I've read through this article on CNN.com for a few days now - I've probably read it 4 or 5 times so far, and I keep coming back to it because it gets under my skin.
I guess the best way to describe myself is a "Christian deist", though I suspect the author of that book would accuse me of copping-out. It seems that the author of the book (who is different from the author of the article) has a rather strong black-or-white view of not only faith, but how that faith is to be observed.
Growing up as a teen, I was very active in the Episcopal Church. I was an acolyte, I sang in the church choir, I was active with the Youth Group, and I even went beyond the church to participate in regional youth events.
Now, I am the first to admit - I was a bit of a snot during my teenage years. I thought I knew everything, and because I was a snot - I made sure everyone else "knew" that I was an expert on everything. I regret this. But as a consequence of this - there was a vocal group of people that made it their (seemingly) life's work to make me feel uncomfortable as possible in that building. Did I deserve it? Some, probably. I also know these same people hold a grudge against me to this day. So, after leaving HS and heading 3 hours away for my undergrad - I just kind of stopped going to a church. Some of it was laziness, more of it had to do with still "smarting" from the lashings that I had taken during the last 18 or so months I was at that church.
After a while, it became a convenient excuse for me, and I used it as a shield. Then this summer came along and there was a major tragedy in my family.
Here's the relevant section, if you don't want to click the link (and I don't):
A mother consoled
Irene Calhoun attended Grace Episcopal Church in Utica Sunday morning, church officials said.
Organist and choirmaster Bruce Smith said Irene Calhoun had been a member of his choir for one season a few years ago, but had to stop because she had so many other commitments.
“She was delightful to work with,” he said, adding that she had sung in the choir when she was younger and loves to sing. “She always came in with a smile on her face and was always ready to work.”
Smith said as soon as Irene Calhoun entered the church Sunday, she was “immediately surrounded by lots of people in the church who knew her.”
Smith said he had spoken with her Sunday as well.
“I basically said to her that there wasn't anything I could say that was going to make the situation better, and that I was just going to sit with her,” he said. “And that's what I did.”
So, this church, the church I grew up in - was now allowing reporters in? This disturbed and disgusted me greatly. I won't lie - I may never step back into that church again. Or maybe even any church.
OK, now you're asking yourself - OK, what's the point? What does that have to do with anything? Well, I guess that I am living proof that the author of the book is correct - I am a "perverted christian". But I reject that label. Frankly, it doesn't even begin to describe me. I know my identity spiritually. I know and can explain very articulately what my faith is. At the end of the day, my issue is not with the Church - but rather the church. So, don't classify me as a perversion - it isn't black and white.
Expanding on my previous (and rather disorganized) thoughts:
I had some bad problems with the last show I worked on. First of all, I should have had a clue when I was brought on to conduct only and not run all the music. This coupled with the fact that the show was obviously a throwback to the "glory days" with its director and design.
I came in a few times early in the process on behest of the producer - first to fill in when the vocal coordinator wasn't around, and later because the producer wanted a smooth transition, so that the cast could get used to working with me. That ended up not working out because the VC got down right catty - and frankly made the atmosphere unpleasant for me to be around. So, after a long discussion with the producer - it was decided that I would lay low until the move into the theatre, where I would take over.
So we moved into the theatre, and of course - once again, the expectation of construction fell on me and the tech director for the theatre (who isn't actually obligated to help us). It was a fairly easy build (all things considered) - but it was still lengthy (roughly a 35-40 hr build), and it just was really disheartening.
On top of this - my relationship with both the director and the vocal coordinator was deteriorating. After being chastised for several things that I had no control over - the director frankly stopped being civil the second weekend; he would make comments about me behind my back to people - some without realizing that I was actually in earshot.
I've glossed over a lot, because I really don't need to get into it here. But this has really brought some issues to the forefront (once again).
Right now, I just don't want to do this anymore. I have a show starting in a week that I'm committed to that I have zero desire for. The cast looks good, and they're a really close bunch. But the last show was so acidic in my mind that the excitement and desire just isn't there.
Connected to this (surprise, surprise - John's having an existential crisis) is that I really am starting to believe that I have some friend issues. I've been finding that more and more my friends are falling into the "theatre" friend category - it seems like whenever we talk, we only talk about productions or shows or properties. Once that runs out - we don't talk. I see other people getting together for lunches, dinners, movies - whatever. So, its becoming clearer to me that they are good people - but I either don''t fit in, or there is just not room for me.
I'm sure, as usual - I'll be told I'm crazy and that there isn't a problem. And maybe there isn't - but why do I feel so down about it?
15 March 2010
Sitting here drunk, moping over my life - I know I can post here, because no one reads.
Last show was bad. No, not bad. Life-wrecking. I don't want to do this anymore.
I'm afraid all my friends are theatre friends. What happens when it ends?
So, I'm once again home for Christmas. My wife and I have an alternating schedule where one year we spend Christmas at my parents and New Year's at hers, then the next year we switch. So, this year was Christmas in Utica. It was really nice to see the whole family again - even if my sister's kids are a bit of a handful. Now I'm in Shortsville, at the in-laws house, where it is much quieter. We're here until the 2nd, and then its to the grind back home.
The quiet (and heck, even some of the craziness in Utica) has given me some serious time to think about the future and such. As well documented here, I've been feeling increasingly burned out with the theatre back home; for the longest while I was unsure if it was the particular group, the city itself, or even theatre as a whole. I think I've gained some perspective on the situation. Really, its a combination of all three. The group I'm with, while its been fun - I know I'm being increasingly pushed out of the inner circle of the day-to-day and long term machinations of the group; I know I'm useful swinging a hammer and hanging lights - and doing that was fun for a while. But it seems like that's what I'm being included for and not really for my musical skills. Plus, the city has two theatre groups - and despite what a select few have told me, the other group has had no interest in hiring me since March 2005. So, that's not an option. I guess its the culmination of the two that have me tired of the theatre; its very possible that if I worked outside of Denton that I might gain some new perspective and it might be fun again. But, over the last few months, there's been a new itch, so to speak. My degree is in classical performance/conducting, and I haven't really done anything with that since my doctoral lecture/recital back in April of 2008. So, maybe its time to focus on that.
Now, I'm not saying that I plan on quitting the theatre tomorrow and leaving; hell, this may be just idle talk, and I may be too wimpy to do anything about it. But I do have a totally insane idea - now just need to see if I can drag some insane people with me and make a go of it. But it feels like my days in the theatre are numbered and I need to figure out if its on my terms or theirs.
