The Comfy Corner

1) Movies - Alright, here it is. My confession of June. I am terrible at remembering movies. I can't remember the plots, I can't remember the characters, you're lucky if I even remember that I saw it. This proves to be a very difficult thing in the theatre world because everyone is always striking up a conversation like (fake example coming up), "Oh my god, she's just like Suzy Baker from the movie 'End of the World'" and immediately I am lost. They go on to rave about Suzy's performance and all the other movies she's been in and that one obscure TV show she did and that monologue she gives after her son dies blah blah blah. My brain just doesn't feel the need to retain plot information for large numbers of movies. It's the simple truth of the matter. The plus side? I can watch movies multiple numbers of time and still be surprised/emotional at the ending.

Summertime is a time when I actually find myself with enough hours in the day to do the things I love: reading, playing piano, cooking, and going to the gym. This last one, however, has been ruined as of late by people I would like to call "gym hogs." I was innocently stretching and literally using the tiniest corner of the gym when these bros (they were such bros) came over and started playing basketball on top of me. With an audible "hrmph" I moved my mat to a quieter spot. Minutes later I spot these bros on the other side of the gym throwing weights to the ground with loud grunts. "Typical" I say to myself under my breath. Then, I talk to my friend Derek and he tells me that he was about to use a piece of equipment when one of them came running up and said, "Dude, dude, dude, no you can't use that. We're about to use that." This made me think of a list of things that annoy me about the gym.

Summer is a time for refreshing cold drinks and outdoor adventures. It's a time for iced coffee and sun glasses. It's a time for... smoothies! And today I experienced one of the best, strangest smoothie places ever.

The theme of recent days: babies. My sister called me two days ago with the news that she was pregnant. This will make me a two-time uncle (I already have a nephew #gettingolder). I couldn't be happier for her! Also, at my show the other night we had this little boy come onstage to be a guest speller. HE WAS THE CUTEST LITTLE BOY EVER! Every time he went up to the mic to spell he had to lower it so that he could speak into it. And then he got the word "hederaceous" (an admittedly very difficult word to spell, you can ask my friend Kevin) and, though he tried his hardest, he misspelled it. We then proceeded to sing our "Goodbye Song" to him and he waved goodbye to us the whole way down the aisle. He didn't watch where he was going, he just looked at us and waved goodbye (with a confused/sad look on his face). And it's a pretty lengthy song!

I have a philosophical side that kicks in on a semi-regular basis and questions everything about the world around me. It's especially true when I'm doing the run of a show. I always seem to have a moment when I take a step back and I think about the set, the lights, the audience, the theatre and everything that went into creating this "thing" that would fill the space in between dinner and the train ride home. And I find myself asking, "Is this not the biggest waste of money and space ever?" And I begin to question why I would ever partake in an artform that is so wasteful and so temporary when I could be in some third world country helping to cure disease and feed the hungry or something. "What's the point?" I ask myself. It's all a giant ruse, after all, right? We manufacture this human idea of entertainment and we place value on it. I could hop in my car and drive away and the show would still go on (I'd never be hired there again, but that's beside the point). They would fill my spot somehow. So why bother? The second I hit the stage, though, all of these questions disappear.

The reasoning behind this title: nothing more than I just wanted to talk about Twitter but didn't wanna title the post "Twitter." I suppose it stems from my self imposed need to be creative. Or perhaps my ridiculous obsession with plays on words (old man humor is my forte).

The beach here in Rhode Island is absolutely beautiful! If you stand at the front door to my house, you can here the waves gently crashing in the distance. I've always been a mountain boy. I grew up swimming in rivers and hiking mountains (in addition to sitting on my ass and playing video games and eating Little Debbie cakes of course). The beach was always a far-off, exotic place for me. I craved it and got so excited every time I went. However, now that it's a three minute walk from where I live, I have to say that it's become a little donuts for dinner (sounds like a great idea at the time, but you regret it later). Here are some reasons why.