Happy Belated Birthday to my Blog!

Yesterday, I was so busy checking things off my to-do list for the move that I didn't even remember to celebrate the 2nd anniversary of my blog. Two great years and 767 entries later and I'm still committed to the mission. And that's the mission of staying present in the middle of striving for that life we all want. It's easy to lose perspective. It's easy to look at a situation in the most negative way possible. Unless you've got a mission everyday to travel through all the beautiful places and savor each little moment of creation. 


In celebration, I think I'm going to find...or bake myself if necessary... some red velvet cake. Brits aren't really familiar with Red Velvet (they tend to think it's cherry-related. It's not. Think chocolate) and I think that is a travesty. 


I'm also going to celebrate by giving you a small snippet of a super un-edited section of my novel. The section is about the very nature of savoring. And our rituals to keep that alive on a daily basis. Jeannie, my main character, is sort of a project of my worst imaginings. What I might have become if I'd stayed tired in NYC and lost sight of what it means to savor. Hope you enjoy! It's after the jump. And, as always, thanks for reading! 

A New York Magazine for London?

One of the first things I investigated when I decided I was moving to London was "What is the London equivalent to New York Magazine." I am not ashamed to admit my enormous love for NYMag, with its deliberately over simplified guide to life, the Approval Matrix and the way it's smarter and more engaged than Time Out, but doesn't require the brain power of, say, The New Yorker. (Not that I don't love you, New Yorker. I do. Eternally.)


From the intricate steps for getting and/or finding the perfect Reuben Sandwich to to the real estate guides, to the fights they would sort of instigate between various NY Celebs, I'm not sure I would have survived NYC without it. Yep, I love NYMag so much, I still subscribe to it. So imagine my dismay when I learned... there IS no London equivalent. I'm not alone in my quest to find such a magazine. But Time Out is hardly a magazine. It's full of list-icles. There is little to no commentary on the events or features on key aspects of what it means to live in London. 


Oddly, one of the best things I've found in my quest (and remember from when I read it in my hard copy of the original issue back in 2007) was this article comparing London to New York. The article is less of a fight and more of an honest look at the differences for people expecting one thing or another. Which is valid, and useful for people like me who still (and most likely always) will use the New York experience for the basis of comparison on any other experience. 


Some of the valid points:
- Dinner parties. Gwyneth Paltrow finds them more interesting in London. And one good reason for that is people don't have dinner parties in NYC. They eat out. Normally in very small groups.
- There should be an affordable unlimited tube pass. Bottom line. 
- You can't get a bar/restaurant job and really support yourself the way you can in NYC because of that whole no tips thing. The bartender I dated in New York made twice what I made. 


But comparisons aside, I'm excited for London to be a city for my 30s. It's just too bad there's not a delightful guide for us, like NYMag. LDNMag perhaps? I'm thinking someone should solve this problem. Maybe even me. 

Photo: Paola Kudacki for New York Magazine

SmashCap - Ep. 3 - "Life is long. Theatre is longer."

Episode 3, "Mr. DiMaggio" was simultaneously the blood-boiling-est & the boring-est of the eps so far for me. And not just because of the extended presence of cheating Will Chase. Or the fact that the actual plot line for his & Deb Messing's characters on the show is as... you guessed it...cheaters. Here's the good and the bad from last night's offering. 


The Goodish
- That class & Oxbridge Brit-off between Dev & Derek Wills. What's funny/sad is that it's not an exaggeration. How you can tell that both of them have been in the states for too long is how direct they were about it.  They've learned to ditch the subtext. "I can hear it in the O's." "Oxford." "The other place." My favorite line was from Derek: "Oh, I'd forgotten this game."


- More Dylan & Becky Ann Baker!
- The best chemistry on the show belongs to Angelica Huston & Jack Davenport
- Jack Davenport reminding Kat McPhee that musicals take FOREVER.
- "We'll be at Vintage." I'm glad they pick bars where people actually go. 
- I sort of want one of those animated GIFs of Deb Messing justifying adultery. That's rich. 


- Ellis, the too-big-for his-britches assistant. Dude is certainly scheming. And way ahead of himself. LIKE WAY. The stealing of notebooks. The eavesdropping. The ownership of ideas. See, there's a difference between a concept and an idea. And I don't think anyone would actually have kept him around that long. But it is good plot for the show. For the record. FOR the record. I just want to say this now because I was personally offended during the scene: if Steven ever has an assistant and that assistant ever blocks my entrance to a room or says, "Maybe you should give Steven some space," not only will I fire that person, but I will crush them. Just FYI. 


