...but before you go making out with everyone in the Playhouse, how about forkin' over the gift?
let A = "It is cold outside and in my apartment"
let B = "My bed is warm"
let C = "Pee-Wee's Playhouse is the only thing that can make me sit up in bed"
A ---> B
B ---> C
:.
A ---> C
Those proofs make no sense, but neither does Magic Johnson and Magic Screen being cousins. And that is why I love it!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Upstate worms will eat my head.
After an unequivocally terrible night at work, I treated myself to the movies and went to the Sunshine to see 'Synechdoche, New York.' Though my coworked warned me that I was completely insane, and called me a 'freak' for going on such an emotionally fraught evening, I thought it seemed like a good idea. In the end, it was. I really liked the movie, though I didn't love it in the intense way I do, say, Eternal Sunshine. Phillip Seymour Hoffman (aka 'the fat guy from 'Twister,'' right, Rinnz?) was fucking great, as I figured he would be-- I mean, so was everybody. I don't know how anybody acts in a movie, to be quite honest, and I don't know how anybody acts in a movie like this. I think it'll be a long long long time before I can ever be halfway decent on screen. This isn't really based on anything. But but but, the performances were really, really wonderful...two of the weirdest movies I've seen this year both starred Samantha Morton, and I might be in love with her. She's so strange. Jennifer Jason Leigh showed up briefly as an evil lady with huge boobs and a fake German accent. Amazing. The 'Schenectady' of the movie bore no resemblance to the real thing-- I laughed when someone said something about catering to 'blue-hair suburban regional theatregoers,' because there aren't too many of those in Schenec....but then again, there's no modern, beautiful theatre complex, either, and no one staging weird, avant-garde shows in big venues which attract large, paying audiences, either. But I'm no complaining, I'm really not. The Schenectady of the movie looked like a pretty darn nice place to live. (My one question for Charlie K. would be-- why did you not choose to use the real Schenec zip code 12345 when you showed us their address??!?!?! Chance of a LIFETIME, sir!)
ANYWAY. It was super long, there was a couple AGGRESSIVELY making out sitting in front of me, and some know-it-alls were driving me nuts afterward- but on the whole, it was a really satisfying antidote to sadness. Even though it was really sad.
After the movie, I slogged to the First Avenue L station, where I wound up embroiled in some bizarre subway talk with the three guys sitting around me. One works with Emma at a restaurant, and so I felt safe accepting part of a cookie he offered me. THIS IS WHY I CANNOT BE TRUSTED TO TALK TO PEOPLE WHEN I AM ALONE. Why do I put this stuff on the internet? Do I want people to think I'm an idiot? There was a lot of solidarity-speak re: how much the subway sucks, a brief discussion abt. rat kings (I'm a one-trick pony), and a lot of nervous laughter on my part.
Speaking of me being an idiot, I'd like to point out that I've passed the one-year anniversary of getting blackout drunk and losing my purse in the LES, and I'd like to pat myself on the back. I think I can almost laugh about it now....?
It's snowing out now, and everything looks beautiful. I wish I could stay in and be cozy all day. I make a trek to the bagel place down the street where I enjoyed a "candy peppermint" bagel, which was striped red and white and essentially tasted like it had candy canes ground up in it. Um, yum.
I'm going home on Tuesday morning. I'm glad.
Charlie Kaufman!! You harsh master.
ANYWAY. It was super long, there was a couple AGGRESSIVELY making out sitting in front of me, and some know-it-alls were driving me nuts afterward- but on the whole, it was a really satisfying antidote to sadness. Even though it was really sad.
After the movie, I slogged to the First Avenue L station, where I wound up embroiled in some bizarre subway talk with the three guys sitting around me. One works with Emma at a restaurant, and so I felt safe accepting part of a cookie he offered me. THIS IS WHY I CANNOT BE TRUSTED TO TALK TO PEOPLE WHEN I AM ALONE. Why do I put this stuff on the internet? Do I want people to think I'm an idiot? There was a lot of solidarity-speak re: how much the subway sucks, a brief discussion abt. rat kings (I'm a one-trick pony), and a lot of nervous laughter on my part.
