Save Art Anyway You Can

I heard Ohio Theatre was being squeezed out of their space. I went to the website of the folks who bought the building where the Ohio has been for the last 30 years and found a "News" section. They proudly displayed a link from The New York Observer titled: Zar Snags Another Soho Lovely; Theater Group Fears Eviction.
I clicked on it to read more. The journalist states the facts, reporting 'good for Zar; bad for theatre' and quotes language from each company's website - "Zar Property NY has not let the fears of a commercial meltdown or "credit crunch" slow them down."

I decided I had to say my peace anyway I could. So I emailed the President.

"He'll think TWICE before he buys another multi-million dollar property!"

I realize an email is maybe as powerful as flipping off a bomb but I had to do it. I have to start opening my mouth if I want to feel integrity about my beliefs.


And I think I'm a little bored at work.


Dear Dario Zar:

I am not sure I recall having ever written my opinion to a complete stranger before except the time I wrote to Ronald Reagan when I was eight. But I read a story about your acquisition and went to your website. Then I read another article posted in the "News" section of your site. And I just HAD to say this to you. Please know I am typing with compassion for you and all of humanity. "Fears of commercial melt down and credit crunching" do not affect people who base their success on tangible 'acquisitions'. I honestly hope that one day you realize the true value of nurturing our most human element: Art. And I truly hope, for your own guilt and pain that WILL sneak up on you, it is not too late. This will affect something you love. Money is nice and if trophies are what you desire, you could at the very least give to those who are not capable of being like you but give to the world in a different, necessary way. They too must survive in this world. What happens to us when they die? Let the Ohio stay. Hell, it would be better press for you. I have no direct connection with the Ohio. I just performed there once and I just had to say that. Thank you for reading if you got this far.

Jennifer Boutell

...one is silver and the other's gold...

Today is about 'New'. And we really only have that...the 'New'. Every day is about the new. Every second is. We look to the past to inform our choices but the publicist in our own or collective head has his own judgements. Should we 'keep' everything? Garage sale that blue one-piece you only wore to the beach to hang out with your nephews?

I like to do little experiments with myself on the subway. I like to 'check out' of any current mood or situation I might be in, pretend I don't have anywhere to be, anyone to answer to [including myself], and see how I react [inwardly and outwardly] towards my fellow man. I almost always find my heart goes to a giving place. I have a 'feel-good' thought. I try to invoke a 'feel-good' vibe. If someone needs a seat I try to give it to them or if someone speaks to me I try to respond thoughtfully. I'm not saying I'm a saint here. I don't do this often and most of the time I'm pretty much just tired and annoyed with my commute but I have an idea that this 'feel-good' vibe comes from my soul. And that my soul IS this through-line we all call God. And I think if we pause and listen long enough sometimes we are this little tool of 'God' to communicate to one another. I can honestly say, I have only felt I've experienced this connection twice in my life. I'm quite positive that I've been an instrument many other times without realization or with maybe just a residual 'feel-good' feeling... and I KNOW I've heard words I've needed to hear or been around people I needed and it wasn't an accident... but twice in my past I actually FELT that I was being used and I FELT I was literally a part of an immense whole. And I just went with it. And both times were on the train in New York City. And both times involved complete 'strangers'.

I once was sitting on the train stuck in my head, stuck in my own world. I snapped to when I saw a family getting on. A young mother with four or five kids in tow. Stroller, papoose, a little one dangling by his shoulder in her angry grasp while she yelled at each of them a series of cuss words and insults. Bad day. A quiet little boy sat down right next to me and the noisy family filed in next to him. He was very small and probably four or five years old. There was a wisdom on him in his stance and in one second we exchanged this look and he gave me this message I will always carry with me. I'm sure my look to him conveyed some sort of pity [for him, for myself, for mankind...my heart ached...could have just tried on a new swimsuit...but seriously folks...] as soon as our eyes met, I instantly saw a complete grounded, knowing soul and he was just full of, for lack of a better word, true love.

And he smiled.

And I smiled back. And I swear I heard somewhere in my gut, "Everything is OK."

I felt like it always has been and always will be. [Including swim attire.]

