"JOHN KERRY IS A DOUCHE BAG, BUT I'M VOTING FOR HIM ANYWAY," SAYS EVERY CONCERNED CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES.
And now, a website!
Monday, April 26, 2004
Thursday, April 22, 2004
NOT ONLY DOES THIS CONSTITUTE AS THE SADDEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN, BUT IT STARS MADONNA.
Paulo? What are you doing?!
Paulo? What are you doing?!
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Monday, April 19, 2004
Sunday, April 18, 2004
GUESS HOW MUCH OF THIS LETTER IS DEVOTED AS AN AP LANGUAGE ESSAY, AND HOW MUCH IS TRULY SENTIMENTAL.
What a strange and interesting journey it has been! I simply cannot believe that tonight is the finale of nearly three months of exhausting, grueling, sometimes painful work. Two evenings ago, the curtain opened, and we all witnessed what I believe to be the most thrilling and terrifying portion of live theatre: the culmination, the opening, the chance for the world to experience that which you’ve devoted all heart and energy towards. And to some degree, their reaction can either lift up or entirely destroy the passion and perseverance that has gone into a show’s production. Luckily, none of us had to worry about that.
I feel blessed that your first show at Lyman became one of such community, such remarkable teamwork. I hope you feel those same sentiments; if not, I hope you can still walk away from this evening feeling connected to something, or at least accomplished in your magnificent work. But you must believe me when I say I have never been placed on a collaborative effort such as this. I know that our experiences have differed in the past few weeks with my transition into the ghastly “Booth of Death,” but the months I’ve shared with you and the other members of our crew were both exciting and entertaining. We’ve laughed together over subjects that hardly deserve laughter; yet still, we’ve found ourselves wrapped up in moments of difficult emotion, whether they were validated or not. We have become a unit, a moving, breathing machine that reacts when reaction is necessary and thrives in its work. I could not have asked for a better experience.
To work with you has been a great pleasure, and I truly mean that. You have been a column of support for the entire crew, and I cannot possibly reiterate what your expertise has meant to those of us working with you day in and day out. To make the gigantic and often horrific leap from middle to high school is difficult enough: to immerse yourself in hectic schedules and demanding routines, all in the midst of classes and outside obligations, is a terrific struggle. I commend you for persevering in and achieving all that you do.
To know you, however, has been the greatest gift I could have asked for. You have an unceasing amount of courage and excitement that fills the atmosphere of everywhere you step. I have enjoyed the small time we’ve shared together more than you could possibly imagine, and the forthcoming gap between productions will prove a nice break, but a disheartening separation from you, and the entire cast and crew that I have come to love so dearly. I truly thank you for the time we’ve been sent together, and I could not have been blessed with a greater friend and colleague than you.
To reiterate my gratitude (And, hell, just for fun), you’ll find that this little gift bag contains some of the things that I love and enjoy the most. The first and far most important is, of course, chocolate. Dark chocolate, at that. It’s one of the few candies that I rarely part myself from, and I think they are treats well deserving of your taste buds. Enjoy, and hide them from everyone else. The second is a little more heartfelt. When I traveled to State competition this year, I found myself walking through boutiques of Thespian apparel, key chains, necklaces, and overall, gaudy, inexpensive trinkets. None of them appealed to me, and so I continued onto some of the local, Tampa “exclusive” stores. When I found this little creature, staring up at me, I immediately picked him off the shelf and took him to the register. After reaching my hotel room that evening, I realized that his arms were Velcro-ed together, and that he was, indeed, intended to act as one, big, giant hug. Tonight, I give him to you. It’s my way of saying, “I will always be here if you need me, and I’ll even be here if you don’t.” He’s my gift of an eternal hug. Use it wisely.
Two pages of glabboring crap.
How much better can it get?
