Lunch Break

In honor of our page-to-stage reading of LUNCH (the musical) on Sunday at 6pm on the millennium Stage at the Kennedy Center, I bring you school lunch news from around the country.

Starting with local haunts:



FAIRFAX SCHOOLS SAY NO MORE FRY GUYS!
FAIRFAX COUNTY, Va. - Nothing but French fries for lunch?
The food services director for Fairfax County Public Schools says that was the case with some students last year. But it won't be an option when classes resume next week.

Penny McConnell says the school system has dropped the a la carte French fry option for middle school students in order to force them to make healthier eating decisions.

The school system has rolled out a new and improved lunch menu, complete with items that adhere to the new food guidelines set by the Food and Drug Administration in January.

The menu features items such as zucchini and veggie burgers.

And in Texas...



SCHOOL LUNCHES - BETTER THAN INTERNET PORN?
Texas Schools Launch 'Virtual Cafeteria'

By JAMIE STENGLE
The Associated Press
Wednesday, August 24, 2005; 8:35 PM

DALLAS -- Cathy the cafeteria worker stands smiling behind a lunch counter filled with everything from salads to desserts. She may just be an image on the Internet, but she's not shy about telling you what she thinks about your food choices. A salad gets instant accolades: "Congratulations! That's a food with both vitamin A and vitamin C."

Click your mouse on a cookie though and a red circle lights up, warning it's a "Whoa" food _ one that should be eaten less often than a "Go" or "Slow" food.

A suburban Dallas school district launched the "Virtual Cafeteria" site to show what's being served each day at each school. It can tally nutritional information for items on a lunch tray, including calories, fat grams, carbs, protein, vitamin A and vitamin C.

For instance, a meal of a chef salad, a slice of pizza, a cookie and milk will cost $4.75 and runs about 746 calories.

"We are really making a valiant effort to put nutritional information in the hands of our customers, be it parents, a grandmother, a teacher or the student themselves," said Rachelle Fowler, student nutrition director for the Carrollton-Farmers Branch school district.

About 30 percent of U.S. schoolchildren are believed to be overweight and about 35 percent of Texas children are overweight, something that inspired state Agriculture Commissioner Susan Combs to implement stricter nutrition guidelines last year for schools in the state.

Schools are adopting those guidelines and adding their own initiatives, such as the efforts at Carrollton-Farmers Branch and fruit and vegetable taste-testings for kindergartners at the Magnolia district in southeast Texas.

"We've had fantastic response from school districts across the state," said Beverly Boyd, spokeswoman for the Texas Department of Agriculture. "We've seen so many innovative and creative ideas and physical activities."

Fowler said Carrollton-Farmers Branch officials expect the Web site to be used not only by students, but by teachers as a classroom tool.

"Our parents at home can sit down with their children and help them make good, sound nutrition choices," she said.

Since school just started, many students haven't learned about the Web site yet, school officials said. Fowler's department will promote it on in-school television spots and has given staff demonstrations.

Parent Marie Goldis learned about the Web site during a "Meet the Teacher Night" at her daughter's elementary school and the next day explored the site.

"I think it's going to help the kids if they actually get in there and use it," said Goldis, who plans to help her children, a kindergartner and a 7th-grader, plan meals.

She said that she hopes learning the details like how much sugar or carbohydrates are in a product might help her children make better choices.

"(My son) thought it was neat to be able to see the contents and also know ahead of time what's going to be on the menu," Goldis said.

When I was in high school, ummm, several years ago, school lunches still cost something in the neighborhood of $2.00. That one they describe in Texas (which, admittedly, sounds like about three lunches in one) cost $4.75! Cripey!

By highschool, however, my adolescent angst had set in and the actual hot lunch was much too "fatty" and uncool to consume. I think I went a year eating a nutty buddy bar every day for lunch. The next year I went to the salad bar every day, the next was big into hot pretzels, and finally - senior year - I brought a Dannon yogurt every day. Just a Dannon yogurt. There is even a picture of me eating a Dannon yogurt in our Senior yearbook.

Because at sixteen, it was super cool to be hungry and light-headed.

And by cool, I mean stupid.

Niblets

First - quick - check this out. I don't know whether to coo or get a little bit nauseas. Yes, it's cute, no denying that, but thinking about the person who decided to commit hours to this venture scares me a little.

Them things sure are sweet though.

The show marches on, the reading is twenty minutes too long and currently going through some massive snipping, life otherwise - eh - can't complain.

One of my actors is getting married next weekend. He and his fiance (also an actor) gathered people at a neighborhood bar following their respective "bachelor/ette" parties on Saturday night. The bride-to-be was decked out in a tiara/veil and a jagermeister wife-beater that had been bestowed upon her at the last stop on their mini-bar-crawl. They were both beaming and shiny and happy - it was nice to see. I like them both very much and completely dig the way they are going about the wedding thing (simple, unpretentious, focus on the food, drink, friends, and love).

My cousin is back in town (after several weeks in Mozambique) and it was good to catch up with her last night. She had a date this weekend with a guy who was, "very, very nice..." but, told her that his ultimate career aspiration was to become a motivational speaker.

