The Long Weekend
I have a lot to post about today, but I’m not sure if I’ll get to all of it, as Mom’s been super-possessive of her computer of late. Here’s hoping she gets over this when classes start, or I’m kinda screwed. (I’m typing this all up in Word, so there really shouldn’t be any spelling errors. Can’t promise anything about the grammar, though.)
Anyway, first item on the list is
Anyway, first item on the list is
Al Hirschfeld
who died yesterday, six months shy of his 100th birthday on June 21. They were to rename the Martin Beck Theater on West 45th after him then (well, they still will, as he’s so beloved by the Broadway crowd). I’m going to miss his caricatures in the Arts section of the Times, and, I’ll admit, I’ll miss searching for the Ninas, which either have gotten easier to find or I’ve gotten better at finding them. I loved his lines, and I loved the dead-on portrayals of film and Broadway stars, among others.
Speaking of film, this past weekend was
Speaking of film, this past weekend was
Movie Weekend
as I somehow persuaded my highly-unbalanced mother to take me to see The Hours and About Schmidt at the art house theater here in Albany on Saturday (our own double-feature about people trying to find their place in the world and society) and then The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (whee! I’ve now seen it three times! for free!) on Sunday at the E-Walk on 42nd (nice, big screen with nice, big sound and stadium seating).
I think anyone who knows me knows how much I would have enjoyed seeing The Two Towers again. (Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!) About Schmidt was not laugh-out loud funny, but it was, in spite of the Golden Globes, a comedy and not a drama, and Jack Nicholson was, indeed, brilliant and award-worthy (he wasn’t Jack, he was Warren Schmidt, retired actuary from Omaha—it was remarkable). Kathy Bates was hilarious as the frightening, aggressive hippy-mom of the groom. And yes, it is frontal, but not full. For those of you who will go blind if they see a nekkid Kathy Bates, cover your eyes when she approaches the hot tub and starts to tug at her robe. But still, I can’t imagine not enjoying this movie, if only for the mullet-factor of laughing at the peculiar fashion tastes on the other side of the Hudson.
I can’t imagine too many of the people I know would enjoy The Hours however, though the performances are brilliant, except for Claire Danes, who only manages not to be her usual gaping black hole of suckness by the merit of the performances around her. The rest is incredible and moving and almost made me cry (which is unusual, unlike my mom, who cried at certain points during The Two Towers—very annoying). However, it is about women being unhappy with their quiet lives and sort of slow-paced and is attended by people like my mom who sniffle loudly at the movie, so I’ve a feeling that, though this is a very good movie with an incredible cast performing brilliantly (I keep using the same damned two words, don’t I?), I don’t think you guys would want to see it. Except for C., in Boston, who has probably already seen it, though I’ve a feeling he’s not reading the blog. I know the other folks I know who are likely to see this film are not reading this blog, as it is against their nature to do so.
Anyway, I enjoyed all three, but I had to suffer being with my mom for extended periods of time. When anyone is with my mom for extended periods of time, they eventually meet psycho-Mom, who turns her mood on a dime for no damned good reason and turns into über-bitch, who is completely impossible to live with, let alone sit with
I think anyone who knows me knows how much I would have enjoyed seeing The Two Towers again. (Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!) About Schmidt was not laugh-out loud funny, but it was, in spite of the Golden Globes, a comedy and not a drama, and Jack Nicholson was, indeed, brilliant and award-worthy (he wasn’t Jack, he was Warren Schmidt, retired actuary from Omaha—it was remarkable). Kathy Bates was hilarious as the frightening, aggressive hippy-mom of the groom. And yes, it is frontal, but not full. For those of you who will go blind if they see a nekkid Kathy Bates, cover your eyes when she approaches the hot tub and starts to tug at her robe. But still, I can’t imagine not enjoying this movie, if only for the mullet-factor of laughing at the peculiar fashion tastes on the other side of the Hudson.
I can’t imagine too many of the people I know would enjoy The Hours however, though the performances are brilliant, except for Claire Danes, who only manages not to be her usual gaping black hole of suckness by the merit of the performances around her. The rest is incredible and moving and almost made me cry (which is unusual, unlike my mom, who cried at certain points during The Two Towers—very annoying). However, it is about women being unhappy with their quiet lives and sort of slow-paced and is attended by people like my mom who sniffle loudly at the movie, so I’ve a feeling that, though this is a very good movie with an incredible cast performing brilliantly (I keep using the same damned two words, don’t I?), I don’t think you guys would want to see it. Except for C., in Boston, who has probably already seen it, though I’ve a feeling he’s not reading the blog. I know the other folks I know who are likely to see this film are not reading this blog, as it is against their nature to do so.
Anyway, I enjoyed all three, but I had to suffer being with my mom for extended periods of time. When anyone is with my mom for extended periods of time, they eventually meet psycho-Mom, who turns her mood on a dime for no damned good reason and turns into über-bitch, who is completely impossible to live with, let alone sit with
In A Car.
