the weblog @ interbridge.com
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Sue Trowbridge lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. She is the co-owner of an independent record label, 125 Records, and web diva of interbridge.com.
Feedback: loudfan@gmail.com

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01.30.04 outbid

The BPLF auction closes on Sunday, and the item I was bidding on is currently up to $500. Five hundred freakin' dollars. (Shakes head ruefully.) Maybe I'll check in right before the auction closes and see where things stand, but I have to admit, it's not looking too hopeful.

At least the Berkeley public library will benefit, and that's all to the good. Libraries rule!

Last night: the very last night of the San Francisco Film Noir Festival. A pretty good portion of the 1,400-seat Castro Theater was filled. We booed when Eddie Muller stated that it was the closing night of the fest (no more movies, waaaah!); we cheered when he announced that he was going to start working on programming the 2005 event. In two short years, SFFNF has become the largest film noir festival in the country. The fact that in this city, thousands of people will come out night after night and watch old movies from the 1940s and 50s -- that to me is reason enough to stay here forever, despite the high cost of living and the traffic. San Francisco rules!

The final attraction was "A Double Date With Ann Sheridan": "The Unfaithful" and "Woman on the Run." In "The Unfaithful," the onetime Hollywood "Oomph Girl" plays a war bride who was, yes, unfaithful to her husband while he was overseas. Her lover pops back up, leading to murder, a tangle of lies, deceit and misery, etc. etc. The film is elevated by two great supporting performances: Lew Ayres as a cynical divorce attorney and Eve Arden in, well, the Eve Arden role -- the wisecracking, quick-witted dame who steals the show whenever she's onscreen.

"Woman on the Run" is a fabulous thriller about Eleanor (Sheridan), whose husband Frank witnesses a gangland murder and goes underground to escape retribution. Things haven't been going so well in their marriage lately, so you might imagine that Eleanor would let him go and be done with it. But that could be fatal -- Frank has a heart condition and doesn't have his pills with him. Eleanor dashes all over San Francisco in search of her husband, and in the process, realizes that perhaps they do have a future together after all, as long as she can find him before the gangster looking for him does. Extra credit for having a cute dog in a significant role. Dogs rule!

"Bachelorette" Watch: Meredith keeps motormouth Ryan M. and cuts local cutie Todd, who, miracle of miracles, actually has a sense of humor (check out his web site). Most of the contestants take it all so seriously. Next week, I'm hoping to learn how to tell the difference between Chad and Brad.

 

01.29.04 an open letter to john kerry

Dear Sen. Kerry,

I must admit I was surprised to see you come from behind in the polls to scoop up victories in Iowa and New Hampshire. To be honest, I hadn't paid much attention to your campaign. I haven't decided who to vote for, and I have yet to contribute a dime to any candidate, but I've had flirtations with Howard Dean and Wesley Clark, signing up for both of their e-mail lists. Still, my mind is thoroughly open.

Could you do me a favor, though? It seems like every time I see your photo in the newspaper, or view a clip of you campaigning on TV, a certain someone is lurking in the background. Yes, I'm referring to the puffy red visage of Ted Kennedy. Now, I know he's your buddy and all -- he's been your colleague in the Massachusetts delegation for many years -- but, Senator, do we have to make it any easier on the Republicans campaigning for Bush's reelection? Teddy is like red meat to them. Every GOP advertisement will feature him prominently, repeating the message that you're nothing but an old-fashioned Massachusetts Democrat. Remember Dukakis? Boy, I do.

Anyway, Senator, I think you need to put the emphasis on war hero and fiscal responsibility and stuff like that, and leave Teddy back in the Bay State once in a while. This campaign isn't about him -- it's about you.

Oh, who am I kidding -- you'll be outspent, outplayed and outmaneuvered by Karl Rove, Dick Cheney and the rest of that sinister gang. In October, they'll probably ensure victory by capturing Osama bin Laden or something. I'm not going to get too attached to you, the same way I try to avoid new TV shows, figuring that if I really enjoy something, it'll probably wind up being cancelled. (I'm still bitter about "Andy Richter Controls the Universe" and "Sports Night.")

