Back in Fairyland as an Adult Fairy

So I've been re-reading the Oz books and am amazed by Baum's wit, humor, and really American insight. It makes me realize where some of my ambitions as a playwright come from, because even though they are "traditional" fairy tales, they are absolutely American. E.g. even though the fairy tale narrative has European (largely German) roots, these stories are definitely about and for American children. It makes me believe that some people get that I'm trying to take the falseness of the American narrative (that it's all about WASP men) and rework it to actually represent the multi- cultural, gendered, and spiritual America that we actually live in.

I finished The Road to Oz (book 5) yesterday. Here are my thoughts so far on the first three in the series...

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Pretty damn great. Especially the parts that aren't in the movie. Especially the parts where Dorothy is an ingenious girl and not just some simpering wimp. Especially the honesty of the Wizard and his humbug.

The Marvelous Land of Oz

Holy gender politics, Batman! An army of girls taking over the Emerald City because no one suspects that they can? A male to female transexual who is crowned a Princess after sucessfully transitioning? The day saved once again by the most powerful figure in Oz, the Sorceress Glinda (a woman)? Was this book really written in 1904? And let's not forget Mr. H.M. Wogglebug T.E. - priceless critique of higher education.

Ozma of Oz

I really love this story, mostly because I love the Nome King going from grinning Santa Clause to evil, conniving trickster. And I like when he swears. "Rocketty rickets! Smudge and blazes!" and, of course:

"Hippikaloric!" which must be a dreadful word because we don't know what it means.

And Billina and her 'tude are truly priceless. Baum loves the strong women as much as I do, doesn't he?

I Watch Too Many Movies

Some Netflix from the past week...

Team America: World Police

So right on in so many ways, as encapsulated in Team America: World Police's theme song:

America, FUCK YEAH!
Coming again, to save the motherfucking day!

Satire doesn't get funnier or simpler than that. My only gripes? F.A.G. - I mean, really? Hollywood is so homophobic.

The Flower of My Secret (La flor de mi secreto)

Alex brought home some mid-to-late career Almodovar (relative to now; it could be the beginning of his career if he keeps producing for the next 20 years, but...uh, never mind). While this one lacked the dynamism, gritty insight, and heart-tugging complexity of current Almodovar (I'm thinking All About My Mother, Talk to Her, and Bad Education), it was a whole lot of fun. I especially liked the ambiguous writing identity/ties of the main character, Leo, not only when she refused to avow her pseudonyms, but also when she refused to disavow authorship of the screenplay.

I also liked how these multiple identities were all over The Flower of My Secret: dearest friend/other woman, household help/accomplished artist, dutiful son/roguish thief, by-the-book editor/ghost writer, bickering relations/loving mother and daughter. Secrets are fun! Throw in some flower imagery and you've got a theme!

But did Angel seem really gay to anyone but me?

Baum Mot

Polly advanced rather shyly.

"You have some queer friends, Dorothy," she said.

"The queerness doesn't matter so long as they're friends," was the answer.

- from The Road to Oz, L. Frank Baum

Tumatakbo ang lalaki, tumatakbo...

I spent last weekend with my mom and aunt in Boston, where they were attending a nursing conference. Well, really my mom was attending, my aunt is retired and just wanted to hang out with her sister.

While we were there, we went to a mall (which is what my mom does - shop) and saw one of those Rosetta Stone kiosks. And - what do you know? - two months ago they released Tagalog, Level 1. My mom bought it for me, and Alex and I have been learning Tagalog.

Now, I'm not one for plugging stuff on my blog, but I have been trying to find a way to learn my family's native tongue for some time. I've tried all kinds of tapes and books that haven't really worked. But somehow, this is.

It's funny, because I feel like a total 3 year old saying stuff like: ang dilaw na kotse (the yellow car) or lumalangoy ang isda (the fish swims). But then I think, "Um, isn't that when I learned English? And wasn't I reading One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish when I was 5?"

Anyway, I'm not even through with Unit 1, and I already feel like I can recommend this software. It's supercool.

Mission Impossible III

I also forgot to mention that I saw M-I:III while I was in Boston (my mom loves spy movies).