Speaking of me being an idiot, I'd like to point out that I've passed the one-year anniversary of getting blackout drunk and losing my purse in the LES, and I'd like to pat myself on the back. I think I can almost laugh about it now....?
It's snowing out now, and everything looks beautiful. I wish I could stay in and be cozy all day. I make a trek to the bagel place down the street where I enjoyed a "candy peppermint" bagel, which was striped red and white and essentially tasted like it had candy canes ground up in it. Um, yum.
I'm going home on Tuesday morning. I'm glad.
Charlie Kaufman!! You harsh master.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Unresolved.
Yesterday, I took myself to 59E59 to see Rough Magic's 'Improbably Frequency,' a show I had seen four years earlier (JESUS CHRIST) in Dublin. This was when I was visiting Ben, during Christmas break of my sophomore year, and we were looking for a show to see. He had free tickets to a new play that looked super boring-- living room set, young actors wearing t-shirts-- so we opted for the 'unwaged' tickets at the Abbey for this show that we knew nothing about.
It turned out to be one of the best and most memorable theatrical experiences of my life. It's a musical about the Irish Free State during WWII, and though that sounds like just about the worst premise ever, it is insanely silly, inventive, hilarious, creative, exciting....I'll just go on and on, so I won't. It's got historical characters-- Erwin Schroedinger (played as a sex-crazed maniac in ledehosen); the poet John Betjeman (in a straw boater, carrying a teddy bear);and writer Myles na gCopaleen (aka Flann O'Brien). It's got shamrocks shaped like swastikas. It's got the most delightful music. A religious service for Guiness. Sex in verse. EVERYTHING AMAZING.
Anyway, I heard it was coming to NY and I freaked out and couldn't wait to see it. I had a few moments of being nervous-- what if it wasn't as good as I remembered it being?
BUT IT WASSSSSSSSSSSS oh my god it WAS. I was so delighted to be seeing it again after all this time, and it was just how I remembered it, with the exception of a few cast changes. The bluehairs around me were half happy, half asleep-- and the quartet next to me left at intermission. Because they were idiots. It's just so wonderful, and contains so many elements that I can only hope to have in all of my future theatrical projects. I admire this company immensely, and am so happy that they managed to bring the show over here. In my half-imagined, cockamamie schemes that I liked to think about late at night, the ones where I go to England or Scotland to work....I think I should include room for Rough Magic. I mean, why not?
So, I say, GO! if you are able. It runs 'til January 4th in New York. It's fucking great.
The week+ since my birthday has been good. I shot a short film earlier this week, in the most incredible apartment I've ever been in. Enormous windows, through which you can see: the Brooklyn Bridge. My god, it was beautiful. I was hypnotized by the lights from the cars going over the bridge. I don't know how anyone could actually live there. The shoot was fun, if totally insane and hectic. The writer/director, a guy I know from school, did a nice job holding it together under pressure, and the other actor was a nice guy who was amenable to lots of goofing around. That's basically all I need in a collaborator. Well, maybe not ALL. But I wore a crazy red dress and drank a lot of fake gin and had a grand old time. Somewhere along the way, perhaps on Tuesday night when I walked around for ten minutes in the rain at 3 AM looking for a cab in DUMBO (not a good idea), I got sort of sick. Which blows. But at least I'm going home soon and can be sick there.
Going home is a source of stress, of course. I don't know when I'm going to be able to go back to the Electric City, or how long I can stay. And I have to make up my mind about New Year's Eve-- I've been thinking I might go to Boston, but I'm too lazy to figure it out. Even though my horoscope told me finalize travel plans the other day. Eekerz!
Holiday parties are building up; I hate to admit it, but Midtown looks beautiful; my shopping is not done. Ah, Christmas.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Welcome to the fold, brother.
I'm writing on the gloriously white keyboard of my brand-new (used) laptop. I bid the Tecra8200 (never heard of it? Whaaat??) goodbye and opened my arms to this puppy. As of this morning, I'm a Mac gal. Wowza!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I've been pretty bad at blogging lately. There's been a lot going on, certainly some legitimately interesting things (or so I think), but I've been too insane/manic/depressive/hungry/tired/anything else you can think of to sit down and do it.
Now is the time!
