story is like walking into a new house. And I get so lost in exploring that house, I forget things, important things, about the outside world. It shouldn’t have happened. I feel stupid. I’m sorry.

3. On my way home from the theater, one of two middle-aged men in matching blue jeans and bright t-shirts with stacks of CDs stopped me on the sidewalk, said a loud hello, and held out a CD for me to take. I reached out, he pulled it back: “I will sell it to you.” I said I didn’t have any money on me. He then made three assertions, two true, one not true: “You do have money for this CD [not true]. You just like to get things for free [true], white man [also true].”