Couples Costume

Last week Nicole and I got in a little dust up about Halloween. She's a big fan of dressing up and I am not. I told her I was willing to dress up, knowing it was important to her, then never followed up. Over the past couple weeks she has suggested a number of different couples costumes all of which I lightly dismissed. Last Friday we were talking about Halloween and I, having simmered for a while, burst out "You know, I don't want to do this. Dressing up isn't my thing." She got upset, I got upset.

After talking to Jimmy about compromises, about what they look like, about the difference between passively acquiescing and engaging with enthusiasm, I apologized. When people talk about relationships compromise is a watchword. For a while I thought it was about alternating. You pick the movie, I pick the movie. We go to meet your friends, we go to meet my friends. But what I discovered is that it's about doing something you don't want to do, not only that but doing it without any reticence or foot-dragging or negativity. Doing something you don't want to do with such enthusiasm you actually enjoy it. That something you didn't want to do turns into something you're glad you did.

Nicole made a Wayne's World hat before we went out. I was Wayne, she was Stacey. We both had fun.

Graffiti 141

 

Some bizarre comment on advertising or clueless ploy to get city denizens to drink more water?

"In the United States, the advertising and public relations industry is huge. Back in the more honest days, they called it propaganda. Now the term doesn’t sound nice, so it’s not used anymore, but it’s basically a huge propaganda system...His first great success was to induce women to smoke. In the 1920s, women didn’t smoke. So here’s this big population which was not buying cigarettes, so he paid young models to march down New York City’s Fifth Avenue holding cigarettes. His message to women was, 'You want to be cool like a model? You should smoke a cigarette.' How many millions of corpses did that create? I’d hate to calculate it. But it was considered an enormous success." -Noam Chomsky

"There are two sayings that are familiar in every news room across the country: 1) sex sells; 2) if it bleeds it leads." -Armstrong Williams

'John Wick' A Review

John Wick is a revenge action movie about a retired hitman whose car is stolen and dog is killed. John Wick(Keanu Reeves) is a fearsome hitman for the Russian mob nicknamed "The Boogeyman". When he got the news of his wife's illness he retired. As the movie opens she has just died, her parting gift to him a beagle pup, something for him to love. After the funeral at a gas station Wick's '69 Mustang catches the attention of young buck Russian mobster Iosef who subsequently breaks into Wick's apartment steals the car, kills the dog, and roughs up Wick. Wick comes out of retirement intent on taking Iosef's life. There is a lot of collateral damage.

In the wake of the success of Taken this type of movie has been made and remade a number of times in the last five years. This incarnation doesn't offer anything new in regards to narrative but does provide some originality in the fight choreography and in the performance from Reeves.

Although not quite innovative the gun play and hand-to-hand combat is unique. Intriguing in its specificity and realism. Different enough to rise(slightly) above other action flick fare. Reeves seems to be following in the footsteps of Nicholas Cage, not only in his choice of roles but in his method of performance. Reeves gives Wick 100% commitment, plays him with menace and a bizarre psychotic glee. At one point tied to a chair before he is tortured he shouts "YEAH I'D SAY I'M BACK!"

Sufficiently entertaining, containing absolutely no surprises.

Rent It.

Mental Health Day

I stayed up late reading.
An engrossing SciFi paperback.
Called into work this morning.
Too tired to commute.
Slept till noon.
Luxuriated in a late breakfast.
Watched Tall Tale on VHS.
Drank lots of coffee.
Ventured out to Barnes & Noble.
Bought The Slow Regard Of Silent Things.
Paid half price to see Keanu Reeves seek revenge.
Waited patiently for my loves return.
Flirted, fought, and snuggled. All in fun.
Indulged in a frozen pizza,
splayed out on our IKEA couch.
What freedom in such idleness.

Goodbye Timmy

Another Chicagoan fleeing to the coast.
Timmy, the bad-backed bird-man.
Trumpeting his percentage of Cherokee blood.
I'll miss the parade of cops, bosses, and put-upon husbands you played.
Those times you were inappropriately Asian or mentally impaired.
Your mugging, your thirst for the audiences laughter.
You taught me a lot about crowd control. And response.
About going for broke.
About over-the-top.
About yelling to get myself heard.
Sometimes a scene calls for steamrolling force.
You were always game to bear the brunt of my Nagging Wife.
Or receive the tirades from my Bad Cop.
Always loudly denouncing your guilt or sexual inadequacy.
You fired me countless times.
Played my principal even more.
And had Bitchy Friend down to a science.
But always and forever a tried and true collaborator.
Generous, kind, and challenging.
Goodbye my friend.
May the sun filled slopes and valleys of that dreamscape called LA
Never mar your sickly and translucent skin.

