The renamed Venetian Theatre was where Phantom - The Las Vegas Spectacular performed for six years. The centerpiece chandelier, which fell during every performance, is now permanently locked into the ceiling, its computer programming long since disconnected. It's not the first thing I noticed in the somber, gothic-themed, weighted-with-ghosts theater at 11:40 last Saturday morning, but the reminder was there when I looked up at it, along with the knowledge that preeminent Broadway director Hal Prince stood in this theater many times.
The theater had been remodeled since the show closed, with more seats extending to the stage, which I don't think could have been done before. The music of the night needed more room.
I wondered where the Phantom was now, what he was doing now. After the show closed, Anthony Crivello, our Phantom, went back to Broadway to audition, and I think he landed in one show. Maybe he's still in that show or maybe that show closed too. Nevertheless, he was a great supporter of Las Vegas like former Playboy Playmate Holly Madison, even gamely appearing on Wheel of Fortune during those Phantom years, whenever it was in Las Vegas for a few weeks.
Tim McGraw and Faith Hill's Soul2Soul is there now for a little while longer. Then they'll leave and be replaced with Priscilla Queen of the Desert. I don't know if the balcony seating on both sides of the theater is still used (I couldn't see the seats up there, if there were any), but with those offerings, I don't think they need to. There had been some buzz about Soul2Soul before it started, naturally. But it doesn't sound like it was a major hit. McGraw and Hill don't live here, instead flying in when it's time to perform on weekends, and that's understandable because they have other business in their careers to attend to.
I think if the box office take had been monstrous, Venetian officials would have tried to entice them with everything they could have ever wanted to stay longer. And guaranteed, Vegas Deluxe (www.vegasdeluxe.com), led by Robin Leach, would have had all the details of those negotiations. But there's nothing. As it is, the only big thing besides the impending remodel of the outside of New York-New York to build a park modeled on Madison Square Park, with shops and restaurants and a Hershey store, connecting it and the Monte Carlo and to an eventual 20,000-seat sports stadium, is that Olivia Newton-John will begin her mini-residency at the Flamingo possibly at the start of summer, performing when Donny & Marie aren't.
It's said that Tim McGraw wants to go back out on tour, and that's reasonable, but I don't think this show is going to come back. There's no word on what will follow the limited run of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, though that box office take will likely determine if they extend it, but I think they need something fresh, what with the Strip beginning to change in various places, such as the old Sahara becoming SLS Las Vegas next year, and an Asian-themed resort called Resorts World Las Vegas under construction for a 2016 opening.
But at that moment, at 11:40 in the morning, I'm sitting in a mostly empty row, across from an exit, next to Meridith, Dad and Mom. We're part of the audience for auditions for Wheel of Fortune. We filled out the small yellow applications outside the theater, while waiting in line, and dropped them in the tall box outside the theater. As we learn from the Jim Carrey-influenced, pop culture-loving host, whose name I've long forgotten, the applications are placed in a wire mesh drum and spun around and around, with applications chosen at random. Those names called go on stage, first backstage to sign in and have their photo taken. Then they stand on one of the five X's placed diagonally. The host interviews them, asking about their jobs, their hobbies, their passions, and it's there that they must be at their most enthusiastic, their most charismatic because that's what they're looking for in future contestants. Those contestants on stage would find out in two months either by a letter in the mail or by e-mail that they've been invited to the final auditions in Las Vegas. If they make it through those, they're on the show. Factoring in 6 weeks of shows being taped in July and August, which is five shows in a week (taped in one day, of course, which means the production will be here for six days), that's 30 shows. Three contestants per show is 90 contestants total. The odds are long, but we are in Las Vegas. We still hope.
Then the host spins the wheel on stage to determine what prize all the contestants will get (t-shirt, hat, mini-pack with a black shoulder strap and a keychain and "blinky pin," as the host called it, inside; or a "Surprise" that includes all those prizes and either a duffel bag or a smaller cooler bag), and then the contestants play the Speed-Up Round, which is the round when time's running out on the show and Pat Sajak gives the wheel a final spin, led by Morgan Matthews, who fills the Vanna White role for the Wheelmobile events.
The first show began and the host introduced himself and explained all this, and then introduced Morgan Matthews, who spun the drum and took out the first five applications, handing each to the host as she went along. I was surprised when Dad was called to the stage, and then I was called right after him, causing the host to comment, "A double shot of Aronskys!"
Originally, I didn't want to audition. When Mom heard about the Wheelmobile coming to the Venetian, Meridith immediately wanted to, and then Dad did too. I didn't, because while I'm not a stiff personality, I'm not that charismatic or demonstrative. I can get lively in conversation, but usually with one other person or a small group of people. It was Dad and Meridith's thing, not mine.
But then, I went to see Jeff Bridges, one of my heroes, in concert on Friday night at the Chrome Showroom at Santa Fe Station. Front row seat. Well worth the price ($88.50 via Ticketmaster, immediately when tickets went on sale), and my seat was right where Jeff Bridges stood while he played his guitars and sang, and directly in front of the keyboard on which he performed a few songs, including two from The Big Lebowski. When he played that keyboard and sang, he loomed over me at that angle and I watched him the entire time, his eyes closed throughout most of the songs he sang at that keyboard. I was in awe of the clear passion he had for his music, and on the way home, thinking about all that Jeff Bridges does in taking photos on the sets of his movies, drawing, writing his first book with Bernie Glassman, his Zen master, working to eliminate childhood hunger, attending Zen conventions, making movies of course, and now music, I thought to myself that I wanted to be a renaissance man at 63 years old like he is. But then I thought, "Why not start now?" I decided in the car that I would sign up for the chance to audition for Wheel of Fortune, but not for the purpose of becoming a renaissance man like Jeff Bridges. Mom has been watching Wheel of Fortune since Chuck Woolery hosted from 1975 to 1981. I wanted to increase our chances of getting tickets for at least one of the tapings, besides fighting like hell to get them when they become available in June, so why not increase them three-fold?
When I dashed down the steps to the stage after my name was called, following Dad as he did the same, I felt like I wasn't in my body. Was this real? Was this actually happening? I thought Meridith would be called first. She wanted it the most. But there I was, reaching the stage after figuring out how to get there, since there was a curtain in front of me that I thought led backstage (I didn't go behind it, though), and then three stairs immediately leading to the stage. I took the latter and was led backstage to a long table to sign in and then one of the production assistants, wearing a shirt that said "Spin This.", took a photo of me. Before that, I joked, "This is better than the DMV!"
I took my place on stage, the last "X", closest to the audience. I waited as the first three contestants were interviewed by the host, and then Dad, and I was a little nervous. But once called upon by the host, I went up there, told him and the audience that I'm a substitute elementary school library assistant in the Clark County School District, hoping for a full-time position. He asked me what I like to do, and I said, "Reading, writing, movies, pinball, presidential history and....more movies." (I think I got it all, because that comprises my life.) He zeroed in on presidential history, asking me who my favorite president is. "43 presidents and you want to know right now who my favorite president is?" I joked to him. In hindsight, I know there are 44, but I blanked by one.
I quickly thought about it and said "William Howard Taft," mainly because I'm reading about him right now and he does fascinate me. The host asked why and I said, "Because he didn't want to be president. He wanted to be Chief Justice of the United States and later on, he got his dream when Warren G. Harding nominated him and..." I'm not the lecturing type, but maybe I was still a little nervous because the host sensed I was going on too long and amiably moved me along with, "He really knows his presidents." I didn't mind that he moved me along since he had a show to run. I wished I could have compressed Taft's history fast enough, including the fact that he ran for president because his wife, Helen "Nellie" Taft, wanted to be First Lady, and he was devoted to her. I knew I couldn't include the fact that Taft was responsible for the Supreme Court building as we know it today, wanting a separate, grand building for this separate branch of the government, but he died before it was completed. That would have been impossible, but I wanted to get to Harding nominating Taft to be Chief Justice. Nervousness overpowers all, though, even when you don't actually feel nervous while on stage.
The puzzle began. The category was "Event." I think I guessed "L" or "M," but neither were in the puzzle. I knew what it was about a minute later, but the host was back to the beginning of the row and the fourth person before me in the row solved it: "Toga Party." As the host put it, just because you're on stage does not guarantee you a final audition, and just because you solved the puzzle does not guarantee you a final audition. They're looking for the whole package, with charisma, energy, and puzzle-solving ability all together, which flummoxed Mom after we had left the Venetian later in the day because all the time that she's watched the show, most of those people seem very subdued, so she doesn't know exactly what they're looking for if they seem all the same.
After leaving the stage, I went back up to our row, and we watched the rest of the first show. By the end, Meridith still hadn't been called up, so we went back to the elevator, downstairs (Mom uses a cane, so we don't use stairs), and got back in line for the second show where Meridith filled out a blue application and put it in the tall box outside the theater. We went back to the elevator, back to the second (or third?) floor, back to our row. Second show, no luck.
We got back in line for the third and final show of the day and Meridith filled out another application, a different color. And no luck again. After the final names for the second show were called, we got up and left the theater to get back in line before everyone else not called did the same thing. And after the final names were called for the third show, we left. What reason was there to sit for the rest of that show? Mom gave Meridith the option of going back on Sunday for those shows, for the hope of being called, but Meridith said she has three chances with those three applications, so that was enough for her. The host also said that those who aren't called on the stage still have a shot. During each show, he said he's going to take the remaining applications with him back to Los Angeles, pick a few at random, and those chosen will get the letter or e-mail inviting them to the final auditions. Meridith filled out each application differently, with her interests worded differently in each, with different drawings on the border of the applications. You have to stand out somehow to hopefully catch their attention.
There were a few people I saw during all three shows that I would happily give up my spot for in order to see them on the show. They need to be on the show. Based on what Mom said about people on the show seeming subdued, I may have a better chance than I think I do.
And the phantoms remain in the Venetian Theatre. The ghosts of Phantom of the Opera and soon Soul2Soul and future productions that will arrive and then leave either months or years later. Things always change in this city. But one thing that will never change is my happiness at the opportunity for free events that let me see places for which I would have to pay exorbitant amounts. This was the best way to save 80 bucks or more to see the Venetian Theatre. And the main feature on the stage is a "C" with its rear in the air and the arms of the C on the stage, lit in blue. That looks like the centerpiece for the Soul2Soul show, the one thing that couldn't be removed from the stage since it looks like it's attached to it, that is if Tim McGraw and Faith Hill use anything else besides that. Stools, of course, but I think that's it. For me, it's enough to have seen this theater, the only time I ever will like this, just like when we waited along with the rest of the crowd in the 1 OAK Nightclub in early March at the Mirage before we were all dispatched to the Beatles LOVE theater for the live broadcast of American Idol. If I make it to the final audition and then am invited to be on Wheel of Fortune, I'll do it. It means Mom would get to see the show live, and that's the only reason for me.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
My Book Reviews
Only a week and a half? I thought it was longer since I last wrote a post here. In that time, I've been a substitute elementary school library assistant at two schools, gathered many books for research for my first novel while also figuring out who I need to talk to for insight into RVs and pinball (the average owner of the particular RV I'm looking to use in this novel will do, but for the pinball aspect, I want to find the creators of the particular pinball machine that's my inspiration for the one I'm going to create), and I've written my seventh book review for Boekie's Book Reviews, which will be posted soon. It's for How My Summer Went Up in Flames by Jennifer Salvato Doktorski, a first-time Young Adult novelist, and while I'm still not entirely comfortable in book reviewing yet, I think I'm getting there. It's not a question of if I want to do it. I really do. In fact, one day, I'd like to write reviews for more outlets. This is my way of thinking about the kind of reviewer I want to be, how I want to write them, because to me, at least, while it is a review, like the movie and DVD reviews I used to write all the time and now only write occasionally (DVD reviews all), there's a different language to book reviews, picking out style, an author's interest in what they write, how compelling the characters are, a lot that I never thought about at length before. Yes, I've been reading since I was 2, but I never thought about it like I am now, although it must have lodged in my brain because at times, it's easy to understand an author's style, or how approachable their writing is. I don't expect every single novel I review to be easy to get into from the start, but I mean like how there's a gauzy curtain between us and the story in Fifteenth Summer by Michelle Dalton, how she doesn't let us into this summer, let us feel the vacation going on in the lakeside town of Bluepointe, Michigan.