Going way back, Thanksgiving (my GOD) was a lot of fun. It was great to be home-- I had been really looking forward to it and was so happy to be in my house, in my old room, with Slinky, with a real kitchen, with a bathroom that doesn't make me into a rageaholic every time I try to take a shower. Most of the extended family was there and I was so happy to see them. Fun things included eating way too much, eating some more, verging on barfing a million times, antagonizing the Guba's dog, eating still MORE, and playing Balderdash with a combination of people who didn't understand the rules, people who understood but had no regard for the rules, very Christian people, drunk people, and people who didn't want to be playing.
A highlight was going, the day after T-giving, to The Newest Lunch in Schenec and 'secretly' 'flirting' with all the guys who work there. This has been going on for approximately six years. They must know. There are a lot of them; Ange is my main crush. When he says "Hey, how you been?" twice a year, my heart goes pitter-pat. My family makes fun; but my crush on the hotdog man is all real. Some day! I'll tell him my love. Until then....I'll take one with everything.
After Thanksgiving, my insanity incread 450% because time started to run out before MY READING. Which happened two days ago. In the week leading up to Tgiving, I spent a minimum of four hours at Cafe Grumpy in Greenpoint, scraping together change to buy cups of coffee, ripping my hair out and doing a lot of agonizing over the three words I'd manage to write. I didn't do a lick of work over Thanksgiving. When I got back to New York, I realized that the new draft still didn't have an ending and that I was in big trouble. However-- I put one together, the folks at La Mama assembled a cast, and we made it through the to day of the rehearsal. I had only a few nervous breakdowns along the way.
And then it was Tuesday, my birthday, and the day of the reading. It's easy to guilt people into coming to a reading that they wouldn't necessarily come to when it's ALSO your birthday, I have to say. My parents were there, as well a many, many of my wonderful friends from all different places-- work, school, shows, etc. I can't imagine having another birthday when I might have so many people that I like in one place. The reading went as well as I could have hoped it to go. I was pleased. And a wreck. I wrang my hands, bit my nails, and compulsively took off and put on my sweater during it. I was flushed and my heart was beating out of my chest. I haven't been so worked up in a long, long time. It felt good. At the end, I was brought onstage while people sang happy birthday, which embarassed me to no end, and which made me turn even redder. Then there was a short, relatively painless talkback in which I attempted to walk the line between charmingly self-deprecating and impressively cool. Uh, I think we can all guess which one I veered more towards. Talkbacks are the devil. The only good part was the lights glinting off my sweet kicks. I liked that.
Some folks went out for drinks afterwards, and I had a great, great time laughing and drinking and eating cookies (my mom made some shaped like Lincoln-- do you see where I get it?). My parents gave me too many presents, including a pair of saddle shoes. They are fucking awesome. (I had a fit last night at the pizza place by my apartment when Nitz and I spotted a hipster girl at the next table wearing a pair. I was like 'NO! This was going to be MY style! How dare the hipsters co-opt it already?!)
So, now I'm 23, have cool shoes, and know that I have a lot of really awesome friends. That's good.
I think I'm slowly crashing from the nervousness/excitement of the past few weeks. The proof? I slept about 12 hours last night and spent today in bed, watching Arrested Development. Indeed. Painting my nails was my biggest accomplishment.
I don't know what's next for me. I know now for sure, though I've known it before, that though it makes me insane, I'm definitely WAY better off when I'm working really hard on something. I should do something new.
We'll see.
Christmas is coming up soon, which I can't believe. Despite attempts not to, I'm falling into the trap and getting stressed out about it.
In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of his finest roles, I need to "CHILL."
Finally: We've gotten two letters to Santa here at work. The first one was from a girl who was writing on behalf of herself and her two younger siblings. The second on is from a 2-year old (a likely story!!) who asks for clothing and toys and ends her letter this way:
'Please Santa make my wish come true. I will really apprecaite it. This will be the best gift ever for Christmas and for my birthday that's in December 11th and I'm turn 3. Thank you so much. I love you Santa. I wish you a merry, merry, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.'
I'm not sure how these people confused a beat off-off Broadway theatre with the North Pole-- perhaps it's the red facade?-- but these letters are too cute to be true.
Rain! Go away!
Now is the time!
