Tuesday, July 10, 2007

my thoughts on NYC and houston


having just returned from NYC, i must admit that i had an absolute blast. but while i was there, i spent a great deal of time meditating on the merits of the city as a whole...or more specifically, what i, personally, do or do not like about it. let me begin by giving a bit of backstory...i was born and raised in houston. sugar land to be exact, the heart of suburban life. in fact, of my friend's parents, 9 out of 10 of them actually owned suburbans. a cliche if there ever was one. (however, i would argue that sugar land is a lesser offender than some suburbs, for it was more common than not for my friends and neighbors to make frequent trips downtown for culture, shopping, adventure, etc...whereas many suburbs are isolating in their self-sufficiency.) i digress.

for as long as i could remember, i ached to get out of houston...and to leave texas altogether. as a kid, i hated everything about texas. i turned up my nose at cowboy hats and pickup trucks and country music. i even made a conscious effort (as a child, mind you) to avoid speaking with any type of texas drawl or twang. i literally did not say "ya'll" until I was 22 years old. (and hell will freeze over the day i say "fixin' to.") furthermore, my mother was from the north and always peppered my upbringing with a bit of yankee elitism. and through her acquaintances and work ties, she exposed me at a very young age to a side of houston that i think escapes even most natives. in the art scene, she became acquainted with the people responsible for the menil museum, the orange show, and a greater part of the work at the MFAH...along with visionary artists doing work that would make a large impact across the country. not mere dilettantes or neophytes, but cultured, sophisticated people with the world at their fingertips...who CHOSE houston as their home base. (lest we forget that houston's art collections are considered among the best in the world!) but i didn't appreciate any of this as an adolescent...

given my attitude, i was thrilled the first time i visited new york. i was fourteen, and in a way, i felt like i had found my niche. (again, another cliche.) i hated the tourist traps and found myself silently judging the people running around with cameras. i was a native at heart, of course. i walked the streets, doing my best to blend in...never betraying the fact that i was a texas girl. after several visits and spending a decent amount of time there, i had the act down well enough. i fit in. (i laugh about this now, as NYC is full of millions of people essentially acting as though they're not tourists.) and then, one day on the subway, in an effort to push past a crowd and find a place to stand, i clumsily elbowed a group of people. i turned around and apologized...just a small acknowledgement of the fact i could have seriously maimed someone...but not anything profuse. and the people just stared at me. coldly. and so, i just shrugged, figuring that they were simply rude. but not quite satisfied with that, i turned around and bluntly asked why they were just staring at me. (i guess it never occurred to me that they might not speak my language.) but they responded, "you're not from here, are you?" and i answered that i wasn't and asked if it was my accent or clothes that gave me away...and their response: "no, it's because if you were from here, you would have never apologized." interesting. i didn't think too much about that at the time.

somewhere along the line, decisions about college were made. i desperately wanted to run away to NYC, but for many reasons (financial ones being no small consideration), i remained here...in some ways, with a foot halfway out the door. but a few trips to NYC later, i remember walking the streets and suddenly being struck with a severe case of homesickness. initially dismissing it as depression or loneliness, i took a good look at the city before me and noticed that no one around me really looked happy. millions of people brushing past one another with barely a word spoken between them. how could one experience such a sensation of isolation standing in a square with a crowd of a thousand other people? was it my imagination? was it mere prejudice, ignorance, or inexperience? or is it a case of personal preference? i guess i will never really know. but it was at that moment that i decided i loved my home...that i loved texas and houston. that i loved the fact i could easily strike up conversations with people in line at the grocery store. that i could walk 2 blocks and see some of the greatest art in the world. that i could watch our opera with the knowledge that it is one of the best companies in the country. that i could spend time with some of the most brilliant minds our nation has to offer (NASA and the medical center). and that i don't need to feel like an outsider for being cordial, kind, and polite. today, i proudly say "ya'll"...and i even came to enjoy donning my cowboy hat and boots!

