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Jun. 26th, 2003 09:40 amI have returned from the horror that is Allentown, which politely, can be referred to as one of the least aspirational places I've ever been. And I suppose there's nothing wrong with that, but I just don't understand it. It was a run down, quiet, boring sort of place, where all the restaurants had linoleum on the floors, terrible lighting, and posters on the walls and everyone was so gosh darn happy to be the fourth largest city in Pennsylvania.
We arrived at 9:45pm, to discover the hotel restaurant and bars were no longer serving food. The bartender suggested we go to another bar down the block, which reminded me terribly of somewhere I once went in Philadelphia, to the point I was relieved when we disocvered they were also no longer serving food and could leave. We were directed across the street to what was apparently the best pizza in town.
I didn't expected it to be good, but I did expect it to be fine. Well the pizza looked so bad I ordered a burger, which was boiled, so was utterly disgusting. I had a bite and that was all.
The next day we had pasta somewhere that tasted EXACTLY like the food issuing from my college caffeteria, and it was only an industrial quesedilla in the end that was remotely edible.
I survived the work portion of the affair unscathed, but then our two hour drive home turned into six hours as we got stuck behind a motorcycle rally entering the Holland tunnel. I feel weak for having already so exhausted the topic that I have no impulse to exlain this non-adventure to you in lurid detail.
Today I've a voice lesson, and must pick up my postcards at Reproductions.
I also started writing something. I know where it's coming from, but not why or where it's going. One of the major female characters is an architect, which is unsurprising on a number of levels (someone in my past was training to be one, I've enough training in the field to write about it convincingly myself, and it just fits for a certain type of mind), but is also uncomfortable for me on a number of levels (see list above), but it seems to be the most unavoidable fact of the piece so far. Not that I've any idea what the piece is about yet, other than this very weird thing I think I want it to be about, but I don't know how to get there yet, or why.
And if it's Thursday, it's time to comb Backstage and send out 8 bazillion headshots and so forth. Sigh. Also, because I can't not, one last trip to Boheme tomorrow (Jaida? Kat? interested?). And yes, I will learn my fucking lines for my fucking show while waiting for the fucking tickets. First rehearsal on the stage of our actual theater Saturday, btw.
We arrived at 9:45pm, to discover the hotel restaurant and bars were no longer serving food. The bartender suggested we go to another bar down the block, which reminded me terribly of somewhere I once went in Philadelphia, to the point I was relieved when we disocvered they were also no longer serving food and could leave. We were directed across the street to what was apparently the best pizza in town.
I didn't expected it to be good, but I did expect it to be fine. Well the pizza looked so bad I ordered a burger, which was boiled, so was utterly disgusting. I had a bite and that was all.
The next day we had pasta somewhere that tasted EXACTLY like the food issuing from my college caffeteria, and it was only an industrial quesedilla in the end that was remotely edible.
I survived the work portion of the affair unscathed, but then our two hour drive home turned into six hours as we got stuck behind a motorcycle rally entering the Holland tunnel. I feel weak for having already so exhausted the topic that I have no impulse to exlain this non-adventure to you in lurid detail.
Today I've a voice lesson, and must pick up my postcards at Reproductions.
I also started writing something. I know where it's coming from, but not why or where it's going. One of the major female characters is an architect, which is unsurprising on a number of levels (someone in my past was training to be one, I've enough training in the field to write about it convincingly myself, and it just fits for a certain type of mind), but is also uncomfortable for me on a number of levels (see list above), but it seems to be the most unavoidable fact of the piece so far. Not that I've any idea what the piece is about yet, other than this very weird thing I think I want it to be about, but I don't know how to get there yet, or why.
And if it's Thursday, it's time to comb Backstage and send out 8 bazillion headshots and so forth. Sigh. Also, because I can't not, one last trip to Boheme tomorrow (Jaida? Kat? interested?). And yes, I will learn my fucking lines for my fucking show while waiting for the fucking tickets. First rehearsal on the stage of our actual theater Saturday, btw.
