Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tot-Couteur and My Thoughts Again on the Future
My family went out last night to see Mrs. Pigglewiggle at the Children's Theatre, which is an amazing institution - widely regarded at the premier one of its kind in the country. A special birthday gift for Lucy - we really love the ephemeral kind that ends up taking up shelf space only in your memories.
About a thousand people were in attendance, the production value was sky-high - quite spectacular, really, and a wonderful time was had by all. So here you have it; within a span of 10 days, my family experiencing both ends of the spectrum: the bad (if not the worst) and the good that is Urban Living.
Lucy, through her school and with her family, is getting exposed to such a wide array of experiences - and for that, I am so happy for her. Thus far, there's not any one activity she is particularly hooked on that couldn't be done on the backyard swing, snuggling on the couch, or at the kitchen table. So no ballet classes, soccer camps, or piano lessons for the time being; which is totally fine by us. But she knows there's a larger world out there and that's good enough for now.
On a side note - but related to the Children's Theatre: damn. damn damn damn. I was struck with such an intense feeling of "I should be doing that"/"I belong up there on that stage," that it still had a pretty strong hold on me after the show, while we were driving home with Lucy asleep in the back seat. I was waxing a little regretful at the childless years I didn't spend pursuing this particular field, and having those feelings mix wtih those of a growing restlessness my current "career," and Sharon reminded me that it's never too late. I couldn't pin her down on specifics, but we both tend to believe, quite unscientifically, that things happen for a reason. She wonders if my simultaneous growing unrest and re-inspiration in pursuing a future in the arts aren't totally unrelated. Perhaps more on that later.
About a thousand people were in attendance, the production value was sky-high - quite spectacular, really, and a wonderful time was had by all. So here you have it; within a span of 10 days, my family experiencing both ends of the spectrum: the bad (if not the worst) and the good that is Urban Living.
Lucy, through her school and with her family, is getting exposed to such a wide array of experiences - and for that, I am so happy for her. Thus far, there's not any one activity she is particularly hooked on that couldn't be done on the backyard swing, snuggling on the couch, or at the kitchen table. So no ballet classes, soccer camps, or piano lessons for the time being; which is totally fine by us. But she knows there's a larger world out there and that's good enough for now.
On a side note - but related to the Children's Theatre: damn. damn damn damn. I was struck with such an intense feeling of "I should be doing that"/"I belong up there on that stage," that it still had a pretty strong hold on me after the show, while we were driving home with Lucy asleep in the back seat. I was waxing a little regretful at the childless years I didn't spend pursuing this particular field, and having those feelings mix wtih those of a growing restlessness my current "career," and Sharon reminded me that it's never too late. I couldn't pin her down on specifics, but we both tend to believe, quite unscientifically, that things happen for a reason. She wonders if my simultaneous growing unrest and re-inspiration in pursuing a future in the arts aren't totally unrelated. Perhaps more on that later.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Victimized!
I would be remiss if I did not mention that we suffered the assholery of a car break-in last weekend.
Having lived 10 years in my current neighborhood as of this August, this is the first time we have experienced any crime upon our property; and, in the big scheme of things, this may have been as the result of me being a bit lazy. I'd finished doing some work in the garage (building some wood storage hanging units from the rafters), and just elected not to park the car in the garage. I left the stereo face on, and come CDs visible in a compartment between the front seat and in a visor sleeve. All of it added up to be, it seems, too irresistable a target for some ne'er-do-well who must've been out wandering in the dark, early hours of the A.M.
When I woke up last Monday morning and went out to the car, the driver's front window had been bashed in. The fool (for fool it was) had knocked out the vent unit above the stereo, but was unable to get the stereo. They had then ripped off the mirror I use to check on the well-being of my children in their carseats, then wrenched off the visor to get the CDs in it (rather then just unvelcro-ing the thing, which would have been easier and probably faster.
Considering they were hell-bent on doing everything in the most destructive manner possible, I incurred a surprisingly small amount of expense in this all. Actually, nothing at all, so far. Glass was totally covered. Vent console popped right back in. Visor has not been replaced, but that'll be pretty cheap at U-Pull-R-Parts, I would think. The only real "loss" (beyond my sense of innocence), was the CDs. Actually, only one pre-recorded CD, and the rest, home recordings.
If it hadn't been for the irreplaceable nature of the home recordings, it'd have made me smile to think of the look on the guy's face when he checked out his haul: Bird of Minnesota double CD set, a recording of the "Versati Scenes" from The Underpants I had for going through my lines, and at least three CDs of me playing acoustic guitar.