Good luck -- you'll need it.

Sue

Last night: Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Bottom of the Hill. It was a sell-out and extremely crowded, and I felt old because I found myself wishing every venue was like the Freight and Salvage, where the show starts at 8, you can sit in a chair, and they sell herbal tea and chocolate chip cookies. Nevertheless, Ted -- who, with his elastic face and improbably large mouth, reminded me of a young Jim Carrey -- rocked the joint, playing the hell out of his guitar and screaming/ singing until his black, short-sleeved button-down shirt was completely drenched with sweat. Whew. The odd thing is that his bass player, who looked alarmingly like one of the hobbits from the Lord of the Rings movies, was completely cool -- there wasn't even a pit stain on his long-sleeved shirt. Plus, he was making serious eye contact throughout the entire show with the girls in the front row. Focus, dude, focus.

I kept waiting for them to play "Ballad of a Sin Eater," my favorite song from Hearts of Oak and one I figured would kick serious ass live. They played song after song, no "Ballad." Then Ted said goodnight, but they didn't leave the stage to wait for the audience to call them back for an encore, because that would have involved walking down the steps and into the crowd. There's no "backstage" at BotH. So they just started playing again, and finally, the very last song was "Ballad of a Sin Eater." I can see why they saved it 'til last -- it was so loud and intense and powerful that even a band that rocks as hard as Ted Leo's couldn't have followed it up. Ted gave maracas to a couple girls in the crowd, and one of them -- an extremely tall redhead wearing a tiara, the cardboard kind you get at little girls' birthday parties -- jumped up on stage and used her maraca as a pretend microphone, singing a faux-duet with Ted. It was a beautiful moment, the kind of thing that reminds you why sometimes it's OK to be crushed by a crowd and stay out way too late on a weekday night.

One word of advice: if you go see them, wear earplugs. I did, and it is doubtlessly the only reason my ears aren't ringing today.

 

01.28.04 reanimator

Was surprised to note that I've actually seen four of the five Oscar nominees for Best Picture. I didn't think that would be the case this year -- I figured "The Last Samurai" (Cruise=vole), "House of Sand and Fog" (too depressing) and/or "Big Fish" (trailers made it look like annoying, sentimental claptrap) were likely nominees. But the only film I haven't yet seen, "Master and Commander," is one I may yet get around to. I've been waiting for it to show up at the Parkway.

Last night: "Seriously Disturbed Dames" double feature at the Castro; however, it could have easily been called "Flashback Night." First up: "The Locket,", starring Laraine Day as Nancy, an about-to-be-wed cutie whose ex-husband crashes the party to warn her fiance that Nancy is hiding deadly secrets. This is one of those films like "The Three Faces of Eve" where it turns out one pivotal event in the heroine's past is the cause of all her present-day woes. The movie takes place almost entirely in flashback, and then there's a flashback within a flashback (featuring a young Robert Mitchum!), and a flashback within a flashback within a flashback. Whew.

Festival impresario Eddie Muller has been touting "Decoy" as the must-see movie in this year's lineup. Long out of circulation, "Decoy" stars English actress Jean Gillie as Margot, a hard-as-nails moll whose gangster boyfriend, Frank, is on Death Row for a killing that took place during a robbery. Before he went to prison, Frank hid the $400 grand he stole and refuses to divulge the location. Margot comes up with perhaps the most inventive prison-break scheme ever: She's going to wait until he's been executed in the gas chamber, then arrange to have his corpse whisked to a doctor's office where Dr. Craig (Herbert Rudley) will reanimate him using a substance called Methylene Blue. You bring a guy back to life, he's got to spill his secrets, right? "Decoy" is the noirest of the noir, full of cheating, scheming, greed, two-timing and cold-blooded murder -- no wonder it's become almost legendary, despite its scarcity. Oh yeah -- the movie is told, you guessed it, in flashback.

