Ain't this nice?


Please to get this for me!

"Dame Judi put out my eye in a bar-fight!"

So, my biggest concern right now is directing a production of Henry V at La Chasseur college. Somehow (black magic, I think) the Theatre Dept there picked it up as one of their main stage shows for this semester. Which puts me at the head of a show with a budget of -- well, I oughtn't to reveal the exact budget, but it's along the lines of a reasonably-priced economy car.
We did a workshop version of it last Decemeber in a rehearsal space (imagine the theatrical version of the rough draft of an English paper). I'm very excited, really. We've got some really wonderful actors and many more students who are willing to work hard, but it's all a bit... exacting?
We've had a number of actors drop out (read "Run screaming for the hills..."), but I can just maintain the belief that they're lazy bastards unfit for doing the work of the Bard. The rest I have a lot of faith in* and have seen them do some fine work.
Right now, we're in a bit of a dire strait finding enough actors to tote the load... The cast hovers at 26 or so, but I feel like I need another five or six to be comfortable. I feel a great deal of pride in my support staff: I couldn't imagine a more capable or supportive producer; my assitant director may just prove better than me; my PSM is a freshman with better skills than I've seen in many professional stage managers. My lead actors, too, are three shades of faboo: Henry is incredibly smart and so dedicated; one of the three leads is a beautiful girl from the Bahamas who will floor eveyone when she realises what she can do; the rest of the cast is equally exciting...
I need to sit down with my Canadian friend with the knack for 20th Cent drama to straighten out the funky ideas in my mind that may well be aired here.

Scotland's For Me!

In other news, Friday was the Belle and Sebastian concert! It wasn keen because it was a Belle and Sebastian concert featuring their new album The Life Pursuit. (I almost typed in DCW...). It was not keen because it was the first concert in years I didn't see with Laura Llew. I'm just getting over the bruises she put in my arms when they played "Slow Graffiti" in Durham and it'll be some time before I won't look for Indiana Marple at a B&S show.
Although to be fair, I did almost start a fist fight and was accused of feeling up a drunk straight girl. No easy feat, considering my hands were in my pockets...
As regards TLP, "Suki in the Graveyard" may be their best song in ages!

Now please forgive me, I've got to catch up on the poorly-planned Intro to Theatre class I TA for...

Blimey

So the past few days have been a bit fraught, and I haven't quite gotten around to watching the second half of The Quatermass Experiment. (I intend to do so shortly after finishing this...) In the meantime, though, I have discovered this:

David Tennant is just a bit more popular than I thought...

I can't say I'm quite surprised. What is it about him? Merely the fact he's the new Doctor Who? I don't think so -- if anything that would make me think twice about him. The last even remotely fanciable Doctor was Peter Davison in 1980 when I was only 2 or 3. And he was so blandly Tristan Farnon in space that no-one but a coked-out Sanda Dickinson ever gave him much of a thought. My working theory is that he's terribly /accessible/. In theory, anyway. If you went to a really good party, he wouldn't be the hottest guy there. But he would be the hottest one you could reasonably expect to go home with. Because you could think "I'm in there", he becomes much hotter than, say, an Eastern European porn star or a social-climbing film star cum rent boy (though who can split the difference?).
And well, the accent is pretty desirable. If a recent DWM is to be believed, the question "Am I wearing a wee beastie?" is one of the most oddly desireable lines in recent history.

Hello. I'm back.

I decided to start blogging again. I've had the idea running around in my head since about Christmas, but it's only tonight that I got up the gumption to do it. So here I am.
I got lost today. Surprisingly, it was the first time in months. I left work today (I work in the Time-Warer building on Columbus Circle) and decided to go down to the Drama Book Shop. I'd had a particularly rough day at work and decided that the Arden Shakespeare edition of King Henry VIII would make it better. The Drama Book Shop has a decent collection of the Arden editions, so off I went on the B train.
Now, I took the B train for two reasons. One, there's a stop at Columbus Circle. Two, I'd never actually taken the B train and assumed it stopped (along with the 1 train and the A and C trains, which also stop at Columbus Circle) at Time Square. It doesn't.
It does stop at Bryant Park. I figured I'd better get off the train after it past 7th Avenue and 47-50 St. Fortunately, one of the exits out of Bryant Park station is on 40th Street, or god only knows where I'd be now. After walking two blocks in the wrong direction -- I /know/ the whole grid system by now, but being dyslexic, my idea of left/right/east/west can be a bit dodgy -- I turned around and finally found the shop and purchased my bardolic (ain't that a great word?) joy.
Luckily, I knew my N line a bit better and was off home.
I'm off to finish watching the BBC's new Quatermass Experiment, which I downloaded last night. Accordingly, I imagine I'll have something interesting to say about David Tennat tomorrow night. Man, blogger has changed a lot since I last used it.
Till then -- Obey the Basset!

