Summer Photos, Had Me a Blast

Some random pictures I took with my iPhone this summer:

Subway Ad defaced

Sweet Bird of Youth by Hirschfeld

Original Playbill of Judy Garland's Two-A-Day at the Palace. I would've stolen it if it weren't enclosed in glass.

My insane grandparents who live in that wonderland I discuss at an earlier date.

A clear depiction of where I grew up. Anyone from my area will recognize all these sites immediately.

The squishy toilet seat I bought when I moved into the apartment.

wtf?

wtf? x2

Anita Morris being flexible.

Yes, she had short hair. I know.

"I can't believe I'm this good looking."

All she ever needed was the music and the hairspray. Really, Donna really?

The keeper of death, bringing George Abbott to his final resting place. Actually it's Carol Channing helping George Abbott read the 1994 draft of Damn Yankees.

I'd assume this is from the Mame era.

I Love the Way the Cougars Look in This

Once again, I love this comic.

Things To Be Happy About

Things I am happy for:

• Watching Golden Girls with my roommate who has never seen the series before.
• Getting a package from a friend through blogging. One of my four readers. Beckett on film and Joan Didion. What more could a boy want?
• Re-watching Cowboy Bebop and remembering happiness and times when you didn't lie awake at night. I'm working with the insomnia.
• Seeing Burlesque Shows in Coney Island and knowing that not only are you seeing a forgotten art form and a celebration of the unorthodox body, you are in a place that holds a little bit of Americana, soon to be torn down.
• Knowing you have a voice over in a small independent film and that voice over is: "Cum in my ass." This is my legacy.
  

This quote: In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral verve; they display what was once called character, a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues.

And this quote: They are willing to invest something of themselves; they may not play at all, but when they do play, they know the odds.

Oh, and this one too: As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag.

In short, I am really thankful for Joan Didion. It's amazing how we've lived such separate lives in different times, but I read her books and feel like she's writing letters to me. This is how to dealt with this when it happened to me. Here is how you can deal with it. Don't worry, I know because I've been there.

I know that it's preemptive to say that life is on an good level. It's very early, since we are just beginning another phase of life. Moving onto adulthood and figuring it out. I know it's all for the best, I've yet to really feel regret.

What's nice is in writing this all out, I've completely forgotten what I was going to write that made me angry.

Burlesque in Coney Island

Last night around 9 at night I went all the way out to Coney Island. It's wonderful to live in Brooklyn. To see such diversity everywhere. The homeless people riding with me on the subway were so different. A trio of insanity: one slept, one screamed and one remained calm.

I arrived to Coney Island and attended:



Amazing. The World Famous *Bob*, she's a a genius and so wonderful to listen to (that is her legal name):
Then there was my close friend, Violet Temper:

A highlight of my night was watching Iggy and Glenn Marla perform their numbers. Iggy sang two songs. Pirate Jenny and a French number that translates to I Don't Love You. I couldn't find a picture of Iggy. Glenn Marla performed this amazing sequence to I'm the Greatest Star from Funny Girl.


As Bob said last night. This is the reason you people move to NYC, to see crazy shit. Thanks for the reminder Bob.

The Spinster's Life...

Sitting at home and being thrifty is an amazing way to re-watch old series you loved. Also, to remember what a complete nerd you we(a)re...

Two Things: Second

Since I can't have a dog. I have been given an automaton named Sparklz. Actually he's a wind-up toy, but I love him still. I like to wind him up and then dance around him. Or tell him not to follow me to school. He always get so sad.

Two Things: First

I'm going to share two things that have come into my life since moving to Sunset Park, Brooklyn. First is my apartment:

View from my window. Most would hate it, I love the constant dark feeling. Like it's always Sunset or evening.

My family tree. Raul Julia & Zoe Cadwell are my grandparents. Polly Bergen's my mother. Anita Morris is my aunt. And the Lunts are my great grandparents.

Bedroom 1

Bedroom 2

Bed

Closet

Bathroom

Good view from living room.

