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January 28th, 2008
06:03 pm - Recorded books: what a difference a reader makes
Debbie and driving: we don't like each other much. So when driving alone, I frequently have a book on cd playing to try to give myself a reason to want to be in the car.
But what a difference a reader makes. Recently I listened to Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex, an excellent book read aloud by a real ham of an actor/director dude (who actually won an award for this recording, so obviously many felt otherwise about the performance). The book was so good that I put up with the irritating breathy way he did all women, from very old to very young, the heavy accents, and the sense of "man am I GOOD" that permeates his every word. This guy is so in love with the sound of his own voice that the book doesn't shine through the way it should. Argh.
Then I listened to a okay/pretty good book that was so skillfully read that I actually looked for reasons to drive by myself. John Connolly's The book of lost things, read by Stephen Crossley. I was spellbound- a really good reader can carry you into that world (like Inkheart, but the other way around), and make you seriously think about what it is to be there- and here- and how the two relate. The book's themes are love/redemption/loss/grief/acceptance- nice, if somewhat overdone subjects- but Crossley didn't overact anything and didn't milk moments for pathos. Lots of different accents and moods, all distinct, all little gems. He's evidently a stage actor, too. I wonder if he's as good on stage as he is on recording. Maybe he can't move.
Anyway, to be read aloud to is a glorious thing, especially sometimes. How many of you still read aloud to others and are read aloud to?
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January 10th, 2008
02:34 pm - movies
We saw so many over winter break!
Into the wild.
The great debaters.
The water horse.
Sweeney Todd.
I really do love going to the movies. Don't get to often enough. It's just such a (potentially) wonderful experience. Like theater, but cheaper.
Is celluloid the great equalizer? The way to get artsy/thinking/life-altering material to the masses who can't afford the $50. a a decent theater seat costs? And don't even get me started about Cirque du Soleil, it's extraordinary, it is the glorification and celebration of performance and dream-expanding and all that, and who gets to go? People with a lot of $.
Don't the people who don't have $ tend to need the life-expanding/dream-altering experience MORE than those who do? I mean, in the gross generalization sense, because of course misery and hard knocks cross all kinds of lines- color lines, socio-economic lines, etc.
Anyway, despite the (mild) Hollywoodization of the first two movies listed above, I really enjoyed them. I could get all nitpicky about it, but _The great debaters_ especially had me leaving the theater feeling optimistic and that we are not all doomed to watch our civilization collapse. _The water horse_ is sweetly sentimental and has incredible scenery, and _Sweeney Todd_ is- pretty much the same. I know many of you hate it, but I tend to enjoy Tim Burton's indulgences, and didn't object to Johnny's raspy voice at all. And Helena can't sing- but it's okay, she looks perfect and I actually don't think a real voice is essential to Mrs. Lovett's character. The kid who played Tobey, on the other hand, really can sing- fabulous boy soprano. Sondheim seems to have one easily melodic/memorable song per musical: here my vote goes to "not while I'm around" though i can no longer recall the melody- heh heh.
You disagree? You say Sondheim is not like Puccini, all recitative and a few snatches of melody?
Okay, I challenge you to name me a singable/memorable song from "A little night music" besides "Send in the clowns".
Ditto for "Into the woods".
I didn't say I didn't like him- I'm just saying that catchy, singable tunes are not his long suit.
Just one more thing:
I'm almost always the last person out of the theater- like to read the credits. So leaving _The great debaters_, I'm picking up our soda/popcorn debris, and the clean-up crew lady THANKS me. Criminy. We should ALL be picking up our own trash!!! And then I started thinking about the many accidents of fate that have kept me from being (at the moment, at any rate) the clean-up crew at the movies- parents that encouraged my dreams and supported my education, that taught me to respect and value knowledge and culture and intellect, a solidly middle-class background and income that made much of what I wanted to do possible- there's no real equality, is there?
Sigh. Just call me liberal guilt, I'll answer!
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December 7th, 2007
10:35 am - xmas and caroling and all that
hah hah, my pretties.
The finest time of year approacheth.
