Fire Escape

I Saw A Squirrel: "Public Transportation"

Encounter

I saw you suddenly dancing
across the night,
wearing wings of light and silver,
drifting lazily on the wind
without direction, except...

I caught your eyes,
pricks of brightness darting behind
their smooth, black cases,
glinting gunmetal armor
hiding every thought except...

I felt your arms
snake like silk around me
your fingers tangled like ivy into my hair,
your hot, orange breath
tracing mazes
into the corners of my neck
but saying nothing, except...

I knew your touch,
the red shivers from your fingertips,
the feathered whisper of your lips
gliding over my textured skin
every hair rising to greet
those seductive echoes,
screaming out to stop, except...

I saw myself under the surface with you,
pitching and turning on the waves
of fire and passion
and every breath in the room, and every
flick of the clock drew us
closer to the waking hour.

And the birds sang,

and the light pierced through
your ghostly image.

Welcome back,
you said.

And you were gone.

Things I Learned At Work Today

1. Despite my predictions, it is, in fact, possible to work a 14-hour day, stay up late drinking, get 4 hours sleep, and then wake up at 8am to repeat the process.

2. It is harder to focus stage lights when you are dangling upside-down from an I-beam harnessed into the high steel than you would think.

3. Meta-Algebra:
a. 2x4 + 2x4 + 2x4 + 2x4 = Platform framing.
b. Holding 2x4 in place + Nail gun = Helpful and efficient.
c. Nail gun + My thumb = Lots of blood + Light-headedness.
d. My thumb + Hospital staff + Tetanus shot = Crabby nurse.
e. Tetanus shot + No stitches + No bone contact + Workman's Comp = VERY, VERY LUCKY.

4. People are cynical and sarcastic when they think you injured yourself. People are much nicer when they learn that someone else did it to you.


------- EDIT: -------

5. When people who have just met you accidentally shoot you through the thumb with a nail gun and watch you bleed all over the shop floor, they will make you wonderful trophies, (even if they don't yet know your last name).

Keith Olbermann Special Comment

Wow.

More links. Watch this. Now. (11 minutes combined).

* Keith Olbermann - part 1
* Keith Olbermann - part 2

"And sir, if you have any hopes that next January 20th will not be celebrated as a day of soul-wrenching, heart-felt thanksgiving because your faithless stewardship of this presidency will have finally come to a merciful end, this last piece of advice--"

PSF

A brief note:

For those that didn't know, I will be leaving in just under 6 hours to begin my summer internship at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival at DeSales University.

For the next twelve (12) weeks, I will undertake all the duties of the "swing intern," which, as I understand, means I will be the production manager's bitch for the summer. Which is fine by me -- I haven't had an honest day's work in a long time, and this will be a great way for me to get my foot in the door and make some connections within the theater world. Hooray.

This also means I will be living at DeSales U until Aug. 6. In a dorm room. Possibly with a roommate. If I have one, my challenge for myself will be to see how much like Freshman year at VC I can make this experience. Mainly, I will try to get the roommate to move out after six weeks. If I find him doing lines of coke off my desk, I'll know I'm almost there.

Don't worry. I'll have my computer and phone, so I won't be entirely dead to the world. But I will be living on theater time -- very much like my life at VC, except I won't have the periodic nap-times throughout the day that were my classes.

Anyway. It starts.

I Saw A Squirrel: "A Brief Chat With God"

Everyone should see this...

It's educational. It's entertaining. Mostly it's just pretty.

It's sort of long, but do watch it to the end. That's where it gets good.

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/260.

For Your Consideration

Parrot Tulip, From Above.

Thoughts?

Encounter

On this whispered night,
    lying secret between a cool spring breeze
and a deep crimson quilt,
    your weightless kisses float across my face —
my cheeks, my eyes — and tickle the very
    corners of my curling breath.

Red brush strokes blossom across each silken curve
    as roaming petals dance and explore
the small of your back, and we tumble and fall
    within the rich folds of color
until dew seasons every finger of grass
    and birds' songs float and mingle with new light,
refracting through a green and smiling world.

Here's To You, Matthew Vassar!

Happy Founder's Day! Today is the day when all Vassarians come together in all their inebriated glory to celebrate the founder of their beloved school, the most honorable Matthew Vassar. And if all has gone according to plan, I have successfully made the trek back to Poughkeepsie so that I, too, might celebrate this man and all that he knew and loved.


Matthew Vassar was a brewer by trade, and any self-respecting Vassar student will proudly tell you that Main building was designed with exceptionally wide halls so that, in case the school failed, Mr. Vassar could convert it easily into a brewery. This cunning and ingenious forethought was -- and continues to be -- an inspiration to all of us; his legacy lives on each and every day through the age-old college traditions of mildly responsible consumption and all out binge drinking alike.


Fortunately, his school was a success. And so once a year, as the sun rises over the quad and the warm spring weather descends once more from its hibernation hole in the Catskill mountains or somewhere, Vassar students, alums, faculty and friends take a day to honor their founder and all that he was able to accomplish. And how better to celebrate the man than by driving a giant beer truck onto Balentine Field and spending the day playing, dancing and enjoying the company of friends, all with a plastic mug of suds clasped faithfully in our inebriated fists.

Here's to you, Matthew Vassar. May your soul rest blissfully, and may our intoxicated--wait, no; -ing, intoxicating--laughter show our deep appreciation for all that you have done.

At the mercy of public transportation

He sits on the bed,
the screen glowing softly beside
him, while sounds of jazzed-up
Broadway hits are transmitted
from satellite to
satellite to
him
as he waits for a
customer service agent.

