Hey Matt Smith.
Here's the deal:
1) My interview at the Arden Theatre in Philly is scheduled for 2pm on Thursday, May 27. This means we'll either a) have to leave Pittsburgh on Wednesday night and stay with some friends of mine (well, my brother's... I guess they're more acquaintances of mine, but nevertheless, very cool and hospitable people) or b) have to leave Thursday morning at the ass-crack of dawn. I'm rooting for option A, simply because the ass-crack of dawn is a time I see a lot of, and I don't think driving across the state in the that-time-of-the-morning mood is a very good idea. So, of course you're welcome to stay with my sister and me at her/my new place all that week, if indeed you do come into Pittsburgh in week or so. It'll be good clean fun -- unless we make you clean something, and then it'll be sort of clean fun, but still good all the same.
2) After the interview in Philly, we'll be heading into NYC, which is about a 2 hour drive, and it's something I've never done before, so it'll be frightening as hell, which I hear is pretty scary. That aside, we do have a place to stay -- and ironically, the person we'll be staying with is originally from Philadelphia, so he knows the drive like the back of his hand. (I can only blindly assume that he's one of those people who spends a lot of time looking at the back of his hands. I mean, I don't do that personally, but there are apparently a lot of people who do that, if it's become such a popular simile.) His name's Lee, and he's going to be a great New York City tour guide for us. He lives on the Upper East Side (again, I don't know how to get there, and we'll probably die trying, but that's fine, right?) and I think he's taking most/all of Friday off to take us around and show you things. His only stipulation is that you don't steal from him. He didn't say anything about ME stealing from him, so I guess THAT'S okay... We're going to have to park the car in a garage for 3 nights, and that's probably going to cost us a bit (hence the stealing), but Lee's going to talk with a few of the nearby places to see if he can get a total lower than $120 out of them. We'll see.
3) As for money, I don't have a lot of it -- and we'll need gas, food, parking, and show ticket money. Show tickets I can tell you are $45 each, and once I figure out mileage, I'll know more about the gas thing. Food's pretty much up to us, I guess. If we stock the car with munchies and a cooler, I think we'll be better off than if we bought it along the way. (Yay for road trips!) So, think about that.
4) Let me know when you're planning on getting here, and if you're coming by bus, and if I need to pick you up, and if you're staying with me, and all that other stuff. My old phone number still works until the end of the month and I'll send you the new one, which is the phone we'll have on the road with us. I don't want to post it here, because then everyone who reads this (all two people... me and Anne Brannen) will now have my phone number. And that would just be sad. Although I wouldn't mind hearing from Anne Brannen, there's always that slim chance that some oddball crazy person -- aside from Anne -- would be able to track me down. (But the phone itself is pretty choice -- it's got a little alien on it. I told my friend, Lee, that and he said, "Yeah, Meredith... we're trying to turn down the crazy." Whatever.)
So that's what life looks like right now. I don't have a large trip fund -- because after our excursion, I'm headed to Punta Cana! Yay! (So, yeah... more on that later. Meredith's Vacation Episode #2 still to come.)
Love,
Meredith
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Thursday, May 13, 2004
I don't know where you've gone, Matt Smith. I hope you're out there in cyberspace somewhere -- in the dark recess of time and space between Spain and Goshen, Indiana -- and I also hope that you call me at some point. There've been some addendums to our travel plans, and I gave them the go-ahead, hoping against hope that you'd be around to, y'know, go. We'll talk about that later, though, a)because it's two weeks away, and we don't plan two weeks in advance. Hell. We don't plan two days in advance... b)I just don't have the time to tell you all about it now, although it involves Interview #2 at the Arden Theatre in Philadelphia (yay) and some stops along the way, and c)I really don't think you're reading this blog at all, so it's all for naught.
