The USS Nordo Sets Sail

We are at the mid-point of our voyage. Only 9 shows remain.

My lord, it’s been too long since the last entry. Oh the things that have gone on here at Cafe Nordo. In that time the incredibly absurd voyages of the USS Nordo have set sail entertaining Seattle audiences with the ocean's delights. The voyage is just now half done with 9 trips left. Each night a new group of adventurous souls travels with us through the wonders of the Salish Sea to arrive at the most hip apocalyptic beach resort yet conceived- Hotel Kodiak. I won’t give away any endings but you should know that our party hosts (despite their peculiar physical condition) serve up a wicked rum shot with dessert, can do a mean marimba, and have plenty of SPF 190 on hand to fend off those scorching rays of our new sun.

Check out this review from the Seattle Times and enjoy the following production shots that give just a hint of what's hidden inside Cafe Nordo.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/thearts/2011949663_cafenordo26.html

And look out for the continuing adventures of our Chef. What is the next diabolical plan?

The Siren's Tale

Once upon a time there was a sea, a sea that swallowed sailors, and their cries echoed between the waves and the sun like all the forlorn cries of gulls fighting for a bit of dead fish. Between its waves, waves towering like the gaping maw of cliff sides, the sailors cried their pitiful cries and disappeared, sunk to the bottom like so many rocks, with no more in their eyes than rocks, until they touched the sandy bottom and became the roots of kelp. Sailors love the sea and seas love to swallow sailors.

Isabella sees them all. She watches them from her undersea garden. They find more waves, and more rocks, and more kelp to sleep in. They find more to name and more to net and they never cease. They are a hoard.

The gulls who swim in the sky urge us into the waves. They chide us to charge on, swim on. They are the jokesters laughing at us. And we fly wild into the sea no longer made of water, into the waves that tear us apart into strips of wind, into the rocks bare and parched in this new sun’s heat. Along the dark horizon, where the ships sit like tiny toys on the dry seabed and the great nets unravel, the bodies of all the sailors will be revealed and their water soaked souls will sing. These laments are the songs of love and loss on the Salish Sea.