Okay, so, would anyone out there hear that and think that was a good thing? Like, wow - I have always wanted to date a motivational speaker! Someone who speaks in catch phrases and platitudes?! Man, that is so hot!

Thus far, it's not looking to be a love connection.

P.S. Looking for images for this post, I came up with the one above of the "Bachelorette Party Kit". Am I the only one who finds the ideas that these kind of Spencer Gifts package deals promote as rather offensive? As if - because someone is still technically a "bachelorette" she would want to go have a last hurrah picking up men at bars before tying herself down for good? Shouldn't a couple have gotten past the point of wanting to "party like a single girl (guy)" well before they decided to spend the rest of their lives together?

Blame it on the Blue Moon

I have a terrible headache.

Most likely the result of drinking too may Blue Moons on an empty stomach last night. Nine years of (legal) consumption and you’d think I would have figured that one out. I did the same thing at this year’s Helen Hayes awards (prom for the theater crowd here in DC) but that I blame on the fact that their event planners decided that serving hot dogs and burgers at a formal event would be a nifty idea.

Nifty indeed.

When I get this kind of tipsy - I don’t do anything crazy-stupid, but I do engage in intense conversations with people that I don’t really know well enough to be having those conversations with. At HH I ended up babbling on about my family, politics and religion to an arts denizen with a lot of money and even more connections. She is a friend of a friend, and it occurred to me the next day that I should maybe do some damage control. I apologized to the friend, and he told me she’d thought I was “charming”.

Charming? You wanna see charming?

Last night I went down that path with a colleague I am working with for the first time. We started talking about the different social circles in this town, and how people may exist in one but migrate through others. The gathering I was doing the drinking (and not eating) at was not thrown by people not in my most immediate social circle, and attending this kind of thing still stirs up completely high school generated insecurities of “Will I have anyone to talk to at this party? Will I look stupid? Will there be people who don’t like me there?”

I did okay, last night, I think.

So the conversation wound around to how you can sort of know people here – by word of mouth or mutual acquaintances – without really knowing them. And then how it’s weird to actually meet them for the first time, even though you kind of felt like you knew them already.

And my conversation mate says: “Yeah – like it was cool to finally get to know you myself and see whether some of the things I’d heard over the years were actually true or not”.

Umm, okay. Thanks.

And yeah – that thing about the third nipple? Totally not true.

Pause. Breathe. Think. Speak.

It occurred to me today that when I start working on a show, I become a pretty boring person. I kind of leave my life, and fixate on this one thing, this script, this play, this production, to the point that nothing else can really capture me.

It doesn't help that I am having to give time to a day job as well. Perhaps if I were only working on this show I would be able to leave the rehearsal room and return to reality. As it is, I feel like I cannot possibly be thinking about the play, working on the play, solving the puzzles of the play, researching elements of the play as much as I *should* be.

As if a certain amount of work proffers a guarantee that the play will work.

Not necessarily. Especially not with a new play. The variables are endless. It is kind of terrifying. No wonder theater people like the drink.

Which is why last weekend at the beach was a godsend. I know I never went into detail about that, but it was a marvelous day and a half away. I indulged in great food, had some wonderful conversations with my dear friends, slept hard and long, played with kittens, dipped my toes in the sea, drank good sake, rode a scary roller coaster, and engaged in the most delightful episodes of people watching.

The salt air cleared my head and lungs before heading back into the trenches.

All guts, little glory, we do what we must and we try to do it well.

On other wavelengths -- I have discovered (thanks to a friend) Rufus Wainwright, and I have furthermore decided that I want FOOLISH LOVE to be performed at my wedding, my funeral, and perhaps at points in between. Not that these events will happen (soon or ever) but the song makes me ache and smile. Simultaneously. I love that. I missed him in concert last month. That's a shame.

What other songs do that for me?

Golden Slumbers (the Beatles original, but especially the Ben Folds cover)
Minor Incident (Badly Drawn Boy)
Spring Street (Dar Williams)
The Professor (Damien Rice)
Dangling Conversation (Simon and Garfunkle)
Beautiful Friend (Sebadoh)
Memory Lane (Elliot Smith)
Because (the Beatles, and the Elliot Smith cover)
Mortal City (Dar Williams)
Goodbye (Patty Griffin)
Tiny Vessels (Death Cab for Cutie)
Old Mistake (Susan Werner)

What would we do without music?

On that note (stupid, it's 12:30 am in the morning pun intended) some great concerts are coming through town. Dar Williams. Death Cab for Cutie. Sufan Stevens. Liz Phair. My Morning Jacket. Anyone wanna go?

Blur

I surrender. I can't keep it together this week. I started rehearsals for an actual production, and am in planning hell for the reading next weekend.

I am still alive (really mom, I am!) and will try to get caught up on everything... soon.

Really.

Sloppy Joes Please

The link in the title (for some reason when I blog on my lap top I can't put links in the actual post... because I don't remember the HTML codes, yeah, I know) leads to an article in the Post that features the page-to-stage reading I am working on at the Kennedy Center (scroll down to the middle of the page.)