I worry about how much to explain. Not to the extent that I'd spoil the rest of the book for readers, but is it enough to just mention that gauzy curtain feeling and maybe the reader will see it if they decide to read it? I'm not sure yet. And even though I've provided examples and snippets of dialogue in some of my reviews, I'm still not sure what the right balance is for that. I'm thinking it's on a review-by-review basis, that you know when you read a novel and you're forming what you should say, and you can pick out what makes you want more from a particular author, or what bothers you. I'm easy, though. Even if a novel is a slog to get through, I don't get mad at it, or unduly angry. I express my disappointment at the unnecessarily slow pace of the story (a slow pace is fine if the author keeps building the story, but not in continually repeating the same actions because they can't think of anything else to write), and I move on. There are more books to read. My room is proof of that.
I'd like to write reviews for Publishers Weekly or BookPage or Booklist or even Amazon if possible. Maybe Costco Connection, but I hear that those reviews are handled by their in-house buyers. Nevertheless, I'd like to try. Yet I know right now that I'm not good enough to go to those publications and tell them how much I'd be valuable to them as a reviewer. I need to rack up more reviews, to try to feel as free as I did in some of my DVD reviews, to have more fun with my writing.
I belong to books. That's how it's always been. Yet now, here I am on the other side as a reviewer, which is a great place to be because of the novels I get to read early, much earlier than the DVDs I review(ed). I'm slightly disappointed that I've entered book reviewing at a time when print copies might not be as readily sent as they used to be. All the books I've reviewed have been .pdf files graciously converted for me by Vanessa, the owner of Boekie's Book Reviews, because I will not, and will never, buy a Kindle. I like my book in print, thank you. But for reviewing, this is wonderfully convenient because I can have the .pdf file open, as well as a Notepad file to type notes or copy-and-paste descriptions and dialogue while I'm reading, which I might want to reference in a review. Sometimes I copy and paste just for the pleasure of having those well-written descriptions, not at all intending to use them in a review, but that pleasure does seep into the review, so that works for me.
So here are the reviews I've written so far, in order from my first (That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard) to the one before my most recent (Vengeance Bound by Justine Ireland, the first disappointing novel I reviewed). I'm enjoying this not only because I get to write about these books, but also because I don't have to work with any publicists like I sometimes did when I wrote movie and DVD reviews. Vanessa sends me the books by e-mail, as .pdf attachments, I download them, read them, review them (one by one, of course), and send the reviews to her. Then I get another batch. It's been a little slowgoing lately since she's also an aspiring YA novelist who recently released a short story online, and is self-publishing her first novel in July, but I like the pace. After all, I've got my own books to write. Even so, this feels a lot more easygoing for me, and outside of the worry about what my own style will be as a book reviewer, I'm enjoying it:
That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard
Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
The Wanderer by Robyn Carr
Fifteenth Summer by Michelle Dalton
Criminal by Terra Elan McVoy
Vengeance Bound by Justine Ireland
Out of all these reviews, Fifteenth Summer was the easiest to write, and also the shortest read. 272 pages might not seem like that, but being a speed reader, I blazed through it in a day and was glad to see it improved toward the end. I actually wasn't disappointed that it wasn't like that all the way through, because I liked Chelsea and her supportive, whole family, which is usually rare to see in Young Adult novels.
Now on to the next reviews, and to becoming more experienced at this.
Next-Day Update: My latest review was posted today.
I worry about how much to explain. Not to the extent that I'd spoil the rest of the book for readers, but is it enough to just mention that gauzy curtain feeling and maybe the reader will see it if they decide to read it? I'm not sure yet. And even though I've provided examples and snippets of dialogue in some of my reviews, I'm still not sure what the right balance is for that. I'm thinking it's on a review-by-review basis, that you know when you read a novel and you're forming what you should say, and you can pick out what makes you want more from a particular author, or what bothers you. I'm easy, though. Even if a novel is a slog to get through, I don't get mad at it, or unduly angry. I express my disappointment at the unnecessarily slow pace of the story (a slow pace is fine if the author keeps building the story, but not in continually repeating the same actions because they can't think of anything else to write), and I move on. There are more books to read. My room is proof of that.
I'd like to write reviews for Publishers Weekly or BookPage or Booklist or even Amazon if possible. Maybe Costco Connection, but I hear that those reviews are handled by their in-house buyers. Nevertheless, I'd like to try. Yet I know right now that I'm not good enough to go to those publications and tell them how much I'd be valuable to them as a reviewer. I need to rack up more reviews, to try to feel as free as I did in some of my DVD reviews, to have more fun with my writing.
I belong to books. That's how it's always been. Yet now, here I am on the other side as a reviewer, which is a great place to be because of the novels I get to read early, much earlier than the DVDs I review(ed). I'm slightly disappointed that I've entered book reviewing at a time when print copies might not be as readily sent as they used to be. All the books I've reviewed have been .pdf files graciously converted for me by Vanessa, the owner of Boekie's Book Reviews, because I will not, and will never, buy a Kindle. I like my book in print, thank you. But for reviewing, this is wonderfully convenient because I can have the .pdf file open, as well as a Notepad file to type notes or copy-and-paste descriptions and dialogue while I'm reading, which I might want to reference in a review. Sometimes I copy and paste just for the pleasure of having those well-written descriptions, not at all intending to use them in a review, but that pleasure does seep into the review, so that works for me.
So here are the reviews I've written so far, in order from my first (That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard) to the one before my most recent (Vengeance Bound by Justine Ireland, the first disappointing novel I reviewed). I'm enjoying this not only because I get to write about these books, but also because I don't have to work with any publicists like I sometimes did when I wrote movie and DVD reviews. Vanessa sends me the books by e-mail, as .pdf attachments, I download them, read them, review them (one by one, of course), and send the reviews to her. Then I get another batch. It's been a little slowgoing lately since she's also an aspiring YA novelist who recently released a short story online, and is self-publishing her first novel in July, but I like the pace. After all, I've got my own books to write. Even so, this feels a lot more easygoing for me, and outside of the worry about what my own style will be as a book reviewer, I'm enjoying it:
That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard
Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
The Wanderer by Robyn Carr
Fifteenth Summer by Michelle Dalton
Criminal by Terra Elan McVoy
Vengeance Bound by Justine Ireland
Out of all these reviews, Fifteenth Summer was the easiest to write, and also the shortest read. 272 pages might not seem like that, but being a speed reader, I blazed through it in a day and was glad to see it improved toward the end. I actually wasn't disappointed that it wasn't like that all the way through, because I liked Chelsea and her supportive, whole family, which is usually rare to see in Young Adult novels.
Now on to the next reviews, and to becoming more experienced at this.
Next-Day Update: My latest review was posted today.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Sometimes a Neighborhood of Grace
While I do feel that I'm finally home here in Nevada and particularly in Las Vegas and Henderson and Boulder City, I sometimes forget what it is that makes me feel at home. It's not anything that I believe that causes it, but rather what happens around me.
Last weekend, during the day, the house to our left exploded in argument, and since we're so close to it, we could hear everything that was being said. There was shouting inside, and someone stormed out, got in the truck in that driveway, and started the engine, then gunned it out of there. And then diagonally from us, there's a house that routinely erupts in fights, usually between the eldest adult son of the household (that is if there are any more children than just him, which I'm not sure about, and I don't ever want to make sure) and his girlfriend. A few weeks ago, it happened right outside and I could hear the whole thing from my window. Of course I listened from on my bed, where I was reading. I'm a writer, after all. But I don't like any of this. This mobile home park isn't necessarily so bad on this side all the time. I hear stories about drug dealing going on on the far opposite end, and the occasional squatter, and conflicts elsewhere in the park. At least it doesn't happen every day, but it's still jarring when it does. You startle, and then you settle. Just another day in the neighborhood, hopefully far removed from the previous day that it happens.
Las Vegas is a jittery city. It's the 24-hour lifestyle. Anything can happen at any hour of the day. There are separate blocks of time for different people. For example, my street is populated with those who have day jobs. They're sleeping right now and they'll get up in a few hours, do what they need to in order to face the day, and then go to work. The middle of the mobile home park are where those who leave for work at 2, 3 in the morning, live because there's not much of a risk of waking anybody up, being that those houses on each side face the pool area, the playground, and the basketball court.
And yet, there is balance. Sometimes the scales are tipped in favor of anger and shouting and recriminations, but eventually, there is grace. Not always from the people, but at least from the pets. The cats. The dogs.
At night, the cats on my street walk from one end to the other, uninterrupted, unruffled. They're used to whatever they've seen in their lives. But I feel sorry for some of the dogs. Not in Southern California, and not in Florida, did I ever see dogs simply walk away from wherever they live, probably needing a break. Many of the dogs in my street are mostly outside, behind tall gates or behind smaller, squat gates placed at the top of front-door stairs so they can't get out. But some do.
For example, yesterday afternoon, when I was walking Tigger, a small, furry, off-white dog walked from wherever he lived, a perpetual grin on his face. Maybe he had done this before. I didn't know who he belonged to, and especially where those people were. Wouldn't they notice that their dog was missing? Probably not. It's just that kind of neighborhood. He came closer to Tigger and I and I knew I had to pick up Tigger because I didn't want to deal with these neighbors beyond their dogs, whoever these neighbors were.
The dog simply looked at me, smiling. Was it a smile of relief at being away from whoever he lived with, or just at seeing someone new? I don't know. However, he looked like he knew where he lived, and there's not much of a chance of strays here. None can get in with the front gates and walls there are around the property. The dogs and cats here do belong to those who live here.
I didn't feel so much worry for the dog. Mild concern that it had gotten out, but understanding that some people aren't fit to own dogs, and maybe his owner wasn't. Some people may like dogs, but they don't know how to take care of them or care enough to take care of them.
I liked the look on the dog's face, contentment that you don't see often in Las Vegas. That's not to say there isn't pleasure, but you won't see many of my kind in a casino. I walk around, feeling completely at home, despite the cigarette smoke, depending on what casino we're at. For example, at the Rio a few nights ago, I looked down at the banks of slot machines from the second floor and yet again couldn't believe that I'm a resident here. To me, it's a waking dream all the time. But most want to win. They think a casino is a bank and they can withdraw money accordingly. Faces furrowed in concentration, hoping that the slot machines hit that magic combination, that the cards at the blackjack table are the ones they wanted when they got here. I'm fine with it because that's our economy. I must be the exception and also persona non grata to the casinos because I don't gamble as much as I did when I was a tourist and certainly not as much as I did in our first few months as residents, which is to say not much anyway, but I still put in a dollar or two or more. Now, unless it's free play given occasionally because of having a casino club card, depending on the casino, I usually have a book with me, and I read while Mom, Dad and Meridith are at the slot machines. I'd rather save my money for books and other important things. (That reminds me that not only do I have to deposit the check I received yesterday from the school district for the day I was a substitute library aide at Dean Petersen Elementary three weeks ago, but I also have to withdraw $10 to give to Mom for the newspaper fund we all contribute to in order to keep up our subscription to the Review-Journal. $10 monthly to cover the months already in progress and to have a little extra to renew the subscription when it comes time.)