So, for the most part - I have never had an issue with renting vs. purchasing a house. Will we own one someday? Sure. But we've had some decent luck with landlords; there was really only one (in Potsdam, of course) who was a real douche.
The people we rent from in Denton have been getting on my nerves more and more consistently. About 2 years ago, we had a tree in our front yard that had some dead branches, so we asked them to have someone come and trim them so they didn't fall on the house. We come home one day a week later, and the ENTIRE TREE is gone. We called the office, and let them know - and their response was "Oh well, we told them only branches - but no big deal". Well, now we have a big ol' stump sitting in the front yard and our electricity bill is $40-50 higher in the summer because there's no shade on the house any more. Then there was the issue of the A/C - it would limp along, break down 2-3 times a summer. They kept telling us it was fine, and that it was normal for people to set their house temps to 80-85 degrees or so in the summer. Well, it turns out the repair guy they had was full of shit, and they finally replaced the unit this year after it broke down again and I bitched about it to the owner. What do you know? It keeps the house at about 75* on the hottest days of the summer.
Today, I am sitting around doing nothing because they've decided to have annual appliance checks. Of course, everything works fine. If it didn't WE WOULD TELL THEM. We get a form letter addressed to "Resident" (I've only rented from you for 8 years - its so hard to look up my name, right?) telling me they would be here between 9-5. So, yeah. Day wasted. Thanks a lot.
I don't post as often enough as I should because I find myself lacking anything of meaning to say; I wonder if its the same way with most people and blogs - I've set the expectation up that I am going to "change the world" (whatever that means) and if I don't have anything,I just don't write.
Of course, the point of a blog doesn't have to be that way - in fact, I'm pretty sure no one reads this anymore, so it really serves no purpose for anything but to entertain myself. With that in mind, I should be writing more. When I put ideas down on paper, it seems to reduce my stress level a bit. This is good - it seems like my stress level has been high for a while now.
So, minutiae in my life:
I just turned 30. It wasn't really stressful at the time. Every so often now, it creeps into my head that I am 30 and I am still not working in my chosen profession for a salary (there's the theater stuff I do, but that doesn't pay - hence no salary). That seems to send me into a bit of a spin, but I also am coming to the realization that I can only apply for jobs as they come. I cannot create jobs, nor can I make jobs magically appear. Doesn't lessen the stress about the situation, but it puts it in some sort of a perspective.
One of the benefits of turning 30 was that my parents decided to give me some money for my birthday, and I ended up buying a new laptop; it was needed, I loved my old one, but it was not only old - but it was just getting warn down. It got me through most of my Master's degree and all of my Doctorate, so it served its purpose. The new machine is a Gateway (as was the old one, I really like the product they make) and it came with Windows 7 Home Premium. I love it. Its everything that Vista was not, and has been very easy to get used to.
My theater life has been interesting in itself - I'm finally on a break, which has been fairly refreshing. Since January 5th, I chained together 4 shows, with the first 3 coming back to back to back (there was a whole 2 weeks between shows 3 and 4). It was mostly fun, I got to work with some fantastic people and meet many new ones. It also gave me a little perspective on my place (or lack thereof). I will admit, I've been spoiled by a few close friends in various productions, but it seems like the reality is that most people don't give two real thoughts about the music director; in the end, it seems that as long as the director and choreographer is good then the rest doesn't seem to matter. I'm not going to sit here and lie to myself and say that this doesn't matter - it does. But, I can't do anything to change it. I can't force people to like me, nor can I force people to audition for things I am a part of when the rest of the team is undesirable. I guess the reality is I am in a position that is seen as a nice bonus - if the music director is good, great. if not, then they'll work around it.
In the end, I need to stay true to myself as a musician and a person - something I've fought very long and hard to accomplish. If that results in people feeling like their time was wasted, then so be it. I will not compromise myself because some people have unrealistic images of themselves - all that matters is what goes on that minute, during that day, during that audition. If you think that is irrelevant because of your hopes or intentions - and consequently speak ill of me because of it - then you need to look closely at exactly why you choose to associate with me, because if you want me to acquiesce because "we're friends", then we're not really friends; you don't respect me.
Wow, now I've gone off and ranted - for no particular good reason. But I feel better. I won't lie - some of my fondest memories of Denton have come in the theater - but so have many of my most stressful moments. I'm still taking gigs up here; who can really abandon their "home"? Its my base of integrity - everything I've worked on to make myself a better director is here, and to abandon it would be morally wrong. But I am also actively looking outside of Denton for shows to work on. Why not? It would be nice to work with larger organizations, and there is always the possibility of getting paid. There are so many shows I would love to do, but it seems that Denton could/would never produce them... so I need to find a place that will have me that can/will.
Finally, total topic change: I need new books to read. Any ideas?
As some of you know, I've got a slight obsession with the ocean. I'm a certified SCUBA Rescue Diver, my favorite movie of all time is Jaws, and I've wanted to keep a salt water tank ever since moving down to Texas. Last September I finally plunked down the money and got myself a nice little 8 gallon setup.
I let the tank cycle for a month or so (which is normal for salt water tanks) and then added a few critters; a peppermint shrimp (which of course was named Patty... get it?) some snails and some hermit crabs (used as a cleaning crew to combat algae and such). First thing to go wrong ever was the peppermint shrimp died during an unsuccessful molt. OK, while a little disheartening, not the end of the world. Plus, I was ready for the first real inhabitants of the tank:
Here was a tomato clownfish and bubble-tip anemone that bonded very happily together.
I shortly after added some zooanthid polyps and some xenia. They all flouished. Then the tomato clownfish ate the xenia (which is REALLY unusual, and had I not seen it myself, I would not have believed it).
That lasted about a month, then the anemone died. I'm not exactly sure why - the feeding was right on specs as well as food and water parameters.
After Christmas, I added some ricordea mushrooms and a pair of Barbershop Goby.
Everything was going well, then I got hit with wave after wave of red algae (you can see the beginnings of a wave on the sand in that last pic). The first to go were the gobies - they didn't appreciate the algae, plus the tomato clownfish had it out for them. Usually clownfish are community fish, but after the anemone died this one turned downright nasty. He dispatched the gobies and ate the xenia.