It's time for CAROLING.
Saturday, 12/22/07, 7 - 9 p.m.
The RonTon residence- y'all know where it is.
Start and end at the homestead- end with cookies and hot spiced cider (or, as Cody says, hot apple juice.)
Bring the Santa hats and flashlights- cookie donations welcome, too.
And we're growing so large a group these days, if you have a book of lyrics, you might wanna bring it too. Bc even with sharing lyric books, we might run out.
Those of you who have portable instruments (Cody? Bonnie? Victor, how about Isabelle's violin?) other than your voice are welcome to bring them.
But beyond that, Golden Compass starts today, and a movie outing is in order- I'm thinking maybe next Saturday, 12/15? Show that is closest to 6 p.m. in downtown Berkeley? (I work that day.)
So much to catch up on! but for the moment, let me just say that it is thrilling to be an unfettered teen librarian again, with Playreaders and book club in swing, and knitting starting up in January, and film retrospectives for teens at Central and yes, even the Quilt Show rears its lovely head for 2008!
heh heh
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September 5th, 2007
05:38 pm - this is sewious
"Wonder Pets, Wonder Pets, we're on our way,
To help a baby animal and save the day.
We're not too big and we're not too tough
But when we work together we've got the right stuff!"
No, I haven't gone utterly loopy. I've just discovered a marvelous TV show on Nick Jr, which is essentially opera for preschoolers. Don't believe me? Check it out! Three pets live in a preschool. After hours, the tin can phone rings- it's always a baby animal in need of help from our Wonder Pet Trio. Linny is a guinea pig and the brains of the outfit. Tuck is the tenderhearted turtle. Ming Ming is the duckling with a lithp, who always sings "this is sewious!" They do most of their lines in recitative, but there are recognizable choruses (like the one above) where viewers will feel compelled to join in. The instrumentation is very classical and nicely done, and it's so damn cute. There's even a NYTimes article in appreciation of the Wonder Pets. But don't take my word for it- watch it yourself, and you'll see why Jim was calling in from work during summertime mornings to ask which baby animal the Wonder Pets saved today!
Damn, I feel like a commercial. Even for something as great as the Wonder Pets, this is not a good thing.
Okay. SHOUT OUT to all you newbie freshmen, Debebbie is thinking of you and starting to assemble the sock creature packages. Tombo is missing you all like you wouldn't believe, he loves "his teenagers" and gets so depressed when you all go away. So you may get Tom-produced trading cards and what not in your packages too.
If you haven't given me address at college, do it. NOW. or never get your creature.
love you all!
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June 30th, 2007
02:34 pm - and this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream
gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.
Tombo WAS Puck at yesterday's Shakespeare Camp performance. He was wonderful. As his doting mother, I am nonetheless somewhat capable of describing his performance w/o too much revolting mother bragging.
First of all, he was typecast. Completely. That kid is so Puckish to begin with. But he can also project, enunciate, and stays in character all the time he's on stage. He cheats out, too. He reacts to his fellow actors, and sparkles with energy and joy. Which is all part of who he is, and works very well on stage.
Music is Audrey's gift- I think the stage may be Tombo's.
other news flashes:
Sarah, the larger of the two turtles, was attempting to emulate Geoffrey's hunger strike. She lasted nearly two weeks, but last night polished off her grapes and worms. Good girl, Sarah!
Audrey came back from a week in Hawaii with a great tan (sauf for the peeling shoulders), shorts that say MAUI on her butt, dolphin earrings and chocolate macadamia nuts for the family. Good Girl, Audrey!
I am taking tap dance lessons. I am not as horribly bad as I thought I might be, but even dead, Fred Astaire will never have anything to worry about. If I could have quicker response time knowing right from left, it might help. However, it is waaaaay fun.
I'm having a hard time figuring out how to get us all together for something. Some of you work- some have school- weekends are tough bc I work a lot on weekends to make up for my halftimedness (which is LOVELY, btw). I'm free Mondays and Thursdays-
Thoughts, people?
