My LATEST TRIP TO DISNEYLAND 8/2/2015

Here's (above) my favorite destination at Disneyland: Tarzan's Treehouse. Everyone on the trip wanted to live up there.

It's a whole city in the sky. 

Lots of rope bridges, lots of leaves.

It's impossible to find a bad vantage point on this tree. The view is beautiful from every angle.

Even the structural elements (above) are interesting.

Here's the view from the very top. There's lush greenery everywhere. 

The walk back down is exciting beyond all expectation. The downward steps are steeper than the steps leading up, so the ground appears to rush toward you as you descend. You feel like you're in a controlled fall. There's a lot more verticals in the side tree trunks, too, and that heightens the effect.

Here's (above) the Royal Theatre in the part of the park I call "Princessneyland." We saw "Frozen" re-enacted here with live actors. 

Above, the actress who played the Princess. How do you like her costume? Boy, 18th Century Europeans really knew how to design. 

 

The vest design looks Polish. Poland was enormously influential in European folk art. 

Here's some awning covers from the outside of The Enchanted Tiki Room in
Adventureland.

Where can I buy that fabric?

In the Indiana Jones ride (above) there's a fenced off area showing Jones' office.

It kinda' makes you want to rethink your own workspace, doesn't it?

Is that a picture of John L. Sullivan on the wall?

Here's (above) the starting point of the Peter Pan ride. The ride begins with a glide over the London rooftops...

...and right into the open window of Wendy's bedroom. Well, actually it's an open wall. Gee, if only rooftops and rooms were really like that. Isn't there some way real-world architects could make that possible?

Here's (above) a window display from one of the shops on Main Street. It's a little too girly for my taste but, wait, there's more. The set is integrated with holographic pixie dust that transforms the characters. How do they do that?

Good old Disneyland! It never ceases to be inspiring!

MORE ABOUT TEEN ANGST

A couple of posts back I posted about my daughter's teenage angst. I haven't been able to get that out of my mind because it reminded me of a book of illustrations I found in the library a few years ago by Greg Hildebrandt, the well-known Tolkien illustrator. 

He said he painted a portrait of each of kids every three years of their childhood. I was shocked to see the pictures of his son Gregory. That's Gregory above at age...I'm guessing...nine or ten. He looks like an all American kid of his time, a cross between Tom Sawyer and the young Ray Bradbury.

A few years later, maybe at age 13 or 14 (I'm not sure) he painted his son again and look (above) how the picture turned out! Wow, what a difference! The teen Gregory looks full of self doubt and unfocused anger. Not only that but his face has morphed into something puffy and awkward...just like mine did at his age. Yikes! Just at the time of life when you're most concerned about your looks, nature deals you a bad hand.

Fortunately that look doesn't last long. Here he is as an adult and he looks fine again, even handsome. I'm sure he has no trouble getting women. The girls in the photo are his sisters.

Teenage years are full of depression and trauma and teens aren't generally fun to be around unless you're a teen yourself. In spite of that I sometimes think that if I were a full time teacher I'd still rather teach teens than anyone else. Maybe that's because teens are idealistic and philosophical and so am I, and I've discovered a couple of odd facts about teens that I've never seen in books.

The first fact is that teens don't snub all adults, just their parents. They're actually somewhat deferential to other adults they don't have a reason to dislike.

The second fact is that that teens are often listening in class when you don't think they're listening. They can be passing notes, watching videos on their laptops or even sleeping but if what you say interests them, they'll remember it...or at least be interested in hearing it again.

Okay, I'm sure the young Charles Manson was more difficult to handle than this, but this has been my experience with normal types.

HOW SHORT STORIES BEGIN

Here's the story I'm reading now. It starts with a vivid description of a lonely, dismal swamp on an overcast day. It's not the kind of place that attracts fisherman or tourists...the only thing it attracts are mosquitoes, dense clouds of them. A deputy drives by and sees a familiar face: Billy, an oddly quiet local boy who doesn't seem to mind the bugs.

That's all I've read so far but I'm amazed that the opening succeeds in being a grabber even though there's not a single original element in it. I guess some situations...the ramshackle mansion buffeted by a lightning storm, the frightened woman walking along a lonely street at night...are innately interesting and are not diminished by repetition. Interesting, eh?

Another story is about a night time driver in rural Louisiana who gets a flat tire and pulls over to the side of the road. He opens the trunk to get his spare tire and discovers...Gasp!...a woman's body. He has no idea who she is or how she got there.

Stranger still, her ID and papers identify her as his girlfriend who he's eloping with.  There's even a photo of the two of them together and that's his signature on the bottom...but how could that be? He's never seen her before.

