sublime

would you like to hear sublime?

listen to chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1 In E Minor, Op. 11: II - Romance: Larghetto.

i've heard it time and time before... but currently, i'm listening to a recording of emanuel ax. absolutely stunning.

the recording is part of a compilation... a rather pedestrian collection entitled 'chopin for relaxation.' i think i may have bought it for my mother once upon a time... and then, subsequently stole it back as soon as i realized some of the pieces were performed exceptionally well.

however, i take issue with this recording of one of my favorite chopin pieces: Etude In A-Flat 'Aeolian Harp,' Op. 25 No. 1.

i used to play the 'aeolian harp.' it was one of the last pieces i learned before theatre distracted my attention from my piano studies. i do not know who is playing this particular version, but it is not how i hear the music in my head. too fast. too casual. too steady.

the first time i heard that piece was in the final credits of 'the turning point,' a movie with shirley maclain and anne bancroft centered around ballet (the other love of my life). in the final moments, leslie brown dances this beautiful solo in front of the footlights to the etude... so graceful and lovely. an orchestral arrangement was added for the movie soundtrack... and it is so very effective. rubato... overwrought... emotional... satisfying.

i fell in love with that piece the moment i heard it. i was a young girl at the time...perhaps 11 or 12. as this predated IMDB, there was no way for me to know the name of the piece without tracking down the soundtrack... which is even now only available on LP. once i found it, tucked away in a pile of records at the dance studio, i begged my piano teacher to play it and fortunately, she complied.

this piece is called an 'etude' for a reason, though i know its difficulty pales in comparison to some of the other etudes. nevertheless, i was still a child and never before had my hands hurt so much while playing. i was unprepared for the cramping and the pain...but it was so sublime. so wonderful. i have no words to adequately express how i felt as i poured every ounce of my being into those 6 pages of rapid arpeggiated figures. i can't begin to explain..........

i was not born with a desire to play. to the contrary, i was forced to take lessons by my mother. the hour of practice each evening was as important as the daily chores... if not more. it took years of being chained to the piano bench before a genuine appreciation took root in my heart. and then, with an introduction to chopin and debussy (romantic and impressionist), i discovered the dormant desire in my hands. i now thank my mother for offering me this gift.

i now know that i am a complete musical whore. i remember that rhythm was always my weakness. the intended played second fiddle to my idea of how it should be played. i saw no reason to learn the rhythm if i had heard it before... i needed only to see the notes, to know where to place my fingers...the rhythm was dictated by the sweep of my wrists, the surge in my breasts. disrespectful to the composer? perhaps. blasphemy? i know. surely i would be denounced by my teutonic peers... deemed tacky and overemotional. indeed. but what came from my fingertips was the purest expression of who i was at the time. innocent, tender, and sentimental. in retrospect, i sometimes long to play as i once did. utterly lacking self-consciousness. it almost makes me cry to think about it. my love of the piano was never about dexterity...only expression. perhaps an interesting parallel (or contrast) to my life.

as i write this, i realize that this must be what self-taught musicians and composers experience... those unable to read music. when the rigid notes and values are written in an unintelligble language, how can one be accused of disrespect? it then becomes 'interpretation.' how fortunate they are to escape the burden of this responsibility, unfettered by rules, staves, and note values. how liberating.

i have never envied other pianists. what i experienced was so personal...singularly satisfying and precious... and thus, invincible. it didn't matter what anyone else thought of my playing. good or bad, it didn't matter. in all my life, my piano was the one thing that was mine... for no one's benefit but my own. i don't mind playing for others, but i play best when alone. perhaps it is my secret.

i ask only that other pianists show reverence for my music... and it is indeed my music now. and will always be as it was ingrained in my heart and memory.

responsibility

i am angry.

i am angry because i have a neighbor who is a complete jackass.

as i sat on my couch with my boys this morning, i thought to myself that i'd like to write about my dogs...how they bring me such happiness. how fidel's little velvet face makes me melt...and their games with the ball or their toy squirrel never fail to put a smile on my face. but then, i thought, 'no one really wants to read about my gushing over my dogs. we all love our animals. i don't need to brag.'

i take pretty good care of my dogs...sometimes to the point of indulgence. they are fairly obedient, with a few exceptions...most evenings when i open the gate to the yard, they do a quick romp to the end of the block and back before i can corral them inside. on the other hand, i can take them to memorial park and remove the leashes with no fear of their running away. still, i keep an eagle eye on them most of the time, and the few times they have escaped from the yard have nearly given me a heart attack.

sidenote: i have a severe weakness for animals. i can proudly say i have never hit an animal of any kind with my car...though i've nearly destroyed cars in an effort to avoid doing so. but in short, i'm a sucker. i get this from my father. as a child, my dad worked in an area surrounded by open fields, and every week, he would bring home a new stray he had caught...probably some dog the family no longer wanted, cast aside on the side of the road. (i will never understand how people have the heart to do this.) having 2 dogs and 3 cats already, we couldn't keep these animals... so dad would bring them not to the pound, but animal rescue centers where, with a contribution, you could prevent the animal from being euthanized before finding a home. so, one doesn't grow up in this environment without it rubbing off. whenever i see a dog running loose anywhere, i stop my car and try to make sure it's not lost and hurt, etc. (poor cynthia has been in the car with me at least 4 or 5 times in the last couple months when i've embarked on dog rescues...most of the time, in high heels. she drew the line the other day when i tried to shoo the raccoon out of the middle of the road.)

all that being said, my neighborhood is overrun with dog lovers. people are ridiculous about their dogs in southhampton. at any point, you can catch 4 or 5 people walking their dogs down north and south boulevards. i love this, though there are slight annoyances. (the dog park down the street is a tightly run ship...you are almost made to feel as though your dogs should pass some kind of inspection before they are accepted within the gates.) regardless, my dogs are very popular in my area, as they are left visible behind an iron gate on a heavy-traffic corner. they like some of the people who pass by the yard and dislike others. (i can't quite figure out the pattern, but i'm confident they are good judges of character.)

all that being said, i have a neighbor who has a dog that closely resembles mine. his is a miniature pinscher and mine are manchester terriers. it is not unusual for me to see this dog running in the middle of the street at night. alone. sometimes, driving home from an evening out, i can't clearly see the dog, and i momentarily panic that my dogs have escaped. i didn't know where this dog lived...if it was a stray...if it had a collar...why it was in the middle of the road. i have stopped many times, worried about this dog, trying to get him to come to me so that i could safely escort him home. aside from that, people have come knocking on my door several times now...asking if my dogs have gotten out of the yard, having just seen this little min pin. i've seen this dog scurrying around in the rain...at night. mind you, it's a small, BLACK dog. if any animal is aching to get run over, it is this one. so, one morning, i saw it running around, and i tried to follow it. (the comical part is that i followed this dog 2 blocks in my nightgown and robe.) finally, i saw it hop up the steps in front of this house around the corner. the man of the house opened the door (that was closed) and calmly let the dog inside, as if nothing was out of order. i was shocked.
'is that your dog?' i ask.
'yeah. i just let her run around the block. she always comes back,' he says.
'you're serious?' i ask.
'sure,' he says.

i am struck dumb. i am so angry, i don't even know what to say. so, i walk off.

today, i get another knock on the door. another random stranger.