I know people are having fun in their own ways and that's all I expect from those who visit. But I mean pure contentment, not that mixed with intense concentration, hoping to break a casino for all they're worth. It's interesting to me that the first time I really saw it was on the face of that dog. Maybe the dog has an inkling that he's in Las Vegas, but his Las Vegas surely isn't as detailed as my Las Vegas, and that's probably better for him. There's already enough troubles in this city to wade through and choose what matters to you and discard what doesn't, not out of heartlessness, but survival. I don't mean to say that Las Vegas is a dangerous expanse of rogues and slot machines, but, you know, it can be strange at times. Sometimes a good strange, sometimes the concerned strange such as in my neighborhood. It's not necessarily all over this valley, though. You just do what you can, and find where you feel you belong, and make good on that. In Santa Clarita, I used to be so frustrated with everything that was so awful about that valley, and it was, what with there being absolutely nothing to do, and you could try to find things to do but they soon ran out. In Las Vegas, you learn to let things go. If not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then some other time. Of course, that doesn't apply to the rent and your job, but to mostly everything else, it does.
And then, before American Idol began, Mom told me that she killed a snakelike bug in her bathroom that was silver. I knew exactly that it was a Silverfish, the third most common Nevada pest. I hate hearing about these things, and Mom said that I would have to spray for bugs again. I thought about waiting until later today to do it, but it's been warmer than usual this past week, and it's obviously cooler at night, so what better time? I took the Raid Max Bug Barrier spray out of the cabinet below the kitchen sink and went outside. I sprayed around the back door, then went down the three steps, opened the gate to our rock-and-pebble-laden backyard and sprayed around the house, including around Mom's bathroom window, hoping that this would do it. I circled the entire house and suddenly, a dog approached me, a shaggy dog at that. Unlike the dog from earlier in the day, I didn't have a clue about who this one belonged to. I guessed one of the houses further up the street, toward the front gate, and it was apparent that this dog needed a break. It was friendly as can be, and went up on the section of rocks under my window and Meridith's window and peed a few times. It trotted off and then I went back to the back door area, planning to go back through the gate to look at the high-up electrical wires a couple yards away, from the backyard, but then I looked down and the dog was right next to me. I couldn't go back inside because I didn't want it to follow me. I didn't shoo it away, because I'm a dog lover and I don't do that. But what could I do? What did this dog want? I gently told it to go home and it trotted away, to the front of the empty lot to our right, and that seemed to be it.
Two dogs approaching me in one day. Am I well known among dogs in this neighborhood and I just don't know it? Do they somehow know about Tigger and Kitty and how well I take care of them when they walk them and they want to meet me or something? I've walked the rows of my mobile home park before, and whenever a dog barks at me behind a screen door or behind one of those screened gates at the top of the stairs, I always say hello to it or them. I figure it wants to talk for a bit, so why not? It may be suspicious of me, but perhaps curious too since it probably doesn't see many other people. But I never saw those two dogs before. Well, maybe the white one. I think that may be the dog of the neighbor directly across from us, kept behind that looming gate in the back. They don't seem like the sort who let the dog in all that often. So maybe that's why the dog took to me: A friendlier face and one not likely to be so stern about where they belong. But since we have Tigger and Kitty, I can't do very much for those dogs anyway. Not that I'd want to anyway because everyone's business here is their own. I do feel sorry for those dogs, though, if they got out because they needed a break from where they live. Obviously they're back in wherever they came from because when I walked Tigger and Kitty over two hours ago, I didn't see them around, and I'm sure they would have gravitated to me yet again had they still been out. Could have been the warm weather, though. With how bothersome it's been this week without the cool of Spring, it wouldn't have surprised me if those dogs got out because they needed to move around, needed to feel some air as they trotted about. It's halfway stifling if you're sitting in one place.
So at least there are the dogs, a balance provided after those overheard arguments. There are bad situations in Las Vegas, yes, but there aren't only bad situations. Not that I thought there were only those, what with the creativity that this city has inspired me to want to achieve in my work, but sometimes a gentle reminder is necessary of grace existing where it doesn't seem possible. And yet, in some cases, the further you get from Las Vegas, the more easygoing people are. I think of our new apartment complex in Henderson where we'll be moving in Henderson, that interpretation of a wispy, whispery forest with all those thin trees. I think of Boulder City where people are happy because they're living the lives they want to live, pursuing the passions that wake them up every day, and finding their ideas of peace. But then, it's the same of any major city. I disliked every minute I was in Santa Clarita, but it was quieter than it would have been living in Los Angeles. It's said that the closer you live to the Strip, the higher your insurance rates are. When we move to Henderson in September, the car insurance rate and the renters insurance rate will drop because we'll be further from the Strip, but it'll be no less accessible to us. One thing I really like about Henderson right away is that we'll be closer to Boulder City than we are here. Closer to home for me.
A few minutes ago, during that previous paragraph, I heard sirens outside our neighborhood, sirens that echo in our immediate area, stretching from the Rebel gas station at the intersection, to Sam's Town. Police sirens or ambulance sirens or both, it doesn't rattle me. It happens every night. It's balance. Bad with the good. I don't know if I'll see those dogs again tomorrow, but they are a cheerful reminder that this isn't so bad. And what makes it unpleasant won't be of concern much longer anyway. I wish I could take those dogs in because they obviously deserve better homes, but just like this mobile home park, there's a two-dog policy at our new apartment complex. I hope for the best for those two dogs, and I also hope that the dogs I'll see in Henderson are better taken care of than what seems to be the case here. For some. Not all.
Last weekend, during the day, the house to our left exploded in argument, and since we're so close to it, we could hear everything that was being said. There was shouting inside, and someone stormed out, got in the truck in that driveway, and started the engine, then gunned it out of there. And then diagonally from us, there's a house that routinely erupts in fights, usually between the eldest adult son of the household (that is if there are any more children than just him, which I'm not sure about, and I don't ever want to make sure) and his girlfriend. A few weeks ago, it happened right outside and I could hear the whole thing from my window. Of course I listened from on my bed, where I was reading. I'm a writer, after all. But I don't like any of this. This mobile home park isn't necessarily so bad on this side all the time. I hear stories about drug dealing going on on the far opposite end, and the occasional squatter, and conflicts elsewhere in the park. At least it doesn't happen every day, but it's still jarring when it does. You startle, and then you settle. Just another day in the neighborhood, hopefully far removed from the previous day that it happens.
Las Vegas is a jittery city. It's the 24-hour lifestyle. Anything can happen at any hour of the day. There are separate blocks of time for different people. For example, my street is populated with those who have day jobs. They're sleeping right now and they'll get up in a few hours, do what they need to in order to face the day, and then go to work. The middle of the mobile home park are where those who leave for work at 2, 3 in the morning, live because there's not much of a risk of waking anybody up, being that those houses on each side face the pool area, the playground, and the basketball court.
And yet, there is balance. Sometimes the scales are tipped in favor of anger and shouting and recriminations, but eventually, there is grace. Not always from the people, but at least from the pets. The cats. The dogs.
At night, the cats on my street walk from one end to the other, uninterrupted, unruffled. They're used to whatever they've seen in their lives. But I feel sorry for some of the dogs. Not in Southern California, and not in Florida, did I ever see dogs simply walk away from wherever they live, probably needing a break. Many of the dogs in my street are mostly outside, behind tall gates or behind smaller, squat gates placed at the top of front-door stairs so they can't get out. But some do.
For example, yesterday afternoon, when I was walking Tigger, a small, furry, off-white dog walked from wherever he lived, a perpetual grin on his face. Maybe he had done this before. I didn't know who he belonged to, and especially where those people were. Wouldn't they notice that their dog was missing? Probably not. It's just that kind of neighborhood. He came closer to Tigger and I and I knew I had to pick up Tigger because I didn't want to deal with these neighbors beyond their dogs, whoever these neighbors were.
The dog simply looked at me, smiling. Was it a smile of relief at being away from whoever he lived with, or just at seeing someone new? I don't know. However, he looked like he knew where he lived, and there's not much of a chance of strays here. None can get in with the front gates and walls there are around the property. The dogs and cats here do belong to those who live here.
I didn't feel so much worry for the dog. Mild concern that it had gotten out, but understanding that some people aren't fit to own dogs, and maybe his owner wasn't. Some people may like dogs, but they don't know how to take care of them or care enough to take care of them.
I liked the look on the dog's face, contentment that you don't see often in Las Vegas. That's not to say there isn't pleasure, but you won't see many of my kind in a casino. I walk around, feeling completely at home, despite the cigarette smoke, depending on what casino we're at. For example, at the Rio a few nights ago, I looked down at the banks of slot machines from the second floor and yet again couldn't believe that I'm a resident here. To me, it's a waking dream all the time. But most want to win. They think a casino is a bank and they can withdraw money accordingly. Faces furrowed in concentration, hoping that the slot machines hit that magic combination, that the cards at the blackjack table are the ones they wanted when they got here. I'm fine with it because that's our economy. I must be the exception and also persona non grata to the casinos because I don't gamble as much as I did when I was a tourist and certainly not as much as I did in our first few months as residents, which is to say not much anyway, but I still put in a dollar or two or more. Now, unless it's free play given occasionally because of having a casino club card, depending on the casino, I usually have a book with me, and I read while Mom, Dad and Meridith are at the slot machines. I'd rather save my money for books and other important things. (That reminds me that not only do I have to deposit the check I received yesterday from the school district for the day I was a substitute library aide at Dean Petersen Elementary three weeks ago, but I also have to withdraw $10 to give to Mom for the newspaper fund we all contribute to in order to keep up our subscription to the Review-Journal. $10 monthly to cover the months already in progress and to have a little extra to renew the subscription when it comes time.)
I know people are having fun in their own ways and that's all I expect from those who visit. But I mean pure contentment, not that mixed with intense concentration, hoping to break a casino for all they're worth. It's interesting to me that the first time I really saw it was on the face of that dog. Maybe the dog has an inkling that he's in Las Vegas, but his Las Vegas surely isn't as detailed as my Las Vegas, and that's probably better for him. There's already enough troubles in this city to wade through and choose what matters to you and discard what doesn't, not out of heartlessness, but survival. I don't mean to say that Las Vegas is a dangerous expanse of rogues and slot machines, but, you know, it can be strange at times. Sometimes a good strange, sometimes the concerned strange such as in my neighborhood. It's not necessarily all over this valley, though. You just do what you can, and find where you feel you belong, and make good on that. In Santa Clarita, I used to be so frustrated with everything that was so awful about that valley, and it was, what with there being absolutely nothing to do, and you could try to find things to do but they soon ran out. In Las Vegas, you learn to let things go. If not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then some other time. Of course, that doesn't apply to the rent and your job, but to mostly everything else, it does.