The Ears Call to the Ears...

It turns out our Bess loves our Chris more than the rolling hills o' Scotland.

I am Switzerland. Without the Banks.

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Your personality type is SLOEI

You are social, moderately moody, moderately organized, egocentric, and intellectual, and may prefer a city which matches those traits.

The largest representation of your personality type can be found in the these U.S. cities: Washington DC, Greenville/Spartanburg, Boston Area, Nashville, Indianapolis, Miami/Ft. Lauderdale, Pittsburgh, Tampa/St. Petersburg, Memphis, W. Palm Beach and these international countries/regions Ukraine, Middle East, Israel, Slovenia, Croatia, Switzerland, Romania, Belgium, Denmark, Hungary, South Africa, Poland, South Korea, Guam, Hong Kong

What Places In The World Match Your Personality?
Powered by CityCulture.org

I am scared by the fact that Spartanburg, SC matches my personality type. I've been there. There aren't many there like me.

Now Here's an Uncommon Thought...

Wow, that guy at Forbidden Planet was /really/ cute.

(It's true, he was.)

My old boyfriend is away this weekend, give rise to all manner of licentious thoughts. Since money is way tight right now, I'll be spending the weekend at home, watching DVDs. I'll be watching Harold and Maude and Odd Man Out (an old British film that's mentioned in Pinter's Old Times and features William Hartnell) and catching up on Monarch of the Glen series three and season three of Gilmore Girls.

Speaking of the WB Series, after watching all of season two, I am convinced that Dean started to take steroids (to improve his softball game, natch) at the end of season one. Nothing else easily explains his slip from relatively acceptibilty into Neaderthal-like stupidity and anger. Most of his season two dialogue can be condensed down to grunts and points.
It's no wonder Rory fell for Jess. Let's face it, between Jess and Logan, the girl has a good eye for cock.

Jaylemurph Goes to the Movies

Now, in a complete rip-off of the Glitter for Brains site, our triumphant return in a review of Batman Returns.

We begin in the lovely (and quite distinctive) Wollaton Hall, Nottingham. For Reasons That Remain Unexplained, this paragon of Elizabethan architecture is now Wayne Manor. Around the grounds, a young Master Bruce Wayne and a servant girl frolic about. While hiding from her, young Bruce falls through the rotten planks his doting, fabulously wealthy parents have used (For Reasons That Remain Unexplained) to cover an old well.
Cue the Bats.
The young master Bruce is Deeply Emotionally Scarred by them.

For Reasons That Remain Unclear, we cut several years forward to a prison camp in Tibet. For further Reasons That Remain Unlcear, several large Asians commence to be beating an Anglo. We assume this to be an older version of young master Bruce.

For even more Reasons That Remain Unclear, ymB is put into solitary confinement. For still further RTRU, Gary Oldman appears from behind a door.


Gary Oldman: *foams at the mouth a bit. EVIL BAD! ME STOP EVIL! YOU STOP EVIL NOW! BRING FLOWER TO MOUNTIAN TOP!


Bruce Wayne: Uh, okay.


For yet more RTRU, Bruce is released into the wilds. He picks a flower and begins the Arduous Trek up the Himalaya. At the top, he finds a monastery. Gary begins a long stretch of turning Bruce into a Ninja/idea/crime fighter. Unfortunately, rather than using a Rocky-style montage, it is drawn out over 20 minutes or so and features some blather attempting to be Eastern philosophy as might be found in Sports Illustrated.


For more RTRU, we cut back to the life of young Bruce. We meet his kind and loving father, who patches him up. Then we meet his dainty mother and we're off to a night at the opera.

Rather foolishly, Papa picks Der Fleidermaus.
Young Master Bruce flips out.

For (you guessed it) RTRU, rather than leaving through the main entrance, they go through a side door into a dark alley where they meet an Evil Criminal. Exit Mama and Papa through the bullet holes.


More blather about THE LEAGUE OF SHADOWS that purges evil from society.