'have your dogs gotten out? there is a little black down down the street, and he is limping,' the man says.

my dogs safely on the couch and knowing exactly which dog to which he was referring, i grab my keys and brush past the man, asking him to follow me.

as i walk the two blocks and around the corner, i explain the situation to him. i am livid. i am tired of this asshole letting his dog run around the neighborhood, leaving the rest of us to worry about hitting it. i am ready to give him a serious piece of my mind. and my partner in outrage(mark, who turns out to be another neighbor down the street) is equally ready to punch this guy's face.

so we knock on the guy's door, and he answers... the dog is somehow at his side, having run home immediately. mark explains that the dogs was limping, and the man says that the dog always favors one leg. (perhaps an injury from running haphazardly around the damn neighborhood?) but this time, his explanation is that his dog is an escape artist. he proceeds to explain that they just can't seem to keep the dog inside. he says that other neighbors have talked to him about this. (yeah...no shit.) and again, i find myself so mad that i can barely speak to this idiot. after hearing his pathetic excuse, mark and i walk back to my place, shaking our heads.

the moral of the story: the NEXT time i see this little dog running around (and i walk up to his house to see the door closed), i am catching that dog and instead of bringing him home, i am going to give it to someone who will take better care of it. and to the jerk who lives at 1622 milford, take responsibility for your animals.

me talk pretty online

i am not fond of webspeak.

i appreciate that internet slang saves time...but i have a beef. we use words like 'awesome' and 'fabulous' all the time in our everyday speech, and i am just as guilty of this as the next person. but how many things are truly awe-inspiring? i choose not to get up in arms about this, because these words and phrases are firmly entrenched in our language along with any number of colloquialisms.

yet, the thing that really bugs me: LOL. i can't stand LOL. you might ask why. because! because when i write LOL, i had better be laughing out loud. like...for real. i had better get a hearty guffaw out of whatever it follows. because otherwise, it is a useless phrase. and believe me, writing something stupid and then, writing LOL after it does NOT make it more funny. to the contrary, it makes it LESS funny...or maybe just distracts me...because suddenly, it reminds me of a 13 year-old girl in a chat room. (not that 13 year-old girls should ever be in chat rooms.)

example of unsolicited myspace message from random stranger: 'miss jenni, you seem like a trouble-maker. LOL.'

okay, so i'm not laughing...are YOU laughing? i mean, is that funny? i know they are trying to be cute and flirty...but all they've made me do is think of goofy, socially-inept guys glued to their keyboards AND 'hello kitty.' AND it prompts me to change my settings to private.

men should NEVER use this phrase. repeat. men should NEVER use this phrase.

smileys, on the other hand, are completely acceptable. :)

NYer than you

i vowed that i would not renew my new yorker subscription when my year was finished. why?

1. the articles are too long...7-10 pages a piece at times.
2. it comes every week, leaving me no time to finish one issue before the next arrived in the mail.
3. i'm convinced that the editors don't read through all the cartoon caption entries, as i've submitted countless captions far more clever than those that win.
4. i'm starting to feel both falsely validated (being one of the pretentious, self-important elitists who subscribe) to intensely inferior and inadequate because i can't manage to finish a single issue before either losing interest or getting frustrated by the esoteric ego-stroking evident in the articles (how's that assonance for ya?).

so, the last 4 or 5 issues have arrived with a dustcover announcing the impending doom of my subscription...'last issue before service interruption'...'don't miss your opportunity to stay up to date with the new yorker'...'no more cartoons?' and i've turned my nose up at each issue. 'i can take you or leave you,' i say casually. i toss it aside...to read later...IF i get around to it.

and so, i finally pick up the last few magazines. and there's this great article about the progress in criminal lie-detection utilizing fMRI technology...the area of expertise of the very friend who turned me on to the NYer in the first place. and then, this great article about the music industry's conundrum with the advent of easy downloads...and how it has actually benefitted the classical music portion of the business. (seriously, what layperson actually downloads schoenberg?) and there was also that great article about the new biography on charles schulz. highlights from the book, his cartoon, and his life outlined in the 10-page article, along with personal anecdotes (such as revealing the squawking, nonsensical speech of the adults in 'peanuts' to be reminiscent of schulz's first wife). not to mention an absolutely fabulous short story ('mr. bones') by paul theroux (of 'mosquito coast' fame), as well as a depressing, but fascinating article about babies with colic and the potential long-term effects it has on both child and parents....that i am both tempted and hesitant to share with the million pregnant friends i have currently. but if that wasn't enough, let me not forget the article on elizabeth lecompte...my hero. the OTHER person i want to be when i grow up...julie taymor being the first. (the founder of the wooster group in NYC, famous for experiemental theatre productions juxtaposing classical rep, pop references, and contemporary aesthetics in a dangerous multimedia blitz.) the feature outlining her childhood, her break-throughs, her relationships, and her recent production of 'hamlet'...all along with a great photo. her hopes, dreams, and fears in a 10-page spread.

and i'm annoyed. i'm annoyed because it seems as though the big guns were brought out in my honor. why, just when i'm content to let my subscription lapse into obscurity, i read the five or six best articles all year?! so, is this the MO? is this the grand plan? skate by with filler until my renewal time?

well, damn. you've won, NYer...you've won. my check is in the mail.

cheater

anyone who has heard my description of last saturday's events knows that my little honda is undergoing some surgery at the moment. my poor car had a BIG scratch on its right side...but on the whole, its cosmetic appearance has been on the decline for a while. there's a dent from a friend opening my car door too quickly and too forcefully against a pole in my garage, some scratches on the front bumber where the dealership drive it against a curb, and the scratches on the back bumper where i backed into those annoying rocks with which people edge their yards to prevent parking, (i HATE those rocks) among other things. point being that i've been feeling a little self-conscious about the look of my fairly young car...this is same car that came back from the repair-shop once upon a time with teeny-tiny pockmarks in the paint, making me cry because my new baby had its first blemishes. so, when the rental car employee picks me up in a new aura, i immediately start to notice this sleek, new acquaintance. the adjustable seatbelt height...the ignition coordinating with the radio and the transmission coordinating with the doorlocks...the way i can open the sunroof and trunk with the push of the alarm button. i even like the more subtle click of the tune signal. suddenly, i sense myself starting to lust after this new car...i like it's smell...it's look in the driveway...the way i feel in the driver's seat. and the thing is, i HAD a saturn...and i HATED it. but i LOVE this car. and i am beginning to devise a plan for how i can keep this car, instead of my honda...some sneaky reason why i deserve the upgrade. it seems only reasonable that the garage and the rental place will go along with this plan.

