Canada has no government, apparently. You'd never know, though 'cause no one is running in the streets, the police are still out in force, and everything seems pretty much normal. Canada is so polite.
So in the 2 weeks since my last update, a lot has happened. Figures, right? I've had weird internet access, as well as generally more to do than I usually have. This leg of the tour has been very Matt-friendly with its venues, with the East Coast, Vegas and a week off in Chicago, where I spent a lot of time with Stephanie and a lot of time writing.
There's plenty to tell, and I'll probably post a few pictures, so I'll put a bunch of crap after the break.
And except for the hot, hot women playing the two lead female roles and the guy from (the under-seen and under-rated) BROTHERHOOD OF THE WOLF playing the ONLY male role, MOULIN ROUGE was a way better take on the musical-based tragedy genre. I mean, there were some spectacular moments in the movie that I'm going to definitely watch again to see how they were done (was it digital bullshittery or clever mirror placement that made sure we never saw the camera, even when we should have?), but many of them were overwhelmed by the obviousness of the choices that Aronofsky made in the symbolism. Really.
The rest of this review is now past the break because it kept growing to the point where it was awkward to keep everything above the fold. Thanks for understanding. And if you don't want my opinionated take (and probably a spoiler or two), don't click through.
For some reason, I've had Charlie Mack by DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince in my head for a couple of days now. Maybe it's because it's sort of about touring, or maybe it's just because it's a sillyfun song, but I've been singing it, so now I'm inflicting it on you.
Today starts the madness of doing the 2-in-a-rows. This morning was the last time I'll fell well-rested for a week or so, which is going to wreak havoc on my senses and on my complexion. Gross. Regardless, NYC, DC and Boston have all been pretty good to me, at least in terms of seeing friends & family I love. The shows have been going well, too.
PCW purchased a new Mac last Thursday - it's time to start looking into new (and available) prompter rigs. Can HDMI deliver signal over 150' cables? 200? 100? How is that impacted by couplers? Do they even make couplers? What about L-brackets? What do I do about different resolutions for different monitors? I'd guess you'd have to get identical monitors for every kit, which is fine, too, but something that we don't do now, exactly. that'd be better anyway.
Today has been a tough day, personally - I'm feeling very disconnected and far away, so it's been hard to get myself balanced and on point to be creative. And I was going to write a great treatment for the Naked Ninja boobsploitation flick today, too. Ah well. There's always tomorrow. At least until there isn't, right?
So, this isn't a travel note so much as a musing on how immensely, impractically, numbingly, earth-shakingly stupid your dear old skipper is. I've left my face wash at not one, not two, but three different hotels. The second time, I was pissed. Today when I realized it, I just sighed about the loss of eight perfectly good dollars and went and threw good money after bad.
I know I'm a guy and that guys aren't supposed to wash our faces with anything except a brill-o pad and bleach, but it's my one on-the-road concession to my feminine side, and damn it, I'm going to keep buying the fucking face wash regardless of how many times I leave it in hotels. I only have about 5 more hotels before I get back home anyway, so that's only another $40 I'll spend to wash my face (every other day or so, too, given the rate at which I'm near a shower and my dop kit at the same time). That's like $4 per wash.
Ah well. This is the price I'm assigning to being a forgetful douchebag.
There comes a time when the dirt under your fingernails becomes as much a part of you as the nail itself, and when you notice that's become the case, it's time for a shower.
The bus' engine rumbles beneath them as they hurtle down the nighttime highway in search of another destination, another sold-out arena, another truck-tip, another load-in, another day in the life of a roadie. Some of the guys drink beer. One drinks red wine, one white. Two and a half men is on the flat-screen, playing in a marathon from someone's collection, now moved to the PS3. There's a huge bouquet of flowers that one of the girls rescued from a dressing room after the band had left; the eucalyptus makes the bus smell a little fresher.
So I've spent the last week in NYC and DC, a fact that's kept me super busy. That's awesome, because it means I've gotten to see a bunch of people I choose to see (and who choose to see) for a change. Fun times. These east coast tours are bad for my clapboard updates, so those of you I'm not updating in real life (IRL) get more sporadic updates. Sorry about that.
This update, in fact, is just a crappy one, 'cause we're doing sound check early today, which means that I don't have time to upload pictures right now. I'll make it up to you, though, swear. Next update will have pictures, i swear. If it were as easy to resize video as images, I'd even shoot you a little video. Someday. Clapboard is going to get more and more multimedia-y, too, at least, that's the goal for 2011. That, and giving you guys more and more reasons to come back.
Happy Sunday, and go Oscar - have a good show tonight, which I will completely ignore.
Canada has no government, apparently. You'd never know, though 'cause no one is running in the streets, the police are still out in force, and everything seems pretty much normal. Canada is so polite.
So, this isn't a travel note so much as a musing on how immensely, impractically, numbingly, earth-shakingly stupid your dear old skipper is. I've left my face wash at not one, not two, but three different hotels. The second time, I was pissed. Today when I realized it, I just sighed about the loss of eight perfectly good dollars and went and threw good money after bad.