I've been doing a lot of outside activities lately -- the weather is fantabulous. (I guess you could more rightly call them "non-activities." The last day of finals, after my directing final at 11am, I drove over to Schenley Park, not really having a set destination and ended up falling asleep for about 2 hours. It was the feeling of done. I'm done.
And really, yay for being done.
Yay for the done not really sinking in until next fall.
Yay for heat and sunshine and having very little to do.
Yay for the fluid feeling of driving, and the sunroof that's broken.
Yay for discovering that even though the sunroof is broken, it does go to the "UP" position.
Yay for old men who happily drive around in sports cars in this fine weather.
Yay for my Ninja-like avoidance of my Starbucks stalker (and his fat baby) yesterday at work.
Yay for my spy-ways -- like knowing how to get to the far end of 376E without going through the Squirrel Hill tunnels, and knowing how to get back to Fifth Ave from Penn Hills without getting back on the bastardized 376W.
Yay for planning vacations, or the lack thereof.
Yay for summer cocktails -- the fruity, refreshing goodness.
Yay for drinking a lot of water.
Yay for my cat, who discovered the awesomeness of his new best friend, the fan.
Yay for that customer at work who asked why we skipped spring and moved straight into summer.
Yay for me -- I told that customer it was to get a jumpstart on construction.
Yay for angry people, who can't help but be happy in the sunshine.
Yay for the sidewalk, even though it bit me twice.
Yay for the late afternoon.
Yay for the early evening.
Yay for finding someplace to see all the stars you can see.
Yay for drive-in movie theatres.
Yay for little blue Volkswagens.
Yay for cardboard boxes, iced grande nonfat chai lattes, strawberry lemonade, grass, sunflowers, bluebells, yellow roses, deodorant, the clicking sound that my cat's claws make, my pull-out sofa bed, DVDs, Disney movies, contact lenses, Jill Sobule, WYEP, Subarus, trying to find a job, snow peas, flip-flop sandals, driving barefoot, donut shops, STEAK!, golden retrievers, Gabby's green tie, my mom, my new toggle cap, permanent markers, duct tape, my roommate, the backseat of my car, marachas, my new cellphone, picnics, brie cheese, the Enrico Biscotti Company, gin and tonics, Icky the cat, high cheekbones, Dave and Andy's ice cream, parking meters, clowns, shiny new pennies, graduation, and of course, Matt Smith.
-- Meredith
I've been doing a lot of outside activities lately -- the weather is fantabulous. (I guess you could more rightly call them "non-activities." The last day of finals, after my directing final at 11am, I drove over to Schenley Park, not really having a set destination and ended up falling asleep for about 2 hours. It was the feeling of done. I'm done.
And really, yay for being done.
Yay for the done not really sinking in until next fall.
Yay for heat and sunshine and having very little to do.
Yay for the fluid feeling of driving, and the sunroof that's broken.
Yay for discovering that even though the sunroof is broken, it does go to the "UP" position.
Yay for old men who happily drive around in sports cars in this fine weather.
Yay for my Ninja-like avoidance of my Starbucks stalker (and his fat baby) yesterday at work.
Yay for my spy-ways -- like knowing how to get to the far end of 376E without going through the Squirrel Hill tunnels, and knowing how to get back to Fifth Ave from Penn Hills without getting back on the bastardized 376W.
Yay for planning vacations, or the lack thereof.
Yay for summer cocktails -- the fruity, refreshing goodness.
Yay for drinking a lot of water.
Yay for my cat, who discovered the awesomeness of his new best friend, the fan.
Yay for that customer at work who asked why we skipped spring and moved straight into summer.
Yay for me -- I told that customer it was to get a jumpstart on construction.
Yay for angry people, who can't help but be happy in the sunshine.
Yay for the sidewalk, even though it bit me twice.
Yay for the late afternoon.
Yay for the early evening.
Yay for finding someplace to see all the stars you can see.
Yay for drive-in movie theatres.
Yay for little blue Volkswagens.
