Had a really fun night last night. Went to Philly with Chris, Brian and Katie to eat dinner at Pagoda and see Big Fish at the Ritz. Afterwards we hit Cosi to get some s'mores and to feel trendy... it was a great night. I really love those Turner boys, and Katie rocks like no other.
Hanging out in Philly last night made me realize that I don't think I could live back in Phoenix full-time. Perhaps it was because last night was a particularly warm night, so walking around the city wasn't the least bit uncomfortable... but Philly seems to be the exact right size for me. Not too huge like NYC, but not too small like Phoenix. It's clearly got that east-coast flavor and pulse that I crave; no palm trees or rolled-up sidewalks after 10pm. I like the way it's laid out, I love the history, I dig the cobblestone streets, I like the fact that there's parking, I like being close to the water, I love South Street, I like cheesesteaks, I like Broad Street, I love the street musicians and the way the city smells. There's a certain pride people have when they're from Philly, and I can't help but feel that pride myself, which doesn't make a tremendous amount of sense considering how little time I spend within its limits. I feel safe there-- infinitely safer than I do in Phoenix, or even downtown Wilmington for that matter.
Don't get me wrong. I also love that Philly is 30 minutes from me. I don't think I'd wanna live in the city proper, (though I could imagine worse places to be).
Anyway, we saw Big Fish last night. I feel a little blue-balled emotionally, because it was an overwhelming tearjerker and I didn't feel like I could really cut loose like I needed to. I love Tim Burton, man. (OK, except for Planet of the Apes and Batman Forever.) And I've said it before... Jessica Lange is the most beautiful human being in the world. She is radiant... downright luminous. My God. Anyhoo, I implore you to go see it, if only for the last 15 minutes alone. I'd like to expound on the movie, but its too much to type. Just trust that it's a beautiful thing to behold, and it's just wonder-full and magical like only Tim Burton can do. Go see.
I love seeing movies at The Ritz. They give you a filmbill which is very well written and aesthectially quite pleasing, the audience is overall very courteous and smart, you can get coffee, and the seat rows are spaced with a little extra depth so people can maneuver without you getting a face full of patron-ass. Can't think of any way to improve the Ritz theatergoing experience.
In other news... I auditioned for Little Shop of Horrors tonight at City Theatre in Wilmington. The audition was simple-- I only had to sing. No reading, and no dance (thankfully). The audtion notice asked for either a '50s/'60s pop song, or a non-Sondheim showtune. I was originally gonna sing "Son of a Preacher Man" but the sheet music I had for it was really lame, so I decided to go with the trusty "I Don't Know How to Love Him." I figured if I was gonna be considered for Audrey, that song shows off the purty stuff and the scream-your-head-off stuff in one shot. Anyhoo, since I'm just getting over this dumb-ass bout of pneumonia-lite, I was a little worried about singing because I get these totally random coughing fits, moreso when I take big breaths. Alas, adrenaline kicked in and I did a decent job, with only minor trouble supporting really long phrases due to my f'ed up lungs. The coolest thing, however, was that after I sang that song, Joe Trainor (he's the music director, and he's a god) ran up to the stage and said, "Dude, I've gotta hear you sing some Audrey II stuff." I almost wet my pants. So we sang through "Git It (Feed Me)" and it rocked. I could hear the bells of enlightenment ringing over the production staff... I just don't think they really considered a female plant. Anyway, whether I get it or not is irrelevant... just knowing I made them think about it for a moment makes me happy. I'll know if I get called back by the end of this week; I'll keep you posted.
In the last bit of blog... I just wanna say (and this is all I'm gonna say on the topic) is that the doctahrob decision was the total right way to go, and I have nary a regret (well, today, anyway...ha). I'm sure I'll be riding the emotional rollercoaster in upcoming weeks, but as of right now, I feel like the personification of the big ending of A Day in the Life: All that wind-up and then a big fat E-chord wham that eventually decays into nothingness. I was feeling like crap for way too long, and fooling myself that I wasn't. I see it thusly: Big relationship steps, regardless of the direction, are a bit like skydiving. You're scared as hell to do it, you fight and panic and worry and get all nuts... but once someone kicks you out of the plane, and after the initial "holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit", you realize it's fine and actually rather cool. I just feel like a moron for making a production out of the 'fight and panic and worry' and the 'holyshitholyshitholyshit' parts. The plane ride ascent was a wonderful thing, but hell yes my brothers and sisters, hallelujah, I'm loving the zero gravity.
And I do, quite literally, mean zero gravity.