We have been developing the piece since last January when it was birthed as a fifteen minute musical. It now runs about 90 minutes. For the Kennedy Center it can only run 60 minutes. Let the snipping begin.

But it is great fun. Our cast is fabulous. See it if you can.

Eeking Out the Last Days of Summer Just Under the Wire

So much to catch up on from the weekend (in which I'll include Thursday night, because Thursday really should be part of the weekend.)

Highlights included:

1. Gogol Bordello concert at the Black Cat (or: Gypsy Rocker Punk! All the cool kids are doing it!) (Link in title)

2. Drive Friday night to Bethany Beach, Maryland (or: is it just me, or do parts of Eastern Maryland look like something from Deliverance?)

3. Saturday in Bethany Beach and Ocean City (or: How can I relax when there are so many people around?)

4. Leisurely lunches with my dear friends B and W, in W's amazing Bethany Beach home, food courtesy of the lovely and talented W, conversation courtesy of the charming and engaging B and W, and entertainment provided by B and W's four kittens (or: I know I said I was coming to visit just for the weekend, but would you all mind horribly if I stayed for the next month?)

5. An evening in Ocean City, Maryland. Woo. Hoo. (or: If you've been there, no subtitle is necessary. Suffice to say, the tattoo and mullet count was high, there was every varietal of fried dough creation to be had, souvenir tshirt shopping made my IQ drop several points, and someone needs to put a bounty on seagulls around here.)

6. Riding the rides (or: Is this bar really locked? Don't people fall out of roller coasters at places like this? I wouldn't trust the guy running this thing to deliver my pizza let alone turn me upside down so why... ahhh... ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!)

7. Dipping toes in the water (or: too cold, but the lifeguards are darn cute. Biologically, I could probably be their mother.)

More to come when time allows...

Photogenical

It's official. I live in Washington, DC.

Yeah, so, I have actually lived in Washington, DC since the August of 2001. But it wasn't until this morning, August 18, 2005 -- four full year later -- that I got around to changing over to a DC license.

The explanation for this is a complicated mix of conscious and subconscious forces.

The conscious would be obvious to anyone who knows me well. I can procrastinate like a motha-fuc*er. Really -- I amaze myself at how long I can put something off that really ISN'T THAT HARD (assemble the paperwork, take the metro to Judiciary Square, pull a number, fill out a form, get a new license). But just the idea of going into any DC government building makes me tense inside, because they are really ugly buildings and filled with lots of people and really bureaucratic looking, and those are not things that appeal to me.

The subconscious is that I have always been aware that getting a DC license would really and truly mean that I lived in DC. Somehow four different apartments, umpteen different places of employment, a healthy retinue of DC friends and colleagues - none of these things were as official as a new license. Keeping the old one was a way of holding on to the past (something else that anyone who knows me well knows that I am apt to do) and of holding on to New York City.

But, with fifteen days left to renew without having to take a written test (ah, ha. Yeah.) I finally got myself to the DMV.

And it really wasn't that bad. The line was long, sure, but moved pretty quickly. I made it up to the counter and handed over my two items to prove that my social security number really is mine (my actual social security card vanished years ago -- again, not a hard thing to replace, but again, requires entering government buildings...) as well as a bill for proof of address and the passport I've been carrying around for the last two months as my ID so that I can get served in bars and restaurants (which would only be necessary here in DC, where -- during intern season -- they really do proof everyone who looks like they may be under forty), took a vision test in the little viewer thing (which I am pretty positive I flubbed, but the semi-comatose DMV employee simply blinked a few times like "Hmmm, what she said is definitely not what I see..." and then said "I guess that's okay"). I then went to get my picture taken.

This was the one thing I was looking forward to.

My last license picture was the worst image of me that has ever been captured on film on this planet in this lifetime. It now officially no longer exists. They shredded it. I smiled.

I am not sure why the picture was so awful. I had gotten up early (and actually beat the lines that time) but was happy to be getting the license. It was an under the wire new license then too -- needed because I was flying out the next weekend to Utah to visit my dear friend BC. I had just turned twenty-five and was renting a car for the first time out there to drive from Las Vegas to Utah to San Francisco. I was feeling the Western frontier vibe, and was thrilled to be visiting BC.

I was twenty-five! I was a single girl! I was going to places filled with mormans and gay men!

Ironically, what finally got my butt in gear to get the license this time around is a trip I've planned to visit BC at the beach in Delaware this weekend. But more on that later. I guess the bottom line is, without BC, I would never renew my driver's licenses.

But my happiness at all those good things did not translate to the picture. That early AM in midtown NYC in August 2000 caught me looking surly, sallow and really short (I think they aimed the camera too low) so if nothing else -- this morning was a welcome opportunity to GET A NEW PICTURE.

Mission accomplished. Today's photo also strikes me as a bit odd -- I didn't think about what I was wearing so I happen to have on a pretty low-cut boatneck top. There are no embarrassing cleavage issues, but the picture does reveal a startling amount of sternum. In fact, because of where the bottom of the photo cuts off, it looks like I could possibly have sternum for miles.

