Made it to 2013

Well. I think it's fair to say there's nobody out there reading this. I've mostly migrated to Tumblr now, and let me say I'm pretty fucking embarrassed by most of the stuff I posted here. What an immature little twit I was.

Anyway, since the last time I posted my life has fallen apart and I have put it back together. Some day I will delete all this. But for now, I guess that's all I've got to say.

By the way, my name is Kelly.

Who Knows

My God, it's been a long time. I don't know what happened. I just stopped.

Stopped.

I've got a new Mac now and all of my time is being devoted to writing. When I'm not writing I'm seeing Hair, which I have done four times since it's been back. I don't think I have to say how much of a dream come true that's been for me. My foot is broken but I've been hobbling around the city like a trooper. Wednesday I'm seeing Follies. Since I last blogged I've seen:

Jerusalem 2x

Hair 4x

Billy Elliot 2x

Death Takes a Holiday

How to Succeed

The Normal Heart 2x

The People in the Picture

I must be forgetting some.

Leaving for college in two weeks. I'm not scared. Nothing scares me, just makes me nervous.

Coping.

So my heart is still pretty broken, but you know what helps? Crack.

Kidding. I just keep going, I guess. The sun will rise and the moon will set and you learn how to settle for what you get. Such is life. As Prior Walter said, "One wants, but one so seldom gets what one wants, does one? No. One does not. One gets fucked over." You go on, but spoiled little bitches like me can't get by without something to dull the pain. So I've been self-medicating in the only way I know how. I think we know what that is by now. Lately I've had two speeds: a million miles an hour and stop. The last few weekends have found me running wild in the city and cultivating a very trendy hatred of Times Square. This year alone I've seen:

Women on the Verge

La Cage

The Addams Family

Good People

The Dream of the Burning Boy

Angels in America: Millennium Approaches

Angels in America: Perestroika

The Dream of the Burning Boy

This Saturday I'm seeing The People in the Picture and in late May I'm seeing How to Succeed. Life in shambles. Keep calm and carry on. The children of Africa weep for me.

.

I'm not going to Emerson. Harper has a line in Perestroika: "When your heart breaks you should die." Well, she was right. You should. But you don't. You go on. And I'll be okay. I always am.

Bring it On

So the book and I have been nominated for some kind of award. That's exciting. I've never known the joy of competition, at least not in anything I'm actually good at. On March 25 I have to go to the gala. They say it's an honor just to be nominated. It is, but for a psychotic Lady Macbeth like myself that's not enough.

What I'll Do

So I finally saw The Addams Family. Charles Addams is rolling in his grave if in fact he's actually dead.

Anyway, I'm starting to compile a spring docket. It is as follows:

Angels in America

Good People

The People in the Picture

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

How to Succeed

Anything Goes

It's been a while since I've actually actively wanted to see anything. And God knows I'm the kind of person that knows what she wants. Which is why I've decided to blow off senior prom and go to the Tonys. That is what I really want to do. I have no interest in prom or dancing. So I'm gonna do something that'll actually bring me some enjoyment.

Stun

Alice Ripley liked my Facebook status today and I was so shocked I choked on my Powerade. This is the coolest thing that's happened since my dinner after Women on the Verge. The status was "I just realized most of the things BopIt says sound incredibly sexual." And she liked it. And it made my day. I can see what you're thinking but I don't care.

I make it a point not to bother actors on Facebook. I think it's creepy. Anyway, there it is. An unsolicited like. Nothing like having a stranger reaffirm your sense of self-worth. I'm gonna go throw up now.

It's Today

So today Next to Normal is closing. I won't be there since I'm sitting home with my cheeks swollen up like Winston Churchill. Got my wisdom teeth out on Friday. Anyway, I'm not emotionally shattered. I'm sitting here with ice on my face and listening to A Little Brains, A Little Talent. It had a better run that I ever thought possible. I never got to see Marin Mazzie, but there are worse things than that. Lotta memories. At least I get to keep those.

In other news, Spider-man's opening was pushed back again. Its amount of previews now exceeds the entire lengths of Ragtime's run. I hope you're damn well pleased with yourself, Julie Taymor. Cause nobody else is.

