ceebeegee: (Default)
I was going to give a long account of the past week or so, which was very good, but like pretty much everyone else I'm stunned by the loss of Robin Williams, and it's what I've been thinking about all day.

I can remember his career going all the way back to Mork and Mindy--I was in 6th grade when that came out and it was a big hit. I remember being so aware of that show I wrote a short story and named a character Morkimonia (who was otherwise not at all like Mork--not an alien, for example) and got twitted by my teacher for unoriginality. (I wrote a makeup story about a girl who couldn't fall asleep one night because it was too hot so she held her breath to make herself pass out.) I remember those rainbow suspenders everyone wore, that was from M&M. (God, did we love rainbow-anything in the late '70s/early '80s.)

And Dead Poet's Society! To this day that movie gets me. That gorgeous cinematography, the liberal quoting of so many of my favorite poets. That magnificent ending, when Neil struggles to do what is right and finally surges to his feet and onto the desk, knowing it will mean his expulsion. And the other boys joining him (including the one who'd written the doggerel "the cat sat on the mat" earlier) as that brave Scottish music swells louder and louder, drowning out the obnoxious teacher as he impotently tries to get them off the desks. And that last perfect shot from Keating's POV, looking up at these young men, now grown. I'm struggling not to cry right now. I just love that movie. I love its message, its themes and actors, its lushness and its beauty and its heartbreak.

It's interesting to note how many times in his work Williams confronts or deals with suicide. Neil in DPS kills himself; What Dreams May Come also dealt with suicide and the Oscar-nominated songwriter for Good Will Hunting, Elliott Smith (he wrote "Miss Misery") also killed himself.

Good Will Hunting
Hook
the Birdcage
Aladdin--oh, so upsetting. My favorite movie of the Disney Renaissance, and he was a huge reason why.

And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

These are what we stay alive for.

Make your lives extraordinary.

Thank you, Genie. thank you.
ceebeegee: (soccer)
So, moar soccer this past weekend. Played with the Saturday group in da Bronx and scored twice again--the second goal was kind of cool, one of my teammates looped a pass over 3-4 opponents to me and I one-touched it into the goal. Everyone (including the opposing team) congratulated me! I like that group because it's FREE and there seem to be enough players showing up regularly that it's a nice big group (which means it's mostly full field). Plus everyone seems cool. Plus it's FREE.

Sunday my Dolphman team (my league team) had a game and it was FUCKING FREZZING OUT. In the 20s with WIND. We were actively rooting--praying, even--for the game to be cancelled but luckily it wasn't because the other team didn't have enough players so we got the forfeit. We had to push for it though--I saw that four of their mandated 7 players wore red--the red team in this league is in first place, they're like a family of amazing soccer players and we've already had our asses handed to them. I objected to the ref saying hey, we've played them already, if yellow doesn't have enough players then they should forfeit. So finally yellow (grudgingly) agreed then we played for fun and honestly, everyone had a great time! We played quite well as a team--set up well and passed well and got off TONS of shots. And I SCORED, my third Dolphman goal of the season! (Cutely the whole team was excited, including all the guys--Vlady, our huge defender, came up and slapped my hand.) (I know it must be annoying that I gloat so much about scoring but I remind you that I'm ELDERLY compared to these guys--everyone on the field is at least 10-15 years younger than I am.) That's the first time I've ever scored three times within one league season, so I was super-thrilled. Again, league goals are rarer (I score all the time in pickup games)--teams that play with each other regularly are better, plus they have dedicated goalies whereas in pickup everyone switches off as goalie.

Afterward we were completely freezing so no one was in the mood for beer. BUT--after we split up into little groups, my group saw Cameron Diaz pass us in the crosswalk! Both Adam and I stared at each other, then back at her, and then broke out into excited conversation.
ceebeegee: (Straighties)
So Tony Curtis just died. And the first thing I think of is that he refused to see Brokeback Mountain but voted against it for the Oscar anyway. And bragged about it. And claimed other Academy members felt the same way. Assclown.

The other thing I remember was when he was promoting his book back in--the late '90s? And he was on Letterman or some show like that, and retelling something from the book, about how he'd visited Elvis Presley in Las Vegas, and walked into Elvis's dressing room and found Ann-Margret [ACCORDING TO HIM, take with a grain of salt] "on her knees on front of Elvis giving him a very convincing hello" or some such creepy, smirky nonsense like that. I couldn't stand him after that. It just seemed so ungentlemanly. Look guys, those of you who claim to be straight (you have to wonder with someone like Curtis, he tries so hard to convince you of what a womanizer he is), we all know you like blow jobs and none of you would turn one down. So why you treat the women who actually give them to you like they're garbage? You can't simultaneously tut-tut and leer.