That should be the name of a band. Sternum for Miles.

I am also glowing with a weird orange sheen. Like I had been eating a lot of carrots. Which isn't the case.

Still, it's an improvement. And I guess I can deal with it for the next five years.

And come 2010, I'll be really prepared. No boatnecks. No carrots. Sleep the night before. Maybe even - lip gloss.

Fringe-alicious

The fringe festival is up and running in NY. It is amazing that they manage to pull off what they do up there (although not without some major things sacrificed I hear -- namely any level of organization and sanity for the participants).

It is even more amazing that they manage to review nearly all the pieces by the month's end.

NYtheatre.com has a start. The two shows that I have good friends involved with "The Banger's Flopera" and "The Salacious Uncle Baldrick" both got pretty good notices. The first is a rock-opera update of Threepenny Opera (or first - The Beggar's Opera) the second is a send-up of a Moliere comedy. NY-ers, if you are looking for something to do, check them out. I wish I could see them myself.

Washington will have its inaugural fringe festival next summer. The plans are in the works, and I think the theater community is pretty jazzed about it. I know I am. Now it is just a matter of reaching audiences that we don't typically reach. I know there are many young people in DC. I know they are always looking for something entertaining to do. So how do we get them to the fringe? Or to the theater, in general? That seems to be the million dollar question, also currently under debate over at Theaterboy.

Fringe festivals can be a blast. My best experience was attending the one in Philadelphia two years ago. I only had the chance to see two shows, but both were top notch. And Old Town Philly is pretty irresistible. Hundreds of patrons were milling around, looking for their respective theaters, talking with total strangers about what they had just seen -- almost surreal in its generation of creative energy. Go if you can.

And for those out on the Western frontier -- Boulder, Colorado is hosting its first fringe this year. It looks pretty well put together. I would try to make a trip out myself if I wasn't in the midst of rehearsals right now. The playwright I am working with is performing a one-man show at the festival, and got a great feature story in the Denver Post about it. He did not write this one, but seems pretty enamored by the material. It sounds timely, and worth seeing.

Mid-Week Hump

I'm feeling a bit disengaged today. Like I am watching the world from a few steps outside of it, and am not having actual authentic reactions to anything I see. Just an occasional, "hmmmmh" or "uh-huh."

That's rare for me. Usually if I feel anything about something I feel it very strongly. My issues in life have always been about having emotions that were too big, never too small. Sometimes emotions that I couldn't handle. But today I feel like an observer.

Wonder what that's about.

The good news is that we have finally jumped knee deep into my next project. Things are funky for rehearsals to begin with because one of our actors is in another show that opens this weekend. It is not ideal to start rehearsals when missing one of only three actors. But we do what we must, and I had a great session with the other two actors last night.

The technical elements of this show scare me a bit. Projections, film sequences, stylized lighting, and numerous sound cues -- these things can be the stuff that nightmares are made of -- or "dreams", for that matter, if well executed. But it takes some of the control out of my hands. Which does make me nervous. Have I mentioned my control issues?

What Next?

I generally avoid posting on anything blatantly political because I know that there are many people out there who are much better informed then I am.

It is interesting (to me at least) though, that the weekend I finally break ground on my next production (with a much awaited first read and production meeting on Saturday) on which I am working with two semi-Israelis, history is being made with the Gaza pullout. One is actually from Israel, the other has spent a good deal of time there and has family in Jerusalem.

I support the disengagement. I really hope it is what I wish it to be -- a leap of faith on the part of Israel -- because I think it is a leap of faith that is necessary to take a first step, really, in any direction. Though the whole thing seems awfully out of character for Sharon. Unless he is just getting wiser and less reactionary in his twilight years. Let's hope so.

Indeed though, the question of "what next?" is burning in everyone's minds -- supporters and protestors alike. No one likes the idea of people being uprooted from their homes. But they had to know something like this might someday be inevitable. My friend D - the one with family in Jerusalem - said what many of us are thinking. Most of those settlers came to Israel from the east coast of the United States just twenty-odd years ago, anyhow. They are not descendents of the first five aliyahs by a long shot. But they seem to boast enough piety for the nation.

As in any religion, extremists trouble me.

Check out these two pieces from the Economist. This one appeared at another site because I can't connect directly to the magazine's site, and poses that very question - "What next?" and the one here provides a pretty clear and concise telling of the issues at hand.

Following Your Bliss

A guy I went to grade school with left his job and has been on the road for over a year interviewing people about their life paths. You can read about it here.

More Momma Love

Interestingly, after waxing sentimental about my muthah yesterday, I followed a string of comments about a fellow blogger's mom on her site.

She warned her daughter that it looked like she was gaining weight. Rather that she was "getting fat".

Wha the fuuuuu....?

Momma doesn't do those things to me. She reminds me about the nineteen hours of labor she endured to bring me into the world (see below) but come on - after nineteen hours she deserves that opportunity.