but this afternoon, i made one observation: the aura's fuel gauge. in only two days, i have used over a third of a tank of gas. this is NOT normal. given my usual driving habits, i can drive over two weeks on one tank of gas in my honda. thus, the aura is flawed. and as i am sitting there, embraced by the cushions of this unfamiliar travel companion, i have this overwhelming feeling that i have been cheating on my car. and i genuinely feel guilty. do i admit this infidelity to my honda...or do i just pretend it never happened?

in any case, i miss you, baby. looking forward to having you back.

addicted

so, i just got home from a fantastic show tonight. dashboard confessional. was a solo performance with chris carrabba (singer) and john lefler (guitarist). i grew up with john lefler's little brother and spent a fair amount of time at the lefler household back in the day. turns out pappa lefler was at the performance...was nice to stop and say hello. and the concert was fantastic. i mean, REALLY good. more on that later...

i get home and what's on TV but 'sleepless in seattle.' and i swear, i cannot see that movie on television without stopping to watch it. and every time i watch it, i cry bucketloads. doesn't matter if i see the whole thing or the last ten minutes, i cry...EVERY SINGLE TIME. i LOVE that movie. that's all.

morgan for president

so, i've gotten more and more interested in video commentaries on film DVDs. i especially enjoy listening to the commentary by the directors...getting perspective on why a scene was shot this way or that. what that tiny little prop in the background meant to the scene, the actors in the scene, or even just the crew. the odd costuming choices...or the happy mistakes that become the moments of brilliance. basically, all the little details that don't even hit our register when first watching a film. the first time i really took the time to watch a director commentary on a film was several years ago with 'american beauty.' and the moment i knew these commentaries were invaluable to me even as a stage director was when sam mendes described one of the opening scenes in which lester (kevin spacey) is talking to a client on the phone at work while looking in his computer screen. the scene is shot from behind, so we see lester's face as a reflection on the screen. and mendes was talking about how the text on the screen originally ran horizontally... until he decided to try several narrow columns of text running across the screen. the effect? when you see lester's face reflected in the screen along with the text, he appears to be behind bars... imprisoned. this moment lasts for no longer than 2 minutes. i can't say i consciously noticed this choice when watching the movie, but these details surely resonate with us on a subconscious level. subtle, but brilliant.

so, last night, after getting home from a gala, i decided i would watch the brand new 'special edition/feature' DVD of 'se7en' i just bought. (perhaps not the best movie to watch after a stressful day and right before bed.) in any case, i am now watching the commentary involving morgan freeman, brad pitt, and david fincher, the director. and let me just say that i have always been a brad pitt fan...not because he's attractive (frankly, he's not my type), but because i think he is a really intelligent actor. especially in his smaller roles, he brings a depth of character that is fairly rare...i'm thinking 'snatch' or '12 monkeys.' david fincher is a bit less articulate than some of the other directors i've heard. i knew that he had directed 'fight club,' but what i didn't know was that he started out primarily as a video director in the 80's and 90's. sting, paula abdul, madonna, etc. interesting. suddenly, the opening titles of 'seven' (set to NIN's 'closer') make sense style-wise. still, fincher's very pragmatic approach is interesting to hear. BUT (and this is what makes this DVD worth every penny) morgan freeman is also included in this commentary...and actors, if you haven't listened to freeman talk about character development, you need to. every time i hear that man speak, i am convinced he is a genius. he IS indeed far closer to the character he plays in 'se7en' than one might think in terms of education. the first movies i remember associating with morgan freeman as a child were 'glory,' 'driving miss daisy,' 'lean on me,' and most significantly, 'the power of one.' (if you have not read or seen 'the power of one,' i suggest you do so. amazing story and film.) freeman has always struck me with this profound sense of wisdom and dignity...it's really pervasive in every character he plays. so, back to the commentary...

fincher and pitt are discussing the scene in which sommerset (freeman) puts it together that the murders are associated with the seven deadly sins. and he's listing the sins off his fingers to the others. and the way he does so is so deliberate and elegant. and both pitt and fincher remark on this...as well as the deep, resonant quality of his voice. 'the god voice,' so to speak. and fincher continues to say that he thought freeman was an excellent casting choice for president in 'deep impact'...and that he would vote for him. YES! some of you know i have been saying morgan freeman should run for president for YEARS. is this ridiculous? well, is it any more ridiculous than ronald reagan? ...or the clown we have in office currently? if i could any one person who, on image alone, could have a serious shot at randomly running for political office, it would be morgan freeman. so... why not? morgan for president!

interesting related fincher quote: "I don't know how much movies should entertain. To me, I'm always interested in movies that scar. The thing I love about Jaws is the fact that I've never gone swimming in the ocean again."

best quote from se7en: "just because the fucker has a library card doesn't make him yoda."

off the grid: my new thoughts on immigration

let me preface this blog with the suggestion that some might find it offensive. that being said, i'm very upset. here is why:

today, i was involved in a hit and run accident. i was driving along travis street...a detour i took to avoid traffic on the way to help out with my friend's theatre company's gala. while driving in the far left lane, i get hit by a car to my right as we are crossing west alabama. as soon as i can take stock of what happened, the car had backed up and sped off down west alabama. this happened so fast that i couldn't get a good look at the license plate. not content with this injustice, my temper got the best of me, and i took off on a wild chase to catch up with this bastard. so, i started my car back up and followed him. he managed to get through a red light right before me...so he was quite a ways ahead. i suppose he thought he was safe, but i kept an eye on him as he drove away down alabama. i was able to see where he turned off...at some point, he became aware of my following him and started driving faster. but finally, i was able to trap him between two cars...at which point, i parked my car in such a way that he was blocked and couldn't drive away.

sidenote: i realize this was absolute insanity. had this man been violent, i could be dead right now.

so, he got out of the car. and i gave him a piece of my mind. of course, as soon as i stand up out of my car, my legs start to wobble and give out under me. (shock setting in.) but i am so angry that i will not get back in my car for fear of his driving off again. regarding the man who hit me...hispanic. didn't speak english. driving what appeared to be a fairly new potiac grand prix. all new stickers. we will call this man joe for the sake of discussion.

joe couldn't understand anything i was saying. i told him i thought it was pretty terrible that he hit me and then, drove away. blank stare. no response. fortunately, he wasn't angry. it was only when i told him that i was going to call the police that his ears perked up. 'policia?!'