I had to spend boat-loads of time with her in the car on Sunday, and she snapped during the credits of the movie, so the ride back was, shall we say, difficult. However, there are methods to keeping oneself entertained while riding in a car, including sounding out license plates, even if they aren’t vanity plates, pointing out VW Beetles and Bugs (Bugs are the old ones and Beetles are the new ones) and Minis and noting their colors (it’s like bird watching). There’s also, if you’re in a more rural area, looking for birds of prey flying over the road (hawk! raptor! eagle! swooooosh) and keeping an eye out at night for deer, who are very pretty and actually very easy to spot due to their very large and reflective, dark eyes. My method of keeping away madness on Sunday was keeping track of the different state plates spotted. Fifteen (possibly sixteen) out of fifty were spotted, plus a province of Canada and a Diplomatic plate. Yes, I counted New York. It’s a state.
This game is beautifully easy to play in the northeast because of all of the tiny states in New England. I’m very proud that I managed to remember all of the postal abbreviations for the states from my days of working databases. Anyway, we saw: New York (natch), Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, New Jersey, Alaska (!! It was a small, red, sports utility vehicle with a vanity plate which read “RDLGHT”), South Dakota (they must think New Englanders are whiny wimps complaining about 20-degree temperatures), Virginia, Massachusetts, Rhode Island (all of the New England states! ha!), Maryland, Georgia, Florida (very similar plates), Michigan, and possibly Minnesota, though we’re still not entirely sure, which is why the count is fifteen (sixteen).
Also spotted: Quebec and a Diplomatic plate with the code AQ. As I recall from my days in the DC area, the country code is the last two digits on the license plate. I have no idea who AQ might be. I suppose I can try and look it up on the internet, but lord only knows if what I find would be accurate.
Quebec is often spotted up here in snow-land. But Alaska, no. What’s neat is we spotted a Hawaii license plate around Christmas-New Year’s, so we have the non-continental U.S. covered now. I’m still wondering why they didn’t just rent a car, rather than bring their car over from Hawaii. I guess it was cheaper?
Speaking of trips to
This game is beautifully easy to play in the northeast because of all of the tiny states in New England. I’m very proud that I managed to remember all of the postal abbreviations for the states from my days of working databases. Anyway, we saw: New York (natch), Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, New Jersey, Alaska (!! It was a small, red, sports utility vehicle with a vanity plate which read “RDLGHT”), South Dakota (they must think New Englanders are whiny wimps complaining about 20-degree temperatures), Virginia, Massachusetts, Rhode Island (all of the New England states! ha!), Maryland, Georgia, Florida (very similar plates), Michigan, and possibly Minnesota, though we’re still not entirely sure, which is why the count is fifteen (sixteen).
Also spotted: Quebec and a Diplomatic plate with the code AQ. As I recall from my days in the DC area, the country code is the last two digits on the license plate. I have no idea who AQ might be. I suppose I can try and look it up on the internet, but lord only knows if what I find would be accurate.
Quebec is often spotted up here in snow-land. But Alaska, no. What’s neat is we spotted a Hawaii license plate around Christmas-New Year’s, so we have the non-continental U.S. covered now. I’m still wondering why they didn’t just rent a car, rather than bring their car over from Hawaii. I guess it was cheaper?
Speaking of trips to
New York
I really miss being there right now. Well, there and employed, so I can do things. Like, attend ET’s birthday dinner, which I missed last year due to the massive suckness of my job. Some day, some day I’ll get to go to that Cajun restaurant, dammit. I also miss not only my friends, but New Yorkers in general. Now, most people believe New Yorkers are rude, nasty people who'd rather throw you in front of a moving train than look at you, but my experience has generally been that real New Yorkers (meaning the non-tourists, who are almost always so rude you want a mugger to find them and beat them badly) are polite ("excuse me" and "thank you"), smile (when you're polite back), and know how to walk or stand in a crowd. I like them.
I don't like the people of Albany.People up here are too ‘tard to cope with being in a crowd, so they are extremely angry and rude all the damned time, be it at a movie theater or waiting to get into a concert hall, like on Thursday. They dress badly and have horrible haircuts and still think they’re fashionable. I don’t mind bad hair and clothes, as long as, like me, the ill-dressed and ill-coiffed person is willing to admit to not giving a shit. These people deeply, deeply care and still look like shit. ‘Cause it’s Albany. And there is nothing of worth up here which didn’t exist long before the white man showed up. Okay, so bad hair and bad clothes don’t make a lousy town, nor are they indicative of it. But cheapness on a monumental scale does. And that the feeling I get from Albany. Cheap. Really, feckin’ cheap.