Going way back, Thanksgiving (my GOD) was a lot of fun. It was great to be home-- I had been really looking forward to it and was so happy to be in my house, in my old room, with Slinky, with a real kitchen, with a bathroom that doesn't make me into a rageaholic every time I try to take a shower. Most of the extended family was there and I was so happy to see them. Fun things included eating way too much, eating some more, verging on barfing a million times, antagonizing the Guba's dog, eating still MORE, and playing Balderdash with a combination of people who didn't understand the rules, people who understood but had no regard for the rules, very Christian people, drunk people, and people who didn't want to be playing.
A highlight was going, the day after T-giving, to The Newest Lunch in Schenec and 'secretly' 'flirting' with all the guys who work there. This has been going on for approximately six years. They must know. There are a lot of them; Ange is my main crush. When he says "Hey, how you been?" twice a year, my heart goes pitter-pat. My family makes fun; but my crush on the hotdog man is all real. Some day! I'll tell him my love. Until then....I'll take one with everything.
After Thanksgiving, my insanity incread 450% because time started to run out before MY READING. Which happened two days ago. In the week leading up to Tgiving, I spent a minimum of four hours at Cafe Grumpy in Greenpoint, scraping together change to buy cups of coffee, ripping my hair out and doing a lot of agonizing over the three words I'd manage to write. I didn't do a lick of work over Thanksgiving. When I got back to New York, I realized that the new draft still didn't have an ending and that I was in big trouble. However-- I put one together, the folks at La Mama assembled a cast, and we made it through the to day of the rehearsal. I had only a few nervous breakdowns along the way.
And then it was Tuesday, my birthday, and the day of the reading. It's easy to guilt people into coming to a reading that they wouldn't necessarily come to when it's ALSO your birthday, I have to say. My parents were there, as well a many, many of my wonderful friends from all different places-- work, school, shows, etc. I can't imagine having another birthday when I might have so many people that I like in one place. The reading went as well as I could have hoped it to go. I was pleased. And a wreck. I wrang my hands, bit my nails, and compulsively took off and put on my sweater during it. I was flushed and my heart was beating out of my chest. I haven't been so worked up in a long, long time. It felt good. At the end, I was brought onstage while people sang happy birthday, which embarassed me to no end, and which made me turn even redder. Then there was a short, relatively painless talkback in which I attempted to walk the line between charmingly self-deprecating and impressively cool. Uh, I think we can all guess which one I veered more towards. Talkbacks are the devil. The only good part was the lights glinting off my sweet kicks. I liked that.
Some folks went out for drinks afterwards, and I had a great, great time laughing and drinking and eating cookies (my mom made some shaped like Lincoln-- do you see where I get it?). My parents gave me too many presents, including a pair of saddle shoes. They are fucking awesome. (I had a fit last night at the pizza place by my apartment when Nitz and I spotted a hipster girl at the next table wearing a pair. I was like 'NO! This was going to be MY style! How dare the hipsters co-opt it already?!)
So, now I'm 23, have cool shoes, and know that I have a lot of really awesome friends. That's good.
I think I'm slowly crashing from the nervousness/excitement of the past few weeks. The proof? I slept about 12 hours last night and spent today in bed, watching Arrested Development. Indeed. Painting my nails was my biggest accomplishment.
I don't know what's next for me. I know now for sure, though I've known it before, that though it makes me insane, I'm definitely WAY better off when I'm working really hard on something. I should do something new.
We'll see.
Christmas is coming up soon, which I can't believe. Despite attempts not to, I'm falling into the trap and getting stressed out about it.
In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of his finest roles, I need to "CHILL."
Finally: We've gotten two letters to Santa here at work. The first one was from a girl who was writing on behalf of herself and her two younger siblings. The second on is from a 2-year old (a likely story!!) who asks for clothing and toys and ends her letter this way:
'Please Santa make my wish come true. I will really apprecaite it. This will be the best gift ever for Christmas and for my birthday that's in December 11th and I'm turn 3. Thank you so much. I love you Santa. I wish you a merry, merry, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.'
I'm not sure how these people confused a beat off-off Broadway theatre with the North Pole-- perhaps it's the red facade?-- but these letters are too cute to be true.
Rain! Go away!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