The Badish
- Sorry, but Kat McPhee lacks any and all energy. Even when she's performing. Did you for one minute believe her "Redneck Woman?" More like "Beige-neck." Girlfriend is neutral. I hate to pull a VOTE! quote here, but "You're not even vanilla. You're like unscented deodorant." I think they've officially lost me on her. 


- A Bruno Mars show at La Mama? 'Member when I said kudos for reminding us that the timeline of a musical is LONG? Right, now apply that here. Bruno Mars has been on the scene like a year. He doesn't even have enough material to make a show out of. They clearly just wanted to do that specific song with Will to ape his last performance as Roger in RENT. La Mama does some strange shit (I lived across the street for a lonnnng time) but never that crazy. And never that commercial. Ridiculous. 


- "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" is the weakest song to date. Conceptually. Musically. Lyrically. I'm imaging the conversation I'd end up having with Steven if I sent him those lyrics. He'd zero right in there on the word "GRIP." That shit don't sing. And the song is boring. The clunky "Julia remembers how great her family is" montage over it didn't help. As my pal Kevin Michael Murphy (KMM) aptly tweeted, "Mr. & Mrs. Smith is the first song that will be cut from the musical." Truth. 


- Now that we've brought up DiMaggio.... Um, Will Chase looks NOTHING like Joe DiMaggio. There is nothing Joe DiMaggio-esque about him. In no world would I cast him as Joe DiMaggio. 


The Bottom Line
The plot itself is getting better, but too many Glee moments. More (good) original tunes. Less Bruno Mars and Gretchen Wilson please. Thanks for the reprieve on the tired adoption plot though. 

Barf.

Tate Modern - A Year Later

In early February of 2011, my pal Adam and I went to the Tate Modern. He said I had to see the turbine room. Exactly one year later, I was meandering through on a snowy Sunday with my NYC pal Emily. I've never been the biggest appreciator of modern art. It is slowly growing on me though. And some stuff I still only enjoy from a child's amusement perspective.  The Sleep & Poetry stuff was wild and weird. Japanese pop art always always makes me happy. Venus & the pile of laundry got a laugh. 


One exhibition, though, really got to me. It took the full year-- seeing it in 2011 and then seeing it reduced in 2012-- for it to really resonate. Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds exhibit. It started in the turbine room, a sheer feat of massive spectacle (all of the sunflower seeds were handmade and a little bit bigger than real seeds).


When I returned, the exhibit had been reduced to one small room, a half-hearted pile. 


And maybe it's just the melodramatic side of me, but I was struck by, well, mortality. It was really beautiful and sad. Everything with its time and place. A time to be a headliner. And a time to be relegated to the sideshow. 

Buy Yourself Some Old World Charm

One of the best things about moving is imagining the elaborate nesting process that will take place once I've gotten the keys. I don't even have a flat yet, but I'm already decorating it. And feeling glad that it will feel like mine. At least half mine. 


San Diego based husband/wife artist team Chelsea and Philip are are making just the kind of stuff I want to fill my new house. These vintage light fixtures are products of their company Typewriter Boneyard, but Chelsea also has her own etsy shop & blog.


Will I ever get enough vintage electronics? Probably not. So thanks, Chelsea & Philip for giving me my fix. 

Photos via

Music for a Saturday Walk - "Hope You Know"

Sunny and Windy in Edinburgh, it was a good day to pack and go for a lonesome walk. Only a few days left in Edinburgh. North Carolina band Megafaun & "Hope You Know" was my soundtrack. Hope everyone in Edinburgh knows how much I'll miss them. 

Crush-Worthy Links

Happy Friday! What are you doing this weekend? I'm busy packing and painting and writing. So much to do before London and so little time! Funny how, not even that long ago, the amount of time I had to wait to move seemed interminable. Now I feel the rush to get it all done in time. I suppose it's the same old story: too much/not enough. I know I'm going to start off right in my new home city though: I have bunches of NYC friends visiting the first two weeks I'm there. Easy that transition right along. Now, we'll transition to the links. 


This week, I talked a lot about new crushes or some hotties you may not have known about. Today, I remind you of the mainstays. Enjoy.


- My #1 man in the world, Paul Rudd, attempts to talk dirty in new movie Wanderlust. 
- Speaking of which, remember that time in Miami when Jennifer Aniston hit on my boyfriend WHILE wishing me a happy birthday? Yeah, that was funny. 
- Happy V-Day from the Gos.
- The #1 sexiest man in the universe... does...anything. That's newsworthy. 
- Let's not forget Fassby though. You check out here & my review of Shame here. Also this. (McC!)
- Writers! Some of my faves respond to John Barth in Granta


And more things to give you a toothache:
-Those adorable children from PS22 singing Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know."
- If you don't know Wanderlust Europe. You really should. It will make you want to sell your life and be a vagabond. 