For a much worse example of this sort of thing, I'm terribly saddened by this poor Rutgers student, whose roommate set up a web cam to film him having sex--*gasp, clutch pearls*--with a MAN. And bragged about it on Twitter. And then the poor guy killed himself. FUCK. According to this link, he may or may not have actually broadcast it (and I still have no idea why the girl is being charged, I haven't heard that she did anything) but still WTF. That poor, poor guy. A talented violinist, with beautiful reddish-blonde hair, a young guy with everything to look forward to. Rest in peace, Tyler.

What with that and all these other sad, sad stories of young gay men killing themselves, it just seems to be a dark time right now.
ceebeegee: (Rome)
This past weekend was busy--I had rehearsal Saturday morning, softball, and then a baby shower in Toms River for New Jersey and then NEWS. Rehearsal went fine, although I found out that our darling Luke, our Demetrius, will not be able to do the show because he broke his arm. The replacement seems cool but I love Luke! After rehearsal I went over to Pinkberry--I was sitting there, nomming on my Original with Cap'n Crunch and blackberries, when a guy walked in with a woman and two kids. My gaze drifted over him and I thought "he kind of looks like Kelsey Grammer but I thought his hair was darker?" When he said something, I realized it WAS he! He and the other three sat at the table next to me, which had only three chairs--he asked if he could have the free chair at my table, I said "of course." I'm so shy around celebrities, for several reasons--the main one is that I don't want to bother them. The guy's out with his family, let him have a nice time, don't pester him. The only celebrity I'd ever say anything to would be someone whose work I really admire and follow--Kelsey Grammer is a fine comedian, he was perfect in Cheers, but it's not as though I watched Frasier obsessively every single week. Another reason is that I think celebrities have so much weird energy fixated on them--somebody's always coming up to them for something, an autograph, a photograph, validation, whatever. Someone's always trying to get a reaction out of them. And then they sell the story to TMZ. I can't stand this when it's just a random guy on the street, I can't imagine how annoying this would be times a million. I just leave 'em alone. Also, this is New York, and you just can't fawn over celebrities. It's not cool. (In that way it's like the Vineyard--I saw plenty of them there as well, albeit they were more erudite--Art Buchwald, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Bill Clinton (well, my aunt and uncle met--and had dessert with--the Bill, not me :) But for all my shyness, it's still exciting!

Whaaaaat a game! )

After the game, I had just enough time to run home, feed the babies, and run back down to Port Authority for the bus down to Toms River. This was fun--I got to talk to Lori's dad at the shower, who for some reason really likes me and always makes a point of talking to me about history after I burned his ears off last Thanksgiving going on about Henry VIII's wives. I was telling him about my class.

Eeeeeeeeeehhhh!!! )

And Amy is coming to see Thyme! She was a great TA, I hope she likes the show. I'm also inviting some other Columbia friends to the show who've asked about it--they know me as Hermione, just WAIT until I blow their mind as an androgynous, skinny, wood fairy who puts a girdle 'round the earth! Interesting though, I've been reading on the Times site about the horrors of student debt--I'm so behind the times, I had no idea private lenders lent out money to students and had variable rates. For some reason I thought this was a much more regulated market--some of these stories are scary, it sounds like debt bondage. Very glad I've been so cautious about my financial plan so far (1-2 classes at a time, etc.).
ceebeegee: (Default)
I got a pedicure last night and as I was sitting there in the chair, the TV was of course broadcasting "news" about MJ's funeral. Okay, fine--I'm not interested but a lot of people are, and whatever. But they kept playing over and over that little girl's words to her father. I read an interesting article the other day that put that incident in some perspective although I don't agree with all the author's conclusions. For instance I don't think her aunts' support was staged, and I don't think her address was staged--I think she HAD to say something, she had to put her feelings out there. And that's entirely appropriate--she and her brothers are the ones who are suffering the most from this. But it really bothers me that WE all heard this, that now this little one's heartfelt words of farewell to her father now belong to the ages. That's just too private. They kept replaying it last night--I must have heard it at least three times. I don't want to have that kind of intimate knowledge about that poor little kid, it just feels like it's adding to the damage. It's none of my business, and I guess I wish the family had said "why don't you say this at the private service, honey?"

