There once was a powerful orchestra that would blare on through the night. Every night. But now all I hear is a solitary clarinet in the distance. There's an occasional blast of a tuba. I respond with a few sultry tones on my sax.
If a sax plays in the forrest and there's nobody around to hear it... does the sax really give a shit? The answer: Not aymore it doesn't.
I watcheed BrotherHood of the Wolf yet again tonight. My good friend Ryan admitted he had not seen it yet, so naturally we threw it on without any further discussion about it. He loved it, of course.
Everything I need to know, I learned from movies
If BrotherHood taught me one thing, it was simply this: The secret to making a great film is that you have to have a Vatican Spy-Gipsy-Hooker-Ninja. And it doesn't hurt to have the astoundingly beautiful Monica Belucci play her either.
Shakespearean Nightmare opened tonight. It was well recieved, but I walked off stage crying anyway. The audience (somehow) had little to no idea, but the show was a complete train wreck to those of us involved. You see the playwright happened to be the director, and a supporting cast member, so when we REPEATEDLY skipped lines and had what we affectionately refer to as "Mack Truck" pauses, as we tried to remember what to say next, he was right there along for the ride. For those of you who don't know what a Mack Truck pause is, well think of the amount of space needed t drive one through. Got it? In our own defence though, this piece was thrown togethre with literally a week of rehearsals, and I suppose it says something in our favor that for all the lack of work done, we fooled the audience into believing they saw a good show.
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