He dozes; the clock
ticks quietly in the next room.

After a dream --
a mutant cat eating a street
full of people? --
a voice interrupts the music.

He explains the problem,
patiently.
It's been two hours, he says.
She tells him there
has been a glitch in the system,
the ones and zeros
didn't add up,
we're sorry.

We can request a ticket
to be waiting for you at the desk,
she says. He can hear her smiling,
falsely.
That would be great, he says.
It will take some time, she says,
We'll call you with the confirmation number.

Confirmation number;
A glitch in the system;
Customer service agent.

The clock
ticks quietly in the next room,
the screen glowing quietly
beside him.

The three dollar convenience fee
is mocking him;

he sighs.

I Saw A Squirrel: "Not An Exit"

I Saw A Squirrel: "Impressing The Pope"

Seriously? This is our president? Awesome.

Response: Founder's Day

In regards to Justin's post, I whole-heartedly agree. We will need a T-shirt. I will also voice my stern opinion that those Candyland kids are scary as hell -- as I put it to Justin earlier, "they remind me of the kids of one of my old high school teachers... They were frightening children-of-the-corn type kids..." -- but as no other ideas have yet been suggested, I've done the initial tracing:

(Click for full size)

God, those kids are creepy. It is just me, or does the black and white make them look like they're wearing prison jumpsuits? Also, keep in mind that this isn't quite stencil-ready; I couldn't get it to work in my head, so you should all feel free to chop away at it until it works.

Or, (please, dear lord), suggest something different. I was thinking a stencil of one of the Candyland game pieces, (you know those little plastic 2-D figurines?), but I can't find a good image. Or hell, it doesn't even have to relate to Candyland, per se, (though it probably shouldn't be about Brisco Country Jr. or something quite that far off. Much as I like a non sequitur, that would just be weird).

Response: ::floating::

Why must one walk calmly through this
ordered plane — where logic
precedes action;
where practicality
precludes every piece of the
puzzle; where programming
prevents spontaneity,
those psychological splashes
of silver and satin color —
when the world within
my wandering mind
wears a wild fantasy,
a fearless fervor
which feeds my dreams?

Jump —

Why do they insist
that imagination resides
entirely inside, behind
the eyes?

They say you wake, or fall;
yet I see you fly.

Ben Franklin, Ed Rendell, and A Dozen Eagles Cheerleaders

On Wednesday, I proudly stood in several lines, dripped vegetarian sandwich sauce on my pants, took off my belt for the metal detectors, and giggled gleefully like a little girl all for the sake of being in the studio audience for the Colbert Report in Philly.

...Or, as it has been officially dubbed, Stephen Colbert's Doritos Spicy Sweet Pennsylvania Primary Coverage Live from Chiladelphia, the City of Brotherly Crunch.

And it was amazing. I sat in the second row right at the corner of the stage. I saw how a TV show is filmed. I got to slap Colbert's hand. Benjamin Franklin made reference to French prostitutes. One of the Eagles cheerleaders smiled and waved at me. I got to slap Colbert's hand again. The only thing that could have made it better would have been a delicious Philly cheesesteak slathered in Whiz presented to me by a tuxedo-clad waiter riding a velociraptor. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to bring food into the theater, or I would have been all over that, too.

...And just to prove it, here is a an actual screen capture from the show that aired at 11.30pm on Wed. April 16. Let's play a little game of "Where's Waldo," shall we?

Can you locate all the important characters in the above photo? Give up? Here are the answers:

All in all, 'twas a wonderful day. I'm thinking next time I go up to NYC, I should really try and get tickets to The Daily Show. You know, complete my experience of the Comedy Central dynamic duo; the dream ticket; the late-night political power hour.

In the meantime, I'mma go vote in the Pennsylvania Democratic primary, which is being hailed as "the first time since 1976 that Pennsylvania will play a major role in a presidential nomination." Take that, Bicentennial.

I Saw A Squirrel: "In The News"

Side note: This was inspired by an actual news story from Dec. 2007, starring a dude in Wenatchee, Washington. No joke. You can read about it from the local Wenatchee World article; or, even better, here's another write-up from metro.co.uk, (be sure to read all the way to the last paragraph).

I Done Did It Good

Today I did a little freelance electrician work for a small theater in the next town over. Woke up at 6.30am, (holy crap was I not ready for that), so I could be on the train by 7.30 and at the theater by 8. My mom greeted me at the bottom of the stairs with, "Oh, wow, I forgot you were getting up this early. I'm impressed you're awake! Too bad I'm going to school, I could have given you a ride." (Thanks, mom).

I got to the theater a bit early, and sat in the amazing morning air until Lauren, the production manager, unlocked the doors and let me in. At first I was annoyed that the first brilliant spring day of the year would be spent in a dark, dusty theater, but then I realized that on any other day I wouldn't even be awake until 11, and I should be grateful to see this so-called "morning" at all.

It was the kind of invigorating theater work I haven't done in so long: I deciphered an incoherent plot; I climbed ladders while carrying too much heavy equipment; I hung, struck and rehung lights; I ran circuits; I ate a donut; I joked about how annoying actors can be. We ended up finishing everything in only 4 hours. When I left, I had cuts and scrapes, not to mention a layer of generic filth, all over my hands and arms. Man, did it feel good.

It seems stupid, however, to have to fill out a bunch of tax forms so they can pay me $52... Minus taxes.

Damn you, IRS. Damn you.

I Saw A Squirrel: "Mentalism"