The Eccentricities of the Intern Pt. 2

New Title: The Eccentricities of an Intern. SCENE II:

(IGUANA enters the subway car with SUPERVISOR. He stares aimlessly around the car looking for some kind of way to divert the possibility to faking a conversation. Relentlessly IGUANA has tried to make smalltalk with this man and failed repeatedly.

Along side the both of them stands ELBERT. He is a completely odd figure, with long curly hair and he never speaks unless spoken to. He is a theater fan with a fierce passion for Spring Awakening. Where IGUANA has failed in conversation with his SUPERVISOR, he finds ELBERT impossible to even look at.)

IGUANA: (Stares out the window) I love elevated trains.

SUPER: Did you-- (Speaks so inabudibly that IGUANA can't hear though he's next to him. ELBERT somehow hears and nods his head. SUPERVISOR looks at IGUANA for a response.)

IGUANA: So how many stops to Woodside?

SUPER: Only 17 uh-- more stops. We'll be eh-- there in about three days--

IGUANA: (Blinks) Wh--What did you say? (Looks to ELBERT for help, but quickly looks away. The train begins to tilt as it goes around a bend, everyone leans.)

SUPER: I said seven more uh-- stops we'll be there in uh-- 30 minutes.

IGUANA: (Resumes looking out the window) At least there's something to watch. I love riding the elevated train.

(BLACKOUT)

SCENE III

(IGUANA sit around a table of the gay elite. THE WRITERS of Music Fold know everything and anything about Broadway. They sit around a table that the SUPERVISOR is conducting. THE WRITERS as a whole make up a whole personality, but individually they are hardly memorable. While the SUPERVISOR tries to conduct a meeting, they just go on about their way.)

SUPER: So let's discuss uh-- new possible stories--

WRITER 1: I have the Hal Prince obituary complete. (Laughs) Next we will work on Carol Channing and...

WRITER 2: Stephen Sondheim! (Everyone laughs slightly.) Lets face it both of their careers are done.

SUPER: Uh-- Any ideas for Tony stories? Does anyone eh-- want to go to the Tony's. (IGUANA watches not surprised, as none of them raise their hands.)

WRITER 3: I'll just watch from home and post a moment to moment bulletin. Like I did last year.

SUPER: I was thinking of doing a story about what people mean when they thank certain people in their speeches. Like when Roger Bart thanked um-- Jonathon Larson.

WRITER 2: That's a good idea, we'll have to do after the fact interviews.

SUPER: I was hoping to write the story up for um-- Monday. (All three stop smiling at once.) Oh! (Turns to IGUANA) Do you want to tell them about your tattoo?

(IGUANA's eyes open widely. He has prepared for this, but not so suddenly! He is used to telling people on his own terms. To a group of the elite he is intimidated. Slowly rolls up his sleeve.)

IGUANA: It's Anita Morris...From Nine...

WRITER 1: OOOoohhhhh! (Bursts out laughing.)

WRITER 2: Well, I'll be! That is her. Did you see her performance? (All three giggle.)

IGUANA: No, only through resear--

WRITER 3: Do you have anymore Broadway tattoos?

(IGUANA tries to hold it in his mouth. But as a reflex, he gives the usual speech.)

IGUANA: Yes. I have more. (Beat) I am into Al Hirschfeld. You know the New Yorker? Of course you know! Well I like Al and I like Tennessee Williams. So I have two. Yes, two Al Hirschfeld. (Quick pause) Wait no three! I have three. I have the two Tennessee Williams. Well no, I mean of two characters from his plays. So I have The Eccentricities of a Nightingale on one calf and The Night of the Iguana on another calf. (Aside) Oh God! This was my worst fear! Explaining my Theater Tattoos to Theater people. Oh and lastly I have Judy Garland on my rib cage. (This sudden end comes complete with silence from all parties at the table. Then suddenly followed by laughter.)

WRITER 1: (Clapping hands) Brilliant!

WRITER 2: That's dedication right there!

WRITER 3: Anyone else have any Broadway tattoos?

(IGUANA doesn't know whether to be proud of mortified.)

WRITER 1: I have Cheyenne Jackson on my back.

(IGUANA realizes what to feel.)

(BLACKOUT)

Picture-A-Day #74

Guess who's going swimming tonight at 9:30? While I still have the option, might as well make use of the YMCA's pool.

Picture-A-Day #73

I am trying to be happy. Really trying. This is serverly difficult when I find out I'm being forced out of my apartment. I have a month, ample time. Without warning. So yea, that is that. More on that later.

End of Days

If this ever happens to me. Then I quit life.

The Eccentricities of the Intern

My biggest fear about my internship:
Having to explain my theater tattoos to theatrical people. Odd right? Anita Morris is my partner for life. We've been going together for about two years now and I NEVER regret her. My tattoos are brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I am a fan, so what? Anita Morris was the perfect female archetype and I celebrate that. Anita Morris, Judy Garland, Tennessee Williams are three different people who I find so amazing I don't care what people think.

Yet.

I find it difficult to explain when people don't know me. Especially people who will recognize Anita Morris. Who will ask me, "Did you see her in Nine?" And I can only answer:

Only through research.

