Maybe I Just Don't See The Reason.

But...


Well, I'm certifiably intoxicated. Let's see how many (if any) typographical errors I make. Tonight, I "worked" by seeing a show, then went out for Mexican and margaritas with Emma and Matt afterwards. Delicious and way, way too much. There was a brief downpour; service was bad; Kurt Vonnegut says that semicolons are "transvestite hermaphrodites that do nothing except prove you've been to college." Sue me, Kurt. I've been to college.


Craig met up with us and we eventually extricated ourselves from the morass that is Mary Ann's on Second Avenue. We then took a detour into Alphabet City, Emma got her ass groped, and we wound up back on Second Avenue at a nondescript "Irish" bar, playing darts. I am a very, very bad darts player. I had several beers, and now my fingertips are refusing to cooperate.


In the words of the Raconteurs-- should we call it a day? Yeah? Would that be okay?

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.

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.

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.