Four hours in bed ate today's blog post

I had intended to write about the day, but when I realized I'd have only four hours in bed before I had to get up to head to the airport, I abandoned the blog and crashed.

Perhaps I will catch up Sunday, or perhaps I will fall asleep again.  Such are the mysteries of my life lately.

Cirque's Michael Jackson ONE brings the magic

For a long time, I wouldn't even consider going to this show.  As much as I've loved all the Cirque performances I've attended, and despite the fact that I liked a great deal of Jackson's music, I was so disturbed by the child molestation charges against Jackson that I avoided everything to do with him.  Finally, I decided on this trip to give it a try.

I am very glad I did.  The show is a magical piece, a loud, booming, tech-heavy tribute to Jackson's music that manages to end on an uplifting message.

In the usual Cirque style, it mixes music and various acrobatic performances.  It's by far the most tech-intensive of the shows, and at times it risks losing its hold on you when you realize that you're just watching a very big music video--but then the live action resumes, and all is well.

The show's title refers to the ending message, something we need more than ever in Trump's America:  that regardless of color or any other differences, we are all one.

To my surprise, I strongly recommend the show and look forward to seeing it again.

By the way, for those wanting more about our Vegas trip, between walking a great deal each day and keeping up with work, I'm having to write short entries so I can get enough sleep.  I'll try to provide more trip information in later entries.

How Kyle and I ended up wet, sticky, and cold in Vegas

I assure you my intentions were good.

I've been in the splash zone at both O and La Reve and never really gotten wet, so I figured being up front at another Vegas play would be fine.  Consequently, when we decided to check out Evil Dead: The Musical--what's not to like about a musical version of a cult classic?--and the best tickets were for the "splatter zone," I chose them for us.

I should have paid more attention to the lines about "gallons of blood," but I assumed that referred to the show, not the audience.

Not long before showtime, a host led us to the front row, which was covered in plastic, and handed us white, logoed t-shirts, which he then insisted we wear.  Only we two and another guy were in the front.

As the show was about to begin, from way off to my left came a spray, presumably from a super-soaker of some sort, of red liquid with the consistency of Kool-Aid.  I was instantly wet.

From then on, the show consisted of moments of entertainment mixed with stretches of failed attempts on our part to avoid the jets of fake blood coming at us from the left and, in one case, from the stage.

We left the theater chilled to the bone, sticky, and soaked.  We took off the t-shirts but still had to walk through the cold night and then across much of the casino floor of our hotel to get to our room.

We have a pink towel from trying to wash the still-pink clothing we were wearing.

We both think the show was reasonably entertaining, but neither of us can be sure, because we spent so much of it trying in vain to avoid getting wetter, stickier, and colder.

Good intentions are no match for a determined splatter zone team.

Our not-so-crazy first night in Vegas

So what kind of Vegas party animals are Kyle and I?

Well, on our first night in Sin City, we walked more than a mile each way to go from our hotel to dinner and back, ate two small plates each at a decent Italian place (Lago), enjoyed small cups of gelato at our favorite gelateria in the Bellagio, and watched the last episode of The Ultimate Fighter in our room.

Oh, yeah:  we talked, I worked, and we read.

What wild and crazy guys we are!

I'm heading to Vegas in the morning

and I am still way behind and haven't packed, so I best get to it.  In the meantime, enjoy this lovely version of the Cohen classic, which has been on my mind since I first saw it a couple of weeks ago.  If you haven't watched or heard it yet, it's a treat.  If you have, let it play just to take in the song.



Enjoy.

Catch Arrival before it gets away

Arrival has been in local theaters for a bit now, so I wouldn't be surprised to see it soon vanish from our screens.  Don't let that happen without seeing it.  A thoughtful, moving SF film is all too rare, and Arrival is that and more.

The movie of course draws much of its strength from Ted Chiang's compelling original story, "Story of Your Life."  It brings the tale to life with a good adaptation and excellent performances from its leads, particularly Amy Adams, who delivers her best turn ever.

If you don't know anything about the story, don't feel that you need to read it in advance; just go catch the movie.  Then, to reward Chiang, buy a book that contains the story.

I'm glad I was able to catch this one, and I encourage you to do the same.

Moana is a delight you should not miss

A lot of folks have praised Moana for its interesting cultural background and for its strong feminist message, and the movie deserves all of that praise.  It also deserves accolades for its stars, its imagery, its music, and its animation.  What's most important about Moana, though, is that it's an hour and forty three minutes of delight.

If you don't know the plot, don't bother investing time in reading reviews; you won't need them.  The film stands beautifully alone, and it will win you over in no time.

I could go on and on with praise, but rather than tell you anything more about it, let me say simply that this is a movie you should not miss.  As a bonus, you can take anyone of any age to it, and they will almost certainly have a good time, too.

Check it out.