hackneyed 2007 wrap-up post

So...New Year's? Not my current favorite holiday.

Though I AM looking forward to this new year, very, very much. 2007 has been a long fucking year. Lots of good stuff happened, lots of lousy stuff happened... I think it's safe to say that it was definitely my most dramatic, action-packed year yet. I don't know. I experienced some of my proudest moments ever-- WTTAN, BUSTAMFOP in general, graduation-- and some of my worst personal-life moments to date. I turned 22. I moved. All sorts of things.

Anyway, here's something to ring out the old:

Hark! From the tomb a doleful sound
Mine ears attend the cry
Ye living men, come view the ground
Where you must shortly lie!

Princes, this clay must be your bed
In spite of all your towers
The tall, the wise, the reverend head
Must lie as low as ours.

Great God, is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb
And yet prepared no more.

A song of cheer and happiness from the Sacred Harp. Really, though, Plenary (162 for the dorks) is one of my favorite tunes to sing, and we sang it twice today-- once in a small sing we had at home, and once on the street as we were leaving dinner. It's a gorgeous melody, and a familiar one, and those words really mean something, I'm not sure what, to me. They've stuck with me since the first time I sang that song, which is probably just about a year ago now.

I guess to conclude, if this what I'm doing-- this past year has taught me that nothing is more important than surrounding myself with people that I love. It's the only thing that makes everything worth it. And I'm finding out how hard it is to do that sometimes, but also how the payoff is always a great one.

Here's to 2008-- and what I hope will be a year of unprecedented love, courage and inspiration-- a year of being easier on myself, and trying to be more gentle in all that I do. And, of course, a year of... productivity!

Happy New Year, ye brave, happy few.

And what a charming gut it is.

Ah, the holidays! I've passed a lovely few days here thus far.






You know what? I thought I wanted to write this right now. But I don't. I want to watch Barton Fink.









-CHET!

God, that's good!

I saw Sweeney Todd last night. It was a big night for me. I've been looking forward to it in a way I've never looked forward to anything before....with the exception of meeting Brian Stokes Mitchell. So there was a lot at stake.

I'm extremely happy to be able to say: I loved it! I had a great time and I thought it was wonderful. So many great details and things from the show as I know it...and a lot of really inventive, creative, beautiful new stuff, too. And the blood-oh, the blood!

The Times gave it a really nice review-- the nicest movie review I've read in a long time, I think. Here's a link.

Flavorpill, on the other hand, turns up the snark dial ten 90 degrees and comes out with this:

Even if you don't care for the self-important saccharine of composer Stephen Sondheim; even if you claim a chemical aversion to the movie-musical genre; even if you profess disdain for the indulgences of director Tim Burton; and even if (and this is the biggest caveat of them all) you experience that rare immunity to the great beauty of Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd cannot be dismissed out of hand. The film adaptation of the now-legendary Broadway production about a barber (Depp) out to avenge his wife and child by, uh, making meat pies out of wrongdoers with his accomplice Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter) is great, oddly not-guilty fun.

– Lisa Rosman

Sorry...do you know who Sondheim is? People call him a lot of things, but I doubt the word "saccharine" has EVER been applied to ANYTHING he's ever written. Lisa Rosman...who are you? Yeah, great.

Anyway....it's wonderful and I really look forward to seeing it again.

NO MORE EMO!

I'm done being emo. It's boring. (I realized I've watched way too many eps of SVU and that I need to chill the fuck out. [Chill the Fuck Out! Remember that party? Was that where the cops threatened us with the paddy wagon?])





Anyway, Thom linked me this really nice article about the All-For-Nots show that Rinnz and I went to earlier this week. Check it out.

I don't want to kiss you, I don't want to touch.

So....I was feeling shitty this morning. Then, all of a sudden, I felt a lot, lot better. I talked about my shitty night to Ava and Katy and Emily and Erin and Nitz and they all really made me feel a lot, lot better. I got really jazzed up about feeling better, and I even made plans to CLEAN MY FRIDGE. Wow.


But now, all of a sudden, I think I feel worse than I have yet. A whole NEW crop of fears has surfaced-- basically, I remembered that I spent a significant part of my night in the bar talking to this Indian man in a bad Scottish dialect. Why? I'm a fucking moron, that's why.

What the hell else did I do? Katie very unhelpfully added "and he was getting touchy" about this guy. Thanks, thanks alot. Thanks for letting me stay in that situation, Katie. Thanks, Anna, for being such an idiot.

I have never hated myself so much. I'm going back to bed.

I know these posts are already old and boring. I know. But I just keep thinking that if I keep talking about this, I'll feel better and get it out of my system. Bad choices, bad choices, bad choices. Why do I make them? God. This kind of shit will NEVER happen to me again, EVER.

I'm trying to let Elvis soothe my worries. He's sort of helping.

great

Well, I've really outdone myself this time.

Last night, I got so completely drunk that I don't remember large chunks of time....ripped my jeans...ruined my coat....and left my purse (wallet, keys, cell phone, purse that I LOVE) in a cab.

Yup.


Now, all I can do is feel bad for myself, cry, feel sick, and not know how to live my life without those few, tiny, relatively insignificant things.

My mom is like "Honey, stop beating yourself up. It could happen to anyone." And I know she's right-- I'm just so upset with myself for drinking so much, and I feel so fucking stupid to have let this happen.


Ugh. This really blows.

The cabbie found my purse and called Katie and told her he had it. Unfortunately, that is all that seems to have happened. I am hoping and wishing that he'll call again.

Sometimes I just don't understand the way I behave.

...when both the talk and people are so nice.

Two links that make me smile today:

#1

and

#2 .

Enjoy them.

also: the best email i've gotten in a long time---

from: justin k. rivers
to: me
subject: silent movie


"anna, if i do a silent movie film noir someday, will you be my heroine sidekick?"

ISADORA DUNCAN!

Maybe I'm losing my mind, but I've heard wind chimes at least four times tonight. I know it's really windy outside, but...it just seemed so strange. When's the last time I can remember hearing them? I don't know.

Nitz, Marie, Michael and I saw Katy in Bread & Puppet's Divine Reality Comedy (Divine Comedy Reality? I don't goddamn know) tonight at Theatre for a New City. The space is an amazing cavern with charmingly ramshackle things everywhere. The show was absolutely insane but we had a good time. Then I went home with them and we ate ice cream and watched "Boggled," one of my all-time favorite eps of Felicity. God, what a girly girly girly combo of things to do. I will always love Noel Crane. And I will always hate Ben Covington.

I had a late lunch in Williamsburg with friend Thom. He thinks I talk a lot. It's nice to know people that live above the poverty line-- if it was up to me, I'd be eating egg salad and falafel for the rest of my life.

Tomorrow, certain essentials need to be taken care of: buying food (I have none), going to the bank to check on all my moneys (I have none), eating a donut at Peter Pan bakery "while I'm on Manhattan Avenue," return my vastly overdue library books (I have two). Later, Rinnz and I are going to the Mercury Lounge to see the All-For-Nots. "Way downtown," as Rinnz says.

The high point of my day might have come after Michael and Marie asked me if I remembered the famous person who was killed when her long scarf got stuck in the wheels of her car. I said it was a dancer and that any other time, I'd have known her name. Of course I couldn't remember it. I left the apartment and then I heard a window open, and Julie yelled 'ANNA! ISADORA DUNCAN!' and it echoed all up and down the street. I don't know why, but I just thought that was wonderful.

He wouldn't want us to give it away.

Ahh! In the New York Times, for all to see, Jesse Green reveals what we've all been thinking:

"FOR months now, in anticipation of the Dec. 21 release of Tim Burton’s “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street,” theater buffs have been worrying themselves sick about what would happen to “their” masterpiece when it was remade as a film. Would it still be alive despite drastic cutting? Would it still sing, despite the casting of stars not known for their voices? Or would commercial pressures and Hollywood habit leave it just another corpse on the heap of butchered theatrical translations?"

I like that in one paragraph he manages to both potentially alienate the "theatre buffs" who consider Sweeney "their" show (sure, "we" think that, but if you say it like *that*, "we" look like snobs, man!) AND hook them. Or at least me. Alright, just me.

But I do love that he chose to use the phrase "worrying themselves sick." And of course, I screamed when I saw the article online. Dear god.

