They say that familiarity breeds contempt. Which would explain why they also say silence is golden. Of course, I've often said that it can fuck me up from time to time, but that isn't to say I don't wish for it at times, and even at this late hour there is that particular ambience that painfully resonates between my temples when I have this sort of headache. When I'm in a rut such that I am now I get the idea that the whir of the CPU fan, the hum of the monitor, the moaning of the refrigerator, the clicking of the keyboard and mouse beneath my fingertips, and my own skull are conspiring against me. In truth I probably just didn't drink enough water. I guess I was wary of fluoridation.

I have to point you towards Shayna's post. She may disagree in my assesment, but it only confirms in my mind that she's a hero. It got me thinking. Oftentimes we only find out who we really are when faced with a nightmare. I know I can't be quite certain who I am. Part of me is desperate to find out. Another part fears what it would take to meet me, and fears even more just who the man in the mirror may be after a truly horrible day. There has to be another way, right? If not, then we're faced with the issue quantam physicisists have been dealing with from day one: The outcome is changed in the measurement. So I don't know what to hope for. But I do know what to dread.


It looks like Bush is flexing his Orwellian muscle again. There was a time when I felt satisfaction when things crumbled around Bush. That was back when we weren't stuck with him for another four years. Before it became apparent in the minds of middle Americans that a vote for Kerry was a vote for abortion; for sodomy, and against our troops (despite the fact that he was the one among the two of them who was actually in a war) and I realized what should have been apparent all along, that our country and perhaps our world is overrun with a cruel, vindictive stupidity and ignorance and those willing to fight back are often either ill-supported or ill-armed to deal with it. Before election day when Bush fucked up he failed his constituents. Now he fails the rest of us as well, even those of us who knew the consequences of a second term. Suffice to say, all right minded people of America ought to know that there is shit to do between now and 2006; between now and 2008, and the least we can do is Bring It On.

A side note. Fuck you, South Dakota.

If you can't tell, I surf the net as I blog. That last bit flared up my aformentioned headache. I'ma get some Ibeprophen up ins and call it a night.

I wrote something last night. In my absentmindedness, I lost it.

The long and the short of it was basically that my legs are killing me again (so much for the MRIs coming up negative), I saw a phenominal play on Thursday for five bucks, and I need to write more.

Before I go any further though, a couple of PSAs.

The lovely Alice has lost control of her blogger address yet again, and has relocated to a wordpress domain. Let your bookmarks and links show that Wonderland or Not is now located at www.wonderlandornot.net. And if you have no bookmarks or links that would reflect it? What the hell is wrong with you? READ IT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE

Courting Destiny, written by the sublime and astounding Pia Savage, has been nominated for a Koufax Award (I'll admit that the first thing I thought of when I heard that was baseball). It should go without saying that she has my endorsement (for what its worth), but just in case:

I endorse Pia Savage's Courting Destiny for the Koufax Award for Best Writing Blog.

Anyways, as I have little to say about my legs besides the fact that they hurt and that sucks. Especially since I had to walk goddamned five miles to see the play. Of course, the company was good (5 others from my Acting class, all awesome).

The play? absolutely brilliant. It's hard to explain without summarizing, and I hate doing that, but here goes. It's called Flesh and Blood. It's the story of a family living in the suburbs of New York and the many unexpected and blood-boiling (for the parents- eg: "my son is gay and my daughter has an illegitemate child whose godmother is a drag queen! ARRRGH!") turns. The fabric of the play is either realism with surrealism woven in or the other way around. I'm not sure. In any case, every actor waiting in the wings (well, not wings per se, it was a sort of theater in the round) served as a sort of chorus that spoke in the voice of a kind of collective subconscious. I'm not quite sure if I've done much to explain it, but the play was fantastic and if I thought there was any hope of it I'd suggest that you all see it. The cool part was I only had to pay five dollars to see it. Thursday is "pay what you can" night at the BCA.

In case you haven't notice, nothing new has been here since Tuesday. I need to stop this. Its not like I've had anything I've had to do, or I haven't been at the computer. It's just that I haven't been writing. And I need to be. Earlier in the life of this blog I would from time to time write short stories and put them here. There's been nothing new added in ages. It's because I haven't written any. And I should be. And I should be writing a play. And the only way to get in gear for those is to put my fingers on the keyboard and make words. That was the primary purpose I had in mind when I started this. Then people started reading, and thus was another purpose formed. And I'm failing in both purposes. Speaking of failing, I utterly failed to notice that the anneversary of Hunter S Thompson's death was Monday. Last year when I heard he had died last I wrote this. I think I'll write some Gonzo tonight or tomorrow both as a tribute and as maybe a means of getting back in gear.

This would be a lot easier if my laptop hadn't died. I had a folder full of half-done writings that I could have revisited. But it's dead and that means I need. And there's a notebook I've been trying to track down. But it comes down to the fact that I absolutely need to be doing this. And I don't know how I've managed to forget that so often.

Before I forget. March 30th is Mitch Hedburg Day. It is a day set aside for the use of as many Mitch Hedburg quotes as possible. I think that I'm going to cook up something special for it here, so be sure to stop by.