Yay for cardboard boxes, iced grande nonfat chai lattes, strawberry lemonade, grass, sunflowers, bluebells, yellow roses, deodorant, the clicking sound that my cat's claws make, my pull-out sofa bed, DVDs, Disney movies, contact lenses, Jill Sobule, WYEP, Subarus, trying to find a job, snow peas, flip-flop sandals, driving barefoot, donut shops, STEAK!, golden retrievers, Gabby's green tie, my mom, my new toggle cap, permanent markers, duct tape, my roommate, the backseat of my car, marachas, my new cellphone, picnics, brie cheese, the Enrico Biscotti Company, gin and tonics, Icky the cat, high cheekbones, Dave and Andy's ice cream, parking meters, clowns, shiny new pennies, graduation, and of course, Matt Smith.
-- Meredith
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
In honor of my forthcoming vacation, here's a little break for you, Matt Smith. And now, as they say, for something completely different:
BRANNENISMS:
A COLLECTION OF QUOTES FROM THE MOUTH OF DR. ANNE BRANNEN
On God:
“Aha! There’s Jesus, lookin’ just like a gardener!”
“Glad I could clear up that theological problem: He’s God.”
“Humans often pretend to be God. It’s never good.”
“While Jesus was harrowing Hell, someone had their cell phone on.”
“That’s logic. ‘Should you chew Jesus’s body?’ No.”
“Isn’t that nice? God is sane. This makes me cheerful.”
“God’s very shiny.”
On Lucifer and his demons:
“It has been set up so that they’re actually paying to see the Devil. Which, by the way, they’re not supposed to do.”
“As if it’s [Lucifer’s] idea to fall into Hell…”
“It’s crucial that you like the Little Demons.”
“Sometimes you have long spaces of demonic hilariousness.”
“Demons are especially bad at messing with the audience.”
On being a subtle angel:
“They’re very unsubtle, angels.”
“Whoa. It’s the Marys. Quem quaeritis?”
On unobtrusively holding a palm in your hand:
“I’d like for you all to go home and practice that.”
On the sprinkling of holy water:
“Great. My silks have been blessed.”
On the slaughtering of innocents:
“Lassie! Lassie! The innocents have fallen in a well!”
On interpretations of the Bible:
“And then Herod did taketh his sword, and did try to whack the star from afar.”
“Vatican II? Is that when limbo bit the dust?”
“Religion: According to Me. Why I Don’t Work in the Theology Department.”
On “The Greatest Hits of the Cycle Plays”:
“Gee, I wonder if Basingbone might put on a St. George play this year?”
“They’ve hired a fiddler.”
“What do they do to earn money? They have what are known as ‘church ales,’ which are the equivalent of bake sales… with beer.”
“Woo-hoo! The crucifixion!”
“It’s like… The Three Stooges Crucify Christ.”
On what Noah’s wife could’ve said:
“Oh, did you talk to God today? How’s he doin’?”
On biblical realizations:
“Well, it starts raining. That’s a bad sign.”
“ ‘Cause apparently he’s not a stupid child and has noticed that they have brought no goats.”
On making a pitch to the Red Masquers:
“Castle of Perseverance! You can do this in your backyard!”
On Mary Magdalene:
“She’s a princess… and she has a castle. I love Mary Magdalene.”
“Jesus has died and we have the harrowing of Hell… but we don’t see that… because we’re in Marseilles!”
“And then a priest shows up in the wilderness because… one just does.”
“And so Mary goes to Jerusalem, with her new friend, Lust… and they go to the bar.”
“Mary’s good now… which is nice.”
“She’s preaching… which, as we know, women were not supposed to do… at this time. But it’s okay, because she’s Mary Magdalene, apostola apostolorum, and the star of our show!”
“This is actually the only instance in the history of drama – that I can recall – wherein the audience becomes the ocean.”
“The child is not dead, but apparently will be soon, on account of his being left with a dead woman.”
