Pamela Ribon is an author, screenwriter, actor, and Wonder Killer. This is her diary. Sort of.

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Daniel J. Blau writes musicals, recaps for TWoP, and travels back and forth between New York and LA because he's just that cosmopolitan.

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Book Drives:
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Friday, September 19, 2003

pam thanks everybody

Oh, my gosh. We already surpassed my fundraising goal. Thank you so much for helping a great cause. I had no idea what a realistic amount would be to strive for, since according to the website it's a big deal if you can raise $1000. We've raised over five hundred dollars in just twelve hours! Thank you.

# posted by pamie : 10:20 AM

pam thanks Bronwyn

Continuing the Florida love, The Tampa Tribune gives WGAW a good review.

# posted by pamie : 10:15 AM

pam rolls her eyes at vampires, werewolves.

I knew you'd bust me on that, Dan. As soon as I hit "post" I regretted writing "Fun stuff". It's totally something my dad would have written. Thanks for calling out how ridiculous I sounded. I'm not Jon Carroll. I don't get to say "Fun stuff."

On an unrelated note, I thought Underworld was a WB show coming out this season. The billboards make it look like a sub-par Buffy replacement.

# posted by pamie : 10:01 AM

dan proclaims it "Share Your Pretty, Pretty Poetry Day" on da blog

That was some sassy verse, indeed, Pamela. Thank goodness I showed up when I did to slum the place up a bit.

Recently, in the throes of utter delirium, Tracie and I wrote the first eight haikus in a collection we will one day publish as a slim, artsy-looking volume of poems entitled At Tim Rice Dot Com.

Wha-huh? Well, allow me to explain.

Tim Rice, for those of you not quite gay enough to be in the know, is a librettist whose early career featured numerous collaborations with Andrew Lloyd Webber, "musical" "genius" and cover model of Dead Or British: A Study In Sallow Skin Tones. Together, they wrote shows such as Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, and Joseph and his Something Something Fibbity-Fibbity Dreamy Coat Something. But, as all things must end, they were eventually to go their separate ways. Andrew Lloyd Webber's future projects included the critically unsung Requiem, the I-can't-believe-I-ever-memorized-this-whole-show-and-oh-yes-also-saw-it-three-times horror show Aspects of Love, and the well-known but highly unrespected Divorcing Sarah Brightman. Meanwhile, Tim Rice inspired Elton John to write the dreckiest music of his career, single-handedly ruining the integrity of the man no one even remembers wrote "Take Me to the Pilot." Anyway, late at night it made sense to us that Tim Rice needed a fansite. But this was not to be just any fansite. This was to be one that featured Tim Rice is a series of compromising, titillating positions. And he'd bring all his friends. And it would be very creepy. And it was to be commemorated entirely in haiku form.

And, thusly, At Tim Rice Dot Com was born:

--------------------

My aspects of love
Make me think of my right hand
Give me URLs

Musical theater
Something stirring in my pants
Man, I love this show

Give it to me now
I don't mean the porn, I mean
Andrew Lloyd Webber

This showtune is hot
Like the corners of my mind
I swear I'm not gay

Turn on my PC
My phantom of the opera
Unmask it with porn

Turn on my PC
I swear, man, this shit is hot
It's Tim Rice.com

I love Evita
I want to see her naked
On Tim Rice.com

I like naked chicks
Including Betty Buckley
It's Tim Rice.com

--------------------

Fun stuff.

# posted by Daniel : 7:40 AM

recommendation: The Emperor's Babe

Not your everyday book. I've been asked to come up with a take on The Emperor's Babe (by Bernardine Evaristo) for a company in London, so I stayed up late tonight re-reading it. I realize I hadn't given it the proper recommendation a few weeks ago when I first mentioned it. It's not just my two years of high school Latin that helped make it so enjoyable, but the fun of Evaristo's sassy verse. An example:

I was spotted at the baths of Cheapside,
just budding, and my fate was sealed

by a man thrice my age and thrice my girth,
all at sweet eleven -- even then Dad

thought I was getting past it.
Then I was sent off to a snooty Roman bitch

called Clarissa for decorum classes,
learnt how to talk, eat and fart,

how to get my amo amas amat right, and ditch
my second-generaton plebby creole.

Zuleika accepta est.
Zuleika delicata est.
Zuleika bloody goody-two shoes est.

But I dreamt of creating mosaics,
of remaking my town with bright stones and glass.

But no! Numquam! It's not allowed.
Sure, Felix brings me presents, when he deigns

to come west. I've had Chinese silk, a marble
figurine from Turkey, gold earrings

shaped like dolphins, and I have the deepest
fondness for my husband, of course,

sort of, though he spills over me like dough
and I'm tempted to call Cook mid coitus

to come trim his sides so that he fits me.
Then it's puff and Ciao, baby!

Solitudoh, solitudee, solitudargh!

Fun stuff.

# posted by pamie : 12:12 AM