I went out for coffee this morning a few blocks from my apt., to a place I've been a handful of times before. It's super hip, but it's dark and cool, has a pressed-tin ceiling and a light fixture that looks like a huge version of Rosemary's tannis root pendant (geeeeek). It's quiet in the morning and there are nice windows through which to people-watch. Whatever. The point is: what was playing at this cafe this morning?
The GARDEN STATE SOUNDTRACK.
I heard "The Only Living Boy in New York" and said "I used to really love this song, but then it was in Garden State and that wrecked it for me." Then I silently gnashed my teeth about Garden State for a minute. Conversation resumed, and then, oh yeah, here come The Shins, oooh-ooooh-ooooh-ing away. What?! Hipsters willing to admit that they saw Garden State?! My head exploded. Also because it made me feel like I was back in freshman year of school. And the fact that that feels like a long time ago is making my head explode again, right now. (I can't really articulate my rage about Garden State....the only thing I can say is that it makes as much sense for me to hate Garden State the way I do and for the reasons I do as it does for Erin and me to think that us seeing Paul Rudd on the day of Heath Ledger's death somehow contributed to that event. NO SENSE AT ALL, and yet....the feelings exist!)
I think this blog has 5 readers, and I know that I've already told this story to 3 of them, but I'll share it again, because it's funny. I have a Google alert set up for The All-For-Nots, and a vast majority of the hits are links to the episodes posted on various sharing sites-- YouTube, Revver, Truveo, whatever. And it always comes up with a link, the title of the ep, and a one-line quote from the ep., in lieu of a summary or anything. The line for this week's ep "The Shtop" is "I want a muffin."
I got an alert a few days ago that had a link to "The Shtop" on some foreign site. It had obviously been through a few rough translations from English and back again, and the resulting tagline was: "I poverty a muffin."
Zing!
I'm gonna go bike to Fort Greene. Yikes!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Yell's bells. Writing angst. Other assorted normalcies
Two times in as many days I have had to assert myself to someone (the same person) for two different reasons. I am not a passive person, and certainly I have very strong opinions-- but I do not consider myself to be aggressive. I do not like confronting people and sometimes have a hard time speaking super-directly to people that I'm not close to. But when someone messes with me? Or my friends? Or, I mean, just pisses me the hell off? Whooooo, boy. Sometimes things happen that surprise me. Both times, I feel my breath get caught, tight, up in chest. My heart starts POUNDING and I lose most of my awareness of how loudly I am speaking.
(Historically, I don't yell at people. But there WAS that one time I yelled at Smooth L (riDICulous band "teacher") in high school-- I don't remember much about it, except that we screamed at each other, she essentially kicked me out of class, I flounced down the hall the to administrator's office, and then the next morning I had to go in for a parent-teacher-administrator conference. To add insult to injury, it was the morning after Clay lost American Idol and I was, justifiably, very upset. A bad day for all. I think only Akil can confirm this incident.)
Anyway, anyway. This week has been silly and I think next week will be the same. I have a million days off next week and am already fearing them. When did that happen? When did free time become a bad thing?
I saw people this week, though, which was excellent. The nightlife highlight of the week was definitely Friday, which saw me boozing in two boroughs with Nitz, Julie, Craig, and special (underage) guest star from Boston Chris Bannow. We started at Alligator, where I ate too much free pizza, then skipped the light whatever over to Via Della P. to see Heather and Stephan, though no Tara, sadly, and in a remarkable coincidence, Ian M. I think I just need to come to terms with the fact that when ever I get settled, something weird, some strange coincidence, will happen to keep me on my toes. Those things will still happen, but maybe I won't be so stunned if I try to pre-emptively make peace? WTF knows.
And tomorrow is Memorial Day. I don't know what I'm going to do. I think perhaps I will bike to and then around Prospect Park. I got two beach invites, but I don't know....I don't know. Lord knows that the only two errands I've had to run for the past week cannot be completed tomorrow, since they involve the library and the post office. Double-whammy! I'll invent a bank errand and then it'll be a triple-play.
Maybe because I can't do any less, I have been thinking about writing. I feel like I want to want to want to write but that I have no no no ideas. I guess writers feel like this. I guess it is fair to refer to myself as a writer. I'm sure Lydia would say that. It does feel silly, though. (My former celebrity charge (har har) told me that when he moved to London to be a professional actor, he didn't work for 18 months and he started telling people he was a novelist bc he couldn't tell them he was an actor any longer. I liked that story.) Anyway, my "point" is that I feel funny thinking of myself as a writer when all I think about is how I "have no ideas." I do, but I judge them immediately-- which I know is the kiss of death. I wonder how I managed to wring WTTAN out of myself. I wonder if I had a compelling story again, if I'd be able to write. I feel like if someone told me "Write about this," and gave me something good, or even something specific that I felt I understood, I'd be able to do it. I just feel like I have no place to come from. All of the ideas that have been rotting in my notebooks for 4 years seem so old and tired or goofy or frivolous....oh dear, oh dear. I don't know.
Also, I don't know if he's found his way here yet, but if you have-- welcome to the new blog, and to Facebook, Uncle SCOTT. T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
No more being serious! Thanks to a well-timed text, thoughts of never writing again/fighting with coworkers/the state of my life have been replaced with thoughts of "slavic dancing." I am also comforted by the fact that it's lovely out, last night the moon was gorgeous (so there's hope for tonight), I had a text convo with my brother about Clifford Odets today. In short: all is now well. At least for now.
Thank you, and good day!
I said good DAY, sir!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Checkmate in three moves in your heyday.
AGHHHHHHHHHHHH DAVID LYNCH HAS DESTROYED ME YET AGAIN!!!
This time in a good way AND a bad way.
