Tytania Strange

I have three kids in camp. Two are my private students. One is not. My two private students are outgoing kids. The third kid isn't. My two private students catch on to everything right away and rock everything I give them. The other hasn't spent enough time working with me to know how my mind works. So, the end result is two kids paying attention to each other and ignoring the third. This is not how I teach my kids to act. This is not the kind of teacher I want to be. Right now, all three of these kids are my students and I owe them all the same consideration and attention. Period.

Now the two are saying that the third is being mean to them. I don't see it. I see kid number three breaking into smiles during the few times when she is blocked to actually interact with the others and the rest of the time they ignore her. Is she lashing out now? Probably. If she is, it's because the other two helped create a dynamic where the third feels attacked almost all the time so what they see as "helpful" she sees as "aggressive."

Me? I am ready to fucking cry. I am ready to scrap the whole thing. I don't want to make costumes tonight.

I recognize that my two private students are far ahead of the third kid. I also recognize that they have advantages that she doesn't and I refuse to be the teacher who chooses pets. I think that teachers who do that are lazy, pathetic cop-outs who have no business "teaching" anything to anyone. I demand better from myself.

And I demand better from my students. ALL of my students.

So, tomorrow, it's as if none of this ever happened BUT if the behavior happens again, I will let 'er rip with the tantrum and the tears because they need to know JUST HOW NOT COOL THIS IS.

Dog found. The neighbors took him in for the night and then brought him to the vet whose number was on his tags. The vet called my sister and now the baby is home safe and crazy.

My sister just called to say that her dog got out while she was at the theater. Now she's desperately searching the neighborhood for him. Oh lord, you guys, I just didn't need this. I really didn't. I just keep praying that she'll call in the next 30 minutes to say that she found him. That way, I can get some sleep. There's only so much freaking out that I can do.

Meanwhile dad is complaining of chest pain but won't call the doctor because he doesn't want to be told that he needs to go to the emergency room.

Seriously, this is more than I can handle. It really is.

( Read on, MacTragedyPants... )

At this moment in time, my mother is not speaking to my sister. My sister has no idea that mom isn't speaking to her, because it isn't as if you can call a person up to tell them that you aren't speaking to them. This means that Mom can't answer the phone, just in case it's my sister calling because she'd have to hand the phone over to one of us right away, so that we could explain to my sister that Mom isn't speaking to her. I think psycho-sis may have some clue that something is up, because she had her hubby call in earlier to give us a status report on their return home. He called around 4pm, about the time when they were supposed to get home from their Disneyland trip, to tell us that they were about to have dinner and then they would be driving back home. You see the rule is that you have to bring someone into this world in order to take them out, so brother-in-law is safe from our parents. My folks won't be looking for an iPhone app that will make his phone detonate mid-conversation, likely blowing off his ear. So, now we get to wait for her to call, so I can tell her that Mom isn't speaking to her, with Mom standing over me, telling me all the reasons why she isn't speaking to my sister, which my sister will hear because Mom will be yelling. Yeah. Can't. Wait. "Hi Psyco-sis... no, you can't talk to Mom, because she's not speaking to you... yeah, well she would have called and told you herself, but she's not speaking to you. I'm sure you can understand her difficulty in this matter..."

ZOMG, you guys, the Titanic is sinking!

Why is everyone so negative? We shouldn't dwell on things like sinking! The Carpathia is still afloat!

Hey, how would you guys arrange these deck chairs?

These deck chairs are all wrong for this deck!

I prefer blue deck chairs on this deck.

Only a moron would say that. Everyone knows that this deck is for red chairs only!

Like it matters. There haven't been any decent deck chairs since 1953.

Actually, I saw a really great deck chair last year.

You don't know what you're talking about. That deck chair doesn't come close to living up to all the hype.

Look, nobody asked you about the quality of the deck chairs. We were just talking about arranging them.

Who gave you the right to tell us whether or not we can talk about deck chairs?

