Outtie

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We all know I’m not great about updating this blog, but for the next three weeks, you can look for my underachievement to sink to new depths. That’s because you gotta tear down before you can build up, Man! Later today I’m hopping a plane to L.A., where I, along with 22 other arts journalists (pro and semi-) from around the country, will spend two weeks in intensive study with our betters.

My specific betters include Los Angeles Times pop maven Ann Powers (she of the fine No Line on the Horizon review) and Dean of American Rock Critics Bob Christgau, whose Rock Albums of the 70s: A Critical Guide may not have settled a lot of arguments in my house a few years back, but was certainly cited frequently as evidence. How did I score with two top-tier pop music critics when the ostensible focus of this program is theatre and musical-theatre jounalism? Don’t know. Gift horse. In his maw, I shall not peer. But I could say the same about my classmates, too. These people are what Chuck Klosterman might call Advanced.

The best part? I’s all on your dime (and mine) — the fellowship is sponsored by the National Endowment for the Arts. I know three writers who have participated in prior installments (my class is the seventh), and their Kung Fu is mighty.

I may or may not tell you all about in May. But either way, you will See the Difference in whatever you next see here. So stay tuned!

No, don’t stay tuned. Get up, mingle, read a book, do something else. I’ll meet you back here in a few weeks.

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