What’s this? Television producers ruin a perfectly good story because they don’t understand it? Bah! Never happens. What does Ursula K. LeGuin know anyway? She’s only the stupid author.
A Whitewashed Earthsea: How the SciFi Channel wrecked my books
Rackspace has decided to put all you good little flash game addicts to work. Based on how well you do at their target shooting game, they will donate a certain amount of money to the Cystic Fibrosis Trust.
I realize that with your busy schedule of online chatting and virtual pool real work, you don’t have time to fire tiny presents at cartoon kids, but do it for the children. Shoot something at the children, at least!
[ via Kevin ]
Just got back from the holiday concert at my kids’ high school. Let me tell ya, you just haven’t experienced the holiday season until you’ve heard the Dreidel Song played by a steel drum band!
Seriously, they did a version of “Carol of the Bells” with all percussion instruments that was incredible. I think I would have bought the CD even if my kids weren’t in it.
Yes, that’s the title we’ve settled on: “A Potpourri of Noise”
Back when I started recording songs and putting them up on the blog, some delusonal folk requested a CD of them. Me being me, I couldn’t just slap a song or two on a piece of plastic and mail it to them. Hell no! I had to make a big production out of it. So, finally, with just a couple of weeks to spare, my New Year’s Resolution is almost ready. I’ve finished re-mixing (and re-recording parts of) some of the earlier songs, and I’m just waiting on cover art by my evil twin sister, that most brantastic of brans, to arrive in the mail (I’ve seen the original pencil sketch and it’s awesome).
I may also wait to finish a version of “Staring At The Sun” by the Offspring that will feature my son, Whiny the Elder (who is currently struck with laryngitis) and a song with my bestest friend. But in any case, it’s close enough to find out how many of the things I need to burn.
If you would like me to send you a CD, please e-mail your address to me at solonor AT gmail DOT com.
It’s been building up for four years. Four years twenty years of excuses. I don’t have the equipment. I don’t have the money. I don’t have the time. I can’t sing. I can’t write songs. It’s gotta be perfect. But somehow, I finally got over all that crap, and it’s mostly thanks to you. I don’t think I’d be daring to do this without your general lack of disgust. Thank you.
Besides my long-suffering spouse (who’s had to listen to me whine about this for 18 years), I especially want to thank my most ardent supporters: the inspiringly awesome MJ, my other bestest friend, Ric the Schmuck, Domino, Cableman, JustAGirl, NotSoRedMenace, Bitter Kat, JadedJu, Busy Mom, Jools, Michele, Somewhat, PromoGuy, Karan, Sibeal, Jenni, Linkmeister, Kat, JR, Scott, and anyone else who’s encouraged this foolishness.
Christmas affords little blogging time. Sorry.
Here. Watch this. It might be good. Not holding my breath…but it might…
The concert last night was held in the beautiful, old Annie Russell Theater at Rollins College (which is on the National Register of Historic Places).
I’m always fascinated by places that were named after someone most people have never heard of today. How many streets and buildings in your town are called “John Doe Avenue” or the “Jane Smith Memorial Library”? Who were they? They must have been someone at one point (or rich enough to buy a building with their name on it).
Annie Russell was a big star on stage in England and in America the 1880’s and 1890’s. By age 19, she was sick of being typecast as the “young ingenue” and quit. When she came back, she was more in control of what she was doing and took on more meaty roles. For the last six or seven years of her career (until 1918) she organized and ran the Olde English Comedy Company, directing and acting in various plays by Shakespeare and others. Her friend, Mary Louise Curtis Bok Zimbalist (who founded the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia) dedicated the theater in Annie’s memory.
Shakespeare’s plays were a major source of entertainment in the days before radio, movies and television. I found a really cool site that uses postcards as a study of theater at the turn of the twentieth century. They have postcards showing the plays and the players, including a couple of Annie Russell as Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Best Christmas concert ever.
They had us rolling on the floor laughing with their second number (“Twelve Days After Christmas”) and had the Mrs. all teary-eyed with their third (“The Gift”). I heard a soloist (Joe Erwin) who will make me pause before I ever pretend to sing again. There was an inspiring number called “Not in Our Town” (based on the true story of the people of Billings, Montana, rising up against hatred in 1995). There were traditional pieces, like “Winter Wonderland” and “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” and even the “Hallelujah Chorus” (with cue cards for the audience). Sherri was part of a smaller group called “Homophonic” (uh-haaa) that did a traditional piece with guitar and recorder called “Solstice Carol.” It was wonderful. The whole thing was wonderful.
If they didn’t practice on the same night as our church choir, both the Mrs. and I would audition. (And if our choir director snaps at the sopranos one more time, she might just go anyway!)
Ack! What a busy weekend. Besides the Metroblogger meetup on Friday, there was Christmas shopping, putting up the tree, and watching all the Christmas specials we could eat. Grinch, Charlie Brown and Muppets back-to-back… we’re so full of Christmas spirit it’s oozing out every pore… or we ate bad seafood… hard to tell, really… Today we sang the entire “Gloria” by Vivaldi and didn’t suck.
Side “we’re so going to hell” note: During Christmas, the choir processes down the aisle during the first hymn. At the head of the line is a person bearing a golden cross. Pepperkat has that duty this year. We’ve taken to calling it “cross-on-a-stick,” thus our ticket to hell is assured.
Tonight, we are going to see Sherri sing with the Orlando Gay Chorus in their Christmas concert at Rollins College.
Some of my closest friends are people I’ve never even met. (And I’m not just talking about the “oh you read my blog, you’re my friend” thang, neither.) Sherri and I met 10 years ago and haven’t seen each other since (though she lives just about an hour away). And we hadn’t spoken to each other for years, but now are blog buddies. It’s a strange internet world we live in, folks…
I am happy to report that all participants in the first meeting of the Orlando Metrobloggers survived more-or-less intact.
What a bizarre day. Everything’s gone shuttling back-and-forth between being incredibly sucky to whiz-bang peachy (usually within a minute of each other).
This day needs Prozac. Badly.
Off to meet up with those whacky Orlando Metrobloggers at a Japanese restaurant tonight. With luck, there won’t be any bloodshed.