“Then, caeli gaudent… which you would assume, I guess. I suppose whenever someone gets assumed into heaven caeli gaudent.”
On Herod:
“He’s the guy who can’t control anything.”
On singling people out, whether or not to:
“I would.”
On how to seduce a woman:
“You’re cute. Real cute. I mean, cute.”
On the Middle Ages and humans therein:
“Mercy: The Rin-Tin-Tin of the Medieval World.”
“Oh the horrible Middle Ages! And then the Renaissance came and everything got better… Oh yes. Didn’t it just?”
“They probably called it, ‘That Play With the Little Demons In It.’”
“And what a life it was in the Late Middle Ages!”
“Times like this you could say, ‘The Reformation. Coulda seen it comin’.”
On humans:
“Most of the humans don’t actually think.”
“You’ve been studying Shakespeare. I know this because you’ve been growing up in America. And you’ve been breathing.”
“We are, indeed, paying attention to the stinking dunghills which are our bodies.”
“The truth of the matter is, not all of the humans are happy when they have to sing a Peter, Paul and Mary tune.”
“The humans are not moderate. Even the ones who look kind of quiet.”
“And they all follow the star. And we do, too. ‘Cause we’re human.”
“History tells us that adultery does not usually work out well… But the humans are going, ‘Well… maybe this time…’”
“None of us can ever know what we mean to another person in their heart.”
“I’m really looking forward to not being one anymore.”
On the theatre world, costumes, and props:
“Your wardrobe mistress would kill you with her knitting needles.”
“I mean, you can hit people with your shovel… but… it’s not good in a war.”
“We’ve got space here and a little distance… but we have no fourth wall! Danger!
Danger!”
On spelling and grammar:
“It’s just like the prod… prod… prodig… pro-di-gal… you know… that guy who goes away and then comes back?”
“CHI-VAL-RY”
“ ‘Iwis’ means, ‘really, truly, no kidding.’”
“I spit on spelling. And I don’t play Scrabble.”
On sarcasm, and how it should be used on Dr. Jay Keenan:
“Dryden. We love him. He’s so… deep.”
On 7-year old sons, and what to say when one tells you he wants to be a writer:
“My son understands that there are different levels of discourse.”
“Great. I am so glad.”
On Everyman:
“I’ve become reconciled with Everyman.”
“It’s so nice to be reconciled with to Everyman. I kind of missed it while we were having a fight.”
On the projector screen:
“No, no! You’re a bad thing! I hate you!”
On learning things from characters in plays, whether or not to care for them and what to do if we did:
“What’s wrong with you? Go to therapy! You! Get your pants on!”
“If I learning anything from this play, it’s not to let my wife run around with a priest. Which, in my case, is sort of irrelavent. I mean, there’s something about pies and a candle and a bucket, but it’s not taking me anywhere.”
“If there is anyone there that is connecting with him, he is the most uncomfortable guy there… having the worst time.”
On audiences:
“Because, all of a sudden, we’re sitting in his living room… with nefarious designs upon his coat.”
“You’ve just had a nice little dinner, and you’ve had a play about the wonderfulness of your system.”
On the Medieval and Renaissance Players:
“We stand for inferior drama.”
On Medievalists:
“This is what we Medievalists do. We take the baby and put it in the bathwater, and then we find another baby and put it in, and then another, and another. And then… we take all the babies out and go, ‘We don’t know what happened!’ And then we take the babies later and rehabilitate them.”
On plays, interpretations of:
“It’s as if society’s supposed to be boring.”
“It takes all the ideas of the nobility out to their logical, stupid conclusion.”
“Here is my lesson. I am a Medieval allegory.”
On Anne Brannen:
“This is because I am in no way predictable.”
“You wouldn’t think I’d need a calculator. But… I’ve met me.”
“I’m the non-Barry Manilow alto.”
“I need constant reinforcement on account of the incredible badness of me.”
“I live right next door to Liza Minelli.”
