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Bits of Fruit
May. 17th, 2014 01:31 amWork started with a note from the guy whose project I'm working saying that all the 150 little movie files I created had to be redone because he made a mistake in the script. So that took most of the morning. We were supposed to have 3 meetings in a row starting at 1, but since 1 is my lunch hour I'd declined that one. When I checked on the 2 pm one, Mr. 1 pm was still rattling on (same meeting room), so I came back 5, 10, 15 and 20 minutes later, boss gestured for me to join them, but then they took a break and just did the 2 pm from 2:30-3. At 3 the meeting was upstairs in a room too small, so I went to my desk and joined it with GoToMeeting and a phone bridge. Awkward, but I was mostly needing the visuals.
The rest of the day was spent on the morning project, to be continued, and my weakly retort.
Home for an hour, then to Pear Avenue Theatre for their annual collection of shorts, Pear Slices, written by members of their playwright's workshop. This time I think there were 8 plays, much more than when they started. One of them was written by a long-time friend, and it dealt in an oblique way with her own life, which included a child with serious birth defects and a husband bailing on her because of that. The play only had a hint of that, with the husband making it clear he would hang in there no matter how the child turned out. IRL I thought she was wrong to raise the child on her own, would have been wrong even if dad had stuck around, because the child needed serious professional help. But I digress.
All the plays were well written, imaginative, and experimental. One actor played the same annoying high-pitched-voice character in three different plays, but the other cast members did an excellent job of playing the character which the script called for. One young man did remarkable transitions from Billy The Kid to an introvert who comes to the Golden Gate Bridge every morning to watch for jumpers, to a pugilistic Jack Sprat fairy tale character. One actress played a Victorian era Congressperson, a very shy Emily Dickenson, and two other very different characters. And so on.
Very enjoyable, and I would write more but the programs were served up as menus in plastic holders not meant to be taken home, and the web page has very little more than cast photo and ticket prices/schedule.
There were two Sci-fi themed ones - about a tennis racket with unusual properties purloined by a SETI astronomer, and one about a cardboard box time machine.
I wanted to meet the cast but after the show they shooed us all out quickly because cast photos were being taken. The doors had opened 15 minutes late for the same reason.
Home, got a couple of chores done. Added Little Shop of Horrors to my web and print theater resumes. Wrote to the daughter of one of YOTB's trombone players who had been working as a teacher in southern Thailand in 2009-10, but we lost touch partly because that's when my folks were dying, and my employment was a series of short contracts, and partly because there was a lot of Muslim extremist insurgency in her part of the world and she was looking to leave. Hard to believe that was 4 years ago.
Fuzzy called yesterday, he wasn't going to be starting my remodel job today. He had no idea when. It sounded like another week. If I don't hear from him by next thursday I'll tell him I'll have to look elsewhere.
Plans for tomorrow:
Nada.
The rest of the day was spent on the morning project, to be continued, and my weakly retort.
Home for an hour, then to Pear Avenue Theatre for their annual collection of shorts, Pear Slices, written by members of their playwright's workshop. This time I think there were 8 plays, much more than when they started. One of them was written by a long-time friend, and it dealt in an oblique way with her own life, which included a child with serious birth defects and a husband bailing on her because of that. The play only had a hint of that, with the husband making it clear he would hang in there no matter how the child turned out. IRL I thought she was wrong to raise the child on her own, would have been wrong even if dad had stuck around, because the child needed serious professional help. But I digress.
All the plays were well written, imaginative, and experimental. One actor played the same annoying high-pitched-voice character in three different plays, but the other cast members did an excellent job of playing the character which the script called for. One young man did remarkable transitions from Billy The Kid to an introvert who comes to the Golden Gate Bridge every morning to watch for jumpers, to a pugilistic Jack Sprat fairy tale character. One actress played a Victorian era Congressperson, a very shy Emily Dickenson, and two other very different characters. And so on.
Very enjoyable, and I would write more but the programs were served up as menus in plastic holders not meant to be taken home, and the web page has very little more than cast photo and ticket prices/schedule.
There were two Sci-fi themed ones - about a tennis racket with unusual properties purloined by a SETI astronomer, and one about a cardboard box time machine.
I wanted to meet the cast but after the show they shooed us all out quickly because cast photos were being taken. The doors had opened 15 minutes late for the same reason.
Home, got a couple of chores done. Added Little Shop of Horrors to my web and print theater resumes. Wrote to the daughter of one of YOTB's trombone players who had been working as a teacher in southern Thailand in 2009-10, but we lost touch partly because that's when my folks were dying, and my employment was a series of short contracts, and partly because there was a lot of Muslim extremist insurgency in her part of the world and she was looking to leave. Hard to believe that was 4 years ago.
Fuzzy called yesterday, he wasn't going to be starting my remodel job today. He had no idea when. It sounded like another week. If I don't hear from him by next thursday I'll tell him I'll have to look elsewhere.
Plans for tomorrow:
Nada.
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