And then, before American Idol began, Mom told me that she killed a snakelike bug in her bathroom that was silver. I knew exactly that it was a Silverfish, the third most common Nevada pest. I hate hearing about these things, and Mom said that I would have to spray for bugs again. I thought about waiting until later today to do it, but it's been warmer than usual this past week, and it's obviously cooler at night, so what better time? I took the Raid Max Bug Barrier spray out of the cabinet below the kitchen sink and went outside. I sprayed around the back door, then went down the three steps, opened the gate to our rock-and-pebble-laden backyard and sprayed around the house, including around Mom's bathroom window, hoping that this would do it. I circled the entire house and suddenly, a dog approached me, a shaggy dog at that. Unlike the dog from earlier in the day, I didn't have a clue about who this one belonged to. I guessed one of the houses further up the street, toward the front gate, and it was apparent that this dog needed a break. It was friendly as can be, and went up on the section of rocks under my window and Meridith's window and peed a few times. It trotted off and then I went back to the back door area, planning to go back through the gate to look at the high-up electrical wires a couple yards away, from the backyard, but then I looked down and the dog was right next to me. I couldn't go back inside because I didn't want it to follow me. I didn't shoo it away, because I'm a dog lover and I don't do that. But what could I do? What did this dog want? I gently told it to go home and it trotted away, to the front of the empty lot to our right, and that seemed to be it.
Two dogs approaching me in one day. Am I well known among dogs in this neighborhood and I just don't know it? Do they somehow know about Tigger and Kitty and how well I take care of them when they walk them and they want to meet me or something? I've walked the rows of my mobile home park before, and whenever a dog barks at me behind a screen door or behind one of those screened gates at the top of the stairs, I always say hello to it or them. I figure it wants to talk for a bit, so why not? It may be suspicious of me, but perhaps curious too since it probably doesn't see many other people. But I never saw those two dogs before. Well, maybe the white one. I think that may be the dog of the neighbor directly across from us, kept behind that looming gate in the back. They don't seem like the sort who let the dog in all that often. So maybe that's why the dog took to me: A friendlier face and one not likely to be so stern about where they belong. But since we have Tigger and Kitty, I can't do very much for those dogs anyway. Not that I'd want to anyway because everyone's business here is their own. I do feel sorry for those dogs, though, if they got out because they needed a break from where they live. Obviously they're back in wherever they came from because when I walked Tigger and Kitty over two hours ago, I didn't see them around, and I'm sure they would have gravitated to me yet again had they still been out. Could have been the warm weather, though. With how bothersome it's been this week without the cool of Spring, it wouldn't have surprised me if those dogs got out because they needed to move around, needed to feel some air as they trotted about. It's halfway stifling if you're sitting in one place.
So at least there are the dogs, a balance provided after those overheard arguments. There are bad situations in Las Vegas, yes, but there aren't only bad situations. Not that I thought there were only those, what with the creativity that this city has inspired me to want to achieve in my work, but sometimes a gentle reminder is necessary of grace existing where it doesn't seem possible. And yet, in some cases, the further you get from Las Vegas, the more easygoing people are. I think of our new apartment complex in Henderson where we'll be moving in Henderson, that interpretation of a wispy, whispery forest with all those thin trees. I think of Boulder City where people are happy because they're living the lives they want to live, pursuing the passions that wake them up every day, and finding their ideas of peace. But then, it's the same of any major city. I disliked every minute I was in Santa Clarita, but it was quieter than it would have been living in Los Angeles. It's said that the closer you live to the Strip, the higher your insurance rates are. When we move to Henderson in September, the car insurance rate and the renters insurance rate will drop because we'll be further from the Strip, but it'll be no less accessible to us. One thing I really like about Henderson right away is that we'll be closer to Boulder City than we are here. Closer to home for me.
A few minutes ago, during that previous paragraph, I heard sirens outside our neighborhood, sirens that echo in our immediate area, stretching from the Rebel gas station at the intersection, to Sam's Town. Police sirens or ambulance sirens or both, it doesn't rattle me. It happens every night. It's balance. Bad with the good. I don't know if I'll see those dogs again tomorrow, but they are a cheerful reminder that this isn't so bad. And what makes it unpleasant won't be of concern much longer anyway. I wish I could take those dogs in because they obviously deserve better homes, but just like this mobile home park, there's a two-dog policy at our new apartment complex. I hope for the best for those two dogs, and I also hope that the dogs I'll see in Henderson are better taken care of than what seems to be the case here. For some. Not all.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
To See American Beauty or Not to See American Beauty?
Today at Century 18 at Sam's Town, American Beauty was playing at 2 and 7:30, part of Cinemark's Classic Series. I was thinking of going because even though I accidentally bought it twice over for my DVD collection (I couldn't cancel my Amazon order for Paramount's release of it on DVD by the time I found the original edition I used to have at the Goatfeathers Too antique shop in Boulder City), I hadn't seen it in a movie theater since 2000, and I wanted to see how it played to me at one now. But suppose, say, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory appears next month as part of the series. I'd much rather see that since I've never seen it in a movie theater.
But then, while walking Kitty before my family and I went out, before I was going to ask them to drop me off at Sam's Town, I met Nick, one of my neighbors down the street, on my side of the street. He was walking to his car parked next to the curb in front of his house and he asked me if I knew who was letting their dog crap on the empty lot next to his. Sometimes he crosses over to the lot to walk to his car and steps right in it and he hates that. I told him it wasn't me, showing the bag I have to pick up our dogs' business, but I knew what he was talking about because it annoys me, too. I sometimes walk Tigger and Kitty on those empty lots because of that space, because I can pick up more easily there, but then there's other dogs' efforts left behind.
I learned that he's a plumber who lives here, but is based in Southern California, convenient because the rest of his family lives in Los Angeles, in West Covina, in San Pedro, so whenever he has a job in L.A., he stays with them. Las Vegas is getting a new mega-resort called Resorts World Las Vegas that needs all kinds of construction people, including plumbers, and he's on the list. There's positions open for 400 plumbers, but 800 have signed up for the chance to be hired. He wants it because it would let him spend more time here. He still has the work in Southern California, so he's covered either way. He and his wife have lived here for eight years, his grandmother having bought that particular property 10-12 years ago, and they like it. His wife works at Vons, and it seems to be an easy existence. The work is there, family is there, and he likes his work. That's all you can really ask for in life and maintain total peace of mind, if not for the dog crap. He wants to find who's been doing it and plans to go to the owners of this mobile home park to tell them what's been going on, that things are not well-managed, that the front office expects everyone to pull weeds around their property, but doesn't do their part, with empty lots overgrown with weeds. Plus, if you're renting, it should be the park's responsibility to pull those weeds. That's what you'd think Maintenance is there for.
Nick had to get going and invited me over for a beer or wine some time, though I drink neither, but I'd be glad to talk with him some more some other time. After he left, I thought that yes, I could go see American Beauty, but I would only see the same people that I always see whenever I go to Sam's Town. Then the movie would be over and since Mom and Dad and Meridith would be out, I'd walk home since there's nothing else I can think of doing there. I decided instead that I'd watch American Beauty on DVD some time in the next few weeks. I wanted to go out into Las Vegas and see other people, especially the tourists here on spring break. I like them because they're pumping money into our local economy. Tourism is our main industry, and we need it.
It turns out that I chose well. On the way to the Walmart next to one of the taxiways and runways at McCarran, we drove past one of the runways seen clearly there, and as we were, a Virgin Atlantic Boeing 747-400 was landing. One of the things we did on my birthday was park at the McCarran observation lot so I could watch another Virgin Atlantic 747 land. It was incredible seeing it come in to land, but to see it land as we were driving by it? That was totally unexpected and in fact, I noticed across the way at the international terminal that there was no 747 there. And then suddenly, there it was behind us, next to us. The speed of driving makes it even more awe-inspiring.
Then came visits to the Flamingo and Ellis Island and the Tropicana. The Flamingo looks decrepit, and some of the fixtures there look like they've been there since it opened in 1946. Not worth visiting again.
The Tropicana was fine, but too much white decoration in walls and tile and furniture. They're going for a South Beach look in Florida, which is fine, but I can't stand there not being contrasts.
At Ellis Island, the first paragraph of what may be my first novel hit me, and I hurriedly typed it into my cell phone. I began research for it fully last night, and I'm excited about it, and interested to see where it goes. It combines so many of my interests, though the challenge here will be making my interest organic to my main character and not merely making him my mouthpiece. I like the first paragraph, but I have to play with the introduction of the narrator after the explanation that opens my novel.
And to think that if I had gone to see American Beauty, I would have missed out on all of this.
But then, while walking Kitty before my family and I went out, before I was going to ask them to drop me off at Sam's Town, I met Nick, one of my neighbors down the street, on my side of the street. He was walking to his car parked next to the curb in front of his house and he asked me if I knew who was letting their dog crap on the empty lot next to his. Sometimes he crosses over to the lot to walk to his car and steps right in it and he hates that. I told him it wasn't me, showing the bag I have to pick up our dogs' business, but I knew what he was talking about because it annoys me, too. I sometimes walk Tigger and Kitty on those empty lots because of that space, because I can pick up more easily there, but then there's other dogs' efforts left behind.
I learned that he's a plumber who lives here, but is based in Southern California, convenient because the rest of his family lives in Los Angeles, in West Covina, in San Pedro, so whenever he has a job in L.A., he stays with them. Las Vegas is getting a new mega-resort called Resorts World Las Vegas that needs all kinds of construction people, including plumbers, and he's on the list. There's positions open for 400 plumbers, but 800 have signed up for the chance to be hired. He wants it because it would let him spend more time here. He still has the work in Southern California, so he's covered either way. He and his wife have lived here for eight years, his grandmother having bought that particular property 10-12 years ago, and they like it. His wife works at Vons, and it seems to be an easy existence. The work is there, family is there, and he likes his work. That's all you can really ask for in life and maintain total peace of mind, if not for the dog crap. He wants to find who's been doing it and plans to go to the owners of this mobile home park to tell them what's been going on, that things are not well-managed, that the front office expects everyone to pull weeds around their property, but doesn't do their part, with empty lots overgrown with weeds. Plus, if you're renting, it should be the park's responsibility to pull those weeds. That's what you'd think Maintenance is there for.
Nick had to get going and invited me over for a beer or wine some time, though I drink neither, but I'd be glad to talk with him some more some other time. After he left, I thought that yes, I could go see American Beauty, but I would only see the same people that I always see whenever I go to Sam's Town. Then the movie would be over and since Mom and Dad and Meridith would be out, I'd walk home since there's nothing else I can think of doing there. I decided instead that I'd watch American Beauty on DVD some time in the next few weeks. I wanted to go out into Las Vegas and see other people, especially the tourists here on spring break. I like them because they're pumping money into our local economy. Tourism is our main industry, and we need it.
It turns out that I chose well. On the way to the Walmart next to one of the taxiways and runways at McCarran, we drove past one of the runways seen clearly there, and as we were, a Virgin Atlantic Boeing 747-400 was landing. One of the things we did on my birthday was park at the McCarran observation lot so I could watch another Virgin Atlantic 747 land. It was incredible seeing it come in to land, but to see it land as we were driving by it? That was totally unexpected and in fact, I noticed across the way at the international terminal that there was no 747 there. And then suddenly, there it was behind us, next to us. The speed of driving makes it even more awe-inspiring.
Then came visits to the Flamingo and Ellis Island and the Tropicana. The Flamingo looks decrepit, and some of the fixtures there look like they've been there since it opened in 1946. Not worth visiting again.
