In Love, in Tampa | Tragic Comedy

Last night we took in a special show by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman for Valentines Day. Kelly is a huge fan of both and I was happy to take her to see them.

I did not start the evening as a Palmer fan, but I was one by the time it ended. Her songs can be pretentious, self-involved, shrill, off-key -- all qualities that are off-putting at first that gradually become endearing. I particularly enjoyed her piano playing and wished for an instrumental number, but it wasn't in the cards.

I enjoyed Gaiman's comics back when I read comics, and I knew of his reputation as a very gifted storyteller otherwise. He doesn't have the best reading voice (and an even worse singing voice), but he certainly made do. His stories were touching and clever.

The best part of the show by far was the conversations with the audience, in the form of Q&A on notes dropped in a box in the lobby. Both stars have a mutual love affair with their fans, although Palmer's are far more extroverted (and prone to shouting things at her all night, as I learned). They improvised very funny answers to fan questions and showed a lot of personality. They were there to engage with the audience, not just put on a one-way show.

We arrived too late to have the planned dinner with friends in Tampa, so we sat shivering outside without jackets (boo hoo, right northern friends?) at a sidewalk bistro before showtime. I was on diet, so I just had to sit while Kelly ate hummus and tried to get it over with quickly. We walked around downtown Tampa a bit and found a shop selling all kinds of chocolates, the perfect spontaneous purchase on Valentines Day. Due to the show running past midnight and it already being a long drive to Tampa and back, we wound up having a ten-hour day trip. It was worth it.

Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

R.I.P. Mom

You were so still in your bed when I could finally sit down beside you, a few hours after the facility notified me that you had died. I hadn't seen you be that peaceful in years, your eyes not scanning the room for clues, your hands not turning over each object in front of you for endlessly repeated examination. I whispered to you the most urgent and most precious things I had to say, the secrets and atonements and wishes foremost on my mind. Go »

Weakened

A friend (new GOO devotee Aaron Weiss) once said he had read about a psychological study that found people don't feel like they've had a weekend if they didn't have free time on Friday night. That was my experience this weekend: At the office till eight, then sitting down with pizza and a DVD only to nod off on the couch by nine thirty. I may have woken up refreshed on Saturday morning, but there was this crushing feeling that the weekend was almost over, that sort of numbing dread you feel every Sunday night an hour before bed. Go »

White Christmas

We're enjoying our winter vacation in central Illinois so far. Tue 12/22 - When you're hitting the road for your vacation right after work is over, every extra minute feels like an hour, which means I did 45 hours of overtime. The drive was easier than we thought, probably because we had days to prepare this time. Go »

Shadows

Lindsey Stirling combines her violin, electronic music, and hip hop dance moves into a really unique pop act. She was a semi-finalist on America's Got Talent, but YouTube seems to be a better showcase for her. I'm really digging a number of her videos, but especially this one because it's mostly a single uninterrupted shot. Go »

All King and No Kubrick Make Jack a Dull Boy

I recently got to talking with friends who liked The Shining, both Stephen King's novel and Stanley Kubrick's film adaptation of it, but who were unaware that King has always loathed the movie, despite its reputation as one of the best horror films ever made. It's hard to imagine that a writer doesn't know his own work better than someone interpreting it, but I think this is one of those rare cases where the writer is just too close to the story to get it. Here are three reasons why I think Kubrick's film better understands the material, and is better overall, than King's novel: 1) In King's version, Jack Torrance is a fundamentally decent man who wouldn't hurt a fly, but who is down on his luck and desperate. Go »