War Is A Drug

And here is its Junkie. Jeremy Renner's delivery of strength and weakness, often without words, is spellbinding in The Hurt Locker. A great movie with an unusual mastery of constant low-level suspense, it gets my Oscar vote. All of this magic is driven by this regular guy who masterfully plays a character who is both superhero and child.

This movie wears so many hats-you will feel every emotion possible.

Oh yes, if Russell Crowe and Ewan McGregor had a child...it would be this youngun.

Shakespeare's Thinking Cap

A Shakespeare collage I did a few years ago showing him with his thinking cap on.


Jayce T. Tromsness definitely had his thinking cap on to direct the excellent version of the Scottish Play seen at the Warehouse Theatre in Greenville last night. It was the night of the falling canes as three times during the performance canes fell to the floor in the audience making a large kaboom, frightening theatre goers and actors alike. Three times.. it was the three witches, each having a go. The play's setting was war ravaged Bosnia in the 90's. "It has been said that Shakespeare is all about food and sex....and it's true... appetite and desire." Bravo.

Unprepared...Again

Ms. Judith Gordon Low, middle, the founder of Girl Scouts. Her eagle-eye is not helping my feelings of inadequacy. Looks a little like Hal Holbrook in drag, I'm afraid. The girl she's holding hands with to her left is a Perfect Scout. Girl to her right is unprepared.



OK, I have to say right out front I was never a big fan of Girl Scouts. Brownies were fine...lots of six and seven year olds frolicking together with no purpose, doing the things Brownies generally do in cute chocolate milk-brown outfits. But then, Brownies must end and here comes the real thing-the adult looking itchy moss green, stretch belted, A-line uniform with the empty, flopping huge badge sash placed strategically across your chest. Here we were, about ten or eleven; right at the time you start to think, "hey I'm getting close to the age where I can actually do some bad things" and bam, you are beamed into a pint-sized sorority whose motto is watch out, be careful, danger's lurking, so "Be Prepared." I guess I was not very prepared as a child, so I saw this motto to be especially threatening and unobtainable. After all, this group was founded as protection from the Progressive Movement in the U.S. Well, dang-it, when I was ten it was the sixties and I sort of wanted to be progressive. At meetings, I observed these perfect Scouts with heavy badge laden sashes earned for things that I had always assumed were just a normal part of life...swimming, hiking, cooking, photography, ironing (yes). And these perfect Scouts, I suspected they were really earning these things, following all the rules and having an official good time as impressed professionals signed off on their badges. None of it made much sense to me and I became a little suspicious of what was really going on and what the big picture was. I picked badges that were easily fudged and required no official signature other than your mother's. I tried to sew the badges on my sash, but they ended up looking a little like Frankenweenie (maybe shouldn't have faked the sewing badge). I was confused by this competition, yet still guiltily admired these perfect Scouts, but yes, I was a badge fudger. It seemed we waited forever for those few coveted badges to arrive and I feared they were being manufactured by some special man behind the curtain who just might know the truth. If E-bay had been in existence then, we badge fudgers would have had it made, but instead, we sweated it out as the competition and feelings of inadequacy grew during the bare-sash year. Oh well, I probably never gave it much chance since I was only in Scouts for a year (except for the one week I joined later just to go on a Scout camping weekend with a friend), and I know they probably do a lot of good stuff, but I can't help but approach their endeavors with a little left over suspicion. So, here we are, just at our weakest as far as the old eating good thing goes. Our New Year's resolve is beginning to wear thin, Lent has just started (increase in temptation), Fat Tuesday (stomach still stretched) has just passed, we are in the throes of cold-hibernating-lets-eat-weather, we have been plastered in front of the TV watching the Olympics and American Idol, and we are HUNGRY, by God. And this happens. You can't tell me their timing isn't a little calculated. And as always, I am never prepared for their power over me.

(The perfect Scout who came up with the ingenious idea of cookie sales as a fundraiser was named Candy Cane...she sounds prepared, doesn't she.)

My favorite, Lemonaides, in the refrigerator. One box lasted forty-eight hours.

Olympics

Gold Metal Winners-Rattapulting

The Real Eyes of William, I Hope.

Soest's portrait of Shakespeare


I am looking forward to going to the Warehouse Theatre this week for a viewing of the "Scottish Play", so I have Mr. Shakespeare on my mind. It appears to me that every portrait of Shakespeare is different; he doesn't really look like the same man in any of them. I only recently discovered this portrait of him by the Dutch painter, Gerard Soest. What I love about this painting is the Dutch style realism of the eyes and mouth. So many of Shakespeare's portraits have the exaggerated large rounded eyes and prim mouths which were popular in 17th century English paintings-I guess our equivalent would be botoxed foreheads and veneered teeth. He looks mature here, but hasn't reached the days where he is a little portly and completely bald. He looks real and he looks like a man who knows something he's not telling, even though he is dying to tell. He looks like a man who is a little tired from writing late-night sonnets to the Fair Gentleman and the Dark Lady and I like it very much.
And then, with great disappointment, I learn that this portrait of Shakespeare was probably painted 30 years after his death. It is even rumored be a portrait of another man who resembled Shakespeare, or more likely, to be the artist's copy of the recently discovered Chandos portrait. Soest was never a popular painter in the fashionable circles of his time...maybe because he preferred to present his subjects as they really were. Maybe Shakespeare allowed the very young, up and coming Soest to do a portrait and then dismissed it due to its unfashionable realism. Later, in middle age, the Soest decides it's time to show his stuff after the Bard is no longer around to express his displeasure, so after a few touch ups, presents his most famous client. Not that likely, but I still like it and hope that maybe the more realistic Dutch painter saw the real eyes and wanted to leave a more accurate representation of the man.

Buddhist Oyster Roast

A group of partying Buddhist friends near Asheville NC have the greatest celebration every year around this time called the "Dark Night Festival". It is based loosely on several Eastern traditions of Lantern lightings with varying myths and traditions, many associated with the end of the Chinese New Year's celebrations. This party also usually corresponds with the end of Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent. The lanterns in old tradition were lit and sent floating into the winter night to let families and friends know that even though everyone was held up inside by winter cold and snow, they were OK. You wrote a message to your family and friends on the lanterns so they could retrieve them and read your message once they burned out and fell to earth. In some traditions, the message on the lanterns are for deceased friends or family members, sent forth to the heavens. The lanterns are also a way to pay respect to the higher beings that were responsible for the return of the light, giving hope of a coming Spring renewal. At this party your invitation includes a folded paper "lantern". You write or draw whatever you wish on your lantern, bringing it with you to the party where you light a candle from the Unity candle and then your personalized lantern is set afloat on a waxed cardboard "boat" on a nearby pond. The tradition changed from air to the pond to avoid the hazards of forest fires. Lots of oysters are eaten and all is well on a cold, would have been dark, winter's night.

Snow Surfing

View early Sat. from the back deck at Sullivan's Island...it's hard to believe that the ocean is one block from the stop sign. It is so wierd-making it that much better.




Woke up last Saturday morning to a first for me and probably a lot of other folks... snow at the beach. Sullivan's Island got its first significant snow fall in almost 20 years. I was in a local bar on Friday night when it began and the place emptied as patrons went screaming out the door to frolic. A case of the snow crazies that seemed to linger throughout the week even though the snow was long gone...made for extra fun.

Seeing snow on the beach reminded me of the time I saw a cat on the beach. Just gives you that "what's that doing here" feeling.