Silly Symphonies - Program 4

The Silly Symphonies program was fun, and probably it was good that I only got to see one 70-minute program. (As opposed to watching all four programs. It would be like watching a whole bunch of half-hour sitcoms until you walk away feeling empty, as if a few hours of your life have gone down the drain with nothing to show for it -- you've been neither educated nor entertained, and you've not accomplished anything either. And people wonder why I don't have a TV? I know my weakness.)

The best of the lot was the six-minute cartoon "Hell's Bells" from 1929, the earliest of the series. The music was good, the animation consisted of, er, devilishly clever but simple line drawings. There are some ghoulish touches, such as one devil playing a skeleton bass, and another doing percussion on a skull and pressing the bellows with his foot to sound a trumpet (the "bellows" is another devil, lying on the ground with a trumpet to his lips). Meanwhile, the bubbling lava provides additional percussion. The whole thing is kind of sassy and sweet. The official program describes the crux of the plot as follows: "After the devil king drinks fire milked from the udder of a dragon, he eats one of his devil servants and pursues a second one over a cliff." The scene is more dramatically and psychologically rich than the writeup suggests, and (naturally) vastly more entertaining to watch. The king has to pursue the second servant because he (the second one) won't stand still to be eaten after seeing the fate of the first servant. He then outwits the king and manages to lure him out to the end of a cliff while he hides underneath, then climbs up a crevice behind the king, and boots him over the edge.

I also really liked The Old Mill (1937), which is a lovely 9-minute wordless tale of the creatures who inhabit an old windmill (gotta love the bats) and how they deal with the battering of a severe storm which temporarily jars the old mill into life.

Water Babies (1935) was fascinating, with an innocence that now looks a bit creepy through modern eyes - I don't think Disney would make a film like this anymore. It reminded me a little of the work of Anne Geddes.

The others were interesting, though some have aged better than others. The eerily similar "Little Red Hen" and "Wise Little Hen" (both released in 1934), nonetheless evoke very different responses in the modern viewer. LRH was almost unwatchable, while WLH was okay if a little over-cute. I was more intrigued by the fact that two studios (perhaps independently) came up with the same basic idea, just as they did in 1998 with "Armageddon" and "Deep Impact." Is it the case that great minds think alike (i.e., mere coincidence)? Or were creative minds in both places reading the same zeitgeist? Or, for you conspiracy theorists out there, did one studio get wind of the other's plan and decide not to be left out of the "trend"?

The Art of the Apology

If, like the protagonist in "Sorry" (The Skunks, No Apologies, 1996), you find that you "don't know what to say" (or perhaps you "know the words/ But can't pronounce them anyway"), check out this official apology form which I ran into on a NYT blog.

Yoga Countdown

Well, I have four yoga classes left, and three days to take them. I think I'll take three "easy" classes - the "lounging lotus" restorative session yesterday was wonderfully relaxing. Although it seemed like we spent most of our time folding blankets, which wasn't really supposed to be the point. We were supposed to be peeling away the physical self, the mental self, the emotional self, and one other self I completely forget (maybe it was successfully peeled away) to get down to the "true" self, aka the prana self. I really liked the pose we did to empty out the emotional self - very open and relaxing. By contrast, during the "prana self" pose, I was mostly distracted by the stinky blankets under my nose. And all this talk about selfs around Christmastime tends to trigger thoughts of elfs, which is not very helpful for the visualization we were supposed to be doing.

The only problem with taking the easy class today is that it will interfere with my ability to go see the first Silly Symphonies program at the Museum of the Moving Image. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions.

The Feline Instinct

Cats are notorious for settling themselves in to the center of things -- right on the book you are reading, or on the keyboard if you're using the computer. B&S don't have a cat anymore, but their little one has the feline instinct. (And yes, the older one won't let go of her new stuffed animal, Stinger the stingray, as she unwraps another gift.)