granted, i don't have the impression that all new yorkers are rude jerks. quite the contrary, i talked to plenty of natives over the last week who were very pleasant and polite. (one of the things i love most about nicky is that he will walk up to anyone and unabashedly start talking to them.) so, we chipperly embraced our (relative) tourist status and asked people where to go and what to do when my ideas and knowledge had exhausted itself...oftentimes being pointed in the best directions. most everyone was cordial...even the gangsters we asked for directions when we got lost in the bronx. sure, we took some big chances on getting mugged or taken advantage of...but the results were well worth it. and i finally found myself more amused by the other tourists than annoyed. they looked so happy and eager to take in the city...so why is it necessary or attractive to find that annoying? and then, it occurred to me: it's not that i don't like new york or new yorkers...it's that i don't like all the pretentious assholes PRETENDING to be new yorkers. those who flock to new york for their fifteen minutes who adopt an attitude and play the game to the extent that they feel they have the right to show disdain for those who don't. what a bunch of posers.

which leads me to my next point: why i doubt i will ever move to NYC. for as long as i can remember, people have told me that i need to move to NYC. perhaps this is what created my false admiration for all things new york in the first place. first, for my dance...then, my musical theatre...then, my opera...and now, my directing. "oh, if you really want to have a SERIOUS career, you HAVE to move to new york." blah, blah, blah. sure, i have no doubt that one is exposed to more opportunity in nyc. yes, the theatre scene is thriving and valued in a unique way...far more than it is here in houston. yes, you are surrounded by a creative buzz of activity and fascinating people. yes, working in nyc lends a certain degree of merit to one's work experience. yes, that can create opportunities elsewhere. i realize all this. BUT i have watched friend after friend pick up and move to nyc or LA. and i have seen friend after friend pick up and move back...with a few more credits on their resume, but no more happy or fulfilled than when they left. no doubt, they are picking up and moving these places with 3/4 of the population who does the exact same thing they do. every other young, attractive person you run into on the street in nyc is a singer, actor, dancer, playwright, director, etc. in some ways, it's as cliched as the tourist with the camera. and so, i started asking these people about their work...their work aside from their waiting job or bartending job, that is.

to one particularly attractive, svelte, and bubbly waitress:
"you're an actress, yes?"
"how'd you know?!"
"wild guess. so, what shows have you done up here?"
"on broadway?"
"sure."
"well, none...but i've been doing a lot of auditioning."
"that's great. best of luck with that. any work with any off-broadway theatres?"
"how off?"
"well, doesn't matter...i'm a huge fan of the vortex and the wooster group. but i'd love to hear about ANY of the smaller, more independent theatres..."
"well, i haven't really worked with anyone...recently...uh, yet. but i've been working with an acting coach. and taking dance classes."
"cool. there's so many great places to take class. so...how long have you been here?"
"3 years."
(silence.)

for a long, long time, i bought into this mindset. first it was financial reasons for staying in houston, then i figured it was fear keeping me here. fear of the unknown. fear of failure. and perhaps it WAS fear once upon a time...but not anymore. you see, i'm not judging these aspiring artists. NOT AT ALL. nor is it jealousy. to the contrary, i have the utmost respect for those who just pick up and go for it. i admire their courage and their stamina. and i'm sure there are incredible rewards from the exciting experiences, as well as having the chance to work where so much is brewing. indeed, one of my dearest friends has recently made the move...and he's already gotten work. and i have another on the eve of his move. BUT, on the other hand, i recognize that i'm not sure nyc is for me.

the realization came to me when i was in college that i had a different set of values than some of my peers. it occurred to me that fame really meant nothing to me. in my heart, there is no difference between my personally being at the top of my game and my having the broadway/professional credits or applause to affirm it. having battled periodic bouts with depression, i finally became certain that success by means of fame, fortune, and professional success (as defined by others) would never equal happiness for me. and i've done just enough contracting to know how i feel about being on the road directing. and granted, the very nature of the business dictates that it is necessary for an artist to be appreciated/recognized by others to get work to support his or herself. but to me, the most satisfying aspects of my journey as an artist are personal ones. and now, the only times i feel especially hungry for outside applause and recognition is when i'm not personally confident that my art was honest or well-conceived or well-executed. i need the pat on the back most when i need to compensate for something. my mentor taught to me to look inward in these instances...and i now see how right he was.