If he calls the police they'll surely believe he murdered her. If he doesn't call and buries her instead, she'll be discovered and there's not a jury on Earth that would acquit him. What should he do?

The next story is about a suicide jumper in a big 1950s American city. A crowd forms on the opposite side of the street.

Police with a megaphone are unable to talk the guy down so they call his wife and ask her to come out. When that doesn't work somebody gets the idea of calling his mistress. After all, a man often won't listen to his wife, but his mistress...well, that's a different thing. Unfortunately the two women meet and there's only one megaphone.

Here's the last story: A young man breaks a pawnshop window and takes a fist full of diamonds. A passer-by sees the crime, chases the kid and captures him just as the police arrive. The problem is that the kid hasn't got the diamonds on him when he's caught, even though he was never out of the sight of witnesses. His captor doesn't have them either and they're not hidden anywhere. So, where did they go?

I'll give you a hint: broken glass looks the same as diamonds...only there's a lot more to the story than that.

Nifty, eh?

ONE OF MY FAVORITE MUSICAL NUMBERS

I'm so grateful to Tom Minton and John for introducing me to this song: It's "Thanks a Lot but no Thanks" from MGM's "It's always Fair Weather," sung by Dolores Gray. 

I'll put up a few snapshots and a small sample of the lyrics.

Dolores throws her arm up and a big, brassy orchestral blast kicks in.

There she goes, right into the De Chirico background as the curtains part. 

Her sidemen drop from the sky, somersault, and slide into scene...

DOLORES GRAY (ALTERNATES SONG AND SPEECH)

 ...until she's surrounded by them. They freeze in place...

...then they leap to their feet and do a manic scramble exit.

Three rush back and strike a cool pose. They're hoping she'll dump her old boyfriend and go out with them.

On the line "Thanks a lot but but no thanks" Dolores banishes the men with a flick of her arm.

Three new sidemen rush in and strike immensely cool poses. I'll dispense with the lyrics so I can concentrate on the visuals.

These guys make a great counterpoint to what's going on in the song. Seeing this reminds me of my promise to myself that if I become rich I'll have a have a troop of chorus girls  follow me around all day, ready to back me up with choreography in case I decide to sing or emphasize a point.

The men do some great moves then Dolores banishes them again with another "Thanks a lot but no Thanks!"

Now (above) some of the sidemen waddle walk back in. Dolores sings about the man she loves.

Some great moves by the side men, then she dismisses them too.

Actually, she shoots them. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

It doesn't do her any good because a whole bunch of new sidemen strut in from behind camera. 

They try to impress Dolores...

...but it's no deal...she's not buying it. She's loyal to the man she loves, who's "like Marlon Brando and Clifton Webb combiiiiined."

She banishes them. too.

Undeterred, new sidemen appear from trapdoors and offer Dolores expensive jewelry.

Nope! She's not interested. Her man has what it takes to top that.

Dynamite! Just the thing to get rid of those pests!

Haw!

In desperation the horny sidemen make one last appeal, en masse. It's no use. She pulls a lever and the men are banished to the Netherworld.

'Thanks a lot but no thanks!"

Then the big finish: "No...NO...THAAAANKS!!!!!" 

Good stuff, eh?

MY KID'S TEENAGE ANGST

I'm a longtime fan of my daughter's caricatures of me. The earliest ones, like the one above, had a particularly sunny and happy quality, and she liked to try different techniques with each one.  Here she gave the whole face beard stubble, including the nose. "Yeah," I think to myself, "why shouldn't a nose have stubble?"

As the years went by she got more polish. Here's (above) one she did in a fast food restaurant. I asked her to draw me looking dignified and intellectual and that's exactly what she did. Haw! 

But...uh oh!...dark clouds were on the horizon. Another year passed and this time (above) I found myself depicted as old and hideous...the personification of a rigid and oppressive authority figure. It was the onset of my kid's teenage angst.

Haw! The sketch wasn't without interest, though. I like the thinning hair at the top being represented by little pubic wire worms. Interesting, eh?

I did this (above) one. It's not a very good drawing but I include it because it captures my kid in the  3 or 4 rebellious years when she stopped drawing and took herself very seriously. She read only the great Russian novels...read them in her room with the door closed, I should add.

I was despairing that I'd lost my caricature buddy when one day she asked if she could draw me. I was ecstatic when I saw the result (above). The hormones had obviously receded and my kid's charm and enthusiasm were back. She did another thinking pose, this time using a tiny little hand to convey the intention. Nice. Very nice.