Office by Alex Penny
"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song." - Maya Angelou
I tweeted yesterday that I fractured my ankle, but didn’t really give any details, so here goes. My wife and kids and I are visiting my parents in St. Louis. We went to an awesome place called the City Museum downtown (citymuseum.org).
We were having a great time in their “skateless park” (a collection of ramps and quarter pipes you can run around on), when I decided to run up a short quarter pipe. When I got to the top I started to lose my balance. I ran back down the pipe, and when I got to the bottom, I stepped wrong and rolled my ankle. I heard a pop, and jumped up on my good foot screaming “I think I need to go to the hospital.”
The crew at City Museum were amazing, and they got an ambulance there and got me taken care of as quickly as they could. After a couple of hours at the hospital, the diagnosis was a small fracture.
What a way to start a vacation!
“cool. story. bro.”
OMG REBLOG THIS & LOOK AT UR BLOG ITS COMPLETELY DIFERENT
Me
iM CHIR YING BC THE WAY IT LOOKS ON YOUR BLOG SEND HELP
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EDIT***:
WHATTHE HELL.
(Source: jesscookie, via cupcakes-bitches-and-hoes-deact)
My 30 day musical theatre challenge posts have been derailed for the last few days, because in my 5 person family, we have 5 cases of strep throat, an ear infection and a double ear infection. I’m hoping to put something new up today.
(Source: cursim, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
30 Day Musical Theatre Challenge
Day 11 - A Favorite Comic Number
Being a Sondheim fan, there aren’t many comic songs better than the opening to A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. “Comedy Tonight” contains some of Sondheim’s most clever lyrics, and they are all put to very good use, setting up the farce that is to come.
With the Republican National Convention in full swing and the Democrats on deck, my thoughts turn to this satiric number from the 1956 musical Li’l Abner.
Abner and Marryin’ Sam (Peter Palmer and Stubby Kaye, respectively) return from Washington DC to Dogpatch and fill the rest of the town in on how the federal government is running. Johnny Mercer’s lyric feels like it could have been written yesterday.
Even though it was high school (read: a million years ago), Marryin’ Sam is still one of the most fun roles I’ve had on stage.
30 Days of Musical Theatre Challenge
Day 10 - A favorite 11 o’clock Number
I’m past the point where I should be playing Sky Masterson, and I’m not sure I really care to play Nathan Detroit. Nicely Nicely Johnson is one of my dream roles, because who wouldn’t want to sing “Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat”? Definitely one of those classic numbers that wakes the audience up as you’re heading toward the end of the show.
This is worth a reblog.
I don’t care who you are or what kind of blog you have. This should always be reblogged.
(Source: , via fill-your-life-with-sound)
Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel — only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, love him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability.
[….]
Sinatra’s intonation, precisely clipped, yet full and flowing, gave a deeper meaning to the simple lyrics — “In the wee small hours of the morning/while the whole wide world is fast asleep/you lie awake, and think about the girl….” — it was like so many of his classics, a song that evoked loneliness and sensuality, and when blended with the dim light and the alcohol and nicotine and late-night needs, it became a kind of airy aphrodisiac. Undoubtedly the words from this song, and others like it, had put millions in the mood, it was music to make love by, and doubtless much love had been made by it all over America at night in cars, while the batteries burned down, in cottages by the lake, on beaches during balmy summer evenings, in secluded parks and exclusive penthouses and furnished rooms, in cabin cruisers and cabs and cabanas — in all places where Sinatra’s songs could be heard were these words that warmed women, wooed and won them, snipped the final thread of inhibition and gratified the male egos of ungrateful lovers; two generations of men had been the beneficiaries of such ballads, for which they were eternally in his debt, for which they may eternally hate him. Nevertheless here he was, the man himself, in the early hours of the morning in Beverly Hills, out of range.
"—
Frank Sinatra Has a Cold by Gay Talese. Esquire Magazine, April 1966.
http://www.esquire.com/features/ESQ1003-OCT_SINATRA_rev_
(via sinatragal)