 

01.27.04 the doctor is out

"The Dr. Phil Show" has been running an extremely dull series called (ugh) "Booty Camp" in which the doctor helps slightly overweight people lose a few pounds by teaching them about the joy of eating salads and exercising a lot. The happy, skinnier folks always say something like, "I never knew exercise was so much fun!" Cue a shot of smiling people at the gym, lifting weights and pedaling Lifecycles.

I have never found exercise to be "fun." However, in the interest of not turning into a total couch potato, I work out about five days a week. Three times a week, I go to a women-only gym called Curves, which I joined because it promises a full-body workout, including both weights and cardio, in just 30 minutes. The franchise I attend has a wide range of clients, ranging from teenage girls to octogenarians. Since the workout involves exercising to music, what kind of tunes can you play that will please everyone in that super-diverse crowd?

Answer: none. So Curves goes for the little bit of everything approach. The CDs, which are produced at company headquarters in Texas and distributed to the franchised outlets, contain music ranging from country to oldies to classic rock to new wave -- often, all on a single hour-long disc. (Believe it or not, you can actually buy them yourself at dynamixmusic.com.)

Having attended Curves for an entire year, I've had the opportunity to hear them all, over and over again. (The owner of my local Curves said they receive a new CD approximately every six weeks, so the discs tend to get played into the ground.) Here is my personal list of the Best and Worst of Curves.

BEST:

1. Quincy Jones and his Orchestra, "Soul Bossa Nova": Also known as the "Austin Powers Theme." I could listen to this for 30 minutes straight. This song never fails to put me in a good mood and make me move my feet.

2. Anonymous Cover Band, "Love Lies Bleeding": The performers who cover songs for the Curves discs range from decent to awful (see below). This remake of the Elton John classic is actually quite good, and really, it's such a wonderful song. I wouldn't have thought it would be good to exercise to, but it is.

3. Sylvester, "(You Make Me Feel) Mighty Real": This song reminds me of my cute gay aerobics teacher from many years ago who always played stuff by Sylvester and Grace Jones. Great song.

4. Blondie, "Heart of Glass": One of the few 70s/80s-type hits that I never get tired of.

5. Vengaboys, "We Like To Party!": It's stupid, it's disco, it's totally mindless -- in other words, good aerobicizin' music.

WORST:

1. Anonymous Cover Band, "Whip It": I almost fell off the glute machine when this track started up -- it's that bad. Have you ever been to one of those company parties where it's obvious that the whitest white guy in the entire firm hired the band? This wouldn't even pass muster if you were really, really drunk.

2. Johnny Cymbal, "Mr. Bass Man": Part of the evil, evil 50s and 60s-novelty-tune CD -- the only disc that has actually caused me to leave the club and come back later in the day when something else is playing. Ugh.

3. Del Shannon, "Hats Off To Larry": More bad stuff from the pre-Beatles days. Del is so thrilled that his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend (the titular Larry) dumped her. Not quite as annoying as "Mr. Bass Man," but close.

4. Anonymous Cover Band, "Love Shack": The same guys who do "Whip It," except now the faux-Mark Mothersbaugh is a faux-Fred Schneider. Marginally better than "Whip It" because the girl singers are OK.

5. Barry Manilow, "Copacabana": Curves actually plays two completely different versions of this 70s nightmare -- the original, and a dance music cover version which omits part of the verse (the section that goes, "And then the punches flew/ and chairs were smashed in two..."). But who cares, really? They both suck.

 

01.26.04 whitelist

I never thought it would come to this, but the spam pouring into my interbridge e-mail address finally got so overwhelming that I set up a whitelist. Basically, what that means is that if people who weren't already in my address book try to e-mail me, their mail will go into my spam folder. (The yahoo.com address at left still accepts all comers.) This morning, I had a grand total of one piece of e-mail in my inbox. I hurriedly checked my spam folder, figuring there would be tons of false positives. Nope; I deleted 50 pieces of spam. Ah well; considering the amount of e-mail I usually get, just having one makes for a nice change of pace.