'si.'

so, i call the police, because at this point, i become increasingly convinced that i am going to be out of luck in this situation. that joe won't have insurance...nor any way to compensate me for the damage done to my car. the whole right side of my car is smashed...what appears to be thousands of dollars of damage. how on earth will joe pay for it? in any case, i want a police report. i speak very slowly and make big gestures of getting his license plate number and pictures of the car. in other words, i wanted to make it very clear that he shouldn't try to leave again. the police operator suggests that i only get his license plate and file a report at the station later. i'm stubborn and don't accept this suggestion. the operator tells me it will be a bit, since there was a disturbance to which several officers were responding. i tell her that's OK...that i will wait. (honestly, i would rather the police potentially prevent someone from getting hurt before they come to me.)

so, eventually my dad shows up, as well as the police probably 30 minutes later. the first police officer who shows up gets all the basic information from me, but is at a loss since she doesn't speak any spanish. finally, a second officer arrives who does. he divines that joe:
a. doesn't have insurance
b. doesn't have a valid texas driver's license
c. has only an expired mexican license

in other words, there is a 95% chance joe is illegal. i ask the officers if he is. one gives me a dry look and said, 'what do you think? but, thanks to our dear mayor, we can't ask or we'll get fired.'

sidenote #2: i appreciate that joe is being cooperative. i also find out that he is only 23...although i would have guessed mid-thirties, as he looks much older. as mad as i am about my car and the fact that i will most likely be paying out of my pocket for something that wasn't my fault, a part of me feels very sorry for joe. he's probably just some young, stupid kid who is scared. however, i don't want to paint him as an unfortunate, as his clothes and car did not suggest that he was financially struggling in the dire sense.

anyways...the police are civil to joe, but ticket him on 3 accounts:
a. moving into my lane and colliding
b. failure to have insurance
c. failure to have a driver's license

i ask about fleeing the scene. the officer tells me that since i actually caught him, they can't ticket him for it. go figure.

at some point, the spanish-speaking officer tells me that joe has mentioned paying for the damages to my car. he suggests i take the offer, but that i be careful about how i handle it. the other officer gives me some 'off the record' advice...that i invoke the name of the police to get the payment from joe. i think it is probably unwise to get falsely hopeful. this was someone who tried fleeing the scene...is it likely this is necessarily someone who will fulfill his debts? in any case, the officer suggests i threaten to show up on his court date. i don't like this kind of game-playing, but i am also not keen on being held accountable for the whole accident. what is the right thing to do?

but the whole matter leads me to my bigger point: illegal aliens. folks, i am as sympathetic to the cause as i can be. i believe immigration should be possible for people of all extractions... from any country, etc. but this can be accomplished legally. i do not suggest it is easy, but can we really be tolerant of people living off the grid? i was just telling someone the other day about my affinity for mexico city. it's irrational, but i would have to say that i prefer dirty, crowded mexico city to any other place i've traveled. why? because i got this incredible rush being there. it was exciting...but profoundly scary. why was it scary? because standing in the crowded zocalo, i had the sensation that i could have been ripped off the street, dragged down a remote alleyway, and NEVER heard from again. in a lawless land like mexico, it is possible to fall completely off the grid. and while terrifying, i was fascinated by this feeling. it made everything immediate and amplified the feeling of being alive...survival.

having come back from mexico city, i tried to explain that sensation to my friends who had never been there. and i failed miserably, since i couldn't compare to anything else i had experienced. it was only when i watched the denzel washington movie 'man on fire' that i finally had any point of comparison. the first scene features someone getting abducted from the zocalo...and THAT feeling of terror is exactly what i was trying to express.

today's experience made me think of things in a different light. there is no easy solution to the illegal immigrant problem. but can we just be lenient? should houston be a refuge for illegal immigrants? i feel it important to stress that these sentiments are not influenced by prejudice. i strongly feel that the ethnic diversity of houston is part of what makes it so special. and furthermore, i have the utmost respect for those immigrants who go through the painstaking process of becoming legal. but had i taken the operators advice today, i would have had an absolutely meaningless license plate number. a license plate number that couldn't be connected to a driver's license...nor any person. why? because there was no driver's license. so, a person like myself is left with absolutely no recourse at all. no way to seek justice. mind you, this was a car accident...what if it had been a rape or murder? how can we pursue someone or punish someone who, according to our records, doesn't exist?

i think we should all think carefully about this situation before we get up in arms either way about the immigration problem. consider how you might feel the next time a 'nonexistent' person attacks you, steals your things, or hits your car and tries to run. i am left torn...not knowing how best to proceed. i have no desire to cause trouble for joe or his family...but should he not have some responsibility towards me? should he not have some responsibility to follow our city's laws, as someone enjoying the benefits of living here?

nothing in this world comes for free. if you leave one country for something better, that, too, comes at a price...should it not be the price of legally calling yourself an american?

houston arts: damn straight

Arts have $600M effect on Houston

Houston Business Journal - by Christine Hall Reporter

Cultural arts may not bring in as much money as the oil and gas industry, but a report released Monday shows the sector is a valuable part of the Houston economy.

"The Business of the Arts: A Look into The Economic Impact of the Arts on the Houston Region" showed that in 2004, the nonprofit arts in Houston brought in $626.3 million, supported 14,115 full-time jobs and generated $69.5 million in local and state government revenue.

Mayor Bill White, at a luncheon, said Houston is one of the up-and-coming venues in the arts world. "We want people 50 years or 100 years from now to talk about the explosion in Houston arts," he said.

The study also found that the 9.2 million people who said they attended an arts and cultural event in 2004 was twice the number of people attending events related to Houston's three major league professional sports teams in 2005.

The 1.6 million visitors to Houston who attended cultural events in 2004 spent $132 million in addition to the cost of their tickets, the survey found.

"Houston is not just a good places for the arts, it is one of the best," said Larry Faulkner, president of Houston Endowment Inc., a philanthropic institution founded in 1937 by Jesse and Mary Gibbs Jones.

"The arts are a powerful business asset and one we need to have for Houston to remain a leading city in the future and to keep its extraordinary economic vitality," he said.
Volunteerism was also a big factor in Houston's cultural events, according to the study. More than 34,000 individuals volunteered for arts and cultural organizations in 2004, contributing more than 650,000 hours worth more than $11.2 million.

Funding for the project, consulted by St. Louis-based AMS Planning & Research, was provided by The Brown Foundation, Houston Endowment and The Wortham Foundation.

4 musings

1. puppies:

so i get email updates from petsmart. i use banfield, the associated vet. a few days ago, i received an email from them entitled,' loving your pet to death.' thinking this was probably some inoocuous sale anouncement, i opened it to read a rather shocking email about pet obesity. apparently, not only are our children getting fat...so are our pets. the email goes on to illustrate the dangers of over-feeding your pets. and so, of course, i start to panic about poor fidel. i have tried to feed him smaller portions, but this is a rather undiscerning animal that will eat anything if he's hungry. (he has spit up full pecans before.) that being said, dieting is easier said than done for my little fuzzy. and even walking is difficult, because i have to take both dogs...and fidel can never keep up with faulkner for very long. so, must i resign myself to this? must i feel guilty every time i give him a biscuit? poor baby.

