After my SCU whirlwind extravaganza and a delicious crab cake benedict (V had the Carnitas benedict) at Bill's Restaurant in Santa Clara, I was off to Portland, OR. I lived in Portland after college for two years. It was a very specific time in my life. We had so much fun drinking beer and listening to bands. My hair was long, I wore satin pants without undies sometimes and strutted my stuff.
My crush that first year was Jonathan Cook, who was a Jewish hippie who treated me badly, had a nice package and had dreadlocks. I was the envy of many girls I knew, who had no idea he liked men. My first clue was when he walked into my office with sweatpants and no undies. I made out with him at my birthday party that year. That's another story.
I started out living with five interesting characters. We were together in a year long volunteer service program called JVC, which stood for Jesuit Volunteer Corps. When I was home that summer after college graduation, I got a letter describing my housemates. While this is not accurate, this is how I now remember it:
Suzie Baldwin (Suzanne) - Suzie graduated from St. Michael's College in VT and will be doing a second year in Portland as a JV. She's a spitfire, a bit of a know-it-all, and ultimately won't find it funny when you hit on her future husband at Chris' wedding in three years.
Jennifer Kiely - from Newtown, CT and a graduate of Providence College in Rhode Island. She's an 80 year old woman in a 22 year old body. She uses phrases like "dog's age" and "darkie." You'll have one huge fight where you both blow up because you aren't putting up with the other person's shit. She'll ignore you on FB when you're in your thirties and she has children.
Erica French - from Texas. She'll be the person you connect with right away. She's got big hair, she's Latina and she'll be out of your life in three weeks when she realizes that she really likes her credit cards and hates the poor.
Sharon Goebel - Sharon's from Indianapolis and went to Marian College. She'll turn the other cheek when you make her take you to Burger King for a secret snack after you've told your entire house that you're now a vegetarian. Then she'll disappear for years, only to reappear on FB with a stepdaughter and six weeks from marriage.
Chris Flanagan - graduated from St. Michael's College. Chris is the guy in the house. The Irish Catholic guy who might be the template for the guys you have a crush on and eventually end up with years later. He will forever be recognized for his famous "I will not walk on eggshells" speech. You make an effort to see him at least once every two years when you're close by on business. He's the person you're most in touch with years later.
Eric Loo - loves to sing and dance. He's gay, but will tell you he's bi when he meets you. He'll probably piss most of you off because he thinks he knows it all and he's got a superiority thing. He will go from Catholic school boy to whore in a matter of weeks. He'll give up on the volunteer thing to go work in the cutthroat world of advertising where he'll have a new set of fancy friends, but will always have you in his heart. Even as he travels to New York and eventually makes it back to LA.
Now when I drive down the streets of Portland and see how much has changed - an American Apparel on Hawthorne Blvd, the emergence of a real food scene, the Pearl District - I remember the ghosts of Portland Past. And I head into my Portland present, which is basically my brother experiencing some of the same things I did. But he's older than I was when I lived there and he's got a lawyer wife and a three month old baby.
I remark at how easy it still is to get around. Only 10 minutes from his house in Brooklyn to the Pearl District. Even at 1 pm in the afternoon. I live in LA. That's remarkable. And I hear the names of neighborhoods which have hit their gentrified height and didn't even exist when I lived there: Alberta and Mississippi. But it still feels good to be surrounded by the wind and the chill as I walk with my little baby niece in a baby bjorn and get congratulated on my new little arrival.
So in Portland Present, I am a cute straight dude with a baby attached to my front. I laugh and thank the man.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Dinner and Carolyn
Then we all got together for dinner at Mio Vecino, an Italian restaurant near the campus. The thing of note: my former professors all eat way too much bread. Bread baskets, garlic bread and bruschetta as appetizers. I felt it would be too rude to say no. Great conversations with Barbara about life and writing. Great talks with Jerry about his Japanese, although he didn't get I was joking when I said I knew there was a reason he was so nice to me when I was a student. Yellow fever! I was kidding, Jerry! I swear!
Slant Eyes adores Jerry!
So then my favorite professor, Carolyn came in. And when I say favorite, that doesn't mean that I don't love everyone else. It's just that Carolyn had the greatest influence on me. She helped birth my creativity.
Carolyn Silberman was the person who let me create dances and taught me about Justice in the Arts and art as a social service. She told me that doing art and doing service were not mutually exclusive.
So Carolyn comes in with her slender, young self, jean jacket and warm face. There are so many things about that night with Carolyn that meant so much to me. First of all, the revelation that she thought I was going to pursue dance after college. What? I was the kid who danced in Adam Zotovich's shadow. Yes, I choreographed dances and was pretty good at it, but pursue dance? Wow. I guess the thing that meant the most was that she thought that I warranted giving it a shot. Please, I love writing. And I'm glad that I pursued writing. But I always wanted to be a dancer, since I was six and my mom told me my family couldn't afford jazz dance classes. It was a 12 year old dream I took with me to college. So it meant a lot to me to have her say that. Especially since I respect her so much. She said that I had just begin to come into my own when I left college. All I can say is wow. That means a lot.
We decided to go grab a drink at Fiorello's and some of my favorite quotes included:
"You can never go wrong with Kendall Jackson."
"Okay, if you can't decide on a wine, you can never go wrong with a Martini."
"I didn't have anything to eat. So sugar isn't a good choice. Let's see the wine list."
And she's not a lush, I swear. She's just amazing and a great character. She's so inspiring and artfully articulate, that I forgot how funny she is without even knowing it. I adore her and I'm proud that I'm someone she shone her light on. It was the best night.
