Subway Friends, or Who AM I??

Hi. My name is Ryann. You might remember me from such notorious stranger friendings as the great piano on the subway/Pete & Sooz friending of '09 and the riding in the big red truck with a stranger from the Atlanta Airport to Alpharetta in the middle of the night caper of '00. Basically, if you know me, you know I have a strange knack for falling into groups of people and becoming friends with them. Especially on the subway. 


The girl who lives inside my head? I know her pretty well. But sometimes, another girl gets unleashed on the general public and I come back from a bullfight with three engineers masquerading as secret agents, Lorenzo, Rodrigo & Stefan, from Italy, Brazil & Austria (respectively) leading me to ask myself, "Who. Am. I?" 


Here's how it went down. I got onto the subway after the bullfight (I have a lot to say about the bullfight-- and all your commentary regarding my attendance, and I will do so once the tiny monsters stop eating my  brain) and ran to catch a train. As I ran, my sunglasses fell off my head and one of the matching hat guys I had noticed sitting near me in the plaza de toros (I noticed them due to their matching hats) kicked my shades onto the tracks as they also ran to catch the train. 


I could have let it go, but I could tell they all spoke English and all had different accents, so I decided to let Subway Friending Ryann out and gave him some shit about it. We chatted, figured out we were getting off at the same stop, they all live in the Netherlands, yada yada yada, and we decided they owed me a beer for losing my sunglasses. I buzzed my flat and told Aly and Erin that I was back from the bullfight and I had brought friends! 


Many cervezas and paellas and much terrace chatting later, we're all pals. Even on the facebook. So.... trip to the Netherlands, I suppose. 


Thanks for the fun times, newest pals. And muchas gracias to YOU, Espana. Check ya later, Madrid. It's been re-al. Next stop, Lisbon! 

My Favorite Holiday

Even though there are a lot of holidays I don't care for so much, there is one that is my absolute favorite-- it's today! Father's Day! I'm all about celebrating them.


Father's Day always reminds me of those last days with my grandfather, when I sensed the end was near, and frantically wrote the longest letter I've ever written (which is saying something, since I tend to specialize in long letters) and mailed it from Japan. I still write him a letter every year around this time. I had a lot to say to him this year.

I don't normally get to spend Father's Day with my dad, but I am sending love from a far. And one of the coolest things about my dad is that he understands exactly why I can't stay, could never stay close to home. This Father's Day (and probably a few more) sponsored by Skype. 

My dad wrote me the above message in high school and it goes with me pretty much everywhere. 

Here, also, as requested by several people is the Steamboat Springs Band version of "Statesboro Blues." Featuring my dad on a smokin' steel guitar (I made him that lightning bolt) and on lead vocals. For a little white dude, Pops can sing the blues. Happy Father's Day-- to him and all the other dads out there who know what's up. 

Perfect Prado

So the Prado might be my favorite museum I've ever visited. Not just because my favorite painting is there. Everything about the Prado is perfect. 


On the way in, we sat and listened to some Spanish guitar and I was curious as to these prints an old man kept slaving away over. They were prints-- just of flamenco dancers and bullfighters-- so I wondered what he was doing to them, as he clearly had an art kit on his table. Then I realized he was stenciling in people's names to the posters. And it was settled: I needed one of those bullfighter ones. 


It's going to look really good in my room, but that's not even why I want it. As I walked up, the man pulled out the flamenco girl, and started talking to me about putting my name on it. I let him know I wanted the bullfighter. And I didn't want my name on it. Oh, no. I wanted my bullfighter from my musical, Aries Brio. So now, I have a poster advertising a bullfight with my fictional character. I probably just can't relay to you how cool that is to me, but I'm just a big old nerd and anything that allows my characters to take a step from my head into the real world is pure gold. 


Inside the museum, I loved the preparatory sketches Goya did for his huge royal portrait. The Riberas scared me. But the main event for me was the Velazquez rooms. Specifically, Las Meninas. I think I stood in front of Las Meninas for about 30 minutes. I just love the way he uses color. I just love. 


