thank you jazzman, davvero???, helen & edgar

amici miei–

1. train and trane

tante cose da dire. where to start? for one, i must thank the jazzman who serenaded me on the train the other day. i was on my way to the office-i-frequent-mondays-though-fridays, late as usual, and the public transit was experiencing “train delays.”

whoever supplied it denied it

no problem here, i thought. for a jazzman was playing on a quiet electric guitar and using some kind of dream rock effect. the resulting tunes were most soothing to the ears. lionel richie standards and billy joel’s “just the way you are” were among just some of the gems being plucked on that guitar. mm mm good.

didn’t know you juggled, billy!

the jazzman looked like something out of detroit’s back ally in the 80s. foppish blonde hair and a leather jacket that had seen better days. he had an affable, midwestern air. “i’ve got a full length CD. my name is trane. that’s trane like coltrane,” he intoned a full measure below the volume of usual train bellowers. i didn’t mind. i love a soft spoken steven and indeed that is what he was. wish i could have heard the rest of his speech but perhaps another time. a gal can hope. his focus was less on promotion on more on music. bravo.

eric clapton’s “layla” (got me on my knees) began. i closed my eyes. suddenly the train–but not trane–melted away. i was on a so-cal deck over looking the pacific. nibbling on some roasted “veggies” (not vegetables!) with a crisp glass of white wine and the gaze of my lover not far off. the joyful riffs rippled in my drums and when i opened my eyes we were nearing penn station.

the jazzman was too far at the other end of the train and i realized i wouldn’t reach him in time so i made a point of popping my head and giving a thumbs up. we shared a smile and off i went.

2. davvero?! buon appe-vietato!

it has come to my attenzione that munching round the historic monumenti of roma has recently become vietato and that touristi can incur a multa of up to $650. ma davvero! (but really?!) this seems especially harsh in a land that touts the sweet life. hmph! while i would agree that most tourists need to up their politesse, such a fine seems quite harsh. especially as i have observed more than one carabiniere preening instead of policing in the past…! for more read here.

baby, you look great

3. helen & edgar

speaking of europa. i recently saw edgar oliver’s helen & edgar at theatre 80 down on 4th street in manahatta. what a show! i first caught wind of oliver’s fine tale telling at dixon place‘s “little theatre,” curated by el jeffe jones among others. oliver spoke of a curious encounter with a handsome young man in brooklyn’s prospect park and i was immediately hooked. his voice is most distinctive and unusual but i believe it is just how he speaks. (imagine an old timey, almost english accent with a touch of transylvania and you’ll get the idea).

a theatre great

anyhoo, edgar oliver is a fine performer (i also caught him in april performing in a fine workshop by normandy raven sherwood)… he offers audiences a unique combination of vulnerability and knowing wit. at times he stands with his hands over his heart in a shy, child-like stance but at various phrasings he succumbs to a knowing wink. [wink!]

the story of oliver’s upbringing in savannah was most fascinating, hilarious and deeply moving (when was the last time you felt something at the theatre i ask you!). plus his poetry of prose is something that nourishes the ears while his simple delivery sans artifice delights the eyes. (there are also beautiful slides of paintings by oliver’s mother.) at the end of the story, which lasts for about an hour and a half, he described sneaking off to europa with his sister. it felt like the start of another story. i could have listened all night. go see it.

a bientot mes amis!
kippy

hot dogs and tatas

mes amis–

ever stop to ponder the old adage “make new friends but keep the old?” i do.

to think i’ve known my pal paul rudd since 1995 just makes me shake my head in quiet and amused disbelief. that’s 17 years! not that anyone is counting…

i recall the young stud–i mean rudd–at a kind of LA casting cattle call. i was working in production back then (always with my tail feather in a twist!) and spotted a most hilarious headshot among many images absurdes that day. ho! i think i laughed myself a new freckle when i spotted this one:

so coy

qui est cet homme! i thought. what a demonstratively shy pose. yet i sensed a certain mischief and intrigue behind those eyes. and i admired the moxie to let such a foto go to the printing press. i called him in.

i won’t divulge more than is necessary. i should let paul tell his own tales. the rest, as they say, is movie magic.

i always wanted a step brother

anyhoo, as you know i do not often endorse celebrity statements but what with keanue reeves sending out emails on behalf of new york city players (in the most maddening and ingenious marketing ploy of the season) i feel i must intervene. allora. here is what paul recently texted me.

..a simpler time..