The second time I felt as a conduit I was the messenger and as I type this, I'm just now realizing it was the same message. I was on the train several years after the first encounter. There was a pretty, young 20-something sitting across from me just willing herself not to cry. I could see her nose turning red, her lips twisting and her eyes well up. I could see she was trapped in her thoughts. I felt sooooooo compelled to say something..anything to her...to the point where I got kind of sweaty and panicky...my heart was beating fast...I worried if I said anything she would think I was a busy-body or lunatic or trying to pick her up...[the swim suit I was wearing was a little tight....JOKE...] but I couldn't NOT say anything. I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth, I saw my stop was next and the train was slowing down. I stood up and stood next to her while I waited for the train doors to open. I felt this weird rush like you did before you jumped off the high-dive in front of everyone at the community pool and when the train doors opened I turned to her and directly said, "Everything is OK."

And I said it very calmly. With a voice that was so confident and grounded.

And full of true love.

She looked up at me and held her breath and you'd thought I'd just handed her a winning lottery ticket. She literally stood up as I walked away and we watched each other through the window. I smiled and she smiled and I wanted to high-five somebody.

I was recently asked if I believed in God. And this was what I came up with. Today, this 'New' day I'll bet some of those folks standing side-by-side at the very least will carry a 'feel-good' vibe around for a while.

Two Dead and a Concussion: The Name of My Next Band

Twice the in the past two months Greg and I have been on the Long Island Rail Road and heard the following announcement over the PA system:

Do to a pedestrian fatality we will be stopped indefinitely. Buses are en route.

In the silence after those words. Your head goes to strange places.

Man or woman?

Tied to the tracks?

Headphones up too loud?

Dare?

How long did he/she stay alive?

The buses are for us right?

Are they taking us to the mall?

How many buses?

How often does this happen?

Last Saturday night we heard this, the train stopped, the eight inches of snow started and after many frantic phone calls his parents diverted their vehicle to pick us up where we landed. We were headed to a family party. Greg navigated his mother through rights and lefts. We made one wrong turn and BAM!...my vision comes back and I'm laying on my future Father-in-law. He is about the size of my thigh.

I feel like I have a constant hang-over but on the ceiling. Gravity is a bit challenging.

New Campaign for Seat Belts:

Close your eyes and think about your first toilet-hugging hang over. Now imagine that feeling every waking moment of your day because you didn't wear your seat belt.

Concussions feel like a bad hang over that won't go away. Wear your seat belt. Or a helmet. And don't drink and stuff kids.

I hope those two pedestrians are in heaven shaking their fingers at me.

Smile, It is Friday.

Everyone loves Friday.

...except maybe strippers and people who have a bad 'F' stutter.

I happen to be one of the robots who type "TGIF" at the end of most of my emails on this day.

It is universal. Like, I don't know...stuttering strippers working hard on a Friday night.

Mission From God

I've been watching Big Love. What a great show. The first three episodes made me gag but then I was forced into watching the rest and now I find myself humming that tune. I don't even like the Beach Boys. I know that makes me a communist.

What I find most interesting about this show is that it isn't Deadwood, it isn't The Wire, it isn't Twin Peaks or X-Files, The Sopranos or Huff or Six Feet Under but...it kind of is. It has all the elements of a really thoughtful show but it also has the elements of a Lifetime movie-of-the-week. I hear folks around the office talking about this show and I think, "Either nothing else worth 'water-cooler' talk is on, or this show is really hitting a sentimental spot in all of us."

I like to think the latter.

I've noticed many folks were happy to say goodbye to 2008 and are looking forward to giving 2009 a real running start. Even my parents started an exercise program yesterday.

I think we are all ready to believe in the power of something bigger and frankly better than us. And I think that is what Big Love is about. Regardless of how many times a human can take advantage of a good thing...sometimes a good thing is just that. Even if it is an ideal. Why not shoot for the stars?

Every time Barb gets embarrassed about her three anniversaries or Bill lies to deny his beliefs I feel the pain. I feel the difficulty of wearing a dirty, heavy, itchy mask. I think everyone does. But I have to say, "I don't get it."

I still don't quite understand what say our government has in who we partner with. I get the underage thing, I'm not psycho. I don't think kids should be left with ignorant pedophiles. But as I think the show is supposed to do, I relate it to gay marriage, inter-racial marriage, divorce and re-marriage.