Crush Week: Ioan Gruffudd

Sometimes, when Zaza and I have been separated by our various travellings, we feel the need to overcompensate with an extended series of girl-time sessions. This week, we started that bastion of late 90's-ness, Hornblower, featuring the hottie Ioan Gruffudd in his younger days. 

Zaza is who also taught me how to pronounce Welsh, so for you Americans reading this, the double d is pronounced like a "th." (Side note, the one Welsh sound my mouth just won't make is the "Ll" which is essentially the sound of a loogie. The name Llewelyn has lost all its charm.) So but that makes Gruffudd is just "Griffith." 

Homeboy is a serious hero. He's always saving someone. He's always, like, the only boat going back for Titanic survivors. Or looking for downed Black Hawk planes. He plays roles like "Lancelot" (you might have heard of theguy) or "Mr. Fantastic."  You see where I'm going with this... 

(Only notable exception: Tony Blair in W.)

Anyhow, personally, I prefer the man in his current more weathered, manly incarnation. But the boy charmer who starts as a seasick, stuttering midshipman and ends as a heroic captain in the 18th Century Royal Navy is also good fun. Those curls. The swashbuckling. It's pretty dreamy. 

And even though the hair still manages to look nineties-ed-out, (even with extensions and wigs!)  and even though there's one shot where you can see a trailer park in the background, Hornblower is stil first rate costume drama fun. In fact, there is a little thing called HAW-- that's Hornblower Appreciation Week. I shit you not. Peep that if you get the chance. Along with any of Ioan Gruffudd's other performances. Your eyes will thank you. 

Crush Week Continues: Smash/Crush

Despite the dip in SMASH's ratings from the premiere, I thought, on the whole, this episode was a step in the right direction. Here's what went wrong and what went right with the show I can't help but have a crush on. 


The Goodish
All of the creative conversations and little moments on the street and in restaurants feel real now. And not just because Jordan Roth shows up (but huzzah for Jordan Roth!) In the pilot, I bought lyricist/composer friendship (obvs Deb Messing knows the Will & Grace schticky dynamic. Ugh, sorry, I just still hate her.) but in that scene, I felt the artistic collaboration. The number of times I've lounged on the couch, around a bulletin board or a piano with Steven, moving numbers around, just freestyling or chewing at the edges of what we're trying to do. 


And my favorite moment of the episode-- hands down-- they're talking about criminal checks on adopting a baby vs. writing a musical. Messing says, "And let me tell you there are a lot of people who should be stopped from writing musicals." And Borle's cackle/laugh/gesture "uhhuhI'm aware." I much prefer Borle as a gay man. 


(PS- my second favorite is when Anjelica Huston tells the twitty girlfriend of her ex, "we've met" and she responds, "I don't think so" and then Huston says all Huston-y "I dooooo!")


Also, I think Julia's right (fine, fine, I looked up her character's name)-- as least based on what we know so far-- that "Let Me Be Your Star" is a better opener than an act break. That song is also growing on me. I still hate the lyrics "Norma Jean's gone/She's moving on" but...what are you gonna do? 


Thanks for showing me some Savannah Wise, Jessica Lee Goldyn, and Katie Webber in this version.  


The Badish
The adoption plot is sort of already boring. Leo's speech? (In the BACKYARD!) I was completely disengaged. I kept thinking... did they recast him from the pilot? Or did his face just get plump? 


And then I kept thinking... BACKYARD!? And then... Brian d'Arcy James is a SCIENCE TEACHER?! 


So, listen. The feminist in me is like, good job, Theresa Rebeck. You don't cop out and make her married to a banker or whatnot. But... the realist in me says, ALL THAT brownstone was bought with musical money? With that backyard and crazy red walls and monstrous industrial sized refrigerator? Just.... 


On the realism front, I also gotta say this. Don't get me wrong; I like Raza Jaffrey as Dev. But as someone with intimate, tedious knowledge of the UK/US Work Visa system, especially with regards to public sector jobs like, say, the Mayor of New York City's office, I find it, well, impossible that he has that job. 


I haven't seen a genuinely Marilyn or Norma Jean moment from Kat McPhee. Even all dressed up, she doesn't look like her, she doesn't feel like her. I like Kat McPhee, and perhaps it's part of the punch they're trying to pull for the moment, but I don't see it. (Speaking, also of WTF on "not seeing it" why does the otherwise plugged in director keep going back to Scarlett Johansson?!? Please don't make me explain why that's wrong.) As far as production numbers go, I think "20th Century Fox" is a much less tired idea than the baseball number. 