Without further adieu. A Rewriting of The Rose Tattoo*...

(IGUANA is in his cubicle printing out every article written by a freelance reporter who doesn't own his own printer. IGUANA sits there smiling at the irony. SUPERVISOR enters the cubicle. He is a man born without humor or a single emotion in his body. He is Asian.)

SUPER: (Softly spoken) Iguana? Hi, are you, uh, busy? I want you to-- (Turns head and is inaudible) --This is the President of Musical Fold!

IGUANA: (Dumbstruck and unprepared for such a surprise on his second day.) OH! Hello! Very nice to meet you! Thank you for choosing me! I'm so happy to be here! I know you won't regret it!

PRESIDENT: Hello. What is that on your arm?

IGUANA: (Timidly) It's...(Goes with it). It's my tattoo. Of Anita Morris. You know, from Nine.

SUPER: Uh...yes...

PRESIDENT: Do I remember? Of course. She was a lady! Her dance was absolutely unforgettable.

SUPER: I...uh...remember that show...with Anto--

IGUANA: (Nervous) Yes! It's just funny--You're the first person to ask--Of course THE PRESIDENT would ask me about my theater tattoos!

PRESIDENT: Well you got it for a reason! To talk about it! (IGUANA stops himself.)

SUPER: Did you uh...see her perform in it?

IGUANA: Of course! (Aside) Well only with archival abilities.

PRESIDENT: What do you do for school? Where do you go?

IGUANA: BKLYN College.

PRESIDENT: Great school!

IGUANA: I'm a theater B.A. Which means I'm not going for acting...

PRESIDENT: (Understated) Good move. What do you want to do?

(IGUANA opens eyes wide. The $500,000 question has been placed on the table and as usual he is without a response.)

IGUANA: Just getting my hands wet and seeing what I'd like to do. (Aside) Which I'm sure I'll realize with all this data entry work. These mundane tasks are sure to clarify things.

SUPER: (Over IGUANA's aside) I--uh--went to school for--

IGUANA: But I'm sure I'll figure it out one of these days.

PRESIDENT: Well, it was nice meeting you. Make connections it's how you thrive here! (Exits before he finishes his sentence.)

(BLACKOUT)

*The following play is a work of fiction. Any events that resemble real life are purely coincidence.

Picture-A-Day #72

Until I reinstall photoshop. This is the best I can do. Plus it's been one of those days. More on that later though.

Scene With My Family: The Unexpected Plan

(IGUANA picks up his phone.)

IGUANA: Hey Mom, what's up?

MOM: I have some bad news.

IGUANA: Huh?

MOM: So it turn out that it's your father's birthday next weekend. Your grandma refuses to come to the city on her son's birthday. So I guess that means we're not coming. How does next week sound?

IGUANA: You've been married for 26 years.

MOM: I still want to come...

Picture-A-Day #71

I was going to write a lot, but this new laptop is too much! It's so different! I can't even begin.

In Memorial

Patti LuPone deserves the Tony. End of story. A friend sent me Rose's Turn sung by La LuPone and I'm determined that Kelli O'Hara can't wash enough men out of her hair to win this award over the Goddess that is LuPone! Sure it's a little insane, but she took Madame Rose to her final breakdown. Whatever, if you hate her. That's your prerogative

Yes Ms. Merman, it's not just singing on the down beat that makes Rose's Turn work.

In real news. I have been reading Paula Vogel. And Baby Makes Seven is a production my theater company will do.

Oh, yes I've forgotten to mention that some friends and I will be creating an all gay theater company! Our tentative title is: The Sausage Factory. We will be gay men creating theater. Women will be allowed, but their title will be as HAGS.

Meaning they can participate, but have no artistic say in the process. We're not doing this as a statement, we're doing is cause we're gay! Okay, so the official statement is in the works, but we're hoping that will be included.

Wow, this entry has gone to a different place than I intended, see what Patti does to me. I've started reading Sarah Kane. This shall be a summer of plays I am sure. Along those lines, William Inge is brilliant. A true friend of Tennessee Williams at best! Come Back Little Sheba was sadly missed near the end of February. If you know the circumstances you'll understand why. Yet, when I read the play I missed it much more, because it was brilliance at best. I need to buy the movie, I need Shirley Booth in my life.

In short, I cherish my friends. Feeling loved is nice. Feeling enjoyed is better. Feeling needed is terrific. There is a moment upon leaving them that the loneliness returns quickly. I take a few deep breathes and go back to it all.

I tried for happiness, but I did return to depression.

Internship starts tomorrow. Oh life did shift, how?

Picture-A-Day #070

I now wear baseball caps. Oh, so many new things happening this year!

A Revision In The Text

Let this weekend of 2008 be known as the best release from college. The friends have been terrific and the foes have been minimal. Creeping slowly through these times, it's nice to finally be learning how to release tension.

I have been to several parties this weekend. It's been celebratory, as if we had all made it through some great despair together. Last night we hung out and we sat and we stayed together. Until 5 AM! This feat is not an easy task to accomplish, especially without artificial stimulants.