By this point it was a win/lose battle with the red algae. I would get it out, and things would be good for a week. Then the algae would bloom again; within 48 hrs, it would cover the entire sandbed like I had never fought it. I tried siphoning it off, I tried chemical treatments, I was doing partial water changes as often as 2-3 times a week. Nothing worked. Within a month I had lost all of the zooanthid polyps. So, by this time it is March and I am down to the ricordea mushrooms and the clownfish. So, of course, the clownfish starts nipping at the mushrooms - and they die off. His job completed, the clownfish died (of pure hate, I assume) the first week of July.
By this point, I was in an epic stretch of shows, and I didn't have much time to concern myself with the mess I had caused.
But now with Chicago over and no show on the horizon until March, I've started anew.
The first thing I'm starting with is moving to a better pump/filter system. I've replaced the stock pump that came with the kit (which was roughly 100g per hour) to a Maxi-Jet 900 (which is roughly 230g per hour). The stronger water movement will help with algae formation to a degree, the other major mod will take care of the problem more definitively.
The stock filter system is such:
I'm changing it to this:
The chaeto in the middle chamber is actually a macro algae that filters water like it is its job... well, in this case, it is. I'll also do a tank mod to provide an additional light source for the chaeto so that it doesn't die. I'm hoping that with the faster flow the algae (red/bad) won't form and that the chaeto will help keep the phosphates and nitrates down so that the bad algae wouldn't have any food anyway.
Once this is done and running, I'll be adding back in new corals, starting with some more zooanthid polyps. My goal is to have primarily zooanthids, mushrooms and some candy cane coral. I might add in a new clownfish (percula this time, they are completely and totally non-aggressive). We'll see. Pics forthcoming as I finish the mods and start with livestock.
I know exactly why. I found a posting for an audition that I covet greatly, and it comes at a time that seems... well, for lack of a better term: heaven-sent.
I doubt I'll get the audition, but am applying anyway. It would solve many of my frustrations; it would put me back into a facet of my life that I have neglected going on 17 months.
I'm terrified of it. That this rejection might close that door permanently. That this is it - that I've reached my ceiling.
If this is it, then its time to re-examine my life and determine if I'm on the right path.
25 August 2009
Too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the soup.
07 July 2009
I got the gig.
So, I'm now booked from August (almost literally after I step off the plane) until October. Then its a short break, and hopefully doing another show up north. Maybe. We'll see, its a little tense up there, methinks (nothing I did - it has nothing to do with me, but may affect potential staff openings on the show that they'll "borrow" [tee hee]). Then its back down here to a (confirmed) Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, auditioning in March for a May opening.
So, yeah.
Doesn't answer many questions - but at least I'm not sitting at home.
So Liv and I were walking back to our car after the Lake Dallas fireworks last night (which were wonderful, and we enjoyed), and as we were walking we saw a car that had obviously been scraped on the bumper by the truck pulling out behind it. The bumper had a 6 by 4 inch scratched fairly severely, but the bumper itself wasn't caved in or anything. Well, the driver of the truck pulled away after he scraped the car (which makes him a douche to be sure); the owner of the car saw this - and instead of getting the license plate, he chases down the truck, screaming at him. Well, the truck just drove off. So, of course he calls the cops, right? Nope. He jumps in his car, cuts off the long line of cars behind him, and barrels down the wrong side of the road at a fairly high rate of speed (did I mention that both sides of the road were fairly covered with pedestrians getting back to their own cars?). We don't know if he caught the truck or not - but he proved to be as big of a douche as the other driver.
Lesson of the day: Yes, it REALLY sucks when someone wings your car. However, endangering the lives of others is equally as bad. Next time, get the plate number and call the cops. Then, they'll still pay for your new bumper and you won't kill anyone.
OK, I think I've come to a sense of conclusion for my current situation. Yesterday, I updated my resume and sent it off to the AD, since I've not gotten any response from the director when I've sent messages. I also told him that this would be the last time I was bugging him, so that gets me off his back. Liv and I are going on vacation July 15, so if its not settled by then - then I guess its not meant to be.
Its very possible I may have lost a friend or two over this - but in the end, I'm starting to wonder if they ever thought of me as their friend; it occurs to me that I may have just been a commodity to this person. Its sad - but hey, not the first time I've lost a friend for a stupid reason. At the moment, I still hope this person is my friend.... but we shall see.
Over the next few days I'll be sending out cover letters and resumes to theatres - even if there's nothing open now, maybe they'll keep them on file for the future. And Liv and I have really talked - I think I might pursue some of the openings I see for touring companies.
On other news, Liv and I are going up to NY for 3 weeks starting July 15. It'll be nice to get out of the heat and see family. We're also going to try and spend a weekend at her family's camp in the Adirondacks... its really beautiful, and we love going up there.
Also, I'm starting to get a certain itch again - anyone out there want to work on adapting a Shakepeare play into a musical?
Not much new to report, per se. Still at a crossroads concerning what I am going to do with my theater future; I have talked to some people about it. What struck me the most was that while they tried to comfort me on the subject, there was nothing in the way of reassurance... not exactly confirming my concern, but adding weight to it.
In other news, new Star Wars book came out today and I will be eagerly devouring it soon.
Cats's first weekend went well, and I am actually looking forward to this coming weekend's set of shows - it'll be interesting to see how it ends up. In any case, I'm glad to have gotten this show, and have really enjoyed working with many of the people up in Gainesville.
I don't know if anyone actually reads this blog (me not updating for almost 2 months doesn't help, I know - but I was busy) so this might just be for my own mental health. But I'm at a junction, and I need to sound it out.
I've been out of work ever since getting my terminal degree in a field that I knew would be difficult to break into. Finding a job has been at times, heartbreaking and at other times frustrating at the extreme. But, this isn't totally what is on my mind; its more of a byproduct of that situation. In order to keep sane (and my skills up), I've thrown myself headfirst into being a musical director. For the past three years, I've been the primary music director at MTD, directing 6 of the last 9 shows. For 5 of those 6 shows, I got the position because I went to the director and begged, pleaded, or otherwise brought myself to the attention of the director; because there aren't too many other people, I've gotten the job. Over that time, I felt that I had presented a good product, even if other aspects of the show had possibly been lacking.