Having lived 10 years in my current neighborhood as of this August, this is the first time we have experienced any crime upon our property; and, in the big scheme of things, this may have been as the result of me being a bit lazy. I'd finished doing some work in the garage (building some wood storage hanging units from the rafters), and just elected not to park the car in the garage. I left the stereo face on, and come CDs visible in a compartment between the front seat and in a visor sleeve. All of it added up to be, it seems, too irresistable a target for some ne'er-do-well who must've been out wandering in the dark, early hours of the A.M.
When I woke up last Monday morning and went out to the car, the driver's front window had been bashed in. The fool (for fool it was) had knocked out the vent unit above the stereo, but was unable to get the stereo. They had then ripped off the mirror I use to check on the well-being of my children in their carseats, then wrenched off the visor to get the CDs in it (rather then just unvelcro-ing the thing, which would have been easier and probably faster.
Considering they were hell-bent on doing everything in the most destructive manner possible, I incurred a surprisingly small amount of expense in this all. Actually, nothing at all, so far. Glass was totally covered. Vent console popped right back in. Visor has not been replaced, but that'll be pretty cheap at U-Pull-R-Parts, I would think. The only real "loss" (beyond my sense of innocence), was the CDs. Actually, only one pre-recorded CD, and the rest, home recordings.
If it hadn't been for the irreplaceable nature of the home recordings, it'd have made me smile to think of the look on the guy's face when he checked out his haul: Bird of Minnesota double CD set, a recording of the "Versati Scenes" from The Underpants I had for going through my lines, and at least three CDs of me playing acoustic guitar.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The End of an Era (yay!)
That does it for that.This is all the more remarkable, since Sharon quit her job 17 months ago, and we've been making due with about $15,000 less in yearly take-home pay ever since. In a nickel-and-dime sense, I could list a few things we've been doing to cut back, but I honestly am at a loss for our ability to have paid off about $6,000 of credit card debt in just over a year.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Chaos Theory
It's late - maybe going to ramble on this, but...
The world is being run by advertisers.
Think a minute about how products are marketed - they are qualitatively defined, the full measure of truth and information about them are strategically sliced down to a brief space of time/space, and they are funded so as to be an ubiquitous reminder of what you should believe. Likely, this has had a lot more to do with our various associations and feelings about the products we buy than we - even we who would consider ourselves skeptics - would like to admit.
But what about what we understand about how the rest of the world works? Like "Directors of Brand Management" in the world of advertising, there are a lot of people pulling the strings in the much bigger and scarier world outside of product placement that stand only lose as a result of a wider dissemination of knowledge. Open up Yahoo! randomly and count the number of news stories suggesting you should be frightened of something (that you actually realize is statistically less of a threat than being hit by lightning), and then the number of "news" stories that are actually recounting events that transpired on a reality TV show from the previous night. What does this say about our appetite for information that puts us in greater touch with the world that affects us and those we should care about? Further, where does this seem to be leading us, as a people?
In a best case scenario (and a sad, sad "best case scenario" this is), this simply suggests that the masses are asses and tend to consume at the lowest common denominator. What I fear is that it's a concerted effort: Knowledge is power, and knowledge by everybody slows things down. When we're out of the loop; when we're kept fearful and frantic, or confounded to the point of apathy; or unable to distinguish between a genuine source of information or a unique selling proposition; that's when bastards could really make hay, couldn't they? That's when one of those qualitative, classic advertising pitches could really catch fire.
The world is being run by advertisers.
Think a minute about how products are marketed - they are qualitatively defined, the full measure of truth and information about them are strategically sliced down to a brief space of time/space, and they are funded so as to be an ubiquitous reminder of what you should believe. Likely, this has had a lot more to do with our various associations and feelings about the products we buy than we - even we who would consider ourselves skeptics - would like to admit.
But what about what we understand about how the rest of the world works? Like "Directors of Brand Management" in the world of advertising, there are a lot of people pulling the strings in the much bigger and scarier world outside of product placement that stand only lose as a result of a wider dissemination of knowledge. Open up Yahoo! randomly and count the number of news stories suggesting you should be frightened of something (that you actually realize is statistically less of a threat than being hit by lightning), and then the number of "news" stories that are actually recounting events that transpired on a reality TV show from the previous night. What does this say about our appetite for information that puts us in greater touch with the world that affects us and those we should care about? Further, where does this seem to be leading us, as a people?
In a best case scenario (and a sad, sad "best case scenario" this is), this simply suggests that the masses are asses and tend to consume at the lowest common denominator. What I fear is that it's a concerted effort: Knowledge is power, and knowledge by everybody slows things down. When we're out of the loop; when we're kept fearful and frantic, or confounded to the point of apathy; or unable to distinguish between a genuine source of information or a unique selling proposition; that's when bastards could really make hay, couldn't they? That's when one of those qualitative, classic advertising pitches could really catch fire.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Furthermore...
