Neil de Grasse Tyson at Rice's 100th Commencement

This past week, Rice graduated it's 100th class,  wrapping up a year's worth of Centennial celebrations. And Rice couldn't ask for a more fitting speaker to bring it all home than astro-physicist badass, Neil de Grasse Tyson. Not only did his wife graduate from Rice (Baker!) but he embodies Rice's marriage to NASA and the American spirit of exploration, commitment to the future, and to the great unknown. 

I don't feel like I live in that America. But I'm glad Tyson is around to remind us to keep pursuing the unknown, the spirit of innovation, of advancing, and of defining the universe-- and thus, the universal. That our pursuit of these things is tied to so many other important aspects of our perspective.

I often miss my time at Rice, and what it represents. But this was one of the most stinging. 

Congrats, class of 2013!

Get Up Friday Links

Hard to say what takes the cake this week for scariest thing. Walking out to find my car vandalized yesterday was definitely up there. Slashed tires, bent antenna, on my way to an important meeting-- I felt pretty exposed. But all around, I'd say this week has been one of strange, confusing reality checks on all fronts. Well, I'm alive still. And have an adorable puppy to cuddle with at least for a few days.

And this morning I woke up to an email from one of my favorite friends and young performers in the UK who needed some encouragement. Giving that encouragement to others is the fastest way to encourage myself. Believing in the abilities of others is the fastest way to remember how to believe in myself.

Your links:
- Ageless, Timeless, Forever: Paul Rudd.
- Interesting. Diamonds are bullshit.
- Oh, how good people are at misperceiving.
- The hottest hunks of Broadway.
- THIS.
- Yay, Cronin. 
- If guns in movies were replaced with thumbs up.
- 50 most perfectly timed photos.
- How to be like Madeleine.
- More forgotten places.

Finally, some songs for your weekend. Get up. Let's dance. 
- Jesse Ware
- Robin Thicke + TI + Pharrell. 

Ryann's Life Coaching Service

You too can experience the joy of this satisfied customer. And for a limited time, only $49.95 per session! Just paypal me the money. I may have no idea what I'm doing with my life, but I can sure as shit tell you what to do with yours. Here's me warning Spellman he better not go get a soda at In-n- Out. We are revolutionizing up in here. 

Friday Fear & Loathing in LV & NYC Links

Finally feeling like I'm back in the NYC groove a bit. Probably because I'm working. And busy. I'm already laughing because I bet by the time I feel like I'm truly back up and running here, it will be time to head to California. Oh, life. You make me laugh. The world is just plain crazy. 

- You might have heard about the Prince Harry naked pictures. It's all kind of sad and invasive, but I do feel slightly proud that if he was going to get caught in that position, that it would go down in my home town. 

Speaking of kind of cringey things that happen in America...
- Americans throw away 40% of their food everyday. Ughhhh. 
- Ha! The Frank Ocean guide to affordable classics.
- A case for critics... aw, I dunno, man...
- Meeting for coffee vs. meeting for a drink. Personally, I'm up for both and alternate between uppers and downers all day long! 
- More writing tips from famous writers. Can you really ever have enough?
- Normalize: the new app that to un-romanticize your instagrams. Shit.
- From the McC collection of awesome links: Be Less Crazy About Bad Boyfriends
- This was my favorite commentary on the whole "legitimate rape" fiasco.
- Speaking of which, look at these laws. This will blow your mind. 
- The Problem With Men Explaining Things. So So So So True. I can name you 3 boyfriends just right off the top of my head who've patronized me in this manner. Let's not even get into bosses.

- And finally this. This is the funniest truest thing I've read in a long time. 

I Don't Have a Choice, But I Still Choose You

Some songs I simply consider a masterclass in lyrics. It's almost never for an obvious reason. And with me, it's often for this strangely tangible reason that they make an unknown known. They invent a terminology (not the specific [or any] rhetorical device... Taylor... but the actual lyric) previously non-existent that gives us a new way of expressing the emotion of that experience. 


I've heard some folks just refer to it as metaphor-- and that's not untrue, but that's simplifying it-- as far as I'm concerned. It might be that. But it might be something more than that. Or something less than that. It might be use of paradox. Or just a contradicting mind, amplified with a snare drum and musical build that gives you everything you need to know. At the end of the day, it means: I have no idea what that means, except that I know exactly what that means.