I want to say that right now, Aldo's listening to Bing Crosby crooning "White Christmas" and I'm listening to Sweeney.

Nitz gave me a fabulous book for my birthday called "How I Became Stupid." It's about a guy who's so unhappy being intelligent that he decides becoming stupid will make his life easier. He writes a manifesto and this is part of it that made me laugh:

"Nothing anoys me more than those stories where, at the end, the hero is in the same situation as the beginning but he's gained something. He's taken risks, survived adventures but, in the end, lands back on his feet. I don't want to be a part of that lie: pretending I don't already know how all this will end. I know full well that this journey into stupidity is going to turn into a hymn to intelligence. It will be my own personal little Odyssey-- after my share of trials and dangerous adventures I will end up back in Ithaca. I can already smell the ouzo and the stuffed grape leaves."

Today-- Bread and Puppet with Nitz. Tomorrow-- not working. Excellent.

witrh a lust for saving water....

all i need to say right now is that dean/rachel, greggo/jen, jesse/lauren, aldo/allie and i just had a night of margaritas and subsequent, resultant sacred-harp-on-the-street. (to be fair, allie and jen were innocent bystanders.) we sang ballstown, stratfield, schenectady, detroit, and sherburne in and around union square. some people waiting to get into a club on university taunted us.


i'm sorry--- you're WAITING to get into a CLUB on UNIVERSITY, and you're taunting us?


riiiiiiiiiiiiight.



anyway, it was a lovely night. i am lucky to have such funny friends. more when i'm coherent.



(also....i drink too much? probably.)

Are you talking to me, madam?

Whoaaaaaa......if anyone at all read the post that was here until right now, I apologize. Fluke!


Anyway, guess who I was in a room with tonight?

STEPHEN SONDHEIM.

Yes, that's right. The master himself! I made eye contact with him for a hot millisecond. My gaze said 'I love you,' and his volleyed back 'Why the hell are you staring at me?'

This transpired at the first night of 'kiki baby.' Also in attendance was Dan Winerman and the lovely Farah....we did some catching up. He asked me where all of my classmates are and said 'What the hell are those people doing in Boston?"

I started my job at La MaMa today and it was swell. I got some work done, did some cross-stitch, met some fun people, and hung out with Ava and Matt Nasser for the better part of the day. Life's tough.

Day off tomorrow, kiki in the early evening, hopefully good times with that gang, then I pray to god that I'll get a good night's sleep before I have to go steam clothes on Saturday at 7.30 am.


And here's a nice item about the All-For-Nots, taken from Thom. Check it out.

I just watched His Girl Friday for the first time. Thank you, Netflix. Next will be After the Thin Man...and I have a feeling It Happened One Night might lull me to sleep tonight. Something about witty, beautiful people in black and white is hitting the spot for me right now. It's so stylized and wonderful....and the rat-a-tat of the dialogue is just so appealing to me. I always joke that I could have been a huge success as a movie actress in the late 30s-early 40s--to watch these movies, you'd think none of the quiet, subtle, sensitive stuff (all the stuff that's too hard for me to do) existed in these worlds! I love it. Rosalind Russell strides around looking fabulous and cracking jokes, Cary Grant flutters his fingers and makes weird noises, all the while being vaguely misogynistic...I eat that stuff up. And actually, it's funny that I saw Dan tonight, because he's really into that sort of period stuff, too. We geeked out about Jennifer Jason Leigh in Hudsucked Proxy for like a million hours during Rhinoceros tech. Ah, if only I'd done THAT for showcase....New York theatre would be at my feet! I'd be a star, I tell you! A star!

No.

Goodnight.

introducing...

the all-for-nots!

two good rules:

Thom:
okay, wait. here we go.

first, the rules:

no dictionaries.

Thom:
also, this is not in PLACE of the work i'm/we're supposed to be doing. it's in ADDENDUM to it.




He's talking specifically about Scrabble, but I will henceforth apply that second rule to everything I do....that isn't work.


Also! In my wiki travels tonight (every night a new adventure), I came across this:

boodalam

I always thought Joe Keohane was being a smartass, but apparently not-- Brutalist architecture IS a real thing! Hmmmph!

Seeking out the taciturn.

Excuse me while I tune in the shine of the light-night dial.

Ah, that's better.


So, yesterday was my birthday. I turned twenty-two. It doesn't feel much different than twenty-one....but of course I say that every year. I went out last night to Jimmy's Corner, accompanied by Erin, Jimmy, Mikey, Jess, Andy, Josh and Katy. We had some beers and had a fine time, despite the dismal weather and my waning spirits. The birthday festivities had sort of been going on all weekend- and though I love to party, I was feeling some sort of weird pressure (self-imposed, of course) to have THE MOST FUN EVER and, uh, it was getting me down. Life is hard. Anyway, Rinnz knitted me a great scarf, and Jess and Mikey brought me some imported candy, which will be necessary to get me through the weeks until Christmas.

I got a job at La MaMa today, working in the box office. I start Thursday. It seems that if I can figure out the schedule and all the difficulties related to the schedule, that it'll be a pretty easy and possibly fun and beneficial job. Everyone was really nice today. Seems good.

Tomorrow and the next day, I'm going to be a crunch-time slave for "Kiki Baby," the workshop of a new show by Lonny Price that friends Matt and Isaac are working on. I'll be the John Frattalone, the Kim Ramirez....coffee runs, etc. But I'll get to be in a rehearsal room with Lonny Price! Veanne Cox! Malcolm Gets! etc etc etc.

Alright. Back to work.

A healthy eight hours!

From 5:00 am to 1:00 pm!

It's been a while since I've done that. Ah, youth! Too bad tomorrow it'll all be gone, gone, gone!

Work was very silly yesterday. I met up with Craig at around 8:30 in Times Square, which was a terrible idea but also a good idea, and we just wandered around and chatted. I was so happy to see him. He walked me over to the theatre where I saw....

'Things We Want.' It wasn't great by a long shot but it was good enough that I enjoyed myself and didn't fall asleep...which felt like a very real possibility as soon as I sat down. Paul Dano was really pretty good- he had the most to do, sort of. I don't know-- the play itself wasn't good. Josh Hamilton had to play two diamaetrically opposing parts of the same annoying, completely unbelievable character, and he did so in a way that, uh....made my flesh crawl? I couldn't stand him. I guess it served him as the play wore on, but at that point I was so done watching him that I didn't really care. Peter Dinklage had a fun part and got to do a lot of stumbling around and running into things, which people in the audience kept responding to with "Awwwww!," in a "How CUTE!" way. Iiiiiiiiiiiii don't know about that. And Zoe Kazan....her part sucked so much. It had so much promise in the first act and then all of a sudden fifteen minutes later she's walking around with no pants on and pretending to give Josh Hamilton a blowjob. Whatever.

For me, the frustrating thing is....of course I love to go to the theatre, even if it's bad, usually even if I KNOW it's going to bad. I'd usually rather see even bad theatre than do a lot of other things. And I really believe that and feel that, because I think everything has merit, even if it's just to show me what I have to spend the rest of my days combatting. To be dramatic about it. So I see things like this play-- certainly I'd rather watch that than Cats or those readings I saw the other night-- and I dont' expect everything, or really anything, to be perfect, but-- this play had what I thought were some serious, serious issues. Did everyone responsible for getting this production disagree with me? Because the thought that goes through my mind is-- Well, if they liked this piece of crap, then they'll fucking LOVE *my* play!

Which of course has absolutely no basis in logical fact. But you know? I know in my brain that it's all based on a myruiad of factors which have absolutely no part in my life. But in my not-brain, in my...heart? (what?), I don't know, I just think "What I have to say is so much BETTER than this!"

And maybe that's at the core of everyone who is stupid/ballsy/cocky/generous enough to enter into any sort of artistic pursuit. Who the hell knows. It's 2:00 and I just woke up.

After the show, I made the epic trek to Katy's house in Queens. I don't even know where in Queens I was. All I know was that the directions involved things like 'Okay, now you see those train tracks? Walk over them.' I wrote her address down incorrectly and wound up a few blocks from her house, amidst these dark, creepy, overgrown houses with freaky statuary and/or junk in the yard. I forced myself to have a second wind, and the night wound up being very nice-- the Boston caravan arrived around 2, and Pat and Ollie were there when Craig and Nitz arrived. We did Hannukah, and Pat and I each got a birthday cupcake. Everyone was so beyond exhausted that the punchiness level was sky-high, and almost everything made me laugh literally until I was crying. (THAT's what's on the other side of tiredness, Elaine!) Billy drove us home pretty smoothly. I went to bed at 5!