2. dancing around my apartment:

last saturday, i spent all morning dancing around my apartment. i had the music playing while i cleaned, and one tune just got me moving. and somewhere, mid-shimmy...i got a brilliant idea for an upcoming play project. that's always a wonderful feeling...when some light bulb goes off in your head and you suddenly have direction. i love that moment of sparked inspiration! now, if i could only remember my great idea....

3. stage mothers:

i am not so sure i enjoy stage mothers. by this, i am not necessarily talking about the women who put pressure on their kids to perform. i'm talking about the next level of stage mothers: the mothers whose children already perform and who might go on tour with their children for a given show. i respect the need for a child to be close to his or her mother, but this situation creates a new breed. so, last night, i'm at a party and these children are running around like comanches. screaming and yelling and playing tag in the middle of a reception for our major donors...with expensive glassware in hand and whatnot. and i am shocked...because these mothers just sat back obliviously as their kids wreaked havoc on the party....children aged 5 to 13. mind you, it is midnight! and the mothers are talking amongst themselves like nothing is out of order. and at one point, the children create a hideout near the coat-check and are yelling at one another...and one child screams at the top of her lungs. and i politely ask the kids to keep it down, when this one little girl screams again. it appears as though she is screaming back at me, and i give her a look that would freeze ice. (seriously... these children should really know better.) and thankfully, the girl looked terrified and got quiet...for a minute anyways. and throughout this experience, i come to 3 conclusions:

-touring with these children must be the best birth control method...EVER.

-it is indeed possible for people to be so removed from reality that they have no sense of propriety.

-these children have hard lives ahead of them. god have mercy on the show-biz kid.

4. bjork

this is random, but it must be said. on my drive yesterday, i came across 'dancer in the dark' on one of my mix CDs, and it reminded me of bjork's oscar performance...and the subsequent flurry of fashion gossips mocking her for her oscar garb faux-pas. but you know...i really, REALLY liked that swan dress. and i admire her for being enough of her own person to unabashedly wear it. i even liked the egg purse. so there.

true blue, madonna, i love you

time. i never know where the times goes. this is certainly worthy of another blog at another time...surely one to explain why i've been a little MIA the last couple of weeks. but for today...i'll focus on this weekend. so, i found myself on an impromptu road trip friday night. i needed to decompress from the week, so i didn't mind the time to just focus on the road and drive. i grabbed two folders of my CDs...one containing soundtracks and compilations, the other containing mostly mix CDs i made many moons ago. after singing along at the top of my lungs to the first half of the first rent CD, i realized i was getting hoarse. (side note: i was surprised that i could still remember every single word to every single song...after not having listened to it in probably 6 years. gotta love angsty teenagers and their obsessions.)

so after a little 'rent' and 'chess,' i pop in the 'immaculate collection.' and i haven't listened to madonna in a setting when i was at liberty to think about it for years. but it brought back so many memories. when i was a little kid, i remember having this little pink radio. (ah, the 80's.) this radio went with me everywhere, and audio tapes were the invention of the gods! every weekend, i would go outside in my back yard...inventing stories with my yorkie, recording nature sounds, and documenting our adventures with this little pink radio. this little pink radio was also used for more practical purposes...like recording piano lessons. but most often, this pink radio was my ticket to pop star land. the first 2 tapes i ever remember having were madonna's 'like a virgin' and 'true blue.' my parents didn't buy these for me...i believe i must have confiscated them from my older brother, who was in high school at the time. (it's certainly not the last time i ever confiscated music from my brother. 'no, robert, i don't know where those sting and peter gabriel CDs are.') in any case, i remember dancing around my yellow bedroom and singing along to 'like a virgin,' complete with high-pitched yelps. let it be said that i am sure i am not the first nor only 6/7 year-old to have done that...madonna inspired a whole generation little girls to reminisce about our 'purer' days. and i remember thinking that she looked so pretty on the album cover...and yet, so bad. if only i knew what i was singing about at the time!

then came 'true blue,' and everything changed. in my childlike eyes, madonna seemed a bit more wholesome. for a minute perhaps...and despite 'pappa don't preach.' her voice was stronger, her songs more consistent...and she was now a blonde. this was indeed the beginning of a new era. whereas i only knew a few songs from 'like a virgin,' i memorized every single track on 'true blue.' every single one. i danced the salsa to 'la isla bonita,' imagining myself in some ruffled, off-the-shoulder peasant dress on some tropical island. (san pedro? where's that?) then, there was 'open your heart,' which i firmly believed captured my feelings about whatever crush i had at the time...my rendition of that was particularly heart-felt. and last but not least, there was 'live to tell,' which was one of my favorite songs for many years following. i remember performing my own dramatic interpretation of that song for my dogs and stuffed animals...they were the fortunate audience for a great many of my dramatic endeavors at that age. i used to re-enact TV commercials for them...i was determined i could be more convincing than whichever woman was pushing dawn dishwashing soap or campbell's soup. (did everyone do this? ...or was i just a strange little kid?)

regardless, the point is that, listening to these songs the other night, i was transported back to a time that i remember very vividly. back when my brother drove 'jack,' the white ford grenada. when he was in high school and i, elementary. when i was convinced every molly ringwald/brat pack movie was just like his everyday reality. when i played with 'my little ponies' and lusted after my neighbors 'jelly shoes.' (my mom never bought me jelly shoes...i think she thought they were tacky. of course, i was an odd kid who never asked for things, so i probably never told her i wanted them.) when all my stuffed animals had specific personalities and when i thought barbie was a little slutty. when places like 'federated' existed...and when my brother and i would spend the summer mornings mowing lawns, then the afternoons, at the neighborhood pool. (well, he mowed lawns, and i usually watched.) when garfield was cool and i had a pink rabbit phone, with red eyes that lit up when it rang. when i watched my brother's tape of back to the future everyday and thought leah thompson was the most beautiful woman in the world. when i wrote little stories about rabbits and mice... (i had an obsession with rabbits and mice at the time, due to my love for movies like 'the secret of nimh' and 'watership down.' i would write these little stories and bind them into make-shift books, and my mother still laughs about the earnestness of my 'diane and corey' books...yes, there was indeed a series.) when i wanted to be sarah jessica parker in 'girls just want to have fun.' when i would basically rewrite the story of 'girls just want to have fun'...except with mice and rabbits. (don't ask me how a child's logic works.)

ah...good memories.

i leave you with this, madonna: a tribute to you...

the rainbow connection

rainbows. on wednesday, i was having a very bad day. no, it wasn't due to humberto and the impending deluge...other things were weighing on my mind.

so, i drove home with the expectation of a quiet evening on the couch to calm my nerves, and on the ride homeward, the clouds had parted in one corner of the sky to reveal a rainbow. and i think to myself, 'how can i be in a bad mood or feel sorry myself when i see something like this?'

how can a rainbow suddenly lift my mood? how can the appearance of the rainbow not put a smile on someone's face? why is this?

is it because it happens so rarely? is it because it is beautiful? a natural phenomenon? or is it what rainbows represent? or is it perhaps a reminder of a simpler time in our lives...when we doodled rainbows and suns and birds and hearts with big crayola crayons? (i was just coloring rainbows, per her request, with my dear 5 year-old niece a week ago.)

so, having just looked 'up 'rainbow' via wikipedia, i read:

In Greek mythology, the rainbow was considered to be a path made by a messenger (Iris) between Earth and Heaven.