I thought it was pretty darn good, to be honest. As much as I want to stop supporting the crazy Mr. Cruise, this was in fact a good flick. I totally didn't see the twist (the post-shooting one, not the first one) coming. And that scene where Billy Crudup is saying one thing but mouthing another - AWESOME.

I hope that Crazy Cruise backs of on the Scientology, though, and the couch-jumping. I mean, believe what you want to believe, but don't try to force me to. You know? Why do actors always think they're so enlightened and smart? They didn't get famous for being enlightened and smart. They got famous for looking pretty and working hard. So just look pretty and work hard, okay?

DOUBLE FEATURE - The Earth in Jeopardy!

X-Men: The Last Stand

Sigh...

So I grew up on X-books, by which I mean I didn't only read The Uncanny X-Men, but I also read X-Men, X-Factor, The New Mutants, X-Force, Excalibur, Generation X, and sometimes even Wolverine and Cable. I was lately even breaking my "I'm too old for comics" rule and picking up X-Statix - but more for the Peter Milligan than for the X.

So what to say about X3 except that I was sorely disappointed. I didn't hate it, but it really made me understand how hard it was to make the first two X-Men movies. They had to make the stories movie-sized. They had to own the characters while keeping them within the spirit of their comic book versions. And they had to balance the ethical dilemmas with the comic book ass-kicking. The only thing that X3 did successfully among all of these things was the ass-kicking part.

The stories and characters were so warped and distorted that they were unrecognizable. Probably the worst of these distortions was the transformation of the ultimate comic book story of absolute power corrupting absolutely into a vaguely misogynist, completely worn-out hysterical woman piece of hogwash.

I liked watching Beast fight. I liked watching Kitty outwit the Juggernaut. I liked Angel. I liked that Bobby turned to ice, even though the Iceman/Pyro fight was super short and super lame. I hated the new Callisto. I hated the Magneto abandoning Mystique just so she could betray him. I hated all the stuff with the Beast and the President. I hated the way they did the unethical Professor X (um...there's plenty of unethical Charlie in the comics, couldn't you take your cue from there?). I hated all of the nonsensical killing and power deprivation. I hated that the Juggernaut was a mutant. Ugh...I could go on forever.

Brett Ratner sucks ass. And for all the Asian and Asian-American actors he's hired, he's pretty damn racist. Ever seen a minstrel show Brett? That's who you are, dumbass. A producer of minstrel shows.

An Inconvenient Truth

I'll admit it. I was like, "Okay, okay - I'll see the Al Gore movie because I should, not because I want to." Well, let me tell you: you want to see it.

It's good. He's entertaining and charismatic and passionate. All of the things you wished he would have been in the 2000 election. It really makes you think: global warning and saving the Earth is something he understands. Power plays and politics, maybe it's just not what he's for. I'm thinking Carter in China stuff here.

The movie was so informative and inspiring. Of course, it's hard as a car-less New Yorker who hates air conditioning, already uses energy efficient light bulbs and appliances, and whose boyfriend planted a tree this year to use less CO2, but it was good to watch. Mostly, because I think that people who don't do all those things will respond to it and understand what he's saying about global warming and why. And they won't despair because of it.

Do I think it will actually get people to make demands of car-makers and start carpooling? I guess not. But I do think it will make populist America start supporting the people who do instad of ridiculing them, and that's a good step.

TMBG Flashback!

I love They Might Be Giants. I mean, contemporary indie rock can keep on trying, but it doesn't get any better than TMBG (am I really as old as that sounds?).

When you're following an angel
Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?
Somewhere they're meeting on a pinhead
Calling you an angel, calling you the nicest things
I heard they had a space program
When the sing you can't hear, there's no air
Sometimes I think I kind of like that and
Other times I think I'm already there

Ummm...

There's really nothing to say about this pic. He's just hot.

Theatre Round-Up

One more theatre entry, for two shows I saw this past weekend. Both of these were by Ma-Yi colleagues.

Worth

Likes: some strong writing with some interesting scenes, great performances by the young woman in the main part and by the almost step-mother, and lots of interesting bicultural experiences going on.

Dislikes: direction that was all over the place in terms of location/environment, the strength of the writing was inconsistent, and I wasn't entirely sure about what the playwright was trying to convey in the stripping scenes.