I have to say, the little girl and her older brother are GORGEOUS, weird names and all.
ceebeegee: (Default)
...and someone for whom I have much less mixed feelings--the beautiful and talented Farrah Fawcett. May she rest in peace, beautiful lady. This woman was an icon, in every sense, in the '70s--EVERYONE had that poster. It was so ubiquitous, my mother bought my brother and me each our own copies, which we thought was cool. And then when Charlie's Angels started--we all idolized her. My girlfriends and I would play Charlie's Angels--since my friend Beth was the coolest, she got to play Jill (the Farrah character) and I had to play Kelly, until I finally pointed out that I was the blonde! Luckily Beth had a sense of fairplay. But I wanted to get the same car Jill had--a white Cobra. And we all tried to skateboard like she did in the show. I even had Charlie's Angels trading cards. She was the epitome of All-American, casual gorgeousness and we all wanted to be just like her. (If you can believe it, she visited the small town in New Hampshire where my father was living, and I got my hair cut at the same salon later on--I bragged about that incessantly. Her visit to that town was a HUGE deal.)

She did Wella Balsam ads, until she started her own line of shampoos, which sometimes my parents bought for me as a treat. And in addition to the Charlie's Angels doll set, there was also a Farrah doll--which, yes, I also got. I remember the hair was all floofy like hers (like Jennifer Aniston's "Rachel" cut after Friends hit big, everyone wanted the "Farrah" cut as well, with "wings"!). And the doll had fingernails, which was a first for one of my dolls (Barbie doesn't have long fingernails). And the jingle went

Who's the doll with the head of golden hair?
Farrah!
The doll with the face so pretty, so fair?
Farrah!
(Interlude of people wailing in honor of said doll)
Farrah! Farrah we love you!


Enough ads of these during the afternoon hours and my parents didn't have a chance--they HAD to get it for me.

And then after all that--she reinvented herself as a strong actor. The Burning Bed is a great movie--everyone's great but she carries it. Watch the hopeless way she says the line "Somethin' awful's gonna happen." Watch that, and then watch her as Diane Downs, who tried to murder her own children. Oh, she is so CREEPY as DD, so...trying too hard to be normal, she does a terrific job. And she took over the role of Marjorie in Extremities, a difficult role, very intense and physical.

Rest in peace, beautiful lady...
ceebeegee: (Spring!)
I'm still stuck in neutral on the Virginia Tech story (I wore maroon and orange today for them) but have y'all seen this?

The guy clearly has some serious anger issues. I can't *imagine* talking to an 11-year-old like that, much less his own daughter. Although I also think whoever leaked it, should not have--it will only make her reconcilation with her dad that much more difficult. Poor kid.
ceebeegee: (Please!)
Okay, so apparently there are lots of rumors floating about the 'Net about Tiny Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes and their "baby." I say this, because it seems quite a few believe either 1) she is not pregnant or B) she is pregnant but it's Chris Klein's baby. Quelle scandale!

This is the picture that started it all:



Now does that look like a fetus to you? No, it does not. That looks like a pillow stuck down in her dress, as though she's...already given birth but is hiding it, for some reason.

Now, this picture was taken when she first announced when she was pregnant back in October:



She was, at the most, 3 months along then, according to the official line (that is, that Tom is the father via Hot Manly Heterosexual Sex). And she looks like THAT? Seems awfully far along for three months...

On my message board, the discussion went from whether or not Honey Katie is actually pregnant to general musings on TTC. Someone called TTC "Toothy McNotGay" which is AWESOME. And then someone else posted a quotation from an article:

(from AP) Tom Cruise enjoys a "spectacular" sex life with his pregnant fiancee Katie Holmes, because they have such good communications skills. The Hollywood actor reveals his sex secrets in the May issue of GQ magazine, declaring the physical act is a "by-product" of a successful pairing. Cruise enthuses, "Sex is about the connection. Great sex is a by-product, for me, of a great relationship, where you have communication and it's an extension of that. Where it's just free. And that's how it should be. It's spectacular. If you're not in good communication with your partner, it sucks. (Meaningless sex outside of a relationship) is really horrible and pathetic and lonely."

And then she commented,

How is it that Tom makes even fairly reasonable statements sound extra-crazy? It's like all the words that come out of his mouth go through an Insanifier first.

