Month: May 2001

Fezboy! detests choral music. "Swing choir" makes him puke. . . violently. Helping out as the coatcheck boy here at the local performing arts center I’ve had to sit through 220 minutes of ear-bleeding pep-pap. The cultural equivalent of unflavored gelatin – that’s what it is. It also brings in the locals and I don’t mean locals in a friendly way. We’re talking Kentucky Waterfall mentality here. They’re so aftraid of being cheated by the Liberal Fraternity of Arts venues that they carry their wet coats and umbrellas into the house with them in order to avoid using the free coat check service. Well, there is tip jar on the counter I suppose, but it IS voluntary after all. No, they just don’t want to take the chance of accidentally supporting some kind of orgiastic, homo-friendly, leftist organization with their dollars.

Of particular note was the character who brought his video camera along in order to tape little Suzie’s slut-o-matic rendition of KC & the Sunshine Band’s Celebration. The sign outside states, "No videotaping of tonight’s performance allowed. Orders are being accepted for copys [sic] of the video being produced at tonight’s performance" or some such gibberish. Regardless, golf-shirt boy seemed to think he could just mosey on in with his camera.

However, the ticket taking folks would not let him through the lobby with the obvious, oversized, 1989 era video camera. His only option being to check it with me, coatcheck boy. Perhaps I did not look trustworthy this evening, or maybe he thinks there is a high demand for decrepit video cameras – who knows? At any rate, he was quite hesitant to leave the camera with me although he finally made the choice to see the show instead of clutch his recording device.

Fezboy! had the thought run through his head that he should, perhaps, have filmed his hairy, bare ass for about fifteen minutes while he had possession of the camera. Caution proved to win the day however, and no ass filming amatuer pornography took place. Fezboy! regrets this error now since golf-shirt-kahki boy failed to leave a gratuity in appreciation for his returned (unmolested) decrepit video recording device.

I like to drink lots of lukewarm, extra-strong coffee in a short period of time. If the coffee is strong enough, you will actually get the shakes. The associated euphoria also sparks some exciting creative thinking. If nothing else – it’s a cheap, easy, and legal high.

Trying to come up with two designs this weekend. Black Fez Productions, Conglomerated needs a new look and a bit of content. Something that can either sell BFP or sell Fezboy! to a design firm here in Flowertown. I’m getting quite comfortable with CSS layout and X-browser compatibility.

I also want to start work on my E-zine this summer. Popular Cynicism will convey attitude and stylings in a cynical manner. Sort of a non-partisan political rag that also points out the idiocy of American/Western culture and lifestyle. However it will also serve as a platform to showcase my abilities as a designer and administrator of a fairly complex media site.

Of course, this is all silly optimism . . .

Fezboy! just had his ass handed to him in a friendly game of Scrabble.® A good game that did not feature so many extraordinary words, but ordinary words played extraordinarily.

Final score:

Wife of Fezboy 296
Fezboy! 254

The Thunderchicken is no more.

The automobile that has ferried Fezboy!’s wife for longer than he has known her himself went belly up last evening. There is some sadness in Fezdom today, but not so much as one might think. Yes, the Almighty Fez has pulled off one of the more ironical events of the past few years.

You see, we put the car up for sale yesterday. I think the Thunderchicken just didn’t want to go on under new management and so it had a massive coronary on Jordan Avenue, just north of University. We are spared the pain of selling the TC on the one hand, but no long stand to receive a needed cash infusion on the other.

Oh well. Just goes to show you I guess. What, I’m not sure, but you have been shown nonetheless.

All reports have the birthday coming off as a success. We’re old now, don’t do a whole lot anymore, so there was not the vigorous feztivization that might have occurred years earlier. Instead, Wife of Fezboy! fielded calls from all over the U.S. of A. from well-wishers and celebrants. Better gift than Fezboy! could muster all on his lonesome.

Today we continue the birthday feztivities with a bit of local theater. In that vein I finally completed one of the two outstanding (in more ways than one) reviews so that I will not fall too far behind. Tomorrow is the drive-in! Woo Hoo!!

For now though, it is work and then mentoring. I caved in and purchased a "parting gift" for my kidlet. I hope he isn’t too disappointed with the scholastic nature of the items, but I am his mentor after all. What should he expect?

Unbinding Isaac was the latest production of the Redmoon Theater. This company is what theater is all about in my book. Geeeawd it’s tasty theater.

The show is a meditation on the biblical story of Abraham who, for those of you who did not have to suffer through endless hours of catechism, was the bloke who was told to off his son as an offering by and for God. Abraham was a dutiful sort of chap and had his son bound and the knife sharpened before God said "Okay, that’s enough buddy. I was only kidding." His son, Isaac, survives the ordeal and goes through a lifetime of counselling to get over the shocking horror.

Well, that’s how I remember it from my catechism days anyway. I’m sure Billy Graham might have a few issues with the interpretation provided.

The play, though, places Isaac in the relative present and follows his train of thought as he considers the value of sacrificing his own pleasure to benefit others who are in greater need. Peter Singer would have gotten a lot out of the moral of this production.

Anywho – the most incredible part about this play was the fact that Isaac had exactly one line and that came as the curtain was falling at the end. The entire production to that point was Isaac and three spectre-like women, all named Magritte, interacting via some outstanding choreography, shadow puppets, and Isaac himself running through his daily routines in a manner patterned after the great Buster Keaton. Words cannot do this play justice because its message was delivered by a series of images. The choreography was meticulous, the acting tremendous, and the lasting impression continues to reverberate between my ears.

The set was another creative marvel. It was simultaneously simple and complex. The imagery laden pieces were sparse, but strikingly detailed, something like Edward Hopper would do as an eleven year-old. Panels that slid out from the eaves were incorporated into the choreography and as the characters played out their string on stage, they were involved in changing the set for each scene in a way that did not leave the audience thinking, "Act I, Scene 2." It just flowed from Isaac’s studio, to the street below, to the bus, to work, to the pub, and back home. Work was exceptionally cool as two Magrittes had these awesome fold-out desks and pretended to talk using the perennially silly, "hum-in-a hum-in-a, hmmm, uh-huh, uh-huh?, hmmm" phraseology.

And, oh, the kite scene. . . yes. . . Okay, I’m back.

Equally stunning was the treatment of Sarah, who was Isaac’s mother – again for the catechismically impaired. No one really ever addresses what had to have gone through her mind when she found out ol’ hubby had been up in the mountains with her son, ready to gut him because the dog told him to. This isn’t to say that Sarah wasn’t a pious woman, but it’s been Fezboy!’s experience that chicks tend to be pretty protective of their offspring. Kudos to Redmoon for touching on this angle.

So, needless to say, Unbinding Isaac was exceptional, as is everything Redmoon Theater does. Do not miss another production they put on or else Fezboy! will "Send ’round the boys."

Coming soon, Fezboy! reviews Wit

It has not been another quiet week here at the SOL. There are two redesign projects that hang over my head in an "impending doom" sort of way and I just got handed another graphics request.

Okay, so I admit it. I don’t have the greatest of skill when it comes to designing graphics. It is something I work on, but I don’t think I will ever venture much beyond the pedestrian kind of things you will find on this site. Furthermore, the constraints and directions I work under leave me with no room and too much room respectively and simultaneously. Suckfest!

Okay, enough venting for now. Back to the grind.

BTW – I IM’ed with my old roommate and chum from my Great American Floodplain days for the first time this afternoon. So all that stuff about impending deadlines and doom, I suppose it has a little to do with my side pursuits after all . . .

I can still gripe though, can’t I?