Over the past few weeks, some events have occurred that have shaken the perspective I have on my performance and the quality of the product I've presented. For the first time ever, I was part of a show (at least as far as I know) that was reviewed by a major player in the DFW theatre scene, and it was a positive review. What many other people didn't know (at least I didn't - and if others knew, they didn't bring it to my attention until an out of state friend showed it to me) was that there was a second review - one that was not only negative, it was downright mean. And they really really raked me over the coals. This in itself, while upsetting at the time, was something I've been able to deal with. There's scuttlebutt that the two anonymous reviewers might have had an axe to grind with some other people in the production, as well as the production itself and I might have been caught in that - but maybe not. And reading one of the comments in particular, it seems at least one other person agreed with the specific issues of the music direction.
This has been coupled with the issues I've felt over the past 6 or so months - whenever the conversation comes up of me getting a job outside of the metroplex and me moving away, I'm jokingly told that I can't move away, because "everyone needs me". I'm not sure how to take that - I'm needed supposedly, yet when the staff for each show is discussed, I get to sit and hear that "the minute we decided on this show, we asked X or Y to music direct", or if there is a spot open, my name is never brought up. I've spent the last three years building myself up as a music director, supposedly essential, but never considered for these spots. I guess that its a back-handed compliment that when there's no one else, I'm called in. But I'm sick of being that guy. It looks like in the fall, there exists the possibility that I will have to interview for a show opening. I know other people have been asked to MD this show (not necesarily by the director, but some people on the production board) - and they've all refused. Further, the director knows I'm interested, and I've had some friends "talk me up" to him, and yet he's ambivalent enough that if I want to be considered, I've got to interview.
In the end, I'm just wearied by thie whole mess. I'm sick of being emotional over this issue - I'm sick of not really knowing what people thing of me as a music director. I don't know if I possess the perspective anymore to judge how I am as a music director, or to judge the product that I produce. If I can't do that anymore, should I even be trying to find spots? Maybe I should face facts that I am a stick waver, and that I don't belong in a theatre anymore. Maybe I never belonged there in the first place.
The sticking point in my mind about this - for the first time, I don't feel all emotional about this. I don't know if that's a sign.
Best Score, Best Book, Best Musical, Best Featured Actor in a Musical
Winner of the 1996 Pulitzer Prize in Drama
(only 1 of 2 musicals since 1976 to win this award)
Characters
Mark Cohen (baritone): a student filmmaker, who is jaded against the “establishment”; ex-boyfriend of Maureen. Views life through the lens of his camera, sometimes losing the perspective “real life” affords.
Roger Davis (tenor): a sarcastic, cynical guitarist who has been diagnosed with HIV. He meets Mimi, and at first rejects her because of he drug habit. His goal is to write one last “perfect” song before he dies. They have reconciliation after he returns from fleeing to Santa Fe.
Mimi Márquez (mezzo soprano): an exotic dancer who is HIV positive. She meets Roger when the power is cut off to their building and she is looking for a way to light a candle. She is rejected by Roger at first because she is a drug addict, but they end up in a romantic relationship. She is found almost dead at the end of the production, but is guided back to life by a guardian “Angel” who tells her there is more life to live. MUST BE A DANCER.
Maureen Johnson (mezzo soprano): a performance artist who was formerly dating Mark, but she leaves him to be with Joanne. A spoiled brat, she constantly feuds with both Mark and JoAnne about the most minor of events.
Joanne Jefferson (mezzo/belter): a graduate of HarvardLawSchool, Joanne is a lesbian who is both dating and representing Maureen. As the oldest member of the group, Joanne often provides perspective that others seem to lack.
Angel Schunard (tenor): an HIV-positive drag queen who befriends Collins after he is mugged; they soon develop a strong romantic relationship. Angel is the peacemaker of the group until he dies. When Mimi is on the brink of death, she claims to see Angel, urging her to “go back and listen to that boy’s song.” The boy is Roger, and the song he sings is his “perfect” song – which is about his love for her.
Tom Collins (baritone): sometimes activist, anarchist, and philosophy professor that has worked at various institutions both within and outside New York. He is a staunch AIDS activist who is responsible for the destruction of the NYU virtual reality equipment as it broadcast a message urging people to “fight AIDS”. He falls in love with Angel after he rescues him from a mugging.
Benjamin “Benny” Coffin III (baritone): a former member of the group, Benny married into money and bought the building that Mark, Roger, and Mimi reside in. He is the main antagonist of the show, constantly harassing others by cutting off power and heat to the apartment building. It is implied that he had an improper relationship at one time with Mimi, something she tries (unsuccessfully) to keep from Roger.
Chorus: 10-12 men and women who portray various members of society – businessmen, street people, etc.
Synopsis
Act I
Mark, a filmmaker and the show's narrator, is spending a cold Christmas Eve in the Lower East Side industrial loft he shares with his roommate Roger, a musician. They receive several phone calls (TUNE UP/VOICE MAIL #1). The first is from Mark's mother consoling him over the loss of his girlfriend Maureen, a performance artist, to JoAnne, a HarvardLawSchool graduate. The second is from their friend Tom Collins who is detained by muggers. The last is from their landlord Benny demanding the rent. The power blows and so do Roger and Mark's tops (RENT).
Outside, Collins is reeling from the mugging. He is comforted by Angel, a street musician, who offers him a helping hand (YOU OKAY HONEY?). Both HIV+, Angel and Collins head out for a night on the town and a life support meeting.
In response to a call for help, Mark sets out for the lot where Maureen is performing a protest against Benny's eviction of the homeless from a nearby lot. He urges Roger to come along but he refuses. As Mark reports, Roger has not left the apartment in six months. He is still reeling from the suicide of his girlfriend, who slashed her wrists upon learning that she had AIDS. Roger tries to write a song but the only melody he finds is "Musetta's Waltz" from Puccini's La Boheme (ONE SONG GLORY).
Mimi, an S&M dancer who lives below Mark and Roger, knocks with a request: LIGHT MY CANDLE. The attraction between she and Roger is immediate, but Roger shies away and shows her the door. Mimi knocks again. She has lost her stash. Roger helps her look and Mimi eventually finds it- in Roger's back pocket.
As Joanne wrangles with the sound equipment for Maureen's performance, her parents leave her VOICE MAIL #2, pleading with her to come to her mother's confirmation hearings in Washington. Collins arrives at the loft with a bag full of goodies. This includes Angel, transvested into Angel Dumott Shunard and gloriously arrayed in his Christmas finest- wig, glitter, and platform pumps. In TODAY 4 U, Angel explains how he earned $1,000: a wealthy woman hired him to play the drums until her neighbor's yappy Akita barked itself to death.