Yesterday: Castro, "Crawford vs. Stanwyck." Sorry, Babs, you lose this round. First up: "Witness to Murder," featuring Ms. Stanwyck as a feisty career gal who happens to look out her bedroom window and spots a man committing a murder in an apartment across the street. This film was made years before "Rear Window," by the way. Barbara goes to the police and strikes up a nice little romance with the police lieutenant. Unfortunately, the killer (George Sanders) -- an ex-Nazi, so you know he's really evil! -- manages to convince everyone that Babs is delusional and she gets committed to a mental hospital, where one of her fellow patients is billed in the credits as, I kid you not, "The Negress" (Juanita Moore).

Really, "Witness to Murder" is a fine little film, and at a super-brisk 80 minutes, it never lags. But it was followed by "Sudden Fear," which is like a 747 jetliner of entertainment compared to the first movie's BART train. Joan Crawford's Myra Hudson is a wildly successful playwright who also happens to be a filthy rich San Francisco heiress. She happens to meet up with actor Lester Blaine (Jack Palance), whom she rejected for the romantic lead in her last play because he is, well, kind of weird looking. However, Lester wins her over, and soon he and Myra tie the knot.

Enter Gloria Grahame as Irene, Lester's not-so-ex-girlfriend. They hatch a plan to kill Myra and then enjoy her inheritance. In an amazing scene, Myra learns of their treachery -- and decides she's going to fight back. I like the fact that the characters' professions were not chosen arbitrarily -- Myra has to use her plotting skills as a writer to concoct a plan to foil Lester and Irene, and Lester relies on his acting ability to fool Myra into thinking he loves her. By the climax of this movie, I was literally sweating, it was that suspenseful. This was truly a great performance from Crawford, then in her late 40s. Nothing against Stanwyck, it's just that "Sudden Fear" was a much better showcase for Joan's acting ability than "Witness" was for Barbara's.

GWB dream: I dreamt that my mom was gloating about the fact that W is a lock to win reelection in November. (Note: my mom is not a gloater, and while I suspect she's a Republican, it doesn't matter because she's not an American citizen and thus can't vote here.) She dared me to come up with a scenario in which Bush would lose. The only thing I could think of was if he was struck by lightning and the GOP ran Laura in his place. You know, Laura Bush might well draw more votes than Dick Cheney.

 

01.23.04 we'll have a gay old time

My blog's readership has leaped into the low double digits. I feel like I now have an obligation to my vast reading public, so I am composing this entry at 11:45 PM. First of all, congratulations to Rog for correctly guessing the identity of the Berkeley Public Library auction item I'm bidding on (and am still the high bidder on). The auction closes Sunday the 1st at 6 PM, which is during the Super Bowl. Of course, the sort of people who bid on a library auction may not be football fans. I'd better be ready to defend myself against snipers.

This afternoon: Castro, "Technicolor Noir." The first feature was 1947's "Desert Fury," which the program guide described as "outrageously gay." Apparently clips from it have shown up in documentaries on gay Hollywood. First, you've got finishing school dropout Paula (Lizabeth Scott) breaking up the very, uh, cozy relationship of two gangsters, Eddie (John Hodiak) and Johnny (Wendell Corey). Johnny isn't thrilled to be losing his long-time companion to a dame. Paula's mom Fritzi (Mary Astor), who owns a gambling joint, doesn't want her disobedient daughter spending time with Eddie, either. Maybe since I was at the Castro, I was focused on the Eddie/Johnny pairing, but at the end of the film, mom and daughter reunite, and Paula has just one request of her hard-drinking, slacks-wearing mom: "I want you to kiss me." Which she does -- on the lips. Definitely an odd little film.

