Time Draws Nigh

The Velvet Rage is almost done. Not for me, but the book. Fascinating, the lot of it. It's obvious, but as the author says at some point. It's not always so obvious at the time. All the anger and hate I've been feeling towards myself. With this book making these issues known, it's helping me actually be able to articulate them for once.

I have two Sunday classes left, one of them being the final for Philosophies of India and China. That's the one final I'm terrified of, I don't know how I'll necessarily pass any of them. This ones gonna be the most difficult though. These two weeks will pass and suddenly it will all be done. With a hoot and a holler I will be done. Five years to get to a point of complete confusion.

In an ironic turn of events. I got a jury summons in the mail. They want me there on the day I walk in graduation. I laughed for a long while upon receiving that one. I'll postpone, but still. Hah!

I had a date on Friday. It was unexpected. I need to go back a few days though . . .

On Tuesday I visited my drag queen friend at a bar where she was hosting the night. It was rainy and empty when I entered. My friend came up and said, "Hi honey, wanna win $50 bucks in a Hot Package Contest?" Of course I said yes.

There was no competition and I stripped down to my undies. I won because it was me against a go-go boy and a mail clerk. Plus, I knew most of the people in the bar, still it was very empty. I could use the 50 bucks. After my lackluster performance I jumped off stage and an older man sitting near my friends was looking at me.

I mentioned I had Judy Garland tattoo'd on my rib cage and the man chimed in that he was so impressed that a person my age would have that sort of tattoo. That night I got drunk so incredibly quickly that I was highly talkative when he began our discussion.

Considering on Monday the Vespa-Rider decided to play the 5th in a long line of reoccurring situations. I was not going to deny a man's conversation. I was drinking and he was incredibly polite. I learned he was a film professor spending some time visiting friends in the city—he teaches in Boston—and he gave me his card. I thought nothing off it. I knew he was probably somewhere in his forties and in the lighting I couldn't tell if he was attractive or not. Plus, I was drunk.

I returned home and went to bed. I thought nothing of the polite gestures and figured it would end there. On Thursday, he called me to talk. It's been a while since a man could discuss theater, film and the arts. I told him I was 23 and I heard him have a small stroke over the phone. I told him not to worry, these things don't bother me.

I figured a date couldn't hurt. We set up plans for Friday. He learned from my stripping that I had a nice body, I'm unemployed and I have a Judy Garland tattoo. So he took me to dinner and the ballet.

Yes, dinner and the ballet. We spoke so eloquently and got along very well. I learned he was 44, but that doesn't bother me, as I said. He was a gentleman. After the ballet we walked around the park and held hands. We laid on the grass and made out. I told him no more that that, I have plenty to reveal in other days.

It was a positive experience overall. I'm taking it with a grain of salt and we shall see.

In other news, I had dinner with The ShyGuy. He was curt with me tonight because of his new medicine. I care about him more than he possibly will ever know. I don't like to be scolded for simple things and I told him, "I'm going home after dinner." He apologized, but it hurt me. He's already so hard to read, I don't need to suffer from anything more. He knows this, it's funny what we feel for ones we care about.

Liza At The Palace

The semester is through. It's time for Christmas and it's blizzarding out. I feel weird. Odd.

My gift for you...

There But For The Grace of God Go I

I finished that paper. With that out of the way and two more tests tomorrow. I'll be over the hill! Then, Upstate New York! The dregs of the state. I'll be incredibly bored, but I won't have to pay for anything. That seems to be key in this game. No tattoos planned, just resting and reading and relaxing. Going to the mall and driving around the rent-a-car. Listening to music, working on my resume.

With that, I'll have one more semester until I graduate! Hurrah! I will get through it and do the whole "degree acceptance thing." It really doesn't mean anything, it just means I have prolonged normal living.

Then there begins the terror of getting a job. All I hear constantly is people getting fired and hours getting cut. That finding a job of any type is pointless, there's so many unemployed. It seems that the drug business is the only thing to get into.

