Modern Dance

So this dance show I saw was amazing. Wednesday I went with my sister. Didn’t really know anything about it, but 75 minutes later I just sat stunned at what I had seen. My sister started asking me all these questions “What’d you think?” “What was your favorite part?” “What didn’t you like?” And I was too blown away to respond. “Christ,” I said “give me 15 minutes to digest it first.”
I’m rarely speechless, but this did it.
I’m now sure it’s the best show I’ve ever seen in New York. Might even call it life altering.

It was so good; I went back to the other two shows Friday and Saturday. I gave away tickets to the New York City Ballet both nights so I could go. I figure, I can always see another ballet, but I can’t ever see this show again.

And that’s the thing I hate about modern Dance. It almost always only happens once. It’s not at all like music. How many chances will I have to see Tosca in my life (far too many already)? An opera will always be the same; granted, the sets and ideas will change and of course the singers will change, but you’re going because of the music, because of Puccini or Verdi or Wagner (if you’re into that kind of thing). But modern dance is one and done. I’ve seen a few good shows, mostly at the Joyce theater, but some of them are a few years ago and even though I loved these performance the details are starting to fade. And I’ll never see these shows again. I’ll have to see new ones instead.

And that’s why I went to all three performances of the same show. And why I took a new person each night. I felt like it was this great secret I was able to bestow upon those I brought.

Andrea Hack'celli

Andrea Bocelli tickets just went on sale at work. I hate selling them. Everytime someone calls up I just want to yell at them “Andrea Bocelli is a Hack! Take your $195 a ticket and go to the Met! I don’t care that he’s blind, that just makes him a blind hack! He should be performing in a subway stop like the rest of the blind Hacks!”
But I don’t.
I sell them their tickets and hope they don’t ask me questions like “aren’t you excited he’s coming?” or “Will you be going to the show?” Because I can feign pleasantry when I’m selling, but I’m not sure I can blatantly lie about my feelings of him.

I really hate it when they mispronounce his name. Bocelti. Boselli. Bocioti. You’re going to spend $195 a ticket on a hack performer when you can’t even say his name?!

Enough of that. I really need to eat more. I don’t have a big appetite and sometimes I forget to eat. But it always catches up with me and I end up running to the vending machine getting crap sugary food.

Ah well, Milano cookies are tasty. And I’m still skinny.
I mean…lean and fit.

OH. And I went to the most amazing performance last night. A dance show called "ma" by Akram Khan. But I'm tired of typing so I'll talk about that next time.

She'll make you take your clothes off and go paintball in the rain

Sunday was the much anticipated paintball extravaganza. And it was indeed…quite the extravaganza. It rained. The entire time. It wasn’t so bad when you were playing, but when you weren’t playing, well I had 4 shirts on and they were all entirely soaked and I shivered a lot. The worst part was how hard it was to see cause the rain on our goggles.
We didn't play the entire day, after about 4 hours the group voted they had had enough. In 8 games my teams were 5 – 3. Here’s how they broke down.

1 – L: First person shot out (of the whole day) right in the top of my head.
2 – W: I took out 3 of the 5 opponents.
3 – L: Ran around like a fool trying to avoid being shot. Eventually got shot in the chest from close range.
4 – L: Was about to make a daring/game changing advance when my roommate shot me right on the knuckle.
5 – W: My team won. It was over before I saw a single person on the other team.
6 – W: Down to just me, I took out all 5 of the opponents (by running around like a fool again).
7 – W: Shot in the eye (goggle) before I really did much good.
8 – W: Shot two people before I ran out of ammo.

So obviously a good time was had by all. We may have had some better games if it hadn’t been a 5 hour downpour, but we wouldn’t have near as good stories to tell.

Lucky Urinal Slevin

Finally having some time off what’s the best thing to do? Book my self solid. Last week I had the pleasure of going to back to back operas: Marriage of Figaro at the Met on Wednesday and Carmen at City Opera on Thursday.