Do other mothers remind their daughters to watch their weight? Their 20-30-year-old daughters? Doesn't that seem a bit... Inappropriate? Unnecessary? Controlling? Obnoxious? Misguided? Retro?

Wrong?

Thursday Night at the AFI

I saw Stranger than Paradise last night, one of the offerings of the AFI's Jim Jarmusch restrospective. I'd tried to watch several of the early Jarmusch films back in college, and I don't think I made it through this one.

It's cool to have the opportunity to see these on the big screen.

Jarmusch is certainly an aquired taste. I admire the risks he takes with pace.

He.




Takes.



With.



Pace.

Fortunately, I was in the mood for it last night. The crowd was an interesting mix. A middle aged couple to my left - very Silver Spring - he with a beer, she with a glass of white wine. They were very vocal during previews but settled down as soon as the movie started. The two middle aged women friends to my right, however, got revved up as soon as the movie began. One had an extremely distinct, resonant laugh (read: cackle) that she made no attempt to surpress. Which is fine. What was interesting was that the formerly animated couple to my left suddenly got very put off by the increasingly vocal couple to my right and kept staring at them to prove their point.

Somehow it was fitting, for a Jim Jarmusch film.

Mommas Everywhere

My mother almost never reads my blog. Or she does occasionally, but usually she forgets it's there.

So today, when I am feeling meloncholic and frustrated and overly-confessional, she reads my blog.

No worries. All is well, Mom.

She wrote me a lovely email.

So, in tribute to moms everywhere, check out DC's recent most watched and adored momma.

Small Thoughts

It is still hot as anything here in the nation's capitol. Rock on with your bad self, heatwave.

* Many cute babies out and about on the Hill this morning. Par normal, I smiled inanely at all of them. They smiled back thinking "Look at silly adult woman giving in to her ovarian impulses and making funny faces at me! She thinks all babies like funny faces! I like laughing at the crazy single woman who makes funny faces at me but really has no idea what having and raising a child actually requires! Funny, silly, naive adult smiley woman!"

* Am addicted to this Switch stuff. It's way too expensive and has a lot of sugar (natural sugar, but sugar no less) so I shouldn't be consuming it with such regularity. But what an idea! Carbonated juice - real juice - 100% juice! And the design is snazzy too, and perfectly marketed for my demographic. They had me at hello.

* Saw Murderball this week. Definitely worth seeing. It sort of sneaks up on you and moves you in the moments when you are not expecting to be moved.

* Also saw 21 grams on DVD. Ehhhh. For the most part nice performances, but I get a little tired of watching Benicio Del Toro look tired and weathered and Naomi Watts show that she can be really, really emotionally engaged. Really she can.

* Had a good meeting with the scenic designer for my next project last night. He is smart and knows how to read a script. I still have no idea what exactly we are going for design-wise, but I guess that is part of the fun of the journey. Right?

* This may be a slightly bigger thought. I realized this morning, that if I wasn't me, I wouldn't recommend dating me. Like, if I had a guy friend who was looking to be set up, I probably wouldn't set them up with me. It's kind of a shitty thing to realize. Too many caveats.

Enough said - I regret posting this anyhow, but will leave it at that without deleting the entire post.

Butterstick Continues his Fifteen Minutes of Fame (and then some)

Yankee Fans -- Not the brightest candles

In a New York Minute

I spent the weekend (and by weekend, I mean the 30 hours between Saturday mid-day and Sunday early evening) in New York. It was a very New York getaway, in that I tried to cram too many things and made an effort to see far too many people in that span of time.

I left at the crack of dawn for the Greyhound on Saturday. The bus was crowded, but the trip there was pretty uneventful, and I am blessed with the ability to sleep anywhere, under any conditions, in any position, so I was out for the duration. I awoke as we were passing through the Lincoln Tunnel with my eyeballs feeling as dry as two hard marbles, but as soon as my contacts moistened up a bit, the world came back into focus.

New York is hot. I forget that New York gets really hot too. Not quite DC humid, but it smells worse than DC. There are fewer trees, I think, to clean the air -- in Manhattan at least -- and so it smells. (Trees clean the air, right? They do something like that with the whole consumption of carbon dioxide combined with the production of oxygen?)

Once off the bus, I headed up to the Library of the Performing Arts, not quite sure what I was looking for. The next show I am working on uses some "mixed media" ideas. This is something that is a bit out of my comfort zone, and is certainly not my "thing". But the script was written with the idea of exploring these conventions, and since for both the playwright AND myself, it presents a new challenge and an opportunity for growth, we are going to stick to that idea. (That sounded really arty-zen-touchy-feely. Sorry.) I guess I was looking for images of stage designs where projections were used, as some sort of inspiration.

Once there though, I realized that the place is much too overwhelming for such a non-specific search, and that it was lame to look to other stage designs for ideas. That borders on plagiarism. My inspiration should come from non-theatrical sources.