Slightly interesting-- The Prado has this tendency to really interpret the art in a way that I haven't seen museums do in a while. What are your thoughts on that? I always go back to Susan Sontag's Against Interpretation and can't help wonder if being told what to think about art or anything else is kind of a Spanish Fascist hangover.


Last thing. The Prado does something so cool I can't stand it. If I had any way of getting the stuff home, I would have done it. The have prints on demand. You scroll through the masterpieces and they print it in any size for you, on a variety of different materials. Matte Finish, Glossy Finish, CANVAS! Really reasonably priced too. I think all museums should be doing this if they're not. Amazing. 


I gots wayyyyy more stories from yesterday, but I'll leave you for now. I need to soak up some more sun and head out of town to check out El Escorial. 

Floating above Madrid

I'm writing to you this fine Spanish morning from the place that makes all life worth living: my terrace. My sun-filled, flower-covered terrace. It's not too hot and I'm sipping some coffee while the birds chirp away high above the already bustling streets. I could get used to a pent house in Madrid. 


Yesterday once we arrived, we took a few minutes to just enjoy the place before heading out to explore. We walked through Plaza Sol and Plaza Mayor and all around our building. I think I'm officially in love with Madrid. I like the odd angles and the way buildings don't sit straight on their lots. I like that there's balconies on almost every building I've seen. Somehow it feels like someone took a paint brush to Paris-- aesthetically speaking, that is. 


Anyhow, off to the Prado and who knows what else today. Hope wherever you are, you can take 5 minutes on a terrace and soak up the day. 

Dublin Castle

Dublin looks different than I imagined it. I suppose I thought it looked a lot like Glasgow, and so I was really thrown by all the brick. Even the Castle is largely looming brick buildings surrounding a court yard. It's more colorful than I thought, with one whole side of the castle looking a bit like Albuquerque, New Mexico. 

After our extensive tour of Dublin courtesy of Erin, we chillaxed in the park on an awesome sunny day and tried to prepare for the amount of sun we'll be getting for the next week. Everyone told me Dublin was expensive, but I sort of thought they were exaggerating. They weren't. The drink prices, combined with my company-- the best New Yorkers-- made me feel like we were back in the Big Apple like old times. I could get too used to having these two around all the time. See you in Madrid!

Hat Party!

I'm in the air today and checking out Dublin for just 24 hours, but while I'm doing that, here is a taste of Zaza's Birthday Party. My friends are always having parties with cool themes (remember the Poirot themed New Year's Party?) and this one was a hat themed party. 


I wore my vintage hat from Savannah. It was great to finally have an excuse to wear that baby out in public.  I have a few more interesting things coming up about hats, so if you're into those, stay tuned. In any case, I think I'm really starting to get behind this whole themed party thing. What are some of your favorite party themes? If I threw a themed party in the near future, what should I do?

Inverary Update: The Nexus of my loves

Update: You guys, I apologize. That post this morning was crap. In my defense, it was six AM and I don't normally do that time of day. To make it up to you, I'm going to tell you some badass shit I learned and musical theatre dork things that happened to me today at Inverary. 


First, I want to tell you that the Scottish mass transit system gets a big fail on getting to Inverary. Even in attempting to book everything in advance, they kinda dropped the ball. And forty quid each seems a bit steep. Good news is, after the train to Glasgow and the two hour bus past beautiful Loch Lomond, etc etc, we arrived at some seriously quaint seaside townage action. 


Then there was the castle. Which, truthfully, was just the jam. It's like the perfect sized castle (She says). I think it might even be my fave, just on looks. The weather could NOT have been better and even though we woke up at the butt crack of dawn, Aly and I were gleefully skipping up the drive. 


Once inside, everyone was THE NICEST. One dude kind of became "our guy." He told us all the inside stuff about the Duke, Torquhil, (the youngest in all of Europe. Shares an unusual name [spelled unusually] with frequent Fergie & Fife partner in crime. Used to date Julianne Moore. Apparently she was desperate to be a Duchess. That's the word he used. I have a hard time picturing J. Moore desperate for anything, but, ya know.... when in Rome....) and his wife, Eleanor (heiress to some Cadbury millions) as well as all the infamous past Dukes of Argyll (which were gay, married to royalty, gay & married to royalty, recluses, and married to prostitutes).