We all value the presence of one another. Two years ago I saw these friends and felt left out, I know that I don't feel that anymore. I felt inside as if in their company I feel loved, I feel wanted. Those on the outside can see what they want, I know what I feel.

Tomorrow is another day much like this. I am allowing it and it feels great.

Picture-A-Day #069

This face can't be explained except: I drank a lot. I need to recoup today.

It's all in the Eccentricites

Today I finally saw The Eccentricities of a Nightingale by my boy 10. In one year I have seen both the tattoos on my calf, something I didn't think would happen for sometime.

Seeing the two ladies actually performed out loud has just cemented why I felt so drawn to them. Hannah Jelkes is the self control and Alma Winemiller is my wild card. Those two ladies are me it's remarkable. Did I mold my life after the plays or has my life been molded in the same situations.

It really reflected the way I acted this afternoon when I was having sex. I portrayed Alma to a T. Yes, I still have sex even in my dire state.

Picture-A-Day #068

The way her eyes dart around all over the place. They looked demented.

The World Is Waiting

Today is my final day as a Financial Printer. And if the future is in my favor, I will never be a financial printer ever again. This is monumental in the fact that it has been the longest job I've had consecutively. I have spent two years at this job. On Tuesday, I will be starting my internship. How utterly strange. This is a good sign of things to come, I am sure of it.

Now a scene with my friends:

(ACME Restaurant on the East Side. A group has gathered to celebrate ERIC's birthday party where he has told everyone that Hurricanes are $5. Half of the group of people are drunk, while the other half are sober and wondering how many Hurricanes can one group order.)

IGUANA: (To sober friend) I think I'll just drop my money on the table and run-- (WAITRESS walks up to table)

WAITRESS: Hey, can I ask you a question? Who at the table told you guys that Hurricanes were $5 each?

IGUANA: Oh Jesus! The birthday boy told us all, that's why we came here on a Thursday. How much are they normally?

WAITRESS: Unfortunately that's not true. It's only true at the bar and they're $8.

(IGUANA pauses. Then pauses some more, finally takes another pause. Finally he speaks.)

IGUANA: Well, I suppose we'll take our bill then. I can relay the bad news to the birthday boy and everyone else. So you won't have to incur the wrath.

WAITRESS: Well I talked to my manager and he's gonna give you guys like $30 off the bill. It's better than nothing!

IGUANA: How many Hurricanes did we order?

WAITRESS: 34...

(IGUANA does the math in his head.)

IGUANA: Get the damn check! I suggest getting out of here because a real storm is brewing...

Picture-A-Day #067

The pores in my nose are so large I once found a family of rabbits in there.

It's All In Your Head

I'm an elitist. I write and apparently come off as an asshole. I comment on other people's blogs and they attack back. And for a moment I ask myself: Am I really that awful when I write? Do I come off as that pretentious? That I'm intentionally trying to piss someone off?

Then a friend, yes a friend, which is my first clue that I'm not that bad. I have friends. A friend simply said:

best not to care what others think, be you and the people who get it get it and eff the people who don't because isn't it their loss in the long run?

Brilliant. And like that I don't care anymore. I even did a big thing, that I normally wouldn't do in the past. I didn't read the last comment that this alleged blogger sent me. Therefore in my mind, I got the last word.

I am an Elitist.

In other news I finished a play recently I would like to discuss for a moment:

The Baltimore Waltz by Paula Vogel — A play written in 1992 about a woman who gets ATD (Acquired Toilet Disease) and is extremely deadly. So she travels to Europe in a dreamlike fantasy, seeing the world and fucking her brains out before she dies. A brilliant reactionary piece to the AIDS epidemic from a Lesbian woman's point-of-view (Vogel is a Lesbian, but her lead is straight). The ending is heart wrenching, but I enjoyed it. I would have loved to seen Cherry Jones play the lead, but alas I won't.

Some of my favorite quotes:

ANNA: When you're a much older man, and you've loved many women, you'll be a wonderful lover if you're just a little bit nervous...like you are right now. Because it will always be the first time.

or;

ANNA: In lovemaking, he's all fury and heat. His North Sea pounding against your Dreamer. And when you look up and see his face, red and huffing, it's hard to imagine him ever having been a newborn, tiny, wrinkled and seven pounds.

That is, until afterwards. When he rises from sleep and he walks into the bathroom. And there he exposes his soft little derriere, and you can still see the soft baby flesh.

and;

THE THIRD MAN: Unbeknownst to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, there is a Seventh Stage for the dying. There is a growing urger to fight the sickness of the body with the health of the body. The Seventh Stage: Lust.

Picture-A-Day #066

I need to work on my Joan of Arc hears voices look. (one of my favorite paintings at The Met)

Scenes With My Family: Aunt Visits

A summation of the visit with my Aunt...

(IGUANA sits down in Deli booth with his AUNT. IGUANA digs into his panini ravenously.)

AUNT: How was the AIDS Walk?
IGUANA: It was fantastic! Our group raised about 3,000 dollars total. Which is terrific since there were only like 7 or 8 of us!
AUNT: Tell me, do you think they'll ever find a cure?

