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.

call on me/call on me

This afternoon, I woke up and stumbled towards my bathroom mirror. After a good three minute stare, I turned around, fetched my camera, and took the best re-creation photo I could manage.

It's been a weekend, let me tell ya. And it ain't over til it's over.

About my last post: I found out that Argentino is actually from Venezuela. Oops. Nevertheless, he remains out of school, in hospital care, but I hear he's doing well.


I began said weekend with a glass of water at Local, our first-year watering hole. Then Fubar came. Then Jon's apartment, with Swank leading the way. Then we journey down to the West Village, as suddenly the earth-melting weather turned back to normal December-style and my flimsy white faux-leather jacket was not helping out with the 60 mph wind gusts...oh no. But we journey to...somewhere...into a pub that existed during Prohibition, and is thus concealed - no sign, no markings, no nothing, just a black door and the number 86. But it's groovy, and even though I'm not wild for beer, I drink it cuz they make it there.

The evening winds up with the reasonable return-home time of 1:15 AM, a few phone calls, and lights out.

The next day, I've given up my work post, so I spend it relaxedly, practicing my dance, hanging with the bro, and when it gets to evening time, I'm still pretty tired. I'm thinking of flaking on Ms. Nasty. But she is turning 21, but I've gotten us on this list...for Anna Rexia is hosting Rated X downtown...and the Boss is getting the dance party started...and everyone's comin up to the el barrio pad...

Oh, and before I know it, it's 5 AM, and I've gotten nothing but free drinks, and a free shot of JD, and Metro won a hundred dollars in the hot body contest, and I've danced onstage with people I ran into from FORDHAM of all places, and I'm stumbling over myself at Fat Cat as we go to drop off Ms. Nasty with Dee, his boyfriend Mee (I'm serious, those are REAL names), Martha & her first-year boy, Jive, and then Kiwi and I go and crash out on this couch where there's jazz being played...

And I am spilling into my bed with a brownie I baked days ago for a bake sale that never happened.



Now, the laundry, and the homework, and the realization that I have to perform tonight.