“The very first time I met David Wain, Michael Showalter, and Joe Lotruglio was at a performance of Sex (a.k.a. Weiners and Boobs). I immediately saw it for what it was — a play that rivaled Hamlet in sheer scope and bravura. Ingeniously, I became friends with them that very night. Since then, I have ridden their coattails on many past and future projects. I guess what I’m trying to say is, go see Sex (a.k.a. Weiners and Boobs) while you have the chance, befriend them, and you too may have a shot at becoming an internationally beloved movie star.”

i responded:

“mais paul! qu’est ce que tu dit! i am already a star of the interweb and a media guru sensation! plus it was i who was with you that night, you fool, acting as your arm candy. you do not remember…? don’t worry… i’d forget me too…;-(”

(i always use an emoticon when words can’t fully express my emotions.)

holy!

anyhoozle, the fine people of clubbed thumb, one of my favorite theatre companies in gotham, are putting on a benie. that’s right. an old fashioned barn raising benefit. and i am told there will be a one-time revival performance of Sex (a.k.a. Weiners and Boobs) … hence rudd’s descriptive and loquacious text message à moi l’autre soir.

the show will be performed by such stars as snl‘s taran killan and jeremy shamos along with a cadre of other talents: shari albert, ian helfer, nina hellman, zak orth, peter salett, joe lo truglio and david wain to name seven. plus, i am sure we can expect the efferevesent maria striar, artistic director of clubbed thumb, who’s hair is the most enviable in all of downtown theatre right besides erin courney.

striar

courtney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the showing is monday oct. 29 at 7.30pm (a most civilized hour!)
at 13th street theater (otherwise known as classic stage company) 136 e 13th street
tix to the show are $50, where as show and post-show soiree access are $100.

a number of amici are going to be zipping in for the weekend so call or text just like rudd. i am looking forward to attending this glorious evening of hotdogs and tatas. i’ll take mine with relish. (wink!)

as they say in park slope: a bientotally!
kippy

ps next up i will have comments about a comet and a whale bone as well as some meandering thoughts on the show portlandia. stay tuned!

oh my lanta (gustatory delights)

mes amis–

il y a beau coup des temps that i do not write. i have been in bangalore on sabbatical. but i find myself back in the city of gotham and revving up for some ecriture on my traveling web log.

allora! i just popped down to the houndstooth at the office-i-frequent-mondays-through-fridays. i love “bar food” but not usually during the day. however, today was chilly and my luncheon companion was keen on a burger. i acquiesced.

pulled pork? yes.

greeting us was a host of some kind behind a podium as well as a creature of halloween. he was made of rubber and stood stooped offering wrapped mints.

ghoul!

i opted for the pulled pork sandwich (sans bun!) and what a delight. it brought back to the thanskgivings of my youth in south carolina where i feasted on scrumptious sgt. white’s bbq. (mmm mmm yum. mamma mia!) the service was pleasant. (my request for some extra cole slaw sauce was heeded along with my request for mayonnaise… you can take the gal out of europe but not the europe out of the gal!) there was a paucity of water. “if only they were as generous with their water as they are with their cob webs!” i remarked. (there were many cob web decorations webbing the restaurant to create a kind of “haunted” look.

spooky

speaking of feasts: just the other day my beloved whipped up a luncheon extravaganza. small burgers on gluten free buns. my my. it was  a party in my tum post-pranzo! i was quite enjoying the shaved bits of corn i put into a kind of salad yesterday. and i usually hate salads–i prefer feasts!

dig in

while we are on gustatory topics, i’ll have you know that it is national donut month. (as if our united states needed an entire moon cycle dedicated to those round (and rounding!) objets d’arts.) sadly, i was otherwise occupied during yesterday’s donut celebrations at the ace hotel. in fact, i had a rather healthy meal at wild ginger while on break from a technical rehearsal of missing person(s) at dixon place. the only wild thing i saw at said eatery was two vegetarians whose hands were nearly touching  across a table. hmm–such wild escapades indeed!

flagrant pdas!

as for my mild manners… i will round out this posting with a peculiar article i read. if the debates of last night left you thinking that you’re living in a banana republic, consider a halal internet. i am wont to agree with reardon’s analysis that this could never really take full effect. (i, for one, know far too many smarties living in iran who would subvert such tactics!) nevertheless, it is chilling to consider the possibility. it seems the citoyenne always gets the short end of the political  stick! [see: from hell to hell, it’s local!]

damn politics

a bientot,
kippy