Marriage of Figaro was nothing other than amazing. (It had better have been, 1) it’s the Met, 2) I paid $20 to stand in the back.) The only thing lacking were the sets which weren’t anything special, but the singers were all phenomenal.
Carmen was pretty good, but the woman playing Carmen (Kate Aldrich) was…amazing (she must be good if it was worth looking up her name). These seats were 4th row, but pretty much all the way to the side, so when the singers sang to stage right they sounded good, when they sang to stage left…not so good.

But the BEST thing about the New York State Theater is the urinals. They’re numbered! I’ve never seen numbered urinals before, but right on top of the fixture are giant 1 – 7’s (I had the privilege of using lucky number 2 before the show). Now, I assume they’re numbered for the sake of the Maintenance staff. “Jorge, urinal number 5 is acting up again” and you can’t freaking miss which urinal is #5 because there’s a big freaking 5 on top of it. But I must ask, if I say “the 5th urinal is acting up”…what other urinal could it be? How else would you count of urinals but from left to right, it’s just 1 row. Second, if you just said “One of the urinals is acting up” I don’t think it would take Sherlock Holmes (or Jorge Jolmes) to figure out which damn urinal it is.

So the only explanation can be that there’s some kind of betting scheme going on. As soon as the show finishes the staff watches through a camera and places bets on who will be the first of the 7 to finish.
I lined up at my spot in the first round after the show and I assume, being young and getting the inside lane (#1), I got pretty good odds. But out of no where this long shot old man at #6 takes the cup by a couple of lengths. Kudos to anyone who bet on him, he was probably a 40 – 1.

Catching up

By taking the longest vacation I’ve taken since moving to New York, I have had a fantastic 5 days in Baltimore. Actually, it was a forced vacation. My job cut back hours this week so I suddenly found myself off Friday - Tuesday.

The best thing about the trip was that it was good to be missed. So many people seemed so happy to see me. I guess I haven’t been home for 4 months so they had better miss me.

Worst event of the trip was learning that I don’t have a birth certificate so I can’t get a passport right away so I can’t take the offered trip to Panama in May. I’m trying to forget about it and not be bitter (even though I’ve never left the country and this would have been the perfect opportunity), but so it goes.

And I did get into Santa Fe. Not on the staff, but at least in the crew. So I’ll be there late May to late August.

Hmm, not the most interesting post I’ve written, but I had some catching up to do. So…tune back in Friday and you’ll learn all about pissing like a race horse; literarily.

Allegretto!

I went to two used book stores in the past week and have spent way too much money. A couple of Vonneguts a couple Goldings and a couple of others. I’m not good at picking out books in a book store. The Vonneguts and the Goldings are good, but the others, true to form, are not.

I did buy a book of 1,700 Limericks. I love Limericks. I picked the book up and just started laughing and I had to buy it. It’s great. Here’s one for all you music buffs out there:

There was an old man from Estretto
Who buggered each man in the Getto.
He once stuck his hose in
A musician Composin’
Who said: “Not so slow – Allegretto!”
--------------
And here’s a cartoon that reminds me of me.

My new crush

Shannon recently reminded me that I have failed to mention the newest crush in my life. Her name is Lynn Cohen. Or as most of you know her, Magda, Cynthia Nixon’s house keeper from Sex and the City (or Judge Elizabeth Mizener from Law and Order or Golda Meir in Munich).

I’m terrible at celebrity spotting. Some people could point out anyone on the street. I could be walking with Vince Vaughn on my left and Susan Sarandon on my right and probably never take notice. So be it I wouldn’t have known who Lynn Cohen was when I met her if the cast hadn’t been talking about her. She’s the wife of a very funny gentleman, Ron Cohen, one of the actors in the show I just finished.

It’s especially cool because not only did I meet her, but hung out with her many times. She came to four shows and both cast parties. The thing is; I get nervous around her. Not because I’m start struck because she’s a semi-recognizable actress, but because she’s such a sweetheart that that I developed a small crush and I feel like I’m in middle school again whenever I talk to her. My director (well, now ex-director) has a crush on her as well. He’s gay. Advantage: Me.