Anyway, I roamed a bit, checked out their exhibit on the Public Theater, and got lost in the stacks. While there, I nearly ran into (literally - I was looking down at my call numbers and nearly bumped into this guy in the middle of an aisle) this guy in a jersey adorned with Greek Letters. He looked like a sort of meathead cum white hat, and he started telling me about how he was looking for materials to write his thesis, and what was I researching. I was so confused by the encounter ("What was a meathead doing at the Library for the Performing Arts? Why is this twenty year-old kid talking to me? And why would he be displaying Greek letters? Drama Frat? Shudder to think") that I couldn't really engage in conversation (and I'd just been on a bus for four hours, so I really didn't want to) but I wandered away, a bit confused.

Had I really seen Greek letter man in the dramatic theory section, or was it all just a dream?

Anyway, from there I headed downtown to meet this filmmaker guy who is (probably) handling the one more complex projection/film sequence in the play. He is friends with the filmmaker, and after much email and phone tag, I think we have approval from everyone involved to use him for this. We met here, which is just across the street from two other "only in New York" type locations, Moby's Vegan bake shop Teany and the female friendly Toys in Babeland.

He had that uber East-village-hipster-filmmaker look about him (dark rimmed glasses that he kept pushing up on top of his head, white t-shirt, dark jeans, bald head) but nonetheless -- I liked his ideas, so I think it will work out well.

From there I headed to Brooklyn (Brooklyn!) to meet my best friend of all time and then some, T. T is pregnant, and was part of the childhood girlfriend reunion I had in June. She is more pregnant now (that's the way it works, I guess). We had scrumptious cheap middle eastern food here and I drank Anchor Steam byob beer while she had a non-alcoholic guiness (who knew?)

We caught up on our lives and other people's lives, and work and relationships and movies. On the way there we stopped at one of the super-cute Brooklyn boutiques (the burrough is crawling with them) and she bought a onesie adorned simply with "718".

Ahh, the Brooklyn-obsessed. Though admittedly, it is hard to blame them.

I then headed back into Manhattan to hang out with a playwright friend who moved to Alphabet City from DC several months ago. His apartment was throwing a party, I was not game for actually staying at the party since he and his crew all graduated about two years ago making them, yes, twenty-two to twenty-three years old, and I thought maybe I'd feel a bit, well, old.

So I caught him pre-party, we (ate?) jello shots and (drank) tequila shots, I re-lived the hey-day of my early twenties (which was probably the last time I did a shot) and then moved on. From there I went to Big Bar, which is a complete misnomer, and met my friend J who lives in Russia, and her friend K who lives in New York but is from the Ukraine.

J and I worked together for a very short time about five years ago when we were both living in New York. It was one of those abbreviated but intense friendships. We had some good times and funny memories from a very short period of time. We were working together in a crazy atmosphere, were both living it up in New York, both in our mid-twenties, and both ready to jump into the deep end, as it were.

After that year, she moved to St. Petersburg and I moved to DC.

I think we are both considerably more stable, now, be that a good or bad thing. Perhaps a bit more grounded. But she still has this amazing contagious laugh, and is so smart and interesting and worldly. I am so glad that we were both in NY at the same time this weekend. That was amazing good luck.

Finally, I headed to the West Village to meet my dear friend B (my best friend who is a guy) who was having a drink after getting off his work shift. We relocated to Blue Ribbon, where we finished out the evening, me -- tired, a little drunk, and rambling on and on about how I think I want to have kids someday.

At 4am, we took a cab uptown to his apartment.

I wish I was kidding. Like I said, I am getting too old for this.

The next morning I felt like I'd been hit by a Mack truck. I was going to see a run through of my friend J's show that he is rehearsing for the Fringe Festival, since I won't be able to see an actual performance.

The show is quite good, the actors are very talented, and J looks and sounds great. It was good to see him as well, albeit briefly. They were rehearsing in the set designer's Chelsea loft which was ah-maz-ing.

I want one.

From there I headed down to meet my brother, we picked up his lady friend from her job, and then I had an extremely authentic Greek salad at the Waverly Diner. Hairy anchovies and all. Mmmmmm.

On the bus ride home there was one very loud, verbal argument, and one person trying to smoke in the bathroom. Which completed my Greyhound experience nicely.

I love New York.

"Ex-Gay" Follow Up

Our young blogger made it home from "straight camp".

Hello Muthah, Hello Fathah
Greetings from Camp Hetero-wantah.
Camp is cool now. I'm getting butcher.
And in time, they tell me, I won't want Ashton Kutcher!

It's a Beautiful Day in my Neighborhood

Earlier this week I attended a happy hour for the community newspaper I write for, Voice of the Hill.

The paper has just undergone a major shift in ownership, as a company that owns several other neighborhood papers in DC purchased Voice of the Hill from the original owner/creators this past spring. The couple that started the paper five years ago are wonderful, diverse hill denizens -- they also own and operate a theater on H street (my friend from school is the Artistic Director of their resident company), have their own graphic design and printing company, and happen to be the people who instigated my trip to West Virginia this spring.

The Hill can be a pretty incestuous place. But in a good way.

