Goodbye, New York

That's it. It's over. Done.
The show has wrapped. Post-production is in the process of wrapping. My plane ticket says I get to leave in a few days, although we'll see what the snow has to say about it.
It's bittersweet. It went by fast and slow. It was fun and dumb, easy and hard, this and that. I don't know. I'm sure some sincere feelings will surface in about three months. Right now, I just want to wear normal shoes and drive a car. Oh my god am I going to drive my car when I get home! Wherever I want. Maybe for no reason.

I made this!

Honestly, it's been quite an experience. And I have enjoyed this extremely ridiculous weather. There was one day I came out of the subway and it was 10 degrees. My whole walk to work, I was laughing and kind of crying. Not sad crying, just uncontrollable teary eyes crying. And I was also swearing in a moderately loud voice. But I mean, I've never been in cold like that. It was really bracing- kind of like walking around in a large glass of chilled Listerine. How do you not swear in those conditions? The answer is you can't not.

This is what a blizzard looks like.

On Wednesday, there was a blizzard. We were stranded outside the drag club where we'd been playing bingo. (Go with it, dad. It's New York.) Luckily, Page's apartment was 3 blocks away, so 6 of us had an impromptu slumber party. It was very fun.

On our way to get supplies during the blizzard. That hippie was like, stuck, man.

On our way home from getting supplies. A snowball fight in the middle of 56th street was inevitable.

I don't have much else to report. It's really winding down for me here. 

Except, this morning, I walked out of my apartment and was met with this sight...

Recycling, Hell's Kitchen style.

I guess piles of snow are good places to dump your old technology. If a cop caught you, you can say it's an art project. 

You're going to really have to strain your eyes to see this. 

And this is my favorite mural in my neighborhood. Not that there was a lot of competition. It's by the french cartoonist Sempe and it's very sweet. I always meant to get a closer shot of it, but I never did. I thought I had so much time! And watch, the next time I come here, it'll have peeled off completely. Oh, life!

So, I guess that's it. I think this blogging thing went moderately well, all things considered. Sure, it fell apart at the end, but I hear that's how it usually goes with blogs. Very common trajectory, I'm told. 

All in all, I liked it. Perhaps we'll get to do it again sometime. 

I'll call you when I get back to Burbank. 

Garbage, Mice and Snow

Dad! It's been a month to the day since my last post. Partly because of my incessant laziness, partly because I heard a rumor that blogging is out for 2011. I guess the new thing now is long-form hand-written correspondence. But you know what? I'm going to blog anyway because I know how deeply you care for it.  Here's some of that snow I was telling you about, shot from my office window...  Isn't it so pretty? I like the contrast of the urban landscape in the background, the way it makes the snow look even more natural and lovely. We've all seen snow fall in Tahoe. Big deal. It looks like it should snow there. But snow falling between two 10-story pre-war brick buildings? Come on! That's, like, a miracle of nature or something. Apparently, I'm the only one in this city who feels this way. Everyone else is like, "Bring on the salt." That's sad to me. Did we talk about how I went to see A Little Night Music starring your girlfriend Bernadette Peters? The people love her. She was her usual amazing self, really fascinating to watch and wonderful to listen to. The play is kind of dull, though. That Sondheim really loves a refrain. And the other actors were doing a weird speaking thing that sounded very staccato and odd, like they were trying out Welsh accents just for fun. It was irritating at first, then it started to make me sleepy. Then it inspired me to mentally list all the mistakes I've made in my life that have kept me from becoming a Broadway star. All in all, I can't say it wasn't a full experience, but it was definitely painful. Regrets, I've had a few... None of these people went to Sac State. What else do I have to tell you? Well, when I finally returned to this apartment after our extended holiday visit, a sad sight awaited me.  Wait, I know CPR! A little dead mouse in my bedroom doorway. I was so sad, mostly because I knew it meant the cockroaches were on their way. But then, about 3 nights later, a big fat mouse went strolling through the kitchen as I watched TV and I realized the dead one was probably the fat mouse's baby. She's obviously been doing some emotional eating to cope with her loss. So, the good news is, of all the things I have to worry about right now, a vermin shortage in NYC is not one of them. You can imagine my relief. I took a video of the garbage that has piled up on the street since the blizzard of '10 that shut this city down. (NOTE: I've already posted it and the mouse picture on facebook and had long and hilarious discussions with my friends about them, but since you refuse to participate in that type of social networking, I am forced to repeat myself here like some kind of blogging Sondheim. Also, it seems mice, snow and garbage are the only things I've been paying attention to these days, so unless I start cutting and pasting news stories from AOL, this'll have to do.)  {ADD'TL NOTE: Unfortunately, the machine won't load the video, so I'll just show you a picture of what it looks like from the internet.} Delicious. The pile in my neighborhood looked just like that when I first saw it and it's only 1/3 shorter today. If it snows again tomorrow, the children will be able to sled down it. I guess that's not totally horrible. Wasn't San Francisco built on garbage? Or was that just propaganda made up by Willie Brown and his hat?  All right. Clearly, if I'm making Willie Brown references, I've run out of things to say. It's time for me to go out into this city and discover something new and not filthy. I've been told a group of us are going to Little Italy for dinner tonight. Surely, I will have plenty to tell you after that. I hear they have the best garbage down there- salami rinds and old pizza crusts and mustache clippings... oh, just you wait!