What a strange and interesting journey it has been! I simply cannot believe that tonight is the finale of nearly three months of exhausting, grueling, sometimes painful work. Two evenings ago, the curtain opened, and we all witnessed what I believe to be the most thrilling and terrifying portion of live theatre: the culmination, the opening, the chance for the world to experience that which you’ve devoted all heart and energy towards. And to some degree, their reaction can either lift up or entirely destroy the passion and perseverance that has gone into a show’s production. Luckily, none of us had to worry about that.
I feel blessed that your first show at Lyman became one of such community, such remarkable teamwork. I hope you feel those same sentiments; if not, I hope you can still walk away from this evening feeling connected to something, or at least accomplished in your magnificent work. But you must believe me when I say I have never been placed on a collaborative effort such as this. I know that our experiences have differed in the past few weeks with my transition into the ghastly “Booth of Death,” but the months I’ve shared with you and the other members of our crew were both exciting and entertaining. We’ve laughed together over subjects that hardly deserve laughter; yet still, we’ve found ourselves wrapped up in moments of difficult emotion, whether they were validated or not. We have become a unit, a moving, breathing machine that reacts when reaction is necessary and thrives in its work. I could not have asked for a better experience.
To work with you has been a great pleasure, and I truly mean that. You have been a column of support for the entire crew, and I cannot possibly reiterate what your expertise has meant to those of us working with you day in and day out. To make the gigantic and often horrific leap from middle to high school is difficult enough: to immerse yourself in hectic schedules and demanding routines, all in the midst of classes and outside obligations, is a terrific struggle. I commend you for persevering in and achieving all that you do.
To know you, however, has been the greatest gift I could have asked for. You have an unceasing amount of courage and excitement that fills the atmosphere of everywhere you step. I have enjoyed the small time we’ve shared together more than you could possibly imagine, and the forthcoming gap between productions will prove a nice break, but a disheartening separation from you, and the entire cast and crew that I have come to love so dearly. I truly thank you for the time we’ve been sent together, and I could not have been blessed with a greater friend and colleague than you.
To reiterate my gratitude (And, hell, just for fun), you’ll find that this little gift bag contains some of the things that I love and enjoy the most. The first and far most important is, of course, chocolate. Dark chocolate, at that. It’s one of the few candies that I rarely part myself from, and I think they are treats well deserving of your taste buds. Enjoy, and hide them from everyone else. The second is a little more heartfelt. When I traveled to State competition this year, I found myself walking through boutiques of Thespian apparel, key chains, necklaces, and overall, gaudy, inexpensive trinkets. None of them appealed to me, and so I continued onto some of the local, Tampa “exclusive” stores. When I found this little creature, staring up at me, I immediately picked him off the shelf and took him to the register. After reaching my hotel room that evening, I realized that his arms were Velcro-ed together, and that he was, indeed, intended to act as one, big, giant hug. Tonight, I give him to you. It’s my way of saying, “I will always be here if you need me, and I’ll even be here if you don’t.” He’s my gift of an eternal hug. Use it wisely.
Two pages of glabboring crap.
How much better can it get?
Monday, April 12, 2004
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Thursday, April 08, 2004
THE REVEREND DERK SCHUDDE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THE 9/11 TRAGEDY.
At Winter Park's St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church, bathed in the light beaming in through stained-glass windows, about 200 worshippers gathered as the Rev. Derk Schudde reminded them that their faith would be tested during difficult, and often unexplainable, times.
Their job is to believe that God had a plan for each of them, no matter how mysterious: "Even when it's not easy; even when our doubts are greater than our trust; even when tragedies happen and people die and we don't know why God wasn't there to stop it," he said.
Thank you, Orlando Sentinel, for making my day. This is your shining moment.
At Winter Park's St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church, bathed in the light beaming in through stained-glass windows, about 200 worshippers gathered as the Rev. Derk Schudde reminded them that their faith would be tested during difficult, and often unexplainable, times.
