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Jeremy's Ramblings, Babblings, and Other Pretentious Bullshit.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
 

So, for the first time since 1997, the Pulitzer Prize committee chose not to award a Prize for Drama. Christopher Durang's "Miss Witherspoon", Rolin Jones' "The Intelligent Design of Jenny Chow" and Adam Rapp's "Red Light Winter" were all finalists, but none were considered worthy enough to award $10,000.

Granted, the eligibility period this year was only for nine months as opposed to the usual full year (which cut David Lindsay-Abaire's "Rabbit Hole", a clear favorite, out of the running). But it's also saying something that there wasn't a significant American play to open in the nine-month period. At this point, your eyes should be glazing over and your head should be nodding, despite the intensity and excitement from the rough-and-tumble world of Pulitzer eligibility.
Hmm, $10,000. Sounds nice.

So, this past week, I participated in a series of poetry readings at the Hunger Artists theatre. It is in celebration of National Poetry Month (since every month is officialy National *PUT CELEBRATORY THING HERE* Month, I'm going to make a National Gable Month. Perhaps May). I found a Robert Frost piece that I liked, and my sis found a great Billy Collins poem about having a hangover that she asked me to read.

Not having been a particular fan of poetry for, oh let's say, twenty-four years, I was surprised to find how much I connected to several of the pieces.

There was a Hans Ostrom piece about Elvis Presley and Emily Dickinson hanging out in Heaven together. There was a poem about marriage in which the protagonist spoke in random word pairings like "Christmas Teeth! Radio Belly! Penguin Dust!" There was another Billy Collins piece about the popular fads of past centuries (such as the popular game Find the Cow). There was a great Henry Rollins poem that says the word love "gets raped in the ass by a thousand convicts before it reaches what I feel for you", and ends by saying, "I wish I could sing like that guy from Boston. They rock like fuck!" And there were two fantastic original poems from our Company Manager Emily Brauer-Rogers and my sister (I'm leaving out Kelly Flynn's readings of vampire poetry and a piece by Jewel because, though his readings were quite inspired, the source material blew).

In fact, I found myself so inspired that the last night of the readings, I recited a little piece I had written a few hours before:


DEBRA MESSING'S SHOPPING LIST
by Jeremy Gable

Buttermilk
Pumpkin pie filling
Turkey breast (ULTRA Thin Sliced)
Sandals
SOS pads
Happiness
Massengill
Shasta Cola
Peanut butter (LOTS of peanut butter)
Someone who will love me for what I hide, instead of what I convey
DVD Copy of "The Wedding Date"
Tillamook cheddar cheese
Some kind of significant acting award
Pears
Swedish Fish (two bags)
Sunny D
O.J.
The Purple Stuff
To never be referred to ever again as Grace
A goldfish named Oliver Clozoff
Vicodin
Lettuce
Boo Berry Crunch (if not available - Cookie Crisp)
The ability to make my fans cry
The ability to make those I love smile
Napkins
A significant acting gig for my husband, not just guest spots on “Ned & Stacey”
To be one of the 50 Most Beautiful People again
To walk into a press junket and speak only in flag signals
To be with the one I truly love, Bebe Neuwirth
To tell Annette Bening to her face that “The Cherry Orchard” sucked and she sucked in it
To stop doing voice-overs
To make my little boy want to be with his mommy
To go back to the days when I was doing productions of “Angels in America”
To be truly, truly loved
Paper plates

And get it right this time, Rosita. I’m not paying you to buy Malt-O-Meal.


And on a final note, I am currently watching old episodes of the greatest robot daughter sitcom to come out of the '80's, "Small Wonder". YouTube rocks!


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aren't yOu going to post your weekly reviews of the YPF? or did you not attend this year?
 
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