OH! I nearly forgot! Ashlyn says we can use the church (across the street from Thousand Oaks Elementary, near Solano in North Berkeley) to do Bizarre Shorts! So we need to schedule a time to talk about how to make this happen.
I'll send a Playreaders bulletin about this special limited time offer- which, bc it has NOTHING to do with the library, does not need to be limited to teens only. Older former teenlike people most cordially invited to participate, as actors, directors, etc.
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February 6th, 2007
10:02 am - Geoffrey EATS!
Geoffrey is the smaller of our two turtles.
He tried to hibernate, and went on a 6 week hunger strike. I thought we were living with America's Next Top Turtle- you'd put his dinner in front of him and he'd quite literally turn and run away from it to the opposite corner of the tank. Turtle with Eating Disorder! Every day we'd try again- every day he'd tell us in no uncertain terms that although he was happy to swim in the bathtub and walk around on the rug and snuggle in pants legs, he was just not gonna eat, thank you very much.
So why, you may well ask, didn't we just let him hibernate? Ain't that the natural thing to do?
Yes. But in our unnatural world, hibernating turtles means getting their environment down to to 40 degrees and keeping it there. Hard to do. Which is why Mark, who got us the turtles, had advised against our letting them hibernate, bc too often they don't get hibernated properly and so don't come out of hibernation.
As readers of this LJ know, Mark was our dear good friend who died on 11/1/06. So losing Geoffrey would have been just too much.
Bless the little bugger, on Friday, 1/19, he looked at his dish of mealworms and fruit and said, "WOWZA, that looks good" and dove in and crunched his wormies and looked around for more. Been eating and pooping and doing everything he's supposed to since.
I hadn't realized just how worried I was about him until the worry was gone.
Pets are a wonderful thing.
Even thought Best-Cat-in-the-World Rabbit did throw up on the bed this morning around 4 a.m.
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December 1st, 2006
01:50 pm - rituals- need your input
A dear good friend feels like she is not getting the guidance/input/opportunity from her current religious group in terms of the need to create and perform rituals: initiation, coming of age
rituals, vision quest, etc.
Some of you have done these things. Sometimes in an organized fashion, with the support of a community and/or religious group, sometimes in a marvelously spontaneous blowout (I'm thinking Codornices Park). I'm also thinking about a certain graveyard experience I had with e.e.cummings. Also about a night in August 2005, that involved singing in the streets and (almost) breaking into the cemetery, fueled by sugar, success and sadness. Anyway- talk to me about it. Please.
Also open for discussion: the value of ritual. I personally think it can be beyond awesome. Or wholly disgustingly meaningless and worthy of sneers. Whadda YOU think?
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November 22nd, 2006
06:31 pm - time to tell the story
So here goes.
Mark was a longtime dear good friend. We both worked at the North Branch Library, he from 1989-1994, me lots longer. On one especially busy day when we'd all been charging around, a fellow coworker (the magnificent Ella) said to me as I whooshed around the corner, "Say, who the heck are you, anyway? What's your name again? Is it Millie?" And that's how I became Miss Millie to Mark. And since I had a title, so did he- Mr. Mark.
Mark was easily the grossest individual I've ever known. Even grosser than me. But I got him once, when I made a tampon cake for a home viewing of Carrie. He actually turned green and started backing up out the door.
Mark was extended family- "family of choice". He was there at Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, St. Paddy's, caroling (until his lungs really gave out) and every time we moved, hauling our boatloads of stuff.
Mark was a devoted amateur scientist- in the latin sense of the word amateur. He science'd because he loved it. He read voraciously, and omnivorously. Not a lot of fiction, but enough. However, he was a splendidly well-rounded science generalist, in addition to being an expert on all things reptilian, especially monitor lizards. The bibliography of his papers and books is staggering.
Mark was the catalyst for the lizard crap on North Branch's rug. One day he brought in the BIG monitor, named Gracie (all 5 feet of her) to visit. She had had a fish meal before coming over. We all petted her, and urged our buddy, Mark's supervisor Warren, to do the same. Warren didn't want to, but we left him no choice. So he touched Gracie tentatively with one finger, and she lifted her tail and let loose and my GOD did it stink.