Given the fact that we're all about to drown, who gives a shit about deck chairs anyway?

I think we should all pull together and donate for some new deck chairs!

Why should we pay for deck chairs? The Titanic should supply us with the chairs.

I like the chairs on the Carpathia better anyway. I'm going to buy them more chairs. They're not sinking, after all.

You should be grateful for the Titanic! You're really mean!

I think we should have both red and blue deck chairs on this deck.

I've always hated this deck.

I like coming to this deck, but I don't arrange chairs here. My chair-arranging skills are better suited to another deck.

Ummm... guys, have you noticed that all the chairs are kinda sliding to the other side of the deck...

Duh, didn't I tell you that these deck chairs suck? If they were better chairs, they wouldn't be sliding!

People don't appreciate good deck chairs anymore. There's no emphasis on chairs in the schools.

I blame recliners. Recliners made people stop appreciating deck chairs.

I'm going over to the Lusitania, see ya suckers!

The Lusitania sucks. I'd rather be on the Titanic.

OMG did you see the way they arranged the deck chairs on the upper deck?

The upper deck sucks.

I hate those chairs.

I love those chairs!

The lower deck has better quality chairs.

I think the lower deck is underwater right about now.

Why do we have to talk about being underwater? It's depressing!

We're all going to be underwater because we're freaking sinking, you guys! I'm getting in a lifeboat.

Good! More chairs left for me!

I'm getting a purple chair!

There are no purple chairs. Chairs are always blue or red.

Actually, I heard that the important chairs can be purple, but you have to be on the upper deck for that.

I think we just lost some chairs, guys.

You can't lose chairs! Deck chairs are supposed to be on the deck! You can't take deck chairs off the deck!

Has anyone else noticed that this deck has gotten really crowded? I don't think we have room for more chairs.

That's because half this deck is covered in water. There's less deck to put chairs on.

Which school is the best for arranging deck chairs?

Did you see who won the deck chair competition?

It's rigged. They always pick the same deck chairs.

Holy crap, one of the smoke stacks just fell over and crushed the upper deck!

Well, that deck was mismanaged, They shouldn't have been so close to the smokestacks!

Does anyone remember what happened to the person with the purple chair? I don't see them around anymore.

They messed up their deck chair by arranging it wrong.

No has arranged deck chairs properly since the 1970's. I remember that one chair...

Remember the green chair? There will never be another green chair!

Holy crap you guys, our deck is going under! This is it! We're finished!

Well, it wouldn't have gone under if we had that green chair.

No, the green chair ruined it for the blue chairs.

No one asked you for your opinion about the green chair.

So, how should we arrange these deck chairs?

*glug*

And then I listen to my recital recordings and realize that I am what I am.

And I really need to do another demo recording.

This is dedicated to the lovely and talented suntop who sent me the music for this song. Behold, I bring you Cupid's Couplet de Baisers with bonus high F#'s and a sustained E because I have no taste.

https://rcpt.yousendit.com/702807416/92588ce4699514a662fef7e9f95f6e01

Dear neighbor:

Believe me, when my dog barks like a maniac, it annoys me as much as it does you. I don't relish having to chase my dog down every ten minutes. I'd actually be feeling sorry about the dog being such a pain if you hadn't called me "sweetheart" informed me that I could "kiss your ass" or said that my dog "wasn't long for this world." This would be me documenting the exchange, by the way. As for telling me to "go to law school" I'm assuming that you aren't aware that my dad, the owner of said dog, is a lawyer and I actually did study pre-law for two years.

Sadly, I'm afraid that going to law school would be rather time consuming and expensive, but I did take your advice to heart. I decided to look up the noise regulations in my area. According to the law, my dog is allowed to bark non-stop for up to ten minutes or intermittently for up to thirty minutes but, and here's the kicker, if someone is trespassing, threatening to trespass or otherwise provoking the dog, then the dog can bark her head off forever. So, all those times you've yelled and threatened would count as provoking the dog which pretty much negates any claim you can make about the noise. It also means that I can report you to the police without having to worry about my dog getting into trouble.

