peaceful, easy feelin'

So, I’m having some problems with Blogger lately. I’m confident that it’s Blogger and not my computer, because I’ve tried 10 different computers in this computer lab and none of them will let me a. post pictures or b. publish. I’ll keep trying to crack it. But seriously, Blogger, what gives? Why are you stranding me here on the other side of the world? Dumb dog, why are you following me? I aint got a crumb, dog, why can’t you just let me be? (slight Annie riff)

I just wanted to tell you about my night tonight. For their finals, my students had to do some performances. And powerful performances they truly were. I was very pleased with what I saw:

1. One Romeo and Juliet scene done with pirates and Mercutio killed by a fatal conk on the forehead. ‘A bump!’ he shouted, ‘A plague on both your houses!' Coincidentally, the actress playing Mercutio, Stacy, had cracked her head on a pole the previous evening, so her goose egg was purple and absolutely authentic.


2. Another Romeo and Juliet scene done ghetto style with switched genders. Stuart played the Nurse. The kind of Nurse, apparently, who wears gold lame tube tops and hooker skirts with fuchsia lipstick. Stuart enjoyed his role a tad too much. (To each his own!) I liked all the ‘hood dialogue, as it added to the layers of Elizabethan language and reminded us all that Romeo should have checked himself before he wrecked himself, yo.



3. A delightful Pyramus and Thisbe scene where Thisbe was actually played by a girl, and Mark Pugh did some Irish dancing with a pole right before Pyramus’ suicide. Pretty funny stuff. Amy was a pleasant wall, but her moon performance was truly memorable. She stood very still, holding an opaque white exercise ball.



4. An original ten minute musical! Several ladies dressed in black mourned a dubious death, and then plotted to kill each other to win an inheritance. The music was all original, sung by the talented songstress Jen Driggs. I liked the part when they sang ‘There’s going to be a murder...tonight!....tonight?....tonight?.....tonight! I also liked when the chandelier fell and killed the police inspectors. Real stage magic!



5. The world premiere of the Hyde Park Players’ hilarious comedy Where’s George? The practicum class has been rehearsing this little piece for weeks and it all came together tonight for one magical performance. And by magical, I mean that it was magically shorter than usual. Because they accidentally skipped 8 pages of dialogue. The forgiving audience plead with them for deleted scenes after the curtain call, which they got. So, in the end, everyone found out Where George actually went.



After a night of homespun theatre, we headed across the street to Hyde Park for Dominos pizza and Fallon’s amazing salad for thirty. As the sun went down, we played kick-the-can and steal-the-flag in the long grass, hiding behind giant oaks and maples like a bunch of American sprites. Finally, in true Kumbaya style, we gathered in a circle with a guitar and sang Peaceful Easy Feelin,’ taking turns to make up hilarious alternative lyrics which slyly documented our six weeks together in one amazing city.

i stop to see a weeping willow

Stratford-upon-Avon is easily the most overrated tourist trap in England. Of course, you have to go there if you visit England, in the same sense that you have to go to Disneyland if you are in Anaheim, or how you have to drink rusty rain water if you are in a Japanese War camp. It's just what you do. For true bardolaters like myself, Stratford is a necessary evil. We walk around with our noses up, snooting at all the gawky Americans and the snap-happy Japanese like we own the place. Any town that puts their McDonalds employees in Elizabethan uniforms has reached the zenith of garish tourism. But, OK.

That being said, I've realized that Stratford is not to be merely visited, but to be thoroughly felt. And you don't necessarily feel it on the hop-on Shakespeare bus. I've visited Stratford three times, and each time I felt the place in curious ways:


1. 1993. I stole a pear off one of the trees in Anne Hathaway's garden and ate it covertly in the shade of a mulberry.



2. 2002. Sitting with Ros, Christian, Kelley, Hannah, and Sherri in Hall's Croft cafe. Blustery wet February day outside. The walls were salmon red. Roz told us some funny stories.


3. 2006. After an underwhelming performance of Romeo and Juliet (instead of sword fights, Irish Dancing!)I walked along the banks of the river Avon until about 1:30 am. Don't worry, I wasn't alone. I had my ipod. The moon was out, lighting up the weeping willows, and the pathway was clear and manageable. Holy Trinity church chimed midnight and then one, and I couldn't go back to bed on such a warm and luminous night.