The Civil Wars' "Poison & Wine" is one of the best examples of I can think of for this principle. And also for why, as a lyricist, I get hung up on particles. Why I meant and instead of but, that instead of when, etc etc. There's a difference. 


It's also one of the more apt vehicles I can think of to begin to discuss my relationship with men and love. I don't really understand men. Never. Have. At least when it comes to men and me. I've never been able to figure out from moment to moment what it is they want from me. And when I think about the connections that have really influenced me, this song is a good starting place. That slice between the rational, the instinct, and the emotional core of what you feel in spite of the rational,  the instinctual, and the circumstantial. 

I don't love you 

and I always will

I don't love you

but I always will

I always will

The difference between and and but. The space between what you know and what you feel, still, anyhow. The disconnect between the evidence and the emotion. It's not right, and yet,  you're still probably never going to get it out of your system. 


This song is effortless. And still manages to move the mountain. And in one deft move, I don't have a choice, but I still choose you. Mmm, that's what real love will always be to me, folks. 

The Self-Illuminated Links

Rain has returned to London and looks to stay for the next week or so. Meanwhile, I am trying to spend as much time with all the people who mean the most to me here in the UK before my departure. During each interaction, I think about opportunity costs a lot. I always have since the day my senior year economics professor, Mr. Swallow, introduced them onto my radar. I remember listening to him and nodding involuntarily. Yes. That was the moment I knew my enemy had a name. 


Because I sometimes have a slightly ridiculous tendency to think the rules don't apply to me, I've spent a lot of time in my life trying to circumvent these opportunity costs: rarely accepting my own limitations and ability to be in more than one place at one time. Not just in my own life, but for those I care about too. The best circumvention I've ever seen is skype. It gives me hope to keep trying to hedge these opportunity costs. I feel better when I try. 


Have a great weekend. Here are your links. 


- PS, I love that on the wiki page for Opp Costs, See Also: Have One's Cake and Eat it Too
- (And then it's equivalent in each culture/language. Excellent.)
- Here's a pre-skype way to access NYC from London. A telescope!
- American kids are spoiled. You don't say. 
- I hate quitting! Ugh! What if I pick that old phd up here?-- I mean, it's an actual job there. 


- Gordon and I are seeing Democracy tonight at the Old Vic. Is there a new Jimmy Carter of ex boyfriends in the house?


-  I will not leave Europe without going to see where Keats died in Rome. Who wants to go with me in a whirlwind like 48 hour journey? Let's stay up all night and dance, lit up, through the streets of Rome. I'll get your ticket. I got sky miles. 


- I'm gonna miss this guy. I hope wherever I land, there's lots of poetry, still. 

- When I imagine what my new life is going to be like back in the US, it sounds like this. Please, please listen to this whole album. Thank you. 

Stubborn Love

For a while, it has seemed to me that with most people, their strengths are also their weaknesses. That old "the way you do one thing is the way you do everything" principle. The same traits we possess that make people love us, that make us good at what we do, are the ones that get us in trouble. Do you feel that's true about you? I know it's true with me. 

It poses a real conundrum because with traits like this, it's not as simple as just breaking yourself of a bad habit. You'd also be breaking yourself of a good habit. And be throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. 

For me, it's most especially two things and two things that-- laughably-- do not complement each other. I am both a teacher's pet, and a stubborn rebel. Being teacher's pet gets me into less trouble than being stubborn. But it also yields fewer rewards than being resilient and sticking to my guns; never quitting. 

I've been really stubborn with my family lately. These are also the same people I'd pretty much do anything to please. Annoyed at my own delayed ability to reconfigure the challenging puzzle I've laid out for myself, I've resented their advice, I've taken it all as the same message I end up telling myself: that I'm failing. I suppose somewhere lurking in my teacher's pet complex is the need to test it out.  If I can't get a 100% on the test, I'll try to flunk it with aplomb. To push people to absolute limit to see if I can get them to abandon me. 

The thing about developing sophisticated coping mechanisms and handling difficult situations well as a child is that then your family cements that as who you will always be. But sometimes, the things that made you good at getting out of a dangerous situation or making the best out of that situation when you were ten, will backfire in your ability to read situations at age thirty. So you recalibrate, adjusting the levels on the dial of these traits. 

I've been listening to a lot of The Lumineers lately. I'd recommend you do the same. 