In Christian and Jewish scripture, the rainbow is interpreted as a sign of the covenant between God and man, and the biblical God's promise to Noah that he would never again flood the entire Earth.

Historically, a rainbow flag was used in the German Peasants' War in the 16th century as a sign of a new era, of hope and of social change.

just what i imagined. it only makes sense that people have associated rainbows with heaven. but why? because they were once unexplainable and thus, attributed to the divine? because they are in the sky? i don't really think so. i see them and it's a different feeling that stirs in my breast...

faith.

when i see a rainbow, i think of faith. i think of my faith. faith not only in the divine, but faith in people...in situations...in things like love and goodness and truth. how can i be a realist (and periodically, a closet cynic) and yet, have so much faith in my life?

when people ask me about my favorite movie, i can say, without a doubt, that it is 'contact.' they are sometimes baffled by my answer as a thespian, as it is not known for being particularly artful. and then, after a moment's thought, they figure it is because of the sci-fi connection...which admittedly, plays a part. but i love that movie because it is about faith. it is about believing something so profoundly in your heart that you KNOW it to be true. to know god exists. to know aliens exist. to know you don't know everything. to know you could be wrong...but that it doesn't matter, because the act of having faith and expressing faith is quite possibly enough in and of itself.

so often, we allow ourselves to be swayed by the everyday trials...the routine...as well as by our fears, our jealousies, our petty concerns. how often are we stopped in our tracks by true expressions of faith?

i was watching the movie 'pay it foward' a little earlier. and dismiss it as sentimental or preachy if you must, but it illustrates such a wonderful idea. the concept is so simple and yet, so profoundly beautiful. to have faith in change. to have faith in people and to make an act in the good faith that the effort, the love, and the generosity will not stop with you. utopian? perhaps. but with only small steps, we may make big changes. it's the little things, as well as the big things.

there is one moment in the movie in which a junkie talks a woman down from a ledge. holding out his hand to this hysterical woman, he tells her that all he could think about was his next fix until he saw her about to jump. and he calmly says, "have coffee with me. you can save me. please...save my life."

yes, this is surely drama made for the movies. and perhaps we won't be saving someone's life. but maybe with that unsolicted smile to the stranger on the street, you have made some small difference. is that something to dismiss? we could all critisize ourselves for not doing more...not giving enough to charity, not volunteering enough or spending enough time in productive service of others...or simply not always being so considerate or kind. but a smile is not so difficult, is it? perhaps these small things might eventually coalesce into something indeed life-changing or live-saving.

[apparently, an attempt to implement this principle is being made by this organization: http://www.payitforwardfoundation.org/get_involved.html]

so, to address my original question...rainbows. to me, rainbows represent faith. and despite the fact rainbows have been explained by science, maybe i choose to believe they are a sign...in fact, on wednesday, i KNOW the rainbow was a sign. knowledge (scientific and otherwise), observation, and pragmatism are certainly valuable. there is no doubt that faith should come with questions...to be sure, it should be the questions that strengthen your faith. and yet, i have faith in my sign. don't let your own magic be taken away...

disjointed part 2: why whole foods bites

whole foods.
man, i am starting to hate me some whole foods.
for real.
how is it that 2 people can go to whole foods for some lunch in the prepared foods section and leave $30 later? lunch for two? what? wtf. i have had a love/hate relationship with whole foods from day one. i LOVE the fruit section. just walking through inspires me to eat more greens...and their fruit always looks delicioso. so i buy a bunch of it and take it home...only to have that all-natural, pesticide-free, organic greenery turn brown before i have a chance to eat it. it's the equivalent of a produce prick-tease. not to mention the fact that you pay twice as much for it. and then, there's the prepared foods. in college, i used to love to make the trek to whole foods for the bento boxes. 3 sides and a main dish from their asian foods section in a box to go for $5.99. (the teryaki sweet potatoes are enough to send me reeling.) sound too good to be true? of course. because as soon as it became a habit, they discontinued the fresh bento boxes. to be replaced by the pre-packaged variety in which you get one or two of your favorite choices, but not all. of course. and why? 'consistency from store to store,' says the boy behind the counter. OK.

so, i resent whole foods for a while. i boycott. but the seed-duction bread and chipotle hummus lure me back. once again. (that and the bigger selection of 'ethnic gourmet' dinners.) so then, i get turned on to this sandwich there. roasted turkey, spinach greens, brie, and cranberry jam...on what? seed-duction bread. i would crave this sandwich...and would drive to whole foods during lunch for it. i campaigned in my office...endeavored to spread the gospel of this delicious turkey sandwich to my friends and coworkers. and suddenly, the sandwich suddenly disappeared off the shelves. this happens around february. 'ok,' i think. 'it's a winter-time sandwich. cranberry evoke memories of dressing. etc etc etc.' so, i imagine this sandwich is a seasonal thing and will magically appear come labor day. right? wrong!!!

so, today...i emerge from my kingdom of sick to get lunch. because i literally have the most batcheloresque fridge in existence at the moment. i don't even have cans of green beans to eat. and i get excited at the prospect of my beloved turkey sandwich in my belly. and yet again, empty shelf where they used to lie. so, perhaps a bit cranky and over-medicated, i march over to the sandwich counter and ask about it. something along the lines of 'when are you guys going to put the best sandwich you've ever made back on the shelves?' and this guy looks at me with this cold expression and says, 'like, never.' then, he smirks. and unsatisfied with this answer, i press further. 'why not?' i ask. he replies, 'because we were losing money on that sandwich.' it was $6.99, by the way. 'how so?' i ask. i mean, $7 seems reasonable, right? i mean, not a cheap sandwich by grocery store standards. he answers, 'in order to meet our profit margin, that sandwich would need to cost $14."