THEN! Then. Prepare, those who love musical theatre. I sat. At the piano. Where Lerner & Lowe composed a good bit of "My Fair Lady" when they were guests of the Duke. 


!!!


Jen Tepper, I'm thinking of you. 


So all in all, we OWNED Inverary. It was the best. And I was with the best companion. On the best day.  Just wanted to share some of the joy with you fine people. Tomorrow, onward to Dublin. 

Aly at her Clan Seat

Road trip day- again- Inverary

Today, we are going here. I, I kinda don't have much else to say about this. I mean.... You know how I feel about castles. And this one seems particularly castley. For more awesomeness, check out here. And here. And for the lovely town. I'm even going to the seat of Clan Campbell with my very favorite Campbell. Heaven. 

Glen Grant Distillery Tour

This post is late because Aly and I are in full-throttle Tour of Scotland mode. Today, I've been showing her all the fine stuff St Andrews has to offer, but yesterday, we had a super duper road trip which involved a four hour trip to the Glen Grant whisky distillery up in Rothes in the Highlands as well as some quality time at Bamff where we saw beavers!

But back to the whisky. The tour was pretty cool, and of course, I'm always happy to drink some delicious Glen Grant. I especially enjoyed learning about the Angel's Share and the interesting fungus associated with it.

"Angels' share" is a term for the portion (share) of a wine or distilled spirit's volume that is lost to evaporation during aging in oak barrels. The barrels are typically French or American oak. In low humidity conditions, the loss to evaporation may be primarily water. However, in higher humidities, more alcohol than water will evaporate, therefore reducing the alcoholic strength of the product. In humid climates, this loss of ethanol is associated with the growth of a darkly colored fungus, the Angels' Share fungus, Baudoinia compniacensis, on the exterior surfaces of buildings, trees and other vegetation, and anything else that happens to be nearby.

I can speak to the truth of this. All of the trees were black and leaned a little, as though they themselves might be a wee bit drunk. They also leaned in the direction of the store houses, like they just couldn't get enough.

Kris bought a bottle of 25 year old. I hope he lets me have some! Thanks to Aly for setting that up for us. And super special thanks to the captain of the ship, Torc, for volunteering for such an extensive road trip!!

I smell a Tony

Today is my first Tony Day away from New York since I moved there. Staving off my intense, heart-wrenching homesickness is Alyson Campbell & we had a great dinner party last night. 


Instead, we'll be heading up north to the Glen Grant Distillery, then Bamff, then the beautiful St Andrews. 


As for you fair readers, I imagine many of you probably remember this little sketch. It just has a special awesomeness for me. It's one of my favorite things to ever have happen while I was working on the B'way. It still makes me laugh my ass off. The amazing Cubby Bernstein, Tony Campaign Manager.


The inside jokes! The faux seriousness! The celeb cameos!! Every. Single. Episode. 


Just...just watch Duncan's face. Priceless. "The Pre-mi-ere Tony Campaign Manager." 


Talkin about the Tonys! The Big T. Tony Tony Tony Tony. "I am more serious than a Shubert Stop Clause!" "You wanna work again? You thank the Shuberts." "We proudly audition for roles we created in the workshop the year before!" "So you're producers huh? I have unreturned phone calls older than you! You're children. Where are my jews? My gays?.... So you ARE producers...." "I wish you the Cort Theatre in February!!" God, I do sometimes miss the theatre so very much. Especially on days like today. Happy Tony Day everyone. 

Saturday Morning Cartoons

Dude. If the Wire were actually a cartoon, you KNOW I'd be watching that every Saturday with a big bowl of Fruit Loops, no doubt. And some coffee. Hope you're having a good one. I'm going exploring with ALY!!! Oh, indeed. 

via Just Press Play

More interpretations here.