In addition to not being able to abide bottled water, I cannot/will not abide getting hot tea at a coffeeshop.
For whatever reason - I rarely (rarely!) am able to make coffee at home that is as good as coffee in a coffee shop. And I have yet to figure out exactly why (it may be because of the temperature of the water when it is being brewed).
But tea! C'mon! Order a green tea at Caribou and they give you a cup of hot water and a tea bag. And charge you about $2.
I've said all I need to say.
For whatever reason - I rarely (rarely!) am able to make coffee at home that is as good as coffee in a coffee shop. And I have yet to figure out exactly why (it may be because of the temperature of the water when it is being brewed).
But tea! C'mon! Order a green tea at Caribou and they give you a cup of hot water and a tea bag. And charge you about $2.
I've said all I need to say.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
The Daddy Daughter Day
We held off a day to wait for the weather to improve before taking a special birthday daddy-daughter day. Many more activities occurred, of course, but I had a camera along only for our exploits at French Regional Park and a stop for games & smoothies at Caribou on the way home.
Select shots below (I think I formatted these as "enlargeable").
Select shots below (I think I formatted these as "enlargeable").
Monday, April 07, 2008
Holy Cow...5
Lucy will be 5 tomorrow morning. Wow.
Beyond all the standard "where has the time gone" feelings, I am awash with a feeling of pride in my daughter, and a general sense of satisfaction in a job well done, so far.
I will also note that - though the transition from infancy to toddler was momentuous (pure stimulus-response to exploring boundaries, helpless to almost dangerous, non-talking to talking), the transition Lucy has gone through over the past year and a half - that of toddler to that of little girl - has been more amazing to witness. Here, anyway, is the entire progression over the past five years, encapsulated in five simple photos:
Lucy at 1. With an unfortunate shrunken-headed Easter Bunny.
Lucy at 2. Taking tea and toasting "To London!" and "To Monkeys!"
Lucy at 3. In front of the space heater.
At 4. With friend Riley and the best children's story reader in the world.
Lucy at 5. Curses! Do I really not have any pictures of me with her in the past month? Anway, here's her demonstrating some of her work at a recent visit I made to her school.
Happy Birthday, little girl!
Friday, April 04, 2008
(wakka wakka) I am Gandalf, and He is ME!!!
For quite some time, I've been looking forward to Lucy's 5th birthday (next Tuesday) as being her first major introduction to the world of Middle Earth; namely, with a viewing of the Rankin & Bass animated "classic," The Hobbit. Before the actual viewing, though, I wanted to sit down & do a parental pre-screening of the content.
What I remembered was a cute little hobbit running around and some nice songs. What I saw was some crazy-ass animation over a soundtrack with half the songs sounding like they were written and performed by Art Garfunkel, and the other half sounding like the people who put the music together for The Electric Company. The setting is the middle ages, but all I could think was: 1977, man.
With the exception of the Art Garfunkel-inspired songs, the whole thing was pretty dark, and the relatively simple message of the actual The Hobbit was buried in some pretty clumsy retelling of a lot of the individual escapades Bilbo weathers on his way towards The Lonely Mountain. Then there's the old thing (blogged, or at least spoken about before) about these far-eastern animators needing to brush up on their Western history, as they are drawing middle-ages-era people wearing sandles and robes; more The Ten Commandments than The Lord of the Rings. When the adventuring party came upon the men at Lake Town, I thought they'd stumbled across The Masada.
Alas - I may try to come across some of the movie stills on the web and do a dramatic retelling of the story via Powerpoint, with my own words and explanations. Then, read the book a couple of years down the line.
What I remembered was a cute little hobbit running around and some nice songs. What I saw was some crazy-ass animation over a soundtrack with half the songs sounding like they were written and performed by Art Garfunkel, and the other half sounding like the people who put the music together for The Electric Company. The setting is the middle ages, but all I could think was: 1977, man.
With the exception of the Art Garfunkel-inspired songs, the whole thing was pretty dark, and the relatively simple message of the actual The Hobbit was buried in some pretty clumsy retelling of a lot of the individual escapades Bilbo weathers on his way towards The Lonely Mountain. Then there's the old thing (blogged, or at least spoken about before) about these far-eastern animators needing to brush up on their Western history, as they are drawing middle-ages-era people wearing sandles and robes; more The Ten Commandments than The Lord of the Rings. When the adventuring party came upon the men at Lake Town, I thought they'd stumbled across The Masada.
