it’s not the most original of articles, but props to maureen dowd for her well-written, likeable sum-up of things in DC. “bringing sexy back” reflects on the similarities and differences between scott brown and president obama – all while (whether intentionally or not) painting an insightful, tongue-in-cheek picture of the american people.
Monthly Archives: January 2010
like a dream
this is like a dream of mine come to life – very possibly one of my favorite pictures of all time. (click picture for source blog).
umbrellas
and another – just as delightful
umbrella bloom
gatz
on saturday, i went with a friend to see this play. and, let me tell you – it was amazing. a-ma-zing. despite the fact that it ran 6.5 hours long (no lie), and at some points i found my thoughts wandering, there really is no experience quite like hearing the great f. scott being read aloud.
the basic premise of the play is this: a man (scott shepherd as narrator/nick carraway) walks into his office (present-day setting), and finds a copy of the great gatsby at his desk. he picks it up and begins reading it aloud. for the next 6.5 hours, the only words you hear are from the text of gatsby.
gradually, the scene in the office begins to undergo a weird transformation. a few coincidental remarks pop up, coworkers uttering the same words that shepherd is reading; actions happening right before he reads their cue (“the phone rang,” he reads, and then the office phone rings), and then the story unfolds as if taking place in his office. his coworkers become the characters in the play, speak their lines, follow their actions, all the while shepherd is reading aloud, watching the scene unfold with some incredulity.
perhaps the thing that struck me the most was the casting of gatsby. forget the dreamy, dashing, suave image in your head – forget robert redford. here we have jim fletcher: tall, bulky, balding, middle-aged and with a deep voice. he stands nearly a foot taller than shepherd (a casting choice that was probably more lucky than intentional, but still seems significant as we watch the presence, the dreams, of jay gatsby towering over the rest of the play). the casting is striking not only because of these obvious differences from fitzgerald’s gatsby, but also because fletcher’s gatsby is instantly familiar to us. we are reminded of the title of the play: “gatz.” here is jimmy gatz; here is everyman.
shepherd deserves much credit, too, of course. not only for his fortitude in reading aloud for nearly 6.5 straight hours or for captivating us for that whole time, but for the enchanting way he does it. he is at once the perfect narrator and the classic nick carraway. fitzgerald’s writing comes to life in shepherd’s clear, straightforward voice. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.” fitzgerald’s words sting with fresh vigor when heard aloud, as shepherd, never melodramatic, reminds that just as gatsby is all of us, so are all of us nick.
it’s a tangle of characters and roles – the office janitor is tom, coworkers are daisy and jordan, the office manager plays a multitude of small roles, even the play’s sound technician has several walk-on roles – if you are not instantly aware of the play’s intention to universalize each of the book’s characters, by the end of the play the point has been hit home. we see the reflection of people we know, including ourselves, in the faces onstage.
at times, the play seems like the great gatsby meets the three stooges; at other times you expect to hear arthur miller directing from the wings. it is both comical and pensive, dark and light. if you have only seen the contemplative, disenchanted side of the great gatsby, then you must see this play – the absurdity of the plot, of the characters, even of the way the reader/audience reacts to it all are highlighted with aplomb.
in the end, we do not leave with the image of robert redford in a silver shirt and gold tie; rather, we remember jim fletcher in a flamingo-pink suit, pacing the stage, keeping time with the even tones of scott shepherd’s voice.
sleep-blogging
i ought to be writing a post about the fabulous play i saw this weekend, but alas, it’s minutes before tomorrow begins, and i’m both tired and wide awake. nothing like a little insomniatic blogging to take the edge off the night, though, i figure.
here are the things i am thinking as i am not falling asleep:
- sometimes i can really relate to jay gatsby. and sometimes i can really relate to holly golightly. i suppose most people live their lives in one of two ways: either trying to get back to the past or trying to escape it. the present moment is only the train station.
- i cared more about football when i was in college, before i understood the game. but i’m kinda glad the saints won, i guess. since they’ve never been to a super bowl and i’m cajun. and all.
- maybe i should read, try and help myself fall asleep – but the book i’m about to start reading is edgar allan poe, and he doesn’t usually write things i consider bedtime stories.
- i need to get some parmesan cheese tomorrow.
- also i’d like to learn to cook beef. i mean cook it well. i can cook it badly just fine.
- i’m glad johnny depp isn’t really dead.
- ooo just got a new email.
- ohhh its from work. the answer to some proofreading questions i had.
- i hate getting work emails in my personal email folder. it’s the most disappointing feeling ever. the “ding” indicating new mail is quickly drowned out by the thud in my soul.