Their job is to believe that God had a plan for each of them, no matter how mysterious: "Even when it's not easy; even when our doubts are greater than our trust; even when tragedies happen and people die and we don't know why God wasn't there to stop it," he said.
Thank you, Orlando Sentinel, for making my day. This is your shining moment.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
STARING CATATONIC OUT THE WINDOW.
I think that I'm immensely grateful to be back at home.
Not that State wasn't amazing.
I'm just too compulsively depressing to shudder back into the light, explaining in all its wonder, the glory of State.
I really need to get back on track. Alright. I'll jump through quickly on a day-by-day basis:
---WEDNESDAY: Lost Elis. Found Elis. Rode on the bus. Arrived. Unpacked. Watched a series of terrible one-acts. Went to the hotel. Changed. "Gussied ourselves up," if you will. Trudged back to the TPAC. Spotted Mr. Don Jones, Man Of The Century. Drooled over Michael J. Higgins and his grey tux. Perhaps that was just me. Trudged back to the hotel. Slept.
---THURSDAY: Woke up. Went back to sleep. Woke up. Dragged ourselves out to the Convention Center. I auditioned. I sucked. Watched events. Went back to the hotel. Changed. Ran to the new "Upstairs Dining" at the TPAC curtsey of Don Jones. Don Jones bussed our tables. Leaped into "Nine Armenians!" Skipped (and jaywalked) to the Tampa Theatre for "The Effects of Gamma Rays on Man On The Moon Marigolds." Jaywalked back to the hotel, where I waited for the return of our other troupe members. Gathered in the Chaperone Room Of Death and gabbed about the evening's events. Got a call from Walt. Slept.
---FRIDAY: Woke up rather briskly. Paced to First Watch. Ate potatoes. Traveled to the Convention Center for the Cappies workshop. Won M&M's. Helped Backel win M&M's. Looked at vending tables. Bought $5 shirt for the sheer reason that it was black and had "HELL" written at the bottom. Watched events. Lots of events. Talked about Don Jones. Ran back to the hotel. Changed. Sat for two hours staring at the television, watching The Simpsons and That 70's Show. Held Kevin back from breaking into my room. Meandered to the Tampa Theatre for "Proof." Held a burping contest. No, wait, that was the row of girls behind me. Sorry. I was mistaken. Talked to Kevin about his Girl Problems. Talked to Bill. Made friends with Bill forever. Trudged back to the hotel. Slept. Got a bad call from Walt. Made a pot of coffee. Slept.
---SATURDAY: Yanked myself from bed. Pulled on Converse as I was walking out of the hotel. Sat at First Watch. Ate nothing, drank a Coke. Didn't have to pay for said Coke. Walked to the TPAC. Stood by the waterfront. Talked to Chaz about his Girl Problems. Watched "The Importance Of Being Ernest." Was locked out of "School House Rock." Was snuck into "School House Rock." Loved "School House Rock." Watched "Baby." Cried that I had to watch "Baby," which turned out not to be the musical version. Went shopping at the Center Store. Almost stole at T-shirt that read: "Trouble. Right here in River City." Ran to The Asian Chef (formerly Ho-Ho's). Reinforced Child Labor. Laughed about Child Labor. Went back to the Convention Center. Met up with Mary. Walked back to the Hotel. Changed, and took degrading photos of Elis covering me with makeup. Headed over to Ferguson Hall. Watched the Mime Showcase that contained only minor instances of Mime Technique. Jumped into Morsannni Hall. Watched the Critic's Choice performances. Wondered when the REAL Critic's Choice performances would begin. Was astonished when someone said "they already have." Cried. Swept into Closing Ceremonies. Realized that Don Jones was receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award. Cried. Screamed after he performed "The Monologue" from "The Fantasticks." Talked to Don Jones as soon as the doors were opened for intermission. Hugged Don Jones. Went back inside Morsanni. Watched the Critic's Choice performances. Wondered when the REAL Critic's Choice performances would begin. Was astonished when someone said "they already have." Cried. Shouted for joy when the Amazing large group musical number took the stage and helped me remember what we were actually here to celebrate. Stayed for the dance. "Stood" in the dance tent, also defined as "dancing." Found help for an injured girl. Took her to Don Jones. Don Jones had everything under control. Went back to the hotel. Packed. Slept.
