Last Saturday I lucked up and inherited a pair of tickets to hear David Sedaris read some of his work to us. I had read some of his short stories before in the New Yorker - stories that will make you laugh hard enough to wet your pants. In fact, I think there should probably be warning signs at his performances to "go" before you settle into your seat for an evening of entertainment. On this particular night at Vanderbilt, there were signs - signs that warned you that the nearest restrooms were in the next building on campus. I probably should have made the hike. I was glad to be out of the rain, however, and eager to find our seats. We were three rows from the stage, which was great until we needed to leave early. No matter - I enjoyed the show. I've gone to NPR.org and listened to sound clips of the same material, but I have to say that they were much better when you could see the smirk on his face as he told the punch lines to his best jokes. It was a delightful experience.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
Read more
Got a late start today, so apparently Karma says I have to make up for it by being incredibly busy. I've been in the office for three hours, and I've spent at least one hour answering e-mail, one hour acting as counselor, and one hour on the phone. It's 2:00 and I'm finally getting my first cup of coffee for the day - what does that tell you. So far I've learned that most doctors are quacks - they all just guess at the problem, and sometimes they get lucky and guess right. I've learned that if you subscribe to Ifit.com, eventually you'll catch an ear-worm - I've listened to essentially the same music over and over for so many months now that I often catch myself humming it. I've learned that my sister is a nutcase and sends me way too much funny stuff. At least it's Friday.
Read more
On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.
Read more