Steel Guitar Friday

Today, I am cooking my grandmother's famous recipes to serve to my friends tomorrow. And I'm getting ready to celebrate the birth of the fantastic Zaza Shelley! 


And today, I am listening to the album I finally got around to buying: Amos Lee's Mission Bell. I don't know how it took me so long... there's a duet with Willie Nelson! I mean.... how did I miss that? But even more than just Willie, this album is slathered in steel guitar. And there's basically no easier recipe to get me to love something than to just coat the whole thing in some pedal steel.


Speaking of pedal steel: this weekend is the one year anniversary of the greatest weekend of my life/the greatest reunion of all time for the Steamboat Springs Band. I miss that family of mine. I'm glad they're still plugging along and making as much music as they can. I am still proud to be a child of this bunch. 


Enjoy some of this steel guitar goodness for Friday!

Rewatching this video just made me cry!

Late Twenties!

Sadly, I remember very well a time when all I wanted was to be out of my early twenties, so people would take me seriously. (Isn't that hilarious? Like, truly?) Actually, most of my New York girlfriends felt sort of similarly. We didn't want to have to wait until we were older to have the things we were striving so hard for every day in New York. 

So on my 24th birthday (half a decade ago) at (still) the most beautiful bar I have ever been to, the Stanton Social, we invented our battle cry: MID- TWENTIIIIIIIES!!  (There was an arm thing that went with it. You maybe had to be there.) We kept doing that for years, on everyone's birthdays. It was our empowerment mantra. 

Which is why, though I have so many concrete amazing little encapsulated kernals of memories involving Alyson Campbell (indeed, my New York experience started and ended with the girls of 4th & B) these memories tend to coagulate around birthdays. 

I remember when we surprised her for her 24th at her office. We made every screen saver in the office this big adorable picture of her and we told her to dress up and didn't tell her where we were taking her. And where we took her was what I thought was the only Scottish Bar in NYC (at the time, it actually might have been.) The Campbell Apartment. (Actually, the other most beautiful bar I've ever been to.) We were all pretty broke at the time, but we splurged on like $15 cocktails and felt... like grown ups. 

Which, of course, Aly always has been. She's like a rock. Probably the most dependable person I know. But maybe, a fuzzy rock? Because she's also one of the softest, most caring people currently living on the Earth. 

I mean, this girl moved to NYC from Bedford, Nova Scotia to work in music PR, and when she realized most people in the industry were flakes, she just started her own firm. At 23  years old! (Welsh readers, she's the publicist of the Welsh National Assembly. No joke.) And she's worked for herself ever since. She works harder than anyone I know. She cares about her work more than anyone I know. And never once has it ever even occurred to me that she would do anything other than what she said she would do. 

Today is her birthday. And do you know what she's doing today? Helping me get press for our show in Houston! She's a saint! Then, she's headed to this side of the pond for a journey through her ancestral home and a 4th & B girls adventure in Dublin and Spain. I know there will be wine and sunny roof terraces and all-night soul chats. I know I'll end up feeling more worthy of the ground I stand on, worthy of the enormously lucky life I lead, because she's even good at publicizing me to me. I've never not felt really loved in her presence. 

She's my publicist and my bestie. But she also makes me want to be HER publicist. I just want to beat the drum so that everyone in the world knows how rad Alyson Campbell is.

Ladies, we don't have to wait anymore. We're on our World Tour. And I can't wait to romp around Europe with her:  now, and into the future, when we'll be calling MID- SEVENTIES through the streets of New York, Madrid, Edinburgh, Dublin, or wherever the hell else we decide to go. Because I'm pretty sure nothing could stop us. 

Mid-Week Nibbles

Well, the good news is that I've moved my convalescing operation to my kitchen table instead of my bed. Admittedly, it does make me feel like less of a loser. The bad news is, I'm still in pajamas and still feel a bit brain dead. I was planning to write something really insightful and whatnot for you guys today. Alas, it's just going to have to wait. 


Instead, here are some things that have been entertaining me from my bedside vacay. 

I'd live here!

More fab TED talks! Being happy in your life & being happy about your life. The confusion  about experience vs. memory. Ooooh. 