in retrospect, a great deal of these realizations came with big changes in how i view art...a shift in my perspective on aesthetics. with it, came a new appreciation for different types of art. abstraction and impressionism became more fascinating to me. but both deal with a more personal viewpoint, as opposed to a standard absolute. subjectivity is king...which leads me closer to my ultimate point: TO EACH, HIS OR HER OWN. i no longer feel like i need to make an excuse for why i am still living in houston. (in hindsight, BOO on the petty people who ever made me feel that way.) i LOVE houston. and i LOVE my friends...and i am meeting new, exciting people here at home every single day. people who exist with inspiration. who, for lack of a better expression, suck the marrow out of life. and furthermore, i have the best group of pals and partners with my theatre...people who don't live and breathe art alone, but instead, live full lives so that they have a fullness of spirit to bring to their art. whose interests range from philosophy to astrophysics to ballet, etc. we love each other; we hate each other; but we always have fun. one friday, a week or so ago, i was running off to rehearsal for our next show, and someone remarked that it sucked that i had rehearsal on a weekend...to which i replied that it didn't really matter, because i would want to hang out with my nova peeps anyways...and how lucky am i to have that! we are striving to do something HERE. for those that complain that our theatre scene in houston is not what it could be, let's work together to change it. i just recently had this conversation with an "experienced" actor/dancer/choreographer who did her time in nyc, and she just shook her head in judgement at me. i'm sure she thought i needed my head examined...but if you can forgive my honesty, she has always struck me as a bitter, small-minded person. and perhaps i am foolish, but if her experience has not filled her with joy and fulfillment, who is she (or anyone else for that matter) to judge what keeps my cup brimming? (of course, it's not my place to judge her either...it's quite possible she feels very fulfilled...with a mere propensity to be unpleasant.) to be sure, my peers (within nova and other companies) and i have a long way to go, but we're eager...and we fail and fall on our faces, but we're enthusiastic (and probably naive) and learning so much and enjoying every second. why would i leave what i have at my feet here? houston has SO much potential...it's like a field that's only been partially sown. i can understand leaving for more opportunities, but what about staying and CREATING those opportunities? sure, there is thrill in the struggle... but is it not equally exhilirating to struggle to create something new, expose new audiences, and open people's eyes to what's possible here? and what is already available in our back yards? i have many friends (my HYPA pals among them) who are committed to doing just that (developing and cultivating audiences)...which is why i will be the first one to smack you upside the head if you complain about houston in front of me OR tell me that there's nothing to do. a city is exactly what we make it. i take no issue with those who leave to seek greener pastures for themselves, but don't you dare tell me my city isn't worth the effort. remember, in the wise words of the shins: "you're not obliged to swallow anything you despise."

so, in conclusion, if you're going to be the 780th person to suggest that i move to nyc, save your breath. this girl's not budging just yet. it's not my severe claustrophobia or the fact i think nyc is filthy or even the nyc attitude-posers....nor is it that i don't realize i have something to learn and could benefit from journeying onward...it's that i enjoy all the gifts and blessings i have at my feet right now here in houston. and i haven't yet had my fill.

the end.

Friday, May 18, 2007

my joy luck club

one of the most rewarding and enjoyable directing experiences of my life...

Sunday, May 13, 2007

art on wheels

so, i attended yesterday's art car parade with some pals. thanks to michael, the arts initiative, and the cart-bar! much, much fun!




were many fantastic cars, but the one that made me the happiest was this one, the sashimi tabernacle choir car:



brilliant! simply brilliant! kudos to the team that brought us a crustaceous beethoven's 9th!
250 fish and lobsters singing and moving in unison. priceless.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

April


April...a beautiful month. Flowers blooming everywhere. How lovely.

Especially these flowers:
Ah, ligustrum. How nice to see that normally plain (and rather dull bush) explode once a year into a pleasant bouquet of tiny, white flowers...