If that were to happen, I assure you, I will omit it from this part of my life. I don't need any evidence. I've seen Oz, I don't really want to go to jail.

We shall see. I keep having visions of myself on the garbage truck working for my father, picking up trash. Or building a road for Obama. Oh, what the future holds. I truly do believe we are in the Great Depression, despite positive thinking. Lets see what happens shall we?

Overbooked?

It's 4 AM. Finals are my life. I haven't consistently been to the gym in over a week. I feel my eyes constantly tearing up.

I am more messy than I have ever been. It's finals time, I am like a hurricane, destroying all in my wake. I designed a set today while listening to Shirley Bassey for hours on end. After three hours of her nonstop, I realized something was wrong and switched to Rilo Kiley.

Then I worked wardrobe for a TV Pilot that will not take off. If it did, then I would be amazed. It's experience and interesting. I am going to bed soon because low and behold we have to get up and be there again at 1 PM to[day]morrow. Luckily, it's down the street, which makes me happy. Unfortunately I won't have time for the gym...as far as I know I'm not waking up to go in the morning.

I miss the gym, I miss the gym. I miss the gym! I want to run again. Oh, Ambien, you kick in so quickly. I am going to lay down.

I am going to try and appear coherent for the next couple of weeks. I will fail often, almost more than often. I'm waiting for little things to make me happy.

For example. I've been promised a ticket to see Liza at the Palace from my roommate. I'm waiting for when it will appear. With finals I fear that may be a promise that just may not happen. Or, I am waiting for the Support Group to contact me about an intake session. Yet, no one has called. It's made me nervous. I should call back, but I'm so busy I forget.

It's still 4 AM.

Then there's me, waiting, for the grace of God to show up. I am waiting for my body to change and tell me it's okay to smile again. It's okay to clean up the room and get a job again. It's okay, you're worth something these days.

The computer screen is starting to move slowly in my drugged up eyes. So I'll end this quickly. I am in a state of emotional stress. Oh, but I know we all are. So in my defense, just be understanding and be polite.

Take a moment in your life to tell someone you know that you love them. Or give someone a gift. Or reconnected with a new person and show them you care too. Don't allow others to feel as lonely as you yourself have become.

Everything is swirly right now

Oh, finals times. How strangely written you are.

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.

Growing up is hard to do

I just made my first payment on my credit card! This means I'm turning into an adult...right? It's exciting because that means I'll be building a credit line and that someday I will qualify for a lease! Baby steps, baby steps. It makes wanting to leave my job difficult because well you can't make credit card payments when you have no income...well you can...can you?

Today was a Christmas party at my job, speaking of work. I drank as much wine as I could possibly and I did financial printing while slightly drunk. Yes BlackRock, I am making edits and typesetting your 497 forms...drunk. Take that! It was fun, except for the fact that I can't really stand most of the people I work with. It's all older middle aged men whom I have nothing to discuss. I don't talk about sports, tits or anything of that subject matter.

If I mentioned something like Patti LuPone Live at Les Mouches, they might have lynched me right there in the office. By the way I finally obtained that recording. I appreciate Leslie Kritzer's performance of it now cause she really captured a young Patti debuting in the city we call New York. I also find it funny that the Leslie version of the CD will not be coming out because Ms. LuPone promptly said, "Tell Ms. Kritzer to get her OWN act!" No one can really perform Heaven Is A Disco like Patti can though.

Friday can't come fast enough, but I know it will come soon. I will be done with the semester (save for the incomplete) and heading home to NYC. Not before having one last goodbye to the Tall Man. I enjoy his company and his body. We have this fun flirt-y thing going on, but I dare not take it another step because that would mean fucking it up...once again.

My dear friend, Britt, has finally revealed her whereabouts, as she hadn't returned any calls to me for the last month or so. Finals at Pratt for I.D. majors is difficult so I understand. I miss her though. More than I can possibly say. Needless to say we are meeting tomorrow to be ladies who lunch.

You're gonna love me like nobody's loved me. Come rain or come shine.