Benny enters with a proposal (YOU'LL SEE): if Mark and Roger stop Maureen's protest, he will forgo the rent. He entices them with plans for Cyber Arts, a state-of-the-art, multimedia studio that will realize all of their dreams. Unsuccessful, Benny leaves. Mark, Collins and Angel try to coax Roger into coming to the life support meeting with them but he refuses.
Mark finally reaches the lot where Maureen will perform her protest. He encounters Joanne, still struggling with the sound equipment and the many demands Maureen makes upon her. Mark offers help. Though they dreaded meeting, they have a lot in common (TANGO: MAUREEN). Once he finishes, Mark joins Angel and Collins at the LIFE SUPPORT meeting.
In her apartment, Mimi dresses and appeals to an imaginary Roger to take her OUT TONIGHT. She barges into his apartment and continues her appeal to Roger himself but after a passionate kiss he vehemently rejects her. They fight, her words blending with the affirmation of the support group that emphasizes the importance of living the moment (ANOTHER DAY). A young man from the support group asks quietly "Will I lose my dignity/Will someone care?" (WILL I?). His thoughts and fears are echoed by each member of the community. The thoughts are Roger's too, and he decides to go outside.
After the meeting, Mark, Angel and Collins roam the lot and rescue a homeless woman from the taunts and nightsticks of the neighborhood cops (ON THE STREET). Discouraged by life in New York, the three dream of opening up a restaurant in SANTA FE. Alone at last, Angel and Collins finally express their love for each other (I'LL COVER YOU). Joanne, meanwhile has her hands full juggling work, parents, and the ever-demanding Maureen...all over the phone(WE'RE OKAY).
The scene changes to St. Mark's Place where vendors hawk their wares to the bohemians of the EastVillage (CHRISTMAS BELLS). Angel buys a new coat for Collins. Mark finds Roger who spots Mimi looking for drugs. Roger apologizes and asks her to dinner. Just as the snow begins to fall, Maureen finally appears on her motorcycle to perform her protest, OVER THE MOON.
Following the protest, all convene at the Life Café, including Benny who announces that Bohemia is dead. Thus ensues a makeshift mock-wake that quickly segues into a celebration of LA VIE BOHEME. During the song, Benny confronts Mimi and threatens to reveal their past affair to Roger. Beepers go off to remind the revelers to take their AZT. Roger and Mimi each discover that the other is HIV+. Frightened, excited, they vow to be together (I SHOULD TELL YOU).
Joanne has been sent back to the lot by Maureen several times to check on the equipment. She finally rebels, telling Maureen that their relationship is over and announcing a riot in the lot: Benny has padlocked the building and called the cops but the homeless are standing their ground and mooing. The artists rejoice, the riot continues, and Roger and Mimi share a small, lovely kiss.
ACT II
The second act begins with the company posing the question, "How do you measure a year in the life?" (SEASONS OF LOVE). It is one week later, New Year's Eve, and Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, Angel and Collins are having a breaking-back-into-the-building party (HAPPY NEW YEAR). Once inside, Mark listens to one more phone message from his mother in Scarsdale as well as one from Alexi Darling, a tabloid TV producer salivating over his footage of the riot (VOICE MAIL #3). Benny crashes the party, angering Roger and alienating Roger from Mimi. Dejected, Mimi wanders outside and into the welcoming arms of her drug dealer.
Mark fast forwards to Valentine's Day. Roger and Mimi are still together. Angel and Collins could be anywhere. Maureen and Joanne are still rehearsing another show, but it is not going well (TAKE ME OR LEAVE ME).
The company reprises SEASONS OF LOVE and time marches forward again, to spring. Roger and Mimi have a fight and Roger walks out. Alone, Mimi reflects on what life would be like without Roger (WITHOUT YOU). At the same time, Collins nurses a sick Angel; Maureen and Joanne reconcile; as do Mimi and Roger.
At the end of the summer, Alexi is still courting Mark for her TV show (VOICE MAIL #4). Roger and Mimi, unsatisfied by love's complications, break up, as do Maureen and Joanne. Angel dies (CONTACT). At a memorial service, his friends remember his spirit. Collins remembers his love (I'LL COVER YOU: REPRISE).
Outside the church, Mark phones Alexi to accept the job. Mark ponders how life has changed since last year as he recalls the joys of that one night last Christmas (HALLOWEEN). As the mourners leave the church, Mimi confirms that Roger has sold his guitar and is leaving town. Roger confirms that Mimi is now with Benny. A fight erupts among Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Benny, and Joanne Collins interrupts them with the sorrowful reality that the family is breaking up. Joanne and Maureen reunite. Mimi and Benny leave.
Mark tries to convince Roger to stay in New York and face his pain and the fact that Mimi is very sick. Roger attacks Mark, accusing him of hiding from his feelings. Mimi enters, having overheard the entire angry exchange, and bids Roger farewell (GOODBYE, LOVE). Roger leaves town. Mimi turns to Mark for help. Benny offers one helping hand to Mimi and extends the other to Collins to help him pay Angel's funeral expenses. Mimi refuses the help and flees. Collins accepts and he and Benny go out for a drink.
Mark considers the events and faces the last year, as does Roger, who is on his way to Santa Fe. Roger begins to discover his own song and Mark turns down the television job to finish his own film (WHAT YOU OWN).
Roger's mom, Mark's mom, Mimi's mom, and JoAnne's father all wonder where their children are (VOICE MAIL #5). Back at the loft, Mark tells us again it's Christmas and he now has a rough version of his film, which he's going to show tonight. Roger has returned, has written his song, but cannot find Mimi. Collins enters with money he has gotten from an ATM rewired to give money to anyone with a special code. The password? Angel.
Maureen and Joanne suddenly arrive holding Mimi, whom they found collapsed and near death in the park. Roger begs her not to die and sings for her the song it has taken him all year to write, YOUR EYES. Mimi dies as Roger wails her name over a blast of Puccini's music. Suddenly Mimi awakens, it seems that a guardian Angel was watching over her.
The company joins in a reprise of the affirmation that love is all and that there is "no day but today" (FINALE).
Something that has been bugging me for a while is how arts are perceived amongst certain people who consider themselves "in the know". I'm sure this is an equivalent problem in all disciplines; however, the issue is a bit more complex in the arts world where more can be based on value judgments. However, I'm not concerned about this phenomenon as much as I am concerned with the objective nature of the field.