Kitchen

Living room. That's the trunk Judy Garland was born in.

The End of Summer

The summer has ended again, which has come and gone without my really knowing it. It's been different and entertaining. To realizing who I am. Standing in so much darkness. How long and short it's all been.

There was a moment in fire island. Followed by several BBQs with beloved friends. Hold onto those moments. Then there were the darker nights, that aren't necessarily memorable. The constant cold that's followed you through it. The false meetings and quick goodbyes. I'll remember the happier times.

You'll continue on another year. College. The place people never want to leave. I'll be melodramatic, but I want to get out so badly. This year will be about me. About who I am. How can I be happy. How can I become more than I expect.

Ribbons down my back.

Really, Judy?

I wonder if anyone questioned black face performances? If Judy was a product of the studio, I wonder if she ever felt wrong doing this? It was the 1930s, so there was some racial sympathy by this time. It also amazes me how many people don't know this about her. I always wondered why Swanee is perhaps more celebrated than Over the Rainbow, I think it's because she got her start in Minstrel long before she ever went over the rainbow.

With School Returning...

So does the Insomnia. Buckle your seats belts, it's gonna be a bumpy night.

Garfield Minus Garfield

Stolen from Garfield Minus Garfield:

Diva's Playlist

A Tale of Two Cities sounds like one of those shows that's 20 years to late. I've heard mixed things about the show, but tonight I'll know.

In other news I ran around the campus getting things in order. I had two surreal moments during this running around. First was on campus when I remembered how after 1:30 in the afternoon I won't have to quickly leave class to get on a train to get to work. Or how I'll have time to spend on work. Well, more time than what I've been used to.

Then I walked from my old subway stop to the gym. This means I took a stroll through Park Slope. This was the first real stroll since I've moved a month ago. I was presented with the question of: You lived here for a year? Just the same as when I asked myself if I really lived in Chelsea. I lived in Park Slope for over a year, just a month more, but still over a year.

Remember when a year actually meant something? Maybe I just stopped caring about years. When did I stop caring? It was before I moved to the city. There are those people who hold onto the high school years. Those memories they associate with everyone. They can't accept how the memories have developed into actual people.

People will recall these obscure memories of things I did or said. All I can often conjure up is a vague recollection and then I decide: Just laugh and agree, it must have happened. I still wonder where exactly I was when these memories happened. I wasn't stoned or drugged up. I was sober and aware of everything at that time.

Maybe I was aware of to much, even then , I had to sacrifice pleasure in exchange knowledge? The issues of my childhood/middle school/high school life could be a book of their own. For now I won't go into it.

Avoidance, avoidance...Time to see the play.

The Minstrel Show That Is My Life

I could write about my life, or I could show you Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland in blackface in Babes in Arms. I'm going to do the latter because it reflects the former. The United States was fucked up in the 30s and 40s.

Licking my Wounds — The Garland Remedy

Yesterday I was lazy. Ridiculously lazy. Summer is coming to a quick end as usual and I am entering a new seasons with pensive thoughts and newfound bitterness. I won't allow that though and I saw Hamlet 2. Which made me laugh much more than I expected. It was like the scripts Waiting for Guffman, High School Musical, Passion of the Christ and Hamlet all got mixed together. It was very cute and funny.

Then I talked a friend into buying me the Judy & Mickey DVD box set. Somehow I managed to talk her into it and so it's mine! I sat at home last night and watched Babes in Arms. Judy is a flower as a young woman. She gets all the performance numbers and even does black face at one point. There's something very interesting in seeing a young Judy perform numbers that she would later reshape and make her own.

The box set is totally totally worth the 50 bucks. It comes with poster sized photos of Mickey and Judy in production. As well as a bonus DVD with 21 of Judy's best moments at MGM (before they fired her). It's really sweet to see Judy in her young twenties singing songs like, "Zing, Went the Strings of My Heart" and then to realize the way that song was hers for the rest of her life. Just as easy as that. She sings it once and thus she will now sing that song repeatedly and make it her own.