Christmas Pageant

For my belated Christmas pageant debut, I ended up buying an angel outfit at Ricky's (my first visit there). As regular Ricky's customers may have guessed, it was difficult to find anything other than a Sexy Angel or a Plus Size Angel, neither of which would have fit the occasion. My perseverance paid off, however, and I ended up with a costume that was considerably cooler than the church-provided ones -- a much better halo, and real feather wings. So I was careful to stay out of the limelight, since the audience was definitely not there to see me. (Some eagle-eyed readers may quibble that my parents must have been there to see me; to them, I merely point out that my parents' attention was siphoned off to a large degree by other, far more prominent pageant participants -- such as their son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren.)


My niece loves to play dress-up, so I let her try on my angel outfit afterward. She out-cuted me in my own costume, even though the sleeves were about a foot too long.


She also looked more natural in wings.

Window

Frrrrozen North

After a stressful week (not nearly enough time to do everything I wanted to do, and a strange dinner with a buddy who tried to seize my bags and carry them for me without asking first - is this where chivalry crosses the line into controlling behavior? - but I graciously permitted him to carry the bag containing my angel costume), my 3 a.m. alarm permitted me to cram my Friday morning with cooking breakfast (can't face the day on an empty stomach), running a load of laundry, and frantic bag-packing, followed by a mad scramble to Penn Station with three ill-packed, heavy bags.

I made the 6:20 a.m. Acela Express (thank goodness I mistakenly thought the train was scheduled for 6:15) and commenced a period of intense productivity. I snagged a seat at a table and managed to discourage people from taking the empty seats as I took out my wrapping paper, scissors, and tape, and methodically proceeded to wrap all my presents - including two that I meant to leave in NYC (grrr). Once that was done, I pulled out my stack of Christmas cards and prepared them for everyone whose address I had on hand. Even this partial distribution is a real step forward, as I pretty much failed to send any in 2005 or 2006.

Instead of alighting at South Station, I decided to get out a stop early at Back Bay/Copley Square and walk to my old dorm to catch up with a friend. This was not a particularly practical move, as it turns out, since my mental geography had relocated Copley Square to where the Hynes Convention Center is. How quickly we forget! I was able to find my way, but it was a good 10+ blocks further than I expected. Luckily the walk along Commonwealth Ave in the fresh snow was its own reward. The trees, every bare branch bedecked with an inch of snow, looked like bonsai trees, the snow highlighting their every twist and tangle. I would very much have liked to take some pictures, especially of one particular townhouse with a copper-sheathed bay window, but my camera was deep-sixed and the going was slow enough as it was. I enjoyed a cup of coffee with my friend, talking of this, that, and theology. She also told me about a very cool job opening at Rosedale Achievement Center in the South Bronx (where I used to volunteer three Saturdays a month as a drama teacher).

I caught the bus from South Station around the time that my parents caught the bus from Logan Airport (they flew in from India) and we made our way together to their place. Which turned out to be a nice, energy-conserving 40 degrees. We accidental environmentalists then made the mistake of turning up the thermostat, which had the counter-intuitive result of forcing COLD AIR all around the house. So it got a lot colder. Luckily we were able to start a fire and sit around watching "Christmas in July" (a Preston Sturges flick) while trying to reach the furnace folks.

FOCUS Cider Sing and the Ghost City

Today's official sermon (more about the unofficial sermon later) was about "speaking truth to power" -- a phrase that raises my hackles and leaves them that way. It doesn't help that R had told me about attending a fundraising "speak truth to power" event held on the grand private estate of one of the younger Kennedys.

However, it was worth going to the 11:15 service, not only because it builds character and Rev. Perdue may manage to slip in a theological truth or two when I let my guard down for a moment, but also because afterward, a hardy group banded together for the annual Cider Sing. That's right, we stood under the eaves of the church on Fifth Avenue, barely sheltered from the cold damp wind, and treated passers-by to unrehearsed caroling, mini muffins, hot cider, and Christmas cheer.

