Fear has ruined Halloween

The Halloweens of my childhood were so much better than my kids’. We were turned loose to trick or treat all over town. I think I went to only one Halloween carnival my entire childhood and I thought it was really lame. I wanted to get out of there with my friends and go trick or treating.

I remember Buck and Beth sneaking eggs out of the house.

I remember me and Bill sorting our loot when Buck and Beth would come home, howling, covered with broken eggs and putting us in stitches telling us what happened.


I remember how cold it always was and not wanting to put a coat over my costume.


I remember Buck as a teenager putting together elaborate schemes to scare the shit out of trick or treaters.


I remember the times he played “Spooky” over and over again by the door.


I remember the rivalry between me and Bill on who could collect the most candy.


I remember that my friend Gail’s mom always gave out homemade popcorn balls. Some house in every neighborhood gave out caramel apples and word spread like wildfire. Some asshole would give out coffee candy. Rumors of needles and razor blades abounded. My feet would be soaking wet. My skinny arms sticking out of my coat sleeves (because I would be wearing last year’s coat) would be freezing.


And I was free, after dark, with a bunch of other kids, knocking on strangers doors and receiving candy.





A few of my favorite Halloween quotes:





'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.~William Shakespeare

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.~Emily Dickinson

Where there is no imagination there is no horror. ~Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr.

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~George Carlin

Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen,
Voices whisper in the trees,
"Tonight is Halloween!"~Dexter Kozen

Backward, turn backward,
O Time, in your flight
make me a child again
just for to-night!~Elizabeth Akers Allen

Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story. ~Mason Cooley

Just like a ghost, you've been a-hauntin' my dreams,
So I'll propose on Halloween.
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you.~Classics IV

Acting is like a Halloween mask that you put on. ~River Phoenix

The dream reveals the reality which conception lags behind. That is the horror of life—the terror of art.~One of the best quotes by Franz Kafka

I know'd it, know'd it,
Indeed I know'd it brother
I know'd it - Weeee!
Dem bones gonna rise again.- Anonymous Early American Ballad

THE HORROR ... the horror ...

Dear God in heaven. This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I had my TV on and tuned to a local morning program. The station has been running ads for haunted houses, and Halloween supplies. This morning I actually had chills run down my spine when I heard the music accompanying a local commercial. It was heart-stopping …

it was nausea inducing …

it was …

it was …

gasp …

“Deck the Halls.”

Incoming!

You know, every now and then circumstances converge to create incidents that are comic theatre at its very best. If you’re really lucky you get to witness one of these sidewalk improvisations. I was that fortunate person yesterday.

After another stimulating day of cataslacking at the medical center library, I clocked out and walked outside toward the parking deck. My path takes me along a sidewalk bordered on the right by a shoulder height brick wall and on the left by perfectly spaced, sickly Willow oaks. I noticed a squirrel on the wall and was amazed at how close he let me get before doing a lazy squirrel hop along the flat crest of the wall. He stayed about 3 feet in front of me.

I was mildly interested because we don’t see squirrels around here often. The last time we had a family of the critters in our corner of the campus, it was wiped out in one day by a hawk -- so much for animals killing only for food. Like an avian serial killer, that raptor picked them off one-by-one, sadistically displaying his victims, splayed out on tree branches outside numerous windows of our building.

So, as I was walking along with the squirrel on point, a doctor passed me on the left. Everything was cool until the squirrel ran out of wall. Now this squirrel had several options when it came to the end of the wall:
1. Stop.
2. Run down the other side of the wall into the chancellor’s garden.
3. Run down the sidewalk side of the wall and do the squirrel equivalent of dodge ball like they do in the middle of the street when confronted by a car.
4. Leap from the wall to a tree on the other side of the walkway.
If you picked number 4, you’ve read my blogs before.

The squirrel leaps, grabbing desperately for any branch. It manages to grip the end of a spindly low-hanging branch and swings toward the trunk. Freeze frame. Remember the doc that passed me? Well, he’s now dead even with tarzan squirrel. Resume action. The doctor is walking along, lost in thought, oblivious to his surroundings. I’m more interested because the squirrel’s now committed and I’m wondering how he’s gonna get out of the situation. In a split second I discovered squirrel reflexes are fast but they have their limits. The doc didn’t have a chance. One second he’s walking along, minding his own business. The next he’s smacked upside the head with a branchful of squirrel. I swear the rodent had hold of one of the poor guy’s nostrils as the branch swung back. It took me about .000001 seconds to process what I’d just witnessed and react. Another pedestrian was next to me and in unison we said, “Whoa. Dude!” The guy next to me said, “Did you see that?” I responded with, “Did that guy just get bitch slapped by a squirrel?” We then proceeded to laugh our asses off all the way to the parking deck while the doc kept looking over his shoulder at us. He was not amused. I keep replaying the event in my head -- in slow motion, complete with a high pitched tarzan yell.

