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Okay, the stars are just aligned perfectly right now or something. Maybe it's the luck of the slightly Irish, or the Welsh or something. :P
So, this weekend is just kinda fucking amazing. I'd planned with Alan lat week to go to the Whitney and the Met yesterday, Friday 4/11, in order to be able to write our Writing the Essay pages on the exhibits we were supposed to go see. There was some really cool stuff at the Whitney Biennial. Here's the background: for our last Writing the Essay paper we're supposed to pick an artist in any medium, and write an 8-10 page paper about them in cultural context. Due to obvious current obsessions, I picked TMBG. We're also supposed to try and get an interview with our artist, because it would be helpful to whatever our argument may happen to be. Earlier in the week, I had received my final "I don't think I can help you. Good luck with your paper." e-mail from TMBG's publicist.
Anyway...so my friend and I are talking about the ridiculous busy-ness that is taking place next weekend what with needing to finish a MIDI song, probably going to Comic Con on Friday, the concert I've been helping to plan for Earth Week on Saturday, Cinderella either Friday night or Saturday night, and the two TMBG shows on Sunday. So, we arrive at the Whitney. As we walk in, I do a double take and attempt to contain my amazement by merely clapping a hand over my mouth. Alan turns to me and goes, "Uh, what the hell?" I go, "Oh, that's only John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants standing right next to the entrance of the Whitney, looking like he's waiting for someone."
"You just got denied your interview by the publicist, right?"
"Yeah..."
"This is a better way to make connections. Go get your interview." Alan physically pushed me back towards the entrance. I looked back at him, expecting him to be following me to lend a bit of support, but he'd veered towards the tickets line. Good thing Fridays are fee at the Whitney, I'd feel bad if he'd had to actually buy me a ticket.
So, I walked up to Mr. Flansburgh, and proceeded to make an awkward fool of myself. Especially for someone trying to be a professional in the same industry as him. Oh well, I'll do better next time.
"Um, excuse me." Flans turned to look at me. "Hi, I, um, I'm a fan." He obviously wasn't expecting this, and took a moment to realize what I meant. "Oh, Hi. I'm John." He extended his hand and I say "Michelle." as I shake it. I had a moment of Well, um, of course I know your name is John! Why are you introducing yourself?
"It's nice to meet you." He says, probably ready for me to leave now and continue waiting for whoever.
"Actually, I'm writing a paper about you guys right now."
Flans looks intrigued. "Really? Why?"
"Well, my professor said to pick an artist and write about them, so..." I shrug.
"Huh, well okay."
"Yeah, we're supposed to take an artist and basically put them in cultural context while forming some argument about them."
"Oh, that's kinda cool. What class is this for?" Flans still seemed to think it was odd that anyone would be writing about They Might Be Giants.
"Writing the Essay, but since I'm in Tisch at NYU it's a bit more arts geared overall. Also," I put on a hopeful look, "I was wondering if I could maybe get an interview to supplement the paper."
"Oh, yeah sure, that'd be cool."
"Awesome!"
"Were you thinking over e-mail? Or...?"
"Oh, uh, e-mail, in-person, phone...anything really."
"Well, let me give you my e-mail address and go ahead and contact me."
I dug around in my giant purse that doesn't look like it should be so large, pulled out my notebook and found a pen. I handed it over after opening it to the last page, and he wrote down his name and two e-mail addresses, explaining that he checks different ones in different places, so to go ahead and e-mail him at both. He also spelled out the beginning of the address aloud, in case I couldn't read it. This may actually have been a problem, so I'm glad he did. I'm also highly amused by what he uses as his e-mail address, but I'll be a good professional and keep it a secret. As I take my notebook back once he finishes, I say "Thank you SOO much."
"No problem."
"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks."
"What? Where?" He seemed confused. I had a moment where I thought he'd forgotten about his own shows the next week, but realized it must be because I didn't have a kid with me, nor do I look like I'd be likely to have a kid at my age.
"Oh, at the Town Hall shows."
He kinda laughed at me. "But those are little kids shows!"
I just grinned at him. "So?"
Flans shrugged, "I guess it's just not my cup of tea. Nice to meet you. Just remind me that you're Michelle from the Whitney when you e-mail and I'll know who you are."
"Alright thanks."
I walked back to the ticket line where Alan met me with a ticket, and we headed up to look at the Biennial exhibit. Later, I spotted Flans walking around with a woman I assume was Robin Goldwasser, his wife. I also spent the rest of the time we were at either the Whitney or the Met randomly grinning and dancing or skipping or, just oozing joy. I believe I kept Alan quite amused. Had I had Jon's phone number before this morning, I would have texted or called him right away. But I couldn't, so I had to wait until I got back to my dorm around 9:30 (It happened around 6:15) to tell Elyssa the good news. We had earlier been talking about how I'd jinxed getting the interview through Chris from Girlie Action by telling too many people about the possibility, so I knew she'd be excited at my luck as well.
Now, I just have to think up a good amount of questions for them. If you think of one that might be good, go ahead and let me know, because I'm having a bit of trouble and I should probably send the e-mail ASAP. In other news, the rest of this weekend is awesome because I'm visiting Jon at Stony Brook for the night, and tomorrow night I'll be helping Erik in my program shoot a music video. Then this Thursday I might get to dance onstage with my friend's band in order to get into the 21+ show. I'm not sure, I need to talk to Richard about that.