When Carolyn dropped me off, she asked me if I keep in touch with my English professors (I was an English major, not a theatre or dance major). And I don't. I only keep in touch with my theatre and dance professors. And the only people I made it a point to see individually were my two dance professors. Because they encouraged me to be creative and make my own original art. And years later, I'm still making original art. Thank you.
I'm about music, humor, art, and service. And that describes my college education to a T.
Slant Eyes adores Jerry!
So then my favorite professor, Carolyn came in. And when I say favorite, that doesn't mean that I don't love everyone else. It's just that Carolyn had the greatest influence on me. She helped birth my creativity.
Carolyn Silberman was the person who let me create dances and taught me about Justice in the Arts and art as a social service. She told me that doing art and doing service were not mutually exclusive.
So Carolyn comes in with her slender, young self, jean jacket and warm face. There are so many things about that night with Carolyn that meant so much to me. First of all, the revelation that she thought I was going to pursue dance after college. What? I was the kid who danced in Adam Zotovich's shadow. Yes, I choreographed dances and was pretty good at it, but pursue dance? Wow. I guess the thing that meant the most was that she thought that I warranted giving it a shot. Please, I love writing. And I'm glad that I pursued writing. But I always wanted to be a dancer, since I was six and my mom told me my family couldn't afford jazz dance classes. It was a 12 year old dream I took with me to college. So it meant a lot to me to have her say that. Especially since I respect her so much. She said that I had just begin to come into my own when I left college. All I can say is wow. That means a lot.
We decided to go grab a drink at Fiorello's and some of my favorite quotes included:
"You can never go wrong with Kendall Jackson."
"Okay, if you can't decide on a wine, you can never go wrong with a Martini."
"I didn't have anything to eat. So sugar isn't a good choice. Let's see the wine list."
And she's not a lush, I swear. She's just amazing and a great character. She's so inspiring and artfully articulate, that I forgot how funny she is without even knowing it. I adore her and I'm proud that I'm someone she shone her light on. It was the best night.
When Carolyn dropped me off, she asked me if I keep in touch with my English professors (I was an English major, not a theatre or dance major). And I don't. I only keep in touch with my theatre and dance professors. And the only people I made it a point to see individually were my two dance professors. Because they encouraged me to be creative and make my own original art. And years later, I'm still making original art. Thank you.
I'm about music, humor, art, and service. And that describes my college education to a T.
Being Human, Chapter Two
So after having a lovely sandwich with David, I had to go do this panel. I was a LITTLE buzzed when it started, so I was nervous about what was going to come out.
Thankfully, I held it together. Some things that all of us had in common were that we were all in relationships with people who were also in our line of work, we felt that our training at Santa Clara prepared us well, and we were all happy to go back to SCU to share our experiences.
The students had good questions. Some of the guys were smoking hot. I was hoping to be more of a "mentor" to some of the jockier looking ones. Hee, hee...
But it was great. Really gratifying and really got me back in the mindset of maybe doing some teaching. It was nice to know that my experiences could be helpful. And seriously, talking to my professors really reminded me of the type of student I was: hopeful, enthusiastic and a total character.
It was also nice to know that they still thought of me all these years later. I was just a dude that really wanted to dance and write and SCU allowed me that freedom to make mistakes, which is the point that all of us panelists made to the students. Go and experiment and do and try. That's probably the best thing that my education gave me. It was a small liberal arts Catholic university. No Carnegie Mellon or Northwestern or UCLA or NYU would let you do that. Yes, maybe the training might have been more advanced, but how much do you really retain of that. And it was nice to have a broad education to help you figure out what you really want to do.
It made me the artist I am today. So thank you Barbara, Fred, Jerry, David, Carolyn, Fran, Erik, Peter and Barbara. I owe you my life.
Thankfully, I held it together. Some things that all of us had in common were that we were all in relationships with people who were also in our line of work, we felt that our training at Santa Clara prepared us well, and we were all happy to go back to SCU to share our experiences.
The students had good questions. Some of the guys were smoking hot. I was hoping to be more of a "mentor" to some of the jockier looking ones. Hee, hee...
But it was great. Really gratifying and really got me back in the mindset of maybe doing some teaching. It was nice to know that my experiences could be helpful. And seriously, talking to my professors really reminded me of the type of student I was: hopeful, enthusiastic and a total character.
It was also nice to know that they still thought of me all these years later. I was just a dude that really wanted to dance and write and SCU allowed me that freedom to make mistakes, which is the point that all of us panelists made to the students. Go and experiment and do and try. That's probably the best thing that my education gave me. It was a small liberal arts Catholic university. No Carnegie Mellon or Northwestern or UCLA or NYU would let you do that. Yes, maybe the training might have been more advanced, but how much do you really retain of that. And it was nice to have a broad education to help you figure out what you really want to do.
It made me the artist I am today. So thank you Barbara, Fred, Jerry, David, Carolyn, Fran, Erik, Peter and Barbara. I owe you my life.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Being Human, Chapter One
I just recently went back to my alma mater, Santa Clara University, to speak to their students in a panel conversation called "Business of the Business." The talk is designed to help students understand what their lives could possibly be like after they graduate. There were alums going all the way back to 1981 and in various fields of study: dance, acting, costumes, tech and writing (that's me).