Is it just a tax thing?

Can we start a religion to have certain kinds of marriages?

Clearly I don't have a real train of thought going here.

I could EASILY be in the Henrickson home if I could pick my sister-wives and Greg never got to sleep with them.

Get Into The Groove

After lay-offs at work and trying to get the heroin addict kicked out of our basement we settled down for our Long Winter's Nap late in December.

"These holiDAZE we will rest."

"Except we have to plan our wedding."

"Right."

"And schedule all those doctor's appointments to discuss 'family planning'."

"Of course."

"And I should start working out more."

"We all should."

"And write more."

"Uh. Huh."

"And get the papers together for the audit."

"Yep."

"And the new Hotel Room project."

"Sure."

"Catch up on my books. Get a plan together for a new career. Clean out the closet. And sewing. Cook a little more. Take the dog to the vet. New Year's resolutions. Be better."

"Here is the gun."

"Thank you."

I am finding that two weeks paid vacation is absolutely all I dreamt it would be and more. I am feeling more rested, focused, creative and actually looking forward to joining the world again.

After I watch Desperately Seeking Susan.

One. More. Time.

You gotta know when to hold 'em.

While sitting down to a gourmet left-over Thanksgiving dinner, we were being entertained by a story about a certain little girl who'd gotten a spanking earlier that day. This adorable certain little girl was alternately sitting with us at the end of the table enjoying the feast and running over to the piano to practice one side of Heart & Soul. Nobody seemed to flinch that her father's story included a minor beating and yet I remember the time I publicly mentioned I thought spanking a child was a good idea and I think I saw people pulling out their cell phones and dialing CPS. I don't even have a kid.

I was spanked when I was small and so was most of my friends. My cousin got smacks on the face and I know some folks who got their hair pulled and THE BELT. I don't in any way condone child abuse but I've witnessed that a smack on a young butt seems to instantly get a kid to focus instead of turning down the volume on Mary Poppins to explain the dangerous consequences of bolting into traffic. I don't think young minds comprehend the notion of consequences, much less 'danger'.

But again. I don't have kids. I have a dog. That I pat on the butt when he pees on the floor. And he still pees on the floor.

I guess I just think kids should be a little afraid of their parents. Just a little. Just enough to learn things to rebel against so they can learn even more things about themselves and the kind of person they want to be.

Britney Spears needed more spankings. Not the MTV kind. Her over-bearing father should have let her find her way after she shaved her head rather than institutionalizing her and telling people she was mentally ill.

Not only is she ridiculously famous and has had to deal with all that comes with that job...this young woman has had two children with a boy who didn't seem interested in her evolution...and then he left her and tried to take her kids away. The world watched her slide into implosion and self destruction so massive America's sweetheart of pop repeatedly showed all of us her car accidents, her crotch and her middle finger. On purpose.

Pick up the current Rolling Stone and really stare at her spread. There is nothing behind those eyes in any of those photos that suggest everything she has been through has changed her. She is right back where she started. Same blonde locks...only they're extensions...same sexy clothes...only she looks a little too old for them.

I'm sad for her. I know I'm not alone. But there was some little part of me that was rooting for her when she starting flipping off cameras. I realize self destruction is not exactly pleasant for anyone to go through let alone witness happen to a child star, but it seems like that is the M. O. for now and if the people in charge of those little fame factories don't stop over-parenting how can a person fully develop? Let her make her own choices and stop calling them mistakes. Let her pick herself up for once. She doesn't seem very smart but no one is letting her learn anything.

Why is it a "good thing" she is exactly where she was before? Her new album is atrociously empty and downright pathetic. Just like before. I saw the music video to her 'Womanizer' song and my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe the sad irony of her own expression. She is confidently singing about calling out a supposedly well-hidden womanizer while she gives him a lap dance. In an office. Don't get me started.

This is the most famous pop artist we celebrate? What in the world are we celebrating? What is she famous for? Good PR?

Come on Britney. I really really want you to make it. And I don't even like your music. Change the definition of what it means to be...well...you. Teach yourself and everyone who watches you that an ignorant little girl with good looks can do something...else.

But, I don't have a famous kid. I don't really even know anyone famous. Which is probably why I will beat my child and let her shave her head. MENSA will be calling.