Next up was "Leave Her To Heaven," a lavish melodrama featuring Gene Tierney as the world's most gorgeous homicidal maniac. She hooks up with novelist Richard (Cornel Wilde), who is the spitting image of her deceased dear ol' dad. This lethal daddy's girl wants to make sure that absolutely nothing, and nobody, interfere with her precious "alone time" with her beau -- even Richard's adorable, handicapped little brother. Of course, it's obvious that Gene's Ellen Berent will get what's coming to her at the end of the film, since the Hays Code demanded that no one can get away with murder. Vincent Price chews the scenery in a small role as Ellen's ex-fiance.

 

01.22.04 nora vs. meredith

Last night: Ibsen's "A Doll's House" at ACT. Like the last play I saw at the Geary, "Waiting For Godot," "House" is a play I've been hearing about for years but had never seen. I have to say that I got a lot more out of "House" than "Godot." This is just a ripping great story. Pretty, flighty, seemingly the perfect wife and mother, Nora is actually keeping a secret that could rip her life apart. Her husband, Torvald, has just gotten a lucrative new job as a bank director. Unfortunately, Nora's secret involves Nils, one of Torvald's new employees -- a rather creepy and unpleasant man that Torvald is planning to fire. Intrigue! Suspense! I would have been on the edge of my seat, if there had been some leg room in front of my chair (the Geary is not known for its comfortable seating).

The ultra-fabulous René Augesen played Nora. Really, this has to be one of the most demanding roles ever written, and she handles it with aplomb. I also have a lot of admiration for Gregory Wallace's performance as Nils; he has to be intimidating, but the character is also kind of a loser, so he can't be too overpowering. Both Augesen and Wallace are members of ACT's core company, so regular theatergoers get to see them tackle a wide variety of roles (Wallace played Estragon in "Godot").

While I was watching this 19th century domestic drama play out, I was TiVo'ing "The Bachelorette." Sigh... maybe someday I'll outgrow my reality show obsession and read Dostoyevsky in my free time. Meredith extended a rose to self-proclaimed "high-maintenance metrosexual" Rick. Girl, what were you thinking? What kind of guy refers to himself as a metrosexual? That's just weird. I am now wholeheartedly rooting for Todd, and not just 'cause he lives here -- he's got a great sense of humor and isn't in the cookie-cutter mold of, say, Matthew, who has the most rectangular head I've ever seen. I'm also feeling a bit of the Ian love. Check out those cheekbones.

Mailbag: Paula writes, re: the auction item I'm bidding on: "Is it the Ayelet Waldman character? Or the reading lamp?" No and no, though the reading lamp would no doubt be top notch (I wrote an article on Sue Johnson for the Bay Guardian about a million years ago). I have never read any of Waldman's books because they are dubbed "The Mommy Track Mysteries," and I am soooo not the target audience. I've heard they're fun and maybe I'll pick one up someday, but I'm afraid they don't sound like quite my cup of tea.

 

01.21.04 ancient chinese secret

Actual sign on Bay Bridge: "Feng shui your commute: take BART." First of all, the usage of "feng shui" as a verb is deeply irritating. Secondly, "harmony" and "balance" are not the words that come to mind when one is, say, riding the Pittsburg-Bay Point train during rush hour.

Made it through Monday night without watching either "American Idol" or "My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance." Am still proud of shunning "Average Joe," "The Apprentice" and "The Surreal Life." The reality TV addiction is hard to break, but I have to try. Of course, I haven't gone cold turkey, as I am still watching "The Bachelorette." How can you not love a show that has among its contestants a professional suntanner, a la Zonker in "Doonesbury"? The onetime "Mr. Power Tan" finalist is Keith Kormanik and he hails from my former home of Towson, Md. (just north of Baltimore). Sadly, Meredith booted his orange ass at the first rose ceremony. Geographically speaking, I guess I'll be rooting for Brad, the 29-year-old pharmaceutical salesman from my other ex-home, Grand Rapids, Mich., or Todd, who owns a brewpub in Marin.