*pause*

ok, wtf?! i wasn't going to shoot the messenger, but what?! whole foods has done lost its mind. what kind of profit are we talking about at $14?! but the bigger point being this: i am kind of mad that i am not, at the very least, given a choice. so, i wouldn't spend $14 on a daily basis for this sandwich, but i wouldn't mind splurging on it every once in a while. i mean, it's up for debate on whether people would pay $14 for this sandwich. seriously...it was a really good sandwich.

how did this little escapade end? by my opting for a thai chicken wrap and some smart water. but the kicker? they no longer carry smart water...and have since replaced it with their own brand of lightly flavored water. bah humbug.

whole foods is the new walmart.

disjointed part 1: hamlet & local street artists

so today's blog will be an amalgam of things. usually, i will see, hear, experience something that inspires me to write. but in this case, several days have passed in which things got me as far as *thinking* about blogging, but not actually writing. so...here goes. (if typos abound, it is my cold medicine kicking in. i am pretty sick.) in no particular order:

1. hamlet. as of today, 64 movies appear on imdb under the name of hamlet. 64. so i have never actually seen the version with ethan hawke. until this evening. mixed feelings. casting sam shephard as hamlet's ghost=brilliant. i buy ethan hawke as hamlet...he is surely capable. and julia stiles, fair enough. (although i prefer her in contemporary movies based on shakespearean themes...think 'O' and '10 things i hate about you.') but kyle maclachlan as claudius and bill murray as polonius? no. kyle maclachlan is about the most uncompelling claudius i have EVER seen. ever. and bill murray, god love him, should never ever do shakespeare again. his casual air completely works against the poetry of the language. i am not as schooled in the bard as i'd like, but that casting choice seems reasonable only in the most superficial way. (i see that this job fell right after rushmore and thus, he was still climbing the come-back trail.)

on the whole, i am typing this as the movie is playing, so it obviously hasn't successfully grabbed my attention enough to focus. from a directorial perspective, i do not believe the concept has been well-defined. i don't mind the updated angle, but everything has been rendered so casual and nonchalant that i fail to see the theatricality of the piece. the world of the play is not as dire or as extreme as it need be for the plot to seem plausible. it aims at edgy and lands at luke-warm. so angsty on hawke's part that it almost feels more like dawson's creek meets cruel intentions. (but without as much sex or eye-candy. sadly. even i can tolerate sarah michelle gellar for the glib ryan phillipe and a good soundtrack.) i digress. consider baz lurhmann's romeo and juliet, which i think is absolutely brilliant by comparison. sure, the psychadelic, ADD-inspired images and pace can grow a bit tiresome and at the time, i remember finding details (such as the engraved 'longsword' on the guns) a little clumsy. but i also was completely caught up in the world that lurhmann created...and all the elements worked together to reinforce the impact of the environment, despite a few missteps. (plus, mercutio as a drag queen was probably one of the most brilliant and yet, seemingly obvious choices i have ever seen. i have always found mercutio prone to queening out, especially in the nureyev/fontaine ballet version... mercutio takes about 20 minutes to die in one long, drawn-out roll around the floor.) point being, you either loved lurhmann's version or hated it. i can't say i find hawke's version particularly inspiring either way. (i now laugh b/c i call it hawke'sversion of hamlet versus lurhmann's version of r&j. where is the director? who is almereyda? directed...an episode of deadwood?)

*so i MUST pause here, as we have arrived at the play part. (i am clinging on to see jeffrey wright as the gravedigger, in hopes that he will redeem what is becoming an increasingly bad movie.) the play. or movie in this case. *sigh* i don't even know what to say in response to that almodovar meets fellini meets donna reed tidbit. the high point is when hamlet leaves the theatre and jumps into the taxi with r&g and the cab meows at them. (i REALLY missed the fact the cabs don't meow anymore and was totally disappointed the last time i was in NYC.)

*i do like ophelia's mad scene in the guggenheim. the primal scream over the balcony was a genuinely nice touch.

OK...one last thought before moving on to other topics. looking at the cast list for hamlet, it all seems like a decent idea...with the exception of kyle maclachlan. (seriously, his most memorable movie role was in showgirls. he should thank sex in the city for redeeming him to some degree.) one the whole, it appears as though the director had only a vague idea of what he wanted and failed to fully utilize some of the talent he had at his disposal. only hawke and stiles (and diane verona as gertrude) seem to have a full grasp on the gravity of the content. so far, i give it a D.

2. graffiti. i have become increasingly aware recently of some of the graffiti appearing in my neighborhood. mind you, i am not talking about tagging.

i have noticed 'give up' for years. then, i noticed knitta...then the little tile pac-mans (who does that, by the way? i LOVE it.) i now have noticed the toothy ghost faces on windows...and on some signs and walls. and i must admit that, though more crude in style and destructive in medium, i think they are pretty cute. (want to see one? look closely at the 'shoot em up' posters plastered on the side of the convenience store catty-corner to brasil.) apparently, these ghosts are the work of 'ack.' i have not seen these new faces on private property yet, so some questions arise. especially in light of the new developments on 'give up.' i have seen two of his razor blades covered over with what appears to be...a rabbit? at first glance, it looked like a bunny. then, just a blob to obscure the blade...then, after seeing a similarly shaped blob over another razor blade, i think a bunny again...? in any case, it adds 'never' to the 'give up' mantra. interesting. and i must say, i am totally intrigued. i want to know more. if you live/work in the montrose/museum district area and you haven't noticed these things, open up your eyes, friends! anyways, i find myself amused/interested/curious by all this, but i wonder where we draw the line. while i enjoy these little curiosities, i imagine they annoy others. and of course, i imagine city officials aren't loving these additions to the urban landscape. so, where is the balance? i would like the feedback of my friends on this one. what are your thoughts?

white linen nights

perhaps i should move. this city can sometimes be claustrophobic. not sure if i like it or if it is suffocating. i think i like it, but i may sound peevish for the sake of this blog. if you're not in the mood for a self-indulgent recount of last night's happenings, stop here.
so last night: white linen night in the heights. whatever that means. in my case, it meant buying a little white and red linen number i would have never bought had there not been a dress code directive.

so M has a birthday today. we started our celebrations late afternoon...at the b-day party of a recent acquaintance of hers. i did not know said acquaintance, nor anyone mentioned when M is relating her chance meeting. so, i figure i won't know anyone...until i walk in and see a friend of an ex-boyfriend that i haven't seen in about 8 years. 1st random encounter.

we proceed to a series of galleries in the area. at the 3rd stop, run into miss N and gang, shoulder in sling and all...still looking astoundingly beautiful. (how does she do that?) didn't know miss N was going to be around, but not surprised, as i know N through the art set. as always, thrilled to see her. and meet her mom. (spoke with a fantastic collaborative artist...friend of M's. want one of his prints.) M and i part ways with miss N, and when waiting for the shuttle proves futile, M runs into two random friends of hers, and we catch a ride to 19th street with them. (we'll call these two gorgeous 1 and gorgeous 2. as is expected when meeting two dapperly dressed, GQ-inspired-if-it-weren't-so-cliched-not-to-mention-passe guys, they were a couple.) gorgeous 1 met M through a party i think. gorgeous 2 works for magazine. said magazine did feature last oct or nov on my theatre and partners. gorgeous 2 happened to work on that article. he also worked on recent article in same publication featuring M. random 2.

