Bill Bowers is an old college friend of Josie's. They once lived together in a log cabin with a communal bath while doing summer stock. I tried to get him to spill some embarrassing dirt on Josie, but the worst (best) he could do was that Josie had a plaque with Dale Carnegie hanging above her bed (which, I guess, is pretty embarrassing).



Bill has a one-man show in the Village right now called It Goes Without Saying which is running at least into early October. Josie and Russ were going to see it, but Russ wasn't feeling well and Josie asked if I wanted his ticket (thanks, Josie!). It's a great show, talking about Bill's life as a mime (you laugh, but I have new respect for the artform after this show), growing up gay in rural Montana where plenty of things both in his home as well as in and around the rest of town went unsaid, and then moving to New York in the 80s, with HIV and AIDS running rampant, and still, even here, nobody was saying anything. Which all ties back into the whole mime thing, of course.



Along the way and in between are plenty of hilarious and bittersweet stories of good gigs and bad (at one point he was touring the country as a Slim Goodbody -- he may have even come to my school once), one truly surreal trip into just-liberated East Germany, and hiding from scary mime students while studying with Marcel Marceau, all culminating in a final, beautiful scene that is acted out without a single word.