I think I either love or hate this decorating idea. 

More on the idea of writing for free.

Nice work, Michelle Williams. 

This was some funny (if self-conscious) food for thought regarding an old favorite movie.

Hypothetical Film Companies from my favorite fictional characters

Here's to me no longer being a gimp and exploring Madrid and Lisbon from the luxury of these beautiful spaces with the most wonderful NYC ladies, Aly & Erin. Legendary trip kicks off this Saturday. Wahoo!!

Let's over-simplify stuff with flow charts

Most of the time, I wish there were more straight-forward answers to things. Artistically, I get all turned on and what-not by negative capability and mono no aware, but, for my money, in my own life, quite a bit of the time, I wish it were as simple as a flowchart. 


Sometimes, I think it actually is that simple.  Maybe I've had too much time laid-up in my perfect bed with my brain is rotting, but I thought it would be fun to have some time-saving, problem solving charts to make life's answers a little more accessible. 


You know, life's toughest questions: Am I happy? Should I have a cookie? And most importantly, Should I work for free?

Childhood Shenanigans Gone Awry

Sometimes I don't like to admit to myself that I can't do the things I could do when I was a kid. When I was a kid, I loved swings. Still do. My dad would push me really hard and while all the other parents were scared-- kept saying, "Be careful, don't go over the bars," my dad would encourage it. And I would laugh and laugh and then jump as far as I could out of the swing. 


But yesterday, I learned the hard way that jumping from swingsets is not for 29 year olds. While at a super fun Save the Free Beavers of Tay event in beautiful Dunkeld, I jumped in wellies and am now laid up in my bed, unable to walk from a sprained ankle. I should stick to writing about childhood instead of reliving it. 

Vote! Call Backs are Today??

Man, time moves so fast! I can't believe as of today, thousands of miles away, in Houston, we'll be selecting a brand new group of baby birdies for the VOTE! family. Every time we do this show, I wonder how I'm going to make room in my heart for all the fabulosity of a new group. But I always do.  Because they're always awesome. 


I woke up this morning ready to drink my coffee and listen to the concept album before banging out some edits and updates. This is the last week before I give them the final script! It never gets old-- knowing that the better you make a joke, the closer you are to a true moment, the funnier it will be, the clearer it will be to the real people who have graciously given you their time. 


In case you weren't sure, guys, I love being a writer more than anything in the world. Thanks for letting me be one. 


Hope you're having a great Sunday. (PS- isn't this paper planes passport cover amazing??? For someone who flies as much as I do, and writes songs called "Paper Planes," I may need this.)


For more information on the VOTE! TUTS production, please check out www.tuts.com/vote

More on Freedom

It's my favorite.  It's one of those words that's come to have a really comprehensive definition with colors and feelings and everything. Hope you're having a wonderful, freeing Saturday!

If I saw Naipaul in a dark alley

Naipaul is crying- what a pansy-ass!

Over the course of this year, they funneled us a lot of "special opportunities for women writers" kinds of fliers and whatnot. I feel sort of pulled about separating out women writers from writers. Which seems to be in the air all this year and last. From the Franzenfreude era to the truly barf-worthy news yesterday of colossal jackass VS Naipaul, who finds no woman writer in all of literature to equal him. 


I don't really care if he has a Nobel. He better hope he never runs into me on the street if he wants to keep his teeth. Because, given the chance, I'd knock them down his throat with my tiny, determined, "sentimental," "feminine tosh" fist! My "narrow view of the world" would be so narrow that all I could see was  his face and me, hitting it. 


