Whaaaaaat is this weather? It is the middle of May, Bay Area. The cute little teal umbrella I bought should be functioning as a quaint parasol, not a flimsy shield against gale-force winds. Get it together.
So, Hugh Jackman Saturday night. Turns out that guy is not so much a human as he is some sort of crazy charisma-bot. I wish it was 1970 right now so that he could have a weekly variety show for me to watch between acid trips and militant feminist gatherings, because it would be awesome. He owned that stage. One or two song choices were a little “meh,” and his voice, while fantastic, wasn’t revelatory or anything; but his ability to work a crowd was unlike anything I’ve seen live. Like, I had to take a shower when I got home just to get all the charm off me. No wonder dude’s a movie star.
(His wife was there that night, and he played a montage of pictures of her while he sang “The Way You Look Tonight,” which is one of my all-time favorite songs thanks to one silly, sweet high school memory, so I basically gave birth to a kangaroo right then and there.)
The whole evening made me really keen to put together a show of my own. I think I’d do well in the solo-act world; just singin’ songs I like and putting my banter to use while I wait to age into all the roles I can actually play. Plus, it would give me a respite from the hellish world of show auditions, where despite my best efforts, every single thing that comes out of my mouth somehow turns into this.