The panel conversation was the least interesting part of my trip, although it was great to talk to students and hear about their experiences as undergrads and compare that to my own a bit. But the real entertaining and enlightening part of my trip was seeing my professors again. These people shaped my life and set me on a course that I'm still on. I would have been a writer without them, but I'm a much better, fully realized artist because of them.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for them, but I've got to say that getting to know them as human beings and not just these icons of my personal educational experience was enlightening. I realize that they're people just like me, who are trying to fulfill themselves creatively and sustain that over a period of 20, 30, 40 even 50 years. It's pretty remarkable.
I had dinner with a bunch of the faculty from the theatre department (where I was actually NOT a theatre major, but a theatre and dance double minor), but I had made it a point to reach out individually to my two dance professors: David and Carolyn. I didn't even make the connection, until Carolyn dropped me off at my hotel on Friday night, that it was important to me to connect with them. I love my theatre professors, but David and Carolyn really nurtured me in the act of creating original work, which you could only do at the time in the dance department. As a course of study that is. You could write a play whenever you wanted, but most of the theatre students were concerned with performing already created texts--dead authors and the like.
David and I sat down and had a beer together. Very manly for two guys who spent hours and hours in tights and unitards. I heard about his family and the struggle to make more time for them. I listened to him tell me about how his body had changed over time. He went back to school in the time since I graduated. He now has tenure. He's still creating dances and performing his own work as well. Our conversation had an ease and a lightness that it had always had. I always teased David because we had that sort of familarity - taking things seriously, but not so seriously that you can't laugh at yourself and the absurdity of the act of creation. In that absurdity, I believe we also always found the grace in it as well. I was once described by a friend as "irreverently reverent" and I think that applies here. It was so great to see him again and share stories about what we're creating. I didn't feel like his student anymore, but more like a peer. That was a revelation.
The panel conversation was the least interesting part of my trip, although it was great to talk to students and hear about their experiences as undergrads and compare that to my own a bit. But the real entertaining and enlightening part of my trip was seeing my professors again. These people shaped my life and set me on a course that I'm still on. I would have been a writer without them, but I'm a much better, fully realized artist because of them.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for them, but I've got to say that getting to know them as human beings and not just these icons of my personal educational experience was enlightening. I realize that they're people just like me, who are trying to fulfill themselves creatively and sustain that over a period of 20, 30, 40 even 50 years. It's pretty remarkable.
I had dinner with a bunch of the faculty from the theatre department (where I was actually NOT a theatre major, but a theatre and dance double minor), but I had made it a point to reach out individually to my two dance professors: David and Carolyn. I didn't even make the connection, until Carolyn dropped me off at my hotel on Friday night, that it was important to me to connect with them. I love my theatre professors, but David and Carolyn really nurtured me in the act of creating original work, which you could only do at the time in the dance department. As a course of study that is. You could write a play whenever you wanted, but most of the theatre students were concerned with performing already created texts--dead authors and the like.
David and I sat down and had a beer together. Very manly for two guys who spent hours and hours in tights and unitards. I heard about his family and the struggle to make more time for them. I listened to him tell me about how his body had changed over time. He went back to school in the time since I graduated. He now has tenure. He's still creating dances and performing his own work as well. Our conversation had an ease and a lightness that it had always had. I always teased David because we had that sort of familarity - taking things seriously, but not so seriously that you can't laugh at yourself and the absurdity of the act of creation. In that absurdity, I believe we also always found the grace in it as well. I was once described by a friend as "irreverently reverent" and I think that applies here. It was so great to see him again and share stories about what we're creating. I didn't feel like his student anymore, but more like a peer. That was a revelation.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Saw Medea last night
Wes and I are trying to do more cultural things around town. We tired of hearing the same old mantra that there's no culture in LA. Mainly from ourselves. There is and you just might have to go to Pasadena or Echo Park or Boyle Heights or San Pedro or Laguna. Sorry, folks.
Well, we went to see MEDEA starring Annette Bening at UCLA Live last night. UCLA LIVE is kind of great because it's the LA version of BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music). Experimental, provocative, theatre, dance and music. It's got a lot of shit going on. And there were a few celebs in the audience last night, which is always nice. I was sitting between my boyfriend and Zachary Quinto, the guy from Heroes and Star Trek. I met him once before he was famous and he read a few pages from a play of mine and had something very sweet to say about my writing afterwards. Wes told me I should have said something to him, but it was over four years ago and I doubt he'd remember.
Anyway back to the show. I appreciate the fact that UCLA Live produced it themselves and that it was thinking outside the box, but I think the problem was conceptual. Wes liked Annette Bening less than I did. I didn't enjoy her performance, but I think it had less to do with her and more to do with the director's conception of the character of Medea, who's a woman who is wronged and kills her own children (in a nutshell). I had the good fortune of seeing Fiona Shaw at BAM years ago and the image of blood splattering on a lucite wall as she's killing her children will never leave my mind. It was theatrical and exciting and bold. All things that this production wasn't really. They tried to make Medea sort of nice so you felt for her when you realized that she was going to kill her kids. You don't need to do that with this character. The force of her fury should be explanation enough for doing something so wrong. And it's actually not even all that wrong, it's just highly debatable in the context of the play. But that's the fun of the play--I guess if you consider deceit, murdering kids and going on a rampage fun. And I do.
This isn't the Susan Smith story. It's Medea. And when it is done right, that bitch really kicks ass.