(Long pause)

IGUANA: Let me tell you something about America first...

Picture-A-Day #065

I feel so special. My aunt bought me two new pairs of shoes. A new spring jacket. 5,000 pairs of socks and a nice special edition Whitney Centennial T-Shirt from Gap. As well as a terrific expensive dinner. They're not special shoes, but they don't have holes in them like my old ones.

Sip Some Bubbly...

I finished my final incredibly quick. Like almost to quickly. I knew what I knew and I guessed on what I didn't know. I think I got a B. I've never been good with finals. It's my lack of ambition that gets me down.

We all know the fable of the little boy held back in school. Since his parents never told him it was cause he was socially retarded he grew up lying about his age, thinking he was stupid and never bothered to work on the social disorders. Well I am that boy and we ALL know how that turned out.

Since returning from China my ambition level has lowered more than I expected. I hate those transformations you go through in life. I-left-China-a-boy-and returned-a-Communist kind of change.

What's thrilling for tonight is that I will be able to stay up and play FFXII, until I beat that Elder Wyrm.Yes, that's me rediscovering my inner geek and then spraying it all over your face. Like cats do when they're in heat.

I'm feeling odd, as if the whole world is against me. I know it's just my paranoid mind. People attack or contend so easily. I want to disappear from humanity for a moment and resurface later. I think I'll save these moments and write something with more substance.

Picture-A-Day #064

Let's get through this final an then begin summer, shall we?

Another Lap Around the Track

Today marks the last day of my finals. Onward to lap five! Starting this game 4 years ago, the curves were not easily predictable in the least. I'm holding up and intend on finishing this marathon someday.

That concludes the metaphor portion of our entry this morning.

I will allow myself a moment to brag as it were. Life is changing drastically in the coming days and nights. I leave my job of two years at the end of this week probably forever. A job that has been both the bane and savior of my existence. It helped destroy all the illusions I built up of my time in college being part of the real world. Which explains my lack of sympathy for people who complain about petty college issues. Granted, I will admit I complain about college issues.

My soul never seems to stir when someone is in so much stress over all the projects they have due. Oh and their job they have through the school, you know the one thats from 10-6, two days a week, is just not allowing them the time they need to complete their projects!

Oh, is that harsh? Well I have a surprise for you. Welcome to the real world.

I start my internship for the summer. I am excited for a change and a resume builder. If it's fruitful then terrific! If it's pointless I will appreciate it for escaping the mundane summer repeat I had last year.

My friends and I are throwing about the idea of creating an all gay theater company. Which they've labeled The Sausage Factory. I'm all for it, but everyone keeps asking me what my role will be in it. Which causes me to laugh hysterically in my head. They all seem to have secured their own position as director or actor or set designer. But what will YOU do. Run the box office? Despite the fact that the theater company was my suggestion in the first place (but as a post-college plan since right now it's impossible), next thing I know the choices were made immediately. What play we were doing, who was doing what. But then they look at me and ask, "What will you do?"

It's exciting I do admit, but when you ask me what I am going to do in the company. I feel odd because its like I'm tagging along on my own idea that was purloined from my head. I think I'll just watch this one develop and hope I see an opening, I'll jump in. As of right now I don't see that.

I think my friends forget I'm behind them by at least 5-7 years of experience.

My aunt has surprised me with a visit tomorrow. She's the good aunt and it will be fun to spend the day with her. We want to go to a museum and get a nice dinner. In such hard times as these it's hard to feel truly excited, except for the smaller things like seeing family.

Oh and in less than two months I'll be 23. How did that happen? The ODD numbered years are always less disappointing than the EVEN. At the time though it'll always be the reverse.

AIDS Walk – 2008

(Tis true, I do smile sometimes!)

I awoke at 6 AM, as if I were waking on Christmas morning. It was odd, also it was a glorious sunny day. I went to bed early and woke up earlier than I thought I would. I got ready and got a Bacon, Egg and Cheese on a bagel. It was delicious. There was a moment when walking to the subway that I started to feel tension.

This wasn't a walk just for a good cause anymore, like it was two years ago. The walk for me officially began February 21st. How utterly dramatic. Anyway, I swallowed that nervousness and got on the train. It was a celebration of how far we've come. That back in 1984, thousands had died and no one was even paying attention. To walk is to experience that energy.

Walks and social events are so liberating. How someone can go to something like this, purely for the energy of the people there, and then leave knowing that there are people who still care. It was terrific to see friends that I have made come together. To know that I have made new and older friends that I feel happy with. That I am gaining memories and moments.

I feel that I can possibly be cared for. It makes me happy. If only I could have these moments all the time. Walking in on a Sunday, with people who make me feel comfortable, through a sunny park, down old streets, people together, pit stops of free snacks all. Laughter so you never have to frown again.

(Showing off the tote bag. We are Team 'Mo. I don't always stand with bend in my leg.)

Then there is the downside. I'm a nervous twit. I am the self conscious one in life. I say things without filtering sometimes. I talk not to be heard, but just to put words in the open. I have gone through trying times and simply have lost my way in the world of sense. This is not a bad thing. People seem to endure it.