The Tropicana was fine, but too much white decoration in walls and tile and furniture. They're going for a South Beach look in Florida, which is fine, but I can't stand there not being contrasts.
At Ellis Island, the first paragraph of what may be my first novel hit me, and I hurriedly typed it into my cell phone. I began research for it fully last night, and I'm excited about it, and interested to see where it goes. It combines so many of my interests, though the challenge here will be making my interest organic to my main character and not merely making him my mouthpiece. I like the first paragraph, but I have to play with the introduction of the narrator after the explanation that opens my novel.
And to think that if I had gone to see American Beauty, I would have missed out on all of this.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Help Me, Nick Hornby. Do You Have a Minute, Michael Dirda? What Does It All Mean, Michiko Kakutani?
For 14 years, I've written movies and DVD reviews, and now write much less than I used to. When I was a member of the Online Film Critics Society, I began to notice that movies all year round felt like a hamster wheel, with Hollywood's embarrassments in January, the big-budget blockbusters (or "blockbusters," if they flopped) in the summer, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth for Oscars in the fall and winter. Over and over.
I used to be excited about DVDs, wanting to celebrate the impressive scope of Acorn Media's releases, all the British TV series that get a chance here in the United States because of them. But then I began reading a lot more often, and realized where I belong. I still review DVDs, but only those that truly interest me now, and even then, it isn't a whole lot. Some movies, not as many, some TV series like That '70s Show, but not as often as I used to collect TV series for reviews. I still want Westerns, and about two months ago, I bought a Western TV collection, released by Mill Creek Entertainment, at Fry's near Town Square Las Vegas. That's what I want to see. I also want old movies and presidential DVDs, and old TV shows too, such as the '50s TV collection that was released by Film Chest, and included a wonderful episode of The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, with Boris Karloff as one of her guest stars. They haven't released another collection like that since. I'm very picky, and there may come the day when I end my DVD reviews for good. I want to write book reviews now. It's where I belong. I love reading, and I love the thought of receiving books for review. In fact, it has become a reality for me over the past two weeks, though on a small scale, because that's where I need to start. Yes, I have all this experience writing those reviews, but that's not enough. Movies and DVD reviews are vastly different from book reviews. When I wrote those reviews, I knew I wasn't the snarky type, that I couldn't write as irreverently as John Irving Bloom, who took on the persona of Joe Bob Briggs, wildly in love with B movies, horror movies, and slasher movies. I loved that. I knew I could be funny once in a while in my reviews, depending on the movie or the TV series, but I couldn't do it all the time, though I did my best to make my reviews fun to read.
I spent most of last weekend contacting all the book review sites I could find, asking to write for them, telling them of my experiences in writing reviews, and writing book reviews for a time in 2005 for Valley Scene Magazine (a little-more-than-weekly publication distributed throughout the Simi, San Fernando, and Conejo valleys of Southern California), as well as including my resume. Only Boekie's Book Reviews responded, and even the creator of the site, Vanessa, was unsure, because it seemed like I leaned more toward adult novels and nonfiction. But I told her of being an impatient fan of novelists Stacey Ballis, Sarah Pekkanen, and Barbara O'Neal, thereby covering women's literature, and that I've read a wide selection of YA novels, and she accepted me.
I've written two reviews already, one for That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard, and the other for Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. Right now, I'm reading The Wanderer by Robyn Carr for a review, the first of her new Thunder Point series, which at first seems like a tenuous spinoff of her Virgin River series. I finished Whispering Rock, the third in the Virgin River series, last night, so I'm on a Robyn Carr kick right now, and fortunately, Vanessa had The Wanderer available for me.
Despite sometimes wanting to spend less time on the computer, there's no chance of that now. I'm unfortunately entering book reviewing at a time when, if possible, reviewers receive e-reader copies of these books, digital copies. I was reticent at first because I like to have a physical copy as often as possible. So far, no physical copies, but I can't deny the convenience of this. I keep a running Notepad file for each book, taking notes as I read the .pdf file that Vanessa converts for me from the e-reader copy. I still want physical copies, and there are a few publications I want to apply to once I've written a lot more reviews and gained more experience and figured out what my niche is in book reviewing and how I want to write them, but this is fine. Plus, I have all my music on this computer, and ambient and space music to be found on the Internet, so this could work out well. You know, when I'm not working in the school district.
However, that first time with That Time I Joined the Circus was nerve-wracking. First, I hadn't reviewed books since 2005, as mentioned above. Second, I need to figure out who I am all over again. When I began writing movie reviews, I worshipped Roger Ebert like any other aspiring film critic does. I wanted not so much to be like him, but to do what he did, in being at all these screenings and reviewing all these movies. I wanted it as a full-time job, to be paid to watch movies, of course, and to have my thoughts about each movies published. That's as basic as it gets, but I thought that movies would never cease to interest me. And yet, books have been there since I was 2. I have a longer love affair with them, which now feels more like a happy marriage. This is where I belong.
But I don't know what kind of writer I am with these yet. Having reached my third review, I am a little more comfortable, but not by much, and I fear writing the same thoughts over and over. So I need to seek guidance and wisdom. I originally bought The Complete Polysyllabic Spree and More Baths Less Talking, two collections of Nick Hornby's monthly books column for McSweeney's The Believer, because I was in awe of how much he loved books. But now, these collections come in handy because I want to know how he approaches books. Before all this, I've never had to think about how a book works. I just let their joyful waves wash over me, especially with my favorite books, such as The Loop by Joe Coomer, which I'm rereading. Now I'm thinking about how Robyn Carr's descriptions of Thunder Point, Oregon a little after the beginning of The Wanderer feel more obligatory rather than a novelist interested in her new surroundings. I've never done it that extensively before. I've also never before noted where a book finally comes to life, such as with Hank Cooper's playful banter with Gina the waitress at the diner in The Wanderer.
After she posted my review of Eleanor & Park, Vanessa told me by e-mail that she Tweeted my review to Rainbow Rowell, who replied, "This is a gorgeous, insightful review. Thank you so much." I don't write reviews to please filmmakers and authors, though that is a bonus when that happens. But to get that so early is surprising because that was only my second review. I was still nervous when I wrote that review. I'm less nervous with my forthcoming review of The Wanderer because I wrote the first paragraph even before I started reading it on the computer, since I've been reading Robyn Carr's novels long before this one. In fact, I'm picking up A Virgin River Christmas, the fourth in the Virgin River series, at the library tomorrow. I always feel more confident if I've written a paragraph or I have some idea of where a review might go based on the plot of the novel I'm going to review, or what I know of the author based on past novels. I'm more nervous if I have nothing before I start, trying to remember that something will come up while I read.
I want to do this. I know I already am, but I mean more often. I'd like to also write for Booklist Online, which is overseen by the American Library Association. And Bookpage, the free publication I spotted every time I was at the Valencia Library in Santa Clarita, has reviews as well. I'd be glad to write for "The Costco Connection," but I think the book buyers for the company handle that. And maybe Amazon one day. The sheer number of books they receive must be enormous. I want to do all that, but I first need to figure out who I am as a book reviewer, and what kind of book reviewer I want to be. I hope Nick Hornby can help, as well as Michael Dirda, who also writes out of such a great love for books. Michiko Kakutani strikes me as more mysterious, more severe, foreboding even. But she really knows what she writes, so I'm going to read a lot more of her reviews.
And then there's Janet Maslin, who used to be the film critic for the New York Times from 1977 to 1999, and then became a book reviewer. I'd like to find her first book review and she how she developed her style for book reviews. What was her transition like?
I'm enjoying The Wanderer, which helps. I know bad reviews may come, but I've written my fair share over the years. I know as I write more book reviews, I'll feel more comfortable and begin to write in a style that works for me. It doesn't make me less nervous, though. Hence seeking guidance from those who do this. Inspiration, style, and wisdom, and the extent to which these reviewers know the genres that they review. I know there's a lot of the latter as well. Janet Maslin does that with mystery novels. Her knowledge is apparent in those reviews. I hope to do this well, because I'd like to do this for as many years as I've reviewed movies and DVDs, and still more years than that. I'm home here.
I used to be excited about DVDs, wanting to celebrate the impressive scope of Acorn Media's releases, all the British TV series that get a chance here in the United States because of them. But then I began reading a lot more often, and realized where I belong. I still review DVDs, but only those that truly interest me now, and even then, it isn't a whole lot. Some movies, not as many, some TV series like That '70s Show, but not as often as I used to collect TV series for reviews. I still want Westerns, and about two months ago, I bought a Western TV collection, released by Mill Creek Entertainment, at Fry's near Town Square Las Vegas. That's what I want to see. I also want old movies and presidential DVDs, and old TV shows too, such as the '50s TV collection that was released by Film Chest, and included a wonderful episode of The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, with Boris Karloff as one of her guest stars. They haven't released another collection like that since. I'm very picky, and there may come the day when I end my DVD reviews for good. I want to write book reviews now. It's where I belong. I love reading, and I love the thought of receiving books for review. In fact, it has become a reality for me over the past two weeks, though on a small scale, because that's where I need to start. Yes, I have all this experience writing those reviews, but that's not enough. Movies and DVD reviews are vastly different from book reviews. When I wrote those reviews, I knew I wasn't the snarky type, that I couldn't write as irreverently as John Irving Bloom, who took on the persona of Joe Bob Briggs, wildly in love with B movies, horror movies, and slasher movies. I loved that. I knew I could be funny once in a while in my reviews, depending on the movie or the TV series, but I couldn't do it all the time, though I did my best to make my reviews fun to read.
I spent most of last weekend contacting all the book review sites I could find, asking to write for them, telling them of my experiences in writing reviews, and writing book reviews for a time in 2005 for Valley Scene Magazine (a little-more-than-weekly publication distributed throughout the Simi, San Fernando, and Conejo valleys of Southern California), as well as including my resume. Only Boekie's Book Reviews responded, and even the creator of the site, Vanessa, was unsure, because it seemed like I leaned more toward adult novels and nonfiction. But I told her of being an impatient fan of novelists Stacey Ballis, Sarah Pekkanen, and Barbara O'Neal, thereby covering women's literature, and that I've read a wide selection of YA novels, and she accepted me.
I've written two reviews already, one for That Time I Joined the Circus by J.J. Howard, and the other for Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. Right now, I'm reading The Wanderer by Robyn Carr for a review, the first of her new Thunder Point series, which at first seems like a tenuous spinoff of her Virgin River series. I finished Whispering Rock, the third in the Virgin River series, last night, so I'm on a Robyn Carr kick right now, and fortunately, Vanessa had The Wanderer available for me.
Despite sometimes wanting to spend less time on the computer, there's no chance of that now. I'm unfortunately entering book reviewing at a time when, if possible, reviewers receive e-reader copies of these books, digital copies. I was reticent at first because I like to have a physical copy as often as possible. So far, no physical copies, but I can't deny the convenience of this. I keep a running Notepad file for each book, taking notes as I read the .pdf file that Vanessa converts for me from the e-reader copy. I still want physical copies, and there are a few publications I want to apply to once I've written a lot more reviews and gained more experience and figured out what my niche is in book reviewing and how I want to write them, but this is fine. Plus, I have all my music on this computer, and ambient and space music to be found on the Internet, so this could work out well. You know, when I'm not working in the school district.