19th street. after 2 minutes, i see friend with whom i went to the music school. with wife. (fondest memory of music school friend was, after his systematically sitting next to me every day in theory and unmistakably hitting on me, finding out he had been dating a girl forever. coincidentally, his present wife. go figure.) that being said, s'all water under the bridge, but i nonetheless wasn't up to niceties, so M and i duck into a shop. where she runs into another acquaintance. exchange pleasantries with acquaintance and his side-kick in electric blue (apparently, he didn't get the white memo) and agree to meet for a drink next door at shade.

once next door at shade, we see not acquaintance and electric blue, but another friend of ours, S. didn't know S was going to be around. S is at the bar waiting for his entourage...i say this not due to S's pretense, but because S retains the sort of style that makes you wonder if he invented the white linen shirt. (although his was off-white... beige, if you will.) and furthermore, he also seems like a person who should have an entourage...mostly because of how the word sounds when said with his name. (i like to give S a hard time. he likes it.) since S is more or less stuck, we bid him farewell and continue our journey.

shortly thereafter, we run into acquaintance and blue-boy again. the crowds are getting thicker. it's becoming more and more difficult to navigate the aisles of the stores and innards of the galleries. M and i somehow run into the b-day posse again at M2. while there, i run into another unrelated person, kitty L. very happy to see miss kitty. (going to see her this eve.) we speak of perhaps onion creek later.

M and i depart M2 and make our way back the other direction, parting ways with all of the above. hear from D (i'll refer to him as brainiac) who i texted earlier that day. he's on his way to join. M and i are over 19th street at this point. crowded. like mardi gras, but significantly less colorful...

while waiting for shuttle, run into S again. and run into H, another friend of ours, who was also with her mother. (H is one of the coolest cats i know, but we are on our way out...so we bid her adieu.) brainiac swoops in and we make our way to onion creek...but not before stopping at the rockin party at coldwell banker. (seriously. who knew.) i, in a sudden fervor for exercise, suggest we walk to onion creek. (about 12 blocks, though i don't immediately realize this.) M suggests i make no more suggestions.

at onion creek, M runs into even more people she knows. i am more focused on my pizza. mister N finally arrives for the evening. (he promised to interrupt his med school apps for one drink with us.) mr. N and brainiac hit it off. of course. (why do all my guy friends have man-crushes on brainiac? really. it's an unexplained phenomenon.)

anyways...brainiac eventually ducks out and darling mister N brings M and i back to my car. we decide to cap the night off with a birthday drink. we end up at the social (the grand reopening). we see miss N there...by design this time, not chance. despite the good company, i remember why i so intensely disliked the social in the first place. (give me a good dive any day.) after being chatted up by one too many indistinguishable, jeans-and-button-down-clad guys, we lose track of miss N. M and i decide to make our escape while we can-we'll call miss N later. funny enough, miss N had the same idea-we reconvene in the parking lot and part ways for the evening.

M and i still haven't had our birthday libation. we stop by cobain. we leave cobain. like, 2 minutes later. it's like a cleaner social, but with no more character. equally difficult for us to digest. so, the journey continues. to poison girl...an old standard.

M and i sit on the back patio. we overhear a conversation about etymology. over beers. (etymology? seriously? ...at poison girl?) i can't help myself, so i lean over and ask what this heated etymology debate was about. as it was....about the word 'clue.' apparently, the origin of the word had something to do with yarn or disease or i-don't-know-what. in any case, this exceptionally nerdy guy (i normally find nerdy guys kind of attractive, but since he was one of those self-righteous, let-me-thrill-you-with-my-vast-knowledge-of-everything-including-but-not-limited-to-world-of-warcraft kinda guys, this 'nerdy' is not meant as a compliment) passionately rattled on to the point M's eyes started glazing over. i invited it. my bad.
i finally figure that asking this guy to get his crew to sing happy birthday to M might be an effective way to shut him up, so i do. to which he replies, 'i don't know.' (what?! are you kidding me?!) he and his emo-er-than-thou were too busy lamenting the folly of the uninitiated for a little good-natured birthday wish? lame. finally, we rally a birthday cry from the patio. good enough, i suppose.

at that point, this guy in what appears to be a velvet jacket shuffles by. (let me insert here that i have deep respect and admiration for anyone who will wear a velvet jacket outdoors in houston in august...a true sacrifice for fashion.) he walks inside..almost...but turns around to tell me he likes my dress. M and i think this is sweet. velvet-jacket-guy looks vaguely familiar. M and i finally decide to leave, but not after the obligatory nod at the etymology-police for their half-assed birthday song. as i am walking by velvet-jacket-guy, i realize i know where i knew him. myspace. (isn't it strange how you can know everything about someone without ever having met them? this periodically freaks me out, but it's a small price to pay in order to exercise some exhibitionist tendencies of mine. i mean, c'mon....let's be honest with ourselves.*) in any case, this guy had a particularly unusual facial expression in his profile picture and was, thus, memorable. as i pass him, i thank him for the compliment and he introduces himself. i think it might be fun to freak him out, so i pull the whole i-know-who-you-are routine. alas, he doesn't seem freaked out. i'm slightly disappointed. M and i leave, and i take her home.

(* i need to write a separate blog about my marvel at people refusing to post info on myspace or other blogs/websites etc. with the false notion that a good stalker won't find other ways to divine crucial information about you. particularly people thrust into the public eye for whatever reason. i mean, who are we kidding here?)

at this point, i don't feel like going home. i call J, lovely bartendress extraordinaire. a good friend of hers is there at the bar. i join them and chat with said friend, R. never met her. very fun and charming. R, as it turns out, has just passed the bar, moved to houston from austin, and is starting work as a lawyer. i joke that 90% of my childhood friends are lawyers...which is actually true. she tells me she's sorry. i tell her that it's actually a wonderful thing- i will be well-represented no matter who i murder or who sues me. (actually, now that i think about it, why is that? why ARE all my childhood friends lawyers? why am i such a loser?) anyways, i mention that my friend works for fulbright. well.......guess who else will be working for fulbright. "who is your friend? oh? really?! she was my recruiter. i know her really well. you've known her since you were 10? wow." we proceed to go through the laundry list of people we know in common. and so it goes.

R asks me what i do. i tell her where i work. random friendly guy at bar with girlfriend (who must be a cool cat if he's still there at 3 AM) overhears. "you work there? oh, i work at the alley." random. then, we proceed to go through the laundry list of people he and i know in common. and so it goes...and i start to think i'm living in the twilight zone.
and i like it most days. and nights. like last.
that's all.