The history behind these statements: last year, I got my dear sweet tolerant generous friend Meghan to go to Coolidge Corner for a midnight showing of "Blue Velvet." I had never seen it before and honestly didn't have any idea of what to expect. I knew it was "weird," but that was it. Suffice it to say...two hours later, I had ruined Meghan's life and wreaked havoc on my own sanity. That was a scary walk home to Kenmore Square. (The famous story which comes out of this is: Meghan got home and was so scared that she woke up our friend Karl and made him watch "Roseanne" re-runs on TV until she had chased the Lynchian demons out of her brain. Karl went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then burst back into the room screaming 'I LOVE YOU! LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!' a la Isabella Rosselini in the movie. Another hour of 'Roseanne' was the only cure for the relapse which resulted. :P )
Anyway, then I went the next weekend at midnight to see "Wild At Heart" and walked home in the rain, again at 2 in the morning, totally wired and freaked out.
Cut to me on any given night of the past month....laying in bed binging (shouldn't there be an "e" in that?) on "Twin Peaks." It had always been something I knew about, and vaguely thought I might want to watch, though honestly I had some difficulty keeping it straight from "Northern Exposure" (Nitz and Erin have the same issue...anyone?)--but on the strong recommendation of someone whose taste I trust, I Netflixed it and then all of a sudden, my life was gone. Gone, gone, GONE to the charming smile of Agent Dale Cooper, the coffee and cherry pie at the Double R, and the wisdom of the Log Lady. But it was good.
So I was understandably upset when, last night, I found myself at the last episode in the series. And even MORE upset at the ending. No spoilers here, folks.....just that I felt the same way at the end of TP as I did at the end of Carnivale. But I was 100x more terrified this time. I couldn't go to sleep because I was so jazzed, AND because my apartment was super cold...which I couldn't fix because I was too scared to get out of bed (some part of me recognized how stupid that was, but a BIG part of me thought 'better safe than sorry' was a good motto to operate under, at least until the light of day). So I woke up every hour on the half hour, shivering, excited, nervous...what a way to spend a night!
As a result, I seemed to be a little on edge when I woke up. After an uncommonly nice beginning-of-morning, I swooped down into the ugly depths of a non-specific sadness, complete with tears-in-eyes and inexplicable morbid outlook. Luckily, when I got outside, the sun was shining, I had someone to cheer me up, I drank coffee, and when I got to work I ate a piece from a La Mama-shaped cake.
And now the sun is not shining. But I feel okay. It's better to remember: maybe if I don't encourage myself to feel sad, I won't feel sad. Allowing myself to feel sad and encouraging myself to do it are two different things. It is important for me to differentiate between them.
DiaBEETis!
This time in a good way AND a bad way.
The history behind these statements: last year, I got my dear sweet tolerant generous friend Meghan to go to Coolidge Corner for a midnight showing of "Blue Velvet." I had never seen it before and honestly didn't have any idea of what to expect. I knew it was "weird," but that was it. Suffice it to say...two hours later, I had ruined Meghan's life and wreaked havoc on my own sanity. That was a scary walk home to Kenmore Square. (The famous story which comes out of this is: Meghan got home and was so scared that she woke up our friend Karl and made him watch "Roseanne" re-runs on TV until she had chased the Lynchian demons out of her brain. Karl went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then burst back into the room screaming 'I LOVE YOU! LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!' a la Isabella Rosselini in the movie. Another hour of 'Roseanne' was the only cure for the relapse which resulted. :P )
Anyway, then I went the next weekend at midnight to see "Wild At Heart" and walked home in the rain, again at 2 in the morning, totally wired and freaked out.
Cut to me on any given night of the past month....laying in bed binging (shouldn't there be an "e" in that?) on "Twin Peaks." It had always been something I knew about, and vaguely thought I might want to watch, though honestly I had some difficulty keeping it straight from "Northern Exposure" (Nitz and Erin have the same issue...anyone?)--but on the strong recommendation of someone whose taste I trust, I Netflixed it and then all of a sudden, my life was gone. Gone, gone, GONE to the charming smile of Agent Dale Cooper, the coffee and cherry pie at the Double R, and the wisdom of the Log Lady. But it was good.
So I was understandably upset when, last night, I found myself at the last episode in the series. And even MORE upset at the ending. No spoilers here, folks.....just that I felt the same way at the end of TP as I did at the end of Carnivale. But I was 100x more terrified this time. I couldn't go to sleep because I was so jazzed, AND because my apartment was super cold...which I couldn't fix because I was too scared to get out of bed (some part of me recognized how stupid that was, but a BIG part of me thought 'better safe than sorry' was a good motto to operate under, at least until the light of day). So I woke up every hour on the half hour, shivering, excited, nervous...what a way to spend a night!
As a result, I seemed to be a little on edge when I woke up. After an uncommonly nice beginning-of-morning, I swooped down into the ugly depths of a non-specific sadness, complete with tears-in-eyes and inexplicable morbid outlook. Luckily, when I got outside, the sun was shining, I had someone to cheer me up, I drank coffee, and when I got to work I ate a piece from a La Mama-shaped cake.
And now the sun is not shining. But I feel okay. It's better to remember: maybe if I don't encourage myself to feel sad, I won't feel sad. Allowing myself to feel sad and encouraging myself to do it are two different things. It is important for me to differentiate between them.
DiaBEETis!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Gorgeous holiday?
The 'lusty month of May' is turning out to be the 'tired, stressed, rainy, dismal month of May' in my book. Ugh. This weather. My boss just looked out the door and said "Freezing. Freezing and pouring." That's exactly what I want to hear.
To make things worse, I have only one episode of Twin Peaks left until the end of the series. THE END OF THE SERIES. Sure, I can watch the prequel, but it won't be the same. This is just like when I was coming to the end of Carnivale. I know these people! I love them! I want them in my life! (Yes, even the psycho killers and the slimy businessmen and the drug dealers...)