Finals Thoughts

In the midst of Finals I am taking a small break to write a quick entry. The Patti LuPone Pillow drama, I will not allow it to defeat me. I couldn't find it, for it is TRULY lost. I will get the INC and go on with my life as it was meant to be. That's the best I can do. Granted I had my usual insomnia attack, but I overcame.

Insomnia is more cracked up than people make it seem. When I can't sleep I feel oh so stressed it's true. Then for a moment I realize I'm in some sort of elite percentage. Fie on those who sleep soundly. It just makes you feel much more unique than those who pretend their lives aren't without strife.

In my finals and trying to plan theater for my return to the states. Oh listen to me, talking like a world traveler already. Anyway, I am thrilled because I will be seeing Happy Days by Beckett at BAM, starring Fiona Shaw, also know as Aunt Petunia from the Harry Potter movies. For those of you who don't know the play is basically a long monologue performed by a woman who in the first act is buried up to her waist in sand. Then the second act she's buried up to her head in sand. I've always wanted to see a production of it.


I just bought Beckett's collection of plays. So I will be reading it very soon. His novel, Molloy, is probably one of the most genius pieces of writing I've ever read. Some how his use of language makes sense to me. I do admit it takes will to read on. When Molloy went on about the pebbles I was entranced, where to keep them and his logic of the pockets. Then part two started and it totally fucked with my mind.

Then in my excitement, for I truly love BAM now and the great theater is gives me. I wanted to see the new production of Hansel & Gretel at the Met Opera. For The Met I can only afford the tickets that sit up in Heaven. I can't see well from Heaven. Too bright.

I found out at BAM they how TV showings of it for 22 bucks. It's brilliant. Like the professionally tape the operas to show and probably for archive reasons. So I'm going to that too...

Lastly, I hope when I go home I can make a tattoo visit: I've always loved Joan Miro so I wanted to get this...


The little creature and the stars. A great introduction to color if I do say so
myself...

P.S. I just helped my friend get a connection for 'shrooms...does that make me a drug pusher?

Marion Williams

Now, I'm not one for God's music. Yet, Marion Williams has transformed that a touch. In other words this whole missing a pillow thing had FUCKED me up emotionally. I was so on track with finals, everything was turning out well. Then to have this road bump, I just feel defeated. Absolutely defeated.

The Ballad of the Patti LuPone Pillow

Anecdote time:

I sit here looking at the backside of my Patti LuPone pillow. Where just yesterday for the third time, I finally sewed in the zipper. It isn't the best job, but I managed to managed to make a zipper. I admit this pillow has been the bane of my finals. I have pressed on though, appliqueing Patti's head to the fabric (from Evita). I have spent a while cross stitching "LuPone Sweet LuPone" into the front. I was one E away from finishing that and then all I'd need to do is sew the front and back together.

Cut and stitch to yesterday. I brought the front part of my pillow into work to finish the embroidering. I sat throughout work focusing on finishing it. I even looked at my little canvas bag, which I keep all my sewing items in and thought, "You're going to lose this today." Like the prophet I am. I tried to deny my prediction by telling myself that because I thought of that scenario it can't happen now. I have prepared myself for it.

In my excitement to get to the Tall Man's apartment I left work. In my daze of leaving work I am torn. Half of me says I slung the canvas bag over my shoulder (as I often do) and went on my way. The other half was high on cocaine apparently to give a viable story. I arrive to Tall Man's place and I am offered a bowl. Which I gladly accept and he makes a joke about how I was working on my pillow. In my happiness I explain, "Oh I have it here! I can show you!"

Now ladies and gentleman, Iguana's distress sung by Patti LuPone herself:

A desert road from Vegas to nowhere
Someplace better than were you've been
A coffee machine that needs some fixin'
In a little cafe just around the bend

Chorus:
I am calling you
Can't you hear me?
I am calling you

A hot dry wind blows right through me
The baby's crying and I can't sleep
But we both know that a change is coming
Come on closer, sweet release

Chorus

So the panic began, just as the highness began. The Tall Man was ever so polite to deal with a wreck. I actually handled it pretty well. I felt like one of those mothers who kill their baby and then pretend they were kidnapped or that someone else killed them. It's true I was unhappy with the pillow, but I never wished that it would disappear like that! I should go on CNN and make my plea now because people start to get suspicious!

