award show thought

I would really like to win one of those, like, right before a big Nei-Play reunion or something. A Tony. Yeah. I said it. I would like two other people I know to win some also. And I'd like 'em all to be for the same show.

I would file this under "do-able."

Come on. Don't act like you don't want one too.
You know you spend tonight planning your speech.
You wouldn't be a normal performing artist if you didn't.


We did a wicked-fun photo shoot this morning for the PG project (Boy, Man, Aussie, PJ, Babydoll, and Boy's boy all took part)....for which it was difficult to wake up on time, as I spent last night watching the Nei-Play Shetacular 2008 and drinking altogether too much. Last night actually marked my first time ever leaving Blackstone's in a good mood. As I reflected to Man when we arrived home, it was much due to the fact that I {well, we} were able to do 'the fun part' of acting like single people, but still wind up at home with each other. I will be the first to admit, I flirted SHAMELESSLY with a couple of people (cough...cough...Kiwi...cough), then ran around with Man actually unhooking girls' bra straps...yeah. And I managed to exit the bar in this jovial mood! Most nights I've spent in a shameless flirt at Blackstone's end up with me, or one of my girlfriends, crying or almost-crying, and storming home drunk and unhappy. So score for changing history!

Um...over n out.

second morning

There's a thing I do that I think must be very specific to freelancers and people in the arts. It's called the Second Morning.

So you get up for the first time. You're running just barely on time to make a morning appointment for your Bread Job, an audition, a rehearsal, a something. The Something takes an hour or two, you finally eat something. You head home. Then, when you put your key in the door, the Second Morning begins. It's still very much daylight, and it's although it's 2 or 3 or 4 PM, the house is still in a state of 10 AM. You make coffee. Maybe you even get back in your pajamas. Take that shower you didn't have time to take when you breezed out for the First Morning. You check your email.

I love Second Mornings. I'm already on the go, so I'm more inspired to do all the personal work I have to do - theatre paperwork, character research and the like - but there's not that nasty time factor when there's a pressing outside world appointment impending. The outside world has been handled. Now all I have is a show to attend tonight, when the sun is down. The day is mine, and I can face the rest of it in sweatpants.

-----------------------

The Playhouse time is fairly complete. I got a strange cameo role in the Final Plays - I'm the Madonna in a Pintauro short called "Fiat." I am slightly disappointed, but I think it might turn out to be a surprise. And I can't look a gift horse in the mouth here. I'm involved in three other productions that require my immediate attention, and I've totally neglected them in favor of being a Nei-Play slave. Now I've been given the time to work on these things. And get a real job. So, to add to the list I made months ago, 2007 shows now include:

#6: "Footloose" at Talent Unlimited High School
I will be: the costume designer

#7: Undetermined Real Theater Company Straight Play, starring Sessoms
I will be: the director/producer

and work for "Greece is the Word," (formerly known as "Untitled Greek Mythology Play") at Hunter Elementary, and the RTC production of "Hair" are in full swing.

-------------------------

Mom & I are each other's primary collaborators. I usually have a second and a third floating around, and it seems the primaries in 2007 are definitely Sessoms and Swank. I got very lucky, because...they both kick major ass, for very different reasons. The things I have in development for 2008 and beyond seem so much more possible because of the two of them.

Last night, after our final Gary Ramsey presentation (oh thank heaven!), Swank, Sweetheart, Daisy & I met up with Sessoms at Blackstone's...in daylight, which was truly bizarre. The bar was full of suits, so we ate our food, drank our beer and headed up to my place. Boss & Metro are in Disneyworld, so it was a weird Maggie Moon-hosted party, and Swank became my co-host (I bought eggs to dye and halfway through our shared bottle of Hypnotiq, had a very difficult time figuring out how to hard-boil them, so he assisted). With Sessoms came the ever-mysterious Professor and another first year, Goldlist. Somewhere along the line, far into the alcohol, past the egg-dye, the SceneIt! and the altercation with my {gap-toothed lazy bitchass} next door neighbor, Sessoms & Professor are in the bathroom having one of their talks, Daisy & Sweetheart are thumbing through my Hippie book together, and Swank and I are dancing about. Goldlist exclaims, in frustration:

"This is just great. Here I am with the adorable redheads, the glam-rock biters, and the crazy drama couple. Great."

