Well, dear readers, I am sitting here like so much fish, having been a bad boy late-night eater, doing something I swore I’d never do again, i.e., go to Popeye’s late at night. I stopped there on the way home from rehearsal. They only had one mild chicken breast left and deep down I know it’s been sitting there for HOURS, and yet, I get it and three little tenders that also look like deformed, mutant limbs. Sometimes my brain just won’t function correctly and this was clearly one of those times. The reality is that when I came home and ate them, they weren’t so bad, but now I’m a little nauseous – nothing terrible, but still, I must learn the don’t go to Popeye’s an hour before closing time. And now, as I write these here notes, I am listening to the first symphony of one Arnold Bax, an English composer from England who composed. I’ve always enjoyed his music and I’m enjoying it now and I don’t care who knows it. I also finished The Man with the Golden Gun. It jumps the shark several times in the final forty-five minutes. That idiot hick sheriff is enough to kill any movie and I’m sad to report that it was director Guy Hamilton’s idea to bring him back. Christopher Lee is fun as the villain, only the writers haven’t really given him anything to do and his demise is perfunctory. The nadir of the film is a car stunt in which the producers insert a slide whistle as it takes off and as it lands. Not only are we in Smokey and the Bandit land, we’re in The Three Stooges land, too. Britt Ekland’s character is so stupid that you just want to brain her. And as I said, you can see them trying to add some “tough” to Roger Moore, only he doesn’t do tough very convincingly. He’s simply Bond-lite. Then I watched the first fifteen minutes of the next film, The Spy Who Loved Me. Everyone considers it to be the film that’s a return to form. I’ve seen this one before but have little memory of it. It does have a decent pre-titles sequence that ends with a spectacular shot that you know got huge cheers in the theater. The song is wonderful (Nobody Does it Better), but Mr. Hamlisch is in full disco mode here and it’s really irritating. I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it through all the Roger Moore films.
Yesterday was another peculiar day. I managed to get in bed by one-thirty and fell asleep pretty quickly, which was good. What wasn’t good was waking up around four-thirty. I tried to fall back asleep to no avail – even though I’d taken an allergy pill, my allergies were so strong that it wasn’t really being effective. I think I was back in bed by six, slept until the alarm went off at nine-thirty, at which point the helper’s mom was just leaving her morning appointment and was still a good twenty-five minutes away. So, left her stuff on the back porch and went back to sleep and slept until one. So, I think that’s about eight hours, maybe a little more, but I sure could use consecutive hours. I did Taco Bell again for food – it’s just so close and so convenient and the special box o’ stuff I’ve been getting is only six bucks – best deal in town. I ate that, had some telephonic calls, did some stuff on the computer, then finished the Bond film and began another. Then I showered and got ready for rehearsal, at which point I moseyed on over to the theater.
We ran scenes several times, thought of some fun stuff, and were done by nine, which was grand. Then it was Popeye’s, which was foolish, then it was eating the food, which was more foolish, and then it was nausea, which was most foolish of all. Then, just as I began writing these here notes, I had a very long telephonic call with the singer. She’d had her show filmed by the Vitello’s folks – they’ve been live streaming and filming shows for the past year. They have five cameras and they live switch and then give the performer their live cut with the two-track house mix. But they also have a multi-track Pro Tools session, should anyone want to do a proper mix. Well, she got the video and was appalled by it – the live switching was arbitrary, they didn’t really know the show so they never quite knew where to be when and it just wasn’t to her liking at ALL. She sent it to me and she was absolutely correct and the two-track live mix was horrible – piano sounded like it was a block away and you could hear zero audience reaction. So, we’re going to get all five ISO cameras and the live cut in hi-def and then Marshall Harvey will fix it up to our liking and this he’ll be able to do very quickly. I’ll also get the Pro Tools session and we’ll have our wonderful John Adams do a proper mix – I’m trying to ascertain that one of the Pro Tools tracks will have a track where we can actually hear the audience. Then she’ll be able to extract from that a sizzle reel to try and get bookings. I think I convinced her to do a one-time-only livestream of it on the Tube of You, because I know you dear readers would like to see it.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll eat something VERY light, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages and mail, and then I’ll just watch, listen, and relax, which is what I need.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to be up early and I’ll go have a light breakfast somewhere and then I’ll return home once she of the Evil Eye is gone, and then I can relax for the rest of the day and evening. Sunday, we have a three-hour rehearsal beginning at two o’clock. Monday, we’ll convene around five-thirty, get everything set up for the reading, then run all the transitions and stage the little ending I’ve thought of, which is simple as can be. Then we do the reading. On Tuesday, we start the whole damn process over again.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must for example, be up when I’m up, do whatever needs doing, eat something VERY light, hopefully pick up packages and mail, and then at some point I’ll watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Friday – what is currently in your CD player and your DVD/Blu and Ray player? I’ll start – CD, nothing. Blu-ray, Bond and more Bond. Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, hoping that I’ve learned my lesson, Popeye’s-wise, and that my promise to never do that again will preclude me from ever doing that again.