I am particularly sensitive about sex/sexual situations in plays because I am constantly under scrutiny regarding the necessity of sexual situations in my plays. So when the two strip scenes in Worth by Suzanne Lee were happening, I was taken out of the play a little bit asking: where do these scenes fit in the larger action? I know what stripping is so exposition and environment doesn't seem like enough of a reason; is there a deeper one? It's not just that I'm uncomfortable seeing booty get shaken in front of my face (of course I was in the front row - HA!), it's that I want to know why it's being done instead of having to figure it out on my own.

All that said, when the writing was strong, boy was it ever. There was a really great scene when the main character's stripper cousin is being confronted by the main character's step-mother. The revelations about the step-mother and the stripper cousin's self-image were expertly crafted.

Living Dead in Denmark

This was a Vampire Cowboys piece by Qui Nguyen. I saw a little showcase type thing of the work back in May and have been eager to see one of their pieces full-on.

So this was pretty awesome in terms of creativity and ideas and total comic book geek fun. I really do recommend that any theatre person that loves zombie/vampire/werewolf slaying sees something by the Vampire Cowboys. The show had so much fun good vs. evil, ass-kicking chick stuff for the literate hipster crew that it was hard not to enjoy it.

My two complaints: the direction - while smooth and efficient - was kind of uninspired, and it was a little long. There were definitely scenes I could have done without and subplots that weren't as essential to my understanding of the play. And it was directed with this really high school theatre kind of lights up, blackout, lights up, blackout, scene shift, lights up, blackout action that got tedious. The play had a heavy dose of Shakespearean influence; it would have been nice if the quick scene shifts of his plays were present here, too.

I May be Mad / I May Be Blind / I May be Visciously Unkind

Columbinus

This was 3 of 3 from last weekend.

Let's just say The Laramie Project, it ain't.

Before I get all into it, some "you should knows" - which aren't exactly disclaimers, because I don't think of them as excuses. These are just a few facts to give you some context for my experience. On April 20, 1999 I was spending my second day on the couch and home sick from my day job. Being the early riser that I am, I turned on CNN as the school shootings were happening and remained riveted to the television for the entire day, er...okay, I admit, the entire week.

Earlier that year, I saw JoAnne Akalitis' The Iphigenia Cycle and became obsessed with Euripides and The House of Atreus. These two obsessions combined into a fascination with teenage killers. I ended up writing a three play cycle linking America's fascination with Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold (and Kip Kinkel and Mitchell Johnson and the nearly one hundred others) with the cycles of violence and vengence in the Euripides plays. It wasn't my most successful experiment, but it did get me into Yale Drama.

The point is: I know a whole lot about Columbine and beyond (and before) and have some very strong opinions about the events.

Unfortunately, the creators of Columbinus do not.

The first act of the piece was filled with the fetishization of high school angst as portrayed in contemporary films/TV. I'm talking Buffy without the intelligence, metaphor, and vampires. There's actually a scene where The Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony" is playing while pregnant girl has morning sickness, gay boy is putting on mascara, burnout girl is cutting herself, and jock boy is furiously doing push ups. Yes, it's as simplistic and Hollywood as it sounds.

The second act is then done as a sort of Living Newspaper re-enactment of April 18 - 20, 2999 and then one year, three years, and six years after the shootings. This half I actually liked, but I think I only felt that way because the first half was SO BAD.

That's it. That's the show. What's missing? Oh, right: an opinion. We're seven years away from it all. The Living Newspaper thing would have worked maybe a year or two after the events themselves, but now it's a numbingly uninsightful approach. I mean, Bowling for Columbine came out in 2002 - a mere three years after the tragedy - and Mr. Moore had a very strong and compelling slant on Columbine, America, and the culture of fear and mistrust Americans perpetuate. Instead of searching for a possible "why," Columbinus instead ends by asking "why?" It's a lame and non-commital way of taking advantage of all the sensationalism, without having to take a risk and posit an opinion that might be controversial or alienating.

So, while I respect the attempt, I was fairly disappointed by the execution. Thank god there was a lot of unneccessary and gratuitous nudity.