Well, we went to see MEDEA starring Annette Bening at UCLA Live last night. UCLA LIVE is kind of great because it's the LA version of BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music). Experimental, provocative, theatre, dance and music. It's got a lot of shit going on. And there were a few celebs in the audience last night, which is always nice. I was sitting between my boyfriend and Zachary Quinto, the guy from Heroes and Star Trek. I met him once before he was famous and he read a few pages from a play of mine and had something very sweet to say about my writing afterwards. Wes told me I should have said something to him, but it was over four years ago and I doubt he'd remember.
Anyway back to the show. I appreciate the fact that UCLA Live produced it themselves and that it was thinking outside the box, but I think the problem was conceptual. Wes liked Annette Bening less than I did. I didn't enjoy her performance, but I think it had less to do with her and more to do with the director's conception of the character of Medea, who's a woman who is wronged and kills her own children (in a nutshell). I had the good fortune of seeing Fiona Shaw at BAM years ago and the image of blood splattering on a lucite wall as she's killing her children will never leave my mind. It was theatrical and exciting and bold. All things that this production wasn't really. They tried to make Medea sort of nice so you felt for her when you realized that she was going to kill her kids. You don't need to do that with this character. The force of her fury should be explanation enough for doing something so wrong. And it's actually not even all that wrong, it's just highly debatable in the context of the play. But that's the fun of the play--I guess if you consider deceit, murdering kids and going on a rampage fun. And I do.
This isn't the Susan Smith story. It's Medea. And when it is done right, that bitch really kicks ass.
Friday, October 2, 2009
One more naked yoga story...
I'm just tryin' to catch ya all up.
When I went to my first yoga class, there was a guest teacher, "Joe", who happened to also be the cute guy with the shaved balls and the trimmed pubes in Sunday's class. And I liked the idea of doing a class midweek when I really needed the clarity.
A quick real note about the HNY: I'm really loving it. It is spiritual and it allows me to find my center. The thing about being naked is that I don't have to think about what I'm wearing and I can just be. And when I can just focus inward, listen to the sound of my yogi's voice and just be...I feel the most in touch with myself (no pun intended) that I have all week. The stories are just my entertaining ways of sharing the twisted things that occur to me.
So I get there and this time there's a little more light in the room. I rush in because I'm running late, I slap my 20 bucks on the counter and introduce myself to the teacher, who I'll call Gene. Gene is hot, y'all. He must be in his 40s somewhere and he's lean, muscular and he's got a big one. Just in case you were wondering. Most of my friends usually ask the question within the first 10 seconds of me telling them I'm doing Nude Yoga: "Are there lots of big dicks in class?"
And, by the way, I walked in and felt like I stumbled into Algebra class when I was supposed to be in Geometry because it was definitely the "show-ers" group, if you know what I mean. As in, I'm a grower not a shower (which in fact I am). So I just laid back and enjoyed and started my practice.
I don't know about you, but I usually expect my yogi to have a pretty soothing voice with a bit of a New Agey twang to it. Joe's voice was authoratative but soft. The yoga teacher on Sunday's voice was very reassuring and positive. This guy was straight up from Williamsburg and not the Williamsburg of today, but the Williamsburg of Barbra Streisand and Joy Behar. The Williamsburg of poor old school Italians and Jews. In other words, he spoke classic Brooklynese. Maybe instead of calling him Gene, I should call him Johnny Knuckles, because he walked like a bit of a street thug as well. A street thug with impeccable posture.
"All right, yous guys. We're gonna do da downwahd dawg."
Oh my God, he's Tony Danza. He's getting a new alias.
So Danza's instructing and swinging about..."Please adjust me", I keep thinking. And he does. But I don't think he's enjoying it.
Thankfully the music's soft and soothing, but it's not like Yanni muzak played with a pan flute.
"Do ya know who dis is?" Okay, the Tony Manero shoulder shrug was a bit much. "Come on, yous! Dis probably came out before you wa born! It's Fleetwood Mac, but before Lindsey and Stevie joined. The first album. 1969."
Is this yoga? Fleetwood Mac trivia? Brooklynese?
I open my eyes. I see his schlong in front of me. Yep, it's yoga.
Besides the entertainment value, it was actually a great class. We stretched a lot and it seemed to flow. This dude wasn't messing around. He did a refresher on sun salutations for the new guys...boom boom boom. This class wasn't necessarily for the advanced guy, but it was definitely for the experienced one. I was sweating and not really thinking about how overworked I felt or how stressed out I've been. I forgot all about that and just focused in on the sound of Danza's voice. Guiding me through my Warrior poses, my flows, my Yoga abs and my balance postures.
It's kind of like all of your cravings all at once. A chicken hard shell taco and Peppermint ice cream and pepperoni pizza and french fries all as one spectacular oddly satisfying meal that doesn't seem to go together. Such is the Brooklyn yogi, the Fleetwood Mac, the muscular wirey bodied students, the clarity and simplicity of yoga and nudity.
Great tastes that don't seem to go together, but are great together.
I think I found my class.
When I went to my first yoga class, there was a guest teacher, "Joe", who happened to also be the cute guy with the shaved balls and the trimmed pubes in Sunday's class. And I liked the idea of doing a class midweek when I really needed the clarity.
A quick real note about the HNY: I'm really loving it. It is spiritual and it allows me to find my center. The thing about being naked is that I don't have to think about what I'm wearing and I can just be. And when I can just focus inward, listen to the sound of my yogi's voice and just be...I feel the most in touch with myself (no pun intended) that I have all week. The stories are just my entertaining ways of sharing the twisted things that occur to me.
