On today’s commute, my “Alphabet Stew” playlist served up some Michael Bublé(1), including the It’s Time album, which was what first brought him onto my radar.
As the tracks spooled out, one song played that I had simultaneously completely forgotten about while also having it indelibly etched in my memory.
How are both of those things possible? Come : join me below the jump and let me explain.
One of the lucky “extra credit” details of my NYC trip was that I finally had the opportunity to see Kinky Boots on Broadway. This was extra lucky because the Broadway run closed on Sunday, just 3 days after my opportunity to see and enjoy the show.
SIDEBAR: I talked to one of the ushers before the show to find out what show was next coming into this particular theater. Turns out it’s the new Moulin Rouge musical, which I was lucky enough to see during last summer’s Boston try-out. I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to see the final version of that show, but I’m definitely intrigued to have the chance—someday—to compare the Broadway and Boston versions. /SIDEBAR.(1)
But, back to Kinky Boots.
I have all kinds of contradictory feelings about the show.
Strike that: I have a series of contradictory feelings that were prompted by me watching the show. So tonight’s post will basically be focused on the show itself, and I will hope to organize and express my internal conflicts in a different writing exercise on some future date.
Random point the first: I really think I’ve used this post title before, but I don’t have enough gas in the tank to go back and confirm. So apologies if this repetition causes any confusion down the line.
Random point the second: The course was challenging and rewarding in all the best ways, but I need more processing time before knowing what insights I want to share here.
So I’m onto a much lighter topic tonight: the most recent film I watched, on the train ride down to NYC from Boston.
And that exceptionally high brow piece of cinema? Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again.
Today is the first Tuesday night since my yoga experiment started that I wasn’t at my “regular” Tuesday night beginner class.
I’m good with that. Today marked the final work deadline in a series of 6 such deadlines scattered across 10 days—and 4 of those six in the last 48 hours. Me’s tired, and all I wanted to do tonight was have a single cocktail(1), start packing my suitcase, and get all-the-way caught up on Game of Thrones in advance of the upcoming Season 8 premiere.
It’s a plan I stand behind.
Now, I’ll talk about my suitcase tomorrow(2). Tonight, a few frivolous thoughts now that I’ve watched all the way through to the end of Season 7.
(Spoilers ahead!)
QUICK HIT: Still deep in deadline-land.
I’ve posted now and again about the general clutteredness of my life: too many interests, too much indulging of those diverse interests with too much shopping.(1) Mix in some mild hoarding tendencies with not nearly enough free time to dig in for a full “Kondo-ing,” and you can probably get the picture from there.
Obviously, I ain’t been doing any decluttering whilst traversing deadline-land. In all honesty, it’s gonna be a mother-forking miracle if I get laundry done and my suitcase packed before I leave town next week.
But I have been getting an inordinate(2) amount of pleasure from one small victory in this area.
I’ve been seeing lots of friends posting about World Theatre Day today, which makes it a little extra fitting that I “played hooky” from work stuff this evening to watch some friends perform in Mamma Mia.(1) It’s a show I was almost in—-for one hot second—-so I very much wanted to make sure I came out to support everybody.
I’ll admit I was a little worried that I’d have some wistful sad feelings about it all. Sorry for what I’d missed out on, desiring to be up on stage again. After the bows and the drive home, I’m glad to say that wasn’t an issue for me.
QUICK HIT: Yoga class/spring equinox celebration tonight, so that’s my main “one thing” for today. But I did spot one of those little news items that’s worth a wee small commentary….
Last summer, when the hubs and I went to see Hamilton for our anniversary(1), we splurged on one of the cheapest rooms in a charming little place called the Library Hotel. It’s the kind of place that warms the cockles of my literary heart.
Now Boston is upping its own bookish tourism game with the soft launch of the Boston Public Library‘s Map Room Tea Lounge.
So, I’ve been playing hooky from JALC for the weekend.
In large part because I’ve been binge-watching Game of Thrones before the final season premieres a few short weeks from now. This weekend got me to the end of season 6, so I should be able to knock out season 7 between now and April 14. But between all that screen time Friday night and yesterday afternoon, I wasn’t in any sort of mood to be typing on my computer last night.
Instead, I curled up in bed and read a chunk of Wolf Hall. Yes, even in a mode where I’m supposedly lightening up on my reading challenge goals, watch me tackle yet another tome of a book.
I’ve decided I want to hold off on any sort of “review” of GoT till after I’m all the way caught up, and I always wait till a book is finished before making a post here.
Given that I’m very much midstream on all the things, what is there to say here? Join me behind the jump as I figure that out…
Why yes, Virginia, I did enjoy Captain Marvel yesterday.
Now, there’s no need for me to do a full-on review: there’s enough examples of that out in the wilds of the Internet. In case you need them, here’s some recommended links:
Instead, I’m going to focus on one small moment, recounted in as spoiler-free a fashion as I can manage.
The hubs and I bought our tickets today to go see Captain Marvel this coming weekend. That got me thinking: I never got around to posting my thoughts and responses to my (incredibly belated) viewing of Avengers: Infinity War.
Certainly, there’s no objective need for me to add to the discourse here. The money has been made, the ink has been spilled, the spoilers have been spoiled. Let’s face it: once you see Thanos and his gauntlet as an Ash Wednesday meme on Facebook, you get the sense that there really isn’t anything new that can be said about this particular piece of cultural juggernaut.
Said by you, though, George. (10 years later and I still wrestle with this crap. Sigh.)
So this won’t be any attempt at a comprehensive “film review.” Instead there’s just one thematic thread that I want to riff on.
(Obviously, if you are one of the maybe two people left on the internet who haven’t seen or read about the film and its shock ending, know that there be spoilers below the jump.)
Self-Love: It's Just Another Lifestyle Change 