I received a strange little parcel from the UK today. I assumed that it was the cd that I'd asked Ave to send me, but after much wrestling with tape, I discovered that it was the head cleaner that I'd purchased on eBay. Now my minidisc player can have a clean head! I've owned it for about nine months, but never cleaned it, so I suppose it's about time. I am very pleased with this development.
Several people have remarked upon how confusing the european style dating in my posts is, so I've decided to change the style. I can only be so pretentious in one blog, I guess.
I was going through the bin that I keep in the backseat of my car, when I came across an old phone bill, dating from the period that I worked in New York. I made many, many phone calls in one month, and I do not recognize many of the numbers. I don't even recognize some of the numbers that I called repeatedly. It's hard to get nostalgic over a phone bill, but after a few minutes' scrutiny, I recalled situations and conversations. I don't call many of those phone numbers any more.
I've finally gotten around to gathering supplies for my current job (it's important to be well-equipped as a stage manager). I picked up a couple of green steno pads at Target, the kind with all sorts of "tricky" spelling words on the covers. I used to adore those notebooks when I was nine or ten, though I don't recall the word list ever being helpful. I know how to spell banana and maintenance already!
While I was at Target, I also picked up some hair color. Now that the weather is warming up, I really regret thinking that chocolate brown hair was a good idea last autumn. Sure it looked great, but that color's never coming out of my hair! I was really upset about a boy at the time, and feeling that I couldn't affect changes in my life, I decided to effect changes in my hair. So, I chopped off four or five inches of hair and went from having hair the color of clover honey to that of a hershey's bar. It was dramatic. It was a mistake. The color I have now is okay, but it doesn't really match the mental image I have of my hair, left over from the previous summer (and most of my adult life). Oh well. Thank god I didn't dye my hair blue like I'd planned!

My New Yorker arrived today, when I had the time to devote to reading it in one sitting. That was the highlight of my day. My head aches. I would say that I haven't had a headache in years, but I had one yesterday. This is very unusual for me. It's decentralized, as though I can feel my brain inside of my skull. This is moderately annoying.
One of the socks in my tax return pair is complete. I didn't measure my mother's feet first, so I had to guess at the proper size. Luckily, my crazy stagehand reckoning was correct: it fit like a glove when she tried it on. I have a week to finish the second one, now in a nascent stage.
Despite the headache, I managed to get a few things accomplished, like spending the afternoon reading in bed and pursuing job leads online. That is the downside to freelance work: one must continue to seek employment while employed. I made a lot of phone calls today, mostly to answering machines and voicemail. I had absolutely no luck reaching one of my friends. His number at work was busy all day. I can't help but wonder if I didn't have the wrong number. Calling someone at work is the fall back plan; it's hard to dodge calls there. My remaining options are carrier pidgeons and smoke signals.

I listened to the following music today:
Covers Album, Cat Power
Amplified Heart, Everything But The Girl
Gordon, Barenaked Ladies
Central Reservation, Beth Orton
Time Out, Dave Brubeck Quartet

I think it's time to change the discs in my cd changer.

I thought that I would get a few emails after my message blitz over the redesign, but I only received one. It was from my dad. He even answered the question that I'd posed to him about html tags. So for that, Dad, I'll have to make you a copy of Jazz for a Jungle Evening. If you're wondering, I'd originally made the mix as a gift to the cast in my last show, which involved the various misadventures of a game hunter (the Odyssey, 70s style). Unfortunately, I didn't manage to burn them before closing night, so the only person who received one was the production designer. And now, you.

Howdy Doody Time

I watched Bush's self-congratulatory address on tv, out of inertia. Despite the much reported way that he's united the country, I still resent him. The real thank you that he should have given Colin Powell and Gen. Franks is for giving him fodder for his upcoming reelection campaign. I was so disgusted by his comparisons of this latest conflict with the Second World War. I'd like to think that my grandfather and his comrades in arms were fighting for more than low prices at the gas pump. His oblique reference to the destruction of that war, the Blitz, the Dresden bombings, et al, and how this one was better, ignores the major losses to Iraqi cultural instutions inicurred during this conflict. How long will it take Iraqi universities, libraries, and museums to recover from the rampant looting that American forces did nothing to prevent? The whole thing reminded me of the pep rallies that I went to great lengths to avoid in high school.
Now that major combat has ended in Iraq, maybe people will take notice of Bush's war on women. The first signs of a dangerous regime is leadership that believes the way to "reform" society is to control women's bodies. Morality cannot be legislated, but don't tell that to the republicans. Read Planned Parenthood's report here: War on Women
I gave away my cigarette case. It was the stylish accessory of an outdated lifestyle. I bought it in Burlington, VT, while on tour with the evil ballet. It suggested an old-fashioned elegance, made a ceremony of smoking a cigarette. I gave it to Lewis.
I miss smoking. It's stupid, I know. I wonder when I'll stop missing it. I enjoyed it, loved the taste and smell of a hand-rolled Gauloise. But it was time to quit killing myself. Smoking isn't chic or attractive. I may have felt like a French intellectual taking drags off my little Gauloises, but I looked like a girl with an addiction. I hope it takes this time. I've quit before. Quitting is the easiest thing in the world. It's staying quit that's difficult. I quit for two years once. I quit for a couple months last year. This time, I want to quit for good.

