Well, dear readers, you won’t believe it. I don’t believe it and yet I am living it. I have to be at work at six a.m. That is the time the editor I’ve been working with comes in. I haven’t had to come in early before (nor will I again) but he has run out of things he can do without me. Now, can you imagine trying to think at that hour of the morning? The mind boggles. The only upside is that I shall leave at four p.m. I left forty minutes early last night, only to be caught in horrifying freeway traffic (accident just east of the 405 that backed traffic up a good fifteen miles. I got off the freeway immediately and took Ventura Blvd. home. Unfortunately, Ventura Blvd. was worse than the fershluganah freeway and it took me an hour and ten minutes to get home, a ride that with light traffic takes me fourteen minutes. Can we say that I was not a happy Hainsie? Can we say that I was a frazzled lunatic by the end of my trip?
In any case, since I must be up and at ’em, I’m afraid I’ve not time to be pithy and witty, or is that withy and pitty? I have no time to dazzle with my effervescent prose, or to prose with my effervescent dazzle. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, instead of razzle dazzle I have frazzle dazzle. The weekend cannot arrive soon enough. Or, to put it another way, soon enough cannot arrive the weekend. I was so prepared for today’s notes to be pithy and witty and to sparkle like a diamond, but instead these here notes will be blunted by time constraints. Yes, Virginia, blunted by time constraints. I hate being blunted by time constraints, don’t you? A pox on time constraints, say I.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below, because frankly or even edwardly this section must end because we are blunted by time constraints.
Has anyone noticed that these here notes are blunted by time constraints? That is simply heinous (heinous, do you hear me?) and yet there is nothing we can do about it because such is the rhythm of life, which is a powerful thing – oh, a Cy Coleman/Dorothy Fields reference.
I cannot believe that in moments I will be on the freeway driving in darkness to Woodland Hills. Can you believe it? Now, I want all you Hainsies/Kimlets to pull together and give me an extraordinary number of posts today – it is the only way I’ll get through the day without totally imploding. We’ve been a bit light the last few days, even though traffic at this here site has actually been great.
If you haven’t heard the current radio show with Donald and Lisa Richard (and me), do tune in, it’s swell. And I do promise that we will finally have some new interviews very soon – we can only post them as fast as they come back to us, but several are very close to being finished.
As the opening of Amour approaches, we would like to send our very own Todd Ellison a big Hainsie/Kimlet group hug, and wish him the very best.
Well, dear readers I’m feeling blunted by time constraints, so I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must be bleary-eyed and vaguely discontented, I must go hither and thither and then come home. Now, let’s have lots of posts – you must do this for the gipper. Today’s topic of discussion: Please weigh in with your least favorite CDs – I mean, the ones you truly thought abominable, the ones that got a single play and then ended up on the shelf, in the trash, or in the used bin at your local store. Musical theater CDs, soundtracks, singers, rock, whatever you abhorred, we want to hear about it and hear about it with blistering truth. Post away, my pretties, and I can’t wait to read your responses.