Poor Judy. I love you.

Is It A Crime?

As a friend said, it's a sucky week to be in my bed. Poi decided that I'm it's jut not worth it. That's fine, I'm not surprised by that.

Then there was my long term lover from L.A. who I met several months ago and happens to be spending the month in the city. First off, he tells me last week how he misses me and can't wait to see me (he was visiting his family that weekend) and so I think:

Okay, he's going back to L.A. soon, why not just enjoy it and kiss and touch? I don't want to marry him. I don't want to end this month with him telling me he loves me. I'll just do what I do and let it runs it's course.

I just want an uncomplicated little love affair? Is that a crime? I ask you.

How annoying people can be. He mentions last night during our second outing this week how tomorrow he's basically going to an orgy. He may not partake in it, but assuredly he's going to an event similar to that. Whatever, read the above.

I think it's very indiscreet and rude to feel nowadays that you can just openly mention to someone you're having sex with how you're going to an orgy right after they finish kissing you. What matters to me right now is I wish to get my rocks off. So I ask him if he wants to come back to my place and spend the night. His excuse: My shoes are just so damned uncomfortable. Add that onto it's a Friday night and he wants to go out.

Fine. And scene and the interlude has just ended a week or so early. In short, fuck you.

I feel with the quitting of Manhunt and the events that have happened in the past, mixed with the events that have happened this week. That I am willfully entering a phase of my life where I shall be solitary and not care about others in a sexual way.

I think about this for a moment every time it enters my mind. I think about how I'm 23 and consciously doing this is like jumping the gun. What gun though? I think about how obviously frustrated I get with dealing with others sexually that at times I feel it's stinting my personal development. Is there anything more to develop? I think about how I've had enough sex for two lifetimes and even a year of nothing wouldn't necessarily ruin anything. I think about how without sexual encounters in my life, I will be so boring.

I actually discussed the events of last night with L.A. and was as honest as I could be. I always pay attention to my passive behavior. Unfortunately, it's the way I deal with stress and if anyone has the sense to tell me that I need to fix that. Here's a big fuck off ahead of time. After all these events I feel as if fighting for a relationship that doesn't even exist is pointless.

He has it set in his mind that we're friends with benefits and he's going back to L.A. Despite this whole speech he once gave me about moving in with me when he moves here next year. The only way to get through a world of absurdity is by being passive, I tell you.

The long-short of it goes: I am abstaining from sex for a little while. I am tired and annoyed of dealing with people that way. I'll be open with the fact that I probably will break this rule because I'm a person and we all get urges. The thing is I'm neither dumpy nor uncomfortable to look at. So men will ultimately want to kiss me. I have a weak Constitution. Until those days come, I'm not actively seeking it out. It wears on my soul and I just don't care anymore.

We've lost all sense of ourselves. I'm a romantic who is actually cutting out the sex all the time. The world isn't slowing down for me, that I am fully aware. This city of gay men is so funny at times. We're fully content with the niches we have found that the thought of changing them terrifies us.

You announce that the owners of Manhunt are Republicans who have donated 2,300 to McCain's campaign. Or that it's destroying gay culture. Gay men will chuckle and continue to use the site because: It works better than anything before. This sort of behavior sounds so familiar. Hm.

Let's Look At It All

I woke up this morning from a nightmare. The answers probably lie in the meaning of the dream. Let's look shall we:

My wardrobe supervisor and I are in a dungeon in the cellar of the school. We are folding laundry and she brings up how someone was talking about how much I have changed. She then gives weird examples, one including when I "drank wine coolers backstage while dressing a show." I immediately felt guilty (re: Trip Home) because I know this, I just didn't know it was every one's number one concern.

That was the gist of it and I have been down since. I ran at the gym, hoping I would get an Endorphin high. Not being able to have a cigarette until September 1st, I feel just like a junkie going through withdrawal. I haven't tried clawing out my roommates eye's out because she won't give me a 10-spot to buy my next pack, but I'll keep it in the back of my mind.