Needless to say, I will be letting my dog out for nine minutes at a time or so. When I have you dragged off, I want to make sure there's a minimum of fuss on my end.

So, thanks for the advice and I'm looking forward to our next chat!

Sincerely,

Tytania Strange

I actually managed to somehow have all the music for yesterday's recital learned and, where appropriate, memorized. I challenged myself to do a new aria along with the tricky duet (I still don't know how I learned it) and the new translation and cuts for the Impresario trio. I figure there's a lesson in this somewhere, namely that learning music isn't a problem if I make it a priority. This stuff only becomes an issue when I decide that goofing off should be my focus in life. They really need to sit everyone down at their music school auditions to say "You know how everyone has time for family and fun and just sitting back and chillin'? You won't be having that. You won't be having that ever. Consider yourself lucky if you see one episode of the latest TV show over a six month period because if you are actually in your house, sitting in a chair during prime time then your career just hit the crapper. Sorry about that." Even if I'm not at rehearsal in the evening, I know that I have shit to do that will keep me away from the latest episode of (fill in whatever people watch these days since I haven't watched actual normal television in well over three years... maybe longer... oh crap... not since Buffy was on Tuesdays. I have no life.)

Today, I did the last edit on the recital dialogue. I lost my Sarastro and had to move a couple songs because the pacing was bugging me. The pages are now printed and ready to go into the binder. Then I entered "I am the captain of the Pinafore" into Finale so that I could move all the voices into treble and then I dropped the key from A to G to save myself the whining about the high As which aren't even that high. Seriously.

Tomorrow, I am entering my little bit of "A British Tar is a soaring soul" into Finale and putting together a hat for Cousin Pheobe. I also need to find the captain's hat. Then I'll fix a typo or three in the Pinafore music, re-print the messed up pages and we're ready to go with Pinafore. If I have time, I'll start in on the bits of the Flute Quintet that need to be fixed and I'm expecting that the book for the accompanist will be ready on Tuesday.

Tuesday night, I'll be making the lock for Papagena's mouth and assembling the Papageno/Papagena hats. I'll most like get the queen's crown and the ladies hairpieces done then as well. The ship's wheel may or may not get put together on Wednesday morning. By Thursday afternoon, everything will be complete and loaded into the car. Then all I have to do is rehearse for the next couple of days until we perform on Sunday.

After that, I can start planning out the program for my own recital in October and thinking about recording a CD.

I'd write a real entry but after 4,000 words of editing MarySue of the Opera and about 2500 words of recital dialogue, I am so done expressing myself with text.

( Wow, you really aren't very original are you, Tytania... )

I honestly cannot tell you whether I love this like woah or hate it with the burning hatred of a thousand hate filled suns that are feeling very very angry indeed?

On the one side, Jude Law is the perfect Watson. He's actually like the Watson from the books, rather than the loser Watson we usually see in the movies. You can believe him romancing the occasional damsel in distress. I can also see Robert Downey Jr. in his role, even if he is channeling Johnny Depp's performance in From Hell. But then there's... everything else...

It makes me want to film my German Shepherd chowing down on her "doggie lollypop" or possibly on my shoes...

We have the video from this year's ice skating recital. As one of my students pointed out, everything is crazier when there's ice skating involved. Kids dressed up as monsters? Not so crazy. Kids dressed up as monsters wearing ice skates and attempting to skate in a straight line? Wackier than Walter the Wackjob winner of the Worldwide Wacko award.

There are also moments when the kids pull it together and rock their icy little world. The Harry Potter drill team was totally awesome. The finale torch-wielding mob scene in Frankenstein on ice looked really cool. That being said, the crazy moments are more fun to talk about.