Slinky Calhoun enjoyed a banner day yesterday-- two sales in the course of a few hours! Booyah. Erin and I also indulged ourselves and ordered cheapass--but cute--business cards. Come on. We have to amuse ourselves somehow! (And now that obviously necessitates buying cases for the cards. Which means we get to shop on Etsy. Everyone wins. [I'm considering this one.])
This rain, this rain, this RAIN! Craig Lucas was the CFA commencement speaker this year-- horribly unfair, imho, as we were stuck with an incoherent artist asshole. Here's a link to his speech on the Huffington Post (?)--rife with typos and at least one inaccuracy (Schiele!), it is nonetheless a lovely, funny, and hopeful speech that I would have been glad to hear while sitting on the stage of the Hunt, wringing my hands ceaselessly.
The dictionary.com word of the day is "Potemkin village."
Potemkin village \puh-TEM(P)-kin\, noun:
An impressive facade or display that hides an undesirable fact or state; a false front.
I have never heard this term in my life.
I want to curl up in bed with Slinky and a cup of tea.
To make things worse, I have only one episode of Twin Peaks left until the end of the series. THE END OF THE SERIES. Sure, I can watch the prequel, but it won't be the same. This is just like when I was coming to the end of Carnivale. I know these people! I love them! I want them in my life! (Yes, even the psycho killers and the slimy businessmen and the drug dealers...)
Slinky Calhoun enjoyed a banner day yesterday-- two sales in the course of a few hours! Booyah. Erin and I also indulged ourselves and ordered cheapass--but cute--business cards. Come on. We have to amuse ourselves somehow! (And now that obviously necessitates buying cases for the cards. Which means we get to shop on Etsy. Everyone wins. [I'm considering this one.])
This rain, this rain, this RAIN! Craig Lucas was the CFA commencement speaker this year-- horribly unfair, imho, as we were stuck with an incoherent artist asshole. Here's a link to his speech on the Huffington Post (?)--rife with typos and at least one inaccuracy (Schiele!), it is nonetheless a lovely, funny, and hopeful speech that I would have been glad to hear while sitting on the stage of the Hunt, wringing my hands ceaselessly.
The dictionary.com word of the day is "Potemkin village."
Potemkin village \puh-TEM(P)-kin\, noun:
An impressive facade or display that hides an undesirable fact or state; a false front.
I have never heard this term in my life.
I want to curl up in bed with Slinky and a cup of tea.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Allow me to be sappy for a moment.
I need to take a brief moment to recognize how lucky I feel to have a lot of people in my life that love and support me...or at least like me a little bit. I appreciate it. A LOT.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Also!
Why haven't I noticed until now the Wegman's-brand products all over The Office? Somehow I don't mind product placement when it's Wegman's.
Friday, May 16, 2008
That part will suck, but it will be great. Yeah.
Sometimes, The Office blows my mind. Lately, the mark of something being "good" for me is if I am surprised by it-- and I feel like there have been a lot of the classic "Yes, but not the way you thought" endings in stuff I've seen lately. And I'm loving them! Like Juno-- I totally thought I was going to hate it, but of course by the end I was crying in my bed. No real surprise there, but I *was* happy that I wasn't able to predict the Jason Bateman/Jennifer Garner storyline like I thought I'd be able to. It wound up totally different than any of the guess I would have made.
Anyway, The Office last night, which I just watched on the computer at work, thank you, made me pleasantly surprised in a lot of ways...not the least of which being the fact that I saw Dwight's naked back. Can't say that was a welcome suprise, but...I'll take it. Basically, The Office is good. I will always love it and watch it and even if it's a little shaky pretend it isn't...but it was back in full full force last night. (Too bad it was the season finale.) Now it's all discussing spinoff conspiracy theories... and gnashing my teeth until next season.
I saw Eric Stoltz yesterday. This was particularly funny to me because I watched him for a few minutes in a terrible movie the other night where he looked, if possible, even uglier than he did in Mask....as did Mary Louise Parker. He was some sort of 1980s playwright in New York....blah blah blah. Anyway, though the weather was weirdly hot and muggy/chilly and windy yesterday, I (accompanied by a comrade) took a lazy stroll around a part of the city I never go to, had a good lunch complete with aforementioned Eric Stoltz sighting, and almost got hit by a truck! (That's what happens when you talk a lot and don't pay attention to where you're going. Good.) I like doing things in the middle of the day. My creepy prof. Alan in London talked constantly (really) about how he liked going to the movies or the theatre in the middle of the day because it made him feel like he was doing something illicit-- you leave the sunshine and go into this dark room, you should probably be at work or at least doing something, but, you're not. I certainly wasn't working yesterday afternoon, and I wasn't shunning the outdoors, but nonetheless, there's something nice about a languorous lunch in the middle of someone else's workday.
Tonight, I go singing in New Jersey and then to see various singing friends. Tomorrow? Erin and I are venturing to CRAFT HEAVEN in Queens: Michael's. Hooray!
Anyway, The Office last night, which I just watched on the computer at work, thank you, made me pleasantly surprised in a lot of ways...not the least of which being the fact that I saw Dwight's naked back. Can't say that was a welcome suprise, but...I'll take it. Basically, The Office is good. I will always love it and watch it and even if it's a little shaky pretend it isn't...but it was back in full full force last night. (Too bad it was the season finale.) Now it's all discussing spinoff conspiracy theories... and gnashing my teeth until next season.
I saw Eric Stoltz yesterday. This was particularly funny to me because I watched him for a few minutes in a terrible movie the other night where he looked, if possible, even uglier than he did in Mask....as did Mary Louise Parker. He was some sort of 1980s playwright in New York....blah blah blah. Anyway, though the weather was weirdly hot and muggy/chilly and windy yesterday, I (accompanied by a comrade) took a lazy stroll around a part of the city I never go to, had a good lunch complete with aforementioned Eric Stoltz sighting, and almost got hit by a truck! (That's what happens when you talk a lot and don't pay attention to where you're going. Good.) I like doing things in the middle of the day. My creepy prof. Alan in London talked constantly (really) about how he liked going to the movies or the theatre in the middle of the day because it made him feel like he was doing something illicit-- you leave the sunshine and go into this dark room, you should probably be at work or at least doing something, but, you're not. I certainly wasn't working yesterday afternoon, and I wasn't shunning the outdoors, but nonetheless, there's something nice about a languorous lunch in the middle of someone else's workday.