Ok, I think that's it for now.

Before I begin I'd like to point you here. photos of the first few microseconds of an atomic blast, if you're interested

In case anyone was wondering about the title, it comes from Cream lyrics. I don't know if I've mentioned at all how awesome the new(ish) Cream dvd is, but if I have before it bears repeating. That seeing that dvd again was likely the pinaccle of my weekend is another matter (the botched plans were probably my fault). For the benefeit of anyone whom I haven't made abundantly aware of this, I can't get enough Eric Clapton. The prevailing body of opinion amongst hipsters is that Cream was when he rocked the hardest, which is a notion I have a hard time arguing against. Of course, the fact that most of the people I roll with only acknowledge his Cream years means that any discussion of Clapton is, well, short. His "Cream years?" there were two of them. Clashing egos were the band's ruination. And this was a band that featured the indisputed best drummer and only somewhat disputed best guitarist of the day. So naturally, when the band does a reunion forty years at the Royal Albert Hall, there is a run on the box office. And for good reason. Those guys still rock so hard.

And they've said that they want to do a US tour in 06. So let this be a warning. If I at any point in this calander year go absolutely fucking nuts in this space you have, well, one possible cause. I'm not going to say there aren't others.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. One of the first readers to this site has recently made her triumphant return and I have yet to welcome her back fo-... well okay, maybe "formally is not a word that can be used to describe anything I do here. Anyways, welcome back Sammy.

Class now *groan*. More later

On March 25th Boston College is going to hold a 24 hour theater competition. The way it works is this: An as of yet undetermined number of teams will each be given the topic for a play. In 24 hours, they will write, produce, and perform original plays.

What, you might ask, does this have to do with me? Well, I've been selected as a judge.

I'm a bit apprehensive. Let me tell you why.

The panel of judges is basically a who's who of Boston Theater

...and me

This is being justified by my judge's seat being called that of the "peer judge." But nonetheless, I'm still being presented, in at least some sense, as being on the level with the rest of the judges. And there will be people I know in attendance. People who know that I'm not, well, qualified.

Of course, I'm more than able to judge well. There's an important distinction between able and qualified. Able means you can do something. Qualified means that people will ask you to do it. Most sitcoms have covered the potential peril involved with this sort of thing.

It's not that I mind being put up on a pedestal. I'm an actor. It's part of the job description. It's the engraving on the plaque that troubles me. I wouldn't have a problem if it said "Pretty Ok Guy." But if it says, "Theater Expert," problems exist that could be run into. Given my recent run of luck with things like this, they are likely. And in any case, the least that can happen is that I'll catch flak from the people who know that I probably have no business being there.

I'm going through with it anyways, of course. I promised my friend, who set the whole business up. Anyways, even should the worst happen, I'm pretty sure it'll make a hilarious story. And of course I get to suck up to a bunch of people who are extremely well-connected to the theater scene hereabouts.

You will all, of course, be kept informed should anything occur that is worth retelling.

So, V-Day... Mine was pretty much uneventful.

Well, actually that's not true. I did flirt with a classmate only to find out that she was married. And then I met this guy who basically went on to tell me all the sorts of things that you tend not to tell people when you first meet them if there isn't something seriously wrong (details about crazy mother, attempted suicide, having dated (and bedded) sisters at the same time who would time and again make out with one another).

Oh, and also I saw a woman flip out because someone said the word "pregnant."

But all that can be filed under, "general shit that happens in my every day existance." I swear I have no clue how I find these people. Maybe there's a sign on my back that says, "feel free to test this guy's tolerance for the insanely weird."

Before I forget: Pia, I can't seem to get beyond the cuts on your blog so that's why I've been absent of late.

Anyways.

Surprised, anyone?


Also, this is something that in a past life I hoped to be working on. Back when I thought I was going to be an engineering student at MIT. I swear, sometimes life provides a better punchline than any I can make.

Oh yeah, Tim Burton has in an interview with Ain't it Cool News expressed interest in directing a film version of Sweeny Todd. This simply must happen.

Oh yeah, that's what I was going to talk about. I finally got around to seeing Rent on dvd. As a theater student I guess I was expected to have seen the stage show. Now I know why. That show rocks hard, and should resonate with everyone at some level. And the musical numbers? Genius. The Tango Maureen blew me away, and of course I thought of Miz B when I heard La Vie Bohemé.

And what makes the dvd even more worthwhile is the documentary in the special features about Jonathan Larson, who wrote it, and died soon after he gave an interview for the New York Times, which would give his play the review that would set it off. His story can be found here. For my part, its as touching and inspirational story as is told in the play, and knowing Larson's story makes Rent just that much more meaningful. As a writer I can only hope that I could leave behind something as meaningful. As an actor I can only imagine what it would have meant to take the stage under those conditions, and that they all rose to the occasion on opening night is a validation of my personal stage ethic.

there might be an influx of activity here today and tommorrow as I'm pretty much free. For now I'm going to play with Ophelia for a bit and maybe watch some scenes from Rent again.