Then, school...college...classes. What do we call them nowadays? Anyhow, that starts soon. This one is the final lap before the checkered flag of life. What's that tense feeling in my chest? It's been a week since I've been to work and the beginning of several months of this trend.

My brain seems to finally be waking up and I'm getting that chance to think about myself. What I've been doing for the last couple of years and the choices I have made. It all really feels odd and embarrassing at times. It's a very uniquely grotesque feeling. I'll evolve from this all I am sure. A better person for it? That I'm not sure.

Did the Line Thing

Seeing Hair in Central Park for the second time. I love Hair more than I can possibly say and the line was wild. It didn't help that everyone had to go wait in Central Park. It's such a solitary experience to go there and wait in line alone. Cold, music blaring in your ears. The comradely you create if you're nice to the people around you.

There's the chance you get someone annoying, which I was luckily one group behind. So I watched it happen, but remained safe from this older man's awkwardness.

The tickets were got and I am sure I will love this more realized production starring Christopher J. Hanke. So nice to my eyes, his face is.

The Legacy of Poi

Came and went. It was mutual, so no hurt feelings. Except since I'm all about controlling my legacy on Poi. I plan to have only these two emails recording his existence in my life:

-----Original Message-----
From: E. Iguana
Sent: Aug 20, 2008 2:02 PM
To: O. Kitten
Subject: OH dear lord!

http://www.playbill.com/news/article/120568.html

On Wed, Aug 20, 2008 at 2:04 PM, O. Kitten<O_Kitten@earthlink.net> wrote:
i know, i hurled earlier when i read that.

-----Original Message-----
From: E.Iguana
Sent: Aug 20, 2008 2:06 PM
To: O.Kitten
Subject: Re: OH dear lord!

OH so the guy I was dating and I ended it. It was mutual, but we agreed to meet up every Wednesday night to watch the Spring Awakening storyline unfold on the new 90210. So phew.

Started watching Long Day's Journey Into Night with Kate! WOO amazing!

Any other evidence will be destroyed. Therefore throwing off pesky journalists when they want to write a tell-all biography about me when I'm dead.

Buckle Your Seatbelts

I watched what would be considered to Act I of A Long Day's Journey Into Night with Katherine Hepburn. I was already tearing up after the end of Act I. I didn't know exactly how the mother could be played out on paper. Seeing it's shocking. She's brilliant. This should be a more well known Katherine Hepburn movie than it is.

Bringing Up Baby

Next Kate Movie: Bringing Up Baby. Really funny, in 1938 it's hard to remember that this witty banter between Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn was ahead of it's time. Both of their timing is lightning quick and I'm amazed at how much of it seems like it's improv. Grant's mumbling seems so natural.

Here's some amazing lines:

Susan Vance: You mean you want *me* to go home?
David Huxley: Yes.
Susan Vance: You mean you don't want me to help you any more?
David Huxley: No.
Susan Vance: After all the fun we've had?
David Huxley: Yes.
Susan Vance: And after all the things I've done for you?
David Huxley: That's what I mean.

[In jail]
Susan Vance: Anyway, David, when they find out who we are they'll let us out.
David Huxley: When they find out who *you* are they'll pad the cell.

Mrs. Random: Well who are you?
David Huxley: I don't know. I'm not quite myself today.
Mrs. Random: Well, you look perfectly idiotic in those clothes.
David Huxley: These aren't my clothes.
Mrs. Random: Well, where are your clothes?
David Huxley: I've lost my clothes!
Mrs. Random: But why are you wearing *these* clothes?
David Huxley: Because I just went gay all of a sudden!
Mrs. Random: Now see here young man, stop this nonsense. What are you doing?
David Huxley: I'm sitting in the middle of 42nd Street waiting for a bus.

[David discovers the leopard in Susan's bathroom]
David Huxley: Susan, you have to get out of this apartment!
Susan Vance: I can't, I have a lease.