So I get there and this time there's a little more light in the room. I rush in because I'm running late, I slap my 20 bucks on the counter and introduce myself to the teacher, who I'll call Gene. Gene is hot, y'all. He must be in his 40s somewhere and he's lean, muscular and he's got a big one. Just in case you were wondering. Most of my friends usually ask the question within the first 10 seconds of me telling them I'm doing Nude Yoga: "Are there lots of big dicks in class?"
And, by the way, I walked in and felt like I stumbled into Algebra class when I was supposed to be in Geometry because it was definitely the "show-ers" group, if you know what I mean. As in, I'm a grower not a shower (which in fact I am). So I just laid back and enjoyed and started my practice.
I don't know about you, but I usually expect my yogi to have a pretty soothing voice with a bit of a New Agey twang to it. Joe's voice was authoratative but soft. The yoga teacher on Sunday's voice was very reassuring and positive. This guy was straight up from Williamsburg and not the Williamsburg of today, but the Williamsburg of Barbra Streisand and Joy Behar. The Williamsburg of poor old school Italians and Jews. In other words, he spoke classic Brooklynese. Maybe instead of calling him Gene, I should call him Johnny Knuckles, because he walked like a bit of a street thug as well. A street thug with impeccable posture.
"All right, yous guys. We're gonna do da downwahd dawg."
Oh my God, he's Tony Danza. He's getting a new alias.
So Danza's instructing and swinging about..."Please adjust me", I keep thinking. And he does. But I don't think he's enjoying it.
Thankfully the music's soft and soothing, but it's not like Yanni muzak played with a pan flute.
"Do ya know who dis is?" Okay, the Tony Manero shoulder shrug was a bit much. "Come on, yous! Dis probably came out before you wa born! It's Fleetwood Mac, but before Lindsey and Stevie joined. The first album. 1969."
Is this yoga? Fleetwood Mac trivia? Brooklynese?
I open my eyes. I see his schlong in front of me. Yep, it's yoga.
Besides the entertainment value, it was actually a great class. We stretched a lot and it seemed to flow. This dude wasn't messing around. He did a refresher on sun salutations for the new guys...boom boom boom. This class wasn't necessarily for the advanced guy, but it was definitely for the experienced one. I was sweating and not really thinking about how overworked I felt or how stressed out I've been. I forgot all about that and just focused in on the sound of Danza's voice. Guiding me through my Warrior poses, my flows, my Yoga abs and my balance postures.
It's kind of like all of your cravings all at once. A chicken hard shell taco and Peppermint ice cream and pepperoni pizza and french fries all as one spectacular oddly satisfying meal that doesn't seem to go together. Such is the Brooklyn yogi, the Fleetwood Mac, the muscular wirey bodied students, the clarity and simplicity of yoga and nudity.
Great tastes that don't seem to go together, but are great together.
I think I found my class.
A Different View on Sunday
So remember how I shared my Hot Nude Yoga experience (if you don't, go back to the post called "Boner Free" and catch up)?
Well, I decided that maybe it wasn't something I was just going to do once to blog about. Maybe I'd try it again and see how things look in the daylight.
And the truth is that they look old.
I guess it's a different crowd who didn't go out last night, meth out and wake up next to someone strange who they feel deeply ashamed about, but don't want to be impolite and kick them out of bed. So the whores and drunks are still asleep at 10 AM on a Sunday while the coupled ones and the fogies are wide awake, well into their second cup of coffee and maybe even back from church at this point.
Well, we all migrated to the Nude Yoga house and stripped down. And even though I'm not making much out of it, I must say that I took off my pants and started to get a boner. This was strange. It didn't happen on Wednesday, with all the hot guys with the muscled asses and the candlelight and the incense. Do I have strange tastes? Am I just looking for a hot daddy or even a non-hot, but reliable one? Well, as soon as all of these questions creeped in my head, they feel back out when I started my practice.
My yoga teacher got things going with hellos all around. We hugged, we smiled--there was way more interaction this time around.
And by interaction, I mean touching and adjusting and realigning. And while it's nice to be touched and have certain body parts grazed, it reminded me of my college dance classes when the professor would come up to me and tell me that my hips weren't square and I wasn't holding my stomach in or that my alignment was off, or he'd just look at me and say:
"There is a whole lot going wrong here."
Then he shook his head--not my college professor, but my current yoga teacher, who happens to be kind of well known for this sort of thing. It was one thing when he made us all put our hands up against the wall and press with our arms spread out. It was like getting searched by a cop. And that was hot as he stood behind me adjusting me. But then it got into familiar territory and there I was again, the kid who needed to be adjusted, toes in, arms tight, face forward. He manhandled me, but only to correct, not caress.
Who knew Hot Nude Yoga was going to bring some of my college aged insecurities back? But I just stared in front of me at the guys shaved balls and trimmed pubes. He smiled. I smiled. Then the teacher came over and fixed me again. And the guy in front smiled even bigger. Not a smile of serenity. But a smile of relief. A smile of "thank God it's you, not me. I know what I'm doing."
Well, that's not very Yoga like. But that's West Hollywood!
I just focused on my breathing, did my best and let him come by and adjust me if he needed to. What the hell? At least I'm getting my $20 worth.
Well, I decided that maybe it wasn't something I was just going to do once to blog about. Maybe I'd try it again and see how things look in the daylight.
And the truth is that they look old.
I guess it's a different crowd who didn't go out last night, meth out and wake up next to someone strange who they feel deeply ashamed about, but don't want to be impolite and kick them out of bed. So the whores and drunks are still asleep at 10 AM on a Sunday while the coupled ones and the fogies are wide awake, well into their second cup of coffee and maybe even back from church at this point.