Cut to The Evil Criminal's trial. It turns out he gets shot before Princeton student Bruce gets the chance to do so himself. He feels Angry and Cheated.
He is told he will never be really sad or angry til he is poor. He renounces his wealth and becomes a petty thief. For RTRU, he winds up in China and is caught and sent to a prison camp in Tibet.


The rest of the film is somewhat of a blur. Bruce leaves Tibet, claims his inheritance and decides to Fight Crime in New Y-- Gotham City (a mere stone's throw from his Nottingham estate). Fortunately, Wayne Enterprises hoardes ill-concieved Super Hero equipment. He helps himself.


There's something about a mob-boss and a Super-Kettle and Bad-trips, but by this point, all I noticed was Cillian Murphy, who plays an Evil Hott Doctor. So hott in fact, that he remained hott after belching forth maggots and bats. As far as I could tell, he was the focus of the film. Anything that was not him was not worth watching.


The rest of the movie featured Christian Bale moping about and speaking raspily. For the record, Batman deafeats the bad guys and makes solid plans to continue Fighting Crime with his pal, Lt. (later, presumably, Commissioner) Gordon.

The End.

"People who stand in front of the [subway train] doors need to be beaten within an inch of their life and left for dead on the platform!"

Damn, New York is making me violent.

(What's worse: the person I said this to saw nothing unusual about the remark.)

Girls With Glasses Are Sexy Young Lasses

Ah yes. Laura Llew is sexier than you, and not because of her stint as a lesbian porn star. It's her shirt. She has worn it and Rory Gilmore has followed.
I want one, now.

"I don't remember Bojangles holding Shirley Temple's brains in her skull while they were tapdancing!"

It is A Fact that Emily Gilmore is the best part of Gilmore Girls, and it rules when she gets drunk, but she has finally supplied me with a Life Motto: "When a woman gives birth to a crack-baby, you don't give her a puppy."

Also, just how big is Miss Patty going to get? I have a lingering mental image of Patty the Hutt, the muu-mmu'ed form with Lorelai in the Leia slave bikini on a chain and Sally Struthers as that little thing with the ears.

Would it have killed Amy Sherman-Palladino to unbutton or maybe take off Matt Czuchry's shirt in that make out scene? Or possibly, a few minutes of hard core gay porn after that "kissing a man" bit? I mean, Rory's an active girl. She could deal with another boy around.

Tomorrow is the first quiz for my classes. Time to realize that, hey, you /do/ have to do the homework.

And for your viewing amusement: The Meatrix, the most amusing film I've seen at work.

Best. Valentine. Ever.



Yes, I stole this from Miss Laura's site, but she'd never post this one.
On a related note, some bastard looked at this and said, "Oh yeah. I need to call Jake."
On a related related note, I found out that an undergrad in one of my (where I'm student, as opposed to teacher) has a wee crush on me.

Also, the dog has taken to rooting out my socks from the laundry and sniffing them. All the time.

The Years Go By...

Yes, we all saw those movies/pictures of Simon Rex that got him canned from MTV. And really, who wouldn't want to see them?
But he's on "I Love the 90s: Part Deux" looking pretty rough now, and there's no-one willing to pay to see that, however much the smack says so.

Man, he looks so bad I can't even find a picture. Can anyone else?

Waste Your Time...

...with this ingenious device.
For the record, it has guessed Romana from Doctor Who, Lorelai from Gilmore Girls and Cpt. Peacock from Are You Being Served? but not gotten Brendan Small from Home Movies, Nathan from Queer as Folk or Archie from Monarch of the Glen.
Alas, alas Thursday when I will no longer have time for such shite.

Confessions!

After so long, I have decided to inlcude some shocking confessions about me:

*I hate Rachel Ray. I know, it makes me a Bad Person, but her cute little self makes me want to hit people. This one guy, however, adores her and her show is often to be seen in our apartment, generally provoking mean comments from me like "Is that a highway on-ramp or was she trying to show off her thigh?"
Also, she tips like a bitch. "My dinner was $12.50, and with tax and tip, that comes to $12.75! Hee hee!"

*We have a hound. Just after Christmas, that guy got a basset hound and named him Sebastian. I call him many other things: pooch, hound, and after he tried to rip my face off the first day he was home, Savage Hound of the Wild!
For those who are interested, the scar is healing nicely.

*Tivo: I don't hate it all that much. I have sworn for some years now that Tivo is evil and would reprogram you brain, like an I-pod. Nevertheless, I got this for someone as a Christmas present. Since then, it has been... useful. Its ability to pick stuff on its own to record is still wonky... soccer shows in Mandarin, Who's the Boss and a Latvian talkshow.