Back in the day, my sister and I both figure skated. Mom forced us. We were dragged kicking and screaming and plopped onto the ice, not because Mom thought we had any talent at all or harbored any hopes of us being any good at it, but because she was sick of seeing us sitting in front of "the boob tube" all day long. As far as she was concerned, all the kids' programming was nothing but ads for toys and crap (and she was right about that, hello Rainbow Brite Show, My Little Pony Show and ZOMG Gummi Bears!!!) So, we get shoved into skating lessons. Eventually, we even sort of practiced because you had to pass the tests in order to get onto the skating teams that all your friends were on or to get a SOLO IN THE YEAR END RECITAL.

Today, the solos are more planned out and set. That doesn't mean you don't occasionally end up with a teenager dressed as a sexy sexy monk skating to a song about getting high because that still totally happens and did totally happen. Oh, ice skating, never stop being that insane. These days you have to be a Freestyle level 7 or 8 or something to get a solo and they only give out a few. When we skated as kids, you only had to be a level 4 and they had different solos every night for 3-4 shows. Yes, the skating recital was so long that it took 3 or 4 nights. It was like Lord of the Rings only with skating and sparkles and pop music.

When my sister finally was eligible for her very own solo, she decided that she wanted to skate to music from the Disneyland Electric Parade. She had this super cool Mickey Mouse outfit that a costumer had made for her (she had helped out on a show and she got a custom made costume in lieu of pay.) Then either she or Mom came up with this brilliant idea that it would be super cool if she came out of a light parade float. Nevermind that none of us had any experience making any kind of a float, not even a float that you pull along in a wagon. We'd all seen behind the scenes specials and it was all about chicken wire right? So my sister or my mother or both of them decided to make a giant mushroom float.

When you think about it, a giant mushroom is not the ideal project for a first time builder of electrical parade floats. Those things are complicated. They have engineering and stuff. We had chicken wire and Christmas lights. My dad flat out refused to be involved, which only made my mom more determined to make the thing work. So she assembled fabric and lights and chicken wire into... you have to know where this is going... a giant, glowing penis.

I said nothing about the penis because I am not crazy. I already knew that you do not get in between Mom and her figure skating stuff. Believe me, I tried. I bruised my freakin' tailbone and she sent me right back out onto the ice because that's how hardcore Mom is. You don't leave practice for anything that doesn't require an immediate trip to the emergency room. The more Dad talked about the giant penis, the more Mom insisted that it looked like a mushroom and we were just being mean. It was a MUSHROOM dammit.

And that, my friends, is how my sister ended up dressed as an ice-skating Mickey Mouse birthed from a giant, skating, glowing penis.

About three years later, Mom watched the home video (for old time's sake) and face-palmed.

Only in an ice skating recital, guys, only in an ice skating recital. If the performances didn't always hit during my busiest seasons, I would go to that recital every year in the hopes of watching a team of teenaged Dr. Frankenfurters performing a tribute to The Rocky Horror Picture or my own contribution, a skating Horatio Caine using the sunglasses of justice to track down the reindeer who ran over grandma. Only in an ice skating recital, you guys, only in an an ice skating recital.

I would totally go to see this. It's actually good. Even having the cast carrying on the prop ships looks kind of brilliant. Why can't all modern opera look like this?

In response to this bit of chicken soup for the musician's soul:

Yes, music is about as close as we can get to real magic. It has power that is hard to explain, but it's there nonetheless.

The power of music does not, however, put food on the table. Hence, I'll add:

As your children are sitting on the street corner, playing for tips because they are so far above mere entertainers who get paid, they can take comfort in their higher purpose. When they go home to their tiny studio apartments, which they share with roommates, and ponder whether cockroaches can be used as a source of low-cost protein, they will be filled with the inner joy that comes of knowing that they are better than everyone else in the whole world... even if no one else in the whole world is inclined to agree. So, don't think for one  minute that the armloads of cash you will be forking over to us for the next four or more years will be a waste. Always remember that delusional is special because they both end in "al." Thank you.