In Five... Four... Three... Two...

Dad, I will be posting in full very soon. 

It's just that things have been busy and this website wasn't loading my videos correctly and my internet connection in my apartment is spotty at best. I have nine more excuses, which you can read on my new Excuses blog, starting in May.

In the meantime, here's a video I took from my seat in the control room during rehearsal. 

i really enjoy this ee cummings typesetting style that I didn't choose (and can't seem to change)

This 'n That

I think it's time to change the name of this blog to something more indicative of it's random, sporadic nature. It's less "word for word" in the classical Kilgariff sense and more "blah blah blah" with pictures. I just want you to know I realize I've stopped reporting on my day to day and now I'm just trying to string my iphone photos together with some kind of logical narrative. It's the hackiest kind of blogging and it will not stand. I'm onto me, big time.

It's just that my life of late has been boiled down to work, pizza and the bi-weekly New York night life moment. Let's see if I can dig out a nugget of interest for my people. Auntie Ping, this one's for you:

Can you smell the fame?

OK, here's me writing at Jerry's desk. I can't remember why, but I had to leave the writer's room that day to write by myself. There was no internet service in my office, so Tom said I could use the office he shares with Jerry. Of course, I sat at Jerry's desk because I am a rebel and an upstart, then figured I should take a picture of such an epic moment. Just so you know, there is not one personal item in or around this desk. Even that tangerine is mine. There's a good chance he's never even sat there.

But still, I know how people love celebrity desks, so I thought I'd share. 

This is a traveling see-thru antique truck. Talk about class.

So, remember my friend Lisa Leingang? She was the manager at The Improv in SF back in the day? Red head? Now she lives in NYC and she's going to have a baby in December. Aren't you fascinated by what the connection could possibly be between Lisa and this picture? THERE IS NONE!!! I was walking to her baby shower and I passed this screened-in flatbed truck full of antiques and lo and behold, there's the lion drinking fountain from Fairyland!

This is a picture from Children's Fairyland, Oakland CA. Trust me on this. 

So this became one of those bittersweet moments where I was so excited to see the lion fountain, but then I realized I was alone in a strange city where no one really knew me. I mean, I could've run into a bodega and quickly explained the magical happenstance to the cashier, but that's not really my style. I just decided to take a picture before the see-thru antique truck drove away with one of my earliest childhood memories. (I know it's not the exact same one, but it's symbolic, goddammit.)

Focus on the left side of the screen.

And finally- this picture was taken as I passed the front of Bergdorf-Goodman in a cab at night. Do you see the fashion atrocity being presented as a choice for winter wear?! Red pants! Where am I right now, Paris France? 

All right, this post has been as disappointing for me as it has for you. But I promise, my shame will be the catalyst for my improvement. That's how I did it in high school!

My eyes!

It’s the second show day of our first week of shows and I gotta say, I show am tired! (I love that joke.)

We taped on Tuesday and although it all went great, I’m pretty sure I’m not legally allowed to talk about the details in this public setting. Let’s just agree to not discuss it at Thanksgiving (wink wink).

After the Tuesday show, we went to a VERY fancy restaurant (name withheld for legal reasons) and fittingly, they had the fanciest butter I’ve ever seen. 

Like buttah...

When the waitress put the bread basket down, she started explaining how there were four different types of butter and how each bread went with a different one, blah blah blah.