Oddly enough, the words that kept ringing in my head weren't Shakespeare at all, but Robert Frost:

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Happy to have felt Stratford finally, I was happily resigned to being a tourist again. The next day, Mark, Lexi and I rented a little skiff (name: Viola) and paddled along the river. We made some flatulent noises at some bossy British ladies, and I gave Mark and Lexi a Much Ado quiz, which they aced. Finally, hearing the splash of a kayakker in distress, we slid down the river to pull her out of the water and realized it was Neve Campbell, from TV's Party of Five. She looked like a drowned rat, but who am I to judge? My head was pink from all that Warwickshire sunshine.

isn't it romantic?

Coming over the hill to see Widecombe-in-the-Moor is something I've done several times. When we lived in Devonshire I used to love driving through Dartmoor, over the Haytor pass, and dropping into Widecombe, a little town nestled into a valley so picturesque that you think it's fake.

This trip was special, however, because I got to come over the hill on the opposite side. We were staying just outside of town, and to get into town - for a pub dinner, of course - we had to walk a good mile and a half. It was a beautiful June evening, and I was holding Lisa's hand. The group remained together most of the walk, though nobody, even me - the patron saint of camera sneering - could resist snapping picture after picture of England's best kept secret. Every turn in the little Widecombe lane provided greenery, thatched roofs, and some kind of interesting pastoral bird call. It was one of the most beautiful evenings of my lifetime.


The following day, in the true spirit of romance, Lisa and I spent our 11th anniversary at a sheep-shearing.

lucky strike!

When Anne Boleyn was beheaded, the executioner's strike was so clean and so quick that her eyes continued to blink and her mouth continued to move in prayer, even after her head had been severed completely.

This special story brought to you by the Tower of London.

state of the art

Here are some of my favorite pieces from the Tate Modern:




Whaam! by Roy Liechtenstein




Roaring Fourties, by Tacita Dean




Painting, by Joan Miro




Portrait of a Young Woman, by Meredith Frampton




Red on Maroon, by Mark Rothko




Composition B with Red, by Piet Mondrian




A Memory, by Laszlo Moholy-Nagy




Judi Dench, who, though not a piece of Tate Modern art, was brilliant in this evening's production of Hayfever.

Katherine, Anne, Jane, Anne, Catherine, Catherine

I went to Hampton Court today to see the palace of Henry VIII's six wives. I took my one wife along. It's nice just having one wife. It's hard to hold the hands of six wives when you are walking through the Hampton gardens.

As soon as we got to Hampton, the students spread out like red ants. It's hard not to at Hampton, where the grass stretches on and on, and every corner reveals another fountain or the world's longest grape vine. Lexi found a secret garden. Missy stole a rose. I tried to steal a Jazzy to ride around on, but the lady caught me. And when I told her that I had recently had back surgery, she wasn't having it! She asked for a 'credit card or something' that proves that I had just had surgery. Sorry, but who gives out special credit cards after surgery? I think she was making that up. She was a grouch. She didn't appreciate me trying to steal that Jazzy.

We went through Henry's palace, listening to the audio tour. Lisa and I made sure that we punched in the secret code at exactly the same time, just to be sure that we heard the same jokes in our headphones at exactly the same moment. We would look at each other and laugh, as if to say 'I really liked that joke' or 'What an interesting bit of information!' or, in the haunted hallway, 'Spooky.'

I have a lot of respect for Henry VIII because I played him in A Man for All Seasons at BYU. Everyone thinks of Henry VIII as this fat guy who beheads wives and gnaws on turkey legs. But did you know that in his day he was quite handsome and athletic? How do you think I got cast? His best feature was his legs. He wore a lot of tights. You should have seen the tights I had to wear in that show.

This doesn't have anything to do with Henry VIII, but I took Lisa to Mary Poppins tonight. One of the songs in it is called 'Practically Perfect in Every Way.' It's not hard, I think, to make the obvious connection to my date.

putting it together

Lisa and I painted the town something fierce today, aided and abetted by Adam and Loraine. You'll remember Adam and Loraine; they are British. But they are also American. It depends on who they are with and where they are at the moment. They are mostly British, but they talk really loud. So they are kind of American. We walked around London today, talking really loud.