I'm an entertainer. Entertainment is a glorious thing. Entertainment is the thing that takes us to another, better place for a few seconds or a few minutes or a few hours. Entertainment is such a powerful force that people are practically willing to worship those who provide it and that's why everyone and their siblings is trying to squeeze into the field.

But I don't believe for one second that I'm special or magical or higher than thou because mine is the butt in front of the audience. Entertainment is all about the communion between the performer(s) and the people out there experiencing the performance. The magic only happens when we reach out to them and connect with them. The magic only happens when we're willing to strip our souls bare so that the world can see what we're made of and can experience what we're creating. Anything less and we're a bunch of  assholes making a spectacle of ourselves, no matter how much we're getting paid to do it. Know what's even worse? No one is fooled by our bullshit, not for one single second. It's everyone's worst nightmare, standing buck naked in front of a jeering crowd... a jeering crowd armed with iphones so they can share photos and comments in real time. Welcome to the internet age.

So, if you are driven to give of yourself for the sake of bringing a little brightness into people's lives for a second or a moment or an hour, then you're one of the blessed. You will come away feeling full every time you share your talent.

Professional music, it's like joining the Peace Corps only there's no health plan and you don't get nearly as much credit.

I have the Figaro Photo DVD, but I can't figure out how to grab images. It's this freaky-deaky slide show with music. So, I have to wait for the opera company to update their production photos page so I can grab images, other than this one:



I kinda loved that yellow dress.

I've been having nightmares ever since I first viewed this... mostly because I actually have seen a porno that looked exactly like this. No. I'm serious. It's like the director saw the same clip and thought "This would make an awesome music video if we cast an opera star and cut the money shots!"

Just in case you don't want to watch this artistic masterpiece, I'll sum up. Once upon a time, there was a place that looked just like the set of Dark City, only it was light there. All of the extras from the first Stargate movie lived there happily, experimenting with Jack Sparrow's painted eye makeup techniques from the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie and hanging out with a dude who was passed up for the oracle gig in 300 because the oracle is supposed to be a chick. Then, Elrond's kinky cousin dropped by for some BDSM action with a naked fashion model who was, apparently, doing a centerfold for the Museum Replicas catalog. Then, suddenly, a giant bowling ball tried to crush them, but they foiled it's evil scheme by stepping out of the way before it smushed them and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

Video is NSFW in case you haven't guessed that already.

In case anyone has a Dreamwidth account, I'm tytaniastrange over there. I really did mean to change handles but this one is so me. Ironic that when I created it, I was trying to be something other myself. My brain does this sort of thing because it hates me.

Oh, and in case it matters, I don't plan to abandon LJ or shut off comments or whatever it is people do. I keep hearing of a miraculous cross-posting feature, so it seems to me that things can carry on with business as usual for the time being.

Yes, this is how I have to fill up my time between wondering why my computer desk smells disturbingly like candy and blaming the Canadian Tourism industry for swine flu (if people can't go to Mexico for vacations, they'll have to come to Canada! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!! EH!)

The Sandman Volume One: Preludes and Nocturnes

It is so weird to revisit these "graphic novels" which were actually in comic book form when I first encountered them. You see, in the intervening years, every single groundbreaking comic has been turned into a lame cliche. Everything from the storytelling conventions to the style of the artwork has been used and re-used to the point where if I have to look at one more illustration of gooey, still living, mushed up flesh (I am looking at you, Clive Barker) I will scream. Seriously. I am over seeing entire pages of peachy, bilious red with some squiggles and an eyeball (there's always an eyeball, like the entire body went into the blender but that eyeball somehow survived.) Done. Someone needs to start drawing something else.