Would be even nicer if the damn things didn't give me a headache, puffy eyes, and a scratchy throat for the entire month of April.

Sometimes, I hate spring.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

willingly and joyfully

i am agitated.

for the last few months and especially the last few weeks, i feel like i have been in a good place. i am starting to think outside the box...or i should say, my box. i think, in the last year, i have grown so much as a person, and i can't help but be proud of myself. but with that, my outlook on so many things has changed. i have thrown so many preconceived notions about myself out the window...what i want in life, who i want, how i want my life to be. i am learning what it is to be self-sufficient. i am no longer sure that i want to get married. i am no longer sure that i want children. i am no longer sure i know what i want. and i believe i am coming to peace with this. or am i?

i had a conversation tonight with a friend that was jarring. nothing that was said in this conversation came as any surprise, but what did surprise me was how i felt about it. this person is lovely, and we have been seeing a lot of each other lately. and every time i see this person i smile, each time having learned new ways in which he is special. he is a free spirit. and i like that. i like that his mind moves in a dozen different circles...that he is eager to evolve and move onto the next adventure. knowing this about him, i resolved to enjoy him while i was lucky enough to have him in my life. i saw nothing beyond today...this moment. i sought no definition. i needed no boundaries.

somehow tonight, we got on the subject of relationships and inadvertently touched on questions of loyalty and honesty. i stated that loyalty was important to me...probably the most important aside from honesty. not that i can humor myself as being completely pristine in either area...though i strive to be. in any case, his reply was that he wasn't sure he agreed with the idea of 'monogamous' as a definition. mind you, we were not speaking about ourselves, but in a theoretical sense. i asked him to explain. he stated that if it came down to the difference between being in a defined monogamous relationship and meeting someone new and having to end the relationship in order to pursue the new possibility...or being in a relationship in which you had the freedom to explore the new possibility without the confines of traditional definitions...he preferred the latter. to this, i questioned whether this was possible due to potential jealousies...to which he replied that his theory was his notion of an ideal world. i suggested that the primary reason people seek definition is due to a fear of that which can be lost. it's not that we need to define ourselves...it's that we take definition as a measure towards protecting whatever it is we enjoy or have come to need. a free relationship is fine and good until that which you love drifts into another realm, leaving you behind. leaving one's options open is wonderful until you are no longer the option the other desires. perhaps a self-actualized person could handle this....but to those of us average folks, the danger is daunting. so we rely on conventions.

with my new outlook on life, i agreed with this. while i am not sure i feel the same way, i see the value in this freedom. how much more does it mean to have all the options in the world and to choose one person? of course, this means infinitely more. or does it? is it always tenuous? on the assumption that one is not tied to one relationship, where does the exploration end? is it an active exploration? or is it the openness to pursue a possibility should something incredible fall into one's lap? is there ever a time when someone can rest easy knowing the hand of a loved one will always be within arm's reach? i see potential problems in this new model. not to suggest that those problems don't always exist...

it makes me think of marriage. what does that mean anymore? if we are speaking in ideals, a marriage should be a deal between two people to stick together through thick and thin. even in an ideal world, relationships are not perfect...you are not always in love with your lover...you don't even like your lover all the time. is this when a new possibility swoops in? perhaps...but i believe, in marriage, the answer should be 'no.' an agreement has been made to endure each other. i used to think that extending the right to marry to homosexuals was only fair...among other reasons, in order to allow them this one convention that helps enable two people to commit. i am not suggesting it is necessary...i am merely suggesting that, in marriage, it is far more difficult to split when the going gets tough. i see value in this aside from the other accepted benefits of marriage. however, this 'agreement' is being thrown around all too easily these days. what difference does it make to get married when, within a year, you could just as easily be married to someone new. in this present system, why not throw out the convention altogether? but where does one draw the line?