Alas - I may try to come across some of the movie stills on the web and do a dramatic retelling of the story via Powerpoint, with my own words and explanations. Then, read the book a couple of years down the line.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Samantha Powers Was Right
Hillary Clinton IS a monster.
It's become a ridiculous charade: what will each new day bring? Will Hillary be making a "heartfelt" gesture of calling for party unity and a positive campaign? Or will she be making some new out-of-left-field, unsubstantiated charge against the Obama campaign? Hillary, just stop. Not because I worry about the divisiveness of a protracted primary campaign, but because you are starting to act like the mean-spirited, tactless political schemester your opponents have always accused you of being.
Besides, you are becoming as annoying as André Rieu.
It's become a ridiculous charade: what will each new day bring? Will Hillary be making a "heartfelt" gesture of calling for party unity and a positive campaign? Or will she be making some new out-of-left-field, unsubstantiated charge against the Obama campaign? Hillary, just stop. Not because I worry about the divisiveness of a protracted primary campaign, but because you are starting to act like the mean-spirited, tactless political schemester your opponents have always accused you of being.
Besides, you are becoming as annoying as André Rieu.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
I'm Not Paid to Write the Lyrics (and a public plea)
Anyone who follows my musical career (by choice, or incidentally), knows that tunesmithing is almost tantalizingly easy for me, but that writing lyrics is an unbelievable drag. I've written words to many songs that I'm pretty happy with, in retrospect (for the most part, songs post-college), but if anyone (outside Gibbs & Sharon) had any idea the extent to which I struggle, painfully, to get my thoughts coalesced into a non-cheesy, lyrical form, you would be amazed that I ever managed to finish anything at all.
The worst part of it is that, especially these days, inspiration is fleeting. The motivation to go down into the basement comes and goes (and is mostly gone). I need to be able to seize those golden moments and hammer the inspiration into reality. What's maddening is that I don't struggle for words at all in almost any other writing endeavor. But it is what it is. Just a bit ago, Sharon gave me a spate of time free to go down into the basement to sit down with pen & paper to come up with some words to got with this new song I'm writing - a song I'm more excited about (the musical basis, and the chorus) than any I've had cooking in recent memory: My Friends, the Brits. But here I am, an hour an a half later, with nothing to show for my time but some frustrated scribbling and my last free daylight hours for at least the next week or two flushed down the toilet. I have enough of an artistic sense to know really, really good words when I see them. And everything I was putting down on paper today was not it.
What to do? I can no longer waste any more time, especially when I am currently riding a wave of motivation to record. I must call on an old friend - my favorite lyricist (right up there with Paul Simon): P. Gibb! I need you! Please, will you write the words for My Friends, the Brits? Just based on the title alone, I think you know where I'm headed with this, but let's connect on the phone and talk it through a bit more (that is, if you think you're up to the task).
The struggling-with-lyrics thing; a significant enough issue in my life that I think a blog is long overdue. The public plea was something I thought I'd do for fun. But I am serious about it. Everyone else can watch this artistic collaboration come together first hand, and maybe even shed a wistful tear (or any kind of tear) thinking about the musical history of Pat & Dan.
The worst part of it is that, especially these days, inspiration is fleeting. The motivation to go down into the basement comes and goes (and is mostly gone). I need to be able to seize those golden moments and hammer the inspiration into reality. What's maddening is that I don't struggle for words at all in almost any other writing endeavor. But it is what it is. Just a bit ago, Sharon gave me a spate of time free to go down into the basement to sit down with pen & paper to come up with some words to got with this new song I'm writing - a song I'm more excited about (the musical basis, and the chorus) than any I've had cooking in recent memory: My Friends, the Brits. But here I am, an hour an a half later, with nothing to show for my time but some frustrated scribbling and my last free daylight hours for at least the next week or two flushed down the toilet. I have enough of an artistic sense to know really, really good words when I see them. And everything I was putting down on paper today was not it.
What to do? I can no longer waste any more time, especially when I am currently riding a wave of motivation to record. I must call on an old friend - my favorite lyricist (right up there with Paul Simon): P. Gibb! I need you! Please, will you write the words for My Friends, the Brits? Just based on the title alone, I think you know where I'm headed with this, but let's connect on the phone and talk it through a bit more (that is, if you think you're up to the task).
The struggling-with-lyrics thing; a significant enough issue in my life that I think a blog is long overdue. The public plea was something I thought I'd do for fun. But I am serious about it. Everyone else can watch this artistic collaboration come together first hand, and maybe even shed a wistful tear (or any kind of tear) thinking about the musical history of Pat & Dan.