Crazy Busy

Work has gotten crazy busy while I have simultaneously been taking care of some playwriting business, so I haven't been all into the bloggy goodness lately.

In hopes of getting back on track, I'm going to try and do some insane blogging today while at my dayjob - that's right! On company time! Come on, you all do it, too.

So 45 minutes of work and then 15 minutes of blogging. That's today's goal.

The Gobshite of Galway

The Lieutenant of Inishmore

I mean, please.

Really? This is what everyone's been so damn excited about? Really?

I have never seen anything so dumb in all my life. If it were 20 minutes long like a Grand Guignol play, maybe I would get it. But the crappy dialogue, obvious plotting, and just plain stupid stupidity of this stupidness was far too stupid.

And don't try to give me any of this, "It's all about how violence is stupid and how the reasons for the rebellion got lost in all the stupid violence and you're stupid for not seeing that." Because I do see that. I just don't think you have to write a crappy play badly to get all that across.

And, yes, I've seen his other plays and even kind of liked one of them. This was just bad. And dumb.

This was play 2 of last weekend's 3 and definitely the low point.

Giuliani Sucks

And I hate him even more than before. Quality of life my ass - whose life?

Find out what's got me going now on Big Queer.

(All-)American Hwangap (Girl)

American Hwangap

So that triple-header theatre weekend I mentioned started off with a bang, which on the one hand was great. On the other, everything else after that kinda sucked.

But let's start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

I saw colleague Lloyd Suh's Bare Bones workshop of American Hwangap at The Lark last Friday, which was about an estranged Korean/Korean-American family gathering for their father's Hwangap. Coincidentally, to satisfy the urge to watch some complete fluff, I had just watched the first two episodes of that atrocious but ground-breaking Margaret Cho television series All-American Girl on DVD just days before.

Is it fair to compare a well-thought out piece of theatre from 2006 with a crazy television experiment in political correctness gone wrong from 1995 - 96, especially when one of it's primary creators calls it misguided? Probably not. But who cares?

What struck me about how wrong All-American Girl was, was that it was trying to be a Korean family, but it was trying to be an "All-American" family, and it was trying to be wacky, but it was trying to be traditional, and it was all crazy. And it's not like those elements were all working against or with each other -- they were just all existing at the same time. Complete chaos.

Lloyd's play, on the other hand, balanced all of these things well. Traditional Korean tradition being celebrated in the middle of Texas with a family comfortably in between two worlds. It was very touching and familiar. I can't wait to see what's next for it.

For the Fanboys (and Girls)

People have been getting to my blog lately by googling shirtless + dominic + monaghan and shirtless + monaghan and ending up at this entry which doesn't have nearly enough nudie hobbit on it. Since you're not the fools looking for child porn (by googling shirtless + berry), I thought I'd throw in these pics I found on the net. Wouldn't want to disappoint!

Yum!

What is that thing on his belly?

I like this one cause it looks like he's choking the Charlie -- nudge, nudge, wink, wink! Know what I mean?

The penultimate episode of Lost is tonight. EEK! I can't wait!

Busy Bee and Daniel Z.

I totally just finished off a triple-header theatre weekend, followed by working 14-hours for the Gala at my dayjob, all while prepping an application for a theatre festival, rearranging Alex and my bedroom, and getting ready for a very important interview this afternoon.

So, forgive the lack of blogging, which I will make up for starting tomorrow.

In the meantime, no longer ill, but still quite sick (in the head, I mean :-p)Daniel Zaitchik has his new LaMama concert date and time. I will probably be on a bus coming back from Boston and so won't be able to make it unless I get in early. Which is precisely why you should go in my stead. He rocks.

Swell an evening of Daniel Zaitchik tunes
Sunday, May 21st, 2006 @ 5:30 p.m.
with Jeremy Bass, Christina Courtin, and other guests
The Club @ LaMama
74A East 4th Street
(between 2nd Avenue and Bowery)
$15 / $10 for students and seniors
Tickets: (212) 475-7710 or visit www.lamama.org

Sloth Wannabe

Found this on My Amusement Park, but follow the link below my results to get to the actual quiz.

Your Deadly Sins

Sloth: 80%

Envy: 20%

Lust: 20%

Pride: 20%

Wrath: 20%

Gluttony: 0%

Greed: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 23%

You will get bugs, because you're too lazy to shoo them off. And then you'll die.