On the Verge

It's taken a week to be able to get my thoughts together and write about what it perhaps the most awesome thing that's ever happened to me. I saw Women on the Verge last week. It wasn't really that bad. Laura Benanti was great and I no longer hate LuPone that much. Her solo towards the second act was the best part of the show.

When it was over my family and I ate dinner in the little French bistro across the street. (Four months to Paris. Gotta practice.) I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came out BOOM: Laura Benanti. I sat back down and looked across the room. I spied:

Gavin Creel
Laura Benanti
Celia Keenan-Bolger
Victoria Clarke
Stephen Pasquale
Justin Guarini
Brian Stokes Mitchell

I, of course, didn't say anything. No use being a damn fool. It was the most intense meal I've ever had. I spent the evening giggling nervously and avoiding looking up.

Bonus: Tourists make my parents nervous, so they were waiting by the theatre when I got out. My dad said Joel Grey walked by and the stage door guy didn't want to let him in because he didn't know who he was. GOD DAMN IT THAT'S JOEL GREY.

We were going to see The Addams Family but didn't because my sister was scared. After that we were going to see Spider-man but didn't because I was scared.

2011

The new year it's a-comin'. You all excited? Well God called. He said not to get your hopes up.



Also The Corrections is wonderful and Eve Harrington is the most evil character in cinematic history. The end.

Movies

So this Christmas was pretty epic. A blizzard howls around me, so I've had plenty of time to watch movies. On Saturday I got:

Angels in America
Passing Strange
Damn Yankees
All About Eve
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Anna Karenina

I've already watched Baby Jane and Passing Strange, and I stayed up late last night to start Angels in America. I've seen it so many times, but Mary Louise Parker never stops being amazing and Al Pacino never stops being scary. I could take or leave Meryl Streep, except when she's Ethel Rosenberg. Then I'll take it.

I also got Dance on Broadway for the Wii, and I am utterly terrible at it. My sister filmed me attempting to do the Bend and Snap. What has been seen cannot be unseen.

My Year at the Theeyater

So my buddy Kimber bought me La Cage tix for the ninth. WOOO! Third row. I didn't even know she new I was a La Cage fan, but far be it from me to deny anyone the chance to visit my favorite gay cabaret. I also found out about my Angels in America tickets two days too early. I'm a real bitch with surprises. Nobody gets anything by me.



I've seen a decent amount of shows this year. Let's see what I can actually remember.



1/10 Ragtime

1/22 Night Music

1/29 Jersey Boys

1/30 Next to Normal

2/21 God of Carnage

3/7 Hair

4/3 Next to Normal

4/? Cats

5/2 Next to Normal

6/13 Sondheim on Sondheim

6/30 American Idiot

7/18 Next to Normal

8/13 Night Music

9/4 American Idiot

9/4 La Cage

11/26 Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson



There's probably some I'm forgetting, but that's enough for anyone. The best was Ragtime, and the worst was that goddamn Cats. In fact, it was the worst thing I've ever seen. Let's focus on the positive, though. I've never in my life seen anything as wonderful as Ragtime, and I doubt I ever will again. I may be exaggerating a little. Not everyone loved the production. But I did. And this is MY damn blog, thanks. My memory has probably built it up to be better than it was. But not by much.

Snapping the Tether

Harper has a line in Angels in America that goes something like, "Wow, I musta REALLY snapped the tether this time!" So did Julie Taymor. The entire NY theatre scene is abuzz with what happened last night at Spider-man. I haven't forgotten this picture. Apparently Jennifer D. saw the whole thing happen. Nothing like seeing somebody come crashing down from 30 feet in the air. Apparently the audience could hear her crying. (Cheap shot, but here I go - that's more than the folks at the Booth ever heard. I hate myself.) Anyway, they stopped the show and the guy got taken out in an ambulance. Apparently he's ok, but no good can come of this fiasco.

I don't know what's gonna happen because of this, but it can't be good. I'm not thinking they're getting shut down, but I foresee the opening getting pushed back again. God knows I'm not interested in giving this show any of my money, but snagging a seat in the orchestra might be worth my while. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get hit by a falling baritone and then I can sue and be set for college and grad school. Not funny. I'm not laughing. Not laughing. I really suck, don't I.

Poor Jennifer Damiano. I know it's closing, but she probably should have just stayed with Next to Normal. You know. The show where you can't get killed.

Don't Tell Mama

So I did make Emerson, and it's fun already. Huzzah for me.

