Content Challenge

I made it through the whole month. Woo hoo.

Woo

Seriously, drinking on a weeknight is a bad idea.

Oops, nearly missed it

Tonight I cooked. I made veggie soup and roasted a chicken.

And that was pretty much my evening.

Tomorrow night, I'm seeing Hedda Lettuce. Should be fun.

ST:GBS

Continuing my fortnight o' Star Trek captains, tonight I saw Kate Mulgrew perform at Project Shaw. She's marvelous, which was not unexpected.

Project Shaw is the brainchild of the Gingold Theatrical Group. They put on a different Shaw play every month with the goal of performing every single play. I've only been to two productions, but they have been fantastic. The shows sell out and have a remarkably diverse crowd.

Plus, they have a raffle which is a plus in my book. Next month's performance, which I will sadly have to miss, is The Devil's Disciple. I guess I'll just have to read it instead.

BTW, is the content challenge over yet. This blogging every day is tough.

Feeling better

I'm feeling like I'm coming out of whatever has been bothering me. I'm sure it was just one of my natural depressive cycles, but this one was particularly dark. But I'm feeling better.

So, what about the Torchwood season finale? Didn't see that coming.

At least Ianto's still there.

Mmmm . . . Ianto.

Actually, as pretty as Ianto is (and I think I like him mostly because of how he dresses), my crush on the show is Rhys, Gwen's hubby.

No accounting, I suppose.

Let's see what else? I saw the season finale of Doctor Who (the one with Martha as companion). Loved, loved, loved the idea that Jack is the Face of Boe.

And Battlestar. Wow. Cylon civil war. Awesome. Can't wait to see how this ends.

Yep. That's how I spent my weekend.

Spring has sprung

Sure, I could tell by the leaves on the trees and the spring flowers in bloom, but the way I really know spring is here - the endless stream of cars driving down the street with their stereos blasting through open windows.

As the make up of the neighborhood changes, it gets worse and worse.

I think this will be my last year in this apartment.

Bolt Bus - 1, Crash - 0

After reading about it on Joe's blog, I decided to try out Bolt Bus for a trip to Philly this weekend. Well, not to Philly, but using Philly as a stopping point on the way to visit the family. By taking the bus instead of Amtrak, I'd save myself around $70.

Only problem, for this to work I had to catch the 5:30 bus, so I could catch a train in Philly to take me to the folks' house. If I caught the 6:30 bus, I'd get to Philly when the train I needed started running hourly and it would have been really, really late by the time I got home.

So I left work early. Made it to the bus with plenty of time. Only, no one was getting on the bus. They were just waiting around. Then the driver stepped out and said something that I'm sure was audible to the people standing within a foot of him, but was lost on the rest of us.

A few minutes later, a second Bolt Bus arrived. The first one backed up and left without taking any passengers. No problem, I thought, I'll get on the second one and we'll leave a few minutes later. Big deal.

Then the second bus drove off without taking any passengers.

Some people left, some stuck around. I waited for 20 minutes and walked over to Amtrak to get a ticket to Philly. All the evening's trains were sold out.

I'm sure I could have figured out a way to get home on NJ Transit; I've done it before. But I was so fucking pissed off at that point that I just called home and said I'd come next weekend.

So, in case Joe wants another review of Bolt Bus for his site, it sucks.

Whatever

That's all I've got today.

The calla lillies are in bloom again . . .

Well, actually it's the hyacinth that's in bloom again in my neighborhood. Walking down the street, every once in a while there will be a hint of that divine perfume. I love it.

And speaking of divine, hyacinth also plays a part in one of the many gay Greek myths. Hyacinth was a youth who was beloved by Apollo. Zephyros, the god of the West Wind, was also in love with Hyacinth, but hey, he was a troll and Apollo was hot.

At one point, Apollo was throwing a discus and Zephyros, jealous and angry at being rejected, blew the discus off course and caused it to smash into Hyacinth, killing him.

Apollo was so devasted that he wouldn't allow Hades to take Hyacinth into the underworld and begged him to give the boy life again. Hades refused, but from Hyacinth's blood a flower bloomed and Apollo's tears stained its leaves.

In another version of the tale, very similar to the myth of Persephone, Zeus granted Hyacinth immortality, but he could only live with Apollo for six months. The other six months were to be spent in the underworld. When he moved from the underworld to Olympus, the flowers that bore his name would blossom.

I like that ending a little better.

Still not much to say

Busy day followed by a play about women and food.

I'm off to bed.

So damn busy

So damn tired.

I'm going to bed.

Highs and lows

Saw Patrick Stewart's Macbeth today with Little David. It was really amazing. The director did some really inventive stuff, especially with Banquo's death and the banquet scene. One of the best productions of the play that I've ever seen.