 

01.19.04 mlk day

This afternoon: Since it's a holiday, I figured I had an excuse to sneak out and see another film at the Noirfest. I drove to The City in 25 minutes and found a parking spot three blocks from the theater. Ah, holidays. Anyway, today's selection was "Tomorrow Is Another Day," the story of a hard-luck, dime-a-dance gal and an ex-con who find themselves on the lam after the shooting death of the gal's cop boyfriend. Love blooms, and the now-married pair starts a new life working in the lettuce farms of Salinas. But can they truly escape their pasts?

A couple of observations: first of all, Bill, the ex-con, went to prison at the age of 13 (!) for shooting his abusive father, and was locked up for 18 years. Cathy, the dame, is the kept woman of a crooked cop. Since "Tomorrow" was made in the early '50s, the film doesn't dwell on the fact that it's about the love affair of a virgin and a woman who's been around the block a few times, but it's an interesting angle. Also, I wish we'd learned some more about Cathy's past. What made her so tough and cynical? Her hard veneer melts away once she and Bill settle in Salinas -- the taxi dancer seems to morph into the perfect housewife, and transforms their bare-bones cabin into a cozy nest. Hmm, maybe it is a very '50s movie after all.

 

01.18.04 savage love

One of my least-favorite times of year is approaching. From Jan. 20-Feb. 3, my favorite radio programs will be rudely interrupted by the KQED Winter Pledge Drive. I am a real public radio junkie, and yes, I do financially support my local stations. But I just hate, hate, hate the pledge drives, when "Marketplace" and "All Things Considered" end early to make room for 10 minutes of please-call-now yakkin'. I take some comfort in the fact that I can switch over to KALW, which usually runs its beg-a-thon after KQED's -- oh, the horror when they overlap -- or listen to programs on the web. And, of course, I'm grateful that my favorite programs will still be on during the drive, albeit in abbreviated form. What if radio drives were like the TV ones, and "Fresh Air" was bumped in favor of Suze Orman specials and Bee Gees concerts?

I am bidding on an item in the Berkeley Public Library's online auction. I shall not reveal which one, but people who know me well can probably figure it out. My current bid is just north of $200. I am willing to go a little higher, but not that much higher. Darn it, people of Berkeley, that item needs to be mine! Mine, I tell you!

Friday night: My friend and client Eddie Muller is one of the coolest men in the Bay Area, and his annual Noir City film festival at the Castro has quickly become the place to be in late January. This year's fest is running for two full weeks, screening films obscure ("Decoy," "Desert Fury") to popular ("The Postman Always Rings Twice," "Mildred Pierce"). The Noirfest is one of two times each year that I truly feel the sting of not living in The City (the other is the San Francisco International Film Festival in April). Even now, I feel a vague itch to be at the Castro, sitting in the dark, watching an old Ida Lupino picture. I love the Castro Theatre, but the neighborhood is absolutely impossible to park in, and it actually costs more to make the BART/Muni round trip from the East Bay than it does to buy a ticket to a double feature!

Anyway. I did make it on Friday for the opening reception and screening of "Detour," featuring star Ann Savage in person. A lively 82-year-old, Savage was happy to share stories of filming the 1945 B-movie, in which she plays a scheming hitchhiker. The movie is a brisk 70 minutes long, and Savage's tough-gal performance was definitely the highlight.

 

01.16.04 plastic surgery disaster

Spalding Gray -- still missing. The suspicion is that he may have jumped from the Staten Island Ferry.

And now, more bad celebrity news: Olivia Goldsmith is dead after complications resulting from anesthesia during plastic surgery. (She was reportedly having some loose skin on her neck removed.) Now, Goldsmith, who was only in her 50s, was never going to win a Nobel Prize (or even a National Book Award) for her fiction, but her books were fun. Especially The Bestseller, which is one of the best examples of "popular fiction" I've ever read -- a real page-turner. I've read every single one of her novels, and was looking forward to the new book coming out this spring. I still am, but now reading it will be a bittersweet experience.