Yesterday I had a Christmas party in SoHo, after which I took it upon myself to roam the streets at sunset. Stranger danger, but what Mama don't know won't never hurt her. (She's already forbidden me to walk Boston Common at night. I said I wouldn't, but the thing is she'd never know if I did.) God knows that's not my territory down there. Plunk me south of 30th Street and I have no idea what I'm doing. It's much more fun that way. After a while I found that I'd wandered to 13th Street. Something made me look up, and there was a boy sitting in a third floor window and playing the guitar. I smiled at him. He waved at me. I waved back. Obviously we're engaged now.

After that I headed over to the Strand where a cashier yelled at me because I didn't know who wrote The Corrections. Well excuse me. I picked up Tropic of Cancer, and reading it is like taking too much Robitussin and then watching all of Alice Ripley's Youtube videos. You know. Like that.

Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown Part 2

Emerson letter coming tomorrow. Claude and I are sitting here and trying not to rip each other's hair out. I haven't been this nervous since the 2009 Tonys. For some reason listening to Video Killed the Radio Star is calming me down. Am I too young to be having my quarter-life crisis?

Lenora joined Facebook two days ago. City of the damned. The suspense, Mr. Lies. It's killing me.

A Tapdance

I have a problem: I'm inordinately proud of my legs. That makes me feel like a creeper. One of my Facebook (and actual honest to Jebus real-life) friends says it's suggestive that I like to show them off so much. What am I suggesting, exactly? That I'm not an ass-aching Puritan? That there is one part of my body of which I am not unendurably ashamed? Or maybe I'm what Sylvia Plath would call a drunken amorphous slut.

We've been discussing obscenity in my law class. The thing is there just isn't much that I find to be obscene. J-Woww, maybe. Or the fact that Fred Phelps has followers. I'm pretty much game for anything else. Put it on a stage and call it art and I probably won't be smart enough to know the difference.

All for now.

Women on the Verge

So I've decided that I will heretofore dedicate my sidebar to the women who have shaped my life. I want to be like them. I want to dance like Gwen Verdon and write like Sylvia Plath and have Vivien Leigh's sweetness and Alice Ripley's individuality. I am so a product of observation.

Pity Post # 2

Sorry, folks. I reread Gone With the Wind and haven't been blogging as much as I ought. So. Lotsa shit closing.

Fela
Night Music
Next to Normal
In the Heights
Scottsboro Boys
Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

I'm certain there are some that I'm forgetting. It's 2009 all over again. I'm gonna miss Next to Normal a lot but I think the purging is necessary. The way I see it you have to give up to get. I can't remember where I heard that.

Emerson decision coming back any day now and I am so nervous I may very well have a seizure any minute now. Probably shouldn't be blogging when that happens.

Disgrace

Spiderman's alive and kicking. Scottsboro Boys is closing. American Idiot sends out an SOS and brings in Bille Joe again.

Every day a little death.

Andrew Jackson

Saw Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson last night. I have to say, they've done a superb job converting the Jacobs. Only problem is I'm not exactly sure what they converted it into. The show is bloody and it does feature Andrew Jackson, but I don't know how anyone could have missed telling me how BORING it is. I'm being a little harsh here. I had fun for a while. Once he actually became president, though, it was slow and painful death brought on by girls kissing for no reason and jokes about John Calhoun raping crippled children twice. And Emily Young has scary eyes.

Let's not condemn the show. I enjoyed myself, I really did. I remember thinking in the beginning of the show that it was like being raped from the seventh row of the mezzanine. In a good way. When it's not trying so desperately hard, it can be very funny. For instance - two Jackson supporters yelling out earnestly "WE WANNA FUCK YOU!" They then turned to the audience and said something else that immediately killed the joke. Damned if I can remember what it is. And, okay. Watching people get shot with pretend arrows is only funny the first eight times. Then it just gets dull. Lobotomy dull. Lobotomy-no Tony nom for you Ben Walker-dull. Yeah. THAT kind of dull. BBAJ was the only show I've ever seen where the audience did not stand at the end.

So lately I've been attempting to read plays that AREN'T written by Williams or Miller. So far I've hit Come Back, Little Sheba and am currently slogging through Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and loving it. Why oh WHY was Bette Davis not cast as Martha in the movie?