I did have a very nice conversation without the voice cracking and stuttering. The problem was it was the first cast party (see post: Mission Drunk – Accomplished). She was asking all about my summer plans and my vocal degree and how I became a stage manager; whilst I tried my hardest not to fall over or spill my drink on her (and I proudly did neither).

Here’s to you, Lynn. I’ll miss you.

Public urination, you only miss it when you can't do it

So here’s a problem with New York. No place to discretely urinate in public.

The problem is real estate. Every square inch of Manhattan (well every square inch I frequent) is worth so much money that you don’t find back alleys and side streets. See in Baltimore if you couldn’t hold it there was always a dark passage you could duck into, unzip, and do your business. Well, by “you” I mean males, although that’s not 100% true. I once witnessed a very intoxicated girl, not so discretely, squatting just around the corner from Brewer’s Art. I think she was crying and her friend was telling her “it’s all right, it’s all right.” Sad, yet pretty hilarious at the same time.

Anyway, back to me, walking home last night I realized I had forgotten to alleviate myself of my burden before I left the theater. So what’s a man to do? Well I could find a restaurant or bar and stop in just to use the restroom, but, that just seems so womanly. And with too many people in Times Square (always) to just use the side of a building; I did the next manliest thing, hold it.

I read somewhere that the best way for men to hold back is to think sexual thoughts, since you can’t do both at the same time. So I met Shannon at the station and imagined she was Jessica Alba for the next 45 minutes till we were home. I mean…I listened to every word she said like the caring roommate I am…

Oh and:
4 points to Shannon for linking me to her blog
1 point to Tim because he whined about it
1 point to Erin cause I like to give her false hopes

Sleep > God

I out slept a cold. I was unsure the past two days of whether a cold was coming or going and it seems as though it was going. I slept so much on the three days I had off this weekend I think I just slept the cold away. Sleeping works miracles, not God.

So here’s the text of the Doonesbury cartoon I was raving about. 5 points for me (since it’s not the real cartoon).

George H. W. Bush: Son, do you know why I decided not to invade Iraq?
W. Bush: Haven't a clue, Dad.
HW: Really? I put it in my book.
W: Books are Laura's thing.
HW: Let me read you some excerpts... "An occupation of Iraq would have incurred incalculable human and political costs... There was no viable exit strategy... Had we gone the invasion route, the United States could conceivably still be an occupying power in a bitterly hostile land.
W: I don't recall any of that, Dad.
HW: But it was reported in all the papers.
W: I don't read the papers.
HW (to himself): Another child left behind (to W): Nice to talk to you, son.
W: Listen, Dad, you're either with me or against me

So Funny! Man, I really wish I had saved that one.

Mission Drunk - Accomplished

I think my weekend can be best summed up by the fact that Sunday at 6:00AM I woke up from being asleep on my bathroom floor. I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve done this. It would have been funnier if one of my roommates had found me there, oh well.

Saturday was the cast party for my current show and I had one goal. Get really drunk. Well, mission accomplished. Apparently text messaging is the new drunk dialing. I text messaged about a dozen people that night. My memories are spotty. I called Erin and my sister. Vomitted on 7th Ave. Went into the subway station, but ended up taking a cab home. I’m not sure how much money I gave him, because the next thing I remember it’s 6 and I’m in my bathroom.

I don’t think it’s that I had that much to drink; it’s that I haven’t really drank in bout 3 months.

Sunday, after I managed to get up, it was Kerry’s birthday so I spent a lovely, albeit hungover, day with my sisters.

And Monday, which I had off and had planned to go somewhere cool, somewhere away from NY, I spent doing all the things I was supposed to do Sunday. Cooking, cleaning, and Laundry. Ah well.

Now I have the start of the cold. The whole cast of this show had it and I thought I had avoided it. Hopefully it will be brief and mild.