back to our conversation...my friend stated an instance in which his heart was broken and that the most vexing aspect of the situation was the thought that he had allowed one person to have such an affect on him. (in this case, i imagine it was a negative one.) and as he said this, i could empathize. i know what he meant...to let one person shake you from your roots. i let one person do this to me. he was by no means the only person i have ever cared about, but he was the first person to tear me down to my core. he was the first person, aside from my family, that i allowed myself to need. and i recalled something this man's mother said to me...that she would never allow herself to need someone else ever again. she said this and was in one of the more successful relationships i have ever witnessed. in retrospect, i have often thought of what she said...as part of my new world view.

so as we are talking tonight, my friend continues to describe his family member's devastation at her divorce...his own devastation after getting his heart broken...the subsequent boundary between his heart and those he has since dated. and his words are upsetting, though not due to my own lost love...or even the new one. it is due to my lost desire to need someone. the fear that i have closed myself off from my need. the fear that i will never allow someone to move me like that ever again. and it terrifies me.

i push these things to the back of my head, but a line from steve martin's 'shopgirl' lingers in my mind. 'so i can either hurt now or later.' and suddenly, my free spirit, my new outlook seems distant. 'i can either hurt now or later.' but then, isn't that always the case? isn't it always a possibility that you can hurt later?

i come home to my own bed and lay awake. another line from the movie resonates: "as ray porter watches mirabelle walk away he feels a loss. how is it possible, he thinks, to miss a woman whom he kept at a distance so that when she was gone he would not miss her. only then does he realize that wanting part of her and not all of her had hurt them both and how he cannot justify his actions except that... well... it was life." so true. we can hurt now or later.

and so, i sit here releasing my thoughts...hoping that i will be able to sleep when i am done. and then, my thoughts are with gibran. i know i have quoted him before...and i will again. these are words i hope to live by:

"When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips."

i cannot resist letting someone move me...shake me. it is only natural for another person to be able to affect each of us in such profound ways...it is a question of natural law...it is a question of gravity. may i savor every moment of my collision with another...and may i bleed willingly and joyfully.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

i am a sap

i heart slurpy movies with tom hanks. really. i can't get enough of them. while i find most romantic comedies a little sickening, sit me down in front of a saccharine hanks film any day...i will sit mesmerized and tear up, almost as if on cue, every time there is a meaningful look between mr. tom and meg ryan or elizabeth perkins...i might even be able to recite the dialogue.

encore must be doing a feature, because as soon as 'big' ended, 'sleepless in seattle started.' and so far, i have only watched 30 minutes of either and have gotten misty about 5 times. what is wrong with me?!


just when i think i've gotten cynical and jaded, i find myself crying about meg ryan crying about 'an affair to remember.'
and i quote:

Annie Reed: Now that was when people KNEW how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance... nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was...
Becky: A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.

exactly. i think i need a drink.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

love you, precious...

so i have known this guy for years. i encountered him when i was about 7 years old...or at least, that is my first memory of him. he was an older man...not from texas, but somewhere up north. he had this soothing, sonorous voice...and just hearing it made me think of campfires, plush leather chairs, and hot apple cider...or warm, worn quilts and the type of people who are always willing to drop everything for a good cup of coffee.

he was really a fun sort of fellow...always quick with a story...always something witty, but in an understated way. he would talk to my mother and i sometimes for an hour at a time. he mostly talked to us when we were in the car...and oftentimes, he would accompany us and share his stories on the way to my piano lessons. he would make my mom and i laugh out loud. more accurately, he would have us both in total hysterics...but he was the sort of fellow who would crack a joke, but not a smile. he would sing songs, but they were frequently silly...little diddies that either didn't make any sense, or were about things like biscuits and ketchup, or were the type of profound that hit you in the face when you weren't looking. in fact, there were so many things he said that were straight-forward and simple, but would wash back over you like a tide and leave you with a warm fuzzy in your tummy.

i loved this man. he was a part of my childhood. so many good times were had by the sound of his introspective purr. self-effacing humor of the best kind...the kind that makes you come to appreciate and even love our foibles...our folly. this man used to speak a great deal on the differences between the north and the south....how he was a sweetheart, a darlin', or precious once he crossed the mason-dixon line. his marvel at unabashed rustics was charming.a love of this man was something my mother and i shared as i was growing up. she still reminisces about some of the more clever stories he would tell. (i, too, giggle a little when i think of the frustrated chicken-author whose compositional toils involved a typewriter and the hunt-and-peck method.)