A certain rockstar diva said a while back that she was disappointed in her lack of snowfall.

Shayna, you can have half of mine or more if you want it. All you need is a freezer truck and some free time. Over a foot of it fell the other night and yet another negative about living at home in a house as opposed to in the city in an apartment is all the gorram shoveling.

Watched some Olympics, of course. I wasn't very psyched about it at first but I've gotten into it after a day or so. Snowboarding is an awesome thing to watch, and Shaun White's crazy moves on the halfpipe make me wish I could handle one of those things. In fact, I've really got to get my ass in gear if I'm ever going to get into all of the alternative sports I want to. I mean, I have no idea how I'm going to manage learning to hang-glide, and that's to say nothing of Parkour (seriously you need to check that stuff out... It's goddamned incredible), or The Great Outdoor Fight (ok, so that's not a real sport but still)

Also, Dick Cheny shot a guy. I hear he was hiding weapons of mass destruction

Turns out that last post was number 200. Go me, I guess.

I've posted on Absurdity Jam, if you like that sort of thing.

Shayna has written a story that...well, check it out.

Looks like the plot is thickening yet again in the case of Scooter Libby

I'm not sure how many of you are hip to it, but the recent run of Achewood has been bleedin' hilarious.

That's all for now

If I hear one more reference to a "wardrobe malfunction" I am going to lose it.

It's almost as if broadcasters needed their own catchphrase that could carry the tone of the tried and true "in this post-9/11 world."

Janet Jackson's breast was exposed. For what was little more than a second. Get over it.

It wasn't a life-changing moment. It wasn't the disaster it was purported to be.

It wasn't even that great of a breast.

That any of you would consider this to be some turning point for the broadcast media is, to understate, quite pathetic. Seriously. All of you network censors who lost their shit over this? You're not invited to my birthday party. Fuck you.

Oh yeah, there was a football game tonight. For the first time in about as long as I can remember, I didn't really pay much attention to the game. I was chatting with Alice until the Stones came on and then I watched most of the second half, which was actually a pretty cool way of spending the evening. Also, MacGyver was in a Mastercard commercial, and that was awesome. I was kind of disappointed that the Seahawks lost but I was neither emotionally nor financially (the only game I regret not betting on was Colts-Patriots in the playoffs last year because I was certain of the outcome before kickoff and could have raked in heck of Benjamins due to the fact that I was in a city filled with Patriots detractors ) invested in the game, so whatever.

Oh. Before I forget, take a look at this. It's pretty fucking scary, but it needs to get out there.

Some fucker hacked Alice's blog. She's recooping at this spot on wordpress.

I can't fucking say how much this boils my blood, even beyond the fact that one of my favorite blogs, written by one of my favorite people, has been compromised.

I am a writer. Or at least, I try to be.

Anyone who fucks with what I write had better hope that they're on witness protection. It's that simple.

There are some basic rules of interacting with people that decent and civilized people take for granted. You don't mess with their car or house, You don't mess with their family, you don't mess with their friends, you don't mess with their s/o, and you sure as shit don't FUCKING MESS WITH THEIR WORK. The fuckers who can't get a grip on that are below my mention. To channel some HST, "I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck Them.

There's one person who's crossed that line with me, and he has no idea how greatful he should be that I never found out who he was.

I was writing a one-act play for my high school dramatics society my senior year. I was working on my last draft at the school's computer lab and was just about done when someone, I forget who and for what reason, diverted my attention and I left the keyboard. I came back, and printed out what I thought to be my final draft, and turned it in ten minutes later in class. A couple of days later, it came back with red ink in various places. I read it over. Entire passages were missing, and at arbitrary, nonsensical points profanity was inserted. It read like I was suffering from some sort of manual Tourette's. It turned out that someone had sat down at the computer I'd vacated and vandalized my work. As a result, my play wasn't even considered for performance. I was livid.

There is a cruel, brutal side to me. You've probably seen it surface from time to time, and in fact it's a driving force of my sense of humor. But for the most part, it's benign. In general, I'm a peaceable sort of guy. It takes a lot for that part of me to show itself fully. Suffice to say, that guy was lucky.

So, love and hugs to Alice. Don't let the cretins get you down.

That playing basketball with people who are faster than you when you already have a cold is a draining activity? I am exhausted. I'm going to bed early (1:35 AM) Excepting this one, there will be no post tonight. I know, you're devastated, but don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to find some way to deal with my ailment. I'll be back soon, I promise.

Until then, courage.

Seriously. Why should I bother watching the State of the Union when I know exactly what it's going to be? We all knew that Bush was going to try and dig himself out of a PR hole by mentioning the need to shake off our oil addiction (no shit), and he's lost all credibility for matters concerning science and education. I mean, right in the middle of his speech about support for scientific innovation he revisited his opposition to science that could one day result in a cure for cancer. And we fucking know what happens when he announces an education initiative.

There was a brief shining moment when the Democrats got to their feet and cheered when he mentioned the failure of his social security plan, but it passed quickly

He didn't address the real issue of the night: Why the bloody fuck should I have to miss Commander in Cheif and Boston Legal for this tepid shit?