On the classics:
“Oh… too bad for you, Oedipus! Here’s your curse! Ooop! Marryin’ my mother! Thought she was somebody else!”
“Poison in the ear. How often did that happen?”
“Indeed, how can we love somebody else until we go stab someone? That’s why the divorce rate’s so high. There aren’t nearly enough revenge tragedies.”
On things to say to students at Duquesne:
“Late would be, like… later.”
“They put me in a bad room for standing on desks.”
“I need a graduate volunteer and an undergraduate volunteer to administer the Holy Sacred TEQs of Our People.”
“I’m changing the subject… and it was subtle!”
“No! Let’s have a bake sale!”
“What is a piget?”
“That wasn’t funny, was it? I blame SpongeBob.”
“It’s really good to see you. I’m really excited about the part where you’re not dead.”
“Stop writing things down!”
On Joe Barron:
“Our Ignorance was so ignorant.”
On good and bad ideas, the fine line between:
“He was arguing for the Reformation of the Church… Oh well!”
“And then the Bad Angel said, ‘Go and get your son.’ And Mankind did say, ‘Okay. That’s a good idea.’”
“There may have actually been some whips and chains… not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
On Bumper Stickers for England:
“England – We Love It!
“The Queen – Good Stuff!”
“England is an entire field of mud.”
On things not said in the Middle Ages – or ever:
“Gee, I think I’ll sit down and read the Castle of Perseverance!”
On the dead, death, and dying:
“Ay, these are spectacles to please my soul! Grr-eat.”
“… and when they died, which was the fashion then, as it is today…”
“… it makes me want to go kick some dead people.”
“Later on, we’ll be able to see without mirrors… meaning when we’re dead… not, y’know, next week.”
“We care so deeply about [religious issues] that we’re going to slaughter thousands of our countrymen.”
On modern vs. medieval insanity:
“If you run into anybody on the bus going, ‘Ha ha ha ha!’ would you please come let me know?”
“Meanwhile, back in Jerusalem… ‘Out, out, harrow!!!’”
On deep thoughts:
“You don’t know where the edges are unless you can feel them.”
BRANNENISMS:
A COLLECTION OF QUOTES FROM THE MOUTH OF DR. ANNE BRANNEN
On God:
“Aha! There’s Jesus, lookin’ just like a gardener!”
“Glad I could clear up that theological problem: He’s God.”
“Humans often pretend to be God. It’s never good.”
“While Jesus was harrowing Hell, someone had their cell phone on.”
“That’s logic. ‘Should you chew Jesus’s body?’ No.”
“Isn’t that nice? God is sane. This makes me cheerful.”
“God’s very shiny.”
On Lucifer and his demons:
“It has been set up so that they’re actually paying to see the Devil. Which, by the way, they’re not supposed to do.”
“As if it’s [Lucifer’s] idea to fall into Hell…”
“It’s crucial that you like the Little Demons.”
“Sometimes you have long spaces of demonic hilariousness.”
“Demons are especially bad at messing with the audience.”
On being a subtle angel:
“They’re very unsubtle, angels.”
“Whoa. It’s the Marys. Quem quaeritis?”
On unobtrusively holding a palm in your hand:
“I’d like for you all to go home and practice that.”
On the sprinkling of holy water:
“Great. My silks have been blessed.”
On the slaughtering of innocents:
“Lassie! Lassie! The innocents have fallen in a well!”
On interpretations of the Bible:
“And then Herod did taketh his sword, and did try to whack the star from afar.”
“Vatican II? Is that when limbo bit the dust?”
“Religion: According to Me. Why I Don’t Work in the Theology Department.”
On “The Greatest Hits of the Cycle Plays”:
“Gee, I wonder if Basingbone might put on a St. George play this year?”
“They’ve hired a fiddler.”
“What do they do to earn money? They have what are known as ‘church ales,’ which are the equivalent of bake sales… with beer.”