*I /really/ like the Canadian TV show, Degrassi: The Next Generation. I used to watch it with irony, but now it is gone. I used to refer to the characters by type names: Fat Chick, Jewish Kid, Black Dude, etc. I now most of the kids first and last names, like Paige Myckelchuk. For the record, there are only two people on the show I want to sleep with.

*Last year for Christmas, I got Stephen Malkmus' autograph for Miss Laura Llew. He may, somehow, have gotten the idea she was dying of cancer. This is very, very not true. He kept reading things into what I was saying... Yikes.

*I have, with a heavy heart, decided I will not be able to accept sexual favors from my students. Yes, I will be a TA this semester for THEA 101. Office hours, grading exams, the lot. The first day of class is next Monday.

*Ever wonder where those model/actors in Bel Ami movies go? Turns out, once they get a little too old or a little too bitter, they become bus boys at the Veselka diner downtown.

*Decimalized currency, female prime ministers and the new Ice Age: all things accurately foretold by Dr Who. There's a foot of snow on the ground and I'm cold as fuck. Amusingly though, the snow is almost as deep as the dog is tall. He has to jump around through drifts to pee. Also, he likes to eat snow, but only on the run.

*Man, you cannot find somebody selling bootleg movies when you need one. I've been looking since before Christmas for one to send as a belated gift.

And who will feel some pity and send me a copy of that Arcade Fire album?

What Better Way to Come Back...

... than puberty style? Here, the BBC answers your questions with informative cartoons. Presumably this was to help re-acquiant older Doctor Who fans with their genitals after excessive exposure to the perly new assistant, Billie Piper.

As In What Jesus Doesn't Do

I have class Wednesday nights, so I don't watch ABC's Lost program. But some fucker does, and I sometimes see bits of it.
This week was apparently about Dominic MoinaHobbit's heroin addiction.
LIES!
He's too pudgy to be a smack addict. Have the writers of this show never seen Trainspotting/been to Williamsburg/hung around professional dancers?

The * Being

Congrats if you recognized that quote from Doctor Who and The Pyramids of Mars; more if you realize Sutekh is the name of a crappy techno band.

Kneel... Kneel before the Might of Sutekh!*


You're the Indie Guru!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You're practically too cool for words. You've got more indie rock knowledge in your pinky finger than Guided By Voices has songs! You went to your first Mudhoney concert when you were 14. You knew Green Day before they sold out to the masses. You can name every side project Lou Barlow has been in, complete with all album and song titles. You throw out words like "Thurston," "lo-fi," and "Kill Rock Stars." You wear jeans, old band tees, Converse. You hang with other gurus and people you can lord over. You're intelligent, but big-headed. Passionate, but hot-tempered. You will one day rule the earth.

*Whomp* My Name Is
*Bib* Ny Name Is

So last night was the Grad School party. It was also the night for celebrating one of my professors' retirement. The very professor, it turns out, who endowed by grant. Being a Solemn Occassion, evry single award winner since 1993 was there. They were an impressive lot, a professional director, the head archivist from the New York Public Library Theatre Archive, a CUNY PhD candidate, etc, etc.
And me.
They all spoke at length how Prof. X had touched their lives and affected their work. I stood to the side with my fellow first years, drinking very cheap white wine and hoping I wouldn't have to speak.
This turned out to be the least of my problems.
When the last of the past fellows had spoken, the head of the college announced it was now time to award this year's prize.
The 90+ year old professor stood up, squinted at the envelope and said:
"I'd like to award this year's prize to...
... Joel Anders!"

Just to make the situation more comfortable, the current head of the graduate program hissed in the world's sotte voce, "IT'S JASON ECKARD!"
The august professor stared at me for a second or two, threw down her hands and went "Oh, him!" and said to me, "You got it" and sat back down.

Not that I'm complaining too much, mind you. The money was spent today on the rest of my textbooks for the semester, and rent and groceries to keep me alive (and a Dr Who book and Belle and Sebastian vinyl), and the esteemed professor was 91 years old, but still...

UPDATE: the situation was not healed in class today when the chair of the department demanded one "Joshua" to read alound. When (after a minute or so) I looked up to see why no-one was reading, said professor was looking at me.
"My name isn't Joshua."
"Oh," he said. "Read it anyway."