Last night: David Sedaris at First Unitarian Church in San Francisco. He sold out a whole week of performances here at $30 a pop, which I will admit seemed steep for a reading, but seeing him is such a treat. He was trying out material from his next book, Dress Your Family In Corduroy and Leather -- the title came from a dream his partner, Hugh, had. The best story, about Sedaris's pre-fame experiences as as housecleaner, involved an oppressively hot apartment, blood sugar testing, a porn video called "Ft. Dicks," and the secret significance of the words "Fire Island." He also read a story about his search for the perfect home, which turned out to be the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, and told us about the continuing adventures of his brother, "The Rooster." His tales are so delightfully odd, and hearing the author read them in front of an appreciative audience is a sublime experience.

 

01.14.04 it's a slippery slope

Scary news about actor/monologist Spalding Gray.

Gray was a favorite at the Geary Theater in San Francisco, where he performed many of his monologues, often appearing near the end of the year. For a time, seeing Gray at the Geary was a holiday tradition of sorts. The last time I saw him was in late December 2001, when he performed a slightly retooled version of his classic "Swimming to Cambodia." 2002 & 2003 passed with no local appearances by Gray. Turns out that during that time, he attempted suicide several times. Considering that history, friends & family of the performer are understandably concerned right now.

I am grateful that I had the opportunity to experience Gray's brutally honest, vivid storytelling -- he is really able to bring the listener into his world, and I sincerely hope that someday he will be able to weave the tale of his disappearance into a spellbinding monologue.

 

01.13.04 a fine whine

I guess writing in this thing hasn't exactly become a daily habit yet.

This has to be one of the most hilarious things I've seen on the web recently: the NPR Vintage Collection, "a series of premium wines that bear exclusive NPR commemorative labels." I guess NPR has decided to fully embrace the image of its listeners as chardonnay-sipping BOBOs.

Saw Gene Wilder speak at City Arts & Lectures last night. Even though he was doubtlessly answering questions he'd been asked a thousand times before ("How did you meet Mel Brooks?" "How did you get the idea for 'Young Frankenstein'?"), he had a knack for answering every query so thoughtfully and openly that one never got the sense that he was reciting anecdotes he'd told over & over again. One interesting tidbit: Wilder, a Method actor trained by Lee Strasberg, was so convincing in the famous "blue blanket" scene from "The Producers" because he imagined that the blankie was his dog Julie, who had recently died, and he was nuzzling her fur. When Zero Mostel grabbed the blanket away from him, in Wilder's mind, he was being separated from his beloved dog.

 

01.02.04 power mac

The holidays are over, the new computer has been hooked up, and I am trying to figure out how to use this BBEdit thing before I need to start doing real work again. Oh, I know that eventually I will be comfortable working on all this new software and with the idiosyncracies of the Mac, but it's been seven years since I last used one, and what can I say, things have changed a lot. For now, the smallest things seem like victories -- I just figured out how to hard-wrap and soft-wrap text in BBEdit documents. Hoorah! Now I just need to learn how to re-order my bookmarks in my Web browser and I'll be well on my way.

Why did I decide to get a Mac, when I could have spent probably a third as much to get a brand new PC, not to mention retain the ability to use all of my old software? This page has a lot of good reasons, and this article gave me a lot of food for thought. But as I promised one of my PC-lovin' friends, I'm not going to turn into one of those nutty Mac zealots.

Anyway. I'm hoping to use this weblog to publish occasional reviews & observations. Believe it or not, I used to make a living as a writer. It's been a while since anybody paid me to write anything. Now I can write without the unpleasant taint of money changing hands. What fun!

 

All content © 2004 by Sue Trowbridge