- i should set up a work filter, like the spam filter. ill do that when im awake.
- there is something poignant about the last period in a paragraph. in my head i call it the fatal period. although, i suppose there is something fatal about every period. including this one.
- people are going to think i’m crazy if i keep writing these kinds of things out.
- people already think i’m crazy.
- i am crazy.
- crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, ergo, i must be sane.
- except that now i don’t think i’m crazy, ergo…
- never mind. poe is looking pretty good.
- g’night strange world. period.
scott brown and jimmy stewart
roses are red,
my senator is too,
(the other one’s blue,
but what can you do?)
c’mon, special election day — how could i not post?
for those of you who live in a foreign country (or are politically apathetic), Massachusetts held a special election today to fill the seat of the late senator Edward Kennedy. Senator Kennedy was a democrat, and held the seat for 47 years. since the passing of Senator Kennedy, his seat has been filled by an interim appointee (Kirk).
the primaries passed uneventfully – i actually didnt know they happened and (im ashamed to admit it) did not vote. but the ballot was narrowed to three names: Coakley (dem), Brown (rep.), and and independent named Kennedy who is (seriously) not related to the late senator. (gotta love MA. there are so many Kennedys in politics here they aren’t even all related.)
so we had a special election today. and i did vote, thankyouverymuch (absentee, cos i wasn’t sure how long the mono would keep me in CA. apparently there were 100,000 absentee ballots ordered. crazy.) well, MA is considered blue – as said – but technically 51% of voters are registered as independent. i myself am registered as republican. and obama came down to help Coakley campaign (raging tangent: ok seriously? does anyone else have a problem with this? i know presidents do it a lot, and its not just obama etc — but i have a real problem with the president — any president, any party, any term — intervening in elections on the legislative branch. there’s enough breach of checks and balances as it is. the executive needs to keep to its own little branch on the old liberty tree. maybe that’s too much, sorry. sorry mr president. sorry everyone.) At first, everyone thought Coakley would win. We have a Dem majority in both our State Senate and State House, a Dem governor, and the last time MA elected a Republican to Congress was in 1972. But, oh, the times they are a-changing.
The people spoke forth, the independent, liberty-minded, freedom-founding, red-sox-loving Massachussettans (ites? whatever), and Republican Scott Brown won. awesome. it was a close race (so exciting). And thus ends the democrats’ filibuster-proof hold on congress. which i’m happy about for several reasons. a hit to healthcare reform being only one of them. and not even my main source of glee, actually. the thing is, i’m never happy when a filibuster can’t happen. i just love me a good filibuster. i blame Jimmy Stewart for that.
(ps. forgive all the typoes. i was wicked excited when writing this)
straight-up whining
perhaps you have been wondering where i have been (perhaps you just don’t care :p). well, im back in boston now. still in bed though. mono mono mono. also some weird cold on top of it. but its back to work this week so we’ll see how it goes.
ok i was going to write more but im too tired. not mono tired – no-sleeping tired. that’s right, since i’m back in boston, i’m back to not sleeping well at night. its just like clockwork. a month of resting well, sleeping all night, and so on in CA… first day back in boston was a migraine and sleepless nights. (today isnt my first day back – i got back saturday)
letters to myself
when i was young, i used to write letters to my older self. when i was 14, i wrote a letter to myself-at-age-18; when i was 18, i wrote to myself-at-24 (it reminds me… i wonder if i wrote a letter to myself after that? perhaps there is one waiting for me?). they were conversational letters, asking about things that were important at the time: “did you ever end up doing this, seeing that, experiencing that” and so forth. they were far from literary masterpieces, but they were entertaining, inspiring and sometimes a little exposing. in some cases, they held a latent accountability with them. i can remember a few specific cases where i felt that i had to do something before it was time to open the next letter — i mean what would i have told myself?!?! ;)
in some ways i now feel too old to write letters to my older self. what can me-at-29 possibly ask me-at-45? isn’t this about as much as life will have to offer? ok, a little drama, i admit :) … perhaps i will write a letter to myself-at-45 and prove how wrong i am.
but i’m also considering writing another letter. perhaps i should write back to myself-at-18 (as in brad paisley’s song, sorta), tell myself all the things i wish i had known then, all the things that are important now to me. i’ll save that letter, and in 10 years write another one, and compare the two. how will the advice i give at 29 differ from that i gave at 39? 49? 60?
as the decade turns, and my twenties wind up as well, you should expect a lot of introspective, contemplative posts like this one over the next several months.
and hey – if i write those letters, i’ll post at least parts of them for your consideration as well.