How Sinful Are You?

I don't know how I feel about this. I think that ultimately I desire slothfullness, because I'm always running around doing stuff. It's what I want to do, but not what I actually do. I wish I could be a sloth. Hmmm...

Real Neil Now

Speaking of the Real World: London (as I did in a comment on this post). Remember hottie boy-punk Neil? Here's a memory jog...

This is what he looks like now.

He works at an Internet company that creates Web currency. Talk about going from punk to anti-punk. Making money doesn't exactly fit in with any kind of anti-consumer ideals, does it? But then, neither does being on MTV, I guess.

Weird.

Gem of the Ocean

It has been brought to my attention that Andre Braugher is in the cast of Poseidon (also below the marquee).

Andre Braugher

So there's a little early 80's tokenism going on. Two steps forward, one step back, right? Why isn't this dude in any of the previews? And I wonder how much screen time he actually gets. Also, those two previously mentioned Latinos? They play a stowaway (Maestro) and a waiter (Rodriguez). Two steps forward, three steps back.

It has also been brought to my attention that the movie sucks royally and maintains it's racism despite these token attempts.

Even the New York Times takes a moment to point out the racism in their review.

And so there it is.

Pos-White-don

Look, I totally saw The Day After Tomorrow, so it's not like I'm above this movie. But it has an ensemble cast -- which is always the perfect opportunity for diverse casting, right? Let's take a look at whose got top billing...

Kurt Russell

Josh Lucas

Richard Dreyfuss

Jacinda Barrett

Emily Rossum

Mike Vogel

But wait! you're saying. Below the marquee names are two Latinos: Mia Maestro and Freddy Rodriguez. Look, I am totally one with/cool with the Latino explosion, but let's be frank: Hollywood hires the ones that look white. Ms. Maestro and Mr. Rodriguez are white latinos.

Mia Maestro

Freddy Rodriguez

And so, piss off Poseidon producers. I'll save my coin for the movie that despite the preposterousness of its mise en scene possesses a cast that reflects my world more fully: X3 - The Last Stand (yeah, baby!).

One More Lost Question

When you call 877-HANSORG and press 1 for General Information, a man starts speaking in Danish. I have no idea what he's saying, but while he speaks he says the words Geronimo Jackson and Magna Carta.

Huh?

Dishing It Up

I don't know what this pic has to do with dishes, but who cares? I mean: HOTT. That's right, HOTT with two Ts.

So why do people in couples fight about dishes? Using them, doing them, putting them away? Or laundry (again using it, doing it, and putting it away) - why are these the things we fight about?

Alex and I rarely fight about the big stuff. In fact, we're pretty good at talking that stuff out even if we're angry or upset or crying while doing it. But household chores will stir up such unreasonably huge ire.

And I know we're not the only ones. I hear about it from most couples I know. So, help me out, folks: why?

Lost in LOST

So, I usually tape Lost, since I can't count on myself being home Wednesday nights, so I missed the first time the Hanso Foundation commercial aired.

Anyway, I caught it last night and have been totally baffled by the site. I called the 877-HANSORG number this morning and then went to The Hanso Foundation homepage. I got to the part where you click the clock when it says OB:EY. And then I clicked all the windows on the subLYMONal site, got the code, clicked the hidden link, and went to Mittelwerk's bio. But when I type in "heir apparent" nothing happens. WTF?

Finally, I started googling around and discovered this site: The Lost Experience. How come I can't get my computer to do all this junk?

Whatever the case: this is some totally amazing and fun interactive marketing. I don't think I'll buy Sprite, use Verizon, or go to Monster.com. But whatever.

As for last nights episode, I really hope Claire's psychic isn't really a fraud. I'm wondering whether he just said what he did to Mr. Eko so he wouldn't miss Oceanic Flight 815. I'm also really disappointed that Libby is dead. Will Hurley ever remember her from the hospital? Perhaps she isn't dead after all? Perhaps that wasn't her in the hospital but someone who looks like her...?