Mark was a bullshit artist. He'd happily spin yarns for you forever. Watching him with kids at the library, especially Danny, the fascinated by JFK conspiracy theory kid, was wonderful. But what made it work was that he really did know a lot. It was hard to separate the bullshit from the truth, so you tended to believe him.
Mark was the most loyal friend I have ever had. When the library fiasco started, he wrote to the Library Board, the Berkeley Daily Planet and to the director at least once a week. Many of his impassioned, eloquent letters were published. I'm so glad I saved them. But he wasn't just loyal politically. He helped us out in any way he could- and he did, frequently, whether it was supplying turtles for Tom, moving hundreds of boxes of books, painting, packing, or just being around to share a beer and a laugh.
Mark was 46 when he died. He defied medical history by surviving birth. He was waaaaaay premature, at a time when we didn't have the super good drugs around we do now to help those premie lungs inflate and get the muck out of them. As a result, he went through life with a swamp full of crud in his lungs- always. I teased him because he sounded like a castrato- high and wheezy.
Mark was born in a bedpan, on July 16, 1960, in San Francisco. Seriously. His mom was in the hospital for premature labor, she thought she had to take a dump, she asked for a bedpan, and out came Mark. What I don't know is if she crapped at the same time, or if Mark was the only thing that came out.
Mark died on November 1, 2006, on the 6th floor of Alta Bates hospital in Berkeley. He had been in a diabetic coma since Wednesday, October 25. There was major damage to his brain, and no way he could come back as anything other than a vegetable. As his brother Mikael said, "It's a no-brainer". On Halloween, 16 of us gathered in his room at the hospital, and after they pulled the various plugs, we stood by his bed with a hand on him and said our farewells. We listened for hours as he fought and struggled for every breath. I realized- finally- the level of the fight Mark had gone through every day of his life to breathe- as we listened to him. Some of us left. Some stayed. I came back the next day in time to watch his eyes, closed for so long, open. What did he see? It wasn't scary. There was no fear. No wonder, either. Mark was a firm believer in Valhalla. I sincerely hope he saw his wonderfully eccentric mother Inger, his beloved dog Faeces, and his scientific heroes: Darwin, Cousteau, all those French lizard dudes whose articles I used to translate for him. If there is a Valhalla, he won't need my translating skills anymore. I hope there is beer there, and the evil Tomatin whiskey he likes so much.
How the hell are we going to celebrate St. Paddy's without your wheezy tenor, Mr. Mark?
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November 2nd, 2006
03:54 pm - seeking your worst jokes
Yesterday our dear good friend Mark died.
It really bites.
In honor of Mark, please post a reply to this entry, that contains the most off-color, politically incorrect joke you can think of. I promise not to reveal your identities, as I then circulate them to Mark's good friends, who are all urgently in need of something funny.
Say hey, all of you- consider yourself hugged. Know you all make an impact in my life, and the lives of many others, I have no doubt. Keep on doing and being.
lovelovelove,
the dd
p.s. He died on the Day of the Dead. How cool is that?
p.s.s I was there when he kicked the bucket and one day I promise to write about it. For now let me just say that from a scientific point of view, it was fascinating. From an emotional point of view, it was- well, words fail me just now.
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October 4th, 2006
02:48 pm - Mark this date: Sunday, 10/22, 7 p.m.
It's that time of year.
Family concert time.
Debbie and Audrey get all dressed up and play music for people in public. Debbie even wears make-up- now that's noteworthy.
7 p.m.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Free!
(goes without saying)
(email me and I'll tell you where)
Debbie plays Bach and Bartok- Audrey plays Haydn and Mlynarksi (yes, that is a correct spelling!). And little Albert plays Czardas (ask Megan or Brenna, it's waaaay fun) and Nardini and his mom Satoko plays Chopin and Debussy. It's Short (less than an hour), and you gotta see Audrey's dress. Mine ain't bad either. And there will be brownies after.
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