Holding Pattern Saturday, January 17, 2004

Mrs. WTJ points out I haven't written anything here for a week. A lot happened, most of it good even if not on the surface: strengthening resolve, that kinda stuff.

More tomorrow, promise.

@ 10:22:00 PM, ,

Uncertainty, I Love You Sunday, January 11, 2004

What the hell is this, some kinda tube?
--Bob Dole

The in-laws were in town this weekend for Mrs. WTJ's birthday. For some New York spectacle we took them to Blue Man Group. I had seen it in the early '90s, and didn't remember much of it. It's still hilarious in spots but bits of it seem wildly dated these days. There are "sketches" (for lack of a better term) about fractals, chaos theory, information flow--all of the stuff that obsessed me when you could find the answers to life in the science and spirituality section of the St. Mark's Bookshop. Even the parody of deconstructive criticism seemed a little, well, '90s. The theme song in the big finale: "Last Train to Trancentral," by KLF. With the lights out, it's less dangerous!

All of it bugged me, vaguely, and it took a second to realize why. Not so much that the act seemed note-for-note the same one I'd seen a decade ago. But they didn't adapt to the fact that the world has changed since then. Just over two years ago, and two miles from the theater, a rather rude beast was born, and the show has kept going--like the automatons it uses as a central trope. (I have a Bachelor of Arts degree!)

My thesis: Everybody thinks of "Rent" as the Grunge-Era East Village bottled and put on stage; but I think Blue Man Group deserves that honor. Nobody in the Village was ever as fabulous or sexy as the guys 'n' gals in "Rent"--but I knew lots of Blue Man candidates, ladies and gents who loved science and music and gags, and tried to find excuses to bring them all together. Ah Blue Man! Ah humanity!

The title of this post comes from a wonderful song by an irritating songwriter, Martin Sexton. (Lyrics from Lyricsfind.com.)

The American
I will always love you
Uncertainty I love you
Spacious skies I love you
I'll find new ways to love you
All these miles of ghostly west
The Hopis lost to Spain
Now belong to me
I'm the American
I could be a cowboy
Or just a hired hand
Twisters come in April
And rearrange the land
Pick me up and throw me west
A thousand miles from home
Dreaming up my fix
I'm the American
Abilene, old New Mexico
High and dry
Flagstaff Arizone
Cool water
Sipping silver stream
This is my
American dream
I know a squaw in Winslow
Who swears by candlelight
She said she'd leave the back door
Open tonight
Three weeks pay will keep me off
The wrong side of the law
Dreaming up my fix
Getting somewhere quick
I'm the American
And I'll always love you

Most of the time, Sexton's a third-rate Tom Waits (I'm a drunk, I like diners, highway rise to meet me, etc.). But he has some amazing moments, so I can never give him up for good. There are a ton of artists like that: I'm suckered in by one or two brilliant tunes and they have me forever, even if they produce album after album of garbage. I gotta learn!

@ 7:26:00 PM, ,

Many Partings

Well, hello, there. It's been a long week and a busy weekend. Sorry for the silence. More shortly.

@ 9:54:00 AM, ,