EPISODE 515: Look Who's Here
How much peanut butter in a week is too much? Asking for a friend.
POP CULTURE SPIRIT WOW
Well this day went from normal la la la to the soufflé is collapsing and I am the ant that had decided to hike cross country across it. Blerg.
All of which is to say, this is going to be a tiny semi-tidy one.
A question for you: Have you found yourself taking on any new habits that have actually been kind of a welcome change?
I had something along those lines start about two weeks ago. It was late, I was up too late and I decided to visit the great Greenwich Village piano bar Marie’s Crisis on Facebook. I’ve never actually been to Marie’s, but I’d heard a lot about it and I love a good piano bar, so for some reason there I was, stumbling upon the fact that many of its performers were doing sets every night on the Facebook page.
So now, a couple nights a week, I’ve been popping in to listen to different performers doing everything from one song to a 90 minute set of showtunes. It is wonderful.
And it has led me to another unexpected find. Think of a musical that you always wished you could see.
Let’s say Phantom of the Opera. I’ve never seen it myself; heard it’s nifty though.
So I go to YouTube and put in “Phantom of the Opera Full Show” or something like that. And what do you know, there it is. It’s not the Broadway cast, but still, it’s the full show. And it’s really well shot.
I’m a huge fan of a composer called William Finn. He did The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. And before that he did a musical about having a brain tumor called A New Brain. Gorgeous music, funny characters, but not often produced.
Hello, YouTube has the 2015 City Center revival with Jonathan Groff and Ana Gasteyer. It’s not nearly as well shot as Phantom, but you know what, it turns out I don’t care. I just want to see the show.
Within minutes I had found other links to Finn’s latest work, a theatrical production of Little Miss Sunshine; also parts of the Broadway performance of Groundhog Day which were not well shot but remain pretty darn beautiful. Here’s the opening; and the Australian cabaret-style musical Keating, about early 1990s Prime Minister Paul Keating, who I am a big fan of.
So yeah. Unexpected diamonds in this rather large rough.
How about you? What new things are you doing?
And now a commercial message:
Accordions. They sound good together.
The other big thing from this week, other than the earthquake….
Oh wait, did I mention that we had an earthquake at midnight on Tuesday? Yes. That happened. Because 2020 hates us all.
It was not bad, came and went very fast.
What did not was the alert system at Loyola Marymount, which started blasting from every phone in our building and every building that this was a serious event. I was like,
YA THINK.
I did discover, however, that nothing can bring down the Angeleno earthquake Twitter game.
First, my own Not From Here reaction:
Then, the real Californians:
++
So otherwise, you know what’s been unexpectedly memorable about this week has been a couple really powerful experiences of welcome and community.
For the last few months I’ve been watching this adorable animated show Steven Universe (first four seasons on Hulu, rest elsewhere) which is basically about a kid whose super power is that he accepts everyone for who they are. It’s actually about a lot more than that--interstellar wars, having great parental figures around you, musical numbers, beach towns, the importance of donuts -- but for me that’s the heart of it.
This week I finished the main run of the show, and man, it just knocked me down with its empathy. It reminds me of Star Wars in a way; just like Luke, Steven’s kindness reveals just how much more is possible if we keep trying to do and assume the best. To the very last scene, the show kept surprising me and also filling me with envy; the episodes are only ten minutes long and yet every single one still tells a full, funny sweet story.
Then tonight, I spent a few hours watching Broadway stars wish Stephen Sondheim a happy 90th birthday. And this really funny thing happened; the first hour was a complete disaster. The show started over 30 minutes late, and then when it did the sound was so totally screwed up they had to stop and start again. And then again!
These are not good things to have happen, right? And yet I don’t know, somehow that time only made me feel more aware of the community of love and shared experience that all of us who have been touched by Sondheim’s work are a part of.
It’s something I’ve written about here before, and thought about quite a bit in the last few years: you have to find your tribe.
Zoom versions of yourself do not count.
For me newsletters are one means to that; every time I read Warren Ellis’ Orbital Operations I don’t know, I just feel connected to others. And I feel like a good newsletter is like stumbling upon a little man-made clearing out in the woods somewhere, maybe with one of those little curved amphitheaters where the seating is made out of trees and the Boy Scouts come each fall to learn about deciduous trees. They might not be there when you’re visiting, but it doesn’t matter. You know you’re all a part of something big and wonderful.
Sitting there online tonight, waiting for the show with a zillion strangers was another version of that. An “oh yeah, that’s right, I’m part of them” moment. In fact my love for Sondheim only fully makes sense here, with this crazy hilarious family I didn’t know I had.
If you’re intrigued at all, or just looking for a pick me up this week, here’s the show:
I’ll tell you what, if you go to 1:58:00 there is an incredibly special treat waiting.
And speaking of music, a little song for you from another old friend:
++ LINKS ++
I know I’ve been falling down when it comes to links. Honestly, I’m just not reading as much right now.
But here’s three great things I came across this week:
Cartoon Edith Zimmerman talk-draws about hobbies.
One more song, this one from the second season of Shrill, which I have had on repeat for weeks.
And a poem that kind of says it all.
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love—
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.Lynn Ungar
You’re still here. It’s not easy, I know, but day by day you are getting through it. Whether it’s through a walk, some quiet time or a great glass of red, make sure you take the time to appreciate that.
I leave you with one more song to help when that’s harder to do.
See you next week.