The urban jungle … sinister … unpredictable … inhabited by kamikaze rodents.

The New Shows are Here! The New Shows are Here!

Out of desperation (work avoidance), I tuned in NBC Monday night and watched two of their new Fall shows. The first was “Chuck,” which, although based on a ridiculous premise, was fun. It’s about a computer geek that’s part of the “Nerd Herd” that works at a thinly disguised Best Buy. (Those ad people at Best Buy are ingenious – all the exposure, none of the advertising dollars.) Chuck is a lovable, socially awkward goof played by doe-eyed Zachary Levi. The producers think that by giving the adorable Mr. Levi a bad haircut and dorky wardrobe, people will think he’s just an average-looking guy. It doesn’t take much imagination to see that Zachary Levi is a hunk. I really wish network primetime would sack up and cast normal-looking people in leads. The side kick, Morgan (Joshua Gomez), is the character I find most entertaining mainly because he’s funny as shit. He’s got some great lines and delivers them believably. It’s not so much the line, line, line, punchline formula. The writers here have come up with good, funny dialogue between Chuck and Morgan.

Back to the stupid premise, Chuck has this old college buddy that became a CIA agent. He also becomes dead in the first scene. His final act, as he lies bleeding on a rooftop staring down the barrel of one of the evildoers, is to send his old computer game playmate, Chuck, an email. The email contains images encrypted with all the secrets of all the terrorists everywhere. We don’t know who they are or where they’re from, but by God they’re terrorists and NBC figures that’s enough explanation for most Americans. When Chuck opens it, all the images flash, and voila, Chuck now has the secrets in his head. Dead guy’s lover/fellow spy, tracks down Chuck, and manages to destroy instead of steal his computer (while dressed like a ninja) leaving our hero as the only known source of every dastardly plan the terrorists have ever thought up and a hard-on for sizzling hot spygirl. Just in case you’re blind, NBC makes sure there are plenty of underwear clad spygirl scenes. No explanation about how the hell Chuck’s biological memory is now encrypted with this artificial intelligence. The fact that Chuck’s magic memory would have a short shelf life is totally ignored. I mean, terrorists are always coming up with new plots. It’s what they do, right? Spygirl develops a soft spot for Chuck and prevents a rival NSA agent from blowing him away after she realizes Chuck has all the diabolical schemes of the suspiciously swarthy terrorists stowed in his noggin. Unintentional hilarity ensues as Chuck seems to upload the appropriate plot for the given situation and using good old nerd gumption defuses a bomb intended for a general that is in the middle of delivering a speech in a packed hotel ballroom. That nobody in the ballroom notices the three people gathered around a food trolley located in the exact center of the room that contains a bright red bomb complete with wires, digital timer and flashing lights, is not addressed.

So, it appears that in the world of “Chuck” we could all be dead or assimilated if it weren’t for loveable computer nerds with flash drive memories and ridiculously good looking CIA agents (in stiletto boots).

The second premiere I watched was “Journeyman.” Think “Quantum Leap” meets The Time Traveler’s Wife. First episode was disappointing but I will watch again hoping that Kevin McKidd’s talent will be able to sell the premise as well as Scott Bakula’s did for “Quantum Leap.” Something I found annoying is that they made Kevin McKidd American. The actor is British and I found his voice disturbingly flat as he spoke with an American accent. Overall, my reaction to the show was “meh.”

“Dirty Sexy Money”

I liked this one mainly because I like the lead actor – Peter Krause. Of course Donald Sutherland and Jill Clayburgh add legitimacy to the program. My biggest gripe is that the characters of the Darling children were too cliche. Hopefully this was because the writers were trying to introduce these characters to the audience as quickly as possible and they will add nuance to the personalities as the series progresses.

Long beautiful "Hair!"

Labor Day has never been a big deal for me. Just a long summer weekend – not a real holiday. This year was the exception. My husband and I went to New York to see our daughter in an off off Broadway production of “Hair!” When Hair made its debut in 1967, I was 11 years old. I heard the songs on the radio and, of course, the nude scene was big news back then. I knew it was about hippies and pictured it as one protest scene after another. I saw the movie probably no more than 5 years ago.

Since my daughter’s involvement with this production, I’ve been educated. I learned the history, looked up the lyrics, listened to the soundtrack. Heck, we even sent our daughter a box of clothes and stuff for the cast. (Laura is the costume designer as well as playing Chrissy.) We didn’t arrive in NY until too late to see the Saturday show but met up with Laura and many of the cast, after, for drinks. I already knew most of the cast because they were also students at Neighborhood Playhouse when my daughter attended. The new cast members were every bit as friendly, and well, just as sweet as they could be. I was struck by the energy emanating from the group. These people had just finished a long, physically demanding performance and they didn’t seem exhausted, quite the opposite. They were stoked.