Well, we all migrated to the Nude Yoga house and stripped down. And even though I'm not making much out of it, I must say that I took off my pants and started to get a boner. This was strange. It didn't happen on Wednesday, with all the hot guys with the muscled asses and the candlelight and the incense. Do I have strange tastes? Am I just looking for a hot daddy or even a non-hot, but reliable one? Well, as soon as all of these questions creeped in my head, they feel back out when I started my practice.
My yoga teacher got things going with hellos all around. We hugged, we smiled--there was way more interaction this time around.
And by interaction, I mean touching and adjusting and realigning. And while it's nice to be touched and have certain body parts grazed, it reminded me of my college dance classes when the professor would come up to me and tell me that my hips weren't square and I wasn't holding my stomach in or that my alignment was off, or he'd just look at me and say:
"There is a whole lot going wrong here."
Then he shook his head--not my college professor, but my current yoga teacher, who happens to be kind of well known for this sort of thing. It was one thing when he made us all put our hands up against the wall and press with our arms spread out. It was like getting searched by a cop. And that was hot as he stood behind me adjusting me. But then it got into familiar territory and there I was again, the kid who needed to be adjusted, toes in, arms tight, face forward. He manhandled me, but only to correct, not caress.
Who knew Hot Nude Yoga was going to bring some of my college aged insecurities back? But I just stared in front of me at the guys shaved balls and trimmed pubes. He smiled. I smiled. Then the teacher came over and fixed me again. And the guy in front smiled even bigger. Not a smile of serenity. But a smile of relief. A smile of "thank God it's you, not me. I know what I'm doing."
Well, that's not very Yoga like. But that's West Hollywood!
I just focused on my breathing, did my best and let him come by and adjust me if he needed to. What the hell? At least I'm getting my $20 worth.
Taco Fridays
It's Friday night and what am I doing? I am sitting at home, writing in my blog, watching Wendy Williams on the DVR (How you doin'?) and eating hard shell turkey tacos, inspired by my friend Roberto Martin who was on the Ellen show this week making vegan tacos. He's Ellen's personal chef and we grew up together in Downey, CA back when I was the school fag and he was Bobby Martin.
It seems like life has been going incredibly fast lately, so I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on my blog. I've got lots to write about.
My boyfriend Wes and I have this thing about Fridays. It's the same thing that most people have about New Years Eve. We like to stay in or do something low key because Fridays never turn out the way yout think they're going to. I work in an entertainment office, so at about 5:15 the panic begins. It's the "oh shit, I whole week went by and I forgot to do A, B, & C" feeling. It'd be nice if once I could just slide into a Friday, but it never seems to work that way. And Wes runs an agency, so it's never easy for him on a Friday either.
We tried to make plans with friends on a Friday, but it's usually people who have more open schedules, so we're trying to make it crosstown, stop over at the house to take the dogs to poop and feed them so we don't come home from a fabulous night out to the smell of dog shit everywhere and our dogs all muddied and disgusting. And the events or dinners are always at 7 because there are people in this world who actually can start their weekend early. SO by the time we meet up at home and I take the dogs out and we get dressed and out the door, we're late. And because Wes rushes in and needs me to be dressed and ready to go, I feel pressured and then we end up being pissed at each other for the first part of the evening.
So our new routine is that we stay at the office until we need to leave. I'm usually done before he is. Then I come home and take care of the dogs. If he's still not home, I end up making dinner for myself. Usually something that's a guilty pleasure. Like a hot dog. Or tostadas. Tonight, it was turkey meat tacos. But since we've been running ourselves ragged all week with drinks and business meetings, the fridge was empty. So I decided to go supermarket shopping on a Friday.
I suppose I'd feel strange if I was single. But it's kind of nice to be at the local Pavillions where I can shop leisurly in my grey sweatpants, no undies and a big hoodie. Well, it's nice until I run into someone I know and wish I had spent 30 minutes getting my casual look together instead of actually walking out the door in an actual casual look. I see my friend...let's call him Giles from a certain support group I used to attend. He's very talkative, so it's like having my own live podcast to listen to while I'm shopping. I'm happy to listen, Giles is happy to talk.
Eventually, Giles and I part ways and I'm left alone once again to put all the things I don't need in my shopping cart like Entemann's coffee cake and Peppermint ice cream. I walk out of the parking lot and see that my Ralphs circular is in my car and tomatoes on the vine are on sale for 88 cents a pound. So since I'm having so much fun and my boyfriend hasn't texted me, I'm off to Ralphs. Or as Wes and I like to call it "Hellphs." Hellphs is Hellphs because it borders Beverly Hills and the parking lot is tiny and the old ladies who go there are slow and mean. I get a bunch of produce that's on sale and I fill up my bag full of lettuce, tomatoes, green onions, regular onions, garlic and Root Beer for $6.50. It's a bargain, so I head home.
Tacos are made. Tacos are eaten. Root beer is guzzled and here I am with Wendy on pause as I start to slow down. It's been a busy week. I've done a lot. I've thought about a lot and I think I've got a reflection filled weekend ahead.
Maybe I'll have one more taco before I start reflecting.
It seems like life has been going incredibly fast lately, so I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on my blog. I've got lots to write about.
My boyfriend Wes and I have this thing about Fridays. It's the same thing that most people have about New Years Eve. We like to stay in or do something low key because Fridays never turn out the way yout think they're going to. I work in an entertainment office, so at about 5:15 the panic begins. It's the "oh shit, I whole week went by and I forgot to do A, B, & C" feeling. It'd be nice if once I could just slide into a Friday, but it never seems to work that way. And Wes runs an agency, so it's never easy for him on a Friday either.