Tonight, I go singing in New Jersey and then to see various singing friends. Tomorrow? Erin and I are venturing to CRAFT HEAVEN in Queens: Michael's. Hooray!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Conversation Gems from the Past Few Days
Watching Law and Order: SVU--Benson and Stabler do what Erin feels is an inadequate assessment of the seemingly-innocent character played by Robin Williams:
Erin: COME ON. It's Robin Williams and this is 2008. This isn't 1997. He isn't JOLLY. Come ON.
Walking in Union Square with Craig the other day, I am accosted by a guy asking me if I'll be a hair model for him the next day at TIGI. We discuss my hair, Craig can't control himself:
Guy: So it'll just be a basic bob.
Anna: Great.
Guy: How do you usually wear your fringe? Are you growing it out?
Anna: It's just sort of long right now...I'd like it to be shor--
Craig: --she had it cut up to HERE once! *holds his hand above my ears*
Anna: Uh--
Craig:--he needs to KNOW!
After the guy left, I said "Craig, it isn't like a pre-existing medical condition. What does he care if my hair was short once?" He responded "Yeah, but you were acting like you were gonna lie about it! Your hair WAS really short! You looked like a boy!" With friends like these...
Walking to the subway yesterday, some particularly chatty construction guys:
(from a distance) Guy 1: Check out this one.
Guy 2: Yeah.
Guy 1: Miss, are those Bugle Boys you're wearing?
Anna: ......ha ha....?
Guy 1: You're supposed to say 'Yes, why yes they are.'
Guy 2: You're hot.
Via Gchat, I tell Clam something which provokes a response, the tone of which is muddled by pesky technology:
Liam: WOW
Erin: COME ON. It's Robin Williams and this is 2008. This isn't 1997. He isn't JOLLY. Come ON.
Walking in Union Square with Craig the other day, I am accosted by a guy asking me if I'll be a hair model for him the next day at TIGI. We discuss my hair, Craig can't control himself:
Guy: So it'll just be a basic bob.
Anna: Great.
Guy: How do you usually wear your fringe? Are you growing it out?
Anna: It's just sort of long right now...I'd like it to be shor--
Craig: --she had it cut up to HERE once! *holds his hand above my ears*
Anna: Uh--
Craig:--he needs to KNOW!
After the guy left, I said "Craig, it isn't like a pre-existing medical condition. What does he care if my hair was short once?" He responded "Yeah, but you were acting like you were gonna lie about it! Your hair WAS really short! You looked like a boy!" With friends like these...
Walking to the subway yesterday, some particularly chatty construction guys:
(from a distance) Guy 1: Check out this one.
Guy 2: Yeah.
Guy 1: Miss, are those Bugle Boys you're wearing?
Anna: ......ha ha....?
Guy 1: You're supposed to say 'Yes, why yes they are.'
Guy 2: You're hot.
Via Gchat, I tell Clam something which provokes a response, the tone of which is muddled by pesky technology:
Liam: WOW
oops caps lock was on haha
imagine a toned down, sighing "wow" not an incredulous screaming one
like that may have looked
Oh good LORD!
So when I was in elementary school, there was this kid named Tyler Holmes that was one of my friends. He had an awful home life, super-deadbeat parents, was always kind of dirty...the whole nine yards of badness for a kid. But he was a sweet boy and my parents liked him and tried to help him out with stuff once in a while. Tyler and I were in class together most years I was at Elmer (I think Justin can verify that). I think in fourth grade, Tyler gave me this necklace on Valentine's day-- he came to my house, I can remember him giving it to me on the porch. I don't remember much about it other than that, except that I was utterly bewildered/terrified of the whole idea and I gave it back to him. My mom thinks this story is hilarious.
Anyway, Tyler never made it to high school and we sort of lost track of him, though Regina and I would occasionally wonder what happened to him. Then, about two years ago, some crazy dude tried to snatch a kid off a lawn on Elmer Avenue, failed, got chased by the cops, and finished said chase by climbing onto the roof of the President's house on the Union campus. (At the time, that was Roberto's house....insane.) Needless to say, the coppers got 'im and locked 'im up. Needless to say, this crazy dude was Tyler. Gina and I jokingly contemplated visiting him in jail, but again, needless to say...never did.
Two days ago my mom sent me a clipping from the Gazette with the following note attached: "Looks like he was out of jail for a while, anyway!"
MAN FACES CHARGE OF POSSESSION
OF ILLEGAL SHOTGUN
SCHENECTADY--A local man faces a felony weapons charge for allegedly possessing a shotgun. Police on Saturday responded to 839 Eastern Avenue for a report of a man with a shotgun. The man left the scene and went to Park Avenue.
Police spokesman Lt. Brian Kilcullen said officers found Tyler Joseph Holmes, 22, of Eastern Avenue with a shotgun with the barrel cut by 17 inches and the stock cut down for the purposes of concealment.
Holmes was charged with felony third-degree crininal possession of a concealed weappon, misdemeanor criminal possession of a weapon after having been convicted of a felony and a violation offense of unlawful possession of marijuana.
Welcome back to the game, Tyler! Seriously?
Anyway, Tyler never made it to high school and we sort of lost track of him, though Regina and I would occasionally wonder what happened to him. Then, about two years ago, some crazy dude tried to snatch a kid off a lawn on Elmer Avenue, failed, got chased by the cops, and finished said chase by climbing onto the roof of the President's house on the Union campus. (At the time, that was Roberto's house....insane.) Needless to say, the coppers got 'im and locked 'im up. Needless to say, this crazy dude was Tyler. Gina and I jokingly contemplated visiting him in jail, but again, needless to say...never did.
