Patterns — A Story of Loneliness

I've had three rather successful dates with this Film Professor. Tonight we saw a badly acted, but lesser known Tennessee Williams play: Vieux Carré. I really enjoyed the writing and he went some interesting places with it. It was his last Broadway play, and I wish I could see it with talent behind it.

As per my usual. The Film Professor is scared of my affliction. It makes them nervous, it always does and always will. No matter how many times I go through this, I still get upset. There's also his age vs. mine that seems to bother him. He is a good 20 years older than me. So I suppose I see that too. Then there is also the space, as he lives in Boston normally and is spending the rest of the summer in L.A.

A chance meeting in a bar a week ago. That concluded seven days later. It was a pleasant affair and it will be hard to let go of something that has clicked so easily. He can discuss theater and movies so easily. We speak so well to each other and the attraction is there.

All I hear in my mind is these words I once heard from a stranger in the night. "Someday you will want a normal life. Quit your ways before it's to late." I heard that such a long time ago and I can't help but feeling it's a curse. Like a warning uttered by a gypsy. He was telling me the truth, and I was to late. I was to late.

That's the part that hurts to most and makes me cry.

Miss Otis Regrets...

So much to not say. So little not to do. Where doth the time fly?

New Orleans, this Thursday. Back on the plane, this time heading towards the gorgeous South! Land of Plastic beads and Tennessee Williams! Oh, perhaps I should reread some 10? I sometimes long for him, I long from that time when I first read his words and felt whole new worlds opening. Beautiful and tragic. The Kingdom of Heaven does not come at an easy price!

Today has been a day of no work. Shame, shame, shame. I did discover Patti LaBelle's version of Miss Otis Regrets that has sent me giggling like a 14-year-old school girl every time I start it! You need to hear it to believe it! She turns it into a harrowing tale.

When she woke up and found that her dream of love was...GOOOOONNNNNE! Madame! She ran, she ran to the man! Who lead her astray!

And from under a black velvet gown! She drew a gun and SHOT her love down...Madame!

Miss Otis Regrets! She's unable, unable, UNABLE! To lunch...TODAY!

When the mob came and got her! And dragged her from the jail! MADAME! They strung her up! Up! UP! On the Willow across the way!

Tonight a boy I have befriended has revealed that he has feelings for me. It was straight-forward and to the point. I appreciated that, and felt warmly happy inside. I responded with, "I am all types of unstable right now. Just be my friend for now." He's young and naive and I feel that if I touched his body it would melt like a freshly fallen snowflake.

I want him to be in my life. As a friend for now. I don't know how I feel about him, but I like his friendship. That's what's important, right? To value the friendships you have before anything else. Perhaps someday I'll be able to feel that same way in return. Of course, then it will be to late and I'll realize how "Julia Roberts" my life has become.

Lastly, I leave you with various pictures of Jennifer Holliday making weird faces at the Tony Awards:

The one that got her the Tony Award:

Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today.

Two-a-Day

Saw Speed-The-Plow last night and for the first time in a while. I will say. Bravo, Raul Esparza, bravo. The whole show was terrific though. I've never experienced Mamet before and his writing is like music. The first act was like a duet, so quick and rapid that I loved getting lost in the beat of the music they were creating.

Tonight I'm seeing Dividing the Estate by Horton Foote. I'm seeing it to witness Elizabeth Ashley at least once in my life. I believe that anyone who has played Maggie the Cat will live forever. Elizabeth Ashley's immortal, isn't she?

Elizabeth gave me a little purple hat to wear. I need to buy a winter hat. My head is freezing, but I haven't had a chance to buy one. I won't just buy any old hat, so I need the time to look. Does anyone still wear a hat?

San Francisco in a week. I am eager to leave, but I feel so odd. I'm abandoning school so easily. I have things due back when I return, but I hopefully will work on them before or during the trip. I say that very sarcastically, but I'm sure I'll have some down time. We do have some plans so far. Going out to Alcatraz. I do love a trip by boat to an island along with a tape recorded audio tour! Oh, that will be very grand. Also we plan on doing this. Big hats and variety acts!

By chance of fate I started reading The Beautiful Room Is Empty by Edmund White on the train ride home this evening. I think it's in my future to write a coming-of-age gay novel. I read these books and find the same thought processes that the narrators have. Am I a literary character? Are my thoughts original at all? How did I have them before I read these books? With the end of my life be just two words: The End?