'Whiplash' A Review

Whiplash is a jazz drama about a malleable student and his volatile mentor. Andrew Neyman(Miles Teller) is a drumming student at a prestigious music school in Manhattan. Quiet and unassuming he has no friends, is obsessed with drumming, but seems to be unremarkable in regards to ability. During a solo late night practice session Neyman is interrupted by Terence Fletcher(J.K. Simmons) the school's feared and revered conductor. Fletcher invites Neyman to be part of his Studio Band the school's most competitive ensemble. Fletcher is hard on his students, excessive, aggressive, manipulative, and even physically threatening. But Neyman endures the abuse, desirous of becoming "one of the greats".

Teller as Neyman gives an atypically restrained performance. His boyish charm is not evident, nor is the twinkle of rye humor he often displays. Teller is paired down, simple, driven by one thing only- artistic singularity. At first he is relatively affable but as the film progresses he takes us along his journey of focus and obsession where friendship and love are mere distractions. Simmons as the dictatorial teacher walks a razor sharp line between monster and caricature. He yells, he strikes, he insults, he constantly pushes but always, at the breaking point, he justifies, he softens. There is never a point where Simmons loses us, we may not like Fletcher but Simmons does the impossible job of making him not only understandable but incredibly compelling. Scenes with Teller and Simmons crackle with energy and anxiety, they are a battle, a power struggle. Simmons tempers Teller, driving him towards a transformation he may not be capable of.

The cinematography and editing are dark and percussive mirroring the drumming itself. Short and sharp, long and slow. The feel and flow of the film builds, rises and falls, seethes then peaks only to swell and explode. The film is jazz itself. Dark, passionate, dangerous, unpredictable. At the heart it asks "what is the cost of greatness?" then "is it worth it?"

There are many incredible scenes the description of which would only spoil their subsequent viewing. The culminating final sequence, however, is the best ending to a film in a decade.

Inspiring and disturbing. Whiplash is one of those rare cinematic experiences so effecting you are transported, from the darkened movie house to a world of sweat, blood, and the chatter of the snare.

Don't Miss It.

Vince & Amy

Tonight was Vince and Amy's wedding. A beautiful ceremony with heartfelt vows, music, and a lot of improv friends participating. There was a great balance of humor and sincerity during the ceremony that really conveyed who Vince and Amy are.

The reception was wonderful, so many friends in attendance, dancing compliments of DJ Drennen, local BBQ, cake, donuts, the whole works.

It was a real joy, a genuine celebration of two incredible people. There was a lot of talk about Vince and Amy's loyalty, sense of humor, and kindness which couldn't have rung more true.

I was at the party the night they met. It's been a pleasure to see them come together, grow, and blossom over the past couple years. They are a couple I look to for guidance. On how to support, balance, and communicate. A great match, a blessed union, two starry-eyed goofballs.

Murphy's Law

I'm not one for improv warm ups anymore. Don't feel like I need them to get focused and in the right head space to perform. I do need some time to check in and chit chat with my teammates before a show, to get on the same frequency. The Night Shift had a bad show tonight. If I had to pin point it I'd say the reason was we weren't on the same page, we all came into it with some frenetic disparate energies.

We haven't had a bad show in a long time, a year or more, so I feel like the karmic balance played a role. It was one of the shows that, on paper, was fine, even decent. In actuality we not only got no traction with the audience(some of them left) but took no joy from it ourselves.

The whole thing was off, corrupt, from the beginning. We made valiant attempts but couldn't get the show on track. Our ideas weren't catching, the audience wallowed in their apathy. From the start we were disconnected, then when getting the suggestion the man who gave it was a real tool, some transphobic douche, he spouted off some relatively disturbing information. Information we were then suppose to use to "inspire" us.