We started at the Patisserie on Gloucester Road. The same one where I saw Raquel Cassidy my second day here. It's my neighborhood Patisserie. In walks Raquel Cassidy again! No big deal this time. I'm used to seeing celebrities walking around Kensington now (just wait to hear who I saw tonight!)We ate some breakfast and overstayed our welcome, which didn't bother us at all, because we were busy gossiping about YOU.

We took the double decker from there down to Leicester, and walked to Covent Garden. This being Bank Holiday (just what the English need; one more day to loaf around and drink) Covent Garden was packed. Lisa wore some ill-advised shoes. They were silver and new, but alas, they gave her blisters. I guess that's what happens when you "Pay less." So we sat on the steps of Covent Garden as she applied some plasters on her gaping ankle wound (plasters are band-aids.) Then we watched all kinds of street performers do special tricks.

I have a new obsession! Those people who spray themselves gold or silver and act like statues. I like to watch them, but mostly I like to pretend like I can do that. I did it for a few minutes in Covent Garden, and Lisa and Adam put money in my cap. When I get home I'll show you how good I am at the statue performance. Not to brag, but I am really good at it. I'm not hiding my candles under a bushel.

The weather was inexplicable. Hot, cold, sun, rain, nothing could be predicted.

We ate again at a place called The Stockpot. It's a diner south of Picadilly. We had a three course meal, and of course I went with the Bangers and Mash. We talked a lot at the Stockpot. It was sort of like a Village Inn, without the food poisoning.

Lisa, Loraine and I saw Sunday in the Park with George tonight, which happens to be my favorite Sondheim musical. I loved it. It was beautiful, and the set was thrilling. Much of what they did with it was computer generated, so walls shifted and dogs and monkeys jumped around the stage via projection. It was seamless, and the music, as always, was eclectic and tight. Lisa had never seen it, so it was exciting for me to watch her. We were on the front row. Spitting distance.

At intermission we saw Trey Parker and Matt Stone in the lobby. The creators of South Park! I told you I saw some big celebs tonight!

sunday in the park with lisa

Welcome to London, birthday girl.

aint no sunshine

I would really like to tell you all about my day, but some bonehead at the computer next to me is listening to his ipod SO LOUD that I can barely hear the voices in my head. And it's this repetitive rap music. I would swear he has one song on endless repeat. I can hear the lyrics. Hang on, I'll tell you what they are:

Trying to get a talking to!
Yeah, I'm trying to get a talking to!

(drum solo. And not kidding, he's drumming along with a pen.)

Who needs to listen to their ipod so loud? What kind of monkey turns up their ipod loud enough so everyone can hear it, and then drums along with a pen? Oh, I am getting too old for student computer labs. It's nothing but instant messaging, pub stories, and rap music down here.

More lyrics:

Round and round, now write this down
Oh, baby go round and round and write this down!

I'll tell you what. I AM writing this down, and it's no great shakes. Certainly it's nothing worth losing your hearing over. I'm just glad the drum solo is over. For now, anyway.

Anyway, in brief. It's Saturday. You know what that means: PORTOBELLO ROAD! We trekked our way across the park to Notting Hill Gate and walked up and down the open markets. I've never seen so many open air markets in my life, nor have I seen so many slutty t-shirts and incense sticks. I liked all the fresh fruit and vegetables, and the flower stands were mighty impressive. We had crepes with hazelnut and chocolate on them. This lady shouted something at me, but I didn't understand her. She was really intense in this thing she was shouting at me. I felt lost and afraid. I asked her to repeat herself. Turns out, she was hawking raspberries. I think she screams at people all day to buy her raspberries.I was wearing some old cargo pants that I had cut into long shorts, and a man in the middle of the market told me that that was a "really good idea." I walked down the streets in slow motion and Mark and Lexi sang "Aint No Sunshine," while I pretended to be Hugh Grant. No sign of Julia Roberts, the blue door, or the Travel Book Shop, and the seasons didn't change. But I did buy a Django Reinhardt CD and a scarf for the world's most beautiful woman, who I will be seeing five hours from now.




Tonight after a fantastic viewing of The Crucible, (a comedy....tonight!) we walked almost the entire way home. It was a beautiful night. Warm, and full of big city energy. We walked through Leicester, down to Trafalgar, across to Buckingham, through St. James' park, and caught the tube for two more stops. We sat on the steps of Metrogate and chatted until late. There is something alive and refreshing about London on a Saturday night. There may be something appealing about getting madly drunk and dancing and hooting on a London fun bus, but I think there is also something pretty appealing about chatting with good friends on a warm summer night at the edge of the Trafalgar fountains.

hallelujah!