Two days ago my mom sent me a clipping from the Gazette with the following note attached: "Looks like he was out of jail for a while, anyway!"
MAN FACES CHARGE OF POSSESSION
OF ILLEGAL SHOTGUN
SCHENECTADY--A local man faces a felony weapons charge for allegedly possessing a shotgun. Police on Saturday responded to 839 Eastern Avenue for a report of a man with a shotgun. The man left the scene and went to Park Avenue.
Police spokesman Lt. Brian Kilcullen said officers found Tyler Joseph Holmes, 22, of Eastern Avenue with a shotgun with the barrel cut by 17 inches and the stock cut down for the purposes of concealment.
Holmes was charged with felony third-degree crininal possession of a concealed weappon, misdemeanor criminal possession of a weapon after having been convicted of a felony and a violation offense of unlawful possession of marijuana.
Welcome back to the game, Tyler! Seriously?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
RIP BR
Rauschenberg died. It is somewhat false of me to mourn this, since his art actually means nothing to me-- but the SITI Company's 'bobrauschenbergamerica' was and is one of the theatre pieces that has meant the most to me in my life.
So, by way of tribute, here's my one of my favorite parts, thank you, Charles Mee, of that script:
But, still, it often seems to me almost miraculous
how we can put things here in the museum
and ordinary folks
my mom and dad and my own neighbors
and I myself
will come to see things
sometimes things that I myself find completely incomprehensible
and really offensive
people will come to our museum
and think: oh, that's interesting
or, oh, that's stupid
but they don't really hold it against the show
they just move on and look at something else and think
oh that's cool.
And I wonder:
how do we get away with that?
And I think well, we are a free people
that's why
and we understand that
in a way maybe other people in the world don't
we like an adventure
often we might think
well, that's a piece of junk
but that's how this fellow sees the world
and there's a certain pleasure in seeing things from his point of view
we are a patient people
no matter what you hear people say
and a tolerant people
and a fearless, open people
that's how it is for us
I think that's how it is to be an American.
We're all unique.
It's a precious thing to compare ourselves to nothing else.
This is my working attitude.
I don't feel shame in my joy.
I started out here knowing what I meant to say
and now I have to say
I don't know what I said.
But I'd just like to welcome you
and let you know
we're all glad to be here with you tonight
to share this with you
and we hope you have a swell evening
So, by way of tribute, here's my one of my favorite parts, thank you, Charles Mee, of that script:
But, still, it often seems to me almost miraculous
how we can put things here in the museum
and ordinary folks
my mom and dad and my own neighbors
and I myself
will come to see things
sometimes things that I myself find completely incomprehensible
and really offensive
people will come to our museum
and think: oh, that's interesting
or, oh, that's stupid
but they don't really hold it against the show
they just move on and look at something else and think
oh that's cool.
And I wonder:
how do we get away with that?
And I think well, we are a free people
that's why
and we understand that
in a way maybe other people in the world don't
we like an adventure
often we might think
well, that's a piece of junk
but that's how this fellow sees the world
and there's a certain pleasure in seeing things from his point of view
we are a patient people
no matter what you hear people say
and a tolerant people
and a fearless, open people
that's how it is for us
I think that's how it is to be an American.
We're all unique.
It's a precious thing to compare ourselves to nothing else.
This is my working attitude.
I don't feel shame in my joy.
I started out here knowing what I meant to say
and now I have to say
I don't know what I said.
But I'd just like to welcome you
and let you know
we're all glad to be here with you tonight
to share this with you
and we hope you have a swell evening
Quasi-Quest
Blackcurrant licorice at ten in the morning. My kind of breakfast.
So, I spent a lovely and absolutely exhausting week in that most congenial spot, transplanted to Avery Fisher Hall. In my newly-conscientious (read: paranoid) state re: this blog, I think maybe I shouldn't spout specifics left and right. This is what I'll say: commercial, large-scale theatre is absolutely insane. So many people that I kept thinking "All of these people can't possibly be working. Seriously?" But oh, they were. Everyone just had one really specific, specialized job--and I mean, I was the most extreme case of that, definitely. But everyone did their one job and that's the way everything kept running. Insane. Operations that large tend to intimidate or overwhelm me and this was no exception for the first few days.
My charge was a lovely and charming gentleman, a pleasure to follow around. He told lots of funny stories and even gave me some nice advice. Delightful. And it was really fun to feel more a part of the group that accompanies this director from show to show-- a group in which my friends that got me this gig are firmly embedded. (Of course it'd be nicer if he understood that I was an actor...but all things in good time.) We had a silly closing party at the bizarre Tavern on the Green-- in my mind, that place was like the height of sophistication, somewhere where I never imagined I'd actually go. Well, maybe it was tres chic...in 1965. Oh man. Deer-shaped medallions on the wall, Chinese lanterns that were actually made out of lampshades upon closer inspection, feet upon feet upon FEET of mirrors on the walls...chandeliers of every stripe. Utterly strange. I hung out with Travis and his gent Mark (coincidentally, Mark and I know each other from R&J in the park years ago...he was Romeo to my serving girl. Bahhhh.), and of course Isaac and Matt...star players made hearfelt and hilarious speeches, impressions were done on piano benches, and come 2:30 I found myself roaming the Upper West Side with a bunch of theatre geek ne'er-do-wells. Plans to go somewhere else fell through, and it took me approximately three weeks to get back to Brooklyn, but it was a wonderfully goofy and pleasant night.