Anyhow, I started writing for them about a year after I moved here, and have always been so glad I happened upon the outlet. A good friend of mine at the time was the assistant editor. At the time, they were just looking for people who would meet deadlines (or at least come relatively close. "Relatively" being the operative word.)

Writing for the paper has given me a sense of community that I have never really had. Anywhere. I can tell you quirky stories about long time Hill business owners, or idiosyncratic Hill characters, or random Hill destinations -- like the Farmer's Market on H Street or the American Legion post in SE.

The Happy Hour was a nice time. It was great to see the couple that owns the paper, who I hadn't really seen since Berkeley Springs, and also to put faces to names I've only seen in print for the last three years. It took place on Barrack's Row, which is an amazing example of recent DC Development projects, and one that, in my opinion, has been handled quite well. The 8th Street corridor, which was relatively bare and sketchy when I first moved here, is now - almost - a destination spot. They have managed to avoid having major chain anything's (restaurants or shops) move in, and it seems to have maintained a pretty grassroots, localized merchant base. Something that other developing areas (think Chinatown/Penn Quarter) have absolutely NOT managed to do.

The question of gentrification is a sticky one. I am not of the belief that all development is bad. A neighborhood where people shop and eat and play is always, in my book, better than one with deserted storefronts or dollar store after dollar store. I do not want to see long-time residents pushed out. So it is finding a balance between progress and sterilization, growth and overhaul, that is the challenge for urban developers.

It is, always, interesting to watch what is happening in this neighborhood.

There is actually an interesting article on page 44 of this month's issue (you can scroll down in the pdf), discussing future plans for a building on 8th Street SE, that for years has been a church but was originally built as a movie theater and vaudeville house at the turn of the century. Restauranteurs tried to get their hands on it as soon as the building went up for sale, but now it looks like the neighborhood has nixed that idea.

The plans outlined by the VOTH writers are extremely attractive -- a sort of performing arts center/theater/arts space, to work in conjunction with (not in competition with) the already existing CHAW.

Another group developed the idea of a mixed-use
venue that allowed for a variety of arts to use the
space as needed. Representatives from Capitol Hill
Arts Workshop were in attendance and discussed
their need for new performance space to allow for
the continued growth of their very popular Catalyst
Theater Company, Films on the Hill, and over-subscribed
programs for children and emerging artists.
Parker Jayne, a longtime Hill resident and theater
expert, put some considerable thought into the
project. He suggested that the space could function
very much like a budget Millennium Stage, the popular
performing arts space located in the Kennedy
Center. He envisions the theater hosting 360 events
a year;every night of the week to drive pedestrian
traffic to Eighth Street. Patrons would be able to
come to the theater on a whim to be entertained.
The space would be rented by emerging professionals
and experienced amateurs for a low fee. Many
small theater companies, choral societies, and performance
groups have the skills to put on marvelous
performances, but lack the financial resources to
own a performance space. The theater would not
discriminate against artistic mediums and would be
open to theater groups, musical artists, film clubs,
and dance troupes. Jayne commented that with the
high degree of maintenance given to the building
by the People's Church that the theater is ready to
go for a show tomorrow night!

I love the idea. It is a great location, and I really think the Hill could support another theater space. And if this did happen, then maybe my friend S and I would finally start the theater company we always talk about starting.

The other thought was an independant movie theater, which would also be stellar.

It's exciting. I hope one of these comes through, and that we don't simply end up with a gigantic book store or family style restaurant.

End of an Era

I finished watching SEX AND THE CITY last night. And by that, I mean the final four episodes.

I didn't intend to. I started the first of the last at about 11:30pm thinking I'd watch just one, and then suddenly it was 2am, and I was sitting there with tears running down my face as Charlotte and Harry finally got their baby, and Miranda and Steve realize that they love each other for all of the right reasons, and Samantha proudly pulled off her chemo wig and Carrie looked up from her hotel breakdown in Paris to see Mr. Big.

Umm, sorry. "John".

I remember when the last episode came out there was ample discussion about whether it was a let down. As I recall, people were disappointed that the ultimate happiness came to all of these women by finding the "right man".

Yeah - it's totally a white knight solution. No argument there. Especially Carrie, who ultimately has Big rescue her from disaster and heartbreak in Paris, quite literally "picking her up off of the floor".

So sue them.

It is a show about dating and sex. Of course the happy ending comes when they all find their mate. Isn't that usually the "happy ending" of all love stories? And it is not only about the men in this case. It is as much about that city - and the love affair with New York that these four women have.

So it's done with. Over.

Now I will have to move on to the dvds of SIX FEET UNDER and CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM.

Everybody Hurts, Sometimes

Dating Hell Diarist is a blog I have occasionally found myself lingering on. She went on hiatus for a while, partially because she was getting pretty involved in an exclusive relationship, and there is not much to write about dating when, well, when you are not "dating".

She's back and the story of what went wrong is posted in several segments.

I must somewhat sheepishly admit that I just spent the last thirty minutes reading about her saga.