However, that first time with That Time I Joined the Circus was nerve-wracking. First, I hadn't reviewed books since 2005, as mentioned above. Second, I need to figure out who I am all over again. When I began writing movie reviews, I worshipped Roger Ebert like any other aspiring film critic does. I wanted not so much to be like him, but to do what he did, in being at all these screenings and reviewing all these movies. I wanted it as a full-time job, to be paid to watch movies, of course, and to have my thoughts about each movies published. That's as basic as it gets, but I thought that movies would never cease to interest me. And yet, books have been there since I was 2. I have a longer love affair with them, which now feels more like a happy marriage. This is where I belong.
But I don't know what kind of writer I am with these yet. Having reached my third review, I am a little more comfortable, but not by much, and I fear writing the same thoughts over and over. So I need to seek guidance and wisdom. I originally bought The Complete Polysyllabic Spree and More Baths Less Talking, two collections of Nick Hornby's monthly books column for McSweeney's The Believer, because I was in awe of how much he loved books. But now, these collections come in handy because I want to know how he approaches books. Before all this, I've never had to think about how a book works. I just let their joyful waves wash over me, especially with my favorite books, such as The Loop by Joe Coomer, which I'm rereading. Now I'm thinking about how Robyn Carr's descriptions of Thunder Point, Oregon a little after the beginning of The Wanderer feel more obligatory rather than a novelist interested in her new surroundings. I've never done it that extensively before. I've also never before noted where a book finally comes to life, such as with Hank Cooper's playful banter with Gina the waitress at the diner in The Wanderer.
After she posted my review of Eleanor & Park, Vanessa told me by e-mail that she Tweeted my review to Rainbow Rowell, who replied, "This is a gorgeous, insightful review. Thank you so much." I don't write reviews to please filmmakers and authors, though that is a bonus when that happens. But to get that so early is surprising because that was only my second review. I was still nervous when I wrote that review. I'm less nervous with my forthcoming review of The Wanderer because I wrote the first paragraph even before I started reading it on the computer, since I've been reading Robyn Carr's novels long before this one. In fact, I'm picking up A Virgin River Christmas, the fourth in the Virgin River series, at the library tomorrow. I always feel more confident if I've written a paragraph or I have some idea of where a review might go based on the plot of the novel I'm going to review, or what I know of the author based on past novels. I'm more nervous if I have nothing before I start, trying to remember that something will come up while I read.
I want to do this. I know I already am, but I mean more often. I'd like to also write for Booklist Online, which is overseen by the American Library Association. And Bookpage, the free publication I spotted every time I was at the Valencia Library in Santa Clarita, has reviews as well. I'd be glad to write for "The Costco Connection," but I think the book buyers for the company handle that. And maybe Amazon one day. The sheer number of books they receive must be enormous. I want to do all that, but I first need to figure out who I am as a book reviewer, and what kind of book reviewer I want to be. I hope Nick Hornby can help, as well as Michael Dirda, who also writes out of such a great love for books. Michiko Kakutani strikes me as more mysterious, more severe, foreboding even. But she really knows what she writes, so I'm going to read a lot more of her reviews.
And then there's Janet Maslin, who used to be the film critic for the New York Times from 1977 to 1999, and then became a book reviewer. I'd like to find her first book review and she how she developed her style for book reviews. What was her transition like?
I'm enjoying The Wanderer, which helps. I know bad reviews may come, but I've written my fair share over the years. I know as I write more book reviews, I'll feel more comfortable and begin to write in a style that works for me. It doesn't make me less nervous, though. Hence seeking guidance from those who do this. Inspiration, style, and wisdom, and the extent to which these reviewers know the genres that they review. I know there's a lot of the latter as well. Janet Maslin does that with mystery novels. Her knowledge is apparent in those reviews. I hope to do this well, because I'd like to do this for as many years as I've reviewed movies and DVDs, and still more years than that. I'm home here.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Directors Are It For Me
In my review of the Ray-Romano-on-the-road documentary 95 Miles to Go, I go into two-paragraph detail about my sole interest at a taping of the fourth-to-final episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, that sole interest being director Gary Halvorson. While the rest of the audience likely watched the actors, I watched Halvorson at his monitors, watching the scene, seeing how it played, thinking of what might need to be improved in certain lines, and what emphasis should follow in the next scene. Between scenes, while the rest of the audience likely turned their attention to the warm-up comic or chatted with whoever they were with, I watched Halvorson conferring with the actors on how to play the scene. I specifically remember deep into the taping, the actors on the kitchen set way on the other side of the soundstage, and I could see only Brad Garrett's head moving around.
Directors have always interested me, more than actors, possibly even more than screenwriters. On a sitcom, the executive producers are king and the director is a hired hand, but the director is still in charge of making the taping successful, giving producers and writers what they want, and adding in a bit of his or her own flair. Soon enough, depending on the sitcom, they become a trusted member of the production, such as director Pamela Fryman is with How I Met Your Mother and director James Widdoes (who played fraternity president Robert Hoover in Animal House) is with Two and a Half Men. How do they stay organized? How much advice do they give during rehearsals? Do they keep things loose enough so that the actors feel relaxed enough before taping day, or do they have a set list that they want to follow, that they know how they want the "A" story and "B" story of the episode to be told? It's why in the third and fourth season DVD sets of That '70s Show (reviews here and here), the audio commentaries that series director David Trainer did solo were vastly disappointing because he offered no insight into his directing style, or a typical day on the set of the show, from what he has to do when he walks into work to when he leaves. Nothing.
Right now, I'm reviewing the fifth and sixth seasons, and the sixth season set has two audio commentaries from Trainer that I hope are better. Many of these sitcom directors probably think that no one would be interested in how they work and so they might do what Trainer does, in just recounting what happens in the episode as it's happening. They're dead wrong. There's a lot of value and wisdom to be had from their experiences. It's why I think preeminent sitcom director James Burrows should write a memoir, but knowing his style of directing (head down, walking the floor, listening to the dialogue and calling out "Cut!" in the middle of a scene, before the punchline is reached, if it's not working for him. He'll even kick a camera a few inches to get the right angle while he's walking), and how reserved he appears to be about his work, that's never going to happen. He seems like he prefers to let his work speak for itself. Disappointing for those like me interested in all kinds of directors, but understandable coming from him.
At that taping, I never stopped watching Halvorson. The actors would seem to have more work to do than him, but he has his fair share of work too. And it was interesting watching him watch the monitors and then call out "Cut!" and go to the actors. My biggest disappointment about the experience was that I wanted to get his autograph on the two-page program we were given for the episode, but those pages at Warner Bros. were real bitches. I didn't want Romano's autograph or Garrett's or anyone else in the cast. Just Halvorson's. Contrast that with today when audiences at The Big Bang Theory get posters and TV Guide issues and t-shirts and figurines regularly autographed. I think maybe it's the attitude of each production. Perhaps the Chuck Lorre productions are more open and more appreciative of having an audience, and not so dismissive.
Halvorson was involved with Everybody Loves Raymond long before the end, directing, for example, the two-part episode set in Italy. But he does have the distinction of directing not only that series finale, but also the series finale of Roseanne, which isn't saying much because of how that final season turned out, but it's still notable. I can't speak to whether he had the same rapport with the cast of Roseanne that he seemed to have with the cast of Everybody Loves Raymond, but whoever was in charge of choosing directors on Roseanne, be it her or one of the other executive producers, they must have liked Halvorson enough to ask him to direct the series finale. I always wondered about that process of choosing directors for sitcoms, what goes into it. I know that every pilot season, James Burrows gets a mountain of scripts to choose from, being that famous for his work, and that every pilot he directs has a much bigger chance of being ordered to series. He's rich enough now from his stakes in Cheers and Friends that he doesn't have to work anymore if he doesn't want to. He could retire, but he doesn't, and every pilot he chooses to direct is simply out of love for the work. The sitcom world is lucky to still have him, the Yoda to all of them.
It was different when we went to a taping of three episodes of the Jeopardy! Teen Tournament a few years ago. The director there is Kevin McCarthy who has directed well over 900 episodes from 1994 to today. He was sitting in the control room above the audience seating. I never saw him. He had no need to go to the stage, because he had John Lauderdale, the stage manager, to relay instructions as necessary. When done right, there's little editing needed on Jeopardy!, though I could be wrong. But as I saw it, McCarthy kept track of the cameras and commanded when to cut to whichever camera, thereby doing the editing while taping the episode. It seems likely because operation of the game board is heavily regimented, and Michele Lee Hampton, who is the operator, has to work quickly and efficiently so that the clues are seen right away.
I read in an interview that Corwin did that he watches every episode three times in editing to get everything the way he and the producers want it. There's a lot more shots involved in Wheel of Fortune it seems, and on the official website, there's a video interview to be found with him when the show taped in Las Vegas in which he says that at home, in the studio, he's in a control room, but on location, he's in a mobile unit parked near the theater, calling out camera switches to the technical director sitting next to him.
This brings me to later today, what I hoped to see, but probably won't, based on Corwin's insight. Mom, Dad, Meridith and I are going to American Idol's final broadcast in Las Vegas, the second live show here, in which the remaining guys will be competing. It's in the Beatles Love theater at the Mirage, and we've never been to an American Idol taping before. Even though the Santa Clarita Valley is merely 30 minutes north of Los Angeles, "merely" is a misnomer. If you want to go to Downtown Disney in Anaheim, or IKEA in Burbank, or drive through Beverly Hills, or go to Ventura Harbor Village in Ventura, you have to make a day of it. You have to leave early enough in the day so you at least have a few hours where you want to be, and don't expect to get back to Santa Clarita until after dark.
We couldn't go to a regular taping of American Idol at CBS Television City anyway, since it was always the middle of the week. The school day ended at 3:10 p.m. at La Mesa, where Dad worked, but he usually wouldn't be out of work until 3:30 or 3:40. Far too late to get there, and it wouldn't have been worth the trip anyway, not after that treatment at Everybody Loves Raymond. That's not to say that the audience coordinators at Idol would have been as short with those who had come to see the show, but in Hollywood, you can never be sure of such a thing. In Hollywood, hope is for the weak.
(We did enter various contests to try to win tickets to go to the season finales, but never won.)
This time, it's local, the first time American Idol has been in Las Vegas, I think for the past three weeks now, an attempt to goose the ratings, which have been way below what they used to be. Only 13+ million watched last week's episodes, though we'll see if the first live show gives an uptick in the ratings. I should think that with ratings being like that, the production would be grateful for anyone watching the show, not to mention all that they're doing to switch around how it used to be, first with these shows here in my home, but also with that SuperVote that allows you to vote 50 times at once for one contestant or spread out your votes for different contestants. Maybe because of this, the audience coordinators will be friendlier than how I've seen them in the past. Not just the pages at Everybody Loves Raymond, but it felt a little like we all were a hassle at Jeopardy!. Mom said that it was interesting to see how it was done, but if she was ever to go to a taping of Wheel of Fortune, her favorite game show, it would not be at Sony Pictures Studios. The Jeopardy! set looks much smaller in person than it does on TV, and she doesn't want to be surprised by that at Wheel of Fortune. So if Wheel of Fortune comes back to Las Vegas (the last time they were here, we weren't), we'll do everything we possibly can to get tickets because it'll be in an entirely different setting and nothing about the show would be ruined for Mom since we'll be here at home for it.