in any case, i met this man for the first time tonight. i almost had to remind myself that i had never met him before. it was like the first time i met my uncle, my mother's brother. i was eleven. and when i first met him, he immediately hugged me, patted my backside, and laughed...it was like i had known him all along.

and tonight, too, i felt like i had known this man all along.because i have. in terms of warm feelings, conjured recollections, inspired reflection, and the smiles put on my face, i have known this guy fairly well. and the beautiful thing is that i know i am not the only one who feels blessed to have had this man in their life...as part of their family. tonight, i watched this man sign over 150 books. he stood (not sat, though a chair and table were provided for him) and greeted a mass of people with all the warmth and cheer of a next-door neighbor. he visited with each and every one until eleven in the evening, knowing full well that he would have to rise in only a few hours at 3:30 to catch his early-morning flight. a picture? no problem. what's your name? what do you do? jenni rebecca? were you named after the song?

i was struck and amazed by how incredible this one human being must be to have such a following. in the almost 2 1/2 hours that he stood signing books and taking pictures, not one soul stepped out of line. it didn't matter that he seemed to be taking a few minutes for each of his 150 fans. people were patient. to be anything else would be a rejection of his outlook on life. he was owed much more respect than that.

it was silly. as i approached this familiar stranger, this uncle from the radio waves, my heart started beating. why was i so nervous? why was i almost about to cry? why? well, because it meant something to me...rather, it meant so much to me. i wanted the moment to last. i wanted to remember the instant in which i shook the hand of this man who i had known for so long, but had never seen. i was making up for 20 years in the spanse of a few minutes. and when he finally addressed me, i turned into the shy 7 year-old who first heard his show on the radio so long ago.to jenni rebecca and karen-love you, precious.garrison keillor

Monday, January 29, 2007

frida, taymor, and goldenthal...

so, i am sitting here at my house...wine glass in hand (with a decent cabernet), script in hand (working on a cutting for an upcoming project), listening to elliot goldenthal's soundtrack for frida as i work...an unbelievable movie. a movie directed by one of my heroes...julie taymor...who i fully intend to be when i grow up.which reminds me of the movie...i grew up hearing all about friday kahlo from my mother, who worked with several people associated with the menil and other private collectors around town. every time i would hear the artist's name spoken, it was almost with a hint of jest...the self-deprecating artist whose self-portraits defied our notions of beauty, of self, of identity... i remember, when my mother brought home a book on kahlo's work, looking through it with a degree of horror. granted, i was only a child, but i found the images haunting, disturbing...


i had little reason to re-examine her work, so for years, my conception of frida kahlo was a negative one. but how thrilling was it to see taymor's movie and her brilliant imagery...to finally have some insight into kahlo's state of mind when she painted those pieces, the pieces ingrained in my mind as a child as the stuff of horror films...




and how funny that my absolute favorite place in mexico city was the area in which she lived... coyoacan.



thank you, frida kahlo, for being the visionary you were...and julie taymor, for being the woman capable of illuminating her...i no longer look at these works with disgust, but rather, appreciation for their honesty and rawness.

Friday, January 19, 2007

a challenge to my friends...

i don't know why i've been so freakin' happy lately, but it's just as if everything is starting to make sense. for today anyways. and one thing i think is true: positive energy begets positive energy. anyways, your manic friend is hopin' this feelin' lasts...