I can't be told ah ah it can't be done

I don't know where I belong. I don't know where I went wrong. But I can write a song.

Drunk Texts From Famous (hermit) Writers

Basically, I can relate to this. You went out? Check out all of the funnies from Jessie Gaynor via The Paris Review. 


What can I say about these days? That I am both listless and restless. That I am losing an ongoing argument with the unfocused disquiet of my mind. I pace. I run. I do cardio. I am fighting it out to the tune of extremely emotional, mathematically formulaic pop music. It's a shadow box. I cannot burn off the energy I have and I cannot focus it into anything productive for longer than... say, 15 minutes?  


Are our only choices burn out or boredom? Why is balance so elusive? Years of practicing Buddhism and still the slightest nudge can knock it all off the shelf. All of my usual tricks are getting a system override. I don't want to do any of them. My own inner life is lacking inspiration. And momentum. I want to be in it. I want to send my energy in a direction away from myself. And preferably, without any digital or electronic aid. 


I think Emily would agree. And I'd like to think that if Emily Dickinson were alive today, she'd probably also get real crazy at  Broadway Bares. Let's live in our bodies and not our obnoxious minds. At the very least, I think she'd agree my pal Rachel Potter sang her face off on "We Found Love." 

Let's Wrap It Up, Jubilee

Due to a spot of illness (hey, at least it's not a bladder infection like Prince Philip. I love that they keep having to say that in all the press coverage.) I've been sidelined from my Jubilee enthusiasm to my couch today. So I'm watching all the pomp and circumstance on a high def television. In one sense, I love that two longest reigning monarchs of Great Britain have been women. On the other hand, as I've gone about the city and been looking at some of the coverage, I can't help but notice a few things.

1. How bored everyone looks. Especially the Queen herself. But everyone, really. The Queen definitely looks the most bored-- like completely zoned out during the toast to her-- followed closely in boredom by Harry. 

2. They can't show the Queen eating, but they're giving us a complete rundown of what literally everyone is eating and drinking and where said food came from. The tee-totalers will have Apple Juice from Sandringham. The vegetarians will have this, the gluten intolerant will have this, etc etc. Time-filling in event coverage is force-fed with inane minutia no matter where you go and what the event is. 

3. I love that the coverage swings between commentary from ultimate man of pretension, David Starkey (who takes the pronunciation of the word "year" past just your typical "gap yah" "yah" to a full-on yuhhhhhhh) and atonal drags queens singing Kylie Minogue in the rain in Anglesey. This. Is. Britain, ladies and gentlemen. 

4. MERCH! I think the entire point of this event is to sell merch. Looks like it's working. The Guardian estimates 823 million pounds in merch sales for this event. I mean, listen, I'm all about merch, but I found it rather fascinating. If I was purchasing any mementos, I think I'd splurge on this. 

5. THIS.

6. The color coronation footage from 1953 is genuinely gorgeous. Nothing dazzles the eye like those primary colors and jewel tones. If you haven't seen it, check it out. I'm guessing the remastered footage will be up on youtube soon. In the meantime, here is what's already available. 

The Right & The Wrong Kind of Drama

At some point last year, one of my masters professors said something so startlingly accurate about the writing process that it actually knocked the wind out of me. And for the first time, I began to see a big picture about my real life relationships in the mix with the made-up relationships I write about all day long. 


She said this: "Have you noticed... that when the work isn't going well.... when there isn't the right kind of drama on the page...that you create the wrong kind of drama off the page?"


And, obviously, my answer was YES. 


When I am cranking out the kind of material I want, when that shit is flowing like I like, I do not start shit in my own life. When things are not going well at my desk (probably because I am eternally uncomfortable mediocrity. Also with prolonged periods of uncertainty) I make trouble in other areas of my life. If things are going well, I question them and undo a good thing. If something is on the edge, I just go ahead and push it over. 


This is often why when I'm really on deadline, I go of the grid and sequester myself. I try to cut off contact with my real life so I don't ruin it.  


But then... I can't do that forever, right? I bet my hypothetical future children (not to mention the hypothetical future child services) would not appreciate my emotional or physical disappearance for three weeks. (or maybe more!) What to do!? Does anyone have the answers to these questions? Is there any answer that's right for more than the person who's figured it out for his or herself. Probably not. But we keep on asking. 