The other problem in graphic art is that stuff that sounds really scary when you type it out, looks somewhat less impressive when rendered as an image. Take, for an unrelated example, Sauron's appearance in the film version of Return of the King. Sauron went to how much effort to come back from wherever it was he went off to the last time he was killed and this how it all turns out. He's an angry, flaming eyeball stuck on top of building who shoots laserbeams or something. That's just sad. It's no wonder he's pissed off. Or, as another example, there's a ruler of Hell in this comic who looks like a cranky, red artichoke with eyes. No, really. Everytime I see this character, I expect an cameo from the Aqua Teen Hunger Force when I turn the page. I'm sure the concept was extremely scary when the wrote it down, but it doesn't translate well in the medium.

Okay, moving right along, Sandman is one of THE comics of the 1990's. Those were the days when comics had suddenly become cool... well, cool among geeks because I sure as hell never ran into any yuppies at the comic store while picking up the latest issue of Fangoria... and one of the big cool things was the idea that the comic genre could be twisted around. One of the things I like about Watchmen is the lack of Superman and Batman. Seeing random characters from other stories screams "This is a comic, isn't this cool????" It pulls you out of the story. The cameo appearances from random people are the main problem with the first issues of Sandman. They suck.

The second problem lies in the choppiness of the story. Sometimes, events move really fast. Then everything grinds to a halt and the story feels like a bunch of filler or a sad excuse for another cameo appearance. I didn't need to see John Constantine in this comic. It doesn't work. It's lame.

I. The Sleep of the Just- Illustrated by Sam Kieth and Mike Dringenberg

I actually like the art in this one. There are colors and Dream doesn't look like he has just formed a Cure coverband. So, this guy has some magical ceremony and captures Dream who is trapped, buck nekkid, in a glass thing where he proceeds to say nothing and be generally scary. Eventually, all his stuff is sold off and years go by. People have weird dreams. The background is well done and everything other than Dream's helmet (it looks like he decided to dress up as Gonzo from the Muppets, and they knew about Gonzo so there's no excuse for that) is cool. Oh yes, there's an eyeball or two because we all know that when your head explodes, your eyeballs remain intact. I see one lame superhero reference, flaming Oberon, you guys, can we never get over the damn superheroes?

II. Imperfect Hosts-Illustrated by Sam Kieth and Mike Dringenberg

I'm not really sure how I feel about all the Cain and Abel stuff. On the one hand, I like the characters. On the other hand, I'd like to get back to the story plsthanks. I do like some of the detail in the drawings. We meet Dr. Destiny for the first time. He looks bad, but nowhere near as bad as he will look later on. In dreamland, Dream calls up the fates who provide some information about his missing stuff. Here's the gratuitous John Constantine mention. Allow me to write how that should have worked out "John Constantine has your crap. It's in a safe deposit box because, being all into Hell and shit, he knew how badass your stuff is. He said he tried to call you but you never picked up. Here's his number. The end."

III. Dream a Little Dream of Me- Illustrated by Sam Kieth and Mike Dringenberg

John Constantine is a dumbass. There's one panel where he looks like he's wearing Hammertime pants. The proprtions need some work. Dream has started looking exactly like Niel Gaiman would look if he was in a Cure tribute band. Gratuitous sex. Check. Icky pinkish wall o' gore. Check. What, no eyeball? Look, John Constantine and his hideous yellow hair killed it all for me. Moving right along...

IV. A Hope in Hell- Illustrate by Sam Kieth and Mike Dringenberg

Some of the detail in the Hell backgrounds is awesome. The closeup of Lucifer is great, too bad his coworkers are an angry red artichoke with eyes and a pair of legs with a fly's head that looks like a pair of hairy scrotum. Yeah, some of Dream's stuff is here in Hell because if I were a demon from Hell with cool stuff, I would totally go to Hell and sit around doing nothing with it. Yep. That's what I'd do. The demon challenges Dream to that contest of changing into stuff. I remember that one from that Disney movie King Arthur. Mad Madam Mim was hardcore, folks. Also, Dr. Destiny's mom sent him an eyeball. I'm telling you, those things are indestructible.