We set up some interesting scenes, remained truthful to ourselves and our engineered situations, tried to create some movement and surprise within the piece. Nothing worked. The energy in the room just got darker, more antagonistic, judgmental, cannibalistic. Four drunk middle-aged women left, the guy who had given the suggestion was in the front row with his date and both of them just had these lop-sided drooping grins on their faces. It was disturbing.

No one on the team was at fault. We all supported each other and contributed, made moves and choices. It was a bunch of external things not going our way all at the same time. It was not fun and I was glad I had another show to jet to after to shake of the grime of it. Such badness is rare for us now, making it that much more unsettling. Talking afterwards we couldn't pinpoint what exactly went wrong and that's ok. Bad shows happen, they make the good shows that much sweeter. An message from those mercurial gods of improv.

Graffiti 140

In college I was almost never without my Walkman, mixtapes and headphones blocking everything out. I never felt quite comfortable at my alma mater, never a-part-of, the music and the ritual of it my bit of protection. This was in the burgeoning time of cell phones and iPods. For the most part people weren't plugged in yet.

As those things got more popular and it was more common for people to be distracted with their devices I put down my headphones and my Walkman(actually it broke and they don't make them much anymore). Initially my move was blatantly non-conformist. I didn't get an iPod because everyone else was going wild for them. But as iPods turned into iPhones and all phones into smartphones I've tried(and sometimes failed) to keep my engagement with digital gadgets while in public to a minimum.

Phones are a distraction and can take peoples focus away from the individuals they are with which can be irritating. More importantly though it conditions people not to deal with life's moments of boredom, discomfort, and unease. Gives people a nice warm social blanket in any situation. Prevents them from developing the skill and tolerance required to navigate those more disquieting moments of life.

"The cell phone has become the adult's transitional object, replacing the toddler's teddy bear for comfort and a sense of belonging." -Margaret Heffernan

"We know that people are less open in conversations if the other conversant puts a cell phone on the table. Even if it's turned off. The sign is enough to close the mind and make a prospective client or lover less likely to do what you ask. As people realize this, they'll start putting away phones or turning them off." -Douglas Rushkoff

Resilience

In the heart of fall with winter fast approaching there's still a lot of color around.

The leaves changing, of course, but flowers still in bloom.

A little beauty to sustain us in this time of trick or treat.

'Gone Girl' A Review

Gone Girl is a mystery/thriller adapted from the novel of the same name. On the day of their fifth wedding anniversary in suburban Missouri Nick(Ben Affleck) returns home to find his wife Amy(Rosamund Pike) has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. As a statewide manhunt gets underway Nick falls under suspicion, the movie intercuts with flashbacks depicting how Nick and Amy got together and how their relationship began to disintegrate.

The story itself is uninteresting. The two leads uncompelling. The twists and turns of the plot not only predictable but so contrived there is no doubt they manifest only as a function of the writers transparent intent. A narrative built upon cliches and stereotypes there is no originality to be found. The movie professes to comment on the media, dishonesty, and relationships but in the age where divorce is common and everyone has a smartphone these "comments" are tired and rote. The only possible freshness that can be found is in the narratives construction which the actors are unable to pass off as believable.

Pike and Affleck flounder and fail to give performances that resemble realistic. Affleck gives us a hulking idiot prone to infidelity, a cowardly man-child fratboy. When called on to play anything other than smug charm he falls into soap opera. Pike attempts depth but her character is a trope, a woman scorned, vengeful and insane. Both characters are not only unlikable they aren't actually real people. They garner no sympathy, their actions meaningless, at the heart of Gone Girl there is nothing but apathy. Kim Dickins, Carrie Coon, and Tyler Perry put forth heroic efforts to bring this sagging, inept, melodramatic, 50's horror show to life but can only do so much to combat the tone, script, and leads.

There is also an undercurrent of misogyny throughout. Other than Dickins(as the homicide detective) and Coon(as Nick's sister) the other women in the movie fall into three categories dumb, crazy, or bitchy. Others have alleged that the movie shows more subtlety and finesse, I simply didn't see it.

An implausible plot with little thought or time for character. Contrived action. Melodramatic score and performances. Unclear message. Dull narrative.

Worst movie of the year.

Don't See It.

Middle West

swaying stalks

rasp and rustle

hard husks hang

plump for plucking

timid tassels 

whine and whisper

fields of corn, dry and golden

stretch for miles, like an earthbound ocean.

