in 1904, leaving Ludwig and his brother with their mother who takes the children to Regensburg.  Ludwig hates school in Germany and is eventually sent to his father in the States.



Tintin sitting in the French Memoir section, inexplicably accompanied by a work of Cornelia Otis Skinner's, and Ludwig Bemelmans' "To the One I Love the Best: Episodes from the life of Lady Mendl (Elsie de Wolfe)."

Not everyone is rigorous about shelving their books -- double shelving in fact (all of Henry Green is behind little Tintin, possibly accounting for his slightly goosed pose) -- but since they say authors talk to each other at night why not give them a chance to mingle.  You can just imagine, can't you, what Ludwig and Cornelia would have to say to Saint-Simon.  Or, okay, maybe not. 

It's Saturday and another foggy day in London Town except this isn't London, and because I have Big Things to Do today I'm prevaricating my way through the wee gray hours.

E-Mail, I have been informed, is SO old-fashioned.  From the Age of Dinosaurs.  And Blogging has too many words.  Now it's all about Twitter and IM and FaceThis (or that or something).  So much for my stab at analyzing New Media and Its Forms of yesterday.  The "Millennials" -- those joining the work force post 2000, born in the 80s -- have little patience for the Old Ones just catching on.  Those who type with more than our thumbs.  "Ah youth, youth," says a character in Chekhov's Sea Gull.  "When people have nothing left to say, they always say, 'Ah youth, youth."

I played Medevenko in a production once.  My character had the first line: "Why do you always wear black?"  He's addressing this young woman he longs for in an unrequited way because he's the lowly schoolmaster.  "Because I'm in mourning for my life," she replies.  "I'm unhappy."  I always thought her line should get a laugh.

By the way, a new favorite site is The Tintinologist.  It's an unofficial site, but still worth a look if you're a Tintin fan.  I once met a "dancer" from Montreal who dressed just like Tintin when he wasn't on-stage -- the same brown pants and aquamarine pullover and haircut (a faux hawk but not quite).  And an elaborate dragon tattoo down his back (sort of like the Japanese comic book assassin Crying Freeman except on his back instead of on his chest) which scrolled down and ended ... well, it was not very Tintin but it was pretty fantastic.

Anyway at the end of Sea Gull when the character Constantine goes off stage and shoots himself while the rest of the cast is on stage playing cards -- at this one performance the Prop Master couldn't find the gun to make the sound effect, so in a panic she whacked a spare piece of lumber as hard as she possibly could against the concrete floor backstage.  

At which point another character is supposed to run on with the line, "Constantine has shot himself!"  

You can imagine there was something less-than-inspired in the improvisation, "Constantine has just beaten himself to death with a two-by-four."

But sometimes there's just no time to think things through.  You're young and thinking on your feet.  You say the first thing that comes into your head.  And yes, there are probably even times when running off with the governess seems like a good idea.