“Woo-hoo! The crucifixion!”
“It’s like… The Three Stooges Crucify Christ.”
On what Noah’s wife could’ve said:
“Oh, did you talk to God today? How’s he doin’?”
On biblical realizations:
“Well, it starts raining. That’s a bad sign.”
“ ‘Cause apparently he’s not a stupid child and has noticed that they have brought no goats.”
On making a pitch to the Red Masquers:
“Castle of Perseverance! You can do this in your backyard!”
On Mary Magdalene:
“She’s a princess… and she has a castle. I love Mary Magdalene.”
“Jesus has died and we have the harrowing of Hell… but we don’t see that… because we’re in Marseilles!”
“And then a priest shows up in the wilderness because… one just does.”
“And so Mary goes to Jerusalem, with her new friend, Lust… and they go to the bar.”
“Mary’s good now… which is nice.”
“She’s preaching… which, as we know, women were not supposed to do… at this time. But it’s okay, because she’s Mary Magdalene, apostola apostolorum, and the star of our show!”
“This is actually the only instance in the history of drama – that I can recall – wherein the audience becomes the ocean.”
“The child is not dead, but apparently will be soon, on account of his being left with a dead woman.”
“Then, caeli gaudent… which you would assume, I guess. I suppose whenever someone gets assumed into heaven caeli gaudent.”
On Herod:
“He’s the guy who can’t control anything.”
On singling people out, whether or not to:
“I would.”
On how to seduce a woman:
“You’re cute. Real cute. I mean, cute.”
On the Middle Ages and humans therein:
“Mercy: The Rin-Tin-Tin of the Medieval World.”
“Oh the horrible Middle Ages! And then the Renaissance came and everything got better… Oh yes. Didn’t it just?”
“They probably called it, ‘That Play With the Little Demons In It.’”
“And what a life it was in the Late Middle Ages!”
“Times like this you could say, ‘The Reformation. Coulda seen it comin’.”
On humans:
“Most of the humans don’t actually think.”
“You’ve been studying Shakespeare. I know this because you’ve been growing up in America. And you’ve been breathing.”
“We are, indeed, paying attention to the stinking dunghills which are our bodies.”
“The truth of the matter is, not all of the humans are happy when they have to sing a Peter, Paul and Mary tune.”
“The humans are not moderate. Even the ones who look kind of quiet.”
“And they all follow the star. And we do, too. ‘Cause we’re human.”
“History tells us that adultery does not usually work out well… But the humans are going, ‘Well… maybe this time…’”
“None of us can ever know what we mean to another person in their heart.”
“I’m really looking forward to not being one anymore.”
On the theatre world, costumes, and props:
“Your wardrobe mistress would kill you with her knitting needles.”
“I mean, you can hit people with your shovel… but… it’s not good in a war.”
“We’ve got space here and a little distance… but we have no fourth wall! Danger!
Danger!”
On spelling and grammar:
“It’s just like the prod… prod… prodig… pro-di-gal… you know… that guy who goes away and then comes back?”
“CHI-VAL-RY”
“ ‘Iwis’ means, ‘really, truly, no kidding.’”
“I spit on spelling. And I don’t play Scrabble.”
On sarcasm, and how it should be used on Dr. Jay Keenan:
“Dryden. We love him. He’s so… deep.”
On 7-year old sons, and what to say when one tells you he wants to be a writer:
“My son understands that there are different levels of discourse.”
“Great. I am so glad.”
On Everyman:
“I’ve become reconciled with Everyman.”
“It’s so nice to be reconciled with to Everyman. I kind of missed it while we were having a fight.”
On the projector screen:
“No, no! You’re a bad thing! I hate you!”
On learning things from characters in plays, whether or not to care for them and what to do if we did:
“What’s wrong with you? Go to therapy! You! Get your pants on!”
“If I learning anything from this play, it’s not to let my wife run around with a priest. Which, in my case, is sort of irrelavent. I mean, there’s something about pies and a candle and a bucket, but it’s not taking me anywhere.”