Apple Orchard

This past weekend I've been back in Rockford visiting my family, Adam and his boys. Nicole came down yesterday and this morning we took our long anticipated trip to the apple orchard. We've talked a lot about doing season/holiday activities but its hard to find the time. Living together is wonderful but it makes going out and doing stuff less urgent. It can be a difficult balance to strike.

Marta and Nick came with, it was a beautiful day. Sunny and crisp. The only apples we could pick were golden delicious and there weren't a lot of them on the trees. Come to find out September is more prime for apple picking. We got reprimanded by a farm boy riding around in a gator for picking in an unauthorized row. In our defense, it wasn't clearly marked.

We walked out of the orchard, through the pumpkin patch, and a little ways into the corn. It was all very satisfying. Participating in the ritual of the harvest.

Marta and I reminisced a bit, going to the orchard was something we did every fall as kids. I haven't been to one in years. I've missed it.

We went into the barn and got some apple donuts, a must, then did some shopping. Next to this sign there were a couple kids running around trying to pull antique farming equipment off the walls. Same thing I did years ago.

The past week has been a bit of whirlwind. NYC to Chicago to Rockford. The differences are striking. But sitting at that farm drinking hot cider and eating a warm donut with my sister, brother-in-law, and loving girlfriend I get the feeling I'm exactly where I'm suppose to be.

Leaves

In high school my group of guy friends and I would engage in illicit after dark activities. Not drinking or drugging- I only drank twice in high school, smoked pot once- but nighttime pranks. TPing for the most part, we prided ourselves on not only using a lot of toilet paper but in the artistic drape of our many and varied sheets, the carefully composed shaving cream scribed messages on blacktopped driveways, the careful mandalaesk scattering of smoked fish. We were craftsmen.

Once, in the fall we started collecting bags of leaves. For about a month we drove around in Adam's van and picked up peoples bags of leaves and stashed them behind some bushes on the side of my house. On one of our trips we found ten full bags at the end of a driveway with a poster board sign that said "Jim Did These" with a photograph of a shirtless old man. We took that too.

After we had accumulated sixty bags full of those brown badges of autumn I had the guys over for a sleepover. We snuck out after midnight, packed up the van, and headed to the house of Marissa the object of our juvenile stunt.

Drew, James, Adam, and I gleefully dumped mound after mound of leaves on Marissa's immaculate yard. Covering it completely. Her block had few trees, what little leaves there were had already been raked and disposed of, the image was striking. Rows of houses with clean green lawns and one lone house squarely blanketed with brown. In one of the bags we found yellow flowers as yet unwithered which I carefully arranged on the door step.

Before making our stealthy departure we capered and rolled in our handiwork like the kids we were slowly unbecoming. And as we sped off in the warmth of Adam's Ford Aerostar the flush of satisfaction and victory was in our cheeks. Fat on the glories of youth and the generosity of Fall.

'Fury' A Review

Fury is a WWII action movie about a tank commander and his five-man crew in the last month of the European Theater. The movie opens on a carnage filled battlefield as a Nazi officer rides through it on a white horse. Wardaddy(Brad Pitt) springs from a seemingly abandoned tank, kills the officer and frees the horse. Pitt and his crew the only surviving tank of the skirmish return to base a man down and receive fresh faced former typist Pvt Norman Ellison(Logan Lerman) as a replacement. The dirty and semi-feral crew takes to the new recruit with disdain and offers up a good amount of abuse which, of course, turns into grudging camaraderie as they trudge towards the end of the war.

The movie suffers from some of its influences, both direct and indirect, and from the legion of WWII movies that have gone before it. With Saving Private Ryan, Band Of Brothers, and even Inglorious Basterds in the not to distant past Fury offers little by comparison other than gore. The life of these soldiers in the tank is visceral and claustrophobic, we get a real sense of how tanks operated and what the machinations of tank warfare looked like, the authenticity doesn't extend further. The script piggybacks on character tropes and plot devices that are so recycled they hold no value. Even the "shocking" moments don't set it apart not only because we've seen it all before but because we're not terribly invested in any of the characters.