[David and Susan have just discovered that Baby is missing]
David Huxley: Now don't lose your head, Susan.
Susan Vance: My what?
David Huxley: Don't lose your head!
Susan Vance: I've got my head, I've lost my leopard!

David Huxley: You don't understand: this is *my* car!
Susan Vance: Your golf ball, your running board, your car? Is there anything in the world that doesn't belong to you?
David Huxley: Yes, thank heavens, YOU!

[reading letter about new leopard]
Susan Vance: "He's three years old, gentle as a kitten, and likes dogs." I wonder whether Mark means that he eats dogs or is fond of them?

[reading letter about new leopard]
Susan Vance: "He's three years old, gentle as a kitten, and likes dogs." I wonder whether Mark means that he eats dogs or is fond of them?

David Huxley: Susan, is there any way to cross this stream?
Susan Vance: Oh, surely it's shallow. We can wade across.
[they both walk into the stream, then fall in after the floor drops off]
David Huxley: Oh, Susan...
Susan Vance: The riverbeds change!

The First Time I Saw My Blood

The first time I have seen my blood since it's all begun. I have seen it before in vials, at least ten at a time. I cut my finger opening a bottle of wine and I noticed a red dot on my plug to my laptop. So bright and red. I was astounded at how simple it looked, but so amazed as how something as small as this little red dot could cause someone to get so nervous.

It did not burn through the power cord. It didn't ruin anything. Yet, in looking at it I was amazed at the crimson color. It seemed so compact and easy to explain. It hardly is that way. No, this liquid tells stories.

I quickly wiped the drop away and applied a band-aid. I am a creature that creates confusion. It's a role I have to play. I may as well do it to my abilities.

Are You The Gatekeeper?

This old man sits at my subway stop late into the night. He always wears a white suit, straw hat and has a cane. He just sits there and lets the trains go by and keep in mind it's VERY hot in the subways this time of year.

I am trying to figure out the proper phrase I can say that will get him to open the gate to whatever world he is guarding. I think they still call it Bay Ridge.

The Manhunt is Done

I just finished reading the OUT Article about Manhunt.net. I'm done with that site for a long while. I went through my my slutty summer phase and pretty much am done. I'm going to rejoin the human race. I don't want to be just anyone's sexual beast anymore.

Even if things don't work out with Poi. Yes, that's the name of the new guy. If you need to ask what poi is, Google can tell you because I sure as hell can't. Even if things don't work out with him, I'll still stay off it. I knew the change was gonna happen after the move. I mean I'll still have wild monkey sex with Poi and really if anyone else in the world if they want to. Just not gonna find it on the internet anymore.

It's become apparent with the recent events of my dating. My lack of communication skills with men I'm attracted has changed drastically. I feel like I sort of mumble, or I just talk about random shit. Or theater. Yes, theater, I know fake your surprise. I, however, can take theatrical talk into a new high. That's me all the time, I'm like an theatrical idiot savant.

Anyway, this can only help me I am sure. Here we go. WWKD? What Would Kate Do?

An Actual Post

Tomorrow is the last day of my internship. How did three months fly by? Well 2³/4 months fly by without my realizing it. As usual I did expect this. There was June, which was filled with with perpetual worry and acrewing my list of things to complain about for the remainder of the summer. Then there was July, birthday, moving and boredom sum up that month. Lastly, now is August and I am about 13 days away until the semester. There was Katherine Hepburn. I suppose this was the summer Iguana met Hepburn. Checkmate indeed!

What has become of this summer? I ask you? I've done much, but so little. I moved, I aged, I crawled out of depression. Okay those are some accomplishments. I've also been stupid and wraith-like at times. Those moments don't need to be relived, they are on file. Reading Long Day's Journey has totally made me realize what I am like when I've been hopped on illegal substances. I think about it, shrug and keep it on file as well.

Mary Tyrone is fascinating, as is Violet from August: Osage County. Two ladies who can't break the habit. Yet, because one was written in 1940 and the other in the 2007. The results are startling similar. My favorite part in A:OC goes something much to the vain that she got clean off drugs, then went back because she liked the world better that way. While Mary apparently has the same feelings, but because every one's to polite to ask. She spends most of the play pretending she's not even doped up on Morphine.