And it makes me think that yes - perhaps doing the dating thing IS far more difficult (read: confusing, elusive, tormenting, trying) than working at making a relationship last. Because, in a relationship, you at least can rely on the premise that both parties are equally invested. Until that changes. But usually, you have a pretty good idea if it does change.

Usually.

Ouch.

And By "Separation of Church and State", I Mean "Incorporating Western Religion into Every Aspect of American Life"

Oh Mah God.

Strike that. Bad choice of words.

Oh Mah Darwin.

Weekend Tidbits - What I Saw

(Warning: this particular post may gush a bit with hometown pride. Do not read if you can't deal with that.)

I saw two shows this weekend, both of which I'd seen the original productions in New York. And both were considerably more moving, more honest, and more interesting than their New York counterparts. Now, I am not a New York theater basher. I chose to stay in DC for many, many reasons, some of which I don't even understand, but I do not by any means say, "Bah! New York theater is bad!!" It's not. Often, it's very good. And just due to the sheer variety of it, there is always something worth seeing there.

But this weekend I saw two plays that needed to be seen on a smaller stage. Both were done in big houses in New York, one on Broadway, the other off-Broadway, and both were over-produced as a result. The production values interfered with telling the story. Especially in the case of the second one.

1. Take Me Out at Studio Theater. I have not seen something at Studio Theater for years. It is rare that I see anything there because ticket prices tend to be out of range and they are generally harder to get discounts or comps from than the other theaters in town. But a friend of mine was in this, and I managed to make it over.

But I'd seen the play before, and I didn't LOVE it then. I LIKED it, fine, and thought the Broadway production was clean and sharp, if a bit too slick for my tastes (which is odd, because I don't usually associate Joe Mantello with overly "slick" direction).

But seeing it in a smaller space at Studio made it feel like a different play. The second act, which brings much more gravitas to the story, made sense. I was actually moved.

I understand when plays or books or movies make baseball into this philosophical entity, because my father has made baseball a guiding force in his life. After his wife and kids, and maybe his commitment to teaching "good science" (his words, not mine) baseball holds a place of honor that nothing, NOTHING can usurp. Wine? Close. But I do think my father would give up wine before he would ever give up baseball.

And my friend (can I do this here? Can I gush for a friend?) Mr. Foucheux was, in Peter Mark's words, "sublime". His was a brilliant example of bringing an audience in, completely endearing them to you, and then guiding them along this journey, really - in the palm of his hand. It was a masterful performance, and I was so very proud of him. That was his last weekend in the show -- still see the show if you can, but be sure to catch Rick in the rest of his season.

2. The Last Five Years at Metrostage. Again, this closed this past weekend, so it is too late to catch it. But see the next show at Metrostage, or follow the leads to their next performances.

When I saw this in New York Jason Robert Brown had become big with Parade (a show I enjoyed, though certainly not flawless, and not particularly well received). Several years later he came out with The Last Five Years.

The show got some press because his ex-wife sued him when she realized quite how closely the show resembled their own starter marriage. Ouch. He changed a few details, but still, really, that must be tough.

Anyhow, they staged it at the Minetta Lane Theater, which is not a huge space, but somehow they felt the need to fill the stage with this giant clock (gee, is it a show that plays with the concept of time?), and had a turntable with boats, and cars (were there cars? I remember cars) coming in, and a lot of other things that I've blocked out of my mind.

The staging in Virginia was clean and simple, so I actually listened to the lyrics and followed the story. It is still a somewhat problematic show, but the performers handled the material beautifully, and I have to say, Tracy Olivera -- another DC talent - she's the real deal. Her comic timing is impeccable and her interpretation of a song is spot-on -- it is always clear that she knows the meaning of everything she is singing (why this is so difficult for singers to grasp sometimes, I don't know. It's just like Shakespeare. You have to know everything you are saying/singing. Tell the story.) And she never strays into the land of indication.

She was a divine pleasure to watch.

Weekend Tidbits - What I Read

1. As if to say, "We told you so!" the Modern Love column in the Times was one of the more insipid ones I've read. He gets off to a pretty good start, but then has to wrap it up with a meaningful bit of psycho-babble. Just tell the story! Let us draw our own conclusions.

2. More Mormon headlines.

3. So looking forward to Broken Flowers. And I really feel like I need to revisit the Jarmusch films I saw years ago. I never saw Coffee and Cigarettes. Is it worth it?

I love this: "The key, I think, to Jim, is that he went gray when he was 15," Waits, Jarmusch's close friend, would later say to me. "As a result, he always felt like an immigrant in the teenage world. He's been an immigrant -- a benign, fascinated foreigner -- ever since. And all his films are about that."

Which brings me to wonder, is Tom Waits not the coolest human being living today? Just, phenomenally... cool.

4. I read Michelle Orannge's story, An Interview With John Orange, On His Completion Of The Ceiling Of The Sistine Chapel, A Jigsaw Puzzle in Sun Magazine, but you can read it online at McSweeney's here, and here (they have it split into two parts.) It is so subtly funny, and touching, and in what seems to be a simple story about a puzzle you learn so much about this man and his relationship with his daughter. Read it.