Today, I'm dedicating most of my day to watching Arrested Development with Meg. Because I can-can-can.

i've been awake for a very long time.

Yes!

So recently I've become addicted to using Google Reader and have been reading a lot of blogs lately. Today's hit is from the good old Guardian. It is of particular interest to me and to this blog...if this blog had thoughts and feelings. Here's part of it:

"In this country we are terrified of appearing pretentious. Somehow it has become theatre's cardinal sin. Be boorish, loutish, crude, superficial, snobbish, elitist or just plain boring, but please, whatever you do, don't be pretentious.

Fuelled by this paranoia, the meaning of the term has been allowed to mutate and expand, its tentacles stretching outwards, moving beyond claims of "exaggerated importance" to encompass anything that might be intellectually or philosophically dense and challenging, or even just not immediately accessible. A quick scan of the responses to Katie Mitchell's Attempts On Her Life finds the production described variously as "pretentious in the extreme", "pretentious rubbish" or, more imaginatively, "pretentious arthouse crap" - a phrase that moves beyond a single production to castigate an entire genre of work. This gets to the heart of the matter, suggesting a lingering distrust (or, indeed, contempt) for the idea that theatre should assume it can be anything other than undiluted entertainment."

That's sort of encouraging, isn't it? At least to pretentious arthouse types like me.

I'm working reception at a law firm in midtown today. I think I drank curdled milk this morning. Then I washed it down with grapefruit juice. This could mean disaster. We'll see.

I saw a show at the Sonnet Rep last night-- a comedy called "Proximity," written by Jerzy Gw------- (I can't attempt to spell his last name), who I met through the MUDasMAN folks and who I saw as Davey in Lt. of Inishmore on B-way. Jerzy wrote one of the four MUDasMAN pieces that I just worked on. He's a nice guy. Isaac Klein and I met up for the show, so it was good to see him. We were supposed to go out for a drink after, but I bailed, and I fear Isaac will never forgive me. I liked the play. It had a ton of great ideas in it, and it was goofy and fun and the acting was good. I like going to small shows, and I like being able to support people my own age who are doing what I hope very soon to be doing.

And tonight-- a big party! I'm seeing "Things We Want" at the Acorn (Peter Dinklage!!), and then heading to somewhere in Queens for a party celebrating my birthday, Pat's birthday, Hannukah, and the fact that Emily and Meghan are coming in from Boston! I have the sick feeling I'll be up very late tonight, but I think it'll be worth it.

All for now.

friends + beer + latkes + music = fun.

also! in the look book this week:

this guy!

the first week i was here, i must have seen him three or four times on the L. the third time, he had chatreuse eyeshadow and spike heels on.


amazing.

Hysterical butterflies.

My GOD, it's fucking cold outside! I almost didn't make it out of bed this morning. I huddled under the covers for at least half an hour after my alarm went off (why was it set so early to begin with?), and then the thought of showering was sickly hilarious, and I could hear my joints screaming as I sat in front of the heater. Oh, god. I don't do well with heat, but....I've never lived in a freezing room before. (Except for the time in high school when my room was so ungodly cold and we couldn't figure out why...until someone realized that the top half of my storm window was slightly open. A family of geniuses.)

Anyway, I'm working today, which is EXCELLENT. I've been going completely nuts for the past few days. I'm worried about work and money, as usual. I hate having to worry about that. I feel like I'm on edge all the time...will I be able to pay rent? Won't I? I volunteered for this lifestyle....but that doesn't mean I have to like it. (Whatever.)

So, Broadway is shuddering back into life after the strike. The shows that were supposed to open are finally opening, and I imagine things'll be back to total normality before long.

The Farnsworth Invention opened last night, and here are some things from the NY Times:

"With billionaire parents now producing bar mitzvah celebrations and sweet-16 parties as if they were major motion pictures, it’s only a matter of time before this spare-no-expense approach is applied to their kids’ school projects. Imagine that Mr. Hedge Fund, with money to burn and many favors to call in, imports a crack combination of writer, director and actors to put across Junior’s oral report with envy-making, A-worthy flair. The resulting effort might well be something like “The Farnsworth Invention,” the new play by Aaron Sorkin that had its strike-delayed opening last night at the Music Box Theater. This information-crammed, surface-skimming biodrama about the creators of television suggests nothing so much as a classroom presentation on a seven-figure budget."

Damn, Ben Brantley! This man can write a zinger like no one else alive today. But you know....I sort of agree. The kind of facile nature of the show was what bugged me the most about it, and I think he's right- that it's more like a report- albeit an earnestly presented one- than a drama.
This is big: "Having made a great success in television, Mr. Sorkin knows its pitfalls and limitations inside out. But it’s hard to avoid the impression that, for all its high-reaching ambitions, “The Farnsworth Invention” often shares the glibness and reductionism of which mainstream television is regularly accused."

Yikes.

The view from the office where I'm working (near Union Square) is amazing. I can't really see it from my desk, of course...but it's beautiful from the bathroom. ;) Much like in CFA! I can see the Williamsburg Bridge, which is kind of fun.

Tonight, I'm going to a Yelp Elite event--- oooooh, so fancy. It's of course turning into more of a headache than something fun...but we'll see what happens. Supposedly, there'll be free drinks. Disaster. After that, there will potentially be latkes and singing at my apartment. I hope. I need something to warm that place up.

Finally, the title of this silly post refers to what was going on at my temp agency this morning-- the funny receptionist who shares a name with one of my good friends (always good for a double-take) was bouncing off the walls about some butterflies that he had ordered online. Excuse me-- some caterpillars. Not butterflies yet. He ordered five for the office and five for his sister/niece in Syracuse (yes!), but was realizing that no one was going to be in the office to receive them, and that they might freeze or something. There was also much discussion of releasing the butterflies into the wild, in order to brighten someone's day....this idea was met with a lot of disapproval from a girl waiting to work, who said "If you let them out...they're going to...end...pretty quickly."

Anyway, I told gchatting friends and friend Thom suggested that the sentence "The receptionist was slightly hysterical about some butterflies he had ordered online" might make a good kick-off for a writing exercise. If only my BUSTI kids had looked at life that way.

To end- Justin Knudsen makes me laugh:

me: and what is this business about crispin glover suing zemeckis? why did he do that?the guy is nuts

Justin: i dont know i kind of what to sue him too though for perpetrating The Polar Express
me: oh god yeah
Justin: did you see it? the hobo looks like tom waits. but its Tom Hanks. and the magic hobo doesnt actually do anything, even though he's the only cool thing about it. my sister rented it and made the family watch it. disaster. a trainwreck, if you will.

C-c-cold.

I left the house today and remembered that it is actually better to go outdoors than to sit at your desk/lay in your bed for over 24 hours.

The most exciting moment of the day, thus far, came during my visit to Sunrise Market on St Marks. I found, completely unexpectedly, my most favorite of all oddball delicacies- COFFEE JELL-O! You thought it didn't exist, right? That is, you thought it didn't exist anymore- not since the days of Jell-o molds at the BRTC softball games and Plymouth Rock brand mixes from the Niskayuna Co-op. But you were wrong! God, it's delicious. It's pre-made, not a mix. And, get this- each individual cup comes with....MILK! Insane. Amazing. I can't believe it. (I know that none of this means anything or makes sense unless you went to high school with me. Just trust that this is an incredible discovery.)

So, Jesse and Carrie have posted what I think is a really fun and cool way to share some of the music that they wrote over the summer on their tour of New York State. Check out this song map and listen to some tunes. (If you're gonna look, go to Schenectady (yellow dot) and listen to "Died, 1825," which is a really charming tune about a mock-funeral that Union College boys held on the opening day of the Erie Canal. I'm singing in the recording but I'm in no way audible. Just pretend you can hear me.)

I think I'm going to a free reading tonight of a new play at The Mint. What? Theatre? What I'm here to do? Yeah right! Didn't I move here to answer phones and watch tv?

Ridiculous.