It's not an easy task being fascinated with depression. And no, I haven't found an answer in these characters. I just can understand the point you can get caught into, that you would delve into an altered reality when you face the mundane.

What are years? What is time? It's just a tunnel from one event to the next. There are in between moments, but they're repetitious. You see people, you get to know them. They repeat themselves. You go to work the same time everyday. You sit in the same cubicle. You go to the same place for lunch. You come home and start over once the alarm clock goes off again.

I had these feelings years ago when I read A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham. There's a chapter where Bobby [I think his name was] suddenly jumps seven years because he's sort of given up. I was amazed how Cunningham chose to skip seven years of a character's life. While the others he skipped less.

It was a moment though where I realized that seven years can go by, and there is nothing wrong with that. Sure you're seven years older [30, if I started now]. Life still goes on. You've stalled, but the world has continued to turn.

Now, years later, when my life has taken a turn. A sharp left on a road that was normally straight forward and only a couple of rights every now and then. I want to just be stationary for a while. I want to standstill and breath. I want to openly cry.

Tonight I danced around in my living room with Elizabeth. She watched me play PS2 and then we put on the video I posted before this. And I sang out of key and did my best Annie Golden impersonation. I laughed until I couldn't breath, I made a lean cuisine. Stationary!

What is this? I'm not 10, I'm not just getting used to this. How does one sort out these thoughts correctly? I know at the end of the day I'll still be odd and off. I'll still be loud and awkward. Those are scars of the last 2.5 years. Right now though, I am entering a place I haven't been allowed into. I'm still lost as all hell, but this is a good resting point for the time being.

Annie Golden. You saw is here first.

I can't really explain this but it's amazing.

This Should Come As No Surprise...

I'm reading A Long Day's Journey Into Night. Do I love it? Do drag queens like big wigs? Mary Tyrone of course is my favorite character. Eugene O'Neill writes addiction so well. Her mannerisms and her speech are so convincing. It's uncanny especially considering this premiered in 1956.

And to have seen Ms. Redgrave play this role must have been amazing. I'll put up with Katherine Hepburn, because I'm sure she's got this character nailed.

What are you staring at, is it my hair?

Mary Jane Gabler

I know I'm late on reporting this, but I found out last night. I chose to sleep instead of frantically post. However, let it be known that the moment before I found out I had just finished watching Season one of Weeds on DVD.

Mary Louise Parker, my favorite bitchy stage door encounter. Who will be forever linked to my memories in two different ways. Is returning to Broadway to take Hedda Gabler on. Now as exciting as this sounds, I'm wary. Hedda is not a Mary Louise Persona. So let's see her bring on the acting skills!

Mary Louise is known for her lack of emotion, added with her distinct vocal qualities. Her dead pan delivery is brilliant. Hedda is a tight lipped character who rarely shows emotion, I'm truly curious to see how this will all end up. Christopher Shinn is writing the adaptation so he'll work with her. Roundabout still can fuck is up, as they often do. I can just picture this sitting room drama with a turntable.

I'll be right there cheering you on Mary Louise Parker! Even if you were bitchy to me when all I wanted was an autograph. I share the same birthday with Billy, I understand.

I'm published.

My last name is officially published and traceable. That's scary and cool. It makes the whole internship a cool little payoff. In my youth it's truly amazing.

In a rush of insanity and panic. I spent way to much money today. I bought tickets to a show in September, purchased some more Katherine Hepburn materials. The Lion in Winter really hooked me into this legend. Granted I caught her in her prime in that movie. I purchased The African Queen, A Long Days Journey Into Night and Me: Memories From My Life by Kate. I figured I'd give her a chance to weave a spell on me. I know her for the ruthless business woman and determined spirit she is.

Then to keep the theme I purchased the complete works of Eugene O'Neill and a book on play writing. I want to inspire myself to start writing again. I have ideas, but no basic training. I can't take the class at school, so I figure let's do it ourselves. You can. That's a big step in a good direction!