We tried to make plans with friends on a Friday, but it's usually people who have more open schedules, so we're trying to make it crosstown, stop over at the house to take the dogs to poop and feed them so we don't come home from a fabulous night out to the smell of dog shit everywhere and our dogs all muddied and disgusting. And the events or dinners are always at 7 because there are people in this world who actually can start their weekend early. SO by the time we meet up at home and I take the dogs out and we get dressed and out the door, we're late. And because Wes rushes in and needs me to be dressed and ready to go, I feel pressured and then we end up being pissed at each other for the first part of the evening.
So our new routine is that we stay at the office until we need to leave. I'm usually done before he is. Then I come home and take care of the dogs. If he's still not home, I end up making dinner for myself. Usually something that's a guilty pleasure. Like a hot dog. Or tostadas. Tonight, it was turkey meat tacos. But since we've been running ourselves ragged all week with drinks and business meetings, the fridge was empty. So I decided to go supermarket shopping on a Friday.
I suppose I'd feel strange if I was single. But it's kind of nice to be at the local Pavillions where I can shop leisurly in my grey sweatpants, no undies and a big hoodie. Well, it's nice until I run into someone I know and wish I had spent 30 minutes getting my casual look together instead of actually walking out the door in an actual casual look. I see my friend...let's call him Giles from a certain support group I used to attend. He's very talkative, so it's like having my own live podcast to listen to while I'm shopping. I'm happy to listen, Giles is happy to talk.
Eventually, Giles and I part ways and I'm left alone once again to put all the things I don't need in my shopping cart like Entemann's coffee cake and Peppermint ice cream. I walk out of the parking lot and see that my Ralphs circular is in my car and tomatoes on the vine are on sale for 88 cents a pound. So since I'm having so much fun and my boyfriend hasn't texted me, I'm off to Ralphs. Or as Wes and I like to call it "Hellphs." Hellphs is Hellphs because it borders Beverly Hills and the parking lot is tiny and the old ladies who go there are slow and mean. I get a bunch of produce that's on sale and I fill up my bag full of lettuce, tomatoes, green onions, regular onions, garlic and Root Beer for $6.50. It's a bargain, so I head home.
Tacos are made. Tacos are eaten. Root beer is guzzled and here I am with Wendy on pause as I start to slow down. It's been a busy week. I've done a lot. I've thought about a lot and I think I've got a reflection filled weekend ahead.
Maybe I'll have one more taco before I start reflecting.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Case for Seventies Streisand
In the great gay debate, there's always the question:
Are you a Liza, a Bette, a Madonna or a Barbra? (Sorry, I'm not of the generation that asks if I'm a Britney or a Gaga - not that I'm old) Okay, so my generation might ask more if I'm a Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or Charlotte. And that naturally is paired with the colors conversation (are you an Autumn, Winter, Spring or Summer).
To clear it up, I'm a Summer Carrie and I don't really play favorites with my Gay Icons. But I do have a special affinity for Barbra in the 70s, her pop period, which I really consider 1969-1984 (everything that leads up to The Broadway Album). Although the great stuff happened in the 1970s. And I'm not counting Guilty in 1980 because that it was her best selling album to date and not considered a lost classic.
Here's a list of songs from the great Streisand Pop Era - check them out in their 30 second clips on iTunes:
Queen Bee - from A Star is Born ("Welcome, please...the Oreos!)
Space Captain - from Barbra Joan Streisand (yes, the Joe Cocker song)
Life on Mars - from Butterfly (yes , Bowie song - and genius!)
Sweet Inspiration - from Live Concert at the Forum - she gets all Gospel
Look What They've Done to my Song, Ma - from Barbra Streisand and other Instruments - the special at least, not sure if it's on an album
Punky's Dilemna - from What About Today? ("Wish I was a Kellogg's Corn Flake...")
Time Machine - from Emotion (written by Earth, Wind and Fire, also featured on KIDS INCORPORATED)
Emotion - from Emotion - the video and documentary about the making of the video is genius. She basically went from Yentl to this.
It's classic because it so epitomizes so many wrong things about the 70s - it's when a lot of famous old time acts tried to get hip and the era was full of so many wacky ideas that it really was like the Devil's playground in term of guilty pleasures. Amazing. The collision of culture...what a wreck! A deliriously wonderful wreck!
Are you a Liza, a Bette, a Madonna or a Barbra? (Sorry, I'm not of the generation that asks if I'm a Britney or a Gaga - not that I'm old) Okay, so my generation might ask more if I'm a Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or Charlotte. And that naturally is paired with the colors conversation (are you an Autumn, Winter, Spring or Summer).
To clear it up, I'm a Summer Carrie and I don't really play favorites with my Gay Icons. But I do have a special affinity for Barbra in the 70s, her pop period, which I really consider 1969-1984 (everything that leads up to The Broadway Album). Although the great stuff happened in the 1970s. And I'm not counting Guilty in 1980 because that it was her best selling album to date and not considered a lost classic.
Here's a list of songs from the great Streisand Pop Era - check them out in their 30 second clips on iTunes:
Queen Bee - from A Star is Born ("Welcome, please...the Oreos!)
Space Captain - from Barbra Joan Streisand (yes, the Joe Cocker song)
Life on Mars - from Butterfly (yes , Bowie song - and genius!)