but i thought i would share something that happened to me today...so, i am walking down the street during lunch and i see this guy in a business suit. he's young and polished... glasses and shined shoes and library books in hand. well, i look at him, just as i would look at anyone passing me on the street, and he flashes a grin a mile wide at me . it wasn't a flirty smile, but rather, a happy-to-be-alive sort of grin...but it was so big and sincere that it almost stopped me in my tracks. so, naturally, it put a big smile on my face. and the next person i saw on the street saw my wide grin and smiled back at me...which made me smile even more. and as i was walking through the tunnels, i simply could not wipe the goofy look off my face...and each person i would pass would exchange a smile with me. this is NOT NORMAL. the downtown tunnels, like subway stations, are a place where one can disappear in a sea of expressionless faces. but on this day, person after person would smile back at me... and as i am thinking about this, the next person i passed said 'hello, how are you doing today?' and it wasn't at all a typical, half-assed greeting...it was a genuine question. and of course, i responded 'fine! and you?' but the thing is, she wasn't the only one...i counted at least 10 people who said hello to me in the tunnels. complete strangers. again, not normal... but wonderful! shows me one thing: how much effort does it really take to spread a little happiness around? not much. so, i challenge you all (not to suggest that you might not be inclined to do this already) to smile at the next 10 strangers you encounter...to say hello to them all. you never know who's day might be turned around by that tiny gesture.... it's not a big deal. and this story may seem insignificant to you. and perhaps it is. but it made my day.

and my lunch destination? a little cafe called la dolce vita. how appropriate. :)

divine humor

ah....the byzantine chapel. the one at the menil. if you haven't seen it, you must make plans to do so. immediately. simply beautiful. the frescos are lovely, but the place itself is magical. in my opinion, much more so than the rothko. i walked in and the only light in the room was that coming from the two candles flanking the pews....excepting that on the frescos themselves. the rest of the altar was simply glowing...an other-wordly translucent white halo against the stark black of the walls. i walked in and sat in the back pew and just stared. and stared. i felt almost paralyzed. i couldn't take my eyes from the fresco just above the altar. from where i was sitting, you only saw the image of an angel...an angel staring back at me with a face of sublime peace and gentleness. did i feel like the angel was looking at me? yes, i did. which is why i sat there silently for what must have been a half-hour. and in that time i felt so calm and satisfied.

how can one deny the existence of the divine? it was in the air...in the birds singing outside the chapel...the water dripping off the leaves in the trees outside...the glow of the altar...even in the squeak of the shoes worn by the people walking by my pew. i don't know exactly what that means...but i feel it is true with every inch of my being. i sat there and stared and couldn't help but cry...just a little. but not tears of sadness, but those of joy. of appreciation. i thought of my family...of my friends...of my life...and i just felt so very grateful and blessed. and content. with all of life's trials, could it be any sweeter than this?

and then, someone's cell phone rang. one of those generic nokia rings. and the woman, embarassed, rushed outside...rifling through her purse to grab and silence the offending device. and it put the biggest smile on my face. and instead of being annoyed, it made me laugh. here i am, having this intense moment when someone's cell phone rings....breaking the mood. but not really. isn't that what life is? isn't it the little surprises and problematic occurrences that make it that much more fun? i think so.

after watching the woman rush out of the room, i looked back at the angel looming above in the fresco....and i couldn't help but notice a hint of a smirk on her face.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Movie Music

today's random thoughts:kevin costner is a hack. wait...not a hack-overwrought. the man needs to cease and desist with the sentimentality. it was acceptable in 'dances with wolves,' but it should have ended there. excepting that one, his best acting occurs in 'the big chill.' ........bet you didn't know he was in the big chill, right? yep. he is. he plays the dead friend that brings everyone together. that's right...a corpse. no joke. but seriously, costner picked up where michael landon left off...the man is the kenny G of movies. so, cut a christmas album and call it a day.

actually, i'm exaggerating. the man has made a few decent movies...all involving baseball. well...actually...i can only personally vouch for one being good: 'bull durham.' but i credit susan sarandon and tim robbins for making that movie what it was. (we'll forgive them for their political activism. just think of it: it all began with a baseball movie.)

so, back to costner...so i happen to catch a minute or two of 'message in a bottle' this morning. yikes. even paul newman and robin wright penn couldn't save that one. don't get me wrong, i remember crying the first time i saw it...but that is not saying much. i cried in 'honey, i shrunk the kids' when the ant died. seriously. i'm ridiculous. so i'm watching this movie, and all i can think of is the score. it's gorgeous. and it sounds familiar. sounds like something else i've heard...then it comes to me: 'city of angels.' turns out gabriel yared wrote both scores.

