I didn't get into work today until 10:30 because the Chicago Transit Authority collapsed into the Chicago Transit Anarchy.
Can't believe neither I nor according to Google anyone else has ever made that joke.
Here's another one of them theatre reviews.
So much more I could say about that show.
But I won't.
My job is hard. It's the best office type job I've ever had in many ways. Which isn't saying much. But it's hard. Hard physical labor which is no proper occupation for a man of letters. Mostly I need to remind myself of rules like "Don't put your fingers between two pieces of metal that you're smashing together."
My other new job is theatre criticism, for centerstage.net. This is my first review for them. The reviews are rather short as I'm supposed to keep it to about 400 words. 400 words? Shit, dawg that's what I call an opening paragraph. I quibble slightly with one edit "This Lear is a decrepit Stalinist dictator, presiding over a court of murderous demagogues" The original line was "murderous kleptocrats and demagogues", "kleptocrats" would have been the one to keep, since it's associated so closely with the post-Cold War Eastern Bloc.
I just wanted you all to know that.
I don't like vegetables very much.
I said it, I just don't, particularly green vegetables. I mean, french fries are technically vegetables but you know what I mean. I like cooked, slathered in butter brocolli okay, but I don't cook so I can't really eat that often. But I know humans are supposed to eat absurd amounts of vegetables, according to the government, but really who trusts them anymore. Anyway, I try to eat a couple of bowls of raw spinach a week. Straight up, from the can, Popeye style. I don't like it, it's slimy and disgusting, but it's a green vegetable and I'm eating it damn it. People I suggest I eat it as a side dish with something else, as part of a larger meal. Those people can piss off, I don't want spinach contaminating any other eating experiences.
I read today that our nation's spinach supply may itself be contaminated with e coli. I just ate some anyway. I'm a badass.
Two hours until the premiere of Aaron Sorkin's new TV show, Studio 60. Rock.
I went to the fourth and final wedding of the May-September 2006 cycle yesterday, I realized to my astonishment that I attended one funeral during that time, meaning I have lived the cinematic dream.
(The funeral may have been in April now that I think of it but I'm not going to let it ruin anything)
The wedding was lovely and all but what was most memorable about it in many ways was the arduous journey I took to get to McHenry, IL. An hourlong Metra train ride, followed by a very expensive cab ride. It was fascinating to see that there are still places in the world where cabdrivers are caucasian and they have mullets.
It was worth commenting on since I believe it was my first non-Catholic wedding, except for the pagan "hand fastening" ceremony I attended five years ago. I believe the technical name of that couple's faith was Orthodox Dragonlancian. I must say, while other people were crying and moved and so on, I was thoroughly displeased on the lack of acknowledgement of the fact that Saint Paul, and only Saint Paul, truly understood what love was.
But otherwise it was okay.
Following in my roommate Reina's footsteps, I now have a gig as a theatre critic for the entertainment website, Centerstage. The first show I review will be King Lear at the Goodman. I've always been fairly fond of that play, I'm re-reading it in preparation for seeing it on Tuesday. Between that and recently re-viewing the movie Network, I'm feeling very chipper about humanity right now.
Kurt Touhy, webmaster of whatjailislike.com and all around mensch, has recently re-invigorated his website, Same Day Different Rat and not only is he making references to the Bottled City of Kandor (awesome) he has a brilliant question to ask everyone that I'm still trying to formulate an adequate answer to.
So I was hanging out with one of the website's big fans, Twinters, last night and she was telling her friends how hilarious this site is but chiding me for not posting lately. Which is fair.
The thing is, I've been meaning to, but everything I feel compelled to write about in this space is not so much hilarious as bitter, violent harangues savagely condemning the vicious, lying murderers and thieves who rule us and while normally I'm certainly capable of extracting quite a few giggles out of that material, lately I just haven't been up for it. I've always feared the day that's supposed to transpire for every funny person when your bleakly comic perspective on things becomes just bleak. (See Mark Twain, Kurt Vonnegut, Bill Murray) but it's not scheduled to happen to me for like twenty five years. I'm so damn precocious.
So everywhere I look, I'm reminded that the fifth anniversary of "9/11" (God I hate that insanely unimaginitve terminology, would it have killed them to call it "Bloody Tuesday" or something?) is tomorrow. It's uncomfortable because of just how nakedly and shamelessly aforementioned murderers and thieves get to exploit it. If they had any sense of gratitude they'd thank those thousands of martyrs for the way their sacrifice has enhanced their power every day.
Mostly my beautifully self-centered reaction to the date is this: Five years? Really? Sweet Jesus, I'm old! Can it really have been *that long* since my third and final senior year of college? Twice in the last couple of days I've encountered news stories about people who were like, 12 at the time and are now graduating high school. Get back in your cribs and stop pushing me towards decrepitude!
I'm pretty ashamed of not having posted anything but ya'll check this out: It's a post.