Hated It

I think when I see too much theatre uptown, I just start hating all theatre. Either that or most of the stuff out right now is just garbage. I've actually seen a handful of shows over the past week or so, I just don't feel like talking about any of them because they were either uninspiring or just plain icky.

Fastlad commented recently (IRL not on here) on how I actually believe in the power of theatre. I had never thought about it, but I guess I really do. Because all these people putting up all these shows that do nothing, say nothing, and are nothing - it just makes me feel so disenchanted. It's like watching the obnoxiousy wealthy spend an everyman's salary on a piece of jewelry or an evening out or a trip into space. You could save lives or educated the masses or subsidize the arts.

All that power just getting pissed away.

Hysterical Hipster-phobia

Two women on the 7 were discussing their move from Queens to Park Slope. Annoying red-haired actor lady (who repeatedly refers to Kristin Chenoweth as Kristin in a later conversation) says:

"We [she and her roommates] promised each other two things. If we're moving to Park Slope we will not become hipsters and we will not become lesbians."

First of all, if you think the hipsters are living in Park Slope, lady, you have no danger of becoming one whatsoever. So don't sweat it; that promise won't be too hard to keep.

Secondly, as a friend of the lesbians: believe me, they don't want you anyway. Homos, in general, dislike homophobes.

The train emptied out a bit at the next stop. As I moved away from this grating conversation, they moved on to the topic of the Alec Baldwin/Jan Maxwell Roundabout hoo-hah.

Dream: A Dream of Dreaming

I was having a bad dream - I don't remember what it was about - so I forced myself to wake up.

When I did, I was sitting in a room in early afternoon light. I'd fallen asleep on a high-backed white armchair. The walls of the room were a light, bright orange and there was a picture frame hanging on the wall. The frame was white, I don't remember what the picture in it was. It had a cyan cast, and I remember there being an umbrella. Perhaps it was a scene at the beach.

I was sitting at work today remembering that orange room and realizing I had not actually visited it at anytime between yesterday and today. I only dreamt that I was having a bad dream. I thought I had woken myself up last night, but it appears I slumbered on.

Dream: Bugged

I dreamt that I was in a warehouse of some kind: white walls, concrete floor, uneven and flickering flourescent lights. I had the general impression that I was in this place because of something theatre-related. It wasn't organized like a prop warehouse or scene shop, though; in fact, it wasn't organized at all. There were pieces of foam and torn up furniture littered throughout, just spread all over the floor. Some huge chunks, some small; most stained or water damaged; all unidentifiable and untraceable back to the thing they were before they were torn apart.

All of them were infested with bugs, some enormously huge. I particularly remember some kind of red centipede and lots of weird beetles with pincers.

I had to make my way through the warehouse, so I stepped over a piece of foam and a centipede jumped out at me...

Just as it did, my cat (in the real world) stretched out and touched my leg. I jolted awake and pushed her away. I lay there panting and afraid, realizing instantly it was a dream.

Crash-ing Bore

Crash

In honor of Patrick Kennedy, I finally watched Crash. No, not really.

As always a little late to the party on this one, but I had to be. I needed my Brokeback anger to recede a bit before being able to meet this movie on it's own terms. It's a good thing I did, too, otherwise I think I would have gone on a rampage post-Oscar night.

The movie was just not very good. It had the subtlety of a 2-x-4 smacking you upside the head every two minutes for two hours straight. And for everything it was saying about race and racism: 1) none of it wasn't already obvious, and 2) the movie itself was racist toward Asians/Asian-Americans.

And that garbage about people in LA crashing into each other just to feel some kind of connection? That was stoopid. And what did it have to do with anything in the movie? Who was connecting? Where? When? What did we learn about connection? Why is this movie called Crash?

All that combined with it's Best Picture win makes me think this one belongs in the pooper. Moreover, I do think that it's creators should publicly apologize for the way Asians are portrayed in the film, and the way Asian-Americans were excluded from it. There were Asian's in America since it's start, and there are a ginormous amount of us on the West Coast. We don't get a distinct voice? That's bull shit, plain and simple. And racist.

Whoa

Egad, Packard Saw Mill Anyone?

I love Twin Peaks. And with a 10-alarm fire, I think Greenpoint has become the Twin Peaks of New York City.

