in showcaseland, we heart gay men.

but lesbians do not exist.


Tonight, I took the 6 train home. I took my antibodies, and had myself a chocolate feast.
My sinusitus is gawn, the showcase is almost done, and in one week, I'll be taking my final classes at Nei-Play.
Hey-o!

i got the noise to make you scream and shout

I'm so excited. We had our second Hair rehearsal. Everyone is "Walking in Space." I can see this show taking shape already, like some weird dream I've already had and am now piecing together - plucking stars from the corners of my life, and putting them all in a pot together. They look so beautiful. They sound so beautiful. I'm expecting ecstatic madness.

Despite a touch of the Nei-Plague, and some weird schedule changes (Pinter was absent, which is very odd...perhaps the Nei-Plague really got him?), today was something of a significant step in the right direction. After leaving Sess's apartment (we had "Godot" rehearsal, which makes me SO ecstatically happy. She and I should really do the whole show, with Sweetheart & Swank as Lucky & Pozzo), I called up Man and gushed, as he and I are apt to do to one another:

"Dude, I am SO COOL!"

"Dude, you ARE so cool. And I am so cool!"

"I know!"

And we confirm one another's coolness, and we feel good. And then he has to go stand on an amp and be tech director again, and I have to get to my apartment and make some dinner and do my paperwork. It's a random, but life-affirming process.

But I'm not done gushing. So I call Swank, and as soon as he picks up the phone, I know he's got the same thing going on in his stomach as I do. He's listening to "Walking in Space," and reading Michael Butler's website.

"Can you feel this? It's happening."

"I know. It's really going to happen."



It's really going to happen.

Oh my God.

life lessons episode 1

Thursday, I learned it is important to go see shows, even when they are not the world's most amazing shows, especially if you've been given free tickets. "Talk Radio" is okay. It's super Bogosian. Liev Schrieber was excellent. I know a kid in it, from a tiny production of Marat/Sade I saw, and from friends at Fordham.

Last night, I learned when everyone is coming down with the Nei-Plague, although your better judgement says "Stay home, don't tempt fate," if you take it easy enough..."300" and a hookah bar won't do you any damage whatsoever. In fact, Turkish tea, loads of Middle Eastern dancing, and shouting "SPARTA!!" as you rotate the Astor Place cube will actually IMPROVE your health.

This morning, I learned two new words:

RABBLE and BRIGAND.

Never let it be said that "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" wasn't an education.

when you cut the lights out, think of me

SCISSOR SISTERS.

Swank shows up at five thirty. I have a corset on, and my pajama shorts, and I'm running around whining that I have nothing to wear, even though my closet is like a costume shop. By 6:22, the lunar eclipse has occured without my watching, I'm doing Swank's eyeliner, and we have finished one bottle of champagne and half a bottle of Hypnosis, which looks like liquid Smurf.

We hop the train to MSG. I don't know how we make it into the venue, because all of New York is blurry to me. Swank tries to convince a clerk in Duane Reade to let us use the bathroom, but I say no...no...we're almost there...and whirl us around Pennsylvania Station to the Garden Theater entrance. We ticket, we escalate, and every ten seconds, I am sure that I'm going to lose him, so I become all catlike, and sharp within my fuzziness - I can spot a dirty blond in eyeliner from a mile away. We stand in line for more drinks - not my idea - pop a half a pill, and make friends with everyone around us. Mitch in a red hat. Jim, from Boston, who saw the Sisters at the Siren festival, like Swank and I had planned to do last summer.

We try to find seats. At one point, I am crawling along the floor, attempting to find our seat number. The people around me start mumbling to each other - "Did she fall?" Swank turns and picks me up.

"Did you fall?"
"I'm just trying to find our seats!"

This is folly, because even though I read the ticket four times, I can't figure out which number is our seat number. And it's dark, and I'm surrounded by grown-ups. Swank sits us down, someplace, the wrong place. We make more friends. HE makes friends, rather, and introduces me to them. He vanishes several times. People come by and say that I am sitting in their seats. By way of further crawling about, I find the real seats. Swank finds me. The Sisters come on with "Paul McCartney."

Throughout the night, they play "Laura," "Tits on the Radio," "She's My Man," "Kiss You Off," "Filthy/Gorgeous," (complete with monologue!) "I Can't Decide," "The Other Side," "Lights," some other stuff, and as encores, "Take Your Mama" and "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'." I'm in singalong heaven. I drunk dial Man, and probably a lot of other people.

Later, after convincing Swank that he is not a drunken idiot (although we probably both are), a slice of pizza, random Irish pub with random concert people, we finally cab to Jon's. Italiana is walking to get cigarettes, and cries out when she sees us. Inside is a room full of friends! Stormy, Daisy, Sessoms, Hugh, Spunky & Sprightly, Kiwi, Swedish Steel (what he was doing there, I'm not entirely sure...), a whole bunch of others...

It was grand.

I'm tired.

I have work I gotta do.

loosen up my buttons, babe

but you keep frontin
sayin what you gon' do to me
but i ain't seen nothin'



The juxtaposition of such wicked bad dance pop along with the type of day I've had is weird.

The morning began strangely. I woke up an hour late, which never ever happens. Jetted out the door with Metro in a cab, Boss opting to nurse one of her many many illnesses and steer clear of "stage combat" class. I checked my bag for scripts. Check. Checked my brain for what the day entailed.

It's a rough thing, a fult tilt NP day. If you do it right. By the time I get to the point where I can sit on my bed and try to complete non-NP work, I have:

1. read, had critiqued and re-read a Showcase scene
2. written another Showcase scene
3. learned Spanish choreography
4. played class stage manager
5. gotten my Joan LaPucelle monologue on its' feet for Gary
6. rehearsed "Danny & the Deep Blue Sea"
7. done 40 minutes of alignment
8. bought and read half of a teacher-recommended book on myths & folklore

So then I talk to my primary collaborator - Ms. Mom - and get the lowdown on the pages she needs for the Hunter show she's directing and I'm writing. I get a phone call from Ms. Nasty, and arrange to help her with her choreography. I re-read a Greek myth, cross-reference online, write the scenes Ms. Mom needs, make notes in the Hair diary, practice my song for NP twice and somewhere in there, cook dinner and do laundry.

AAAAAAAAGHHHHH.

Inventory makes it even more frightening. I know we only have a month of class left, so I have to remember NOT to think about it, and merely soldier on. Because a lot of REALLY REALLY good shit is going on, and I thank God & the fates for that. Pausing to take stock is not an option.

Although, on Saturday, for my birthday event, pausing to take drugs IS an option.

Judge away...with seven days of my schedule, I reserve my right to recreate when I turn double 2s.