(Is the Insanifier sort of like the Babelfish?)

And then someone else responded (to the "Where it's just free" TTC statement):

Free sex sure beats paying those male prostitutes. And then paying them some more to keep quiet. And then paying the hitmen when the male prositutes just don't know how to keep their traps shut.

Man. Poor Katie. WEIRD.
ceebeegee: (Helen of Troy)
While walking up 8th Avenue, I saw Matthew Broderick riding his bike, going through the intersection I was about to cross.
ceebeegee: (Massachusetts foliage)
My Mom was here this weekend--she arrived on Thursday and left yesterday. She had foot surgery this summer and is still recovering so we couldn't do as much walking around as we would've liked. I especially wanted to take her to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum but it wasn't to be this time. We did go to several restaurants--we hit the Delta Grill on 9th Avenue the first night, which I knew she'd love. Friday night we went to McHale's where we've been before--we-all must go there at least twice more before the end of the year before they close. *sob* She spent Saturday with my brother--I love Bart but every time we get together it always seems to involve a long-ass train ride for me and I simply wasn't in the mood. I don't understand why he always has some reason why he can't be the one to travel.

Anyway, Saturday night I went to see Paula and Duncan in Measure for Measure which I thoroughly enjoyed. First off I loved the aesthetics of the production--it looked so sexy and smoky, and I loved all the music. It was very well-cast also--the Duchess and (male) Isabeal were excellent, especially her, and Angelo was also great. Of course I also loved Dundan and Paula--Paula had some very nice moments as the Provost. Really not one weak link in the show. It got me thinking about the difficulties of M4M--the central conflict is that Isabel doesn't want to sleep with Angelo to save her brother's (sister's, in this case) life, which is a difficult conceot for the modern audience--well, any audience really. Isabel's objections have a lot to do with who she is, and not her time or whatever--she's a postulant and has very strong ideas about the integrity of her sexuality/body/"virtue." We have a tendency to dismiss Isabel's objections--"why won't she give it up to save her brother? It's no big deal." But that's assuming the sex would be no big deal--if the Angelo is a sadistic fuck and it's all about power and debasement and not just a harmless romp in the sheets, it's a huge deal. I don't know if I could sleep with, say, Uday Hussein to save my brother. In this production the Angelo was pretty damn creepy--he really seemed to get off on humiliating Isabeal, so his refusal made sense to me.

I also wanna know when was the casting notice for women who enjoy frolicking around in their lingerie? How did I miss that one? Damn.

At one point the Constable "noticed" the audience and pointed his baton accusingly at all of us and I giggled, thinking it was like the end of Act I of Hair where the police come out and arrest the audience. He swiveled to me, and a little while later called me up and likewise arrested me, by tying my hands. Another audience member and I were hauled onto stage and made to kneel during a scene, while the "Pimp" (Pompey) looked me up and down and said sotto voce "Dost thou need a job?" I smiled and said "Nay" and then, in response to a line of the Constable's "Art thou truly a whoremaster?"

Sunday my Mom and I went to brunch at the Galaxy. We were sitting by the big semi-circle window and I was people-watching along the sidewalk. A couple came in and sat down next to us--I looked at the guy and gestured to my Mom, and said to the guy "Aren't you Anthony Mackie?" He looked caught and said "...Yeeees?" I said "I used to live with Tracie up in Harlem! I was Ryan's friend!" He was like "Oh man! How are you?" I've talked about Anthony before--he was Tracie Thoms's BF when I loved with her and they both went to Juilliard. The nicest guy--he always gets cast as bad guys but he's so sweet. He's the one who said "We should get a cat. Tracie's roommate has the cutest cat" about Tatiana. And now both their careers have totally taken off--she's Joanne in Rent and he's been doing tons of movie work (Papa Doc in 8 Mile, the sparring partner bad guy in Million Dollar Baby, the lead in She Hate Me). We had a great conversation about Tracie and Ryan, and his family (he's from New Orleans and he and my Mom talked about that). Such a nice guy and I'm so stoked my Mom met him since we saw M$B together and I pointed him out. It seems every time my Mom visits, we run into some famous friend of mine! (In May of 2004 we saw Mark Hollman at Rachel's.)

Sunday evening we went down to the Village and walked around. We ended up eating at a cute lil' Thai place called isle, and then went to Marie's Crisis. Sunday is a GREAT evening to go there--there's a much smaller crowd and it's easy to get a seat at the bar. Mom and I had a blast--I knew she'd love it.
ceebeegee: (Me)
From Andrea Peyser's column in the Post:

"Speaking for myself and a few other" parents on the jury, she said, "what mother in her right mind would allow that to happen?