The Bottom Line
The original music is improving. But it was Megan Hilty and a song not by Shaiman & Wittman, nor written for the Marilyn musical, that in my o-pinion delivered the most satisfying musical and emotional moment of the show to date. And that was the stripped down version of George Barry Dean, Troy Verges & Carrie Underwood's "Crazy Dreams."


Megan Hilty and Tom Kitt turned a song I never paid much attention to into a very present and applicable baby-tear jerker. I never cared for twang of the original. But Tom Kitt was at the piano for the number, with a nice montage over it. And I'll bet 10 bucks the man Kitt did that arrangement. He can arrange any song into brilliance. (Where was his Tony for American Idiot? No, seriously.) Sometimes less really is more. 


It was a good way to end the ep. because it's a reminder of how many little steps there are along the way. And how big each one feels. Even the reading. Even the workshop. Even if it's probably going to get recast and rewritten. But every day you get up to do it again is a little bit more of a dream continuing to come true.  I liked this episode for the same reason I like the show in general. Because it makes me feel like if I'm not part of something-- you know, really part of something-- that I'll just die. You gotta have that feeling every day. Every day without that feeling is scarier than any prospect of failure. 

Valentine's Day Crush: Beau Willimon

You can catch my weekly SMASH recap tomorrow, but on Valentine's Day, I'm going to give you a real live person to crush on-- direct from the world of theatre-- Mr. Beau Willimon. He's a little fancier these days, post- Oscar- nom, but I'll always see him as an in-the-trenches, street-vetted playwright. 


Beau first came onto my scene when my pal Johnny was starring in his play, Farragut North,  at the Atlantic. Did you see it? It was excellent. It went on to play LA, etc etc. 


Or perhaps you saw the film. Because THEN! George Clooney & Leonardo DiCaprio  took an interest. Worked with Beau and Grant Heslov to adapt the play into a little film called The Ides of March with the swoon-worthy Ryan Gosling. (Sorry you got upgraded, Johnny. You're still fab.) They even tweaked the script so that Clooney had a part-- the previously unseen candidate in an election rife with scandal. The previously suave (played by Chris Noth) campaign manager was triangulated against Clooney and Gosling and became a khaki and anorak'ed Philip Seymour Hoffman. That last tweak threw me for such a loop, I failed to recognize that it even was Farragut North for a minute there. 


Good ol' Beau and I have a lot in common. We've both lived many lives in a short time. Beau was a pool shark too! And is branching out into film & TV. He worked on about a million campaigns including Howard Dean's 2004 bid. Then there's his MFA from Columbia. Like me, he loves maps and walls.  Basically, Beau Willimon just always gets it right. He writes about politics. He loves Tennessee Williams. And he believes playwrights should stick together. What's not to love?


Come back to London, Beau, and we'll chat Tennessee. 

Crush Week Begins: Ode to a Mews

During Valentine's Week, I like to crush. Whether or not I have a real crush in my life at the time, I use this opportunity be inspired by all the dreaminess out in the world. Crushing is my muse.  I have talent crushes, life crushes, and even little mini crushes on real-life hunky people. Some of them I actually know, some of them are even available, but they're all awesome. I'm going to cheat a bit today, since it's not actually Valentine's Day until tomorrow. I have a crush on an apartment. A mews apartment. No, not that kind of muse. Though the coincidence is not lost on me. This place is inspiring me to imagine my new life and I love it. 


I've pretty much always wanted to live in a mews. You want to talk about romantic? Mews are about as romantic as you can get in modern urban living. Rows of charming little stable houses once used for falconry (that's a great word) they spread from Britain-- and specifically London-- to Canada and the US. (Remember when I was always looking for a hypothetical mews house to 'buy' in NYC? Or the whimsical, delightful Washington Mews? Sigh.) My room in Edinburgh looks out onto a mews, but I feel like it's time to upgrade. To Ovanna Mews. 


It has its drawbacks. De Beauvoir Town is cool from what I can tell, but the mews is in a bit of no man's land in terms of trains-- somewhere between Islington and Dalston. It hits the overground, but other than going to visit my pals Carrie and Adam in Hampstead, the Overground doesn't really go anywhere I anticipate needing to go on a regular basis. I see solutions. I need to be better about taking the bus. I'm contemplating (as I have been for some time) getting a bike with a basket.


It's a bit out of budget. It doesn't come furnished. We could furnish it, but I'd rather not spend the money or get strapped with a bunch of furniture. And really, I wish I could take everything that's already in this place. What do you think? Is this as crush-worthy as I think? Or am I just in that stage in the relationship when I overlook all the glaring faults?

Whitney, Addiction, & the Best Therapy I Ever Had

When people ask me how I manage to be as "normal" or "well-adjusted" as I am given my childhood, I almost never tell them this one key ingredient: Whitney Houston. Therapy is awesome. I pretty much think everyone could benefit from some therapy. It's important to see a professional. I spent time with a few. Some were actual psychologists and counselors, but more were professionals of another kind. The absolute best of the best-- musicians. 