It's a Metaphor

Before I moved to New York to work in theatre, I used to give long deconstructions of this song to people who didn't much care to listen. Since then, I haven't trotted it back out much, but I maintain my ardency about its near perfection as a musical satire number. 


Because as much of a spoof as it is, as silly as it is, it never lets go of the nugget of idea at its center. A sincere heart surrounded by laughs. Which is what all the best satire has going for it. A clown heart. 


Well, and Sara Ramirez. That tone. She's another really expert interpreter of songs. I wish she'd come back to musicals. Nothing she's done on telly can compare as far I'm concerned. (Except You've Got Mail. Let's not forget that. That was a genius 1.5 minute performance. "Happy Thanksgiving Back.")


And, because it's me and I'm a nerd, when the road seems long and tedious, I still listen to this song. It reminds me to laugh and not take it too seriously. But also that creating the exact life you want for life is serious as a heart attack. There's nothing more important than that. If you can keep that in mind, you've already won.  And that's your grail. That's your grail. 

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

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. 

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?

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!

John Burnside, On a Roll - TS Eliot Prize

Add this TS Eliot Prize to his Forward Prize just a few months ago, and I'm wondering if Burnsy might almost be too cool for me anymore. Of course, I'm kidding. JB is one of the most casual, supportive people I know. And even when others have not been on board with my writing plans, JB has always unabashedly had my back. 


So in these bleak winter days of boredom and attempted productivity, the news of his win is a real gift. Congrats and Thanks for the inspiration, JB! Bless you and your creative switch-hitting, and your ability to multi-task to the infinite. Please send a little bit of that magic my way as I prepare a bit of plate-spinning myself.


And finally, RE: the "controversy" surrounding the current state of the TS Eliot Prize. I agree wholeheartedly with Gillian Clarke. The arts most flourished when artists had the freedom and security to create that came from wealthy patron families. The Medicis, for example, were into all kinds of shit. A lot of it was dirty. But they understood that their responsibility was the use their money to enrich the world in some way-- not just hoard it all as profit. When corporations fund the arts, to me, that's just scale balancing. That's what they SHOULD be doing with all that money. Funding something soul-enriching. 


Buy Black Cat Bone here. And further reading. 

Dangerous Women?

Because it's not living unless you're over-committed, I've decided that now (well,  I started over Christmas) is the time to start the dating book I've been formulating for years. Those who know me know about this book of anecdotes and completely unscientific theories. 


Recently, a wise, staunch member of Britain's old-guard said at a lunch that women never told anecdotes. I held my tongue for the moment and kept my anecdotes for the book. 


The title, which I unfortunately cannot reveal in any public format, like most of the chapter headings, is designed to be a bit inflammatory. Nevertheless, even the men I've spoken to about these eye-brow-raising quips admit that they sound true. Even if they aren't backed by any modern sociological method other than my own observations. 


I don't think there's anything real to gain from any dating book, scientific or otherwise, save for the camaraderie and amusement. I think entertainment is measure of success with this. Being true is a secondary or irrelevant standard to feeling true. 


So anyhow, I've been checking up on other humor books that might inspire me or provide any formatting insights. A friend sent me an article that mentioned this book, Dangerous Women. The reviews seem to be all over the place, and I'm often reticent of books that sound like some other city's version of Sex and The. But I've decided to check it out anyhow. I've been feeling very wanderlusty lately anyhow, so I don't mind trying on some ideas of new lives for size. 


I couldn't decide what to post today because I feel like there's nothing I can talk about today that didn't leave me feeling like I was being really coy with you all. So, sorry. But basically, you can expect a couple of big announcements about a couple of facets of my life really soon. Happy Monday. 

First Friday of 2012 Links

Since I've basically been away from my computer for the last week, it was tough to assemble a full roster of Friday links for you guys. Not to mention, 2012 has also already been a full-on addressing of problems and miscommunications gauntlet. Boom. Elvis would be proud and so would my hypothetical therapist because business is being taken care of on all fronts. Nevertheless, here is what's going on around the interwebs. (Mostly on NYMag....okay.)