“If there is anyone there that is connecting with him, he is the most uncomfortable guy there… having the worst time.”
On audiences:
“Because, all of a sudden, we’re sitting in his living room… with nefarious designs upon his coat.”
“You’ve just had a nice little dinner, and you’ve had a play about the wonderfulness of your system.”
On the Medieval and Renaissance Players:
“We stand for inferior drama.”
On Medievalists:
“This is what we Medievalists do. We take the baby and put it in the bathwater, and then we find another baby and put it in, and then another, and another. And then… we take all the babies out and go, ‘We don’t know what happened!’ And then we take the babies later and rehabilitate them.”
On plays, interpretations of:
“It’s as if society’s supposed to be boring.”
“It takes all the ideas of the nobility out to their logical, stupid conclusion.”
“Here is my lesson. I am a Medieval allegory.”
On Anne Brannen:
“This is because I am in no way predictable.”
“You wouldn’t think I’d need a calculator. But… I’ve met me.”
“I’m the non-Barry Manilow alto.”
“I need constant reinforcement on account of the incredible badness of me.”
“I live right next door to Liza Minelli.”
On the classics:
“Oh… too bad for you, Oedipus! Here’s your curse! Ooop! Marryin’ my mother! Thought she was somebody else!”
“Poison in the ear. How often did that happen?”
“Indeed, how can we love somebody else until we go stab someone? That’s why the divorce rate’s so high. There aren’t nearly enough revenge tragedies.”
On things to say to students at Duquesne:
“Late would be, like… later.”
“They put me in a bad room for standing on desks.”
“I need a graduate volunteer and an undergraduate volunteer to administer the Holy Sacred TEQs of Our People.”
“I’m changing the subject… and it was subtle!”
“No! Let’s have a bake sale!”
“What is a piget?”
“That wasn’t funny, was it? I blame SpongeBob.”
“It’s really good to see you. I’m really excited about the part where you’re not dead.”
“Stop writing things down!”
On Joe Barron:
“Our Ignorance was so ignorant.”
On good and bad ideas, the fine line between:
“He was arguing for the Reformation of the Church… Oh well!”
“And then the Bad Angel said, ‘Go and get your son.’ And Mankind did say, ‘Okay. That’s a good idea.’”
“There may have actually been some whips and chains… not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
On Bumper Stickers for England:
“England – We Love It!
“The Queen – Good Stuff!”
“England is an entire field of mud.”
On things not said in the Middle Ages – or ever:
“Gee, I think I’ll sit down and read the Castle of Perseverance!”
On the dead, death, and dying:
“Ay, these are spectacles to please my soul! Grr-eat.”
“… and when they died, which was the fashion then, as it is today…”
“… it makes me want to go kick some dead people.”
“Later on, we’ll be able to see without mirrors… meaning when we’re dead… not, y’know, next week.”
“We care so deeply about [religious issues] that we’re going to slaughter thousands of our countrymen.”
On modern vs. medieval insanity:
“If you run into anybody on the bus going, ‘Ha ha ha ha!’ would you please come let me know?”
“Meanwhile, back in Jerusalem… ‘Out, out, harrow!!!’”
On deep thoughts:
“You don’t know where the edges are unless you can feel them.”
Monday, May 03, 2004
Mr. Smith,
I spent last night at Dee's at Tim Colbert's going-away party. Not the whole night. Just a little part of it. If I'd spent the whole night there -- like, slept at Dee's? -- that would've been strange. It was kind of stuffy there anyway. I wouldn't ever want to sleep in a bar. Well... that bar. I don't know about other bars. I never thought about it before.