It's not even just that Whitney's voice was perfect in 1991 and 1992...or effortless...or that she was an absolute first rate interpreter of songs. And that is so key, isn't it? Perfect voices don't mean much if there's nothing behind the eyes. If you aren't conveying the emotion behind the songs. 


It's not even that those songs on The Bodyguard soundtrack or any of Whitney's other hits were so applicable to my life situation as an abused 10 year old. But the depth of feeling behind everything Whitney sang-- that I knew. 


When I left my mom's house and moved in with my dad and my cold-as-ice step family in 1992, I had no where but the sanctuary of my own bedroom and my own mind. I locked myself in my room and sang at the top of my lungs to "I Have Nothing" so many times, it's actually no wonder why my stepfamily didn't like me too much. But I guess somewhere in my little kid subconscious, I knew that the only way out is through. 


I sang in front of the mirror. I cried a lot. I watched what it looked like and heard what it sounded like for me to feel everything I felt about having an addict for a mother, about being abandoned like that, about not feeling like I would ever belong anywhere. I looked myself in the eye and told myself everything I needed to hear. That's how I learned what it took to always land on the other side of whatever I was going to go through in my life. The cassette tape never gave out, never got sick of me. Whitney never felt that song any less, no matter how many times I needed to feel whatever I felt...at that level. 


You cannot opt out of these things if you want to survive. 


I suppose that's part of what makes me so sad today, thinking about Whitney's early passing and her own addictions. How could she so precisely feel it all in performing, but need the aid of cocaine, booze-- you name it-- in daily life? I think about how young she was when she got into the business. I think about what makes us secure and what draws us into our insecurities. 


Look at that video of the famous "Star Spangled Banner." There are so many levels. It's so rich. But the best part-- the part that reveals what was great about Whitney is everything about the word "brave" at the end there. Not because of the notes or the orchestra but because of how at home she was, how confident, how she knew herself and the world on that last chromatic breakdown. Watch her arms. Watch her face. How she knew exactly what the world was going to give her. And what her voice would do. Control. 


Which, of course, is a word I go back to a lot thinking about addiction. The difference between what you can and cannot control. Moments like the end of that National Anthem are so perfect, so perfectly full of emotion, it's hard not to look at her and think she's invincible. It's impossible not to think of my mother. How quickly you can go from an invincible heart to a young death-- either of the body or the soul or both. How unconscious it might be if you aren't just singing your guts out with feeling. And even if you are. 


I think about this all the time. But especially on days like today. Do what makes your heart strong. Do what makes you invincible. Do the thing that no one can ever take away from you. Drugs are never that. It's not a coincidence that cocaine weakens your heart. Alcohol is never that. It's not a coincidence that alcohol breaks down your liver-- the organ that filters out toxins. And they lose potency over time. Moments like this, however, do not. They will always make you feel. 

Just listen to this. RIP, Whitney. 

My Man Chris Mann on the Voice

So, listen: I don't quite understand what different spin on a singing show The Voice is, considering I've been out of the country since it began. I get that there are teams and things. Do you still vote? Because, if you do-- and I can say this with certainty, even without seeing any of the other contestants-- that you should vote for Chris Mann. Can I just take this time to talk about my pal Chris Mann some more?


He did this amazing number with the Rosie's Kids and my Steven a few years back. I remember sitting in the audience with my friend Bernardo and let's just say we had both hit the free wine beforehand a little too hard and we were both angling for a free moment to duck out to the restrooms. But I forgot all about that when Chris and those kids sang. And I've been tooting his horn ever since. ("Falling Awake" is still one of my favorite songs ever. Too bad those bitches at Sony wouldn't let you keep it.)


He is gracious. He is funny. He has a sense of humor about himself. And he is one serious example of how this business we call show will yo-yo your ass around for years. A lot of people deserve a lot of things in this biz, but Chris Mann really really deserves any nice thing he gets and a "beautiful life." 


I was nodding my head with pride when he said, "For years I've been trying to shrink my voice down to fit... but I decided for this show that I was going to sing like myself." Here's to never, ever shrinking your voice down to fit anyone's idea of what you should be. Preach.


You go, Chris Mann. I am a MannFan 'til the end and rooting for you from across the pond. 

Always takes so much longer

And it always feels so much harder than I thought that it would be

Oh its eternity 

When I stopped and looked inside and then I searched I just might find 

that I really have it all

Oh I really have it all 

Saturday Night Live Lovin' Friday Links

Next week, I'll launch my annual Valentine's Day Crush list, but for now, I'm rolling you into this weekend and looking back over the productive week that was. Good times. Things are happening. I move in less than three weeks. Holy Mutha. Take me to the links. 