There is a difference between things I "like" or "not like" and things I consider good. I may like a certain concert or performance because of different things: I like the music, it is pleasing to my ears; the production is visually pleasing, etc. These things are personal to me and my subjective experience; the feelings (and words) I express may or may not be valid to anyone else - and holding a subjective interpretation against someone is not only pointless, but it is also mean. However, there is a much more objective aspect to performing arts as well - was the work or play or music performed to the specifications and expectations of the creator? In performing Beethoven, is it permissible to make cuts to the music? How about a lesser known composer such as William Schuman? Is it allowed then? Or, delving into even more murky waters, is it permissible to cut Shakespeare? Or even to reword his plays to heighten a certain aspect? Or, on an even more modern stage, is it acceptable to change a work by Sondheim, or Schwartz to fit another's "vision"?
I realize that in some instances, the second example is the most tenuous of them all - not really with Shakespeare, but translations; one person may translate a foreign language text differently than another; inevitably different productions will arise. But I believe I am more concerned with the first and third examples. In the first case it is normally unthinkable to make changes in the canon of the symphonic genre. In the third case, it happens with more and more regularity. Directors pick and choose songs, make cuts at the barest whim - and present it as their "reimagining" of the property; or even worse, they claim they have "improved" upon the original.
As a professional musician and artist, this arrogance sits very poorly with me. Frankly, if a creator of a show had particular thoughts on whether something "worked" or not - things would not have been written as they were. So, why is it that so many people feel that they know more than some of these creators? These authors and composers, in most cases, have had thousands and thousands of performances. To sit and say that one person can objectively judge subjective matters not only degrades that performance, but also calls into question everything else that person has done. And don't feed me the line of "well, if we don't do it - the audience will be bored". That is even more perposterous than anything else; frankly, if you cannot performevery note and say every word without the fear of boring your audience, then not only have you picked the wrong property, but you might possibly be in the wrong field of the performing arts.
Hello - had to run some auditions this week, so I missed (ie: forgot) Theatre Tuesday. So, here it is, only a few days late:
Kismet Book by Charles Lederer and Luther Davis Music and Lyrics by George Forrest and Robert Wright Based on the music of Alexander Borodin*
*The derivation of musical numbers in Kismet from Borodin's music is given partially as follows:
Act I "Sands Of Time":In The Steppes of Central Asia "Fate": Symphony No. 2, 1st movement, opening theme "Bazaar of The Caravans": Symphony No. 2, 4th movement, opening theme; Prince Igor, No. 17,"Polovetsian Dances, Wild Dance of the Men "Not Since Nineveh": Prince Igor, No. 1 (Prologue) & No. 17, "Polovetsian Dances" (introductory theme) "Baubles, Bangles, and Beads": Prince Igor, No. 2a and 2f (Skula and Yeroshka's music); String Quartet No. 2, 2nd Movement (Scherzo), secondary theme "Strangers in Paradise": Prince Igor, No. 17, "Polovetsian Dances", Gliding Dance of the Maidens "He's In Love!": Prince Igor, No. 17, "Polovetsian Dances", General Dance (D Major) "Gesticulate": Prince Igor, No. 15, "Aria of Khan Konchak"; Symphony No. 1, 4th Movement, opening theme
Act II
"Night of My Nights": "Sérénade" from Petite Suite for piano "And This is My Beloved": Prince Igor, No. 14 (Ovlur's theme); String Quartet No. 2, 3rd Movement (Notturno, originally in 3/4 meter), opening theme "The Olive Tree": Prince Igor, No. 23, Trio (also used in the opera's overture) "Zubediya" and "Samaris' Dance": Prince Igor, No. 2b, Song of Vladimir of Galich & No. 17, "Polovetsian Dances", Dance of the Boys and Men
Winner of 3 Tony Awards: Best Actor, Best Musical, Best Musical Conductor (retired award)
Kismet opened at the Ziegfeld Theatre in New York City on December 3, 1953 and ran for 583 performances.
Synopsis (from MTI):
At dawn outside a mosque in eleventh century Baghdad, we meet an old man, the Imam of the Mosque, who descends the steps with lantern in hand and looks to the stars. He sings "Sands of Time." Four muezzins appear, calling the faithful to prayers in song, and waking several beggars who complain of the noise and then more generally of the rigors of a beggar's life: "Get up! Start suffering!" As the beggars begin their day's work, some whirling dervishes appear, as does Omar Khayyam, Court Poet of the Calyph of Baghdad and the author of the Rubaiyat. Omar is disappointed to find that Hajj, his regular beggar, is traveling to Mecca. He withholds the coin from the others: "I'm too old to switch beggars now."
A cry is heard from afar: "It's the public poet," cries a beggar, "Hide your money!" The Poet sings, "Rhymes Have I," designed to loose a coin from the tightest grasp. He brings his daughter, who appears in rags and smudged face, to help close the sale and secure a breakfast for them both. Despite their efforts the beggars walk away: "A man can sell anything in the world except poems." He sends his daughter off to market to steal oranges.
The Poet sits on the steps of the Mosque and is approached by a beggar who tells him to move, since he's sitting in the best begging spot in Baghdad which is reserved for the return of old Hajj. Omar returns also surprised to find someone sitting in Hajj's spot. The poet claims to be Hajj's cousin and thus a rightful place-keeper for Hajj. He gives him a coin. A fig seller arrives and the Poet first begs for a fig and then issues a stream of curses until he relents. The Poet seems to have found a new calling. He sings "Fate." "Fate can play a trick with the twine/ to weave the evil and good in one design." Hassan-Ben, a henchman for the evil Master Brigand Jawan, enters looking for Hajj. The Poet again identifies himself thus, and Hassan-Ben roars with rage, throws a bag over his head and carries the Poet away.
In the desert, Master Brigand Jawan crouches over a red-hot charcoal brazier. We are in the hastily assembled desert encampment of Jawan, a fierce, elderly assassin and caravan robber. Hassan-Ben enters carrying the Poet. Jawan wants 'Hajj' to remove the curse that caused Jawan's son to be stolen many years ago. The Poet offers to remove the curse but reminds him that it must be done voluntarily and only adequate payment will do the trick. He pays and the Poet sings of his newfound wealth in a reprise of "Fate."
