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March 11, 2019:


Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, the weather here in Los Angeles, California, USA, is completely schizophrenic.  One minute it’s raining, the next the sun is out and it’s like summer weather, and then it’s raining, and that goes back and forth like a tennis match between Guy Haines and Bjorn Borg.  I wonder if any other blog on all the Internet has the name Bjorn Borg in it today? Or Guy Haines, for that or any other matter.  Anyway, we who live here are a little tired of the oh so schizo weather.

Yesterday, aside from the schizo weather, it was a perfectly serviceable day. I was up at nine-thirty (really eight-thirty), changed the time on the two clocks that needed to have that done (stove and microwave) and then young Ellie Birdwell and her mom came to watch The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, because Ellie appeared in our Legrand show and has been enjoying discovering his music.  I think she enjoyed the film very much – I’m sure it took some getting used to in terms of the pace and style, but it really is such a perfect and one-off movie, a real masterpiece.  Ellie took home two ME books to read – Murder at the Grove and Red Gold.  She’s already read Thrill Ride and GEE, both of which she liked.

Then I did some work on the computer, had some telephonic calls, but mostly just relaxed.  I watched a Blu-ray I’ve had for two years and hadn’t even opened – a low-budget film called Private Property, starring Corey Allen and Warren Oates (his first film), made in 1960 and pretty much a lost film until a print was found.  It’s really not very good (although you wouldn’t know that from all the people jumping over themselves to proclaim it brilliant and a lost gem), but the photography is very good, and it’s briskly paced.  Interestingly, about twelve years later, Corey Allen would direct me twice for the TV show, This Is the Life.

Then I took a shower, then moseyed on over to the mail place to pick up a package, then met up with Hartley Powers and mom Dorathy.  They drove to Pasadena and we ended up eating at Du-Par’s.  I, of course, had a short stack to start, which Dorathy ate half of – between us, we had about a pancake and a half.  Then I had the mac-and-cheese, but I was pretty full from the pancakes, so I only ate half.  Oh, and the pancakes were absolutely stellar.  After that, we drove the three blocks to the theater.

Last night, I saw the reading of a new musical, one of those Equity twenty-nine-hour affairs.  I’ve directed a few and I always fully stage them, but this wasn’t that.  This was music stands.  Being a first-time public reading, I shan’t comment, but there’s work to be done, certainly.  Kay Cole was the director, and I knew most of the cast.  I also knew most of the audience.  I sat next to Roger Bean, the creator of The Marvelous Wonderettes.  Sandy Bainum was there, as was Yvette Lawrence Bishop – back in 1994 I recorded her on A Broadway Christmas (can’t remember if that was her only album for me).  Her daughter Daisy was in the reading and she’s literally a clone of her mom, both looks-wise and voice-wise.  I could record Daisy singing the song her mom sang and you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

After that, I stopped at Ralph’s for a couple of needed items, then came home. I made one tuna sandwich and ate it. I listened to more Jacques Loussier – this time solo piano doing Chopin nocturnes – very nice.

Today, I can sleep in, then I’m choosing songs – we’re all set save for one gal and I have an ask out and if she can’t do it then I have someone who will.  And Fay De Witt is coming in to do two songs, so that will be fun.  I’ll eat something light, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, and then I’ll relax.

The rest of the week is meetings and meals, and doing and going and going and doing, and catching up on stuff and trying to solidify exactly what’s happening in the next eight weeks, as I haven’t been good about writing down dates and such.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, sleep in, choose songs, hopefully pick up packages, eat, and relax.  Today’s topic of discussion: Have you ever had this phenomenon happen:  Someone explicitly asks for your opinion and tells you they want you to be really honest, you give them what they ask for and then they get angry that you gave them what they asked for?  And how do you deal with it, if that has indeed happened? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, hoping the weather will recover from its bout of schizophrenia.

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