- Um...THIS. Tigs in a hula skirt with her tongue out? Too much.
- These water color mirrors from Petite Friture are gorgeous.
- Funny...and true
- Rasputin was my neighbor?
- Ugh. 
- Red Velvet Hot Chocolate Recipe. Yum. 
- Grub Street NY picks your Valentine's Day Cocktails
- Some interesting thoughts on the current state of Liz Lemon
- I LOVE seeing my friend's book everywhere. You should buy it.
- A new Domino Issue/Book! Though I really wish they'd stop taunting us with headlines like "Domino is back! Sort of." I don't like reliving that pain of Fall '08 when we learned the mag was going under.
- And finally, I just really miss SNL. Here's the Downton Abbey as if it were on Spike TV Sketch. (Scroll down)
(Since I'm at it, if you'e never seen the PlasticVille Sketch, you must watch it now.)
- Actually, ACTUALLY, there is an entire website devoted to JT on SNL. Worthy.

The Best Way to Find Out if You Can Trust Somebody ... is to Trust Them.

Not even my hatred of Nicole Kidman seems to be able to quell my love of asshole man-writers and their stories-- especially as-told by the good folks at HBO. I question many things about Hemingway & Gellhorn: the title, the casting of both the leads, (don't get me wrong, I lovvvve Clive Owen, but not sure about him as Hemingway. I suppose I could be converted...) and the extended trailer appears to give away the entire film. Is that why HBO had it taken down?


Or was it the tone problem? From the trailer, it's hard to pin down. I love couples who drink like fish, share a passion and call each other by their last names too... but what is this movie? Quirky, zany, ditzy?.... or melodrama? (all of these being Kidman's familiar territory). There's a Spanish Civil War, Chinese Communism and WWII to contend with, and yet Kidman's greatest feat here seems to be her ability to drop her voice an octave. If she could get an Oscar for wearing a prosthetic nose, just think what will happen now!


Aside from that, it appears to be fairly well-written (by Jerry Stahl and Barbara Turner, mother of Jennifer Jason Leigh) and it walks right on that line I'm wearing out all day every day about the nature of these competitive artistic relationships. I love it. The more people keep doing these, the more it forces me to write it fresher. Bring it on. 


Anyhow, HBO rarely just genuinely drops the ball. So I'm going to go into this with a positive attitude. I mean, they even appear to be using some of Hemingway's best one- liners including my favorite, "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them." So relevant. All the time. 

It's the Amateurs Who Make it Tough for Professionals

My dear pal Sophie always knows the right thing to say. She always has the right thing ready for you. Here is an excellent example. Yesterday, she sent me this Harlan Ellison gem from the film "Dreams With Sharp Teeth" and it warmed the little part of my heart reserved especially for ranting. If you've known me long enough, I'm sure you've experienced a moment-- probably, I was a passenger in your car-- where I went on some joke-filled, yet utterly serious rant along these same lines. 


And while the issue is-- always, inevitably-- more nuanced than any three minute rant could do justice to, and I've been in many situations myself where I felt the only option was to give my skills away for free, I have to say I agree with Harlan wholeheartedly. It's a bind I wish fewer art-type folks were in, less often. But I keep going back to his statement, "it's the amateurs who make it tough for the professionals." So the amateurs write the thing, the thing is not well done, and then-- since this amateur work isn't blowing anyone away-- as a society, we think writers aren't vital. They aren't essential. It's a bad cycle. 


As a side note, I don't know that I'd ever hope to see this in, say, my own Wikipedia entry, but you've got to hand it to a guy who can get a whole section of his bio labeled "Controversies, Temperment" devoted to his reputation for being abrasive and argumentative. Or, OR! having the balls to put on your own dust jacket, "possibly the most contentious person on Earth."


In any case, he raises some serious issues. Ones we should be talking about all the time. I'm glad things like PayTheWriter.org exist, even if I don't always agree with everything. I do agree with the fundamental though: PAY THE WRITER!

A Tale of Two Apples

There is perhaps only one nerd-place more beautiful than the Paris Opera Apple store. And that is the new Apple store in Grand Central Station. Grand Central is magical anyhow. The constellations on the duck-egg-blue sky, the opal clock in the center, the Tiffany glass. (Did you know that for just a cool 10K, you can get married in the Vanderbilt Hall section of the station?) And now you can buy all the best that Apple has to offer. 


Both of these stores glow from that deeply satisfying juxtaposition of the past and the future; the mashup of intricacy and simplicity of design. Maybe I have a weird addiction. I get a serious fix from stuff like this. Not to forget about the UK, London's Regent Street store ain't so shabby either. All this is only to support my old statement that I'd let them design my whole life if they wanted. 


