First, if you haven’t read the boy’s first movie column, you can find it here: http://www.matchflick.com/column/2223

I’ve just returned from a short vacation–went to the redwoods (where I was tricked into hiking), San Francisco, and Ashland, where I was lucky enough to see Hamlet, The Merchant of Venice, and Henry IV, Part 1. One of the actors in the company is deaf, so certains characters in each play (including Hamlet’s father), were deaf as well, and some dialogue was signed in each show. I like the way this normalized difference, although one scene in Hamlet ended up having extra dialogue (just because I couldn’t understand it doesn’t mean that there weren’t extra lines). I’m not sure how I feel about adding lines, and I was distracted every time they had characters signing even when they couldn’t possibly see each other’s hands.

I’m surprised that it took me so long to get up to Ashland–I’ve wanted to go ever since I moved here ten years ago. The town was quaint, though not as quaint as Niagara on the Lake, where the Shaw festival is held. The production quality was high. A few of the local businesses try to Shakespeare it up–the vitamin store is “All’s Well,” for example. I’m looking forward to going back next year, if only to see Henry IV, Part 2 (I can’t wait to see how this turns out!).

While I was away, Denise discovered that an article I wrote had been stolen by this guy: http://www.bobholtonline.com/article/298.htm You’ll note that even though every word is mine, my name is not mentioned, nor is Mental Floss, the fine magazine I wrote the piece for. I have sent the gentleman an email requesting that he revise the post to credit the author. This is the second time I’ve seen someone post my work as their own on the internet. I feel violated.

Last night I saw MacHomer for the third time. It was at the California Shakespeare Theatre in Orinda. We headed up for a picnic before the show, which was interrupted briefly as I went to talk to a documentary crew about the show–they’re apparently producing a DVD version of the show to be used in schools and I was called upon to talk about the educational potential of the show, as the Simpsonologist I am.

I had gotten front row seats, only to find that two of those seats had been accorded to the DVD crew; the solution ended up being to move all of the seats down by two.

Rick Miller’s performance was, as usual, amazing. The show is fascinating and funny. Most people have heard that it’s a Simpsonizing of Macbeth, but not everyone knows that it’s full of other popular culture references, self-referentiality, and even political jokes (the newspapers have Quebec separatist jokes). The show routinely incorporates that week’s news and local names as well.

It demonstrates Rick’s mastery of voice work, body work (each character he portrays in the one man show has a distinctive body posture), art work (he does all the music and art for his shows), understanding of the Bard and The Simpsons and theatre conventions, and rapid wit.

Was going to add a picture of Rick and I, but I can’t get the uploader to work . . .

Let’s get the morbid ones out of the way–Alexander is now the age I was when I had him. I am now the age my father was when he died. Neither of us will be replicating those behaviors, but it’s on my mind.

Had a wonderful birthday–got to see many friends, the btp made me dinner, and even the boy said happy birthday (from a different room than the one I was in . . .). It was especially nice because I’d finished grading the day before and that means that I have a few weeks off now. I get to finish the very last of the unpacking, get that to-do list pared down, and get organized (my desk still has that “end of the quarter” look). Am also going to watch a lot of movies because I simply can.

I’m also going to try to get out and see some shows–I’ve already seen Paula Poundstone (who was very funny–I’ve always admired her ability to work a room and to do the audience engagement stuff that most comics can’t do); I’ve done my own stand-up set at Luna’s; I will see MACHOMER at CalShakes tomorrow; I saw Al on Sunday.

Al was amazing, by the way. He performed for two and a half hours. There were props and costume changes, and he did six songs that I’ve never seen him do live before. I got a starter pack of Al trading cards and now I want more (that’s the whole point, right?). I wish it hadn’t been at the fair, though, because I don’t like fairs (unless they’re Renaissance, cause I’m white & nerdy), and I wish the lady beside me hadn’t taken up half my seat in addition to hers–it meant I left with a neck crick.