I am taking every precaution to find it. As most guilty parties do. I retraced all my steps to the subway station, in perfect detail too. As if I'd planned it all out ahead of time. I called work and asked them if they found it anywhere, specifically the bathroom and the places where people leave their bags. Two locations I knew it wouldn't be. I asked the woman at the booth in the subway station if anyone turned it in and I am going to check back at work today on last time. Regardless that I know they won't be there.

You can reach me by railway, you can reach me by trailway
You can reach me on an airplane, you can reach me with your mind
You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man
I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can
You can reach me by sail boat, climb a tree and swing rope to rope
Take a sled and slide down the slope, into these arms of mine
You can jump on a speedy colt, cross the border in a blaze of hope
I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can

There are hills and mountains between us
Always something to get over
If I had my way, surely you would be closer
I need you closer oh closer

You can windsurf into my life, take me up on a carpet ride
You can make it in a big balloon, but you better make it soon
You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man yeah
I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can

I don't care, I need you right here right now
I need you right here right now right by my side
Yeah yeah yeah
I don't care how you get here, just get here, get here
I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can
Get here if you can

Who knows if it'll turn up. I'll take the incomplete, email my teacher to give her a heads up and go to China regardless. I'll make a new one, when I return. I think I'll start from scratch and just make a much more simple and less complex pillow...Yes, I'll do JUST that. Like children, pillows can be replaced. Then I'll work on getting my own TV show on Fox based off the scandal this will produce.

I am calling you. Just get here if you can

Can you show her where we keep the euphemism

Stress, stress, stress. La Dee Da!

Papers and pillows to make. China to visit, yet try to keep off my mind because I'll psyche myself out. Artists planning our futures together, when I'm not sure I'd like it that way. Yet, retaining sex in fear of "fucking things up." Christmas to go home to. Family to see. Random party to hold. Sweeney Todd to see before I fly to China, literally before.

Beckett to read by choice. Yes. I said Beckett's NOVELS to read by choice. Am I intentionally making myself stressed? The answer is yes/no. I haven't been to a show in a while, which adds to the stress. This week though, there will be Kiki & Herb: The Second Coming at Carnegie Hall and The Homecoming at the Court Theater. That will be my final show before I go to China.

Deep breath, breathe deep.

I've recently read Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Wow. The show pulverized me. I'm currently obsessing as usual, I am in the middle of watching the 2004 revival. The movie will be next. I plan on researching a touch to find out more. Albee has his hold on me. It could be worse.

Break in between things...

I'm resting my brain...not even like I'm doing that much. I've just lost the knack for staying focused. This weekend besides drugs, I also saw The Golden Compass...I didn't think it was all that bad. Granted I do agree that it could have been 100000 times better. So I guess that means I didn't like it. They handed you too much and never let you guess what was going to happen next. As well as the fact they withheld the original ending. Which is bullshit. At the end of Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, that hardly had a happy ending, but because we knew that there were two other books to come.

This would be the same idea. Yet, we had to give it a promising and happy ending for the people who haven't read the books. Well I hope you're happy Chris Weitz for compromising your artistic integrity. Sure, opening weekend will be terrific, but why would you want to see it after the lame reviews it's been getting? I would love to see the other two on screen, but after this I feel nervous to trust Mr. Weitz in making these movies. He may need to be stopped.

I thought Nicole Kidman really did well as Mrs. Coulter.

Otherwise, I went on date number two with this new guy. I will call him The Artist. The Artist is actually only 25, which means we are only 3 years apart. He's one odd duck and for that I feel comfortable in his presence. Actually as I write this he is coming to my place now to be a distraction. I'm surprised but happy by that....I am going to stop writing now since I have to work on homework until he arrives.