Suspended Animation

Many of my friends know that I am currently awaiting my results from the July administration of the Texas Bar exam. The official line is that they are due out on November 4, but rumor is that Texas often releases scores early. On top of that, I am waiting to hear whether I got the clerkship with the federal judge in Springfield. He interviewed me last year and didn't give me the job. And then we spent a couple hours together last spring when he judged a moot court competition that I organized. This year, I reapplied and he interviewed me again. At this point, as much as he has seen me, it would be just cruel for him to not hire me. But the interview was back on September 23, and though he said it could be the end of October before he decided, I am just dying with every hour that the phone doesn't ring.

All the waiting is just killing me. I can't concentrate on anything and my girlfriend seems kind of over me at the moment. And currently -- like right at this very moment -- the Astros are down in the World Series 0-2, and they just gave up four runs in one inning to lose the lead in game three. None of this makes me happy.

But maybe they will pull it out, and maybe my phone will ring tomorrow, and maybe my name will be on the pass list whenever it comes out. In any case, all the waiting will be over with next week.

Go 'Stros!!!

I dare not speculate how the series with the hated Cardinals will go, but conventional wisdom is already labeling yesterday's marathon eighteen inning game as the best playoff game in history. It had it all -- a grand slam to bring the Astros within one late in the game, a two-out homerun in the bottom of the ninth to tie up the game, nine -- count 'em, nine -- more grueling innings in which Roger Clemens came out to make only his second relief appearance in his career to hold the Braves to 0 runs for three innings, and finally a walk-off home run by a bench rookie. I watched every minute of the 6+ hour ordeal, and though I did experience some heartburn, it was the most amazing game I have ever watched. I could hear my MeMe cheering with every strike Clemens threw and she cheered with me when Burke's hit cleared the fence to finally end the game.

Of swaggering sailors and grieving military wives

Tara and I went to see one of my favorite bands de jour, the Decemberists, last night. They have had some play recently on the local radio stations with their song Sixteen Military Wives. That song is, to my mind, the best piece of political songwriting on the radio, and I would say that even if it weren't the only piece of political songwriting on the radio. But what I truly love about this band is that they are story-tellers, narrating tales straight out of Victorian era newspaper serials and following those stories up with sly ballads about losing your friend's bike or experiencing spectacular humiliation on the playing field. The Decemberist sing about sailors settling old scores in the belly of a whale, haunting elegies about barrel boys, and Dickensian chimney sweeps. Though they are not at all country, the band's dedication to narrative songwriting makes me think of some of the great country balladeers like Marty Robbins and Johnny Horton.

The concert did not disappoint. The sextet includes Colin Melloy's sharp yet lilting cadence and lead guitar backed up by a lush mix of violin, upright bass, accordion and keyboards, bass guitar, and drums. The band jockeyed the appreciative audience back and forth between melancholy ballads and bouncy popesque tunes with fun bass lines. The band has been prodigious since its formation in 2001, and the set list was comprised of songs from their three albums and also included a new song. I was impressed by the range of ages in the audience, and the music seemed to resonate with the high school kids even as their parental chaperones happily bobbed to the music. A lovely evening was had by all and I highly recommend checking out any of The Decemberists releases.

Schmacting

After years of cultivating an image of myself as the non-acting director, I will be making my western Massachusetts acting debut on Thursday night. I have been directing a piece for a production of short plays, and, as happens in community theater, an actor crapped out on me. Actually, I fired the guy, and what a guy he was. In a month of rehearsals I never managed to glean his occupation except to learn that he had substitute taught in Springfield, but he hated the other teachers and administration there. He ran the "Sylvia Plath" committee here in Northampton with the goal of forcing Smith College and Northampton to honor the legacy of his favorite poet, but he hated all those folks out there who ever dared mention that she had stuck her head in an oven to end her life. He believed no other playwright other than Shakespeare merited discussion of any type (an odd stance for an African-American gay man, I think), looked down upon all people who watched television, and could not bring himself to perform "low" humor -- which was too bad given that, in his opinion, our entire play consisted of low humor.

After hearing him insult every other member of the cast and myself and picking fights at every rehearsal, firing him was an easy choice. Apparently it was easy for him as well given his missive to me following Sunday's ill-fated rehearsal:

Ms. Elkins:

Thank you for firing me--although I think it was
nonsense. I never liked, or felt any chemistry with
any of the cast--including you--and that makes it very
hard (I felt my acting was fine). It's the first time
I never connected with not ONE SINGLE PERSON in a
group. There was a lack of sophistication within the
group. My type of personality I felt the cast could
not handle. I never want to be in an environment
wherein discussion walks such a delicate line.

Chemistry aside, I do believe Rxxxx is just an idiot.

I want to be reimbursed ($3.16) for the gloves and the
handkerchiefs if you do not mind.

Again, thanks for the severance.

-----Mxxxx

The guy was a major drain on everybody's groove, so I canned him. Note that he cited the entire cast for its lack of sophistication, which is funny because as he was stalking out of the room screaming "fuck you" at the top of his lungs, I thought to myself, "now there goes a sophisticated guy."

And so now I am playing his role and will be taking the stage again for the first time since college. Should be interesting.