If it's destiny, than who am I to interfere?

Lastly, I leave you with:

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.

Beginning of the rest of my week

How wonderful of my school to start rehearsals for Two Gentlemen of Verona before spring break is complete. So instead of having a weekend I get tech rehearsals. It's two days of annoyance and me being stoned. That's all I've been able to figure out. No amount of pot can cancel this one out. Okay, Alice take your stance and entertain me.

I have to go in about and hour or so, which isn't thrilling me. I am not going to stay for the whole dry run. I don't give a shit about this one folks. I'll be watching the show for day after day and I like when things are new to me. Plus, I like the musical better.

I swear, Liza Minnelli has done three final verses of City Lights from The Act. She keeps stopping and adding another chorus. Yet, this is why she won the Tony in 1971 isn't it?

In other news. I spent the last 48 hours being the laziest person in the entire world. I enjoyed it. I could only bring myself to playing FFXII for hour at a time. Perhaps I'll play it tonight while I skip the dry run. We shall cross that bridge when we get to it?

Honestly, what is Liza singing now? She's just wailing about needing him. Which is funny because if I could swear, there are no other characters but Liza in The Act. Oh and her backup dancers.

My friend called me out today telling me I write my blog, the same way Tennessee Williams wrote his Memoirs. Well isn't that the nicest compliment in the world. What's funny is I must've just unintentionally done it, because, well, I wasn't aware. Let's face it, I practically infused the man's soul to mine. Of course we'll have some things in common.

Cat on a Black Tin Roof

Yes, that's right I went there. Today I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. This was the first New York Production that was an all black cast. James Earl Jones, Phylicia Rashad, Anika Noni Rose and Terrance Howard all headlined this one.

Cat has never been my favorite 10 play. I'm more partial to The Night of the Iguana, which I'll be seeing in two weeks. Yet, that rarely gets a revival, meanwhile Cat gets a revival every couple of years (it seems). After today I understand why. TW wrote a brilliant, utterly brilliant play. The speech just flows to you and you are enraptured by it. Maggie's end of Act I speech is hypnotizing! The scene where Brick tries to hit Maggie is frightening but hilarious. Anytime Big Daddy is on stage you feel in Awe! With that said it doesn't mean the acting was on par with what I hoped for. Overall it was an interesting production, but the audience was what got me.

Anika was sensational as Maggie. And I'm not saying this cause I'm a gushing gay man. She was genuinely amazing. Her first Act tirades were well received by my ears. She's such a beautiful woman too and when she was in her slip my cheeks grew red.

James Earl Jones was demanding and powerful. He played Big Daddy as if the show was always written for him. He did make some acting choices that were fascinating. I wasn't sure they were choices, but I figured probably. He would squat at times and it just worked.

Terrance Howard was drunker than I expected. A little disappointing.

Phylicia was...well she was chewing the scenery as she's always done. She was good though. Watching this with an all black cast I realized how well it worked. I loved that they used the uncensored script, but some people disagree. If they only knew what replaced those words. Ducking? I ask you.

Now the audiences I'll say right off were primarily African-American. It's always an enlivening experience to go to the theater with a majority being black. When I saw the Color Purple, I may as well have been in a southern baptist church. Today's audience was that way, but what's sad is that many didn't know that this play it's a farcical comedy.

Oh and boy do I admit, Debbie Allen's directorial choices were to blame. The third act I think was a farce, people were coming and going. Comedy all around! So I can't tell if it was the audience who was looking for humor or it was the way it was directed. But they laughed at EVERYTHING.

"Are you calling me a queer?" Brick asks. They laugh.

"Big Daddy has cancer!" They laugh when Phylicia does something funny in her hysterics.

"I love you Brick." Maggie says to which Brick responds drunkenly, "If only I could believe you." The biggest laugh in the show.

In case you're unaware these are some of the most upsetting parts in the play. Did Debbie Allen search for the comedy (it's from doing all those Oscar shows) because she believed that Black people can't sit through a serious play? I mean there are some deep and tragic issues addressed in this show and while it's okay to laugh in the first act. Act II and III are not half as funny. Yet the laughter continued.

Confusing. Does thinking about this make a racist?