Around a group of caravans just outside the city, tradesmen of every description - including a merchant with four pretty, largely naked, dancing slave girls -- occupy the camp. They all sing "Bazaar of Caravans." Their bacchanalia ends with the arrival of the Wazir of Police. Porcine and petulant, he is menacing but oafish. Always the butt of jibes from any crowd, his threat to have his men break some teeth is interrupted by his wife's grand entrance. She arrives in a silk-draped litter carried by half-naked slave men. She is clothed lightly in silk and scented oil; this is the lascivious and libidinous Lalume. She eyes the new slave hungrily but is interrupted by the Wazir who, deep in debt, demands to know if she's secured a loan. She hasn't, but she has been promised ten camels loaded with riches if they can marry three Ababunian princesses to the Commander of the Faithful, our hero the noble Caliph himself. The princesses appear, young and fierce, brandishing swords in an exotic dance. They fall prostrate at the Wazir's feet. Unfortunately their language is all but unintelligible; it is clear, however, that they are homesick and unhappy Baghdad. Lalume and the Wazir desperately try to convince the young princesses of Baghdad's charms singing "Not Since Nineveh," to entice them to stay.
As they all exit, the merchants resume crying their wares. Marsinah, the Poet's daughter runs by with her stolen oranges, pursued by the orange merchant. The Poet enters and knocks the merchant down, who runs off in search of police. The Poet asks Marsinah what she would desire if she could have anything in the world. "Breakfast!" she answers unequivocally. Her father suggests that she should bigger, then gives her his gold. She's overwhelmed as all the merchants gather round to gawk at her riches. She dreams of a life of luxury as the merchants dress her; they sing "Baubles, Bangles and Beads."
The Caliph admires Marsinah from afar. Omar tells the Caliph to remember the ancient rule about falling in love "If you fall in love in Baghdad-get thee to Damascus. If you fall in love in Damascus -get thee to Baghdad." Marsinah reappears dressed provocatively; the transformation is stunning. The song rises to a climax, Marsinah and others exit, followed by the Caliph, in a trance.
It is a beautiful garden outside the widow Yussef's house, the home Marsinah has long coveted. The garden features a flowering mulberry tree and a small stone bench with a well beside it. Marsinah asks the widow if the house is for sale. Of course it is - it's a musical! The widow exits. Marsinah rhapsodizes about how her family could grow here in this garden. The Caliph arrives and they sing "Stranger in Paradise." They embrace.
The Poet appears on a side street lolling upon a richly cushioned Oriental rickshaw pulled by four beautiful slave girls. He wears a golden turban and a tunic of cloth of gold; he puffs on a hookah. The Wazir's police intercept him and ask his identity. He pauses and then offers a bribe if they'll go away. Their leader seizes his purse and sees that it has the mark of the house of Achmed, who was robbed by Jawan the Brigand. They arrest him and he lamely cries that it's all a mistake, that he's a poet. They demand a poem, he offers one of his lesser efforts and they take him off to the Wazir.
In the throne room of the Wazir of Police; we see the Wazir pacing in front of his throne, the Three Princesses of Ababu are having their hair done. The rivals for the Caliph's hand are presented to the Wazir, each more deserving than the last. Lalume enters to find a despairing Wazir. He opens his Court of Justice to cheer himself up. The Poet is brought before him, who proceeds to throw himself on the Wazir's mercy and to fawn over Lalume. The Poet proclaims his innocence, relating how he earned the gold pieces by removing a curse from Jawan's household. The unimpressed Wazir sentences him to having his right hand cut off. The Poet complains that a poet needs his hand to tell his tales in the song "Gesticulate," throughout which he continues to flirt with Lalume. The Wazir is still unimpressed and as the guards take him off to his fate, the Poet curses the Wazir with all his might.
Suddenly, Jawan is brought before the Wazir and confirms that he had paid the Poet for removing the curse. He continues, complaining that he still hadn't found his son, when he notices the amulet round the Wazir's neck. He produces a matching amulet. Jawan has found his son! "Of course," says the Poet. But wait, the Wazir recalls that the Poet had cursed him and, yet, it seems to have had no effect.
The Caliph bursts in announcing that he's chosen a wife, a wife other than the Ababuh princesses. This is unhappy news indeed for the Wazir and his wife. The Caliph leaves and the Wazir finally impressed with the Poet's powers and convinced that he can use them to stop the Caliph's wedding, grants the Poet the title of Emir. The Wazir is called to confer with a committee of his creditors. The Poet continues to flirt with Lalume and they kiss with considerable enthusiasm. A commotion ensues outside. The Caliph intends to be married right away and is going to claim his bride. The Wazir returns with his entourage and threatens to skewer the Poet unless he does his magic right away. The Poet spins an elaborate verse and sings a reprise of "Fate." His masterful verse has entranced all those present. And as Lalume 'helps' the Wazir to participate in the song by bowing his head, the Poet sneaks out of a side window.
Outside the Widow Yussef's house at moonrise, the Caliph and Omar are preparing for his marriage. The Caliph sings "Night of My Nights." Guests arrive with the wedding finery. The Caliph dons a plain "incognito" cloak and leaves. Marsinah enters and sings a reprise of "Stranger in Paradise." Her father the Poet arrives, gives her 90 gold pieces and tells her she must escape to Damascus immediately, as her life is at risk. She tries to tell him that she's to be wed but, as he is her father, she agrees, hugs him and they both leave in tears. The Caliph and his entourage appear. Caliph tells them to hide themselves until he signals them with the loud snap from the closing of a large silver box filled with jewels for his bride. He sings a reprise of "Baubles, Bangles and Beads." The widow Yussef enters and mistakes the Caliph for a merchant, then, realizing her mistake begs for forgiveness. He grants it and asks if she has seen Marsinah. She tells him that Marsinah had just been here in the embrace of another man. Heartbroken, the Caliph has everyone return to the Palace, feigning happiness, so no one will know that there is no bride.
The chief of police is waiting impatiently in an anteroom of the Wazir's harem. The Wazir and Lalume rush in. The policeman confirms that spies from all over the city also report that there is not bride. He gestures to three large pots in the background from which rise three black-hooded spies. The Wazir has already heard reports that the Caliph was married, as evidenced by the jovial return of his entourage to the Palace. "A subterfuge," reveals the policeman as he relates that the 'commoner' bride never appeared.