Does Joshua Guttman=Ben Horne? If there really were accelerants found in several places was Guttman attempting to frame someone Catherine Martell-like?

Probably not, but turning tragedy into a story makes it easier to deal with. Right, Mr. President?

Check out the story at The Gothamist by clicking below.

Massive Greenpoint Fire "Suspicious" and Still Being Fought

Jeff and Jay, Jay and Jeff

So my post on self-loathing has been put on the back burner, but I promise it will show up on Big Queer eventually.

Instead I wrote about that open letter from Jeff Whitty of Avenue Q fame to Jay Leno of Tonight Show fame that's been getting sent all over the damn place. Check it out here:

Dude, Jay sucks!

Did You Ever Know That You're My Hero?

Stephen Colbert. White House Press Correspondents Dinner. I don't have cable, so I had to catch it on YouTube here.

If you don't have high speed, read the transcript on DailyKos here.

And if you would like to laugh at how the White House Press Corps is old, stoopid, unable to take a joke, and unable to look within enough to see exactly what's wrong with their coverage for the past 6 years, visit the Washington Post here: The Colbert Blackout.

You're everything I would like to be...except for the part where you're white and skinny. And I'm cuter, I think. And I like my cats. You, but still looking like me, with my cats. And gay. And...never mind. You be you. I'll be me. I'll watch your stuff on YouTube. It'll be awesome.

Feeling Woozy

Oh my god...here's a picture of my favorite Oz character, the Woozy. He's the thing on the tree.

The boy is Ojo the Lucky (at the time of the illustration known as Ojo the Unlucky) and the big, huge rag doll is Scraps, the Patchwork Girl. Sitting on the road marker is Bungle, the Glass Cat (she has pink brains - you can see 'em work!). They're attempting to pull out one of his three tail hairs to make an antidote for a petrification potion.

How cool is that?

The Other Yellow Brick Road

Yes, there is more than one Road of Yellow Brick in Oz. How do I know? I was a serious Oz freak as a child (still am a bit). And as Alex and I were cleaning out our filing cabinet this weekend, I came across a little memory jog.

I used to work at Books of Wonder, once upon a time. I was only there for 9 months, but it was about 8 months too long. It was my first real job, and I didn't know back then that as an artist, I shouldn't be looking for real jobs. A real job meant being too tired to write and submit plays. It meant no time to research grants and fellowships. It meant no time to be an artist.

So why did I stay at this place so long? Well: Oz.

As I said I was cleaning the filing cabinet and came across my folder of writing samples from Books of Wonder. I used to do some flap copy as well as layout and additional copy for The Emerald City Mirror, newsletter of the Royal Club of Oz - all this I remembered. What I didn't remember was how I used to answer all the letters of the Club members who wrote to characters in the book. Here's a letter to the Hungry Tiger that came from Jordan K. from Marysville, WA in 1998:

Dear Hungry, (I hope you don't mind me calling you Hungry.) You are a very funny tiger in the books. I love cats. Speaking of which, I've seen you and the lion in pictures and I see that you're smaller. I thought that tigers were bigger, but it also depends on what kind of tiger you are. (I wanted to ask you that too.) Well, my letter is almost over, now you know that I'm not an eleven-year-old-boy who hates writing and reading. (I am an eleven-year-old boy, but I like reading and writing.) Thanks for reading.

Yours truly,

Jordan K.

Here's what I wrote back (as the Hungry Tiger)...

Dear Jordan,

Thank you very much for your letter. I do quite enjoy receiving mail. It seems one of the only things that can keep my mind off of eating delicious fat babies.

The Cowardly Lion is indeed larger than I am, but this is only fitting since he if the King of the Beasts. I'm sure that I could be much larger, but as my conscience does not allow my to eat fat babies and get the types of nutrients that most tigers get, it is probably no surpirse that I am not as big as most tigers.

It was a pleasure hearing from you. And give my regards to any fat babies you may bump into, and let them know that they are quite safe from me.

Ozzily yours,

The Hungry Tiger

What a trip! How fun was that? It reminds me of how much I really do love children's literature and especially the Oz books. And it makes me wonder where I would be if I had decided that the other road was more for me.

Anyway, perhaps I'll stop by Books of Wonder sometime this week...