Sometimes, I think of things I've done in the past, or places I've been, and wish HARD that I was doing that thing or in that place, instead of being where I am or doing what I'm doing at the moment. Right now, I'm thinking about the pond that Julie took us to in Maine this summer. The water was so unbelievably clear and warm, and I just swam for hours and hours. I wish I was doing that right now...in the sun. Oh, how lovely.

let it.

So, I set my alarm rather ambitiously for some time in the 9:30 range- who was I kidding?

Anyway, I had one of those wakeups from a movie at 8:15- my eyes snapped open, I sat bolt upright, and-- SNOW! It's snowing. It looks beautiful. I was mentally unprepared for this. (But I was sort of asking for it. I was reminiscing to myself yesterday about when there is snow on my birthday, and thinking 'Thanks, climate....leaves are still on trees for THIS b-day.' But maybe not.)

Of course the fact that it's snowing relieves me of all duties outside my apartment. I spent most of the day yesterday indoors, and it looks like today's heading there too. Station Agent and cross-stitch, anyone? Please.

Also! This is funny. These pictures came to my attention yesterday. Flashback! My favorite is the one of Slinky with Frankie's question attached-- what's he play? I also like the one of my arm with my tabs written on them....does it make me punk or just lazy that I never bothered actually learning the songs we played?

Elvis...get me through the cold days, buddy.

Edit: Speaking of botling awake, I forgot to relate the charming story of how I awoke at some weird time in the late night/early morning the other day to hear sexual SCREAMS coming from the apartment below me. They're notorious, but this time was beyond. In the words of Paul Simon: Remember- one man's ceiling is another man's floor. (And vice versa.)

PANDER-A DOT COM

I had forgotten how awesome pandora.com is. Product placement. Good.

I went to Union Hall last night with Rinnz to see Meowskers. We caught the last few minutes of Quintus' set, and they were really pretty awesome. They play with Meowskers all the time, but I had never heard them until now. I chatted with the singer after the set...he asked me about theremins (it makes me sound a LOT cooler to leave that statement out of context, so that's just what I'm going to do). Meowskers sounded great. Ben was there. (Ben, do you read this? I think Clam and Thom are my only readers. I'm not worried.) So that was a little awkward. Though we had a nice conversation about the impending release of Sweeney Todd....Ben had good perspective on just how much this movie means to me.

After, I went to Nitzi's and we watched some super old-school Felicity. The pilot is so nineties, it's unbelievable. And of course that means it's so enjoyable.

The Lower East Side sing was PACKED today- at least 30 people! Wonderful. Lots of new faces. Aldo was sick and couldn't go, so I was in charge of setting up the lights and stuff. (Someone asked me if I was a "technician." Why didn't I say yes?) Made me feel important. I had a chance to catch up on a lot of gossip with Lauren, which is always good. We sang "Schenectady," and my standard homesick musings found listeners in the newbies.

I've been reading scripts all night. A lot of what I've been reading takes place in a car...which makes me think about my own car opus, The Civil Wargasm. And I've been thinking about The Civil Wargasm a lot lately, for many reasons-- not the least of which being the fact that I found the perfect guy to play Robert Lee Hodge. He was in the MUDasMAN shows. He just moved to California. But when he's back....oh BOY. I better rewrite the damn thing before then. I gave the script as it is now to this actor and he thought it was funny. Good. Who wants to play Tony?

But this writing thing.... I feel so stupid about it sometimes. I mean, I tell a bajillion people, random people that I meet wherever, that I'm "an actor, yeah...and actor and a writer." And god knows I'm not doing any acting (though Common Thread asked me to be in their new show-- I haven't given them an answer yet), and I don't know when I will....so I always have these dreams that something will just click within me and that I'll be able to drop all the affectations ("Why don't I write on a typewriter? I can only use felt-tip pens!") and actually WORK, work HARD, and just write and get stuff done. And it doesn't matter if it's crap, because as Ed Wood tells us, when you rewrite a script, it just gets better and better...but I have to write the crap first so that then I can make it better. And I have so many ideas, or at least I used to, or at least I think I used to.....but when I sit down at the computer it's all I do to number the pages without giving up on myself.

Ugh.

I just want to listen to Rhapsody in Blue all day.

Of course, I'm never updating this and letting it get totally out of my control. What did I expect?

I'll try to catch up.

The MUDasMAN show went up with almost nary a hitch, and I had a wonderful time. I am so grateful to have met such a funky, interesting, kind, smart, and TALENTED group of people. I really, really hope that I can maintain contact with them...I'd be lucky to work with any of them again. My mom made it to one of the performances of Square, which she liked. I could see her laughing from the booth. As for me, I'm NEVER running lights and/or sound again, unless I'm getting compensated in an amazing way. It's way too stressful. The last night was the best-- Jerzy sat in the booth with me during Lacy, and had his head down on the counter, in the manner of playwrights watching their own work. Then, Will joined me in the booth for Niles, and kept apologizing for being in my space, which he wasn't at all, but the added body in their really made things a million times more stressful....and hot. I almost lost my cool- and my mind- several times. I'm not built for that kind of work.

So, the Local One strikes has been resolved. I'm glad, I guess. I don't think the Grinch should have been forced to open. Though of course I don't know any of the legal ins and outs....I have only the information that my brain provides to my brain. This strike was short enough that it didn't shatter my impression of every strike being ripped straight out of a Clifford Odets play, though the WGA strike, if it continues much longer, will probably do just that. Speaking of which, look who's on CNN.com: look to the right of the huggers. Yes! It's CLAM! Making his mark on Hollywood.

I haven't been working at ALL lately. Therefore, I have been earning no money. I spend my time, instead, sleeping, going to yoga, going to lunch with my friends who are also not working, watching television and movies, and of course....drinking. I mean, come on. I had a very nice dinner with Thom the other night to talk about the work I'm supposed to be doing for him. Of course, because I am the queen of derailing conversations, it wound up being more about supernatural experiences and Freaks and Geeks than bands and scripts. But it was a lot of fun.

I saw my old boyfriend, Sondre, at the Bowery Ballroom and he was lovely and amazing, as usual. My heart broke over and over realizing anew that I probably will never realize my dream of marrying him...but I guess that's a heartbreak I can learn to live with.

Today....work inside. Clean the apartment. Then, Meowskers. Good.

To be elaborated upon later...

Yesterday there was a union meeting next to our rehearsal. I went to the vending machines and the door to their room flew open. In it, there were 75 women standing up and yelling 'STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!'

I. KID. YOU. NOT.

Bahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Stormbirds of the working class?

Here is a rather strange article from the NY Times about the WGA strike...and sort of the Local One strike. I have lots more to write about these strikes, but it'll have to wait. Tech starts tomorrow (load-in was today, pretty calm except for a fraught moment when I slithered through a window [serpentine me--like a snake that's eaten a rabbit] into the booth instead of getting someone to unlock it. This caused our lighting designer to get yelled at. Eek.) ...so I'll be busy. But I'll catch up soon. I can't, after all, keep my ravenous public at bay too much longer.

STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! redux

Stormbirds come to Broadway...

Well, at least Jenni will still be working. And at least Young Frankenstein isn't getting shut down. That would add insult to injury.

As much as I support labor unions in general and their right to strike, I do hope that this shutdown doesn't cause a lot of show closings. My heart breaks to think of the people involved who might get totally fucked over because of this. The WGA strike is different, in that the losses for actors (obviously who I care about the most, being that I am self-involved) are less immediate. (Except in the case of soaps....but those actors have enough job security that they won't get let go during the interim.)

I wonder how long it will last. I know this has been a possibility for a long while now, but I wonder if it's sort of a solidarity (forever!) thing with the screenwriters. Hmm.

We'll see.

ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME?!

Keanu Reeves and Jennifer Connelly to star in remake of 50s classic THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL.

The earth is standing still right NOW, as far as I'm concerned! Good lord. Is nothing sacred?!

Walk this way!

So, a few different things of interest this morning. I'm writing to you from a cushy (knock wood) receptionist job somewhere on Sixth Avenue. There's a big impressive fountain in the plaza out front, and the building is a bajillion stories high....but I'm on the fourth floor and consuquently it looks like eternal evening in here. Thanks, skyscrapers. (This is not necessarily one of the items of interest. There are as follows....)

1) YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN GETS SLAMMED! Okay, not slammed, but...it's far, far from a rave in the NY Times. I don't know why, and I didn't even realize this until I read the review last night, but I sort of *wanted* this show to not be good. I mean, I did. The ticket price thing, the fact that I love the movie SO much and think it is perfect, the fact that I really like Mel Brooks but think maybe this movie-to-musical thing has gone on long enough... All of that. Plus, I hate Megan Mullally. Come on. Here are some highlights from the NY Times...starting with the headline:

"Who Put the Trance in Transylvania?"

Bahhhhhhhhhhhh! Ok. Also:

"It also surely has...the largest percentage of gags per scene. Some of those gags, many of which are lifted from the movie, are pretty funny. (O.K., let's be honest: I laughed exactly three times.) There are some enjoyable musical routines. (All right, my count is 2 out of nearly 20.)"

Damn, Ben Brantley. You know how to wound.

Here, from the post, is a seriously stupid sentence:

"It also has a great comic lead in Roger Bart as that virginal Dr. Fronkensteen being transported to the dark side of the moon."

"Great"? We're talking about a guy who is playing a part the TRULY great Gene Wilder originated. Let's not get overly-lovey, please. And virginal? And that spelling? I just don't get it.

Whooo....I was on a major roll of pretension there, but I checked myself before it could get truly bone-crushing. Next time, I'll just let it go.

Also, this: "Well, I understand from the press release that "$25 orchestra seats will be available at most performances." At that price the show would be a bargain, even if the seats are in the orchestra pit. You would even have money left over for a soda during intermission." Really? I mean...I'll go for $25 bucks.

2) So, last week, I worked at an ad agency. One of the guys that also worked there (real job, though, unlike me) is the writer and producer of a cool internet show called The 'Burg, which pokes fun at those loveable hipsters residing in...my neighborhood. Check it out: http://www.theburg.tv If you like dogs, watch the 2nd ep, "myspace." There is a funny funny gag involving a pug.

3) I'm currently stage managing a show! I am a very bad stage manager, take no initiative, and mostly spend my time eating while being on book, which is always a recipe for disaster. It's actually two different shows that go in rep- each show being made of two pieces. One evening is called Circle (it's in the round), and the other is Square (you can guess), and it's a mix of new short plays and collaboratively-created pieces. The people are nice and it's good to be doing something, even if I am a zombie most of the time. On the off chance that a) anyone is reading this mess, and b) said theoretical person should want to come see the show, go to http://www.smarttix.com and search for "mud as man" and it should come up. Or just ask me about it.

Sayonara for now.

It's a numbers game.

Really? Because I'd probably subsitute "stupid" or "fucking absurd" for "numbers."

This place is getting to me, and I have to let it not. It's Friday and I'm exhausted and still sick so anything that isn't great is probably going to ruffle me a little bit. This morning, I received (second-hand) a "complaint" because someone who I'll call N told my supervisor that my "head was down" when she walked by the reception desk yesterday. What? I can think of any number of reasons why my head would have been less-than-erect. Probably because it was too laden down with murderous thoughts and destructive ideas! Bwa ha ha! Really, though-- WHO FUCKING COMPLAINS ABOUT A TEMP RECEPTIONIST?! My whole thing here has been to not let 'em get to me, not let 'em get to me. And after a week and a half...my resolve is fading a little.

My co-reception zog, Matt, said that maybe I'll be asked to come back next week. Yesterday, that sounded like a great idea. Today...not so great.

I'm so worried about money.


Okay, I have to stop writing this because I feel the panicky tears welling in my puffy, under-rested eyes and I'd like to quit while I'm ahead.....after all, I've got 8 more hours to be here today. And all I have for lunch is cereal. I think a more appropriate title for this post would be "A coffe and a java all day."


Ok-- A few hours later, I've calmed down and am editing this. I'm not supposed to use this blog for personal ranting- that's what my ancient, creaking Xanga is for. I'm supposed to use this for pretentious discussions.

So-- here's some snark, fresh and hot off the griddle of The New York Times:

"I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness,” pants the tortured title character in one of many a palpitating passage in Mary Shelley’s gothic novel “Frankenstein.”
After passing a similar night, courtesy of the new musical version of Shelley’s tale that opened last night at 37 Arts, I can only say, “Victor, buddy, I know where you’re coming from.”

Is that great, or what? Hot damn. What if you got a review like that? Jesus. I'd never read the NYT again.

This is Halloween

So, I ventured to the Village Halloween Parade last night. I knew a bunch of people going, but I couldn't seem to meet up with any of them-- probably because it was UTTER INSANITY on the streets.

I waited almost an hour for it to begin, and I was getting annoyed, but it was pretty work it. There were some beautiful large-scale puppets in the beginning-- skeletons that were operated from backpack-type apparatus', a GIANT skeleton that cast the coolest shadow on the buildings around it, shoes with wings that would run in place, and a whole group of appliances with wings that lit up- clocks, lightbulbs, and toasters! They were obviously my favorite.

Bands were few and far between, and most of them were a combination of a bass drum and 4-5 doleful-sounding horns. Which was fine with me...I love that crap. There weren't a ton ton of floats either....the one that sent me over the edge (in a good AND bad way) was a big flatbed that had a huge cage in the middle, a bunch of gears in front of it, and a huge armchair in the back. In the cage were lots of girls dressed up in sort of sexy zombie outfits, grinding and zombie-dancing, grimly, to a recording of Doris Day singing Que Sera Sera. I just don't know. I just don't know. I got to see the much talked-about zombie "Thriller" dance group, and they were pretty awesome. Lots of people on stilts....which I could sort of do without.

And the costumes! In the "Sexy" category, my award goes to "Sexy Fridge." A duo did an improvement on my Psycho costume by actually having a shower...I was impressed. I saw a Hester Prynne with a giant A on her chest, which made me laugh. There were about 45 dick-in-box guys, every sort of slut imaginable, a Santa Claus (which struck me as odd), drag queens of all shapes, colors, sizes, and costumes....and....A SWEENEY TODD! But his costume choices obviously had taken a cue from the movie trailers, and as a purist, I sort of turn my nose up at that. Plus he had no Mrs. Lovett....though he had a wicked-lookign razor.

It was fun...but to go again I'd either have to be drunk and with friends, or be in it. And I don't know which I'd rather do. Aie.

Then I went home and watched 4/5ths of the original Omen. I was initially disappointed because the Netflix sleeve promised me that there was going to be a hari-kiri death....but there just isn't! Unless they're using it in a super-broad sense to mean 'suicide.' I don't know. Netflix....setting me up for disappointment. But it's great and scary enough that I couldn't manage to get out of bed to turn the light off in the other room before falling asleep. And Gregory Peck is dreamy.

Today and then one more day of work here....though I need the money, I will not pretend to be too sad. I think I'll give myself Monday off, maybe, and then start working immediately, if I can. I am tired.

The Big Shakeup

Exciting news today-- new candy at work! 100 Grand, Oh Henry!, Raisinets, Goobers.....lots more to stuff my gaping maw with. Will the joy never end?

I am in a state of agitated confusion. I have the opportunity to stage manage a group of four shows that run for a weekend in November. Other things I have to do in November are: see Tasia's show in Boston, and hopefully go to the Berkshire foothills all-day singing. I also have to make a living. This is the hardest part.

If I decide to work on the shows, my schedule will get very very very tight and I'll probably have to race around like a lunatic for two and a half weeks. I'll probably be cranky and tired all the time. But I will also probably meet some awesome people (they already seem super cool) that could be possible collaborators. And don't I always try to believe that if I wait until I'm ready, I'll never do anything?

I guess the solution is maybe to cut down a little on everything. Like, I could maybe not go away to sing....even though I really want to. I NEED to see Tasia's show-- it isn't an option. I would feel so bad if I didn't, AND I really want to.


I don't know. No matter what I do, I'm not going to get to do all the things I want to do, AND I'm not going to make as much money as I want to make. So if I accept that now, shouldn't it be okay?

To close....dictionary.com's word of the day is awesome today:

ensorcell \en-SOR-suhl\, transitive verb: To enchant; to bewitch.

Free man in the morning!