One story: In the show, Arthur, in trying to convince Guenevere to stay in Camelot, tells her all the interesting things she'd be missing if she left. It goes something like this: "We have an enchanted forest, and an invisible castle-- highly original. We have a talking owl named Archimedes-- most unusual. We have unicorns with silver horns-- the rarest kind." Our star said "unicorns" all throughout rehearsal with nary a problem. From dress rehearsal on, things were never the same-- it became, variously: boars with silver feet, little silver goats with tiny silver feet, tiny goats, tiny animals with silver feet, and on closing, little Lonnies with silver feet. So one of the assistants got a little plastic goat and painted its hooves silver and gave it to our man at the party-- it was a huge hit, to say the least. And then they gave me an even littler one. Wonderful.
So, needless to say, I'm now depressed because after a week of working my ass off, I've returned to my life of doing nothing. Oh, excuse me, not nothing-- yesterday I watched about 5 hours of Twin Peaks from a supine position in my bed. That's something. Right.
Two days ago, I met up with Nitz and Julie in the West Village after work and we went to Magnolia, something that I've never done before. It was fun to do it once, and I will say that the banana pudding was a throwback to those pudding concoctions they'd always make at camp and stuff. Delicious. We went back to their place so they could watch 27 Dresses, but I was unable to watch it even in a state of heavy irony, so I fled and watched Juno, which I liked way way way way more than I thought I would and certainly more than I wanted to. Oh man.
And last night, I saw four short riffs on MSND plus a physical piece done by a company that included Miss Katy. Then I went to the dorms at my workplace and drank beers with Shuhei, Elliot, and Valentina, who returns, sadly, to Italy today. The best and stupidest part of the evening involved Shuhei winging a pickled green tomato out the fourth-floor window, across third street, towards the Renewal on the Bowery building. We'd been playing rear window and took it too far! We went onto the roof to enjoy the beautiful view, Valentina sang songs from RENT, and we enacted many young-people-in-the-East-Village cliches. Good.
I'll leave you with this supremely disturbing link, culled from Boing Boing.
So, I spent a lovely and absolutely exhausting week in that most congenial spot, transplanted to Avery Fisher Hall. In my newly-conscientious (read: paranoid) state re: this blog, I think maybe I shouldn't spout specifics left and right. This is what I'll say: commercial, large-scale theatre is absolutely insane. So many people that I kept thinking "All of these people can't possibly be working. Seriously?" But oh, they were. Everyone just had one really specific, specialized job--and I mean, I was the most extreme case of that, definitely. But everyone did their one job and that's the way everything kept running. Insane. Operations that large tend to intimidate or overwhelm me and this was no exception for the first few days.
My charge was a lovely and charming gentleman, a pleasure to follow around. He told lots of funny stories and even gave me some nice advice. Delightful. And it was really fun to feel more a part of the group that accompanies this director from show to show-- a group in which my friends that got me this gig are firmly embedded. (Of course it'd be nicer if he understood that I was an actor...but all things in good time.) We had a silly closing party at the bizarre Tavern on the Green-- in my mind, that place was like the height of sophistication, somewhere where I never imagined I'd actually go. Well, maybe it was tres chic...in 1965. Oh man. Deer-shaped medallions on the wall, Chinese lanterns that were actually made out of lampshades upon closer inspection, feet upon feet upon FEET of mirrors on the walls...chandeliers of every stripe. Utterly strange. I hung out with Travis and his gent Mark (coincidentally, Mark and I know each other from R&J in the park years ago...he was Romeo to my serving girl. Bahhhh.), and of course Isaac and Matt...star players made hearfelt and hilarious speeches, impressions were done on piano benches, and come 2:30 I found myself roaming the Upper West Side with a bunch of theatre geek ne'er-do-wells. Plans to go somewhere else fell through, and it took me approximately three weeks to get back to Brooklyn, but it was a wonderfully goofy and pleasant night.
One story: In the show, Arthur, in trying to convince Guenevere to stay in Camelot, tells her all the interesting things she'd be missing if she left. It goes something like this: "We have an enchanted forest, and an invisible castle-- highly original. We have a talking owl named Archimedes-- most unusual. We have unicorns with silver horns-- the rarest kind." Our star said "unicorns" all throughout rehearsal with nary a problem. From dress rehearsal on, things were never the same-- it became, variously: boars with silver feet, little silver goats with tiny silver feet, tiny goats, tiny animals with silver feet, and on closing, little Lonnies with silver feet. So one of the assistants got a little plastic goat and painted its hooves silver and gave it to our man at the party-- it was a huge hit, to say the least. And then they gave me an even littler one. Wonderful.
So, needless to say, I'm now depressed because after a week of working my ass off, I've returned to my life of doing nothing. Oh, excuse me, not nothing-- yesterday I watched about 5 hours of Twin Peaks from a supine position in my bed. That's something. Right.
Two days ago, I met up with Nitz and Julie in the West Village after work and we went to Magnolia, something that I've never done before. It was fun to do it once, and I will say that the banana pudding was a throwback to those pudding concoctions they'd always make at camp and stuff. Delicious. We went back to their place so they could watch 27 Dresses, but I was unable to watch it even in a state of heavy irony, so I fled and watched Juno, which I liked way way way way more than I thought I would and certainly more than I wanted to. Oh man.
And last night, I saw four short riffs on MSND plus a physical piece done by a company that included Miss Katy. Then I went to the dorms at my workplace and drank beers with Shuhei, Elliot, and Valentina, who returns, sadly, to Italy today. The best and stupidest part of the evening involved Shuhei winging a pickled green tomato out the fourth-floor window, across third street, towards the Renewal on the Bowery building. We'd been playing rear window and took it too far! We went onto the roof to enjoy the beautiful view, Valentina sang songs from RENT, and we enacted many young-people-in-the-East-Village cliches. Good.
I'll leave you with this supremely disturbing link, culled from Boing Boing.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Shall I not be on a pedestal?
At work today, coworker Michael furiously yelled: "All we do is love the theatre. We didn't do anything wrong!" The implied ending: "Why are we being punished?!" Why, indeed?!