Pitt does too much and seems to be engaged in a constant struggle to shake of the persona and cadence of his more appealing Aldo Raine. Lerman stumbles through the movie with the same wide-eyed petulant boyish-naivte he showed as Percy Jackson and in the more recent Noah. He offers no weight or depth, when the tank crew starts to like him we don't believe it, he has shown us nothing to change their minds. The rest of the crew Bible, Gordo, and Coon-Ass(Shia LaBeouf, Michael Peña, and Jon Bernthal) offer up gritty lived in performances which unfortunately have no real outlet.

An unoriginal piece of entertainment which those too young to have seen Saving Private Ryan may find compelling.

Rent It.

Big City Blues

The G train hurtles
through the burrows
of Brooklyn borough
toward a man-made monument
to nature's tranquility.

You fidget, flick
pick, and preen
tendrils, wafts, of unease.

Thick, it clouds my eyes
I cop a buzz
it coats my tongue.

A contact high
from your rising panic
tearing ahead
to the depths of manic.

Bayard–Condict Building

Senior year of college I transcribed this monologue from the documentary The Cruise. I used it for auditions after graduation, for the most part it went over well. Last week in New York I stopped by the building to pay homage.

"Oh look, straight up, oh that’s a great view, the white terracotta straight ahead. That’s the one building that Louis Sullivan designed for New York City."

"Look at the meticulousness, and you know that strong vertical launch in the facade is typical of the Sullivan milieu. You know terracotta becomes one of the major materials of New York City architecture. Its like a sand baked brick its not quite granite and its not quite brick it kinda walks the mainstream middle and it was excellent for New York City architecture because it could hang off the skeletons of the buildings its much lighter than stone. The difference though between stone and terracotta I think with me that strikes me the most is that terracotta reflects the sun light and stone absorbs it and you can see the bouncy light along the building."

"When I see terracotta like this it just makes me feel like I’m senselessly running through a meadow or high grassland area nude chasing a woman I’ve never met before whose entirely nude and its just the most raw and primordial chase. Two nude human beings running through grassland marsh area."

"As you move up the building can’t you feel the undulations of her curvature the um ah yes yes that slight groan some people have during the act of intercourse. The like ugh, like the somewhat dying grunt of a beautiful woman grunting in the storms of her own malaise. You can feel it in the matriculations of the cornice lines of the terracotta. That’s why the terracotta is important to me. The ugh, the ugh moments of life. Ugh. Ugh. Yes. Yes. Oh god! Please. The begging parts of life, on the left side you see those like lionesk characters way up there. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop!"

'The Judge' A Review

 The Judge is a courtroom feel-good drama about estranged slick Chicago lawyer Hank Palmer(Robert Downey Jr.) going back to his small Indiana home town for his mother's funeral. The day after the burial the titular Judge Hank's father Joseph Palmer(Robert Duvall) is arrested under suspicion of murder one. Hank represents his father in his trial and is drawn back into the small town life he fled. Encountering an ex-girlfriend, disgruntled hick locals, and reconnecting with his brothers the film is a coming-of-middle-age tale.

The film lands at an uneasy mid-point between Cameron Crowe and John Grisham. Not hard enough for a court room drama but lacking the requisite emotional journey for a softer more contemplative story. The ensemble is great with good turns by Vincent D'Onofrio as Hank's older brother with an unrealized MLB career and Vera Farmiga as the teen GF who stuck around and bought the local diner. Duvall and Downey are obviously the stars of the show and The Judge is primarily their vehicle. Duvall playing up his cantankerousness and Downey his fast talking charm. It works and it is something a movie could be built around but almost all the other elements of the film work against its performances.

The soundtrack and score is syrupy sweet filled with early ought radio hits and ubiquitous sentimental ballads. Instead of subtly enhancing the mood it distracts from, even contradicts the action. Some of the shot composition as well is so cliche it is reminiscent of a Lifetime movie- Downey riding his Schwinn down the highway arms akimbo or laying on his mothers gravestone after a storm in the midst of a sea of fallen branches. Images that let the audience know how hard the person behind the camera is trying(and failing) to convey emotions we are already picking up on.

Good enough to watch, not good enough to make an effort to see.

Rent It.

Graffiti 139: New York City

 Smoke meth, hail Satan.

There was a surprising amount of chalk work around the city, this took up a whole wall.

An Evian advertisement.

Alfred Hitchcock?

New York City: The Perpetual Motion Machine.