Someone just called Euro fomr a 518 area code, and I tried to chat them up, but they were calling for someone allegedly named Buffy, and I couldn't help them...didn't go as well as I hoped it would.


Well! What's new? This weekend was both eventful and lazy, which I guess is an ideal combination. I watched several movies, and I will now pretentiously rant about them.


A FACE IN THE CROWD- totally awesome movie where Andy Griffith plays a drifter who skyrockets to fame as a folky musician/public figure/all around mess. Elia Kazan directed it and it is CRAZY. Andy Griffith is amazing in it....his singing is off the hook. Yes. Off the hook. Justin just told me that in the last scene, where Andy Griffith's character is drunk and a mess, that he was really drunk-- Kazan kept feeding him liquor and "berating him" until he got crazy. Ugh!


MY BLUE HEAVEN- the first time I saw this movie was sophomore year, and a whole bunch of us were persuaded by Craig "Con Man" Mungavin to watch it instead of writing some paper that was due the next day. Of course we did, at Glenville...it remains a fond memory. The movie stood the test of time, too-and in some parts was even funnier than I remembered. Specifically....the dance number and Bill Irwin's dance solo. Jared has his phone number. All I'm gonna say.


I went to Katie Tynes' birthday/Halloween party. I dressed as Ed Wood. I had black pants, a white angora sweater, a beret, I made my hair look greasy and sort-of manly, and an eyeliner mustache/stubble. And lots of 'I am tired and world-weary' eye makeup. On the way home, I was waiting for the subway and there was a trio by me noshing on curly fries. They were punked out, though not for Halloween. The girl was ranting "I've seen so many stupid girls....like, slutty nurse! Slutty cop! Slutty waitress! Slutty whatever! I mean, what do we have over there? Slutty pseudo-Frenchman?" Looking at me. Always ready to fight, I said 'What?' She says: "Am I right? Frenchmen? Existentialism?" And I say, with my characteristic panache and wit....."I'm Ed Wood. I'm not Slutty Anything." Her drunk friend goes "What? Ed Wood? YEAHHHHH!" and high-fives me. Take THAT, bitch!


I drank too much, of course, and drunk-dialed Steven Fazio on the walk home. He called me back yesterday and left me a message. This is the highlight:
"It's three o'clock already. You're not THAT hungover. Get up, answer your phone. I'll make you pancakes. That is a LIE. But only because of logistics."

Yesterday, Aldo, Jesse, and I ventured to the pretty Montclair New Jersey to sing. Continuing the trend of me singing parts that I don't usually sing, I accompanied a newcomer on treble for all but a few songs. It was more fun than alto, because the parts made a lot more intuitive sense to me. Also because I was in a better mood. We took a bus to and from the Garden State, and the three of us sat in the back and were very, very silly the whole time. Good fun.

And now I'm at work. I'm tired, though I went to bed at like ten last night. I am sort of sick, which sucks....especially since I don't really understand my health care situation right now. Meaning, I don't really have insurance....I don't think? I don't know? Awesome.

Time to make the donuts.

Fuck these people. Some of them.

I'm sorry to be so crude, but...I am beginning, after a week of doing this, to understand what maybe a big problem about temping could potentially be for me. And that is-- that these people, or the majority of them, think what they are doing is SUPER IMPORTANT. And in one way, that's good- because it's their job and they should think that they're doing something important.  But when I get yelled at for transferring a call to some bigwig, unknowingly, and people say inhushed tones to me "You really have to  be careful-- he's the *CCO*. You really can't do that again" and look all reverent, I want to say "WHO GIVES A FUCK?"

 

Yesterday, a guy came to see someone. I called Mr. B, the person he was here to see. Mr. B snapped at me "You need to call my assistant." I did.

 

Today, the same guy came and again asked to see Mr. B. The same thing happened, althought this time the snap was meaner. 

 

I just want to ask him-- "Sir, what are you gaining by being mean to me?" Also, "What makes you so important that you can yell at me?" These people advertise sunscreen. Give me a fucking break.  Why do they think that any of this matters?

 

People also get mad when  they want me to swipe them into the offices and I won't do it. I. Am. Not. Allowed. To. Do. That. I say. Or, if they ask "Do you have a card?," right off the bat I just say 'No,  no, I do  not." And then they get pissed.

 

I think there's a simple soultion-- remember your ID. Aren't you a grownup?

 

Anyway....

 

Sad news today in the Ny Times-- Tom Murphy, a Irish actor who won a Tony for Beauty Queen of Leenane in 1998, died a week or two ago from Hodgkin's. He was only 39.  I remember very vividly watching him get his award. Such a shame.

When Will I See These Movies?

Eastern Promises

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Gone Baby Gone

Dan in Real Life (hello, Sondre Lerche soundtrack?!)

Lust, Caution

 

Apparently I met this guy today.

http://www.njs4ever.com/uptown.html

Quuuuuuiiiick conclusions often lead the best of us astray;
The wisest move in life is just to wait!
Otherwise your galloping emotions run away
Like horses at the gate!

The above lyrics from The Mystery of Edwin Drood won’t stop repeating in my brain. Hmm.

So, what’s new today? I’m back on reception at the same place I was yesterday. A lot is going on. A lot I can’t talk about. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel. No, really—I don’t know how I feel about writing stuff about work in here until I maybe figure out some more privacy settings or something. I know you’re waiting with bated breath.

Last night, I went to see ‘The Farnsworth Invention,’ because Jess works for the producers and had a bunch of comps. I sat with Mikey and Jess in the mezz- beautiful seats that would probably cost around eighty dollars. Good lord. It’s a new play—I think it was workshopped at least at La Jolla before coming here. It’s by Aaron Sorkin, Mr. West Wing, and stars Hank Azaria. Let me say first off that Hank Azaria sounded like Moe from the Simpsons the whole time. I’m aware of the fact that he does Moe’s voice. It was funny.

The play is about two guys—Philo T. Farnsworth and David Sarnoff, who are each crucial in the invention, development and explosion of the television and radio, respectively. It starts out with Sarnoff talking right to us, narrating about Farnsworth’s life. And then Farnsworth does the same for Sarnoff—and we see them bounce back and forth, each telling the other’s story, until finally they converge…in reality and fantasy.

I was disappointed at the conventional tack the show took after the beginning moments. The narrative device returned time and time again, but it framed really standard, we’re-doing-a-scene now….made “edgier” by sharp transitions accompanied by drastic light switches and a really far-ranging use of the enormous stage. The cast was ABSOLUTELY HUGE, and I really think that the play could benefit from a downsizing—this is just my snotty, uninformed opinion. For example—there were all these characters that we see once and then never again. I like when there are a million characters and I like it when an actor plays a ton of them, but there were so many actors that the effect was totally, in my mind, diminished. At curtain call, I said to Jess “I feel like I didn’t even see half of those people during the show.”

Also, the interplay between fantasy and reality wasn’t explored enough for my tastes. Farnsworth and Sarnoff have a meeting in the last scene of the play that Sarnoff tells us (after the fact) never really happened—I was into that. I wanted more stuff like that to be going on—the whole thing felt like a two-pronged biopic resisting the urge to be a riff on the possibly-connected lives of guys. I wish it had been the other way around—I wish I had been left craving MORE facts. As it was, the facts flew so thick and fast that half the time, I couldn’t even absorb them. But what was I expecting? I never watched The West Wing, but I know how he operates. That sneaky devil.
Hank Azaria, Moe-aside, was good, Jimmi Simpson as Farnswroth was super. Blanketly, the women kind of sucked. I don’t know why. The costumes were lavish, the set was utilitarian (though a little dangerous-looking sometimes). Michael Mulheren was in it, playing a judge at one point (which is funny because he sometimes plays a judge on L&O), and playing Ernst Alexanderson at one point (the word Schenectady happened TWICE in the show!!). Jim Ortlieb, who had a recurring role as Ben’s mean science prof on Felicity, was also in the show. I like him a lot.

All in all, it was an up-and-down thing. I had a nice time, but it wasn’t great. And I’m an expert, so you should listen to me. It was a great TIME, and the theatre is beautiful. I’ll be interested to see what the “real” reviewers think.

Also, Joanna Gleason was there. So that was cool.

Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam!