Mind you, the printout we have for American Idol only guarantees us access to the line to wait to get in. We might not even get in. But I'm not sure if that's even possible because with how low the ratings are, and the fact that it's midweek during a typically slow time of the tourist season (not to mention that residents are working, and those residents who might have been able to come are those who probably just got off work and are dead tired and want to go home to sleep), means that we may very well get in. I've never watched a full season of Idol. I've sat through many episodes, but I can't tell you anything of what happened. I only know about Adam Lambert and Chris Daughtry and Ace Young and Justin Guarini because they're Meridith's favorites.
I don't mind waiting in line and then filing into the Beatles Love theater and then sitting through a two-hour live broadcast, because I'm curious about what goes on during the commercials, and what the judges do during performances and during commercials, such as it was with last night's episode when Nicki Minaj had to run to her dressing room to get something and was eager to get offstage before they even cut to commercial. I've read taping reports of past episodes out of curiosity, but I want to see it all for myself. I do wonder if there are camera rehearsals for the audience to sit through before the live broadcast, and that would seem likely because they'd need to gauge the audience, see what angles they want, and whatever else they have to do.
I know that Idol has been directed since 2011 by Gregg Gelfand, and I wonder, if there are camera rehearsals, if he'll be on stage conferring with whoever he needs to in order to be sure that he gets what he needs for the live broadcast. I hope it'll be like that, the same way it was when I watched Gary Halvorson at work. I know that Gelfand will not be in the theater during the live broadcast, but in that mobile unit outside the Mirage, maybe in that parking lot in the back where the early voting trailer was that we went to to vote early in the presidential election last year (in salute to the Mirage being the first hotel-casino we went to the first time we were in Las Vegas in 2007), directing the show from there. I'm curious about how it all works, how it sounds differently compared to watching it on TV, and just all the little things that go into making it happen. Even though I don't care about Idol, I'm interested in the inner workings of any production. I wonder what it takes to make this one work. I hope we get in for that reason.
Directors have always interested me, more than actors, possibly even more than screenwriters. On a sitcom, the executive producers are king and the director is a hired hand, but the director is still in charge of making the taping successful, giving producers and writers what they want, and adding in a bit of his or her own flair. Soon enough, depending on the sitcom, they become a trusted member of the production, such as director Pamela Fryman is with How I Met Your Mother and director James Widdoes (who played fraternity president Robert Hoover in Animal House) is with Two and a Half Men. How do they stay organized? How much advice do they give during rehearsals? Do they keep things loose enough so that the actors feel relaxed enough before taping day, or do they have a set list that they want to follow, that they know how they want the "A" story and "B" story of the episode to be told? It's why in the third and fourth season DVD sets of That '70s Show (reviews here and here), the audio commentaries that series director David Trainer did solo were vastly disappointing because he offered no insight into his directing style, or a typical day on the set of the show, from what he has to do when he walks into work to when he leaves. Nothing.
Right now, I'm reviewing the fifth and sixth seasons, and the sixth season set has two audio commentaries from Trainer that I hope are better. Many of these sitcom directors probably think that no one would be interested in how they work and so they might do what Trainer does, in just recounting what happens in the episode as it's happening. They're dead wrong. There's a lot of value and wisdom to be had from their experiences. It's why I think preeminent sitcom director James Burrows should write a memoir, but knowing his style of directing (head down, walking the floor, listening to the dialogue and calling out "Cut!" in the middle of a scene, before the punchline is reached, if it's not working for him. He'll even kick a camera a few inches to get the right angle while he's walking), and how reserved he appears to be about his work, that's never going to happen. He seems like he prefers to let his work speak for itself. Disappointing for those like me interested in all kinds of directors, but understandable coming from him.
At that taping, I never stopped watching Halvorson. The actors would seem to have more work to do than him, but he has his fair share of work too. And it was interesting watching him watch the monitors and then call out "Cut!" and go to the actors. My biggest disappointment about the experience was that I wanted to get his autograph on the two-page program we were given for the episode, but those pages at Warner Bros. were real bitches. I didn't want Romano's autograph or Garrett's or anyone else in the cast. Just Halvorson's. Contrast that with today when audiences at The Big Bang Theory get posters and TV Guide issues and t-shirts and figurines regularly autographed. I think maybe it's the attitude of each production. Perhaps the Chuck Lorre productions are more open and more appreciative of having an audience, and not so dismissive.
Halvorson was involved with Everybody Loves Raymond long before the end, directing, for example, the two-part episode set in Italy. But he does have the distinction of directing not only that series finale, but also the series finale of Roseanne, which isn't saying much because of how that final season turned out, but it's still notable. I can't speak to whether he had the same rapport with the cast of Roseanne that he seemed to have with the cast of Everybody Loves Raymond, but whoever was in charge of choosing directors on Roseanne, be it her or one of the other executive producers, they must have liked Halvorson enough to ask him to direct the series finale. I always wondered about that process of choosing directors for sitcoms, what goes into it. I know that every pilot season, James Burrows gets a mountain of scripts to choose from, being that famous for his work, and that every pilot he directs has a much bigger chance of being ordered to series. He's rich enough now from his stakes in Cheers and Friends that he doesn't have to work anymore if he doesn't want to. He could retire, but he doesn't, and every pilot he chooses to direct is simply out of love for the work. The sitcom world is lucky to still have him, the Yoda to all of them.
It was different when we went to a taping of three episodes of the Jeopardy! Teen Tournament a few years ago. The director there is Kevin McCarthy who has directed well over 900 episodes from 1994 to today. He was sitting in the control room above the audience seating. I never saw him. He had no need to go to the stage, because he had John Lauderdale, the stage manager, to relay instructions as necessary. When done right, there's little editing needed on Jeopardy!, though I could be wrong. But as I saw it, McCarthy kept track of the cameras and commanded when to cut to whichever camera, thereby doing the editing while taping the episode. It seems likely because operation of the game board is heavily regimented, and Michele Lee Hampton, who is the operator, has to work quickly and efficiently so that the clues are seen right away.
I read in an interview that Corwin did that he watches every episode three times in editing to get everything the way he and the producers want it. There's a lot more shots involved in Wheel of Fortune it seems, and on the official website, there's a video interview to be found with him when the show taped in Las Vegas in which he says that at home, in the studio, he's in a control room, but on location, he's in a mobile unit parked near the theater, calling out camera switches to the technical director sitting next to him.
This brings me to later today, what I hoped to see, but probably won't, based on Corwin's insight. Mom, Dad, Meridith and I are going to American Idol's final broadcast in Las Vegas, the second live show here, in which the remaining guys will be competing. It's in the Beatles Love theater at the Mirage, and we've never been to an American Idol taping before. Even though the Santa Clarita Valley is merely 30 minutes north of Los Angeles, "merely" is a misnomer. If you want to go to Downtown Disney in Anaheim, or IKEA in Burbank, or drive through Beverly Hills, or go to Ventura Harbor Village in Ventura, you have to make a day of it. You have to leave early enough in the day so you at least have a few hours where you want to be, and don't expect to get back to Santa Clarita until after dark.
We couldn't go to a regular taping of American Idol at CBS Television City anyway, since it was always the middle of the week. The school day ended at 3:10 p.m. at La Mesa, where Dad worked, but he usually wouldn't be out of work until 3:30 or 3:40. Far too late to get there, and it wouldn't have been worth the trip anyway, not after that treatment at Everybody Loves Raymond. That's not to say that the audience coordinators at Idol would have been as short with those who had come to see the show, but in Hollywood, you can never be sure of such a thing. In Hollywood, hope is for the weak.
(We did enter various contests to try to win tickets to go to the season finales, but never won.)
This time, it's local, the first time American Idol has been in Las Vegas, I think for the past three weeks now, an attempt to goose the ratings, which have been way below what they used to be. Only 13+ million watched last week's episodes, though we'll see if the first live show gives an uptick in the ratings. I should think that with ratings being like that, the production would be grateful for anyone watching the show, not to mention all that they're doing to switch around how it used to be, first with these shows here in my home, but also with that SuperVote that allows you to vote 50 times at once for one contestant or spread out your votes for different contestants. Maybe because of this, the audience coordinators will be friendlier than how I've seen them in the past. Not just the pages at Everybody Loves Raymond, but it felt a little like we all were a hassle at Jeopardy!. Mom said that it was interesting to see how it was done, but if she was ever to go to a taping of Wheel of Fortune, her favorite game show, it would not be at Sony Pictures Studios. The Jeopardy! set looks much smaller in person than it does on TV, and she doesn't want to be surprised by that at Wheel of Fortune. So if Wheel of Fortune comes back to Las Vegas (the last time they were here, we weren't), we'll do everything we possibly can to get tickets because it'll be in an entirely different setting and nothing about the show would be ruined for Mom since we'll be here at home for it.
Mind you, the printout we have for American Idol only guarantees us access to the line to wait to get in. We might not even get in. But I'm not sure if that's even possible because with how low the ratings are, and the fact that it's midweek during a typically slow time of the tourist season (not to mention that residents are working, and those residents who might have been able to come are those who probably just got off work and are dead tired and want to go home to sleep), means that we may very well get in. I've never watched a full season of Idol. I've sat through many episodes, but I can't tell you anything of what happened. I only know about Adam Lambert and Chris Daughtry and Ace Young and Justin Guarini because they're Meridith's favorites.
I don't mind waiting in line and then filing into the Beatles Love theater and then sitting through a two-hour live broadcast, because I'm curious about what goes on during the commercials, and what the judges do during performances and during commercials, such as it was with last night's episode when Nicki Minaj had to run to her dressing room to get something and was eager to get offstage before they even cut to commercial. I've read taping reports of past episodes out of curiosity, but I want to see it all for myself. I do wonder if there are camera rehearsals for the audience to sit through before the live broadcast, and that would seem likely because they'd need to gauge the audience, see what angles they want, and whatever else they have to do.
I know that Idol has been directed since 2011 by Gregg Gelfand, and I wonder, if there are camera rehearsals, if he'll be on stage conferring with whoever he needs to in order to be sure that he gets what he needs for the live broadcast. I hope it'll be like that, the same way it was when I watched Gary Halvorson at work. I know that Gelfand will not be in the theater during the live broadcast, but in that mobile unit outside the Mirage, maybe in that parking lot in the back where the early voting trailer was that we went to to vote early in the presidential election last year (in salute to the Mirage being the first hotel-casino we went to the first time we were in Las Vegas in 2007), directing the show from there. I'm curious about how it all works, how it sounds differently compared to watching it on TV, and just all the little things that go into making it happen. Even though I don't care about Idol, I'm interested in the inner workings of any production. I wonder what it takes to make this one work. I hope we get in for that reason.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
This is What You'll Be Eating
Yesterday afternoon, after getting home from work and Vons (the one on East Tropicana Avenue), Meridith showed me the triple cheese enchilada frozen dinner she picked out for me for dinner tonight. Mom wanted something reliable, Stouffer's macaroni and cheese for herself, because she can't risk an upset stomach from anything, being that we're going to the final American Idol broadcast, the second live show, in Las Vegas, at the Beatles Love theater at the Mirage, the remaining guys competing. The taping of three episodes of the Jeopardy! Teen Tournament that we went to a few years ago was fine, but the taping of Two and a Half Men that Mom and Dad went to with a few people Dad knew from work, back when Charlie Sheen was well-entrenched on the show, was a hassle for Mom in climbing stairs since her energy is never at full strength, and Everybody Loves Raymond, the fourth-to-last episode entitled "Sister-in-Law," was the same problem. Wheel of Fortune is Mom's favorite game show, but she said that she'd only go to a taping if they come back here to Las Vegas. We never thought about that for American Idol, in going to a regular taping. When contests were up for tickets to the season finales, we always entered, but never won. So now here is American Idol in Las Vegas, our home, and we're taking that opportunity. We have to arrive in line by 2:30 p.m., ahead of the live broadcast at 5 for the east coast that'll end at 7.
