I was much enamored with the lead article in the Washington Post Magazine last weekend. Nutshell: Joshua Bell, hottie and genius of the classical music world, busks at L'enfant metro stop one morning, to the approbation of a statistically insignificant few. Sadness. I wonder what I would have done in a similar situation. The same situation would have never happened to me, as I never get up that early and my work schedule is flexible and doesn't require much of a commute. A lot of people have been writing in to Gene, saying that they were moved to tears and reflection on their own (and American, particularly Washingtonian, society in general) "can't stop, no time, musn't be distracted by the roses" mentality. As someone who has been described many times as "childlike," knowing myself to be eminently distractable, and noting that music (and the shiny!) attracts me like not much else, I want to think that I would have been one of the few, not necessarily enlightened, but appreciative folks who stopped to add a moment of extrinsic beauty to my life. (Or maybe I would have recognized him, as I used to Sigh! over him with the string section girls back in my orchestra days and I've seen/heard him play several times.) I do think I'm a person that allows herself to find small joys and transcendent moments in ordinary living - I just haven't been doing much of it lately. While the article did make me pause and contemplate my own, somewhat-drab-if-I-don't-actively-prevent-it, life, I wasn't exactly inspired to run for the hills to embrace the sound of nature's music (well, mostly because of the pollen) so much as resolve to engage in more of the art forms I've laid by the wayside in favor of lounging in front of the almighty (even though cableless!) TV. Baby steps, right? For example, I am kicking myself hard for looking away from the Library of Congress concert schedule for just one second and missing his free concert.
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I want to eat here. I am somewhat scared of being underwater, but that looks amazing - enough to risk being trapped and perhaps eaten by sharks.
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This is a mite tedious, but very, very funny. I can't wait until the iPhone is unleashed!
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The first season of Friday Night Lights is over. I say first because, while it hasn't yet been announced as renewed, no one in upper management (even at NBC) who has actually seen the show could ever think of canceling it - it's just too good. I pretty much hate football, didn't care for the movie (and this is back in the days where I sort of - for shame!- liked Da Beek), and haven't read the book, but the series has been sheer perfection for portraying small town Americana. They pack so much believable and enjoyable character development for a whole host of archetypal characters that they've raised cinematic, serialized television to a whole new level. If I can take the shaky, hand-held camera work that brings so much immediacy and intimacy to the scenes, anyone can. Sure it's cheezy; it can be predictable; but it's beautiful. All the episodes are up online here. Go watch!!!!
So I started by saying I want to watch less TV, then pimped out more TV, but I didn't find the two positions to be contradictory. Anything that makes you laugh, cry, and think - about it, about your own life, about others, about the world at large- enriches life. I won't argue about whether something is "art;" (except feces! on canvas! is NOT art!) I just know that I want to have more enriching (in my mind, artful) experiences in my life than I currently do.
(Also, the season is nearly over, so I'm almost safe from the predation and joys of network TV. Summer is a great time for art!)
(Oh, and Happy Friday the 13th!!! Mwahahahahaha.)
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