Friday, March 21, 2008
February Movie Recap
(still in the wake of my reading of Dracula this past fall, my vampire movie research continues)
Bram Stoker's Dracula
1992
Rating: 7
Surprisingly faithful to the novel (hence title), however, cinematography was dolled up to the point of being downright distracting.. Some fine performances excepting that of Keanu Reaves, who was in way over his head here.
Clerks
1994
Rating: 7
Points for ambitious concept and ability to roll through a one and a half hour parade of goofballs interacting with convenience store clerks. Some genuinely hysterical moments, some groaners. Still trying to get my head around whether the crappy acting was at all intentional or just an aspect of the exceedingly low production value.
Bram Stoker's Dracula
1992
Rating: 7
Surprisingly faithful to the novel (hence title), however, cinematography was dolled up to the point of being downright distracting.. Some fine performances excepting that of Keanu Reaves, who was in way over his head here.
Clerks
1994
Rating: 7
Points for ambitious concept and ability to roll through a one and a half hour parade of goofballs interacting with convenience store clerks. Some genuinely hysterical moments, some groaners. Still trying to get my head around whether the crappy acting was at all intentional or just an aspect of the exceedingly low production value.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Wirelessless
So, the recap:
The guy from Wireless Minneapolisvisited yesterday morning and the long & short of it is that our weak signal was unrelated to the Vonage issue. Doing a test run on an antenna outside our house got us a super strong signal; however we were still unable to get the phone to operate normally, to the utter mystification of the tech. I have a theory that, since we were relatively early adopters of Vonage, we are working with something like a 1st-generation modem, without some of the bulit-in quality assurance technology, and that it is unable to comprehend the varying signal that is through-the-air. I could have potentially worked through Vonage to try and get an updated modem, but I'm not sure the extra hassle (extra days without phone service, and trying to work out something so Comcast didn't terminate our existing contract in the meantime) was worth a gamble on a theory based on nothing buy nearly undeducated speculation.
Wireless Minneapolis may roll out a package option to include internet phone sometime in another year or so. If so, I'm back in the game.
The guy from Wireless Minneapolisvisited yesterday morning and the long & short of it is that our weak signal was unrelated to the Vonage issue. Doing a test run on an antenna outside our house got us a super strong signal; however we were still unable to get the phone to operate normally, to the utter mystification of the tech. I have a theory that, since we were relatively early adopters of Vonage, we are working with something like a 1st-generation modem, without some of the bulit-in quality assurance technology, and that it is unable to comprehend the varying signal that is through-the-air. I could have potentially worked through Vonage to try and get an updated modem, but I'm not sure the extra hassle (extra days without phone service, and trying to work out something so Comcast didn't terminate our existing contract in the meantime) was worth a gamble on a theory based on nothing buy nearly undeducated speculation.
Wireless Minneapolis may roll out a package option to include internet phone sometime in another year or so. If so, I'm back in the game.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
January Movie Recap
Thought I'd take a cue from Mixx and start offering up movie thoughts - recapping a given month's viewings in a single post . It'll be pretty easy, as I'm just lifting the ones I'm already doing for Dan's Movies 2008. You guys in the "inner circle" will just get a sneak preview. Here's January, a little after the fact. Things started out on a slooow pace, owing to an incredibly busy start to the year; but I was fortunate to begin things on a streak of three straight "8s."
Silent Movie
1976
rating: 8
True, Mel Brooks has a weakness for working really hard on gags that don't advance the story, but I found this non-stop smorgasboard of laughs (some big, some small), refreshing and enjoyable; especially as I did not suffer so much as a single, unwelcomed and cheesy, "poignant moment."
Gilbert Goddfried: Dirty Jokes
2005
rating: 8
Laughs aplenty in this vulgar 49-minute capture of a small club show of the comedian, including an impressive, 12-minute version of infamous "The Aristocrats."
The Apartment
1960
rating: 8
Recalling a workday world setting that is dated but themes of skullduggery that are not, this Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine romantic comedy is compelling, involved, and - in the end - quite sweet.
Silent Movie
1976
rating: 8
True, Mel Brooks has a weakness for working really hard on gags that don't advance the story, but I found this non-stop smorgasboard of laughs (some big, some small), refreshing and enjoyable; especially as I did not suffer so much as a single, unwelcomed and cheesy, "poignant moment."
Gilbert Goddfried: Dirty Jokes
2005
rating: 8
Laughs aplenty in this vulgar 49-minute capture of a small club show of the comedian, including an impressive, 12-minute version of infamous "The Aristocrats."
The Apartment
1960
rating: 8
Recalling a workday world setting that is dated but themes of skullduggery that are not, this Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine romantic comedy is compelling, involved, and - in the end - quite sweet.