Despite being the Mormoniest bunch of yahoos in town, a big group of us went to St. Martin-in-the-Field church tonight and sang in the Ascension service. It was pretty glorious. We sang with the BBC singers, who did all the descant. And then the BBC orchestra played Mozart's Missa Solemnis, and the choir sang to that as well. There was this one lady who sang so loud that I saw a chandelier quiver. There was one part where we were supposed to greet the person next to us, and say "Peace be with you." You could hug them, or shake their hands. It was easy for me, because I was next to Mark on my right side, so I gave him a big manly hug. But on the other side of me was this old man, who also wanted a hug. But I put out my hand like I was going to shake his, and then we had that whole awkward "hug or handshake" dilemma. And then we sang more songs with the choir.

When I say that we sang with the choir, I mean us and the rest of the congregation. But we sang the loudest, because, well, we're Americans.

You can hear us here

Enjoy!

o earth, I will befriend thee more with rain

Getting to see Titus Andronicus on stage is a little like getting to see a solar eclipse. Everyone talks about it, but it never seems to really happen. And you have to be in the right place at the right time. Trust me when I tell you: last night we were in the right place at the right time.

Widely considered to be Shakespeare's worst play, Titus Andronicus is easily his goriest. There are 18 deaths in the play, most of which happen onstage. And not only do people die, but Willy contrived to have them die in the most gruesome ways. A woman has her hands chopped off and her tongue cut out, and is eventually smothered. Two errant men are hung upside down and gutted like pigs. Later they are baked into a pie and fed to their evil mother. Another character is buried in the mud up to his neck and left to the elements. Sound cheery? You haven't heard the half of it. Nor will you, because if I were to ramble on and on about all the atrocities this play eschews you probably wouldn't believe me when I told you that this particular production turned the play into a black comedy.

Is there something comforting about laughing at death? A guy onstage got garrotted by a stick while holding two pigeons. We doubled over in laughter. In retrospect, I feel so Elizabethan. Nobody loved blood, guts, and bombast like the 16th century folk. Nobody could clap for vengeance, laugh at knavery, and anticipate murder like the Elizabethans, unless it's Christopher Clark's London Shakespeare class.

What's more, we paid to stand through the play. No seats. Standing for 3 1/2 hours. And none of us minded a bit. And it rained the entire time - poured on us and we were sopping and sated. I would do it again in a second. The actors clearly loved us as an audience; we cheered and booed and chanted along with them, and they tailored their performance to us. At the curtain call, they jumped into the crowd, grabbed several of us by the hand, and danced a jig with us in the audience. Eventually they tried to pull us on stage. It was communal theatre. Interactive and alive. Shakespeare the way it should be done.

We walked home afterwards, shivering and spent. We could have been miserable, but we were too excited to bother with that. A night at the theatre is special, but a night like last night is legendary.

a foggy day in london town

There is a great movie out there called Before Sunset with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. If you've heard of it, you get 5 points. If you've seen it, you get ten, plus a back rub. It is a fantastic movie. Technically, it's a sequel to an earlier film called Before Sunrise, which was filmed in 1995. It's also great. But the point of me bringing the film up is that it's basically just Ethan and Julie walking around Paris for two hours talking. There is no plot. But the scenery is so beautiful and the conversation is so engaging that you don't really seem to mind. In both films they walk around a European city and fall in love, and you sort of fall in love with them along the way.

Strolling around London today with my boss Grant Skabelund and his wife, Sherry, wasn't necessarily romantic. There were no careless whispers or lengthy longing looks (that I'm aware of) but I did take them on a day-stroll around London. And I thought it was great. My feet were killing me by the end, but I felt like I had given them a real feel for one of the most incredible cities on the planet. So, because you missed out, and because I love you a lot, I'm going to show you the path we took:

We started here in our neighborhood, Kensington:



Next, we took the tube to Leicester Square:



Then we walked to the British Museum:



We walked to Covent Garden, so I could have another pork and apple pasty:



We saw a street performer riding a unicycle in Covent Garden Markets:


then we made our way to St. Paul's Cathedral:


We went to the top. I'm getting good at climbing stairs:


We crossed the millennium Bridge and walked down the Thames:


We walked across the bridge to Big Ben:


We caught the tube home.