"To freely volunteer your child to sleep with someone?"

...I asked, incredulous -- You're saying you had more of a problem with the victim's mother for letting her child spend the night with Michael Jackson than you had with Michael Jackson actually sleeping with a child? To borrow the juror's own words -- What kind of mother excuses a grown man for sleeping with a small child?

"I'd like to comment on that," she said coyly. "But later on."

When, lady? When you sign your book deal?

...The juror had much to say say about bad behavior at Neverland...but none of her venom was aimed at Michael.

In fact, none of the jurors had much of anything to say about Michael at all.

"She came on very strong," the 45-year old juror complained about the accuser's mother.

Another woman, whom we dubbed "Aunt Bea" because of her gray bouffant, railed, "I disliked intensely when she snapped her fingers."

Then she spoke directly to the hated mother, "Don't snap your fingers at me, lady!" she said, to guffaws.

It went on like that. A Hispanic, male juror made fun of the mother, also Hispanic, for testifying, "This is how we do it in our culture."

"No, it's not!" the juror said, to more laughter.

They bonded on their hatred of the accuser's mother. With such a mother, they seemed to say, how could the boy actually be a victim?


I can't believe these stupid, stupid, petty, vicious, tittering morons are allowed to vote, much less serve on juries. Man, if ever anything made the case for vigilante justice, this is it--that boy got screwed twice, once by MJ, once by the legal system. I think I may actually see the merit in carrying a concealed weapon, and we all know what a proponent of gun control I am. God knows the jury system isn't going to protect you.

I feel sick.
ceebeegee: (Red Heather)
Fucking useless jurors:

But she and other jurors seemed to blame Jackson's accuser, and the accuser's mother, as much as Jackson. "Speaking for myself and other jurors, we thought, 'What parent in her right mind would allow that to happen? Not just [sleeping with] Michael Jackson, but anyone?' "

Um, helloooo?! Why would that be a danger if MJ is innocent? You just invalidated your "not guilty." Fucking stupid, stupid little famewhores, all smiling and happy now that they can be on CNN and get their book deals. They look like they've won the fucking lottery.



I hope they rot in hell. Along with MJ's nose.
ceebeegee: (that is not what I meant at all)
From the New York Times Boldface column:

We Have Heard the Olsens Singing, Each to Each

There was AN OLSEN TWIN a few rows ahead of us in the audience.

We know they have appeared in every nightclub and magazine in creation, including the recent spread in Foreign Policy, and that they generously dye their hair different colors for the media, but to paraphrase T. S. ELIOT, this is not Us Weekly, nor was it meant to be.

So do not ask, "Which is it?"

Let us go and make our visit...

Awesome!
ceebeegee: (Default)
Quick update: I picked up my mom this afternoon and we ended up going out to eat at Rachel's, a place on 9th Ave. We had a couple of drinks and ordered dinner and after awhile I looked up and saw Mark Hollman walking in--Mark Hollman with whom I worked in spring 2001 (I played George in the show he wrote for the Abigail Adams Museum, Fare for All--Mark Hollman who won the freakin' Tony Award for composing Urinetown). Yes, I know a Tony Award Winner. Me!

We chatted, blah blah blah what are you working on these days, blah blah blah. Thank God I spent time on my makeup before I went out (and looked skinny).
ceebeegee: (Default)
Thinking about Tony Randall's death. Okay, I loved the guy. I thought he was hilarious as Felix, and I loved how he had the cojones openly to say "Hell, yeah, Sidney's gay" when the network wouldn't. (I remembered both the original TV movie, and the subsequent series, Love, Sidney. Swoosie Kurtz played the mother in one, and Lorna Patterson in the other.) I've always respected his devotion to theater. But who has kids at 77? These kids are babies, 7 and 5, and their father is dead, a death which was entirely predictable. I hate to sound insensitive, but that's misguided. It's easy to say at least they knew him for that little amount of time," the whole "better to have loved and lost..." but losing a parent is devastating to a child. Although why does Nature allow situations like this? Why can a man sire children into old age, when women can't bear them past menopause?
ceebeegee: (Default)
While entering 30 Rock today, I passed the Olsen twins, surrounded by an entourage and reporters, leaving NBC.

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