SPAM as Spoken Word
The cast....
Jenifer Grubbs and Luitpold Tarwater (intrepid reporters)
August Freudenburg (the absent-minded reporter)
Bartholomew Cordova (time-traveler)
Gladwyn Barreto (the hit-man)
Brock Bradshaw (the quarterback)
Luke Lathan (man about town)
Toby Cain (the "other man")
Dylan Potts (the struggling musician)
Bruno Colbert and Jake Martin (from the Motor-Cycle gang)
Simon Frye (wealthy financier)
Barton Bellamy (his driver)
Cooper Adams (anchorman)
Cornelia Neri (daughter of the prophesizer)
Gustavo Wolf (of the German Secret Police)
Young Beard (the hero)
and introducing...
Mitchel Starks (the autistic boy nobody notices)
Jenifer Grubbs and Luitpold Tarwater (intrepid reporters)
August Freudenburg (the absent-minded reporter)
Bartholomew Cordova (time-traveler)
Gladwyn Barreto (the hit-man)
Brock Bradshaw (the quarterback)
Luke Lathan (man about town)
Toby Cain (the "other man")
Dylan Potts (the struggling musician)
Bruno Colbert and Jake Martin (from the Motor-Cycle gang)
Simon Frye (wealthy financier)
Barton Bellamy (his driver)
Cooper Adams (anchorman)
Cornelia Neri (daughter of the prophesizer)
Gustavo Wolf (of the German Secret Police)
Young Beard (the hero)
and introducing...
Mitchel Starks (the autistic boy nobody notices)
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
It is What it Is.
In the four days since I've had it set up, my Wireless Minneapolis has been an unequivocable disaster. Our internet connection is usually there (but sometimes not), but the signal strength is too weak to support Vonage. We can make calls (except when we can't, and never from our handheld unit), but cannot receive them (except twice, and then only on the base unit).
We have a transmitter node a half block away and our antenna is about a foot from a window, angled right towards it. My steel siding should not be an issue, according to the most recent tech to whom I've spoken. According to all of them, my connection speed should just be "screaming," but - in fact - it is like a limp dick.
In my last couple of calls in, I've tried to impress upon them the difficulty of leading a normal life when unable to receive phone calls at home. And I have two more days until Comcast sends out some fucker to terminate our connection to them. In one last-ditch effort to try and keep me as a subscriber, Wireless Minneapolis is going to send out a tech Thursday morning to try and see if an externally-mounted antenna will do the trick. They claim a 98% success rate when such odd cases as mine are “escalated.”
I’ll still believe this one when I see it.
From doctors to tech service people to financial advisors, I have a long history of being told: “Now THAT’s a new one.” For me, in issues ranging from foot care to routing numbers to just plain expecting a CD-ROM to work, abnormality is the norm. At this point – and really since about age 16 – I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Amazing. Transformative, almost. The journey begins?
(pretty much transcribed from an email to Mixx earlier to-day)
Amazing. Transformative for me, almost.
Last I saw the final two parts of a three-part series on PBS called "Walking the Bible," in which the host, a guy by the name of Bruce Feiler, traces the path of the Israelites during their exodus out of Egypt during the five books of Moses in the Old Testament. But that doesn't do the program, or its effect on me, justice.
Perhaps it was the peaceful, meditative atmosphere surrounding the viewing (Rose fell asleep in my lap in a darkened living room. I didn't want to risk setting her down anywhere & waking her up, so I just hung out there in the dark until I decided to flip on the tv). But - and I've mentioned this before - I sometimes am awe-inspired by the character of religious antiquity. The permanence and history of of some of the places & cultures this guy visited was pretty amazing. I found it interesting, the transformative (to use the word) journey Feiler went through in writing the book/doing the film. Some interesting stuf fif you happen to want to read an interview with him: http://www.pbs.org/walkingthebible/interview.html He sums up his experience with "The story of Walking the Bible for me is that I went inlooking for science, and came out craving meaning, in a nutshell."
I've been so utterly turned off by almost every religious instance I have observed in the world over the past few years, that I've pretty much closed myself off to even being open to an opportunity for my own religious experience. He doesn't exactly come out of the experience saying that his faith in such and such religion has been confirmed, but just that - going into this incredibly stark environment, in the midst of these powerfully moving symbols that are at the root of these religions, you are suddenly able to let go of various rational pieces of your brain and open yourself up to something higher. Don't freak out - I'm not joining a revivalist congregation of any sort any time soon. But I think this whole thing about me being turned offon religion has made me deny a certain aspect of my being, which is thatI still crave a sort of meaning that is beyond that which I can touch and see and examine in a peer-reviewed scientific study. And I found myself, at the end of the viewing, with this sort of "journey" suddenly back on the radar, where before it was not. Wow - this is the power of public media in action, huh?