Okay, rage over. Because, at the end of the day, I can't help but think how actually BORING his comments are. The difference between Naipaul's asshole comments and, say, Franzen's, is that Franzen's comments about men and women are rooted in concern over the lack of male readership in serious fiction. While Naipaul seems so certain no women can match him as writers, women are still who read all the good fiction. While Franzen's comments were interpreted as the same message, actually, they were more the opposite (though I can see how they were received that way:

"So much of reading is sustained in this country, I think, by the fact that women read while men are off golfing or watching football on TV or playing with their flight simulator or whatever. I worry — I'm sorry that it's, uh — I had some hope of actually reaching a male audience and I've heard more than one reader in signing lines now at bookstores say 'If I hadn't heard you, I would have been put off by the fact that it is an Oprah pick. I figure those books are for women. I would never touch it.' Those are male readers speaking. I see this as my book, my creation." (NPR's Fresh Air)

And furthermore, why does everything have to be judged in terms of less than, greater than, or equal to? The whole point of different voices and different people is that there is a multitude of things out there most of which are neither greater than or less than. And what qualifiers are we using to judge these things? Critical success, (most critics being men)? That unsentimental litmus test of money?? Because if we're going by that, then I'm sorry, Mr. Naipaul, but JK Rowling is not only not your match, but she is truly, definitely kicking the shit out of you. She's actually knocked your teeth out, in a way that I can only dream about for the moment. 


I think it bears repeating because I still completely agree with Jennifer Weiner and Jane Smiley on the issue:

"It's just interesting to sort of stack them up against a Lorrie Moore or against a Mona Simpson — who write books about families that are seen as excellent books about families," Weiner says. "And then to look at a Jonathan Franzen who writes a book about a family but we are told this is a book about America."

Jane Smiley:

"There's an aspect of fiction that is being written by women that is really smart, really daring, in terms of the subject matter that it takes on — and really popular. And I think it's being overlooked because it's so, so straightforward and because the payoff is emotional rather than intellectual."

On a more positive note, I think one of those emails we got from the English Department about opportunities for women writers is great. Linen Press is an all women small publisher. Good for you, Lynn Mitchell. 

Now, I'm off to write some more sentimental, narrow-minded fiction. And you just try to stop me, Naipaul. I may be small (and a chick!) but as anyone who's ever seen me angry can attest, I'm not someone to cross.

Oh, and, like, Happy Friday! I gotta go get ready for a garden party. 

Exploring Edinburgh on Errands

Lately, I've been using all the errands I do as excuses to explore Edinburgh. I just walk everywhere I need to go-- even if it's more of a bus trip. Earlier this week, I had to go all the way to the water, down Leith Walk (which I sort of compare to the NYC equivalent of Alphabet City in the 90's) to pick up my new Emily Hogarth Caledonia in grey. (It's beautiful!) On the way back, rather than take Leith Walk again, I followed the Water of Leith Path. 

It was the longer route. The whole excursion took about two and half hours, but it was worth it. I'm really loving learning how much there is to appreciate about the city. (Especially if the sun is out!) I recommend walking to an unfamiliar neighborhood in your town too. It's good to get out of ruts and see what you might have been missing. 

Pop this catchy could only be about losing your man to another man

Since I gave you Franzen this week, I want to make sure I also hit you with some populist schlock. I find it's helpful when you're working on serious things like dissertations to be watching at least one terrible television show. For me, right now, that terrible show is Made in Chelsea. It's like The Hills, but with polo...and none of the girls know that their boyfriends are gay. And I mean geigh. 


In spite of the fact that show is totally manufactured, and almost everyone on it is clearly using it as a platform to launch a music or design career, one of those music-career-launching, ultra-gay-boyfriend-having hopefuls is, to me, pretty good. Today, my guilty pleasure has been Greek songstress Gabriella Ellis's Fight-- the song she wrote after her boyfriend Ollie broke up with her and finally revealed that (SHOCKER) he's into guys too. 


But don't let the fact that she's really in for a fight on this one ruin the song for you. I kind of love it. I've listened to it about 20 times this afternoon while cleaning my house. I like her voice. Sure, she's a little heavy on the affected pop stylings, but... it's a bit to be expected. And if you actually have good diction in a pop song, they'll say you're too musical theatre. Can't win for losing. 


Happy Hump Day. Here is a preview of gay Ollie (so you can see what I mean. I'm talking, anyone could spot this guy coming from a thousand miles away!) and a live acoustic version of Fight. You can hear the whole "produced" song here.