I have an angel on my pectoral. It's peeling and itchy. Bill somehow make the wings look like pastel crayons. Bravo Bill, bravo. I was thinking of abandoning him after the last time. For shame!

I spent a night at home tonight. Playing video games with Elizabeth and then eating a lean cuisine. That's so calm.

Truly calm.

Okay, remember this moment. Take it in. Remember the music, the way your body feels right now. Calm, still, soft breath. Stephan Sondheim, a dim light. Annie Golden's powerful vibrato fading away and a piano fills the room. Smile, allow yourself to smile. Enjoy the moment of clarity that you're now in. Take a breath, inhale, hold, exhale. Now allow for life you continue on with this moment. Then hold onto it until the next moment happens.

Knowing how soon, it'll fade away.

One Flew Over

After my father inadvertently asked me if I was on speed, I knew my trip home was coming to a close.

So I sit in the back of the car wondering what did I do to become the messed up one in my family. When did being excited and energetic about things suddenly become an accusal of being on drugs? I’m the first to admit I’m off, the nickname says it all. I’m 23, I’m a theatrical studies major at a CUNY school and I’m battling some issues outside of my comfort zones.

Everyone in my family holds daggers. We all seem to know the trump cards we can play on one another. My father, the patriarch, seems to hold them until he can play them assuredly and without much struggle. I’ve barely seen him this weekend and he chooses to drop this on me in the car. Ah, home again, home again.

Then I go through the opening act of apologizing for myself. Telling my parents I am trying to calm down and halfway through the sentence I stop and quote the great prophet Jerry Herman: I am what I am. That scores a point for me, right? The refusal to be embarrassed and ashamed. It means I’m getting more comfortable.

Then there are the facts. The traits I see in my parents and my Oma. The blatant WASP-y ways of my family. The belief that all issues can be cured by pure will. The constant want to believe that our family is the most normal of the other's around them.

Let’s go through what this presents to my life and what I can do to amend what may be weighing on my mind. First, there is the option to never return home again. I obviously have reached a point in my life where the border has been drawn. Me vs. Them. True, there will be unavoidable issues like Christmas. You do still [sort of] love the company of your mom and dad and immediate family. Yet, minimize the trips down to no more than two times a year.

Second, you can change. You know that these issues expand outside of your family. Everyone sort of always raises an eyebrow with you. Me vs. Myself. You have people telling you that you’re obsessive and fairly nuts. You’re not changing necessarily for them, just to work out issues. Which in a way is what you’re doing already?

Third, you can ignore it all and continue on being who you are and living the same pattern. Me vs. Nothing.

Am I standing at a crossroads? No better yet, am I driving down to a crossroads in a Greyhound bus and by the time I arrive back in Port Authority I must choose one.

Now for a solution. Yes, that’s right I have a solution. I have been doing well, I have been much calmer and I have been more orderly. I am touchy, I admit. I will snap and I will fight. Upstate, NY is my hometown. It was where I was raised, but I don’t live there anymore. This weekend I saw many people who had already given in. The thing is I am returning to a place that I am wedging myself into. I come home and I may snap or be sharp. I’d like to believe that people do enjoy my company, if not then I need some people to start speaking up. I am going to keep on trying to figure out how to mellow out. Each month along means a month of figuring that out. We’re entering seven months since life broke. Remember that. If you didn’t have a drastic mood change in life than something would’ve been more off.

Growing Up Jehovah

My Oma and Opa [German for Grandma and Grandpa] are stuck in a time rift. When I enter there house there are two things I notice. The silence and how I seem to stop aging from the moment I set foot in there.

I would call it a house, but I prefer the proper name. Narnia. It's a mix of Germany, the 60s and 70s mixed with kitsch and tackiness all at the same time. Phenomenal. Then there's her Garden, I expected to see Mr. Tumulus, but he was at Fire Island for the weekend.

I'll let the photos speak now...