The show we attended was 7:00, Sunday. We met up with friends who’d seen the original production about 4 times. I was the only one that hadn’t seen it on stage. I was amazed. How the hell did these kids manage to capture the spirit of a culture that existed at least 15 years before they were born? As a member of the audience that was alive during that era, I was reminded of the naiveté my friends and I shared during the late 60’s and early 70’s. We all wanted to go to Haight-Asbury (even though I wasn’t exactly sure where it was) thinking we could just show up and be adopted into this benign community and be free. When upset about how our parents were smothering us and demanding that we conform to their ideals, the common retort (sometimes even spoken aloud) was, “Up the ol’ hole, I’m off to Frisco.” All those memories and, more amazingly, feelings returned as I watched these talented actors. I was really impressed with the staging and choreography, especially “Going Down,” and a short Kama Sutra scene between “Air” and “I Got Life.” Of course the highlight for me was my daughter’s song, “Frank Mills.” I forget to breathe sometimes when I watch her perform and this was one of those times. Her father cried. Poor Laura, it’s pretty bad when the quality of your performance is based on how wet your father’s face is or how blue your mother has turned. I think she’s shooting for making me pass out.

I didn’t know it, but, Nathan Lane sat behind me. I wonder what he thought of the show. Was he there scoping out new talent or does he just like “Hair”?

Okay, okay, the nude scene. All my friends and family asked me, “Are they gonna do the nude scene? How do you feel about that?” Well, truthfully, it bothered me when I first realized my daughter would be naked on stage. Then I just put it out of my mind. I told my friends I would look at the other side of the stage. What really happened was that as soon as the nude cast emerged from beneath the parachute silk, I located Laura and was momentarily spellbound. I then looked to the other side of the stage. But you know what? The memory I will always have of this scene is the image of my breathtakingly beautiful, fearless daughter.

Know where I can pick up an imagination cheap?

According to W.P. Kinsella, "Writing is ability, imagination, passion, and stamina. Ability is being able to write complete sentences with clear, straightforward, standard English, which eliminates 70% of everyone who wants to write. Imagination is having a story to tell, which eliminates another 20%..." I made it into the top 30% -- woohoo. I am seriously screwed.

I attended my first fiction writing class last night which I enjoyed in a licking a 9-volt battery kind of way. My classmates are very smart, very articulate, and very talented (the bastards). We were given a sheet of paper printed with several first lines from short stories and told to pick two lines that appealed to us. The two I chose were: "Understand that your cat is a whore and cannot help you," and "Early in the morning on the first anniversary of the day her family survived, the mother woke." We were then told to write a paragraph using one of the sentences we chose as the first line and the other choice as the last line. Fuck me. Okay fine, I somehow managed to slap some bullshit between those two sentences in a somewhat coherent manner. I even had time to revise because other students were taking a lot of time with this. The professor finally called time and asked if anyone would like to read their paragraphs. You betcha! Those students that wrote for so long -- effing brilliant. Made what I wrote look like "Dick, Jane, and Sally had a wreck and hate their cat, Spot. The end."

We have until September 18th (3 weeks) to turn in our first story. Two students turned their's in last night, of course. I've begun four stories; does that count?

That's entertainment.

Yep, some days you're the dark crystal and some days you're the Podling. I swear to God, there are days I feel like my computer at work is sucking the essence right out of me.

I'm a movie whore. I admit it. I also love live theatre but don't get the opportunity to attend often enough. The best play I ever saw (outside of my daughter's) was "Dance of Death" starring Sir Ian McKellan and Frances De La Tour. I was fortunate enough to see it at the Lyric Theatre in London back in '03. I so admire English actors in that even though they may be successful in movies; they regularly return to the stage to hone their skills. American actors -- not so much. I saw poor Julianne Moore acting opposite Bill Nighy in "The Vertical Hour" last November on Broadway and Mr. Nighy mopped the floor with her.

My favorite movie at the moment is "Secret Life of Words" with Tim Robbins, Sarah Polley and the remarkable Julie Christie. It's a beautifully acted, quiet film that affected me deeply.

So, maybe your thinking that I'm an entertainment snob. Well, guess what. I also live and breathe a (Jesus, I can't believe I'm admitting this) soap opera. "Days of Our Lives" to be specific. But, I'm choosy about that too. I only watch episodes with Stephen Nichols and Mary Beth Evans aka Steve and Kayla. Thanks to the internet I know when they will be on. Hey, they're out there turning the crap that's been written for them into gold day after day after day with little time for rehearsal. It's the closest thing you'll see to live theatre on TV. I gotta hand it to them. And, at least the soaps are employing actors (that is when they aren't casting models) unlike all the reality show crap. Johnny Depp got his start on a soap as did Meg Ryan, Julianne Moore, George Clooney, Halle Barry, Jimmy Smits, Heath Ledger, Morgan Freeman, the list goes on and on.

Therefore, I amend my initial statement. I'm a movie, theatre, television whore. An equal opportunity slut, if you will.