Zuzu over at feministe had a pretty interesting breakdown of Jennifer Holliday’s career (or lack thereof) after Dreamgirls. But watching the video put me in a slightly different frame of mind.
Dreamgirls was the very first Broadway show I ever saw – I couldn’t have been more than ten years old. After watching this video, you’ll understand why that experience made me, for life, a devoted Broadway musical fan.
Man, I really, really hope we get a non-dubbed version of the new film here in Italy.
Saw Sleater-Kinney last night at Webster Hall (with the same group of folks from work who went last year), and it was, again, pretty awesome.
This is, as they’ve announced, their final tour ever, as they are breaking up after the conclusion. The final concert is tomorrow night (although there are some rumors that they’re going to do one more “final” final sendoff in portland). I will say though, that concert venues originally constructed in 1886 are not the ideal place to be when it’s been well over 100 degrees without the humidity all day for at least two days. It was hot. and stanky. and I thought, at more than one point in the evening, that I was literally going to melt in a puddle onto the floor. Still, I’m glad I went (my head may have not been so happy this morning when I woke up, but, eh, what the hell).
Anyway, here’s what photos looked like when I took them:
Here’s what photos looked like when my friend Steve, who’s approximately an entire foot taller than me took them:
And for those of you who are interested in hearing what it sounded like…
Ok. Not so much a week, but more like some random stuff that has gone on since the last time I posted.
I got a really unpleasant bacterial infection and now I’m on Cipro. Yum. You know it’s good when they’re giving you the stuff that they give to Anthrax victims.
In the span of two weeks, they’ve filmed not one, but two John Lennon-related movies on my street. There’s the one that I think is this one, but only because I thought I saw a number of folks lip syncing. They were set up for three days straight, in their hippie-60s gear. Before I started rooting around the internet, I thought it was some weird Hair remake. Then there was the one that Yoko Ono tried to prevent from filming, because, you know, they’re doing a location shoot recreation of her husband’s murder right in front of the apartment where she still lives. Freaks. Plus, Jared Leto is way too cute to have gained a whole bunch of weight to play Chapman. That was yesterday. I suppose this is what I get for living near the Dakota.
Oh, and I have to go to Mexico tomorrow (today?). For work. Just for a few days. I keep telling myself that, and I’ve truly only packed for travel through wednesday, but with the sickness, and the tiredness, and the cipro dizziness, I’m not exactly psyched in any event. Even though it does mean warm weather. Mmmm. Warm weather when I’m taking crazy antibiotics that require me to stay out of the sun. But hey, while I’m gone, my dad’s going to hang the shelves that I finally ordered for above my desk. Thanks Dad!! So that’s exciting.
I’m normally not one to get caught up in the whole music nostalgia thing, and I like the Beatles just fine, but when I woke up this morning, NPR was broadcasting a pretty lengthy tribute to John Lennon, who was killed on this day, twenty-five years ago.
It was a little surreal – and it made me pretty sad, and I think in part it may have to do with the fact that my apartment is on the same block as the Dakota, and I now walk past the spot where it all happened on almost a daily basis (even crazier? That my stepmother, the prior resident of this apartment, had actually been living here for a good two years when it happened). There’s usually at least a few tourists out there, trying to get to the "spot" (since it’s actually inside the entryway to the courtyard, the doormen usually don’t let them past). This Saturday, there was a bigger crowd than usual, and the poor doormen were actually having a pretty rough time trying to keep the gawkers from climbing on the building pediments. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I go outside today…
I have some memories of that day. I was only six years old, but my parents were devastated, and I remember watching the memorial services and crowds around the block (my block) on TV all day. I don’t think we left the house. I realize that living in New York, I live near history every day, but I’m normally not so conscious of being so close to it.
Anyway, I didn’t really have anything coherent to post on this subject – I just needed to get the thoughts out before I walked outside…
The reason I was actually up in my new ‘hood tonight was because I had tickets with friends to see Lucinda Williams at the Beacon Theater. Which was awesome, because she’s always awesome. This is the third summer in a row that we’ve seen her play (last year also at the Beacon and the summer before that in Central Park). I love her so much that I even bought her Live at the Fillmore CD when it came out, ignoring the fact that I already own the original albums with almost all of the songs already.
Tonight she actually played a bunch of new stuff (she tests out new songs on her audience), and for the most part it was pretty great. But the best part of the show? Was when she said that she had an old friend backstage that she was going to ask to come out and help her sing a song…
…and it was Elvis Costello. People in the audience kind of went nuts at that point. They were great together, and it was just such a great little surprise.