Later, when it was nothing but the biters hanging out, I spilled my life dream for Swank's perusal. He got a grin on his face that made me feel like a magician.


Today, I got a job at the Central Park Boathouse. Looks like Daisy, my old directorial pal Nikki, and me shall be hash slinging hostesses this summer. Unless something more lucrative comes along.

I'm imagining myself living in abundance...

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.

christmas party

Can you have an emotional hangover from a party?

Aren't parties supposed to be...I don't know...fun? Sometimes they're fun. Sometimes they're just not. I keep counting my uh, chickens, or something, on last night, and something ain't adding up. Which could have something to do with why I've been randomly sobbing today, in between Christmas shopping, calling everyone I know, and taking a shower at Sessoms house. Because when I awoke this morning, the situation was:

Item - One (1) Kiwi, in his chic black boxers, asleep on my living room futon.
Item - Two (2) useless showers, because of complete lack of hot water in the building.
Item - Two (2) cupcakes, baked and iced last night, that I proceeded to consume as I surveyed the scene.
Item - One (1) Boss asleep with
Item - One (1) Metro in her room.
Item - Twelve (12) items of clothing, discarded in angry, exhausted huff.

What the hell, dude? I keep coming home from these functions in angry exhausted huffs. Or I come home face-meltingly drunk, and make with the drunk dials.

Okay, so it wasn't all a waste. In fact, there were some fine moments. Swank & Sweetheart's Queens apartment was the locale for this fundraiser, and it was decorated excellently. Daisy D. and I showed up with mass amounts of baked goods I had spent the day creating. By the end of the night, Daisy D. and Hugh were going at it like there was no tomorrow in every darkened corner - I had more than one "EEK!" moment, where I opened the wrong door and discovered Hugh atop my friend. We applaud this union, be it a one time or no, because it is a nice finger in the face of Vegas, who treated our dear Daisy like shite.

Sessoms and the Professor had their usual brush with the dramatic before she somehow, three drinks in, stumbled into sickness, and spent the rest of the soiree yakking on the roof. Oof. The Professor, on his way down the stairs with Girlfriend, grabbed my arm and said to me, most seriously:

"She's really sick. Please go up there."

Ay-ay Captain. Jon & I are due for a cigarette and a chat at this point (I've already had angry, dramatic run-in with Swank, who is being a dickface to me for reasons I can't even begin to understand, other than occasionally, the man seems to have a period), and we find Sessoms on her rooftop corner, covered in Nelly's jacket.

Nelly is actually the adorable first-year boy who hooks up with Jeff, one of our two uncloseted Second Years, both of whom I adore.

The cast of characters gets crazy at these functions. It's like fucking War and Peace.

Why would that jacket matter? Why at all?

Because at 4 in the morning, I am standing there with a mop in hand, a smattering of the strong around me, cleaning the party off the floor. I've spent ten minutes helping locate Nelly's jacket, then sent he and Jeff off to Brooklyn to get down. Swank has vanished into the Astoria night with a small man who would give Nelly a run for his money in a Fae contest, and Sweetheart turns to me.

"Okay, be honest with me, Maggie, because I'm so confused. Have you ever hooked up with Swank?"

I proceed to burst into tears.

I wish Beaux had been with me the whole night, like was once maybe, kinda sorta, vaguely planned. Hell, I might not have gotten to have my fun "Let's Get It On" dance moment with Numbers, but I definitely would have avoided the Foyer of Ultimate Doom conversation with Kiwi, and I definitely, DEFINITELY would not have been there, crying, with a mop, at 4 in the morning. No. I would've been the one getting some in closets. I would've awoken the next morning perhaps still with cold water, but one of those cupcakes would've been for Beaux, and my Christmas tights, tube dress, and pretty underwear wouldn't have been such a complete waste of time.

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.