---SUNDAY: Packed. Cleaned the room. Headed downstairs. Got on the bus. Left Tampa. Cried.
Draining week? You tell me. I'm just not sure I want to go further into the State experience than I'm forced to. It's been difficult.
I think that I'm immensely grateful to be back at home.
Not that State wasn't amazing.
I'm just too compulsively depressing to shudder back into the light, explaining in all its wonder, the glory of State.
I really need to get back on track. Alright. I'll jump through quickly on a day-by-day basis:
---WEDNESDAY: Lost Elis. Found Elis. Rode on the bus. Arrived. Unpacked. Watched a series of terrible one-acts. Went to the hotel. Changed. "Gussied ourselves up," if you will. Trudged back to the TPAC. Spotted Mr. Don Jones, Man Of The Century. Drooled over Michael J. Higgins and his grey tux. Perhaps that was just me. Trudged back to the hotel. Slept.
---THURSDAY: Woke up. Went back to sleep. Woke up. Dragged ourselves out to the Convention Center. I auditioned. I sucked. Watched events. Went back to the hotel. Changed. Ran to the new "Upstairs Dining" at the TPAC curtsey of Don Jones. Don Jones bussed our tables. Leaped into "Nine Armenians!" Skipped (and jaywalked) to the Tampa Theatre for "The Effects of Gamma Rays on Man On The Moon Marigolds." Jaywalked back to the hotel, where I waited for the return of our other troupe members. Gathered in the Chaperone Room Of Death and gabbed about the evening's events. Got a call from Walt. Slept.
---FRIDAY: Woke up rather briskly. Paced to First Watch. Ate potatoes. Traveled to the Convention Center for the Cappies workshop. Won M&M's. Helped Backel win M&M's. Looked at vending tables. Bought $5 shirt for the sheer reason that it was black and had "HELL" written at the bottom. Watched events. Lots of events. Talked about Don Jones. Ran back to the hotel. Changed. Sat for two hours staring at the television, watching The Simpsons and That 70's Show. Held Kevin back from breaking into my room. Meandered to the Tampa Theatre for "Proof." Held a burping contest. No, wait, that was the row of girls behind me. Sorry. I was mistaken. Talked to Kevin about his Girl Problems. Talked to Bill. Made friends with Bill forever. Trudged back to the hotel. Slept. Got a bad call from Walt. Made a pot of coffee. Slept.
---SATURDAY: Yanked myself from bed. Pulled on Converse as I was walking out of the hotel. Sat at First Watch. Ate nothing, drank a Coke. Didn't have to pay for said Coke. Walked to the TPAC. Stood by the waterfront. Talked to Chaz about his Girl Problems. Watched "The Importance Of Being Ernest." Was locked out of "School House Rock." Was snuck into "School House Rock." Loved "School House Rock." Watched "Baby." Cried that I had to watch "Baby," which turned out not to be the musical version. Went shopping at the Center Store. Almost stole at T-shirt that read: "Trouble. Right here in River City." Ran to The Asian Chef (formerly Ho-Ho's). Reinforced Child Labor. Laughed about Child Labor. Went back to the Convention Center. Met up with Mary. Walked back to the Hotel. Changed, and took degrading photos of Elis covering me with makeup. Headed over to Ferguson Hall. Watched the Mime Showcase that contained only minor instances of Mime Technique. Jumped into Morsannni Hall. Watched the Critic's Choice performances. Wondered when the REAL Critic's Choice performances would begin. Was astonished when someone said "they already have." Cried. Swept into Closing Ceremonies. Realized that Don Jones was receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award. Cried. Screamed after he performed "The Monologue" from "The Fantasticks." Talked to Don Jones as soon as the doors were opened for intermission. Hugged Don Jones. Went back inside Morsanni. Watched the Critic's Choice performances. Wondered when the REAL Critic's Choice performances would begin. Was astonished when someone said "they already have." Cried. Shouted for joy when the Amazing large group musical number took the stage and helped me remember what we were actually here to celebrate. Stayed for the dance. "Stood" in the dance tent, also defined as "dancing." Found help for an injured girl. Took her to Don Jones. Don Jones had everything under control. Went back to the hotel. Packed. Slept.