In any event, a viewing of all three parts in one sitting is currently on the agenda, and the book is definitely going in the GoodReads queue.
I also hope Mixx will post his own perception-altering experience he shared in response to my original email.
Amazing. Transformative for me, almost.
Last I saw the final two parts of a three-part series on PBS called "Walking the Bible," in which the host, a guy by the name of Bruce Feiler, traces the path of the Israelites during their exodus out of Egypt during the five books of Moses in the Old Testament. But that doesn't do the program, or its effect on me, justice.
Perhaps it was the peaceful, meditative atmosphere surrounding the viewing (Rose fell asleep in my lap in a darkened living room. I didn't want to risk setting her down anywhere & waking her up, so I just hung out there in the dark until I decided to flip on the tv). But - and I've mentioned this before - I sometimes am awe-inspired by the character of religious antiquity. The permanence and history of of some of the places & cultures this guy visited was pretty amazing. I found it interesting, the transformative (to use the word) journey Feiler went through in writing the book/doing the film. Some interesting stuf fif you happen to want to read an interview with him: http://www.pbs.org/walkingthebible/interview.html He sums up his experience with "The story of Walking the Bible for me is that I went inlooking for science, and came out craving meaning, in a nutshell."
I've been so utterly turned off by almost every religious instance I have observed in the world over the past few years, that I've pretty much closed myself off to even being open to an opportunity for my own religious experience. He doesn't exactly come out of the experience saying that his faith in such and such religion has been confirmed, but just that - going into this incredibly stark environment, in the midst of these powerfully moving symbols that are at the root of these religions, you are suddenly able to let go of various rational pieces of your brain and open yourself up to something higher. Don't freak out - I'm not joining a revivalist congregation of any sort any time soon. But I think this whole thing about me being turned offon religion has made me deny a certain aspect of my being, which is thatI still crave a sort of meaning that is beyond that which I can touch and see and examine in a peer-reviewed scientific study. And I found myself, at the end of the viewing, with this sort of "journey" suddenly back on the radar, where before it was not. Wow - this is the power of public media in action, huh?
In any event, a viewing of all three parts in one sitting is currently on the agenda, and the book is definitely going in the GoodReads queue.
I also hope Mixx will post his own perception-altering experience he shared in response to my original email.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Area Premiere: A Mini Serial. Post 4: Takin 'er Home
Where all is well that ends well, except in that Dan is UPSTAGED!!!
So, by Tuesday of the week before the final performance, we were about 10 tickets from selling out for both final shows. The pre-pay option was removed from our website, and the message on our box-office voicemail was changed to announce a sellout. We wanted to keep aside 10 tickets for walk-ups, as well as give ourselves some wiggle room were we to run into a last minute event (such as - hey - Dan's parents decided they could come up!). And, indeed, though my parents had originally said they would "..."not be able to make it because Mystic Lake is sold out" (true story, exact quote), an 11th hour epiphany brought them up Minneapolis way.
Then, the final night. And it was one to remember. Again, sold out house. And, for those keeping score, that meant we ended our nine-play run on a five sellout streak. Outside of the "Guthries" of this scene, that's pretty uncommon in Twin Cities. There's just so many goddamned theatres. Being part of the company made it all the more special. All these talented theatre folks from throughout the area (well, most from Uptown), many of whom we'd like to see on our stage in the future, are having one of their most positive acting experiences ever, right on our stage. It definitely all bodes well for the future of the company.
This, the final post of the Mini-Serial.
Bittersweet, indeed, as the final weekend of performances came about. Bitter, of course, since a period of intense involvement with a very small group of individuals over a two-month period was coming to a close. Sweet, (equally) of course, because a period of time in which I was - ah - not 100% there for my family was also coming to a close.
Anyone who has put this kind of time into a play understands how tightly-knit a cast and crew can become when all is said and done. Amazing - how well you feel you know these individuals by the end of it all. Without a doubt I felt more comfortable with this lot than I generally do around the people I work with. Some of that has to do with the fact that we're thrown into a position where we're working towards a collective goal that we all believe in passionately (as opposed to working towards a goal which is a joke on the human race). But almost certainly, a lot of it has to do with the simple fact that I am in a group of people with who are simply more my type of people.