I have a few videos posted on YouTube, and one of them is a tiny clip from the BRTC's production of the Crucible, from my sophomore year. I consider this to be one of the highlights of my high school theatre career, as I love the play, I loved my role (and I'll probably never get to play her again), and we had a fabulous cast of thousands. Not to mention the ongoing rivalry with Amdam HS, hey, Knudsen?! (Sidenote-- Drinking game for this clip: take a swig every time I fall on the floor. What? You're wasted? But this is only a minute thirty! EXACTLY.)
Anyway, from time to time, I get hilarious, negative comments on this video and the latest one, from yesterday, tickled me immensely:
"This blocking is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo bad its unreal...the only good actor i see is mary warren!"
And I'll take that all the way to the bank.
I actually worked today, which seems unbelievable, since I've been making a career out of sleeping in, staying out too late, and doing nothing lately. Even more than usual. But, hey! It's the lusty month of May, that lovely month where everyone goes blissfully astray! Tra la!
Forgive me. C-lot on le brain.
But I've been doing good stuff. "Wrangling" aforementioned, anonymous (sike) move star, who is funny, very funny and nice, very nice. And confused....very confused. Yesterday was a 3rd of May party at Julie, Michael and Nitzan's apartment that had dwindled down to Julie, Nick, and Craig by the time I finally got there. I ate many tacos and drank a fair amount of tequila, thanks to Julie's mad drinking-making skills. Even when wasted, she's a better host than I'll ever be. :P And in a wild, uncharacteristic stroke of profligacy, I took a cab home from there last night (Fort Greene) because the thought of waiting for the single-tracked G at Fulton, switching at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, and walking from Nassau was just plain demoralizing. A cab. Who am I?!
The night before, I stayed at Erin's....eating pizza, drinking beer, watching Wet Hot American Summer....having pillow fights, doing each other's nails, and teaching each other how to kiss came later. Siiiiiike.
And today, Erin and I, accompanied by a game Jimmy, ventured to Union Hall in the early evening for a ridiculous Yelp Elite event where we schmoozed with the co-founders and tried to get them to patronize our Etsy store. We'll see what happens. All I know is, I had free beers and "savory pastries," as Jimmy so eloquently put it, galore, and then it took me an hour to get home. I like being Yelp Elite. I get something for absolutely nothing. Always a good exchange.
This week, I am up to my gills with he-who-must-not-be-named (like how I'm making a thing out of this now? Yeah, I didn't think I could be any more affected EITHER)-- the show opens on Wednesday, runs through Saturday, and I work, stupidly, stupidly, I'm going to be so hungover, on Sunday morning at...my workplace, where I work, which I also recently decided must not be named in this blog...because it's sheer stupidity to tempt fate, the intarweb, the Patriot Act, and my coworkers like that.
And hey! Watch the new AFN before anyone else on your block! (Don't you want to be cool?!)
Tra la!
I have a few videos posted on YouTube, and one of them is a tiny clip from the BRTC's production of the Crucible, from my sophomore year. I consider this to be one of the highlights of my high school theatre career, as I love the play, I loved my role (and I'll probably never get to play her again), and we had a fabulous cast of thousands. Not to mention the ongoing rivalry with Amdam HS, hey, Knudsen?! (Sidenote-- Drinking game for this clip: take a swig every time I fall on the floor. What? You're wasted? But this is only a minute thirty! EXACTLY.)
Anyway, from time to time, I get hilarious, negative comments on this video and the latest one, from yesterday, tickled me immensely:
"This blocking is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo bad its unreal...the only good actor i see is mary warren!"
And I'll take that all the way to the bank.
I actually worked today, which seems unbelievable, since I've been making a career out of sleeping in, staying out too late, and doing nothing lately. Even more than usual. But, hey! It's the lusty month of May, that lovely month where everyone goes blissfully astray! Tra la!
Forgive me. C-lot on le brain.
But I've been doing good stuff. "Wrangling" aforementioned, anonymous (sike) move star, who is funny, very funny and nice, very nice. And confused....very confused. Yesterday was a 3rd of May party at Julie, Michael and Nitzan's apartment that had dwindled down to Julie, Nick, and Craig by the time I finally got there. I ate many tacos and drank a fair amount of tequila, thanks to Julie's mad drinking-making skills. Even when wasted, she's a better host than I'll ever be. :P And in a wild, uncharacteristic stroke of profligacy, I took a cab home from there last night (Fort Greene) because the thought of waiting for the single-tracked G at Fulton, switching at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, and walking from Nassau was just plain demoralizing. A cab. Who am I?!
The night before, I stayed at Erin's....eating pizza, drinking beer, watching Wet Hot American Summer....having pillow fights, doing each other's nails, and teaching each other how to kiss came later. Siiiiiike.
And today, Erin and I, accompanied by a game Jimmy, ventured to Union Hall in the early evening for a ridiculous Yelp Elite event where we schmoozed with the co-founders and tried to get them to patronize our Etsy store. We'll see what happens. All I know is, I had free beers and "savory pastries," as Jimmy so eloquently put it, galore, and then it took me an hour to get home. I like being Yelp Elite. I get something for absolutely nothing. Always a good exchange.
This week, I am up to my gills with he-who-must-not-be-named (like how I'm making a thing out of this now? Yeah, I didn't think I could be any more affected EITHER)-- the show opens on Wednesday, runs through Saturday, and I work, stupidly, stupidly, I'm going to be so hungover, on Sunday morning at...my workplace, where I work, which I also recently decided must not be named in this blog...because it's sheer stupidity to tempt fate, the intarweb, the Patriot Act, and my coworkers like that.
And hey! Watch the new AFN before anyone else on your block! (Don't you want to be cool?!)
Tra la!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Also:
link: Emo Lincoln.
He has so, so many reasons to be emo (i.e.-crazy wife, 3/4 kids dead, 1/4 kids a bastard, slavery, impending assassination, the burden of being the best guy ever, his bad singing voice...) Who can blame him?