In other news, Proposition 8 has been declared unconstitutional because it, um, is. The whole reason we have a bill of rights is so that a biased/prejudiced majority can’t deny rights to a minority. Jefferson wouldn’t sign without that bill because he knew what we were like–he knew what we would do. For example, I would like to deny bigots the right to procreate. They tend to raise children who are accepting of a “bigoted lifestyle.”

The hysterical right keeps bringing up the same old points. That these are special, not equal rights. That this is a threat to marriage. Well, I have to say that I managed to have two failed marriages before I was thirty. That’s because I made bad choices; it’s not because my homosexual friends were having more successful relationships than I’ve ever managed to. And my current desire to not marry nor to cohabitate has nothing to do with gay people, except for the knowledge that if I could turn gay (like the hysterical right thinks I can), I maybe could cohabitate successful with a woman, as Courtney’s presence seems to indicate that it’s the heterosexual roommate pairing that doesn’t work for me (unless the other person is my son, who theoretically has to do what I say).

It’s also nice that California is now once again keeping up with places like Iowa and Argentina–because it was embarrassing when we weren’t.

I don’t have it together enough to send out change of address cards, but let me know if you need the new info.

The moving is done (the unpacking is not). The strangest thing we found? Well, when the loveseat was moved, there was a pile of cat toys underneath, including a really realistic bird. I noted that the cats didn’t have a bird-shaped toy. Yes, the realism was created by realism. It was a new kill, though–no decomposition, no smell.

I’ve managed to unpack the kitchen so far, which is amazing, considering that I’ve moved into a kitchen about 1/6 of the size of the last one. As Dan noted, my new kitchen is smaller than the bathroom I share with the boy.

In other news: my new column on movie villains is up: http://www.matchflick.com/column/2206

Also, one of the first blogs I ever posted was on why you shouldn’t read all of the Sookie Stackhouse novels at once. I received a comment from “joker” who vaguely disagreed with me, but thanked me for reading. I wondered if Charlaine Harris had been googling herself. On my last trip to Canada, I read the latest novel. All of the flaws in the series were fixed. Did I actually add something to the world through literary criticism? I’d like to think so.

Finally, I’m performing my only stand-up show of the year at Luna’s in Sacramento at 8 p.m. tonight. Margaret France is headlining; it’s her last show before she moves to Turkey. Even though I’m exhausted and my back is locked up, I couldn’t say no to performing with my girl tonight.

Okay, off to find my underwear–they’ve got to be here somewhere.

I’ve been packing for my upcoming move across town for a week and a half, including 6 hours this morning (6 more hours after this short break and I get to stop!).
I thought I’d gotten rid of a lot of stuff (half my books) before, but I’ve gotten rid of tons of crap this week. Of course, it doesn’t seem to be making a difference when I look at the boxes, but then, it never does.
Some things I’m discovering in the process–
a. it is impossible to follow physical therapist instructions and move at the same time. Technically, I’m not supposed to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk (this little rule gets broken almost every day I go to class). In theory, I’m not supposed to have to bend down or to stretch up to retrieve anything–I have yet how to figure out how to live my life with everything at counter level, though. Although my back hurts every day, it’s screaming at me about these rules right now, though its voice is muffled by necessity.
b. everything in my house has decided to break–nothing major, just a few things I have no idea how to take care of and all at once and irritating.
c. I have a bunch of stuff that I can’t really explain. Why would I have a bottle of dry vermouth and a bottle of sweet vermouth when I don’t drink anything that needs either?
d. I have trouble getting rid of potentially useful stuff. I’m usually (99% of the time) too lazy to take my eye makeup off and thus have three full bottles of eye makeup remover. I should really throw them all out, but I could possibly use them all up by the time I’m dead. Maybe. So I saved the most full bottle and threw out the other two.
Sigh.

I’m in the midst of packing (and teaching, etc), so I only have a moment, but I wanted to bitch a bit–Comedy Central is polluting the airwaves with its ads for the new roast of David Hasselhoff.

I’ve loved Comedy Central since its early days. The first things they used to show were reruns of SNL, Monty Python, and, wait for it . . . stand-up! Now the network is anchored by the best news shows on tv and other original programming. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough actual comedy sometimes, but it’s still a great place to land on in the shuffle of life.

