“A Brief History of Helen of Troy” is a retelling of the Trojan War from the point of view of a Hermione figure. Figures representing Zeus, Clytemnestra, Odysseus, Menelaus, and Paris all amalgamate across the delusions of the forgotten daughter, having been mythologically abandoned with an epic to hear that she cannot participate in. But the play’s strength is beyond the script. The props accumulate across the stage, reminders of the evoked pain. The sets and technicals are starkly professional. The actors’ deliveries are as haunted as the audience’s winces.

“The Lady’s Not For Burning” has a comedic and complicated script, featuring a steadily flow of water symbolism and the role-reversal of a woman who maintains her innocence and a man who desires conviction. But appreciating the nuances suffered from (aside from 2 or 3 actors’ notable performances) the acting seeming uneven and probably directorially uninspired. Going into the play with diminished expectations may have helped enjoyment.

“I use urbandictionary for all my spellcheck questions.”

Getting streetwise.

Studio Conservation Theorem
There is a finite amount of manhours of occupation available to a given apartment. The amount of time an individual occupant spends in the apartment is inversely proportional to the total number of occupants.

“I have some news for you that’s going to make you very happy or very annoyed.”
Okay, I choose very happy.

See how things go.

It’s not a lens: it’s cardboard with a hole in it. It’s a reverse blindspot.
Our parents kept us and ourselves apart for so long, we lost touch with each other and went to different schools.

I see what you just did.
(Oh, snap.)

“It's a new dawn…”

Edit:
Changing how we live.
Changing where we live.

“…It's a new day…”

Assist:
Helping each other get things done.
Helping each other survive.

“…It's a new life…”

I work as an editorial assistant.

“…And I'm feeling good…”

I put the me in meta.

Red primarily satirizes age, and in particular the institution of retirement, although other political and romantic institutions also get taken to extremes. But the plot itself is just as ludicrous. Indeed, the tone becomes a radically different if the narrative were told in reversed chronology: if the characters are first shown organizing an assassination, then acting to gain intelligence, and enduring the original attacks that bands them together. However, the presentation of such wacky premises nevertheless holds an underlying maturity, making the movie amusingly enjoyable.

“Me and my brother were talking to each other…”

Anything significant is already part of my fiber. Anything insignificant I couldn’t commit to permanence. Like someone who keeps forgetting what they don’t like until it’s reexperienced, why would I ever get a tattoo?

“…Welcome to my life, tattoo / We've a long time together, me and you…”

“How to Live Safely in a Science Fiction Universe” has some very clever ideas about the intersection of time-travel and fiction; and more generally of the intersection of time and expression. Unfortunately, the novel’s writing itself feels rough, perhaps intentionally, although perhaps necessary for these themes, as the protagonist narrator reacts to a fictional world that they realize is fictional. For better or worse, the choppiness of the conceit distracts from the overall narrative; but this narrative presented, twice-removed from reality, almost seems allegorical to actual experiences of the audience, living in a reality without time-travel and which lacks meta-narrative awareness.

What kind of Walgreens doesn’t have any skim milk but does have avocados?

Cinnamon Life is like a box of chocolates.

I have a job and scones. Job starts on Monday. Scones are on a plate.

Will work for food.

“I’m not funny. I’m eating a paperclip.”

Suave man is cryptoteric.

“Art is when quality of work exceeds ego.”

“The Flat Earth Society is somewhere far away / With their candlesticks and compasses…”

I like to walk. I like the freedom of motion unlimited save by my own capabilities: I can walk anywhere I can. But when walking in one direction I find a different sensation. In my return journeys I feel a heaviness in my step, an uneasiness in my limbs, a fear: a fear that I will forget to stop, that I will let myself forget to stop, that I will not be able to stop my benumbed legs from continuing their motions, that I will be carried past my destination, that I will keep walking, that I will continue inexorably into the past or the shoreline.

There’s a feeling I dread when I walk to the east, and my spirit is crying.

“…With grave determination / And no destination…”

A mug or a shot should threaten nothing more than alcohol.

“Can I borrow a computer? I have to cancel my credit cards. Also, these margaritas are really good.”

“But couldn't good be good enough / ‘Cause nothing ever doesn't change, but nothing changes much…”

A good day is one where the number of cool people met is greater than the number of jobs rejected from.
It’s been a good week.

“…White knuckles / Oh maybe it's not so bad / Just let it all come down now…”

“It was always burning / Since the world's been turning…

Write a cover letter.
White-out a badly designed PDF.
Get rejected.
Get a different rejection for the same position.
Go downtown.
Go back uptown.
Change clothes.
Go downtown again.
Lash out by e-mail.
Drop off application with HR.
Text out a desperation plea for the night.
Drill some shelves.
Wash dishes.
Get invited to BCCBS’s Halloween party.
Lose track of time.
Check out orange netbooks.
Impulse buy a DVD I’ve never seen before.
Find my watch in my pocket.
Try out a new trivia night.
Share a table in a crowded bar.
Get the current events and politics wrong, but the sports right.
Meet a friend’s fiancee’s friend’s roommate’s girlfriend.
Meet her grade-schoolmates.
Meet their roommate, and their seminary-schoolmates.
Meet the 21 year old one of them has been talking to.
Get slightly nauseated at an unexpected reuniting.
Vow to never repatronize an obnoxious overcharging bartender’s establishment.
Barhop to a karaoke bar where there’s a waiter named Jesus.
Pick out Piano Man to be my first.
Abandon any plans to sing following the sounds of drama.
Meet a 42 year old recruited to comfort.
See pictures of his children.
Take a quesadilla slice instead of a shot.
Be swung into dance when Piano Man is requested by the birthday boy.
Give a hug to someone left hanging.
Walk home.
Try to write it all down.
Post a snarky reply to an employment advice column.
Drop asleep.
Wake up into a phone interview.
Fill out a survey for $5.
Psycho.
Be indecisive.
Snack on cherry tomatoes.
See free improv.
Plot reunions.
Put in an appearance for second place trivia.
Fall asleep.
Wake up.
Get rejected.
Get rejected.
Get rejected.
Meet a friend.
Meet her girlfriend.
Meet their 2 roommates.
Meet their 3 cats.
Watch Futurama movie.
Play Katamari.
Eat pie.

What else do I have to say?

“…We didn't start the fire…”

Psycho is odd to see in the context of Mad Men: 50 years later, the same decade is seen portrayed, with the same details but different techniques. The modern recreations of Mad Men seem natural, while the non-anachronistically authentic movie feels jerky and artificial. Yet such a schism is appropriate, given not only the psychology of the antagonist, but also the narrative itself, which abruptly shifts itself halfway through.

1 FRUIT PANCAKES, mango, mango, no meat

“If a mime tells you a joke in a forest, and you don’t hear it, is it still funny?”
I’m sorry, I missed the first part of that- did you say mime?
“Yes.” <dances a vaudeville jig>

2 bits.

“It looks like you shave high… on your sideburns.”