He has so, so many reasons to be emo (i.e.-crazy wife, 3/4 kids dead, 1/4 kids a bastard, slavery, impending assassination, the burden of being the best guy ever, his bad singing voice...) Who can blame him?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Penguins keep me WARM.
I'm drinking cheap white wine from Trader Joe's and chewing on an uncooked dumpling wrapper that I bought in Chinatown the other day. I DID buy them to actually make dumplings, and I DID do that the other day, but in a fit of nostalgia I ate this one raw-- Liam and I used to buy packages of them at Super 88. I remember one time, freshman year, my minifridge contained ONLY cans of seltzer and a package of dumpling wrappers. Delish.
So, yeah, this is my third entry today, but sometimes, that's how things go.
It's "Artwalk" time on Bedford, which apparently means that a bunch of stores have things hanging in their windows. Some of them are pretty cool-- a bunch of bubble-wrapped twisty pink neon tubes in the window of Brooklyn Industries, a crazy 6-minute video loop in the window of Peter's entitled "Suicide Nun" (I think she's a suicide bomberomg edgy!!)...some are gross, like the collection of chewed gum in a corner store. On the whole, it's fun.
There's a coffee/dessert place on Bedford b/w 8th+9th that, until a few days ago, was called "Sweet Farm." (I've never been there, but my mom had a conversation with this woman who was in the Look Book in NY Mag there. She walks around Wburg in colorful clothing, talking to everyone. She relates in no way to Sweet Farm. This isn't particularly relevant.) ANYway, the point is that as of a few days ago, overnight, Sweet Farm was no more, there was newspaper on the windows, and the sign had been changed to a red one with a picture of an ice cream dish on it that says 'Penny Licks.'
Penny Licks? What? I got a peek inside when the door was open and it looks like they're changing the decor so it looks kinda like an oldey-timey ice cream parlor. Our Town, anyone?
So, it's weird when stuff happens overnight, but it's especially weird that this place went from being the unappealingly-named "Sweet Farm" (conjures up images of candy in hay for me-- not something I want to think about) to the even-MORE alarmingly-titled "Penny Licks." My first mental image was of licking pennies-- mmmmmmm. I discussed this with a comrade of mine who offered the image of a girl (named Penny) running around, licking everything.
I've been scaring the crap out of my myself by watching Twin Peaks late at night. Every time something scary happens, I have to keep watching so the image of, say, Sheryl Lee with blood on her face, screaming demonically OR a somber little kid making creamed corn jump around the room ISN'T the last thing I see before I try to go to sleep. This plan always fails, because there are no placid images on which to call it a night. I'm not complaining; I'm just terrified. I am also falling steadily in love with Kyle McLachlan-- I don't see how that's possible, but it's happening. (I'm also sort of falling in love with Sherilynn Fenn.)
I start my week-long engagement as a wrangler for a pretty sweet movie star tomorrow. (I guess I'll take no chances and leave him anonymous. He's Irish. That's all I'll say.) I'm a little nervous. I am not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing. I've got to turn on the charm.
In one final piece of alarming news: I'm worried that one of my teeth is going to fall out. I'll keep you posted. I know you're worried, too.
So, yeah, this is my third entry today, but sometimes, that's how things go.
It's "Artwalk" time on Bedford, which apparently means that a bunch of stores have things hanging in their windows. Some of them are pretty cool-- a bunch of bubble-wrapped twisty pink neon tubes in the window of Brooklyn Industries, a crazy 6-minute video loop in the window of Peter's entitled "Suicide Nun" (I think she's a suicide bomberomg edgy!!)...some are gross, like the collection of chewed gum in a corner store. On the whole, it's fun.
There's a coffee/dessert place on Bedford b/w 8th+9th that, until a few days ago, was called "Sweet Farm." (I've never been there, but my mom had a conversation with this woman who was in the Look Book in NY Mag there. She walks around Wburg in colorful clothing, talking to everyone. She relates in no way to Sweet Farm. This isn't particularly relevant.) ANYway, the point is that as of a few days ago, overnight, Sweet Farm was no more, there was newspaper on the windows, and the sign had been changed to a red one with a picture of an ice cream dish on it that says 'Penny Licks.'
Penny Licks? What? I got a peek inside when the door was open and it looks like they're changing the decor so it looks kinda like an oldey-timey ice cream parlor. Our Town, anyone?
So, it's weird when stuff happens overnight, but it's especially weird that this place went from being the unappealingly-named "Sweet Farm" (conjures up images of candy in hay for me-- not something I want to think about) to the even-MORE alarmingly-titled "Penny Licks." My first mental image was of licking pennies-- mmmmmmm. I discussed this with a comrade of mine who offered the image of a girl (named Penny) running around, licking everything.
I've been scaring the crap out of my myself by watching Twin Peaks late at night. Every time something scary happens, I have to keep watching so the image of, say, Sheryl Lee with blood on her face, screaming demonically OR a somber little kid making creamed corn jump around the room ISN'T the last thing I see before I try to go to sleep. This plan always fails, because there are no placid images on which to call it a night. I'm not complaining; I'm just terrified. I am also falling steadily in love with Kyle McLachlan-- I don't see how that's possible, but it's happening. (I'm also sort of falling in love with Sherilynn Fenn.)
I start my week-long engagement as a wrangler for a pretty sweet movie star tomorrow. (I guess I'll take no chances and leave him anonymous. He's Irish. That's all I'll say.) I'm a little nervous. I am not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing. I've got to turn on the charm.
In one final piece of alarming news: I'm worried that one of my teeth is going to fall out. I'll keep you posted. I know you're worried, too.
Unite, and unite, and let us all unite!
It's May Day! Cue the sentimental feelings for my week in Cornwall. Who can blame me?
Here are some Oss videos to transport you to that magical place. Drink a beer and sing along.
Here are some Oss videos to transport you to that magical place. Drink a beer and sing along.
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