Except that they really don’t seem to know what a roast is. A roast is when friends of a comedian tear the comedian a new one and then the comedian tears back.

It is NOT when some comics the network is trying to feature (some of whom have never met the roastee) gather around the easiest target in the world and make the most predictable jokes in the world. That’s not comedy–that’s laziness. Shoving some unseasoned potatoes in the microwave won’t give you roasted goodness.

Can you roast Chevy Chase? Yes, and they have, but in recent years they have featured such amazing non-comedians as flavor-flav, (I’m not googling that to make sure I spelled it right), William Shatner, and Pamela Anderson. We can do better than this–didn’t Obama’s election teach us anything about striving higher or about hope?

In other news, my new matchflick column is up: http://www.matchflick.com/column/2199

I’ve wanted to meet Margaret Atwood for a long time. I first read her in high school; the essay I wrote to get into my PhD program was on her; my dissertation was about her work; my Atwood reading group has been meeting weekly for six years or so. As the former President of the Margaret Atwood Society, I have had the opportunity to correspond with her (with her assistants, probably, but still).
Thus, I was very excited to be in the same room with her last week. My friend and colleague, Ted, who had hosted Atwood at his institution earlier this year, introduced us. I mentioned that I was the former President and, smiling, she asked if I’d been deposed. I explained that it had been a peaceful transfer of power. A few hours later, I was able to get her autograph, though by that time, I’d become Karmel, apparently.
The great disappointment was finding out that a lunch I’d skipped at the conference had her in attendance–I might have been able to have lunch with her! Oh, well, next time.
What struck me most about her was how luminous she was–she glows. I hope I look half as good when I’m in my early seventies. I hope I’m as smart and funny, too, but somehow I doubt it–I’d have to reach her level before I started worrying about whether age could take that level from me.
She was also shorter than I expected.
And how must I have seen to her? Young and giddy.
It made me think about how young I am, actually, which is why I was really surprised to have my friend Jason say that he had met a “fan” of mine while out smoking at one of the events. She apparently asked him what drew him to the event. He started to say he was there with his friend, but she cut him off and said “Karma.” She then went on to say that she’d read some of my work and that she’d heard me speak and that while she was an Atwood scholar, she wasn’t at my level.
Is this middle age? Feeling constantly like a child, while tired like an older person? Revering some and being revered by others?

Okay–it’s been awhile since I’ve written. First, I had to get the blog to stay up–let us all thank my faithful friend and reader, Ken, who donated his time and money to enable me to do so. Then, it was finals, and then I headed off to Canada for ten days.

Today I wanted to share my impressions on seeing Margaret Atwood at the 11th Short Fiction Conference in Toronto. I’ll talk about meeting Margaret Atwood the next time I log in.

Last Friday, Margaret Atwood had a talk with a former colleague and fellow writer at the short fiction conference. He, unfortunately, did not prepare questions–I think he was counting on knowing her for 40 years and on the audience’s interest in knowing that both of them started writing at the same time. I’m sure that I, as well as any of the other Atwoodians in the room, could have led a better discussion. At one point, even Atwood cut him off to say that she thought they should be talking about short fiction–he got a bit defensive and said he was trying to cover her entire body of work, although three of his questions were designed to get her to talk about her depiction of Toronto in her novels.

There were some highlights, though. Apparently, she and I pronounce Penelopiad the same way (there are three ways). She mentioned Colin Firth’s shirtless scene in Pride and Prejudice (we watch the same movies!). She also said that a friend had observed of The Handmaid’s Tale that it was surprising that no one had noticed that it was a veiled depiction of Harvard’s English Department from when Atwood was in graduate school there. Also, apparently, there was supposed to be a voice-over in the film version of The Handmaid’s Tale–she said that Richardson was playing against the voice over (so we could see what she was repressing), which added a lot to the role, but that the director cut it.