The Wazir is overjoyed, sends for the Poet to receive his reward and sings how his subtlety has gotten him where he is today in "Was I Wazir." The Poet arrives and the Wazir gives him a crown, a mirror to admire himself and attendants to satisfy every want. Omar enters and the Poet greets him in verse. Omar notes that an Emir who is a poet is rare indeed. The Poet agrees, bragging that someday he will supplant the royal 'old' poet, Omar Khayyam. He continues his insults until he finally realizes to whom he is speaking. "Omar, my friend, there is always something to be learned-even from fools. He sings "The Olive Tree."
On a terrace atop the Wazir's harem, open to the stars, the Poet is wearing the Emir's Crown. Lalume has been instructed by her husband the Wazir to 'delight' the Poet. All is right with the world and they and the harem girls sing "Rahadlakum" [Turkish Delight]. The girls leave and the Poet and Lalume discuss where to vent their lust, just as the Wazir is heard coming down the hall. The Poet dives behind the divan. The Wazir cannot find the Poet, when suddenly he pops up, as if by magic, from where he is hiding. "Where did you come from? That would be hard to explain-to a layman." The Wazir leaves, reminding Lalume to keep the Poet happy, and Marsinah enters. The Poet introduces his daughter and Lalume leaves to make arrangements for her quarters. Marsinah explains that she's in love but that now she cannot have him. The Poet offers that all he has as Emir is hers, but she is heartbroken. Just beyond their hearing the Caliph enters and, giving a poetic if vague description orders his guards to find his missing love in "And This is My Beloved." As they sing, they remain just unaware of the other.
In the anteroom of the Wazir's harem, the Caliph is rhapsodizing, again, to the Wazir about his lost love. The Wazir tries to console him by offering to peek through a secret mirror into his harem. Though disgusted by this peeping, he looks just as Marsinah is looking for her quarters. The Caliph mistakenly believes that she is just a harem girl and, therefor, unworthy to be his wife. He instructs the Wazir to bring all candidates for his marriage to the Caliph's Diwan tonight and leaves. The Wazir believes that the Poet must have arranged it to clear the way for the Caliph's marriage to the Ababu princesses. He instructs the chief policeman to note his marriage to Marsinah a month ago. When she hears of his plans, Marsinah threatens to kill herself rather than submit.
The Caliph's Great Audience Hall-a royal, very spacious chamber-dominated by a grand throne, a large bathing pool and fountain in the center of the room, all the nobles of Baghdad have gathered, including the Wazir and Lalume. Omar makes a grand entrance and introduces the Caliph, who takes his place on the throne. The marital candidates are paraded before the Caliph: the beauteous Princesses of Zanzibar and Turkestan perform exotic belly dances. Finally, the three Princesses of Ababu appear, promising that each has committed to marry that third of him that each can serve best. Their dance demonstrates what they mean.
As Omar reads a selection from his Rubaiyat, Wazir tells the Poet about the circumstances surrounding his 'marriage' to Marsinah. He's stunned. The Wazir misunderstands his reaction and tells him not to worry as he plans to poison her tonight. In a fury, the Poet reaches for his knife, then, noticing the pool thinks of a better plan and returns it to its scabbard. Getting everyone's attention, the Poet holds an empty plaque aloft walks to the pool and sits on the lip. "I will throw this empty plaque into the pool . . . When fetched from the water, this magic plaque will be inscribed with the name of the bride our Caliph will choose! (Unseen by all but the audience, he writes 'Ababu' on an identical plaque and instructs the Wazir to hide it in his boot.) The Poet has the lights dimmed, throws the empty plaque in, and then grabs the Wazir's foot, holding his head under water. In verse the Poet describes the Wazir's crimes and asks the Caliph what sentence such crimes would garner. "Death." "I thank you for your verdict! It has been carried out." The Wazir has drowned. The Poet throws the foot into the pool and runs out in darkness. The light returns, Marsinah is brought in followed by the Poet. The lovers are reunited but the Caliph could not possibly have a criminal as...a...father-in-law! They all join in the "Finale," singing "Lovers come, Lovers go/ and all that there is to know/ Lovers know ...only lovers know!"
Orchestration:
Flute (doubling Piccolo) Oboe (doubling English Horn) Clarinet I & II Bass Clarinet Bassoon
2 Horns 3 Trumpets 2 Trombone Tuba
Harp Percussion
4 Violins Viola Cello Bass
Casting:
6 men, 4 women, with a large chorus. There is a large amount of dancing required for both principals and chorus.
I finally saw Watchmen today - only 3 or so weeks after it came out. I really liked it; there were some changes and deletions from the graphic novel - some I liked, some not so much. The ending changes in means, but the end is the same (hence, the end is met by different means). It bothered me that instead of aliens, the world is united against one of the protagonists (who is deeply flawed, so he may or may not care). All in all, I really liked the sub-plot of the Silk Spectre (II) falling for the Nite Owl (II); I thought that they were the most complex (and believable) characters of the entire movie. Likewise, I felt that Rorschach was music more... human. In the graphic novel, he's almost a stereotype - a Haemon-like character in his blind devotion to what he believes is moral and right. The movie softens him somewhat, and makes his ultimate scene a little more compassionate.
Sometimes people need to learn that you cannot be everything to them at once.
It does not make the relationship any less powerful, but it does shine a rather bright spotlight on the boundaries.
Same goes with pleasing everyone - and that's where it seems to hurt the most. When you can't be everything and you're held responsible for it, what kind of friend does that make them?
I have always had this fascination with thunderstorms. When I was a young kid in Tucson, I always remember the monsoon season we'd get - it would be sunny at 2pm, furious storm at 3pm, and sunny again at 4pm. The sudden appearance of the storm would be a treat in itself; the clouds would build straight up thousands of feet in the air (at the time I had no concept of dry lines or anything weather related like that) and produce massive storms. There were at least three times that I can remember of the street being struck by lightning. The downpours were bad enough that the city had build a series of aqueducts in the alleyways to handle all the runoff.
Then we moved to upstate NY, where there was a distinct lack of weather patterns conducive to lightning; they occurred, but not remotely the same way that they were in AZ. Most of the time the lightning was not visible, all you got was the rumble of thunder. Moving to TX for grad work give me the chance to see real lightning storms again - of course, now with the chance of tornadoes... interesting trade off.
The first three or so years we were down here, the weather in the spring did not disappoint. Then we had a couple of dry springs, and they waned a bit. This spring looks like it may turn out to be a nice one - we've already had a few, and they've been pretty good. In fact, we're having one right now - M says its freaking her out because it rattles her work windows - but I still like it.