Anyway, that's not the reason I'm writing. I have a choice for tonight's dinner, an easy one to make. I also have a frozen turkey lasagna dinner in the freezer, but being that I've happily had spaghetti for the past two nights, I don't want to become tired of pasta, which may well be at the top of my list of favorite foods. There was a choice in the freezer and I made it. I hope that Safeway Select triple cheese enchilada will be decent, because I remember another dinner I had from that brand and it must have been really great because I don't remember exactly what it was. Hopefully it's better here than it was in Santa Clarita. Maybe there's different regulations to meet here, or even less regulations, what with California being so over-regulated.
It got me thinking about the second half of 2nd grade to 5th grade at Riverside Elementary in Coral Springs, Florida. In the cafeteria, the salad bar was available every day if you didn't want what they were serving, and I remember many times overloading my tray with their salad bar offerings. I still do that today at Sweet Tomatoes and any other buffet that has a salad bar. What I was then, I still am now.
I remember that there was Mexican Pizza some Fridays that I always went for. But the days they had baked chicken were the worst. I don't know how they could have called it baked chicken with how greasy it was. It got all over my hands, all over my face, and the napkin in the utensil collection we got, wrapped in plastic, seemed like half-ply. There was no napkin there, just a rumor of one that was quickly dismissed as such. You could not wipe your hands with this napkin and get all the grease off. If you wanted another napkin, if you could get another napkin, you had to get up, go back to the kitchen area and see if you could get another utensil collection. I don't remember them ever having napkins available on the side. I now realize that I probably should have made friends in elementary school as best I could, just so I could get the napkin if they weren't using it.
There was a choice in elementary school lunches. It was this, or this, or the salad bar. But once you made that choice, you got everything that went along with it, including what they were serving on the side, which I've forgotten. Maybe there were fries. Soggy fries at that. I'd count on it, because the macaroni and cheese at Riverside tasted like gasoline. I'm not kidding.
Sometimes I miss that, choosing that one main dish and getting everything that comes with it. Looking at the March elementary school lunch menu on the Broward Schools website, I see that there are a lot more choices than there ever was when I was in school. For example, today, Tuesday, there's beef taco, Latin style black beans over brown rice with salsa, homemade tuna salad with crackers, "Garden Fresh Entree Salads," steamed corn, Capri mixed vegetables (apparently carrots, green beans, squash, and zucchini, according to what I found through Google), green apple juice, and fresh fruit. Choose the taco and you likely get the black beans and brown rice. The homemade tuna salad gets you crackers. And the rest would seem to be up for grabs. If you want the salad, you probably wouldn't want the steamed corn or mixed vegetables with it because you already have vegetables. But perhaps you want the steamed corn with the beef taco and the black beans and rice. The menu doesn't indicate if the corn or vegetables are attached to any of the main entrees. They're not separate from the entree listings because there's so much to list that they couldn't make a space in between. But because other listings in March are separated by a space indicating the entrees at the top and the sides below, I guess you can mix and match if you want. But generally, this is what there is, although the salad bar seems to have been replaced by the pre-made salads. More convenient for the school, less costly, and less messy. However, I'm appreciative of Riverside Elementary instilling in me a love of salad bars.
What really got me thinking about all this was last week when we each received the monthly rewards brochure from Ellis Island Casino & Brewery on Koval Lane, which faces the asses of some casinos on the Strip. In it is when you can get five times the points (Mondays and Fridays this month on video poker, reel and video reel slot machines), six times the points, 10 times the points, and so on. They also tout their cash drawings, and that every Tuesday & Saturday, you can visit any Passport Central Kiosk to print your coupon for a free slice of pizza and an El Beer or an El Root Beer at Metro Pizza inside the casino. There's also coupons for $5 in free play and coupons for free food if you earn 100 points or 150 points by playing. I'm never tempted to play just to rack up points. I'm not going to spend that much money.
I don't know if we'll go to this on Easter Sunday, or even if it'll be noticed by Easter Sunday. But the restaurant inside Ellis Island has something interesting on that day, beginning at 11 a.m. $9.99 gets you the Easter Dinner Special, which is honey baked ham, corn stuffing, baked yams, buttered corn, and pumpkin pie dessert. The pumpkin pie dessert is what worries me because if it was straight pumpkin pie by the slice, then it would say "pumpkin pie." But what does pumpkin pie dessert mean? Mousse? Parfait? Pudding? We've been to the restaurant once before, and I liked the spaghetti there, so I trust that their plans for this menu will go well. They really make an effort for good food and an enjoyable experience that gets you away from the cigarette smoke for a while. You can't beat that.
There's that chance in Las Vegas, just like I had in elementary school, of picking that one entree and getting whatever comes with it. And I'm not talking about substitutions. I mean that you pick that, and you get all of that. You put your taste buds in the hands of the chef and you experience whatever has been on their mind, and you hope it's a great meal. And even if it isn't as great, a few slip-ups here and there, you still get a sense of the personality of the chef that way, perhaps not wanting to go there next time, or maybe you will, because you like the atmosphere and certain other portions of your meal, and maybe the chef was just having an off day. But it doesn't stop you from placing your trust with another chef or even the same chef because you want to see what they can do with the menu they have planned, what they can do with things you like. I think there's a good chance of that Easter menu being done right because it's not something they have to do every day. It's once a year and they can be as elaborate or as low-key as they want, either turning the menu lopsided a bit, doing something different than expected with the same ingredients expected for Easter, or sticking with what works and adding their own comforting touches.
I know that we put our trust in any number of chefs whenever we order off of any menu, but the ultimate trust is here, ordering courses that are entirely up to them. That's when eating becomes most interesting.
Anyway, that's not the reason I'm writing. I have a choice for tonight's dinner, an easy one to make. I also have a frozen turkey lasagna dinner in the freezer, but being that I've happily had spaghetti for the past two nights, I don't want to become tired of pasta, which may well be at the top of my list of favorite foods. There was a choice in the freezer and I made it. I hope that Safeway Select triple cheese enchilada will be decent, because I remember another dinner I had from that brand and it must have been really great because I don't remember exactly what it was. Hopefully it's better here than it was in Santa Clarita. Maybe there's different regulations to meet here, or even less regulations, what with California being so over-regulated.
It got me thinking about the second half of 2nd grade to 5th grade at Riverside Elementary in Coral Springs, Florida. In the cafeteria, the salad bar was available every day if you didn't want what they were serving, and I remember many times overloading my tray with their salad bar offerings. I still do that today at Sweet Tomatoes and any other buffet that has a salad bar. What I was then, I still am now.
I remember that there was Mexican Pizza some Fridays that I always went for. But the days they had baked chicken were the worst. I don't know how they could have called it baked chicken with how greasy it was. It got all over my hands, all over my face, and the napkin in the utensil collection we got, wrapped in plastic, seemed like half-ply. There was no napkin there, just a rumor of one that was quickly dismissed as such. You could not wipe your hands with this napkin and get all the grease off. If you wanted another napkin, if you could get another napkin, you had to get up, go back to the kitchen area and see if you could get another utensil collection. I don't remember them ever having napkins available on the side. I now realize that I probably should have made friends in elementary school as best I could, just so I could get the napkin if they weren't using it.
There was a choice in elementary school lunches. It was this, or this, or the salad bar. But once you made that choice, you got everything that went along with it, including what they were serving on the side, which I've forgotten. Maybe there were fries. Soggy fries at that. I'd count on it, because the macaroni and cheese at Riverside tasted like gasoline. I'm not kidding.
Sometimes I miss that, choosing that one main dish and getting everything that comes with it. Looking at the March elementary school lunch menu on the Broward Schools website, I see that there are a lot more choices than there ever was when I was in school. For example, today, Tuesday, there's beef taco, Latin style black beans over brown rice with salsa, homemade tuna salad with crackers, "Garden Fresh Entree Salads," steamed corn, Capri mixed vegetables (apparently carrots, green beans, squash, and zucchini, according to what I found through Google), green apple juice, and fresh fruit. Choose the taco and you likely get the black beans and brown rice. The homemade tuna salad gets you crackers. And the rest would seem to be up for grabs. If you want the salad, you probably wouldn't want the steamed corn or mixed vegetables with it because you already have vegetables. But perhaps you want the steamed corn with the beef taco and the black beans and rice. The menu doesn't indicate if the corn or vegetables are attached to any of the main entrees. They're not separate from the entree listings because there's so much to list that they couldn't make a space in between. But because other listings in March are separated by a space indicating the entrees at the top and the sides below, I guess you can mix and match if you want. But generally, this is what there is, although the salad bar seems to have been replaced by the pre-made salads. More convenient for the school, less costly, and less messy. However, I'm appreciative of Riverside Elementary instilling in me a love of salad bars.
What really got me thinking about all this was last week when we each received the monthly rewards brochure from Ellis Island Casino & Brewery on Koval Lane, which faces the asses of some casinos on the Strip. In it is when you can get five times the points (Mondays and Fridays this month on video poker, reel and video reel slot machines), six times the points, 10 times the points, and so on. They also tout their cash drawings, and that every Tuesday & Saturday, you can visit any Passport Central Kiosk to print your coupon for a free slice of pizza and an El Beer or an El Root Beer at Metro Pizza inside the casino. There's also coupons for $5 in free play and coupons for free food if you earn 100 points or 150 points by playing. I'm never tempted to play just to rack up points. I'm not going to spend that much money.
I don't know if we'll go to this on Easter Sunday, or even if it'll be noticed by Easter Sunday. But the restaurant inside Ellis Island has something interesting on that day, beginning at 11 a.m. $9.99 gets you the Easter Dinner Special, which is honey baked ham, corn stuffing, baked yams, buttered corn, and pumpkin pie dessert. The pumpkin pie dessert is what worries me because if it was straight pumpkin pie by the slice, then it would say "pumpkin pie." But what does pumpkin pie dessert mean? Mousse? Parfait? Pudding? We've been to the restaurant once before, and I liked the spaghetti there, so I trust that their plans for this menu will go well. They really make an effort for good food and an enjoyable experience that gets you away from the cigarette smoke for a while. You can't beat that.
There's that chance in Las Vegas, just like I had in elementary school, of picking that one entree and getting whatever comes with it. And I'm not talking about substitutions. I mean that you pick that, and you get all of that. You put your taste buds in the hands of the chef and you experience whatever has been on their mind, and you hope it's a great meal. And even if it isn't as great, a few slip-ups here and there, you still get a sense of the personality of the chef that way, perhaps not wanting to go there next time, or maybe you will, because you like the atmosphere and certain other portions of your meal, and maybe the chef was just having an off day. But it doesn't stop you from placing your trust with another chef or even the same chef because you want to see what they can do with the menu they have planned, what they can do with things you like. I think there's a good chance of that Easter menu being done right because it's not something they have to do every day. It's once a year and they can be as elaborate or as low-key as they want, either turning the menu lopsided a bit, doing something different than expected with the same ingredients expected for Easter, or sticking with what works and adding their own comforting touches.
I know that we put our trust in any number of chefs whenever we order off of any menu, but the ultimate trust is here, ordering courses that are entirely up to them. That's when eating becomes most interesting.
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