From Hotel Cassiopeia:
JOSEPH [sitting at a cafe table]There are days that I will have
a few donuts
a caramel pudding
two cups of Dutch process cocoa all milk, white bread,
peanut butter and peach jam
a Milky Way candy bar
some chocolate eclairs
a half-dozen icing cakes from Bay West
a peach pie (6 cents)
and a prune twist
and, on other days:
cottage cheese, toast,
bologna, jello,
fresh baked shortcake with creamy chocolate icing
Kool Aidbrownies and cherry Coke
a cinnamon donut
homemade coffee cake
the pink centers of Huntley and Palmer shortcake cookies
pancakes

It's no coincidence that some of my favorite passages from this play and bobrauschenbergamerica are all about food. Or that I'm writing this as my stomach grumbles! I'm working reception at a global ad agency right now. Which means there are some foreign hotties walking around.

In the pretentious update....hmmm. What do I have? Ah, yes-- I just got finished with my duties as production assisstant for the Common Thread Theatre Company's workshop production of Moving Shortly. The show ran for three performances, two of which were completely sold-out, which was fun. A whole bunch of friends came: Katy, Emma, Molly (and here's a SHOUT OUT!), Jade, Juls, Lee, Ava, Duke, Liz...punch me if I'm forgetting anyone. The show went quite well, from a technical/production view-- which is the vew that I, as a bona-fide techie, had for it. Michael and I worked sound/projection and lights, respectively. I haven't really touched a light board since the days of the BRTC, when I ran A Lesson Before Dying. I remember it being very stressful, though that could have had somtehing to do with the fact that cast members were dropping out left and right ALL. THE. TIME. Anyway... There were lots of silly antics in the booth, and Michael and I had a good time. There were lots of stupid scrawlings all over the walls- Michael and I added our own contribution: one of those twist-things that everyone used to draw in middle school, accompanied by "'95!' next to it. We were proud.

This is another line I really loved when I saw the show:

Then Balanchine revived The Somnambulist for me
and in that ballethe always had me exit backwards
because you know
well
because I didn't need to see a doorwayto go through it.

I thought it was VERY Judith Chaffee.

I'm going to see The Farnsworth Invention tonight-- it's a play by Aaron Sorkin, starring Hank Azaria. Jess is working for the producers, so she had a bunch of free ticket opportunities during previews. I'm psyched.

Here is a post that I meant to do the other day, but I'll tack it on here and elaborate:

In weird New York City coincidences part 1,586—

I ran into Rebecca McHugh the other night as I was leaving the Bedford stop. I was walking behind this girl and I thought 'She is so put together. Why can't I dress like that?' and then I realized that it was her. I stopped her and we walked out together—she lives two blocks away from me. Strange, isn't it? Then, yesterday, I saw Meghan Dalton's brother Tim in a coffee shop right near my house. We had a big case of mistaken identities when I tried to talk to him that we eventually cleared up....funny funny.

Michael and Nitz and I watched innings 4-9 of the baseball game the other night. We leapt for joy when Youkilis hit that homer. Matt Rudnicki was in the same bar as us, randomly, and we took a lot of pleasure in watching him from afar as he and some girl drank copious amounts of beer and occasionally flashed us the high-sign. Good fun.

Also, speaking of baseball AND coincidences—at work the other day, I was transcribing some phone calls and in one, a guy was talking about eh revitalization of downtowns. He mentioned two cities, and two cities only: Boston and Denver. Oooooooooh!

There is too much glass in this office. Everyone can see that I'm surfing the internet. Oh, dear.....

Looking for a Sparking

So, the past two nights have been taken up (pleasantly) by two events at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Two nights ago, I saw Charles Mee and Anne Bogart speak, and last night I went to see their latest collaboration, a play called Hotel Cassiopeia.

The talk was interesting, but too short-- less than an hour! Maybe I'm only mad because I had to pay for it. The q+a was mercifully truncated, at least. Man, I hate q+as!

Charles Mee was wearing red suspenders. I had seen him once before, the summer after freshman year, when Erin and I went to Skidmore to see Craig's presentation thing at the SITI training program. Craig pointed C. Mee out to me but at the time I didn't particularly know who he was....just that he had had polio and was on crutches. (This is also the time that I witnessed Anne Bogart give Craig a hug.) Anyway, he sort of looks like Abraham Lincoln, which of course makes me love him right off the bat. He seems a little taciturn, or, I don't know, maybe he was nervous---it was opening--but he was less sort of friendly (whatever that means) than Anne Bogart struck me as being. And I definitely would have thought that it would be the opposite!

Anne Bogart opened things up with a funny story about marrying Charles Mee and his wife, Michi-- A.B. performed the ceremony, in a Chinese restaurant, in Queens. She apparently told them to do some sort of physical thing, and they did it wrong, and she was terrified that if "they didn't do the right ritual, they wouldn't be married!" They got married, of course.

I took a bunch of notes and had the pipe dream of assembling them in a readable fashion in here....but now I don't think I'm going to.

So, last night, the show. First of all, I have never been to the Harvey Theatre, and it is CRAZY. I was in the super cheap seats, which are sort of like bar stools with backs on them....really, really, really mightily uncomfortable. I was sitting next to a nice girl who was knitting before the show, and next to her was a crazy lady who asked her "Are you planning on doing *that* during the performance?" I hope someday that lady sits next to Eve at a show and asks HER that questions. But the theatre itself it so strange-- it looks all run-down, but a lot of it must have just been made to look that way. Which I have nothing against. It looks beautiful. The stage extends all the way out to the floor, so people in the front row were sort of on stage. And vice versa, I guess. My seat was one row from back, but the balcony (excuse me, gallery) was so raked that I could see everything just fine. It was the same kind of steep as the place in London where I saw some ballet and I kept fantasizing about how if I took a running leap from the last row, I could jump over the balcony edge so easily. Scary.

Ellen Lauren, who Judith talked about every day in Suzuki, was in the show. This was great for me, because I didn't get to see her in bobrauschenbergamerica. She really is beautiful-- and her neck is just as long as Judith said it was! She played a ballerina, and Lauren Bacall. This is off-topic. Somewhat.

But there were a lot of SITI people that I HAD seenn in b.r.a-- the bum, the dork, the trucker, of course the eternally hot Akiko--and they are all so awesome. They are all in amazing shape, first of all-- and though they all do look good, that's not even what I mean-- they are just solid muscle, and so, so controlled. There wasn't a single misstep, no faltering movements, no stumbles! There was a part where the man playing Joseph Cornell had to attach a bunch of wires to various objects-- a barre, a chair, a tree. And he was sort of controlling the descent of the wires by waving his hands at them. And then he oh-so-calmly attached the wires, while doing other stuff, while other people were doing other stuff...and I thought about the moment when I was in Rhinoceros and I had to latch part of the wall to part of the floor. And how it literally made me break down once because I found it so stressful. It appears to me that in the SITI company, there is none of that stress. It is all ease. And I guess that all makes sense if I think about it, because the whole central tenet of Suzuki as I understand it personally is experiencing rigor so that we can then experience ease. Or choose to feel rigor so that we then know what that is like, and can then look for ease. There was no ease in what I did. There was no rigor in what they did.

As usual, the text was funny and fragmented...with little exhanges that then later came back in different forms....lots and lots of repetition. Some characters who drifted in and out- a waitress, a girl on a bike, two love interests, Joseph's mom and brother, Lauren Bacall....

And when it was over, I didn't want it to be over. It was not at all a linear story-- I didn't learn as much about Joseph Cornell as I thought maybe I would, and I was totally okay with there. There was so much other stuff going on, and somehow, although I'm not quite sure I know how, it all was part and parcel, thematically, of what he and his work were about, and were trying to explore, or were trying to create or compensate for.

In the talk the night before, Anne Bogart talked about how Cornell wrote about "looking for sparkings," which were moments where everything was just right. She talked about how that was the driving narrative, in a way, of the piece.

Oh, crap, I have to go.

Things Coming Up (Most of Which I am Vastly Underqualified or Unprepared For):

-an interview for a position as counterperson/sandwich-maker at a cafe located inside some sort of Scandinavian Cutlural Center (underqualified)
-an interview at a high-power temp agency that demands real skills from the people who work there (underqualified and unprepared)
-an interview with an allegedly sexist (but in my favor!) temp agency (unprepared)
-a trip to BAM to hear Anne Bogart and Charles Mee speak (unprepared)

Plus, I submitted an application to Trader Joe's and underwent a "screening" today. If they want me, they'll call within two weeks.