I wasn’t paying attention because it was 11 o’clock at night and my eyes were burning and I could barely read the menu. When I was able to make out a word, it was either Italian or one of those fancy restaurant words I’ve never seen before, which made my attempt at ordering to sound something like this:

“Could I ask, what is machantato?”

“That’s a beef stock lightly blended with Wondra and drizzled over the meat.”

“So, it’s gravy?

“Well…technically yes.”

“All right. And what is supsinteri?”

“That’s codfish with some parsley next to it.”

“Can you come back to me? I’ve lost the will to live.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

I ended up getting a tootsie-roll shaped pasta with gorgonzola inside. It tasted like something only people who live in castles eat. Rich like you wouldn’t believe. It was delicious, but delicious in the way that eating frosting out of the can is delicious. A little goes a long way.

I started with a salad that looked like a handful of something you’d feed a goat. Weeds and clover and dandelions and lawn trimmings, topped off with just a drizzle of balsamic to help you choke it down. I decided I’d man up and eat everything that wasn’t spiky or thistled. You know, make the best of it. After about three bites, I had to stop. It was like someone had walked through a field, spilled their salad dressing and didn’t want to waste it. I realized it wasn’t my problem and the butter lady came and took it away.

The desserts seemed nice, but at that point, my eyes were closing up shop and I knew I only had about seven more minutes before I went face down in the profiterole. 
The good news is, we're going there again after the show tonight, so I'll have another chance to get it right.
(EDITOR'S NOTE: I don't know why the text gets all big like this sometimes. It's not intentional. It's actually kind of embarrassing.) 

TESTING...TESTING...CHECK ONE TWO...

Will this one work like the good old blogs? Who knows? I'm just going to throw some stuff up and see...

Here's a movie of a talented lady who was singing and playing a Casio keyboard at the Hell's Kitchen flea market I called you from last Saturday...

I only caught the jazzy vamped-out end of that number. She was either singing The Look of Love or the jingle from the Empire Carpets commercial. I wanted to film her more, but I could feel her watching me from behind her dark glasses, so I became unnerved and moved on. She was also wearing gloves, which seemed suspicious to me for a keyboard player.

Is that video going to end up being too small to make out any hilarious details? Goddammit! It's fine, it's fine. Let's just keep going...

Here's the only item at the flea market I even remotely considered buying...

One of the extras from Babe.

It could be nice over the mantel, right? I don't know. I guess I'll go back this Saturday and if it didn't get snatched up already, I'll take it as a sign that it was meant to be mine. Those fangs might just be big enough to hang coats off of. Or stick some daily affirmations onto. You know what, I'm not going to decide right now. I'll let the universe guide me.

They also had an old steamer trunk sitting open and this picture was on the inside of the lid:

This makes me wish I went to fishing school, but oh no! You insisted I study theater in Sacramento.

I think there's a chance that steamer trunk once belonged to Molly Malone and that's the sticker she used to put on all her stuff to let people know it was hers, cockles and mussels and whatnot. 

Hey, have you noticed that this is all working out great so far? Pictures going where I put them, captions for the pictures going where they're supposed to, the whole sheblog! (Sorry. That was terrible.) 

Except for how tiny that movie may or may not turn out to be, I think I'm back on track. Let's just forget that mess of a blog yesterday ever happened. 

I Really Tried

Dad- It used to be so much easier to be a blogger. I'm not sure what changed. Maybe I've begun to take this magical city for granted. Maybe I've stopped taking pictures because of the constant purple halo that keeps appearing when I use my camera phone. (It's actually my phone cover getting in the way. I finally figured that out. I secretly hoped it was ghosts.)

I haven't done anything compelling since my last post, except for one lovely day trip.

Don and Adam thought it would be nice to go to Cold Spring, about half and hour outside the city, so we could see the fall colors. We climbed a mountain. It was very cathartic.

.
That second picture is the Hudson River valley. You can't see it, but West Point is right there at the bend in the river.

I would've explained that in between photos, but it's not working and I'm getting mad.

And somehow, I've lost the ability to write captions for the pictures now. And that was my favorite part of blogging!

That and the glory. I also can't seem to control where the pictures end up when I upload them.

To be honest, I kind of feel like throwing this computer on the ground and screaming, "JUST FORGET IT!" as loud as I can.

I won't. I want to, though.

I have to stop trying to make the best of this post and just bail so I can fix the settings on this blog site.

Might need to reboot the entire system. Maybe hack into a mainframe somewhere.

I'm going to fix it and try again later. Because that's what blogging is all about.