So, by Tuesday of the week before the final performance, we were about 10 tickets from selling out for both final shows. The pre-pay option was removed from our website, and the message on our box-office voicemail was changed to announce a sellout. We wanted to keep aside 10 tickets for walk-ups, as well as give ourselves some wiggle room were we to run into a last minute event (such as - hey - Dan's parents decided they could come up!). And, indeed, though my parents had originally said they would "..."not be able to make it because Mystic Lake is sold out" (true story, exact quote), an 11th hour epiphany brought them up Minneapolis way.Just about every possible seat that could be squeezed out was gone by Friday night, and we were to be facing the "rush line" (the group of walk-ups who wait around to see if reservations don't show up). Which makes it all the more remarkable that Aaron walked right in and got a seat. Still not quite sure what happened there, but I'm so glad he came. "Ha ha funny comments" he may leave after this post notwithstanding, he can now attest to the fact that this whole theatre thing is not a ruse.
Friday night went well - without a hitch and energy level was high. I actually had more people I knew at the show that night (a couple of co-workers, a group of Sharon's old friends as well as both her sisters, and a few of other people who left before I changed and came out from backstage). Magical night. Invigorating, performance. Especially, in front of people I know.
Then, the final night. And it was one to remember. Again, sold out house. And, for those keeping score, that meant we ended our nine-play run on a five sellout streak. Outside of the "Guthries" of this scene, that's pretty uncommon in Twin Cities. There's just so many goddamned theatres. Being part of the company made it all the more special. All these talented theatre folks from throughout the area (well, most from Uptown), many of whom we'd like to see on our stage in the future, are having one of their most positive acting experiences ever, right on our stage. It definitely all bodes well for the future of the company.Anyway - things were going gangbusters. By this time, I've got my lines so much on autopilot that I can really explore every little nook and cranny of doing just what I want to with my character. Then - as we're just getting into this scene in which my character is supposed to be woo-ing the female lead, I hear a titter from the crowd. As an actor, my focus is bomb-proof. I can blow through this, continue my lines and not let the faintest shadow of any uncertainty cross my face. But inside, I'm starting to wonder "huh? What's going on?" The titter becomes laughter, and suddenly I'm thinking, "OK, my fly is down. I have a booger on my face. My acting is so laughable, they just want me to leave." Yet, the focus and performance continues. Yes, it's a comedy, but - understand - this is not a comedic scene.
That's when I hear the meow. OK...some background. About three weeks into rehearsal, a particularly friendly cat wandered up to a group of us hanging around outside the building, smoking. Long story short: he was adopted by Duane (the guy who owns the facility and is also a company member), and now he lives right there in the building. It was an ongoing "cat-and-mouse game" (so to speak), to make sure he was never able to slip through any of the main three stage doors and get backstage (as, desperately, he wanted to). We wanted to make sure he couldn't make mischief in the prop area and - more importantly - we needed him out before the house opened. At that point, he needed to be locked away in an office for the duration of the show.
Well...on this final night, the box office folks let him wander about in the lobby during the final half of the show. That's when a woman, feeling ill, got up and rushed out of the theatre. And - of course - the cat rushed in.
So here I am, telling the female lead that I have a plan as to how we can be together that night. "I will take Theo out to the boulevard, get him drunk, and return alone..." And at that moment, a gray tail flicked in front of my face. As I was later to find out, this cat was sitting up on the stage stove setpiece, eating a sausage out of a pan.
Different schools of theatre could debate this next moment to the end of time.
The method folks will credit my focus, lauding my ability to not direct my focus for one second away from the scene. For, I never saw the cat, but for the tail. And I also never saw exactly who it was that slipped in, not one foot away from me, and scooped the cat away (though I heard the good natured applause). I thought it was Duane. It was the director, Chris.
All the improvisation folks will chastise and ridicule me for not seizing upon the most Carol Burnett Show-like moment I may ever have the fortune to have bestowed upon me. Imagine how this delightful tale might have turned into the most impeccably delivered comedic moment of my life, had I simply stopped talking mid-sentence, paused, flashed Lindsay (the actress opposite me) a calm set of raise eyebrows, reached over and given the cat a pet, then continued the scene.
Was it a triumph of focus? Or a failure to think on one's feet? Alas, it will go down in my annals (two "n"s, here folks, calm down) of my "might-have-been"s along with that 10+ lb muskie that bit through my fishing line when I was 14 years old.
Classic ending to a classic run of the show, however. After it was done, it was slam bam thank you ma'am, and the set was down and strike party on. I'd pretty much done enough partying to last me for about a six year run of Tony & Tina's Wedding, so I acted with my hoped-for level of discretion and left at a modest 12:30 am. All's well that ends well. I got some acting out of my system, and I'm hopefully ready to pursue some other facets of my life with increased vigor.
Peace out.
Monday, February 18, 2008
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