my weekend (a pictorial journey)

I would just like to start by saying that I put in fourteen hours of overtime this weekend. It looked like this:
Actually, multiply that by two, because I took this picture on Saturday night (and did more work on Sunday).

That said, my brain is a little fried, and I may rely more heavily on photos than words for this post.

Friday night I went with my friend Ryan to see our comedy group perform their Parents' Weekend show at Yale. They were great, but the group was very different from when we were in it. Less musical, more questions, less physicality and just a generally different approach to improvisation. Which, I think, is the nature of a beast that does a complete overhaul every five years.
Ryan:

(sorry boys and girls, he's married)

The current Purple Crayon of Yale:
Luckily, I look surprised for this picture, but I wasn't. I happened to just be talking to Ryan. (Although by the look on his face, I must have been saying something startling.)

The one cool thing (besides seeing Ryan and feeling like college was a hundred million billion years ago) was that way, way back in the day (i.e., when I was in the group) we had a meeting on the night we were picking our new members, and someone had brought grapes and Nilla wafers, as the debate over new members often went late into the night. I was getting bored (I guess) and decided it would be really tasty to make a Nilla wafer/grape sandwich. (It wasn't.) Ten years later, though, eating them is a tradition and not just a semi-happy accident.

(It's not disgusting, by the way. It's just not something you'd come up with unless you were trapped in a room with ten other people whose ideas were very different from your own and you had exhausted any urge within yourself to argue with them. Surrender food.)

An odd room at Yale:
Saturday night (after working six ZILLION hours -- at time and a half, not double time as I was counting on!), I went with Andrea to the encampment, an art installation on Roosevelt Island. It was a really neat, site-specific piece, with thirty or so illuminated canvas tents set up on a strip of land, bordered by river on both sides. A view of Manhattan to the right and Queens to the left, a perfect breeze on a very warm evening, and these glowing tents made the night awesome. (Andrea and I both agreed that the "art" on the inside of the tents, which was supposed to tell the story of an inhabitant of Roosevelt Island in the days of the workhouse/madhouse/prison/orphanage, reminded us of fourth grade science projects.)

Here's Andrea in a tent full of portraits of crazy ladies:
(Boy, she sure is kee-razy!)

And here're the remains of the old sanitarium:
And here's some frowny faced mustard. It was part of the "art." (Apparently the inmates said their food was as palatable as mustard and vinegar.)
Sunday morning, before heading back to work, I had brunch with my friend Alex from Buffalo, and we headed off to BAM to see if he wanted to catch any of the movies playing there while I was at work. He didn't, but there was this really cool sculpture made out of records:
It's called "Sound Wave." I heart it.

And, before walking over the Manhattan bridge (which is NOT romantic, but that's ok, since Alex has a girlfriend -- I'm just telling you all for future notice) we caught sight of this guy:
Isn't it cool what you can capture when you accidentally carry your camera with you?