That was the high.

Tonight I did my taxes. Pretty much same old, same old, until it came time to do my state taxes. Turns out my new company doesn't deduct state taxes from my paycheck. That proved to be a rather alarming and costly surprise.

That would be the low.

Ah, well. Could be worse, I suppose.

Thought of the day

There are some people in the world who say that writing stories, or composing music, or dancing sparkly dances is easy for them. Nothing interferes with their ability to create.

While I celebrate their creative freedom, a little part of me just wants to punch those motherfuckers in the teeth.

- lyrics from Die Vampire, Die! from the musical [title of show] by Hunter Bell and Jeff Bowen

Today I just want to punch some motherfuckers in the teeth.

I have been creatively dry for weeks now. I can barely blog. I can't write reviews. Everything seems stalled. Plus, all of my bad habits seem to have come back with a viciousness heretofore unknown. It's like I'm a slave to all my self-destructive impulses. The little red devil sits on my shoulder whispering, "Give in," while the angel that's supposed to be on the opposite one sits on a beach sipping planters punches while ogling the natives in their sarongs.

It blows.

I'm looking for suggestions on how to break this slump. So far all I've managed to come up with is going up to the roof with a rifle and shooting at the cars driving by with their stereos blasting. Of course, I don't have a rifle or roof access. And somehow I think hurling sarcastic bons mots from the fire escape will be less effective, though it will be more in keeping with the way people act in my neighborhood. Well, assuming "Shut the fuck up, you fucking [appropriate racial or ethnic epithet]!" passes for bons mots anywhere other than here. My own bons mots being more Shavian than that (at least in my own mind), I fear they would not help me fit in.

So now I'm left with the options of doing my taxes or watching TV and drinking. Devil votes for watching TV and drinking. Angel . . . ? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Make it so, MacDuff

I'm seeing Patrick Stewart in Macbeth on Sunday. Very, very excited. Marvelous actor, and I've heard he's amazing in this production.

And tomorrow, I'm doing my taxes. Blech. On the up side, I've sort of managed to keep all the receipts and stuff that I need. I've also tracked down most of the charitable donations I've made, too. Hopefully this year I'll get some money back. Seeing as I don't qualify for George W.'s bribe kickback tax rebate, it would be nice to get something.

Play

I did have time to see an interesting play this evening, Elizabeth Rex by Timothy Findley. Very interesting show. It imagines a meeting between certain members of the Lord Chamberlain's Men (Shakespeare included) and Queen Elizabeth on the night before the execution of Lord Essex, the Queen's former lover. An interesting play dealing with love and gender, both real and perceived.

Another long day

Okay, I realize that this is turning into my 'why I'm too tired to blog' blog. Sorry. But the work hours are getting longer and I'm still somehow falling behind.

With luck I'll be able to catch up on other things (having a life, for instance) this weekend.

Long Day

Another long day. 10 hours (12 if you count the commute because I had to go from Queens to City Hall, back to midtown, to Brooklyn, and finally back to Queens).

Tired.

Tired

Long, tiring day. Have to process some of it before I can blog about it.

Maybe tomorrow.

Charlton Heston

Just heard Charlton Heston died. I guess someone can finally get that rifle away from him now.

On the down side, America is no longer safe from hoards of marauding apes.

On the up side, today's shipment of soylent green will be slightly larger.

Armed bands of theatre critics exterminating mutant goats

Tonight I watched Monty Python's The Meaning of Life for the first time in . . . gosh, probably close to 20 years.

Still really funny. And I can still sing along to Every Sperm is Sacred.

Fun stuff.

Frak

How on earth could I have forgotten that the new BSG season started last night?

Luckily I caught the rebroadcast at midnight (or so). Interesting episode.

I'll take this over Lost any day.

Broadway twice in one week

I went to see Pinter's The Homecoming.

Creepy, creepy play.

Phenomenal cast.

All in all, I liked it.

Perchance to dream

It's not even 11 PM and I'm going to bed. This is the first night I've gone to bed before 1 AM in a week.

I plan to do nothing but sleep and do taxes this weekend.

Thursday in the Park with Crash

I just came back from seeing Sunday in the Park with George.

Meh.

But it was an interesting story, and one with which I was completely unfamiliar. I've only seen a handful of Sondheim shows.

Oh, and the special effects were good. In fact, one of the Sondheim afficienados behind me would clap her hands eagerly whenever one appeared.

Yeah, she got really fucking annoying really fucking fast. And she was a shoe tapper.

Anyhoo, off to bed. Much as I'm enjoying these 10 hour work days, I'm kind of exhausted.

Still tired

Still tired and still sick. Blech.

Just finished reading The Summer They Came by William Storandt. Not bad.

Anyway, that's it.