now, sidenote here: i have one useless skill. i am not afraid to boast about this: i have an uncanny ability to identify the composers of movie scores. i am almost never wrong. give me 5 minutes of a movie with an original score written by somebody whose music i've heard before...and i will be able to guess it. i might not even know who wrote it, but i will be able to tell you what other movies were written by that composer. seriously. try challenging me sometime. in fact, this can annoy people when they watch movies with me. because i usually obsess about the score until i figure it out. i realized it was a strange (and pointless) gift when i was sitting in the movie theatre watching 'the green mile.' and i think...wow, this sounds like 'up close and personal' and 'shawshank redemption' and 'american beauty' and 'corrina corrina.' i had never thought to look it up before. and as it turns out, all written by thomas newman. god love him. what a talent. now, mind you, thomas newman isn't difficult to identify....he's like james horner. very characteristic sound. except horner is more generic. no offense...some of his work is excellent. my favorites include: an american tale (yes, i love the score), swing kids, legends of the fall, and willow. now, i only own some of these scores...the rest just stick with me. like willow, for instance. i could hum the whole main title...and i haven't heard it in...well...probably 15 years.that's the thing with me and music….i almost never forget something once i hear it. this doesn't necessarily apply to lyrics or the like, nor does it mean that i could sit down and play it immediately…but melodic lines. chord progressions. characteristic licks or rhythmic patterns…like, for instance, james horner's horn rips. or thomas newman's lonely piano solos…he's always got that 3 and 5 chord motive. ....wanna know what i'm talking about? in a cool mix? check out the album 'ultra chilled' (one of those electronica compilation CDs) disc 2, track 2 (titled 'american dream'). it is snippets of thomas newman's score from 'american beauty' mixed by jakatta. very nice.

anyways...this musical score thing is something i inherited from my father. my dad has an amazing ear. astounding, actually. so, in middle school, i go to a jam session with some of my music pals. i'm on the keyboard. we have some brass involved....we are trying to put together some jazz stuff...inspired by a sting b-side 'i miss you, kate' from his 'ten summoner's tales' days. (in fact, the bridge of 'i miss you, kate' also appears in the middle section of 'st. augustine in hell.') anyways, so i have a cassette of 'i miss you, kate' and throw it on in the car...he listens to it and immediately says "that's 'spartacus.' " and mom and i are looking at each other like he's crazy. but he insists. and starts humming along to the song...a song i'm sure he has never heard before. so, we go home and he rummages through the shelf of old LPs...most of which hadn't been touched by anyone but me for the last 15 years. and it takes him all of perhaps 5 minutes to find the section in the love theme of 'spartacus' that utilizes the exact same progression as 'i miss you, kate.' crazy. sting totally ripped off alex north. totally.

how often do we rip people off without even knowing it? and how often are we ripping ourselves off? i mean, of course that is why i can recognize film composers...they aren't always very original. reinvention can be highly uncommecial. take, for instance, gabriel yared. so, i am curious, and i read up on him and his career. he apparently wrote the first score to 'troy'...and it was rejected approximately a month out from the world-wide release of the movie. a month out! so, good ol' horner churned out a new score in about a month. a score with...yeah, you guessed it, OODLES of his characteristic horn rips. go figure. the thing is, yared's score was supposed to be his best work EVER, but it was accused of being too old-fashioned. fancy that. a score to a movie about the greeks being too old-fashioned. and i am dying to hear it. but the thing is, he doesn't own it. and until the studio decides to release it, it will never be heard. criminal. just criminal.

speaking of ripping off...i just watched 'annie hall' for the first time with henning the other day. the last silly movie in which i cried. no surprise. and man...i had NO IDEA how much nora ephron ripped off woody allen! watch 'annie hall'...then watch 'when harry met sally.' basically, 'when harry met sally' is 'annie hall' with a happier ending. who knew.