Marvel Mish-Mash Mural.

"There is a thread that ties me to the night." -Mana

Cockroach, rat, and pigeon- the original denizens of New York.

The Big Apple

Took this picture of Tisher's street as I was heading to the airport. It was a great to see Tisher and spend some time with him in his new city. It's a good fit for him, sprawling and romantic, cosmopolitan and bizarre, full of freaks, hipsters, and affluent douches. We did everything I wanted to do, saw some shows, hit tourist hot spots, and had some great food. It was a full experience with lots of stuff to ruminate on and unpack.

At the beginning of the trip I was nervous, scared that I would get overwhelmed in the utter tumultuousness of the city. On the bus from LaGuardia to Tisher's it was packed and I could feel myself getting worked up, prepping for a freak out. My bus stop finally came and no one really moved, people were just shuffling in place. I called out loudly but calmly "coming out!" and people made way. I had a little breakthrough, I realized the MTA is just like the CTA, the same etiquette, the same mix of confused/belligerent patrons, the same protocol. Realized over the course of the visit Chicago and New York aren't that different. Of course NYC is bigger, faster, more intense but when it comes to actually functioning, the day-to-day stuff, they're similar enough for me to be able draw the parallels and make it work. Chicago operates at an 8, NYC at a 10, they're not the same but on the same end of the spectrum.

The culmination of that realization was that I could live in NYC. I'd be able to establish a routine, be able to make my way around, carve out my little part of the city, be able to endure and figure it out and make a life. I have the ability to do it, it is not outside my capacity.

My second realization after talking to people about their lives, work, classes and shows was that I do not want to. I applaud my friends for making the jump, I have faith that not only will they be happy but they will attain the comedy success they deserve. I won't move there unless I have a gig, I have no desire to move there blind and start taking improv classes over again. No desire to take on a big city again from the ground up. Don't see the benefit in struggling to make rent let alone get stage time. Not to degrade that choice, I'm sure they are making longer and firmer strides towards a comedy career than I am, but it is comforting to come to the conclusion that that is not my path. The line between delight and despair is paper-thin in NYC. For a while there I felt left behind, confused, lost as to what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it. Going to New York and seeing it I know I'm where I'm suppose to be.

The trip, although not particularly restive, was inspiring. Creatively invigorating. I'm back in Chicago more balanced than I have been in months. Grateful for the opportunities I have, the loving friends that surround me, and Chicago itself.

Good Food & Lots of Walking

We got up kind of early this morning to meet Andel for brunch, she's currently on a Second City ship which ports out of NYC on Saturdays. To fortify us for the trip into Manhattan we stopped at Peter Pan Donuts just down the street from Tisher's apartment. Although Rockford's now defunct House Of Donuts will always hold a nostalgic and delicious place in my heart the chocolate glazed donut I had a Peter Pan's may be the best I've ever had.

We met Andel at The Wren in the East Village. As always it was wonderful to see her, she's just one of those people I click with automatically, instinctually on the same page. After spending time with her I always feel refreshed, focused. I got the Irish Breakfast which was very good, the blood sausage certainly was head and shoulders above any I've tried before.

After brunch we went to a bookstore then passed Gandhi on the way to the train. When we got back to his apartment Tisher napped while I wandered down to the river front.

Made a friend on the way.

On the river front there was some kids shooting a short film and a couple taking engagement photos. I've seen a lot of photo shoots the last couple days, about half models and half couples. Even so there wasn't that many people around. It was nice to take an hour or so by myself and listen to the waves break along the beach.

Empire State Building on the left, Chrysler Building on the right.

Tisher and I headed to Prospect Park for the evening. Walked around, talked, and tried to stay in the light. It was thrilling, even thought NYC isn't what it once was in regards to crime, it felt a little dangerous walking around this huge park after dark. No telling who could be hiding in the shadows.

The night was clear and cool, mist gathered above the vacant baseball fields. At one point we passed a cabin hosting a wedding reception. The dulcet rhythms of Mambo #5 breaking the otherwise pervasive silence.

Because of construction we got out a couple stops early and walked the rest of the way home. We passed through a kind of seedy neighborhood, then a neighborhood of Hasidic Jews with tons of folks out and about in full garb, it abruptly changed when we went under the BQE and were back in hipster Williamsburg. It was interesting how the texture of a neighborhood would change drastically by only traveling a couple feet. Tisher said the above is the Brooklyn town hall.