So, this weekend is just kinda fucking amazing. I'd planned with Alan lat week to go to the Whitney and the Met yesterday, Friday 4/11, in order to be able to write our Writing the Essay pages on the exhibits we were supposed to go see. There was some really cool stuff at the Whitney Biennial. Here's the background: for our last Writing the Essay paper we're supposed to pick an artist in any medium, and write an 8-10 page paper about them in cultural context. Due to obvious current obsessions, I picked TMBG. We're also supposed to try and get an interview with our artist, because it would be helpful to whatever our argument may happen to be. Earlier in the week, I had received my final "I don't think I can help you. Good luck with your paper." e-mail from TMBG's publicist.
Anyway...so my friend and I are talking about the ridiculous busy-ness that is taking place next weekend what with needing to finish a MIDI song, probably going to Comic Con on Friday, the concert I've been helping to plan for Earth Week on Saturday, Cinderella either Friday night or Saturday night, and the two TMBG shows on Sunday. So, we arrive at the Whitney. As we walk in, I do a double take and attempt to contain my amazement by merely clapping a hand over my mouth. Alan turns to me and goes, "Uh, what the hell?" I go, "Oh, that's only John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants standing right next to the entrance of the Whitney, looking like he's waiting for someone."
"You just got denied your interview by the publicist, right?"
"Yeah..."
"This is a better way to make connections. Go get your interview." Alan physically pushed me back towards the entrance. I looked back at him, expecting him to be following me to lend a bit of support, but he'd veered towards the tickets line. Good thing Fridays are fee at the Whitney, I'd feel bad if he'd had to actually buy me a ticket.
So, I walked up to Mr. Flansburgh, and proceeded to make an awkward fool of myself. Especially for someone trying to be a professional in the same industry as him. Oh well, I'll do better next time.
"Um, excuse me." Flans turned to look at me. "Hi, I, um, I'm a fan." He obviously wasn't expecting this, and took a moment to realize what I meant. "Oh, Hi. I'm John." He extended his hand and I say "Michelle." as I shake it. I had a moment of Well, um, of course I know your name is John! Why are you introducing yourself?
"It's nice to meet you." He says, probably ready for me to leave now and continue waiting for whoever.
"Actually, I'm writing a paper about you guys right now."
Flans looks intrigued. "Really? Why?"
"Well, my professor said to pick an artist and write about them, so..." I shrug.
"Huh, well okay."
"Yeah, we're supposed to take an artist and basically put them in cultural context while forming some argument about them."
"Oh, that's kinda cool. What class is this for?" Flans still seemed to think it was odd that anyone would be writing about They Might Be Giants.
"Writing the Essay, but since I'm in Tisch at NYU it's a bit more arts geared overall. Also," I put on a hopeful look, "I was wondering if I could maybe get an interview to supplement the paper."
"Oh, yeah sure, that'd be cool."
"Awesome!"
"Were you thinking over e-mail? Or...?"
"Oh, uh, e-mail, in-person, phone...anything really."
"Well, let me give you my e-mail address and go ahead and contact me."
I dug around in my giant purse that doesn't look like it should be so large, pulled out my notebook and found a pen. I handed it over after opening it to the last page, and he wrote down his name and two e-mail addresses, explaining that he checks different ones in different places, so to go ahead and e-mail him at both. He also spelled out the beginning of the address aloud, in case I couldn't read it. This may actually have been a problem, so I'm glad he did. I'm also highly amused by what he uses as his e-mail address, but I'll be a good professional and keep it a secret. As I take my notebook back once he finishes, I say "Thank you SOO much."
"No problem."
"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks."
"What? Where?" He seemed confused. I had a moment where I thought he'd forgotten about his own shows the next week, but realized it must be because I didn't have a kid with me, nor do I look like I'd be likely to have a kid at my age.
"Oh, at the Town Hall shows."
He kinda laughed at me. "But those are little kids shows!"
I just grinned at him. "So?"
Flans shrugged, "I guess it's just not my cup of tea. Nice to meet you. Just remind me that you're Michelle from the Whitney when you e-mail and I'll know who you are."
"Alright thanks."
I walked back to the ticket line where Alan met me with a ticket, and we headed up to look at the Biennial exhibit. Later, I spotted Flans walking around with a woman I assume was Robin Goldwasser, his wife. I also spent the rest of the time we were at either the Whitney or the Met randomly grinning and dancing or skipping or, just oozing joy. I believe I kept Alan quite amused. Had I had Jon's phone number before this morning, I would have texted or called him right away. But I couldn't, so I had to wait until I got back to my dorm around 9:30 (It happened around 6:15) to tell Elyssa the good news. We had earlier been talking about how I'd jinxed getting the interview through Chris from Girlie Action by telling too many people about the possibility, so I knew she'd be excited at my luck as well.
Now, I just have to think up a good amount of questions for them. If you think of one that might be good, go ahead and let me know, because I'm having a bit of trouble and I should probably send the e-mail ASAP. In other news, the rest of this weekend is awesome because I'm visiting Jon at Stony Brook for the night, and tomorrow night I'll be helping Erik in my program shoot a music video. Then this Thursday I might get to dance onstage with my friend's band in order to get into the 21+ show. I'm not sure, I need to talk to Richard about that.
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