|
We're off to dinner
down the road, back to The Rockland Cafe. Jay and Bob are up
front; I'm in the backseat with Ethel Merman. Jay has got her
cranked up to eleven, and she's belting out - what else? - "There's
No Business Like Show Business" like it's her only business.
Then we pile out and head for All-You-Can-Eat Ribs, but I pass
on that mess and settle for Chicken Capellini, which finally
arrives with just enough pasta, just enough chicken, broccoli
and tomatoes. And garlic (pity the poor cat.) Just enough food.
(Have you noticed how huge restaurant food has been lately? I
sure have - and I hate the waste.) Washed it all down with a
beer or two.
If you know Jay,
you know that The American Musical Theater is his life's passion.
He knows everything, every little bit of it. He knows history,
lyrics, set design, backstage gossip. (Why is this man not teaching
American Musical Theater?) Back in high school, he infected me
with this enthusiasm for awhile. I bought records and stumbled
through ornamental parts in Carnival and Cindy.
I recovered at university with daily injections of Joplin, Hendrix,
Dylan, and Neil Young (lots of Neil Young). I flushed musicals
from my system with massive doses of Beckett and Pinter. So I
got over them pretty much, but I have to admit that a little
of the old infection lingers. Does this explain my interest in
Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, and Rufus Wainwright? Could be.
To this day I will assert that show tunes done well are a valid
art form - and can be pleasant enough when taken in moderation.
Corn is a necessary ingredient.
So I could let myself
hang out tonight because I got a lot of work done over the past
two days. I knocked off the semester exams yesterday and the
freshman essays today. They were not too painful, and I got to
read wonderful pseudo-sentences like
Another thing everyone
is curious about one thing or another so they take it apart sometimes
they accomplish there goal and figure out how it works and sometimes
they don't and then when you have to put it back together again
you can't and now you're in trouble.
and
Friday came along
and was going OK and then came lunchtime, and this one girl that
I have been fighting with ever since she decided to steel my
boyfriend from right under me.
(By the way, if you
want to read some neat student bits and get another teacher's
take on student composition, go see Amy's entry for December
1, which
I just discovered yesterday.) Tomorrow I'll try to process the
odds and ends of stray assignments and finalize semester grades
in time to meet some young men from the south.
|