Now, if only we could get Apple and all the rest of the tech companies to manufacture all this ethically... beauty and ethics...an even better juxtaposition. 

Paris store photo from here. 

Four Days of Fabulous February

Back from snowy London-- my body is a little worse for wear after taking several spills on slippery hills in Hampstead, but my spirits are soaring. It's awesome when you can start to see your new life taking shape and on each of my scouting expeditions so far, I feel like I can see it more and more. Look at this beautiful city! For every disappointment, there's another friend or chance waiting as a reminder of how awesome it feels to make decisions are be true to yourself. 


From Hampstead Heath to Southbank, and even in crappy eastjet Hotels in Earls Court, there's something to love in every neighborhood. Even Edinburgh is a bit brighter today. Thanks to everyone who made this weekend fab. I'm going back to resting my bruised left side and prepping for the next big adventure. 

Sunday Chill Out

Here is some chilled out music from San Francisco based Tycho for a chilled out Sunday. For those of you Little Dragon lovers, he's a collaborator. I am literally very very chilly. It's snowing. 

Just A Reminder...

Hope that wherever you are, you're having an amazing Saturday. 

Friday Links

- Some thought-provoking commentary on the feministiness of Jezebel & Hairpin
- Time Warner launches Ryan Gosling On Demand for Valentine's Day. 
- Oh, Franzy. Franzen thinks ebooks are ruining society. I mean, I see his point about our obsession with immediacy, but then again, I've also read Freedom four times on my kindle, so.... I sort of think people who require books so they can devour them immediately is maybe... a good thing??
- Kind of a cool theatre/playwright website
- This continues to be hilarious. Stewart + Colbert still = heaven
- My dear pal Andrew Keenan-Bolger's show Submissions Only (on BroadwayWorld.com) is lowbrow and brilliant on NYMag's The Approval Matrix!
- And... This:

Just Shoot Me (Peter)

Nothing makes me happier than stories of people who taught themselves how to do something and turns out, they're ridiculously good at it. One such story is that of Pete-- amazing musician and participant in the greatest subway-friending-story of all time. (A modified version of this incident recently made it into my novel, FYI, Pete & Suz.) 


Pete got himself a bitchin' Canon and taught himself how to be awesome. He's who taught me all about HDR Pro and how to use my own camera, for that matter. He also took some seriously cool photos of my show husband, Steven. (I mean just LOOK at the one above with Steven playing the piano with his eyes closed. I die.)


I know all us Showbiz folks have about a million options for truly first-rate photography, but I really think Pete is doing something a little different than most folks. 


Now he's having a shoot special, so listen up, NYC'ers. A four-hour location shoot and editing for just $300. Hit him up at shootmepeter@gmail.com or 661-904-2552. He's the bestest. He'll make you laugh. And, in fact, tell him I told you to tell him to sing you a song. Serenaded and Shot-- talk about pampering. 


Luckily for me, I'm hoping to catch him in a European locale. So Euro-friends, if you need some pics, you let me know and I'll pass it along for when he's in Germany and hopefully the UK too! I'm off to London this morning. Check ya' later!

Truth: I Conceal My Fear in Loudness

One of the main characters in my novel is violently brilliant, but thwarted dancer. And since I'm one of the world's klutziest people, even my vocabulary with the physicality of dance is somewhat lacking. Thus, Jake recommended I read a book I'd been meaning to  get around to for ages: Colum McCann's Dancer. 


SO many things. The Russia. The Margot Fonteyn. The story of the beautiful, if slightly (okay, lotsly) cruel man. McCann's novelized biography of precision-master Rudolf Nureyev has a lot going for it. And that's even before we look at its form. A novelized biography. So close to the ideas I'm looking at for my phd re: roman a clef and "non-fiction novels" a la Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. 


And using one artform to discuss another. I haven't always loved the book, (I'd have liked more separation between narrators. I always do. Sigh. And actually, I enjoyed the impressionistic sections in Rudi's own voice perhaps best anyhow) but it's been well worth the read. Well worth looking at Rudik again. There's a lot to be learned from his drive. He considered almost everything that wasn't dancing a waste of time. It's always something I'm weighing. Balance vs. Greatness. Where they intersect. 

A First Aid Kit for Nostalgia

Somewhat inexplicably, I get nostalgic for sections of my childhood. I'm, of course, very selective about which pieces to be nostalgic about... I suppose that's part of the nature of nostalgia in the first place. 


You never remember all of it; the way it really was. You only remember the blue bug convertibles and the dusty amps and the way a steel guitar can echo beyond the tent, and through the coves at Disneyland Ranch while you dance with wind-blown hair on the waterfront, on a make-shift parque dance floor. The way it was otherworldly, like your memories themselves. Certainly not from any real world you lived in then. 