On the above salutation: Yes. I think it's about that time in your life where people might call you "Sir" or "Mr. Smith." Of course, with all those people (waiters, mostly, I suppose) calling you Mr. Smith, we might have to postpone the trip to New York and go to Washington instead. But then you'd have to be Jimmy Stewart, and he's dead, so I can't work that one out at all in my head. Seriously though... I've been "ma'am"-ed, which is ludicrous. I'm not a ma'am, I've never been a ma'am, and I don't know if I'll ever be a ma'am. (Elliot the Flaky Barista calls every woman "miss." I think he just gets away with it because he has big ears like a little kid.)
Emma and I spent two hours in that cold room in College Hall watching "The Matrix." (You know the room... It's the one right next to the hot room? I think they're 104 and 105 and one's always hot and one's always freezing and Duquesne always throws the Comm courses in them.) This was supposed to be our "final." All in all, what it ended up being was an hour and a half nap and a half hour spent really NEEDING TO PEE. When we finally broke out of there, we made a mad dash (is there such a thing as a "happy dash" or a "sane dash..." maybe that'd be a hyphen) to the restroom where we had what could only be described as a "Zen pee." (Not to be confused with a tee-pee, as this one is not triangular in form.) It was glorious as only peeing after a long time of not peeing could be.
Things I've realized/noticed/discovered today:
a) When you've reached a certain in point in schooling, you remember everything else, but you forget your pen -- but then it's okay, because you're (well... I'm) almost done and it doesn't matter that you don't have a pen.
b) The World Wide Web is stupid. I don't know who came up with it, but it's awful. And it's the worst kind of awful, because I love it. There's not a thing I need to know out there that I can't find on the World Wide Web. And that's the problem.
c) There's not a single person that I know in the North Jersey/NYC area who is going to be home May 28-30. Which sucks for us. But, you know, whatever... we're going to see RENT.
Love,
Meredith
I spent last night at Dee's at Tim Colbert's going-away party. Not the whole night. Just a little part of it. If I'd spent the whole night there -- like, slept at Dee's? -- that would've been strange. It was kind of stuffy there anyway. I wouldn't ever want to sleep in a bar. Well... that bar. I don't know about other bars. I never thought about it before.
On the above salutation: Yes. I think it's about that time in your life where people might call you "Sir" or "Mr. Smith." Of course, with all those people (waiters, mostly, I suppose) calling you Mr. Smith, we might have to postpone the trip to New York and go to Washington instead. But then you'd have to be Jimmy Stewart, and he's dead, so I can't work that one out at all in my head. Seriously though... I've been "ma'am"-ed, which is ludicrous. I'm not a ma'am, I've never been a ma'am, and I don't know if I'll ever be a ma'am. (Elliot the Flaky Barista calls every woman "miss." I think he just gets away with it because he has big ears like a little kid.)
Emma and I spent two hours in that cold room in College Hall watching "The Matrix." (You know the room... It's the one right next to the hot room? I think they're 104 and 105 and one's always hot and one's always freezing and Duquesne always throws the Comm courses in them.) This was supposed to be our "final." All in all, what it ended up being was an hour and a half nap and a half hour spent really NEEDING TO PEE. When we finally broke out of there, we made a mad dash (is there such a thing as a "happy dash" or a "sane dash..." maybe that'd be a hyphen) to the restroom where we had what could only be described as a "Zen pee." (Not to be confused with a tee-pee, as this one is not triangular in form.) It was glorious as only peeing after a long time of not peeing could be.
Things I've realized/noticed/discovered today:
a) When you've reached a certain in point in schooling, you remember everything else, but you forget your pen -- but then it's okay, because you're (well... I'm) almost done and it doesn't matter that you don't have a pen.
b) The World Wide Web is stupid. I don't know who came up with it, but it's awful. And it's the worst kind of awful, because I love it. There's not a thing I need to know out there that I can't find on the World Wide Web. And that's the problem.
c) There's not a single person that I know in the North Jersey/NYC area who is going to be home May 28-30. Which sucks for us. But, you know, whatever... we're going to see RENT.
Love,
Meredith
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