Drooling on the Pillow

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Second Verse, Same As The First 

Jim's muse didn't exactly abandon him this morning, but she wasn't really cooperating either, getting stuck on the old Herman's Hermits skittle song, I'm Henry the 8th, I Am.

It turns out the group is still together (minus, since 1971, Peter Noone) and are doing, according to the web site, 200 dates a year. The picture on the web site looks like the staff at a California funeral home.

While my muse has been sleeping off a bender for most of the past week, dazed and inert, Jim's post caused her to stir for a moment and mutter.

I went to college in the late sixties. It was the age of educational experimentation. Well, experimentation was pretty much the template for just about everything. I was a theatre major. I think I mentioned before that the head of our department, Sister Marita of the Sisters of Loretta was the only member of Actor's Equity to also be a nun. She was about the cutest thing you ever saw in a wimple. My sophomore year she took off the habit. Junior year she quit the order. Senior year she got married. That's the arc we all were on.

I had a girlfriend who was spending her junior year abroad at the Sorbonne. I woke up one morning and decided I wanted to keep seeing her so I put in a proposal for an "independent study" in which I (and a friend) would spend junior year abroad "studying" European theatre. They loved the idea so I spent the year hitchhiking around Europe, having a blast and finding out my girlfriend was very bad news.

I came back and wrote a 50 page paper that was 90% fiction and got 18 hours of 'A'. All in all, I thought, a pretty slick deal.

The part that made my muse twitch this morning was that while in London we arranged an interview with Peter Noone, who was doing a John Guare play that I happened to have done just a few months before. He was still with Herman's Hermits, but obviously looking for a life after.

I think it's possible that my friend had misrepresented us as American journalists because there came a time early in the interview in which I saw a sag of recognition in his face, but I think it's also possible that he was glad that we didn't write for a teen mag. He was kind and charming and intelligent and gave us a certain amount of material we wouldn't have to later make up.

I leave it to you to decide if this is actually a blog by Peter Noone on his (purported) web site.

The only other event of note involving a celebrity on my amazing European adventure was getting kicked out of Stewart Granger's apartment in Paris.

Another time.

Correction: I lazily put Farley Granger in there instead of Stewart.
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