- Awesome Portlandia Season 2 interview
- Dave Eggers puts short story on shower curtain
- The ghost signs of New York
- Fun Jennifer Saunders interview
- Figment, a cool website for young fiction writers (more on this later)
- The interns at NPR love Milo Greene
- The amazing Andy Greenwald on HBO's comedy problem

- Finally, I was really excited about SMASH, the new show about the making of a Broadway musical. It's hired a lot of my pals and hopefully will raise the profile of what I do for a living. Sad was I to learn that Debra Messing, playing the lyricist (ugh) has joined the cheating ranks of her co-star Christian Borle, and has been sleeping with my friend's husband. (Read Comment 7.) Don't get me wrong, I think he's filthy, too. Stop it with the cheating, people. STOP. IT!

Top 11 of '11 - Books

Saving the books category for last just feels right considering the place of honor they occupy in my life. Though, this is the first year that I'm including any non-fiction. I'm pretty proud of myself for expanding into non-fiction-- not that I don't read a lot of it-- I do. It's just that non-fiction never seems as good to me as fiction. For fairly obvious reasons. I'm not going to give myself too much credit though, because the only two that I read and loved that actually came out this year are humor books by some heroines of mine. (Okay and a shout out to someone we lost this year.) (Other amazing non-fiction I read this year, but didn't come out this year include AL Kennedy's On Bullfighting & Mary Karr's Lit.) But, without further ado, here are my top 11 books of the year. 


11. Arguably. Essays
RIP, Hitch. You will be missed. 


10. Swamplandia!
I tried to avoid Karen Russell's book and found that I could not. I'm the only one allowed to put exclamation marks in titles, right? Wrong. Honestly, the book is full of eccentricities and I'm not even sure how to describe it. Only that I think  you should read it. 


9. Bossypants
One of my favorite things about Tina Fey's book is that she reads it herself in the audio book version, so naturally, that's the version I got. Thanks, too, Tina for having this come out on my birthday. That was sweet of you.  I keep going back to how bad I feel for Brits who didn't get to grow up with Saturday Night Live. This just warmed my heart. Though Brits still won't be able to watch. Sigh. 




8. The Stranger's Child
Alan Hollinghurst taught me a thing or three about how to pace a historical telling that spans 60 years or so, all through interludes at English country houses. I don't know that I'll ever slow my pace to his speed, but it was nice reminder to slow the eff down. A great story, and a lovely portrait of the way time acts on us. Click here for more. 


7. The Art of Fielding
Chad Harbach's first novel is on just about everybody's top list and for good reason. Despite an over-arching sports metaphor, which normally I'd sort of loathe, I loved the book for its pith and precision. And I suppose if one must use a sports metaphor, at least he used baseball. 


6. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)
Mindy Kaling is the best. I'm putting her ahead of Tina Fey just because people are always comparing the two...sort of for no reason...isn't it possible for more than one woman to be extremely funny? In completely different ways? Her best friend rights and responsibilities is amazing. And I dedicate them to Emily Vi. 


5. 1Q84
Haruki Murakami, you outdo yourself again. How can you make the decline of humanity so appealing and humorous? I have such a soft-spot for Japanese writers. I love your play on the title, which as a Japanese speaker, I smiled immediately about. Ichi Kyuu Hachi Yon. Nine in Japanese is kyuu. The characters, the sense of place, it was perfect. (Long, but perfect.)


4. The Marriage Plot
This isn't Jeffrey Eugenides' best. And I still think he's kind of eye-roll inducingly pretentious (I  mean, people are always going on about my Franzy being a dick! Just listen to Eugenides!) but nevertheless, I was SO excited to read this. And I enjoyed every minute of it. I don't care how many times he says Leonard isn't DFW... the dude clearly is. For more, read this & this. 


3. There But For The
It was an honor to be given this book by the amazing Ali Smith herself the day after graduation. I loved the idea of a stranger locking himself in someone's spare room. The idea of strangers in general. How known any of us are to each other and to ourselves. And the characters are so expertly drawn, I jammed through this book like lightning. For more. 


2. The Pale King
I think it says something about a writer, namely, this one: David Foster Wallace, that his unfinished novel is better than most I've read. And obviously ambitious. A novel about the tedium of life (set in the IRS) that itself was not tedious? I wish he'd finished it. He hadn't quite succeeded or completed the task. But bless him for trying. For more. 


1. The Submission
Some called it a "rare and dangerous feat" and I agree. Quite simply, I was blown away by both the simplicities and honest complexities in Amy Waldman's book. I empathized with every character. I felt myself as a New Yorker in the central dilemma. And I don't think America or New York is anywhere near done dealing with 9/11, it memorial place in our city or our relationship with Islam. For more.