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...