Here you can see us standing around while our director pro tempore oversaw the recall of the 2005 Edition Songbook and replaced it with the 2007 Edition:

The 2007 Upgrade was in some ways a downgrade, since the new songbook did not have the music or lyrics for "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in it. We had to sing that one from memory. Luckily, it was one of our strong points -- many of us knew the cheeky catch-phrases to shout out in-between verses -- although there was some disagreement about whether Rudolf would go down in history like Christopher Columbus, Mickey Mouse, or various other important historical figures.

Oddly, despite the inclement weather, passers-by slowed and gathered around to watch, listen and applaud. They snapped photos and videotaped us as if we were trained professional singers rather than enthusiastic amateurs much like themselves. (Although in fairness, at least two soprano voices near me were professional quality, and one of those voices belongs to an official member of our auditioned choir. Those voices certainly stood out for their clarity of tone, pitch, etc.) One tourist, carrying an Abercrombie & Fitch bag, came up and told us -- almost with tears in his eyes -- that this was the absolute highlight of his weekend. And they weren't even tears of laughter. He was genuinely moved.

My day actually started much earlier than 11:15, however, because I had volunteered to help out with Sunday school. It's always a lot of fun, starting with the mini worship service. The kids' sermons tend to be more hands-on than cerebral or political. Jacob Bolton, director of Family Ministries, gave a sermon about how we're all connected through Jesus. The prop was a ping pong ball with an L.E.D. and an electronic noisemaker inside, and two metal strips on the outside. If you hold the ball touching both metal strips simultaneously, the current flows through your body and the ball lights up and makes a little noise. Very cool. But in order to make the necessary theological point, Jacob had to hold the ball so that he was touching one strip, then a kid would come up and hold Jacob's hand and touch the other strip. The current then went through both bodies and energized the ball; if they unclasped their hands, the circuit was broken.

In the picture below, Jacob took a risk with his sermon - he had 10+ kids come up and link hands creating one monster circuit. Would the current run through ALL of them and light up the ball? Luckily, it worked as anticipated (phew!).


On the way home, I caught the ghostly skyline through the subway windows:

The Sun Terrace at Night

Another great shindig at the Sun Terrace, a place in midtown west (far west) with low buildings all around ... thus providing a spectacular nighttime panorama of all the lit-up skyscrapers, that my camera simply cannot capture.

Alda tries to tempt Roger with a brownie...
While Sharon chats with our gracious host, Patricia.
I made my masala-spiced chickpeas for the feast. There was a lot of competition (including a large pizza, two shepherd's pies, several salads, rice dishes, roasted chicken, and a plethora of desserts), but no clear winner. Other than the doormen, who get a lot of the leftover goodies as the party wraps up.

In the spirit of the season, a Christmas tree at night:

News of the Weird (is there any other kind)

We had a lot of cold rain here today, but when I emerged from the subway on my way home, the streetlights caught the ice coating the bare branches of all the young trees. Really lovely.

My current obsession is Weird Al -- I treated myself to five of his songs recently and am in seventh heaven. I can't stop smiling at these sublime rhymes, which work a Nashian/Seussian transformation of the underlying source material.

The best of the lot is "Ebay", a spoof of the Backstreet Boys' "I want it that way". He should definitely win a prize for best-ever use of the word "tchotchkes" in a song ("...I'll buy your tchotchkes. Sell me your watch, please!"). His anti-TV songs are really fun too.

In yoga news, I have only 8 classes left! And 10 days to take them! Woo hoo! This doesn't leave me a lot of time to rest on my laurels, unfortunately.

And in the "News of the Weird" category, there's another person at work (luckily not in my building or my department) with the same first and last name. So I get her emails from time to time. (She doesn't seem to get mine, or if she does, she doesn't bother to forward them to me.) Today, I realized we also have the same middle initial. Interesting coincidence. So I asked her middle name. Turns out it is the same as mine. Pretty neat, eh? As it happens, though, she was born in a different month, so we can be pretty sure we are not twins separated at birth or whatever. But still.