Meanwhile, my new friend Rachel told me how to make a living as a nude artist's model at colleges. Um...where do I sign up?

Dark and Dreary.

अप्परेंत्ल्य, ई ऍम टैपिंग इन हिंदी।

That says "Apparently, I am typing in Hindi." I added some Hindi transliteration tool to my profile and it took over. Cool.

It's grey, grey, grey outside and still sort of humid. Gross. I'm watching The Today Show but other than that it could be like 6:00, I have no idea. (At night, I mean.)

Alright. So, I signed up for a free trial of Netflix. My parents get a free DVD added on to their plan or something if I get referred by them, so I did and I signed up. Also, my trial lasts for a month as opposed to the normal free trial which is for two weeks. The idea is that I'll cancel before it's over, but actually....can I afford nine dollars a month to watch movies? I think I can. First on the queue is The Twlight Zone, disc 1. And then The Purple Rose of Cairo. I can't wait.

I got an application for Trader Joe's yesterday. The guy who gave it to me was very friendly. It was SUPER busy when I went in and I was watching the workers zipping around, and I thought "Yeah, I could do this." The application was a little daunting- lots of talk of shifts at 5:00am and until 2:00am (I said I could do those. What am I, insane? No, I just want them to hire me.) Also, there was a ridiculous "Math Test." It didn't tell me to show my work. I didn't. Mr. Gill would NOT be proud.

I've already seen a few people on the Subway a few times, and get the feeling that they'll be those people that you (I) see regularly on the train. Interestingly enough, all three of them are guys who at at least one of the times I've seen them, have been dressed at least partially in women's clothing. Nice. And they weren't all together. I prefer drag queens/trans-whatever to hipsters any day, thank you!

I also saw, last night on the L, a really, really cute guy reading Timequake. Be still, my heart. I like to look at everyone and pretend that maybe we'll actually get to know each other some day. He had a notebook (a la J. Rich) and after a while wrote (yeah, I looked, what?): 'Like most things, it sort of depends on....' and then I exited the train. Ooooooooh.

2 whiskey sours'll do it.

Free drinks= delicious.
Possible free train rides home=elusive yet intriguing.
Tara=awesome.

Also, I love my friends that are here, but I miss my friends that aren't here so, so, SO much. So much. If there's any doubt in your mind that I miss you...assuage it now. I love you and miss you. That goes for everyone.

Alright. Clearly, I've had too much to drink and shall now go to bed.

To close:
'MOM'S STILL GOT IT!'

EXCITEMENT!

I just got a call on my cell phone from an organization whose initials I don't want to include in this post in case they are monitoring me. They might be. I mean, if they are, they'll see this anyway, so what does it matter if I write it or not? All I'll say is-- I used to want to work for them when I was little, AND Mulder and Scully are two of their most famous employees.

Apparently my name (sort of) is connected (sort of) to a hoax terrorism plot in Boston. Some guy said he brought plastic explosives into Boston and sublet an apartment from a BU student named Heinrich who lived at 610 Beacon Hill. Now, of course, I was a BU student named Hendrick who lived and 610 Beacon Street, so...I guess I'm the closest thing they had to a 'lead.' Isn't that insane?

The agent knew a lot about me- obviously my phone number, but my house phone too, and my address. It was a little scary. But also sort of funny. The guy was very jovial and joked that if they ever catch this guy, he'll be prosecuted and there's a tiny chance I would "receive and all-expense paid trip to wherever that trial is!" Yeah, awesome. I guess it would be SORT of awesome. Anyway, his last name was the last name of a famous gangster and I had to laugh. It just plays into the overblown James Ellroy stereotype that I have in my brain of the people who work for this agency.

Never Forgive. Never Forget. (Plus stamps.)

So, something of GREAT importance has been brought to my attention. And that something is...The Sweeney Todd Trailer! (AHHH!) I awoke to find that multiple good friends had posted a link on my facebook wall. They knew.

I watched it, and even though the quality was sort of crappy and I couldn't really hear that much (thanks, computer, thanks, construction), I got super excited. I just can't wait. Liam and Meghan and I have talked a lot about the jealousy/protectiveness/I-liked-it-first feelings that are more than likely to surface around the time of the movie's release. And I know it'll happen, just like when Rufus started getting really popular, and I felt like I had some ownership over him. Or, like, how I feel compelled to say that Seth Rogen was always my favorite on Undeclared, which in my mind somehow means that I like him more or that I am cooler than you because you just like Knocked Up. (Which is stupid because I didn't even watch Freaks and Geeks until after Undeclared was already off the air, so I can't actually say shit! He WAS my favorite, but, please. Come on.)

Meghan said that when we go we'll be like Kristen Wiig's Penelope character on SNL, just walking around the movie theatre saying things like "I guess all I have to say is I wrote Sweeney Todd, it's not a big deal, I wrote the music and the lyrics...I'm in it too, I play Sweeney Todd....um, Sweeney Todd was my real dad, this is actually about me and my family..."Things like that.

Here's the trailer for anyone who wants to think for themselves.

Another interesting item for today is that Mauritius has opened on Broadway. Theresa Rebeck is the only female playwright with a new play on Broadway this season. Isn't that terrible? I think that's just insane. The NY Times review was mostly nice, I guess, though it said that the formula was a little tired and that her characters have almost all been written before, and in most cases, have been written better before. There are a lot of comparisons to David Mamet and specifically American Buffalo, which happened when the play was at the Hunt in Boston. Honestly, I don't remember a lot of my specific opinions about the show. (I mostly remember how Tasia and Craig and I were in the balcony of the Wimberly and it was freezing up there...and how on the way, we got to go into the weird church in Copley Sqaure and listened to some men singing with high voices...until the church Nazi intimidated us into leaving.)

Anyway, Alison Pill is in the show here, and man, do I envy her. This, and before this, she was in Blackbird, which everyone blew up about though I think it's one of the stupidest plays I've ever seen, and before that Lieutenant of Inishmore (at which she frowned at curtain call, so I'll always have a little bit of a grudge against her), and she's also got a big old movie with Steve Carrell coming out (Sondre did the soundtrack!)....and she's oh, um, I think, 22 years old. Must be nice.

I liked this part of the NYT review: "Mr. Baker and Mr. Abraham never quite dispel the impression that you have met more vividly drawn versions of their characters before. Mr. Abraham appears to be doing a mild variation on Ben Kingsley’s attention-getting portrait of a sadistic crime boss in the movie “Sexy Beast.” Aiie! Here's the review.

That's all the pretentious reportage (bahhh) I can handle this morning.

So.

So. I am here.

And I got a job!

Oh. Wait. A non-paying job.

But hey....it's good. I'm going to be one of two production assistants on the Common Thread Theatre Co.'s workshop production of 'Moving Shortly.' The first rehearsal was last night-- in a Theatre Row rehearsal studio. I felt like a Broadway star! Though I guess it's really no big deal.

This isn't really pretentious (also, who the hell is reading this? No one.), but I wanted to record it:
On my first day here, I ran into Duke and Liz.
On my second day here, I ran into my cousin Leah, Lisa Kron, and Baron Vaughn.
I didn't run into anyone yesterday, though I did see Nitz, Juls, and Michael.
And today I'll see Katy. There are a lot of people who live here.

I am feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, but I guess that's to be expected. I feel a ton of pressure about getting a job, starting to make money-- I'm already terrified that I won't be able to pay the rent. I know that isn't true, and I know that it's completely unrealistic to expect to have a job or any job prospects at all my first four days here, but...it's daunting.

NEW HIGHS OF PRETENSION!

The name of this blog was inspired by a quote from the one and only Matt Collier, about four years ago. I had a pretentious away message. What can I say?

Anyway...as if I don't have enough going on in terms of time-wasters (of the online variety), I thought I'd make a new blog...in which I can say pretentious things about the pretentious activities I partake in! Awesome, right?

I'm moving to Brooklyn on Monday. Williamsburg, to be specific. I'm moving in with a friend, which is exciting, his cat, which is exciting, and a million hipsters. Well, not really. I'm moving AMONG a million hipsters.

First pretentious thing on the docket isn't for about a week- so I'll have to invent some to have something to write about.