And for the first time ever, for the four of you. I have captured a moment of this on video. So you can see me in one of these non-logical moments:

Picture-A-Day #063

It's weird to have someone close to you now. Who you actually share a history with. But she's here and I appreciate her to no end. More about this whole thing later.

Fluidity....

Quick question that would greatly appreciate an answer —

When someone says:

You're playwriting is much more fluid than your short stories. aka food for thought.

What does that mean? Does that mean I suck?

In other news. Endgame today was terrific! Who knew Vinnie from Doogie Houser understood Beckett SO well? In my opinion it's not the end all of Beckett's plays in my opinion. I adore Happy Days more, but this was terrific to see. Plus seeing Elaine Strich in a Garbage Can was terrific! She played the hell out of those five lines!

Walking home I realized how many people exist and how it's very difficult to believe that you are truly an individual when so many people are involved with their own lives and they feel the same thing.

whew, breath!

Why am I not working harder on Finals? Why not?

Please answer my question above...thank you.

Picture-A-Day #062

Tomorrow is the AIDS Walk! I raised 600 as I planned. It's not the people who didn't donate, it's the people who said they WOULD donate and fell through as flakes. Is your life really that self involved that you couldn't take a moment and follow through with a promise? Yes, we're highly disappointed.

But thank you to those who did. All one of you.

Jewish Fairy Godmother

I believe I have a Jewish Fairy Godmother at Brooklyn College. Well let me explain:

It's a Cinderella story, really.

In a desperate attempt to get into a science class this semester I wrote a letter to the powers that be. I found the email addresses of two Bio department heads (Stepsisters), begging to have an override into the Core Bio class. So I could still believe that I would be graduating next spring. I may be dirty, but I'd like to go to the ball too.

I sent the email out and immediately received an auto-email from one stepsister who wasn't in her office. Telling me, "Come back this fall and perhaps I'll fit you in." That was of no help, I quickly figured how the next email would be received.

So I went about my day. Going out and doing chores and spending my stimulus package on plays. Paula Vogel, William Inge, Sarah Kane and Tracy Letts. I'm gonna have lots to discuss pretty soon one I begin reading.

Later in the day I got a strange email. Not from the other stepsister, but from someone else. Someone I'd never emailed before and she bore the last name: Steinberg. My fairy Godmother, Luna Steinberg (as I have started calling her) was a Godsend! She didn't explain why she was involved, but just wrote:

Hi: I see from your transcript, that you are a lower senior and I can give you an overtally in one of the fall cores; anything but 0458, 0459, 1914, and 1915. please check your schedule and let me know which code #.

Who are you magic lady? Where did you appear from? How did you get into my file without my SS#? How did you know what I wanted? Being the skeptic I am I humorously replied with the class I'd like to take. Figuring there was no hurt in trying.

Later that night the other Stepsister wrote to me telling me, "Take summer classes, if not take it next spring!" I went to bed, knowing that I would never graduate until 2010. Making that six years of straight undergraduate living.

Then this morning I awoke to a gift from my Godmother:

Hi; your permission is now in for 0456, and you can now registerJ

Do you believe in magic? I do. She signed her name as a smiley face! And like that, I am taking Biology next semester!

Thank you Fairy Godmother. I hope this isn't the only time you'll be helping me.

Picture-A-Day #061

(This is what my lazy eye wants to look like. Can't even do that right)

Step one: Try not to take yourself seriously anymore.

Picture-A-Day #060

My iPhone is being the devil. I may have to bring it in to get checked out. Hopefully this isn't a continual thing.

Tony Nominations

The Tony Nominations came out yesterday and here's my view on it all:

So the top four this year are: Cry Baby, In The Heights, Xanadu and Passing Strange. I've seen three of the four and I know that as justified as it would be that Xanadu would win. A year ago to this day people were laughing at how it would close before it opened. Tsk, tsk on you Broadway.

My pick for Best Musical will be:

In The Heights

Then there is Best Play. I don't even need to begin to say August: Osage County will win for sure. It's between Amy Morton and Deanna Dunagan for best Lead Actress.

My vote goes to:

Deanna Dunagan

Best Musical Revival is a tough one this year. Commercially it will go to either South Pacific or Grease. But if the Tony Committee were made up of one person, and that person was I. It would go to the stunning:

Sunday in the Park With George

As for best actor. I have seen several of them and if we were voting by cuteness. Daniel Evans will win. But since that's not the primary judging criteria. They will vote on talent and another sexy man will win: Paulo Szot

I will end these predictions with the final and hottest category. Best Actress in a Musical. This year is difficult. You have the legendary, against the ingenue, against the dark horse, against the boring, against the British. Of course I know who I want to win:

Patti LuPone.

Or as she's now known:

Madame Rose

An Apology

I've been an incredibly moody person lately. My tongue and fingers have basically been poisonous razors. I cut to the quick when I'm upset because I don't know what else to do. Being happy in the face of adversity isn't easy.

Having stress from every angle is difficult. I am apologizing and stating that from this moment on I will try to "be better" in my moods and anger. I can't promise anything, but I can say that it's a start.