Like the “restoration” to the old
I don't like the people of Albany.People up here are too ‘tard to cope with being in a crowd, so they are extremely angry and rude all the damned time, be it at a movie theater or waiting to get into a concert hall, like on Thursday. They dress badly and have horrible haircuts and still think they’re fashionable. I don’t mind bad hair and clothes, as long as, like me, the ill-dressed and ill-coiffed person is willing to admit to not giving a shit. These people deeply, deeply care and still look like shit. ‘Cause it’s Albany. And there is nothing of worth up here which didn’t exist long before the white man showed up. Okay, so bad hair and bad clothes don’t make a lousy town, nor are they indicative of it. But cheapness on a monumental scale does. And that the feeling I get from Albany. Cheap. Really, feckin’ cheap.
Like the “restoration” to the old
Palace Theater
here in Albany where I went to see Yo-Yo Ma perform last Thursday. The Palace Theater used to have gold gilding everywhere, which doesn’t do much for me, but.…
Man, this really gets me. My sister is an architect. She’s also twelve years older than I am. I spent, therefore, an inordinate part of my childhood learning about buildings, construction, design, restoration. These were some things which pushed her buttons (she protested, along with Jackie O. and many thousands of New Yorkers, the demolition of Grand Central Terminal back in the early 80’s). So, somehow, I don’t know how, I’ve picked up that, when you restore a building which has gilding in its interior, you are very careful with the existing gold and generally replace it with gold. This is why gilding restoration is so effing expensive that it generally doesn’t happen without a huge amount of supporting capital.
They didn’t have the capital. They just couldn’t raise the money. So, what did they have the folks doing to restoration do? Paint over the gilding with cheap, metallic, gold-toned paint. Never mind the toxic fumes. Never mind that, as far as I could tell from the lousy job I could see, it didn’t look like they removed the gilding before they painted. Gold, people! Gold! Even that much is worth something! Stupid, cheap-ass Albany bastards! And it looks awful. I mean, really awful. I could have been beautiful, like one of the restored theaters in New York City. But, no. They decided to go cheap. And that smell will never go away.
Anyway, the performance.
Man, this really gets me. My sister is an architect. She’s also twelve years older than I am. I spent, therefore, an inordinate part of my childhood learning about buildings, construction, design, restoration. These were some things which pushed her buttons (she protested, along with Jackie O. and many thousands of New Yorkers, the demolition of Grand Central Terminal back in the early 80’s). So, somehow, I don’t know how, I’ve picked up that, when you restore a building which has gilding in its interior, you are very careful with the existing gold and generally replace it with gold. This is why gilding restoration is so effing expensive that it generally doesn’t happen without a huge amount of supporting capital.
They didn’t have the capital. They just couldn’t raise the money. So, what did they have the folks doing to restoration do? Paint over the gilding with cheap, metallic, gold-toned paint. Never mind the toxic fumes. Never mind that, as far as I could tell from the lousy job I could see, it didn’t look like they removed the gilding before they painted. Gold, people! Gold! Even that much is worth something! Stupid, cheap-ass Albany bastards! And it looks awful. I mean, really awful. I could have been beautiful, like one of the restored theaters in New York City. But, no. They decided to go cheap. And that smell will never go away.
Anyway, the performance.
Yo-Yo Ma
was brilliant. Radiant. If he were an elf, he would have been super-glow-y, all star-shiny. The man grooved on his cello, like a guitarist playing rock does in those big-ass rock concerts. Bobbing his head and swaying back and forth and smiling and grunting and nodding at the first violinist or the oboe player (oboist?) when the piece went into dialogue. And his playing showed his passion. I was completely blown away. I’ve never seen him play live before. I’ve only enjoyed his recordings or the occasional concert on PBS. He is now on the short list of performers whose performances I have promised myself I will never miss again. Absolutely mind-blowing. He almost made me cry, his performance with that orchestra (it’s the Albany symphony orchestra, and it was surprisingly good—put Boston to shame) was that beautiful.
Who are the performers? Audra MacDonald, Brian Stokes-Mitchell, Nathan Lane (if you haven’t seen him on a stage, you’ve no idea of how really good he is), and now Yo-Yo Ma. Four people. Okay, maybe there should be more, but I don’t get out as much as I’d like.
Who are the performers? Audra MacDonald, Brian Stokes-Mitchell, Nathan Lane (if you haven’t seen him on a stage, you’ve no idea of how really good he is), and now Yo-Yo Ma. Four people. Okay, maybe there should be more, but I don’t get out as much as I’d like.
Aragorn
One last word about The Two Towers (for today). To be nice, I downloaded the Aragorn screensaver from the official Lord of the Rings website. Mom was thrilled, so much so that she even deigned to thank me, an event which merits note. A couple of weeks later, I downloaded the Aragorn desktop image for her. Again, she was very happy indeed, though, falling back into her natural mode of behavior, she...ah...neglected to thank me. When she finally saw The Two Towers on Sunday, she actually made this gasping-thrill-type exclamation when she first saw Aragorn. Loud. Very loud.
I think I should see if I can’t find some sort of life-sized Aragorn doll. Maybe then she’d get the hell out of my personal life. For, like, a week or so.
I think I should see if I can’t find some sort of life-sized Aragorn doll. Maybe then she’d get the hell out of my personal life. For, like, a week or so.
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