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Dec. 18th, 2007
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Dec. 18th, 2007 06:21 pmWow. Big day at the theatre. I called Great Britain four times. Apparently the British Theatre Professionals' Guild has forbidden the use of voicemail or answering machines.
One of my major duties in my capacity as Dramaturgical Apprentice is to find free copies of every script that my Artistic Director mentions. There are uncool elements to the job, but I'm getting to meet a lot of people from all over the country who once produced the play in question and might have a digital copy somewhere. I average about a 75% success rate so far.
A few of the plays are British, and so far with the British plays the major hurdle has been that 1. I am calling in the afternoon Central Standard Time, when it is well past business hours in the Mother Country, and 2. Nobody has voicemail. I would just email them, but (3.) Nobody lists their email addresses on their websites, either. I know they all have email, I just can't get to their addresses. Maybe I've been in America too long, but what the hell, no ansaphone? What is this, the early sixties? If so, is Peter Brook hiring? I'd like to get in on the ground floor there.
We were listening to the radio in the box office where my desk is, and they played a Radiohead song which they said was from an album that was contender for best album of the year. Then the DJ went off into some meandering rant about how he doesn't think it's really an "album" because it was all downloaded off this internet thing and that's not an album, it's just data, and oh my god, you asshole. I don't even like Radiohead but come on. Apparently this wanker's standard for what an "album" is requires that it be a physical object you can set on fire if you disapprove of it.
Fortunately, one of my coworkers came in and changed it to some other station where they were playing a marathon of the hits of 1994. I counted four songs off the Reality Bites soundtrack in less than two hours. Awesome.
I also mailed a bunch of packages today, all of which were originally white until I taped them to within an inch of their life with brown packing tape. Merry Christmas! Here's an IQ puzzle! If you can get all the tape off without losing a finger, you win what's inside!
I'm going to go curl up on the sofa with cocoa and a stack of plays and promptly fall asleep.
One of my major duties in my capacity as Dramaturgical Apprentice is to find free copies of every script that my Artistic Director mentions. There are uncool elements to the job, but I'm getting to meet a lot of people from all over the country who once produced the play in question and might have a digital copy somewhere. I average about a 75% success rate so far.
A few of the plays are British, and so far with the British plays the major hurdle has been that 1. I am calling in the afternoon Central Standard Time, when it is well past business hours in the Mother Country, and 2. Nobody has voicemail. I would just email them, but (3.) Nobody lists their email addresses on their websites, either. I know they all have email, I just can't get to their addresses. Maybe I've been in America too long, but what the hell, no ansaphone? What is this, the early sixties? If so, is Peter Brook hiring? I'd like to get in on the ground floor there.
We were listening to the radio in the box office where my desk is, and they played a Radiohead song which they said was from an album that was contender for best album of the year. Then the DJ went off into some meandering rant about how he doesn't think it's really an "album" because it was all downloaded off this internet thing and that's not an album, it's just data, and oh my god, you asshole. I don't even like Radiohead but come on. Apparently this wanker's standard for what an "album" is requires that it be a physical object you can set on fire if you disapprove of it.
Fortunately, one of my coworkers came in and changed it to some other station where they were playing a marathon of the hits of 1994. I counted four songs off the Reality Bites soundtrack in less than two hours. Awesome.
I also mailed a bunch of packages today, all of which were originally white until I taped them to within an inch of their life with brown packing tape. Merry Christmas! Here's an IQ puzzle! If you can get all the tape off without losing a finger, you win what's inside!
I'm going to go curl up on the sofa with cocoa and a stack of plays and promptly fall asleep.