Picture-A-Day #059

I think I'm a monster. Something is wrong with me. I am so worn and tired.

Carol Channing Asks You...

This is my last moment for begging. I've raised $550 for the AIDS Walk and I have only 50 more dollars until I reach my goal. I thank everyone who has donated already. But now Carol is asking you politely to donate. Just click on Carol Channing's pleading hand and you can give her money.

Plus she's just been robbed so she needs to make up the missing cash:



Or you can CLICK HERE and know that I'll love you forever if you donate!

Let's leave it at this. I know that one of my four (yes I have four now) readers has openly donated. While other ones of you have flaked out. I don't ask for much. It hurts my ego to know that only one of you really actively reads. This is an interactive blog.

But seriously, please just donate. It's nice to know you're doing something good for the world and not just living in your own self involved bubble. Which we are all guilty of doing. Thank you.

Bah bah bah. Whine whine whine. Cry cry cry.

Let's try being happy for once. It's gonna be tough, but I'll try. Wah wah wah. Moan moan moan.

Picture-A-Day #058

Judy Garland Keeps Me Alive

This is no longer about him. He is dead, there will never been a mention of him again as long as I can help it. Well after this post that is. He's no longer worth worry or my time in general.

I punched myself in the heart until I was bruised. I needed physical pain to counteract the emotional. I completely destroyed the Red Umbrella until there was nothing left. And I wrote a nasty email reply to him, but deleted it realizing you aren't going to let him hit you while you're down again.

I then put on Judy Garland and listened to her until she helped me realize that it's okay to feel hatred towards someone who once made you feel so good.

People aren't perfect, he isn't perfect. And though he pretends that he wants to be there for you, you don't need to take that. You have everything under control. I hate him. Perhaps someday I won't hate him, but he has to do more than what he is doing now to change anything.

And in my hate for him I am showing that I am not perfect. Yet, I am content in that.


So this final post is to you ADRIAN...

I'd like to believe that this is my theme song and I would perform this the same way Judy does...

It Happens So Quickly...

I'll keep this short. As I am getting sick of it all. The Tall Man is in a relationship. That is the one little item that he didn't let slip out when he was giving me the boot.

And thus whatever it is that I was holding onto as far as hope and figuring things out. It's dead. I will rant, I will whine, I will stare into space as I do this. I will gracefully go wherever I am suppose to go when things like this happen.

How ironic that upon finding out these news items. No one who is there to support me can be found. So I find a reasonable person to hookup with and I unload it on them. For a moment I apologized for it, but I was just going where I am being led.

God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It's up to you to do the stitching.

I am not well mentally. I'm a good lay apparently. Always have been.

In My Life – Flop of the Millenium

In 2005, when I was going to Pratt Institute and on the cusp of giving myself to Musical Theater completely. I read a Broadway.com review (back when they wrote reviews and not just interviewed nobody's opinions of shows) about a show called In My Life. It was a huge mess, the review told me. I need to see this! Then before I knew it, the show had closed.

Now folks I have seen my fair share of flops, but this one takes the cake. Written , music and directed by Joseph Brooks. The show is about a boy with turrets who falls in love with a girl. When he is emotional he swears in rhymes. Dick, sick, flick, hick! But when he's happy he says lemon! Meanwhile an Angel is playing with these two people's lives. For his REALITY OPERA.

(This is the boy with turrets. He is so adorable in this show)

Yes, I'm not making this up. As well as this story arch. There is the fact that the boy is dying of a tumor (to make the opera more dramatic) and his dead sister is in Heaven watching this all happen (the little girl can't act, but has a voice on her like nothing I've ever heard before on American Idol). When the dead sister isn't watching her brother rhyme swears. She is dully conversing with God. In some of the boriest book scenes I have ever seen. God is a fat man named Al who wears a backwards baseball cap all the time.

Yet the show is one of the most fucked up musicals I have ever seen. The story is utterly confusing, but horribly simple. Mr. Brooks tries to stuff emotions in your face and expects you to cry. But before you can get a tear out the silly gay Angel appears and makes the scene ascend it's ridiculousness!

I love the show though. It's such a guilty treasure to watch I feel like I'm going to die knowing something that people will never experience. The show is a total sensory fuck! It is like taking a journey into a mad egotists mind.

What to see though is the Ultimo Finale! When the turret afflicted boy dies. The characters assemble in a singing battle. His dead mother who sings opera like it's know ones business, she's my favorite. There's a scene when he's remembering his mother singing opera and a set of a kitchen lowers down and she's doing dishes singing phenomenally. That was one hot scene!

So everyone in the finale gets their chance to belt it out. The turrets boy goes to heaven...

Then when you least expect it, God decides they shouldn't die. But it's not just any wedding. Gay angle floats down with a giant lemon and all the characters assemble to wed the two kids.

Oh but did I mention this is right after the man who hit turret boy's dead sister tells her she killed her. Because well he's dead too and in heaven. Oh did I mention that character existed? No? Well I didn't even realize it until that scene.

This is the stuff my dreams are made of. I swear!

Picture-A-Day #057

See I'm smiling... Last Five Years reference.