Kirstin's Jazz Mix Tape
Well, it's really a cd...but any format will work
Make your own!

Jazz For a Jungle Evening

Track One: I Remember Clifford by Lee Morgan, from the Side Man soundtrack
Track Two: In a Sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington and John Coltrane, from their eponymous album
Possibly my favorite jazz piece, it is perfect for late night contemplation or driving through the city on a rainy evening.
Track Three: Chanson Pour Michelle, from Morelenbaum2/Sakamoto: Casa
Reminiscent of Michel Legrand's 1960s film scores.
Track Four: Who Needs Forever? performed by Astrud Gilberto, from the Verve Unmixed album
sexy and lushly produced, with a retro lounge sensibility
Track Five: I Only Have Eyes For You by Rosemary Clooney
very sexy, nice arrangement
Track Six: O Grande Amor, Morelenbaum2/Sakamoto: Casa
This is not "Blame it on the Bossa Nova"!
Track Seven: Killer Joe by The Jazztet
Recently used in a luxury car commercial that ran on Bravo about a million times
Track Eight: I Feel Pretty performed by Sarah Vaughn
From when jazz singers still released fabulous commercially viable covers of Broadway tunes
Track Nine: Lullaby of Birdland performed by George Shearing
a request from Von K
Track Ten: Daahoud by Clifford Brown, from the Side Man soundtrack
Track Eleven: Land's End, as above
Track Twelve: The 'In' Crowd by Ramsey Lewis
Self-consciously sophisticated
Track Thirteen: Vivo Sonhado, either from Morelenbaum2/Sakamoto: Casa or Getz/Gilberto.
Track Fourteen: Concorvado, as above
Track Fifteen: Fotografia, from Morelenbaum2/Sakamoto: Casa
Pensive and lovely
Track Sixteen: Who Needs Forever? by Thievery Corporation, from the Verve Remixed album
Super sexy, true improvement on the original. I'm generally skeptical of djs reinterpreting jazz standards (anyone remember Ethel Merman's disco record?), but I love this album.

In related news, I found my copies of Time Out and Time Further Out, which I had assumed lost forever, on my couch.

I was felled by bad Swedish meatballs last night. They tasted so good when I ate them smothered in lingonberries, to the consternation of the waitress. Maybe she was on to something.

I've just sent out a glut of emails to my friends, hoping to generate some readership for this site. I haven't been faithfully updating it, as I once did, so I understand how your interest may have waned. Mine did.

According to my rehearsal schedule, I have tonight off, which means that I have the whole day to whatever I please. I haven't the slightest idea what to do. This would have been a perfect day for my New Yorker to arrive, but I think last week was a double issue. Oh well. I used to devote an entire afternoon to reading the New Yorker, from cover to cover, on the day that it arrived. I would devour all of the photography and theatre reviews, wishing that I could see them myself. Then I moved to New York, and only did something that I'd read about in the magazine two or three times. My dreams of the city had been shaped by the people at Conde Nast and Annie Hall. I imagined a sparkling life for myself, involving readings, opening nights, and long walks through the park. Instead, I was pounding the piss stained pavement of eighth avenue every day (especially fragrant in the summer months). Disillusionment is hard. But I still read the New Yorker, imagining a New York that still holds the energy of Dorothy Parker, George Gershwin, and Truman Capote. But I don't read the listings anymore.

It's too bad that Chicago doesn't have a magazine on par with the New Yorker. Oh sure, we have Chicago Magazine, but it's really the midwest equivalent of New York Magazine. Hell, I'd even settle for a Time Out Chicago. It's difficult imagining Chicago as deprived of anything cultural, but there are still a lot of things that I miss from New York. Where is our Times Square? Why don't we have a theatre district or a TKTS booth? Why is our transit system so sparse in comparison to the MTA? Chicago has its many charms, but I do not include circling for half an hour to find a parking place one of them.