One woman asked a common question about Atwood not calling her work science-fiction. She managed to make the question sound hostile. Atwood’s answer was perfect. First, she explained that in terms of lineage and her own definitions, there was no debate. She sees Wells’s work as science-fiction–aliens and technology we don’t have, etc. She sees Verne’s work as speculative fiction–technology and ideas that are in development currently. She clearly falls into the latter category. She also noted that she doesn’t see one as better than the other, but that she was only good at the latter. Then she mentioned fantasy and how she simply can’t write dragons, though she loves to read about them (and said Le Guin’s Earthsea dragons were the best). She then talked about her overall enjoyment with the whole sci-fi/fantasy/spec-fic spectrum and said that she was the person who knows which orc wears a watch in Lord of the Rings and wonders too long about how Gandolf gets his staff back.

Later than night, Atwood did a short reading at the Toronto Public Library–she opened with “Our Cat Goes to Heaven” from The Tent. She then read the first part of “The Headless Horseman” from Moral Disorder. Those aren’t necessarily the works I would have picked, but the audience found them endearing and very funny. Atwood kept laughing herself at “The Headless Horseman”–I think it was the laughter of remembering the moment, as she’s mentioned that that particular story is completely autobiographical.

More to come–but do check out my new column on Katharine Hepburn at www.matchflick.com

This week started well–Alexander’s finale concert of the year was amazing. His chamber orchestra played beautifully and their guest conductor was quite impressive.

On Tuesday, I got to pick up my very best friend in the world from the airport. That’s right–Denise Du Vernay had arrived so that we could do our book launch! We spent Wednesday afternoon putting together our power point and then, after my third class of the day, we headed over to the venue. Luckily, Ken was there to help set up the a/v system.

We drew 50 people, including a woman who was buying a book for her son–he had a Simpsons-themed wedding. Our presentation went incredibly–all the more incredibly because we didn’t rehearse–we prefer to riff. The audience was engaged and laughing and the bookstore sold out of the copies they brought to sell. For some reason, our fans decided that book launch event require flowers, so we signed books surrounded by roses and assorted beautiful bouquets. We ended up staying in the room with a few close friends drinking margaritas until way after the staff was ready for us to go. (Then I couldn’t get to sleep cause I was so happy.)

Thursday was more restful, though we decided to invite friends for dinner. Dinner led to ice cream, but then the boy said we had to go home so he could do homework. Naturally, that meant we ended up with ten people in the living room drinking and eating my famous ginger-chip cookies until a bit after midnight.

Yesterday was full–I had three classes (including the one I subbed for) and two department meetings. Then we were off to Berkeley to see Flight of the Conchords. I’d never been to the Greek Theatre before–it’s an open air ampitheatre that seats 8000 people and all 8000 were there. Many people showed up late (knowing that the actual concert would start significantly later than it was supposed to), and managed to be surprised that they couldn’t find seats on the stone concrete steppes. (The women in heels must have had a really hard time.) Arj and Eugene (two comics who appear on the show) opened. Eugene is hilarious.

The Conchords made us smile and laugh so much that our faces still hurt. In addition to all the old favorites, they played three new songs, including a lovely medieval number about wooing a lady that I desperately need a copy of now.

Denise then came up with the fantastic idea of pancakes, so we hit the local IHOP before hitting the sheets.

Today we’re about to have Thai Chicken Soup before we go gather jelly beans. Then we’re off to sushi with Matt, Melissa, and Jo.

Of course, it hasn’t all been a joy–we haven’t managed to sleep enough, my new can opener doesn’t work, not all of our loved ones could be with us, and I feel incredibly guilty that I said Brian To in the acknowledgments of the book when I meant to say Brian Wu (incredibly–I would say excessively, except that this guilt is too justified to be called excessive).

It’s been an interesting year–book group decided that this year needed to be better than the last one back in January, but it hasn’t exactly been going that way for most of us. I hit a really low spot a few months ago. Thank you to everyone who put up with me and who supported me. And thank you to the universe for friends and food and teacher award nominations and kind write ups and book events and best friends and brilliant children.