Whenever I dream...

I wish I had fallen asleep at say, 1 am. Or even 2 am. Yet I had more thoughts filling my mind, that I couldn't push out. The Tall Man and The Gentleman Caller both just came in and took rule of my thoughts.

So in short I'm feeling pretty low today. The Tall Man wrote back. He's on his business trip now. Meaning he was probably lying to me about going then. Who knows. He apologized more and I cried more. It's SO easy to be the one who cares. Any pain you caused me...seriously? Okay, I'm not going to play victim right now, but don't, just don't.

I may go see this because I'm having troubles focusing on life...

Take Care of my Mind

In between shows. In between shows. Why this morning did I wake up and email the Tall Man?

It was a simple email. Just asking him if he was back in Brooklyn. He's been on a work trip...why the FUCK am I explaining his life? It wasn't the best moment of my life, as I wrote the letter my pulse increased and I started to shake.

M-A-R-T-Y-R

I'm not letting him give me a phone call before he flies off around the world and get away scotch clean. Sure I can't look him in the face yet, but it's taking a step in the right direction I am sure. Be it hours of screaming and crying when I see him. Or hours of conventional discussion. It needs to happen. Why are you doing this? You care about him and want to make sure he's okay from his trip!

Fuck convention. You'll scream when the time comes. You told him that stuff happened when you hung up that phone. That's all you needed to tell him, that's all he needs to know for now. You won't mention the breakdown yet, or the crying, or the pain. The breaking of his umbrella, well you'll mention that. In time.

He wants to be your friend, then he gets the whole package deal. I want to scream so much sometimes, until I pass out. Don't tell me to DO it. Who screams until they pass out? I'm a broken soul and life hasn't made sense in months. I feel more unsure and comfortable than I have ever known before.

I just finished reading The Normal Heart by Larry Kramer. Powerful play with some really upsetting moments. What it must feel like being the only person screaming in a silent room? I want to scream. Don't tell me to do it! Why do I hate the idea of being touched anymore? Why couldn't I breath normally this morning?

My friend said The Normal Heart is now a history piece. What's historical about gay men fucking blindly and getting HIV? What's historical about not writing about AIDS in the news anymore? What's HISTORICAL about the fact that we're pretending these issues have been fully resolved? What's historical about the fact that I am where I am right now and living with this?

Oh my head feels light. And I'm trying to be deep...tsk, tsk. Has is only been three months? Fuck.

Oh, and I hate happy people.

Picture-A-Day #56

Cig break during show. It's sunny out.

Picture-A-Day #055

The Story of the Red Umbrella

The last few days have been upsetting to my emotional state. I am doing what I do best, which is holding up those barriers that get shakier every month. I mean come on people! Each month has posed a new little stress on this wall. And while the barrier can withstand one or two, it can't take a barrage of them! I know it's all relative and it's all on varying degrees. You have the long-term issues. Then you have the short term issues. The story of the Red Umbrella is a mixture of the two.

The red umbrella is the only physical item I have of The Tall Man's. And it's sat in my room for several months since he first let me borrow is on a rainy day. After the beginning of the end I tried to ignore using it. It's strange how physical objects that really are just that, physical. Can be charged with emotional sentiment. I walked in the rain most days after this all happened, I didn't want to give my body reason to gasp and tear up. A little fall of rain won't hurt me now.

Then came the day when it rained so hard that I had no choice but to use it. I'd open it and as if I'd opened a box of mementos I'd become prone to thoughts I don't wish to happen. Yet, in the rain I admired it's way of keeping me completely dry. Talk about metaphors.

So onto the short-term issues. Some people call college the most informative years of your life. I disagree. College has caused me angst, financial nervousness, insomnia and stress. And now it's adding onto that with registration for next year. I don't want to go into issues, but the officials are being rather difficult. In ways they shouldn't necessarily be.

Since I have my past stories of trouble with college authority, I have these moments where I'm like, "Fuck it, I'm done!" I call my mother and scream to her. Not at her, that's very important to take note of. I merely say it to hear it so I can let it mill about in my mind. Then I can remember that it's pointless to stop now because I'll have the rest of my LONG LIFE to not be in college.

I am keeping myself pretty put together these days, but I have moments. Of pure mental release (a break if you will) and I had one yesterday. So after the frustration of registering and that distant thought of going to college for 6 years. I was walking home muttering swears and phrases of anger to no one in particular. I was giving life as it really is free to anyone's ears. I was carrying the red umbrella on a muggy overcast day. Oh and it felt heavy in my hands at that moment, so heavy indeed.

What is this? The third month of these upsetting news items. One after the next. That's all I could think in my head. In this exact moment all three of these issues in my life were together. The tainted liquid in my veins, the registration book in my bag and the umbrella I was holding...

And without warning I just started shouting and slamming the umbrella against a streetlight.

Slamming. Swinging. Shouting. Screaming.

If there was an ending to this story, I'd write it. There is not.

Words beyond words

This says better than I could ever say....