But still, you remember them. The summers at your grandparents beach house. The mosquitoes and the loneliness, but the kind you relished. You're nostalgic for that. And even for your mom, when she'd play Emmylou Harris and sing along through her cloud of smoke. 

Check out First Aid Kit's new album, The Lion's Roar You'll never believe they're Swedish

The Top Ten Reasons Why I'm Moving to London

After much consideration, imagining, and wide-net-casting, I can officially announce to you all that as of March 1, I'll be a resident of London. You may have seen this coming... I've been spending a lot of time there and lamenting the lack of theatre in my life. While there's no chance this blog will start looking something more like Fergie & Finsbury Park (After all, I'll still be a student at St Andrews) there will probably be more London-y stuff. In fact, there will probably be more first-hand cultural stuff a la when I lived in NYC. Just one of the many reasons for my decision. Which I present to you now in no particular order:


10. Events. Just random old events, gigs, openings, showings, etc. The kind of low-maintenance but high-fun weeknight and free-ish activities that formed the basis of my social life in the early days of NYC thanks to Aly. I want more of that.


9. The possibilities. Because everything is moving all the time, it has the kinetic quality that something might happen all the time. Any time. Around every corner and waiting there for you on the other side of each decision you make. I want to wake up every morning excited that something might happen to me today. 


8. I'm rested enough. Obviously, when I moved to Scotland, one of the goals was to recuperate my burnt-out soul. When I visited Sophie in London this time last year even, London kind of gave me an anxiety attack. I wasn't ready for the city again. But I've had a year and half of good sleep and productivity and practically no one talking shit on the internet. 


7. Sunshine. I used to sort of chuckle at Brits who said the weather was SO much better down South. As if two degrees really made a difference. I told them that was cute, but for GOOD weather, they were going to need to go to San Diego. That's where they have the nice weather. But turns out, there's jusssst enough more sunshine to make me want to live life...instead of snuggle under all my covers in five cardigans. I'm looking forward to regaining feeling in my toes. Also, I hear they have Summer there. 


6. Anonymity! I've never been a very private person, but I'm used to a group of people who are pretty much too busy and only get to see you every two or three weeks to be up in your business. Everybody's moving, so no one is looking at you. You have no painful neighbors and the city is diverse enough for people not to copy you. 


5. Max me out! I actually function better on all 8 cylinders. I think a lot of people do. When there's no time to waste, you don't waste time. And free time is easier to save when you don't have much of it. Bring on full-time employment AND a full-time PhD. No seriously, BRING IT.


4. A fully rounded life. While my Scotland friends are some of the best friends I've ever ever had, I feel like they were a gift from the Abby Ruffridge facebook gods. They all came from a particular chapter in my life. In London, I have friends from all different chapters in my life: high school, college, NYC. I'm happy to get to spend time with them. And make new friends too. Duh. 


3. Easy. It's actually just as easy to do a phd from London as Edinburgh. If you're away, you're away. One place is as good as any. I've been writing around a job all my adult life. Not to mention, flying to the US out of London is easier. 


2. City Love. While I am actually finding more and more things about London that do remind me of New York, the thing that has allowed me to truly think about living there was coming to love London as its own city and not an NYC substitute. Nothing can ever be NYC. Not for what it is to itself, to the world, or its crown-jewel status in my life. But London can be London in its own right. A place I arrived at as an adult and not a wide-eyed kid. And let's just say I'm really looking forward to it. 


1. The Theatre calls me. You know it and I know it. There was no way I was going to be able to separate myself from the theatre for five years. It was never going to be possible. Putting up shows is in my blood. I'd consider film and television too. But I will never be able to leave the theatre. I want to be in a rehearsal room so bad, I'm willing to pack up my life for the third time in two years. I want to do things and make things that make people feel. That make me feel. There are songs that I've never, ever been able to listen to without crying. I want to make some of those. I want to hear more of those. I want to have partners in crime. I want to get out of my own head and be a part of something bigger than myself, the way theatre always seems to make you feel. So stop the train, I want to get back on. Come see me in London, you guys!

A Gift from Emily Skinner (and Henry Miller)

...And of course Theresa Flanagan

Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art

A little bit Edinburgh, a little bit Broadway. Even though this is perhaps the anti-motto of Broadway. It really is a bit breathtaking to come upon it at sunset, just perched there in front of Gallery Two. (For the record, Gallery One says EVERYTHING IS  GOING TO BE ALRIGHT in bright blue neon across the front of the building...for balance, I suppose.) Hope your Saturday is bright and full of ideas.