— Monday was a laaaaaaaaaazy day.
— I woke up at the fiery crack of 7 am (very late for me) and made some coffee and blogged. Like a maniac.
— I read Innocents Abroad. I love his observations. I love the whole thing. There’s just nobody like Mark Twain. People have made entire careers out of trying to be like Mark Twain – but they never really succeed. He is a true American original, and I just love him.
— Alex and I lounged around FOR THE ENTIRE DAY.
— We watched an hour of I Love Lucy. You kind of haven’t lived until you have watched I Love Lucy with Alex. She knows every line of every episode. At one point, they came back from commercial, and within 1.2 seconds Alex said, “Wow. They just cut out a scene.” We saw two episodes – the one where Fred’s old vaudeville partner comes back into town – and apparently he is still doing vaudeville and has performed for royalty throughout Europe and Ethel and Fred feel embarrassed at their apartment, and their “lack of success” – so they ask Lucy to pretend to be their maid. Hilarity ensues. But then – they RIP YOUR HEART OUT during the dinner scene. Fred and his old vaudeville partner do a couple of numbers – and one was so … touching … that tears flooded my eyes. These two old gents, old warhorses in their own profession, sitting at the dinner table, singing “I want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad” – they sing it a capella … they harmonize – and it is filmed simply and honestly – all in one take. With one camera angle. I don’t know what it was that touched me so deeply – it was so many things. It just WORKS, first of all, as entertainment. It is a perfect moment … fully realized. There is nothing wrong with ANY of it. But also … it makes me sad, sometimes, to think that all the old vaudeville performers – the ones who were THERE – the ones who then made the segue to television and movies – are all dying out. We have lost a great resource. I mean, people come up now through television, and we have a lot of talent working, etc., no doubt about it … but there was just something ABOUT those performers who came out of vaudeville. There was something about them so trustworthy, so versatile, and so humble. They just showed up, did the job, and moved on. And more often than not, they NAILED it. You need a touching moment? I’m on it. You need me to do a ba-dum-ching laugh line? I’m on it. You need me to create a hilarious piece of physical business that will last for 10 minutes and keep getting funnier and funnier? I’m on it. So to see these two old jowly guys … singing in harmony … and the silence of the studio audience … and then the bursting applause at the end … I glanced over at Alex and she had tears streaming down her face, so I was glad to know I was not alone.
— I went grocery shopping. That was my big venture of the day. Other than that, I did not leave the apartment.
— We watched yet another one of the movies Alex rented – a harrowing documentary called Stevie. Argh. It was awful. I mean, it was a good film but it was extremely painful to watch. The filmmaker is a guy who was a Big Brother to a little troubled kid named Stevie – he loses touch with him – and then goes back to find Stevie and find out what became of him. It is not a good story. And DURING the filming of the movie – Stevie commits a crime … and the film then becomes about his trial, the appeals, and all of that. The people we meet in the film – they are unforgettable. Stevie’s fiance is a disabled woman who … well, you feel sorry for her, because she is with this horrible person … but she also, in a strange and limited way, knows what she is doing. She is not an idiot. Alex and I were absolutely blown away by her best friend – a bedridden retarded woman – who … she was just a philosopher, man. We called her “the bedridden philosopher”. She just talked it straight to Stevie’s fiance – and sometimes you could barely understand her, because of how she said words, but other times, she was clear as crystal. The whole film was wrenchingly awful, and unrelenting. Stevie was like a dog who had been beaten. The damage was done to him way early and the kid didn’t stand a chance. This does not excuse his horrible actions … but it does explain them a little bit. They go back to find the two people who were his foster parents for about 5 years – the only people who ever loved Stevie, who tried to help him, and who were there for him. These people (especially the wife) just blew our MINDS. There are some people who are just BORN to be foster parents. This couple were people like that. I sure as hell couldn’t do it. They were beautiful, and accepting, but also … tough as nails. You could see the transformation of Stevie in their presence – how he lightened up, and had fun, and relaxed. And you just wonder … what would have happened if those two hadn’t moved … and had, say, adopted Stevie? Horrible.
— We shake off the film. And then we get ready for an absolutely extraordinary night of television.
And then we get ready for an absolutely extraordinary night of television.
I don’t know if it’s good or bad that I can relate 100% to that statement, though I usually refer to it in its simpler form: Tuesday.
And then we get ready for an absolutely extraordinary night of television.
So even with TiVo, I was torn… ya got the John and Abigail Adams special on PBS, Las Vegas on NBC (yeah, I know, not the most intellectually stimulating, but have you seen Molly Sims, Vanessa Marcil and Nikki Cox, um, acting skills in the show? Plus there’s Josh Duhamel and James Lesure for the wife to ogle at; she’s not that into acting skills as I am) and, finally, 24 on Fox.
I took the “great unwashed” option of watching Las Vegas, recording 24(‘cus the show’s too exciting to watch through all the commercials; better to watch it the day after), and assuming that I can re-sched the Adams special again
American Idol tonight, heheheh.
I don’t know if they can match the horror/humor/mean-spirited rebuking that was Zach.
Random fact: Samuel Clemens is a distant relative of mine. My grandfather’s great-grandmother was his cousin. My grandfather has several early editions of his books, which we were never allowed to touch.
Glad you’re having a good time!
As a LA resident, I’m enjoying reading about your experiences in LA. Since you’re a fan of George Burns, I’m hoping you get to drive down the street named after him by Cedars Sinai, near Jerry’s Deli.
Tonight, it’s AI, then Battlestar Galactica on my TiVO, then The Shield on 1 hr delay. I’ll only have commercials for AI, and that’s passive viewing anyway. (Once Idol is back to 1 hr shows, Tuesday becomes epic: AI > House > Shield)
Then, if NoonzBaby is uncooperative in the sleep department, there’s always Emergency! Season 1 and Miami Vice Season 2 on DVD ready to rock.
Man, TV is so awesome.
I have read Innocents Abroad. It was years ago, though. I remember the guy who got sunburned in the Holy Land because he spent the whole day lying on his belly listening for “the voice of the turtle”. And Twain’s remark that the pictures he’d seen of Mary, Joseph, and a donkey making their way toward Nazareth didn’t jibe with his observations of the culture; he suspected that Joseph rode the donkey while the pregnant Mary walked. And the guy in the restaurant in Paris who bragged loudly about being an American, while Twain thought he should have mentioned being a lineal descendent of Balaam’s ass while he was about it.
So, er, what did you want to discuss?
And you have read Roughing It, right?
(I’ve enjoyed reading about your adventures.)
It was awful. I mean, it was a good film but it was extremely painful to watch…
Funny, that is EXACTLY how my wife describes such things. A common quote: “That was awful!”
(And the common follow-up from me until I got it through my thick skull that she meant something other than an awful movie: “You didn’t like it?” Ahem: duhhhh…)