"When I confess, my disclosure is offered up to someone who is assumed to be morally superior. When I bear witness, there is a balance of power and vulnerability between us, and that which is personal is also plural.” If bearing witness is to show by one’s existence that something is true, is the New York Patient confessing or bearing witness to the Manhattan high school students, to me in my role as journalist, and to readers of this essay? When it comes to sexual risk and HIV, do we recognize any narrative besides a confession? What choice have we given the New York Patient other than offering an explanation for what we have already framed as his failure? Confession or bearing witness?

Picture-A-Day #054

This face equals the summation of my day. I will write about it later. It involves registering for classes, graduating, yelling and a red umbrella. Also, I'm writing a Gay Greek tragedy. Which ones weren't that way...I ask you?

Not That I Take Pleasure From It...

I called it...

GLORY DAYS CLOSED AT BROADWAY’S CIRCLE IN THE SQUARE THEATRE

http://www.GloryDaysBroadway.com

GLORY DAYS, a new musical by Nick Blaemire (Music and Lyrics) and James Gardiner (Book) played its final performance at Broadway’s Circle in the Square Theatre (235 West 50th Street, NYC) on Tuesday, May 6 (Opening Night).

GLORY DAYS began performances on Tuesday, April 22 and officially played 17 previews and one regular performance.

Producers John O’Boyle and Ricky Stevens said, “We adore GLORY DAYS and everyone connected with this production. Sadly, given the over-night reviews and our low advance sales, we believe it is prudent to close the show on Broadway immediately.”

The production starred Steven Booth (Will), Andrew C. Call (Andy), Adam Halpin (Skip), and Jesse JP Johnson (Jack). Led by director Eric Schaeffer, the creative team also included James Kronzer (scenic design), Sasha Ludwig-Siegel (costume design), Mark Lanks (lighting design) and Peter Hylenski (sound design). Vocal arrangements are by Nick Blaemire and Jesse Vargas. Music supervision, arrangements and orchestrations are by Jesse Vargas.

GLORY DAYS was produced by John O’Boyle, Ricky Stevens, Richard E. Leopold and Lizzie Leopold, Max Productions, Alan Mingo, Jr. and Broadway Across America in association with Signature Theatre.

Pretty impressive that it only lasted ONE DAY. That's some old time Broadway shit going on there. The reviews were awful, but people took great care to preserve the writer's feelings because they were 23 and 24 or something. Which I thought was sweet, though stupid.

Then my friend pointed out. Stephen Sondheim was 26 when he wrote Gypsy and West Side Story. Also, Martin McDonagh was 25 when he wrote his plays. So obviously if they can play in the big leagues they should be able to take the brunt that comes with it. From what I heard of the music, I either hope they improve or I never hear another score from them again. Or I date one of the guys, I think they're geeky cute.

Picture-A-Day #053

I know at one time I was meant to be a computer graphics major. Little things like color correction and cropping and photo editing makes me happy in my pants. Oh and I'm not shaving my face. That's what that stuff is on my face.

I ordered the chicken...

A Catered Affair. It lacked a lot. It lacked a good book. It looked memorable music. It lacked, really anything. I wanted to like it. I really did. I love Faith Prince and she played a cold hearted mother who had a couple good numbers. But when you have a character walking around saying, "I never loved you enough...I hate your father...I don't like to think about my life." How can you possibly feel moved by her?

There were two really awkward moments in the show. First, when Faith had a nervous breakdown. She was brilliant (as someone who knows what it's like to go through that), but it was so weird and seemed forced. But she went from zero to sixty in no time flat! Sitting there, just having had her daughter tell her a big wedding will ruin her life. And Faith looks at the flag that was delivered after her son's funeral and just LOSES it.

Then there was the songs that liked to end on a downbeat and not rhyme. Then Faith just stands there for a good solid minute or two. Apparently, she stood on the fire escape for the entire night and into the morning. Oh yes and those scenes in the kitchen and on the fire escape...Oh goodness. I love seeing flops. Just love it. These was one of those shows.

I also got a new little order of Broadway DVDs. This time it was a majority of them being plays. I got The Normal Heart, Souvenir, A Streetcar Named Desire, Patti LuPone at Les Mouche, In My Life, Angels in America – The Opera. I am starting off with Souvenir.

If I knew what the show was about when it was on Broadway. I would've been there in a moment. Florence Foster Jenkins was a Tone deaf Socialite who became famous. Then in her Carnegie Hall performance she realized people were laughing at her. I think it's an amazing story that is so cool to watch unravel (though it's fiction). Also it's taped from 2005 and on HD Video and has excellent sound. Judy Kaye played Florence and really was truly amazing, especially since she won the Tony for Carlotta in Phantom in 1988. Hurrah Ms. Kaye, hurrah!

Picture-A-Day #052

This picture sums up how my day went. If you can't figure it out, here's a hint...

As usual, look at the eyes.

Springtime for Hitler

Why is everyone allowed a springtime-soon-to-be-summer-crush, except me?

Is it because I'm crazy? Or because I'm gifted? Cursed?

Or because...

I'd most likely be an emotional wreck for anyone who steps within three feet of me. And I'd go nuts if they showed the smallest bit of attention.

Yes, I do believe that is it.