---SUNDAY: Packed. Cleaned the room. Headed downstairs. Got on the bus. Left Tampa. Cried.
Draining week? You tell me. I'm just not sure I want to go further into the State experience than I'm forced to. It's been difficult.
Monday, April 05, 2004
OKAY. THIS ONE IS PRETTY GOOD. (EVEN THE COMMENT ABOUT LESBIANS MAKES ME SMILE.)
LIVERMORE, CA - In a move that caught almost everyone by surprise, stem cells have organized into a powerful special interest group. "We didn't think they could communicate, much less hold meetings," said a scientist at Lawrence Livermore Laboratory, still reeling from the shock. Researchers theorize that the stem cells, long suspected of having souls, have been holding get-togethers in the spiritual dimension. Among the demands, spelled out in a petri dish with unused segments of DNA, the stem cells insist on having their own annual parade "with floats and crap." "They're feisty," said Wolf Nichols, head of stem cell research. "Especially the lesbian stem cells. Can I say that?"
LIVERMORE, CA - In a move that caught almost everyone by surprise, stem cells have organized into a powerful special interest group. "We didn't think they could communicate, much less hold meetings," said a scientist at Lawrence Livermore Laboratory, still reeling from the shock. Researchers theorize that the stem cells, long suspected of having souls, have been holding get-togethers in the spiritual dimension. Among the demands, spelled out in a petri dish with unused segments of DNA, the stem cells insist on having their own annual parade "with floats and crap." "They're feisty," said Wolf Nichols, head of stem cell research. "Especially the lesbian stem cells. Can I say that?"
I'M NOT SURE WHY I'M THINKING ABOUT HARM-FARM, BUT I AM.
BEETSVILLE, OH – After a tragic communication mixup, Flossie Mongo devoured her husband of 30 years, Lester. "I asked my doctor if I should get on that Atkins diet and lose weight by eating meat. He just got all serious-like and said -- and I'm quoting now -- ‘Just eat Les.' At least that's what I thought he said. Now he claims there was a silent s on the end of Les." Mrs. Mongo explained that her husband had been riding her hard to follow whatever orders the doctor gave her for losing weight. "He was a real hard ass. I mean literally, I could hardly chew threw it." After a net gain of nearly 150 pounds in one day, Mrs. Mongo admits her other big mistake: "I should have spaced it out. That was way too much for one meal. But I worked up quite an appetite with all the stabbing and sawing. You have no idea." She adds, wistfully, "I'll miss him, but quiet is good too."
BEETSVILLE, OH – After a tragic communication mixup, Flossie Mongo devoured her husband of 30 years, Lester. "I asked my doctor if I should get on that Atkins diet and lose weight by eating meat. He just got all serious-like and said -- and I'm quoting now -- ‘Just eat Les.' At least that's what I thought he said. Now he claims there was a silent s on the end of Les." Mrs. Mongo explained that her husband had been riding her hard to follow whatever orders the doctor gave her for losing weight. "He was a real hard ass. I mean literally, I could hardly chew threw it." After a net gain of nearly 150 pounds in one day, Mrs. Mongo admits her other big mistake: "I should have spaced it out. That was way too much for one meal. But I worked up quite an appetite with all the stabbing and sawing. You have no idea." She adds, wistfully, "I'll miss him, but quiet is good too."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
