The Decemberists are tops, but I'm too damn'd tired to drive

to Omaha, to a sold out show tonight. I want to go home and take a nap.

Sorry everyone.

Congrats to Matty Gau on his free ticket!

Tonight! The Infanta AWAKENS!

Greetins'! TONIGHT, I see the Decemberists at Sokol in Omaha. I've been carrying my ticket for about 3 months now, and finally, that ticket will fufill its destiny. I am enraptured. My favorite songs are "The Sporting Life", "The Bus Mall", although most of their songs exude playful lyricism and dancing melodies making every listen a worthwhile one.

In other news...

I have been playing Zelda: The Windwaker on me Gamecube religiously. Greatest game ever man, although it bears many similarities to its predecesors on the N64 (Ocarina, Majora's Mask), the graphics, story, and gameplay never get tiring. Can't wait to play the new Zelda: Twilight Princess next year. All good boys love video games.

Yesterday, I drew a picture of a giant squid and a sperm whale locked in mortal combat. I based it off of a t-shirt design as pictured on retrocrush.com. Basically, I just copied the design, sans fez and martini glasses. Then last night, as I was playing Zelda, who should I happen to sail into, but a giant squid, whom I quickly dispatched with my cannon. Then, after last night's Most Haunted, in which a ghost that went by the name of "Elizabeth" stopped the mechanics of a clock tower whenever requested, a program called Mysteries of the Smithsonian aired. One of these mysteries housed in the Smithsonian is the giant squid exhibit, as the famed museum has a small female giant squid on display. My my, the squid gods were taunting me with glee last night. A curator on the program had said that a giant squid has never been photographed in its natural environment. His comments must have pre-dated this most recent incident. How wrong he was...http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/09/0927_050927_giant_squid.html We will leave it all to the imagination.

Streetcar rehearsal goes well, only two weeks from opening night. I will say this, Tennessee Williams did not write "easy" plays, niether did Arthur Miller, O'Neil, Ibsen, Strindberg, Kushner, you know, the Greats of playwriting. By this I mean, Williams infused in Streetcar a deliberate amount of psychological underpinnings and subtext that if not played correctly by the players, Streetcar is merely a story, and a spectacle, the opposites of what Williams intended it to be. So then, the trick for me, as I discovered this past week, and the other principal actors, is to find the emotional connections with these characters. Mitch cannot act hurt by the fact that Stanley told him Blanche was a raving Delilah. Mich IS hurt, and playing that can be very emotionally exhausting in Act 3, scene 3. Well, it will be a fine show, I do believe.

Allow me to post a follow-up to last Saturday's post where I extolled praise upon my favorite TV program MOST HAUNTED, on the Travel Channel. Next week, Halloween weekend, Most Haunted goes live, and heads to the Whitechapel district of London, haunted host of the infamous Jack the Ripper slayings. I am somewhat skeptical of their intent. The advertisements for the four day event, which culminates in a live broadcast on Monday, the 31st. It's being billed as the Hunt for Jack the Ripper. I'm skeptical. Why don't they just let sleeping ghosts lie. The man got away with it, and it was only 6 hussies he did in. Oh well...Knowing me, I'll probably watch it, but something tells me this is all going to be pretty futile for Evey, Derek, and the Most Haunted team. Still, I visited 2 of the murder sites when I visited London in Dec. '03, so, it'll be cool to see Mitre's Square, Miller's Court again, some of those other sites, if they go there.

Finally, I've decided to dress as Dali for the costume contest here at work on the 31st. I wasn't going to at first, since I thought, who the hell here would know who Dali even was? My co-worker, Sharon, who sits in the cubicle next to me, had no clue. So I showed her a picture of him, and also Persistance of Memory. But I don't think it rang any bells. Still, there's a prize involved, and I know Dali can beat out any two-bit vampire or bumble-bee. God, I fucking hate people who dress up as bumble bees for halloween. Totally fucking unoriginal congratulations.

Fucking bumble bee costumes...

More later...MAHALO!

Kurt Vonnegut

I had a dream yesterday afternoon that I had met Kurt Vonnegut. I was in the front yard of a house belonging to a family who were very lazy, and mostly slept all day in the same bed together. The fence of this front yard was made of wire and iron. it was not very attractive, and nor was the front yard. it was a very sunny day, although a dense fog had settled in across the neighborhood. From down the sidewalk, a stout old man, with a strange hat on came bicycling down the sidewalk. He looked like a ripe old Mark Twain, and he had a winter coat on. At first glance, it would appear he was not dressed for the season, but upon second glance, it was clear it did not matter to him, and he appeared quite comfortable. I knew immediately it was Kurt Vonnegut. I waved hello, and he stopped his bike on the other side of the fence.

"Hello!" I said.

"Hello," he replied, cheerfully. I wanted to ask him if he was Kurt Vonnegut, but out of respect for a celebrity he didn't nessecarily cherish, I abstained. "I read in the obituaries this morning that God died." He said. "Says he was over 6000 years old."

"That's not a bad age to be," said I.

"Not at all," he said, grinning. I patted him on his back and we both chuckled in delight.

"Mr. Vonnegut, may I shake your hand?"

He recoiled, with an expression of distaste. "NO! No, I don't do that sort of thing anymore."

"Well, that's okay. Perhaps I'll just give you another one of these then," And I patted him heartily on the back again. "And away you go!"

He said nothing, and with a wide grin, began peddling down the sidewalk, into the thick bank of fog. Soon, he had disappeared from my view entirely.