It's Re-lightful, It's Re-licious, It's Re-lovely

I have re-cast some of my Troilus.

Since we are taking it on the road and up to Student Area of Prestigious Theatre, and two of our actors couldn't make it, some shuffling had to take place. I have actually managed to round up three actors for two slots, which is fairly exciting, as less cast overlapping means a less confused audience. Slightly, anyway. That's the hope.

I haven't really done this before, that is, had a bonus performance. Or rather, I have, but not with a changed cast, completely changed locale, and a two month break. In one way, it's rather wonderful, as it's a second chance to fix some of the elements that I felt didn't really gel. I don't consider this project the be my best work, and I'm anxious to work on it until I can be more proud of the result.

On the other hand, I don't think its gelling problems necessarily came from casting, and I'm not sure they are solvable under the circumstances. Especially given that I have three days to introduce my new actors to the play, including the cast that is already set, and then three days to polish it up till it's fit for public consumption, and those two three-day sets are seven weeks apart.

I am not necessarily learning what I expected to learn in grad school, but I'm definitely learning things.


Thoughts After Watching The Wire

I started watching The Wire again this week, after thinking about watching it for the last six months and rejecting it as too intellectual when I'm trying to do school as well. Now I'm not doing school for the moment (except for that one paper) and I nabbed it from the library while the nabbing was good. I watched season 1 about a year ago, and had planned on watching it again before going to season 2, but it was checked out, and season 2 wasn't, so there you go. And now, I have thoughts.

1. Ziggy, you are too stupid to live. I'm sorry! But you are! You are a moron, and you are too much of a moron to realize that messing around with illegal shit is a stupid thing for a moron to do! You are going to get murdered, and it will not be my fault. I have tried to warn you repeatedly, and so has your friend who is probably also going to die but who I will miss because he is not a moron.

2. If I keep living in Britain and watching American TV, I am never, ever going to figure out where the driver's seat in the car goes. Ever.

3. I finally know what a stevedore is. (I had only heard it in... um... the wrong context, before.)

4. YAY! Freamon! And Daniels! Yay! Love them so, so much. Also Omar. Yay, Omar!

5. One of the best lines on TV, ever:
Stringer Bell: I need you to be subtle with this shit. You know what subtle means?
Random Dealer Guy: When you all laid-back and shit.
It was the delivery. The delivery was awesome.

6. I remembered how intellectual the show is, and how it doesn't hand-hold and expects you to keep up. But I forgot that it's also often funny and always interesting, and that if you do pay attention it rewards you a lot. In short, I remembered that it was "good," but forgot why I thought so. Nothing will ever take the place of Doctor Who in my affections, but damn, The Wire is some good shit.

7. Also, I swear a lot more when I'm watching it. Clearly. Sorry, Grammy.


I HAD to share this...

I couldn't help it. This link is my own personal brand of heroin.


Les Anglaises

Once again, I must apologize for real life getting in the way of the much more important realm of blogging. I had a major deadline for a project last week, and as such spent most of my waking minutes trying to make my project not suck. (It didn't, but I still felt I could have done better - making my thesis for my portfolio on said project basically write itself.)

Another of the side effects of said project was to immerse me in British culture in a way that 6 months living here couldn't match. Since 88% of my course is made up of either American or Canadian students, and our professors, though British, make allowances for that, and since my life outside the university is primarily restricted to business transactions, several sides of British life have become clear to me only in the last couple weeks.

Such as... what the hell is up with British schools and youth and whatnot? I'm not complaining about the curricula, of which I know very little; nor do I want the damn kids to get off my lawn. I'm just completely flabbergasted by the pastimes of British youth. For background, please remember that although I was a fairly straight-edged kid, I did go to school in Berkeley, where clouds of pot smoke would hang over the park where we gathered for lunch -- the park that was across the street not only from the high school but also the police station and City Hall. So it's not like I think teenagers are angels.

But when I was young, we did not set people on fire in order to wake them up. Nor was it cool to trick someone into drinking your urine. There may have been one knife fight at my school that I remember, but racial slurs shouted in the halls really weren't tolerated, and the authorities were not shy about expelling students who threatened death and dire bodily harm on other students. Or who wrecked school buildings. In the UK, however, these things were apparently a matter of course. But they're less violent than the states, because they carry knives instead of guns. I guess. I... I don't know. Don't look at me, I just live here.

I read The Anglo Files before I got out here, and it's tremendous, and I recommend it to everyone. But I really am waiting for the author to write a sequel covering violence in schools, pantos, the appeal of getting drunk at ten in the morning, why the British complain about having to pay for their prescriptions, and why they can't share the effing sidewalk.



"See, I know my own come-dine-with-me-theory a lot better than you do!"

A syllogism about this post:

Summer leads to open windows.
Open windows allow me to hear drunk people coming home.
Drunk people coming home are hilarious.