We got a late night slice, another New York must, then went to bed.

The Bridge, The Square, & New York Improv

After breakfast Tisher and I headed to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was the only must for me of the trip. This view is facing Manhattan.

I've only been to NYC twice before. My first visit I was 8 and the only thing I remember is seeing a guy get mugged. The second time was my senior year of college. The city was too big for me then, too cramped, too intimidating. But at one point we walked across the bridge basically alone, it was the middle of November, and I was struck by the beauty of the skyline and the peace of those weathered stones.

Crisp and a bit overcast it was an ideal fall day. The walk over the bridge was meditative and majestic. One direction the spikes and spires of Manhattan, the other the chaotic sprawl of Brooklyn. The Brooklyn Bridge is my favorite place in New York. There's a stalwartness about it, a serenity, an uncompromising gentleness. The bridge feels familiar, there's comfort in that.

This view is facing Brooklyn.

We crossed the bridge and wandered through lower Manhattan, passed a couple different court houses, and crossed this street.

This squirrel greeted us as we stopped to rest in Washington Square Park.

A surprising amount of flowers still in bloom.

We meandered through the square and continued north for a while then got on a train back to Brooklyn.

Annie and Joey joined us for dinner, great to see them. Bizarre for me, seeing all my Chicago friends in NYC, starting this new chapter of their lives, anxious and excited.

Tisher and I tried to see Gone Girl but it was sold out so we went to The Judge instead, review forthcoming. Then we went to see Conner's team at UCB.

I've heard a lot of talk about New York Improv vs. Chicago Improv, game play vs. scene work. I've never seen any New York teams to make the comparison until tonight, and I have to say possible bias acknowledged, NYC has got nothing on Chicago when it comes to improv. Conner was amazing but the rest of the team, although there were a couple people with a lot of talent, were single-mindedly making/trying to make jokes the entire time. No scene went longer than twenty seconds without a walk-on or a tag out, most scenes were done in some nebulous non-space, nothing was set up, nothing was left to breathe, there was a singular focus on making jokes.

Don't get me wrong I was entertained. It was a decent show. But there was no patience, no heart, no real inspiration. If that was any indication of NYC improv, that style can be categorized not by "game play" but by a dogged need to be funny at the expense of actually improvising.

Anyway. It was nice to get a little improv fix and to finally see a show at UCB.

Central Park & Colbert

Got up at 4am to catch a flight to New York City to visit Tisher. After a bite to eat in Brooklyn we headed to Manhattan and walked around Central Park.

I can't stop thinking about one of my favorite movies The Cruise. It's about this double decker bus tour guide Timothy "Speed" Levitch. He has this amazing monologue about Central Park, listing all the tons of dirt and rocks, all the figures on plants and animals that were imported to construct it. The worlds largest man made piece of nature.

It was beautiful, quiet, and green. So bizarre to have such a huge park in the middle of a crowded city.

Walking around I haven't seen as many pigeons or rats as I expected.

There were people there but not a ton, it was easy to have a relatively solitary Central Park experience.

Being in New York reminds me of Through The Looking Glass. It feels like an amped up mirror image version of Chicago where everything is just a bit different. A bit faster, a bit more compact.

Central Park: an oasis for the on-the-go New Yorker.

Shakespeare in the park.

By the lakefront under the stairs these two weirdos were playing violin and singing opera. Behind me there was a middle aged guy with a huge string contraption making bubbles. It was wonderful.

After the park we went to The Colbert Report. Robert Plant was the guest. I wouldn't describe it as fun exactly, I feel like Tisher and I as comedy people can kind of see the strings being pulled, and with Ariel writing for the show I didn't go into it with the same kind of unbridled enthusiasm as some of the other tourist type guests. Regardless it was very cool. It went by surprisingly quick and Colbert was all business, the consummate professional, compelling from the moment he hit the stage.

Once the taping was over Ariel(I made her make a "tough" face) took us back stage and showed us her office and the writers room. It was all very exciting and wonderful. She was incredibly generous getting us the tickets and showing us around and I think very excited some friends came to see her work.

We got dinner and caught up, Ariel describing her routine and me providing Chicago updates. A great first day.