Epistemographer

Moving Wednesday.

Sending dissertation to committee Friday.

[I plan to be back to my normal blogging self next week, with a snazzy new site design and everything]

So, I just got a G-mail account: epistemographer@gmail.com. How, you ask, did I manage such a thing? Well-connected friends? Winning a contest?

Nope. I went to Gmailswap.com and offered to mail someone a fresh NYC bagel for a Gmail invite. Literally within two minutes, I’d recieved a response, and tomorrow morning, a plain (and an onion, just because she seems really nice) bagel will be winging its way to a young woman in Portland, OR.

For some reason, this whole thing really appeals to my sense of the absurd, and I wouldn’t have wanted to get a Gmail invite any other way.

Continuing our lame-duck, “let’s take advantage of NYC while we’re still here” campaign, Jenny and I woke up early today and trekked right back to the Public Theater to sit on line for Shakespeare in the Park tickets (this year’s show: Measure for Measure [Correction: Much Ado about Nothing (not sure what I was thinking here)]). The crowd was noticeably different from those that I’ve previously seen (and been a part of) waiting outside the Delacorte theater in Central Park…the line outside the Public Theater seemed mostly comprised of locals who live or work in the Village. We got there around 10:30 am and were maybe 20th in line, and when we got our tix around 1 pm we found that we’d be sitting in the fourth row, center. Sweet.

The production itself was one of the best stagings of Shakespeare that I’ve seen – nothing fancy, nothing that got in the way of the narrative and the language (though apparently the setting of early 20th-century Italy was supposed to connect with the Italian futurist movement, according to a throwaway comment in the program and a few random “manifesto” posters scattered throughout the entrances to the theater).

The cast was solid at worst, inspired at best, with particular standouts being Sam Waterston’s Leonato and the show-stealing bickering of Jimmy Smits and Kristen Johnston as Benedick and Beatrice (though I still slightly prefer Emma Thompson’s Beatrice, who was more sly and also at times more vulnurable, Smits’ swaggering Benedick was the best I’ve ever seen).

Naturally, it wouldn’t have been “Shakespeare in the Park” without at least one actor/actress who was never quite submerged in his/her part, and every time Dominic Chianese’s Antonio opened his mouth I couldn’t help thinking “Hee! It’s Uncle Junior!!”

All in all, an evening well-spent. Tomorrow, we continue sucking the marrow out of New York life: Restaurant Week…