V. Passenger- Illustrated by Sam Kieth and Malcolm Jones III

You guys, if the Phantom of the Opera was running around naked, he would totally look like Dr. Destiny. At least, book!Phantom would look like him. If Gerry Butler woke up looking like that he'd... I was going to say "Kill himself" but who am I kidding, he'd just go to the plastic surgeon and have it fixed. The Scarecrow is the first cameo that hasn't sucked. They actually worked him into the story well. Who the crap is "Scott Free" and what does he have to do with anything? Again, this is lame. The backgrounds are not as rich in this issue, can we go back to Hell with Scotum Face and the Artichoke of Wrath? Dr. destiny is seriously mental, y'all. I think the sequences where he's being pleasant are even ickier than... well, let's move ahead to the ick and pretend like the green Martian cameo (WTF????) never happened.

VI. 24 Hours- Illustrated by Mike Dringenberg and Malcolm Jones III

Okay, so Dr. Destiny or Dee or whoever has the ruby of magicness and he's doing terrible things at a diner. God, I want some roast chicken right now. That would great.... mmm... roasty... This is the issue where everyone said "ZOMG! It's horror! It's genius!!!" This much, I can say, unlike some people (I'm looking at you, Clive Barker, yet again) Gaiman writes horror that I can actually follow. I've had problems in the past (wait, was that a gate to Hell or they called up the thing with that other thing, hold on, I have to reread the last chapter.) This is scary stuff. It's also totally not what people usually want from Sandman. No fantasy. No perky Death, Just as random, naked evil guy with creepy eyeballs (I'm telling you, this eyeball thing is a fixation in comics.) One other thing worth noting, this is the first time I've noticed the 90's hair. You can't miss it. It's like 80's hair but bigger.

VII. Sound and Fury- Illustrated by Mike Dringenberg and Malcolm Jones III

Dream now has a full on case of the goths. It's a tragic disorder characterized by an unnatural compulsion to dye one's hair black, overuse styling products and shop at Hot Topic. I'll be hosting a telethon. Donate now! Scary naked guy ends up back at Arkham and the world is saved except for all those people who died before anyone got around to saving anyone.

VIII. The Sound of Her Wings- Illustrated by Mike dringenberg and Malcolm Jones III

This is the Sandman that we all remember. Perky death the quintessential nineties goth. A dark tone with an element of wistful fantasy. A lack of panels full of dripping eyeballs. This is totally different from the rest of the book. Different color palette. Different tone. More open space between illustrations. Some panels are less detailed but the overall look is much cleaner. This is the epilogue to the story, and a "feel good" to whatever extent death feels good story to wrap things up. You need it after the Dr. Destiny, the relentlessly ookie naked guy. Nevertheless, it still doesn't seem to match. I feel like this is the first book of another volume, rather than the end of this one. Also, some of Gaiman's dialogue is very stilted. For every great line (like when Death extolls the virtues of Mary Poppins) there's a clunker (" You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, appallingest excuse for an anthropomorphic personification..." yeah, I know, big words are funny ha-ha but it's stilted, doesn't match the rest of Death's dialogue and perky goth girls don't talk like this... even I didn't and I was more into my vocabulary than most)

Borders had this book out as an option for people who like Watchmen, because as we all know, all graphic novels are pretty much the same. To me, it's a very different genre in it's way. Watchmen is a brilliant use of the comic book hero type. In Sandman, comic conventions fall flat.The story is much more successful when it is entirely in it's own world. Worth reading? I finished it in an hour, so I can say that it's definitely interesting and engrossing. It was a fun trip back to the nineties.

The 'rents booked a cruise down the western coast of Mexico. Dad has been bitching ever since that he'd rather have booked a cruise to Canada. As of yesterday, their cruise has been re-routed to, you guessed it, Canada. Seriously, when he announced the news, I thought he was making that crap up. The best part is they have to fly down to LA, so they can get on the boat and cruise back up here. They have a shore excursion that day. They're thinking of dropping by the house for some face time with the dog. Seriously, that just ain't right.