Sweet Inspiration - from Live Concert at the Forum - she gets all Gospel
Look What They've Done to my Song, Ma - from Barbra Streisand and other Instruments - the special at least, not sure if it's on an album
Punky's Dilemna - from What About Today? ("Wish I was a Kellogg's Corn Flake...")
Time Machine - from Emotion (written by Earth, Wind and Fire, also featured on KIDS INCORPORATED)
Emotion - from Emotion - the video and documentary about the making of the video is genius. She basically went from Yentl to this.
It's classic because it so epitomizes so many wrong things about the 70s - it's when a lot of famous old time acts tried to get hip and the era was full of so many wacky ideas that it really was like the Devil's playground in term of guilty pleasures. Amazing. The collision of culture...what a wreck! A deliriously wonderful wreck!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Boner Free
Some things you do just so you can blog about them...
Tonight I did something I had considered several times, but didn't think I had the guts to do. And that is HOT NUDE YOGA.
Wes has the DVDs - Beginner, Strength, Partner and Tantra. And I've watched them many times. Hell, sometimes I've even exercised. Aaron Star is the guy who created this whole concept and from the DVDs you feel like there's this whole community of naturalist, non-lookist gay men who have come together for a sense of community and belonging. So they happen to be naked! Who cares? It's about the bond that comes from men having a shared homosensual experience.
Well, it wasn't exactly that way. This being Los Angeles, there's bound to be a sense of personal space and elitism. I probably had the most percentage body fat of any guy there. The HNY folks have this thing about wanting to be at the same fitness level - it's part of the communial experience thing. That and they can't say, "No fatties! You're disgusting to look at and how can I be calm and at peace with myself if I have to look your gross self!" Hey! I'm in shape. I just finished P90X, got toned, but I didn't stop eating like I like to eat, which is like a real person.
Btw, I just made some bolognese tonight and it looks delish. It's always better the second day, my mother says.
So I walk in there with my cute arms and my boyish good looks and my tummy. I don't mean to over sell it. It's not a gut. But it's soft and adorable and mostly flat. Let's just say it doesn't detract from the outward-first, then inner beauty. It's in this house in this non-descript neighborhood in Hollywood. I manage to find parking and I walk to the front of the house. Nothing. But I can see the flicker of candle light, so I head around the back where the back door is wide open.
Very Craig's List.
So I walk inside and see a bunch of naked dudes in minimal lighting walking around. In Aaron's videos, the group laughs and strips down and laughs some more. Then they do a big group hug, some of them are turned on and they start their yoga practice with hard-ons.
But this is HNY LA, so there are no hugs. The guys who all know each other keep to themselves and I grab the one spot left in the back corner where I can barely stretch my legs. I feel like Rosa Parks.
I'm a little shocked at myself. I drove all the way over to the class thinking that I was going to get an erection and then I'd have to proudly display it as I did my Warrior One or lunged into Warrior Two. Tree Pose was going to be a bitch with that extra branch throwing off my balance. But I looked down and there was nothing.
And of course I must have been a dead giveaway as the new kid because my neck kept craning. The instructor had a nice one and the guy next to me seemed to have a non-threatening, yet respectable penis of his own. The class begins and my erection free body starts to move.
And sweat. I thought it was called Hot Nude Yoga because they were trying to be titilating. Turns out, there was a very good reason they ask you to bring a towel to lay on your yoga mat. I almost didn't bring one because I didn't see the point. But halfway through, I'm wiping myself down. I've got to say, there's nothing like feeling that bead of sweat head down the small of your back and disappear into your buttcrack. I felt like I National Geographic Special on dew.
Then I look in front of my, through the semi-dark haze to see a familiar face. Aaron Star, founder of HNY was in front of me. Or what seemed like a version of him with a shaved head and a piercing maybe. But then he wasn't doing the poses full out. So then I decided it wasn't him. But he kept smiling at me like he owned the joint and then I thought, "Well, maybe he doesn't want to show off."
I'm doing my Child's Pose and my Downward Dog and my sequences, waiting for the moment when the instructor asks us all to come together and lay on top of each other or awaken the chakras in our respective taints. But that moment never arrived. I might have had a heart attack. The closest I came was Dolphin Pose.
So the instructor counts all of us in the room and it seemed like I was the only one without a partner. Everyone had someone in front of them but me. But then I thought that maybe the instructor would be my partner and even that thought didn't produce any arousal. Not even a chubby. The idea behind Dolphin Pose is that you balance on your elbows with your body straight up in the air. And this pose takes THREE people to execute. There's the "dolphin" and the two people creating the cage that keeps the dolphin from falling over. Caged animals. All of a sudden this is starting to feel less freeing and spiritual.
I get with these two guys - one is this cute blonde dude who seems a little hard core. I later find out his name is Todd. And then there is this hot panther (is that what we're calling male cougars now? I can't keep up. I prefer the old school term: Daddy). This guy is tight and six packed and clearly has been practicing yoga for years. Because he can do the frog pose and standing on his head and do all that crazy kama sutra shit.
Sidenote: They tell you not to eat two hours before you get there. I stopped eating about 1:15 minutes before class. And I got a little nervous when I saw Frog Pose, which is basically a squat where you rest your elbows on your inner thighs. In other words, you're squatting down like a Chinaman in a rice paddy stretching out your asshole. If you had any gas, there was no way it was going to stay inside and incognito. And the room is turned up, so farting in a hot room is a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, I was okay.
So that little group exercise was nice, but then it was back to stretches and balance poses. Then we get to the end where we all have to lie down and shut our eyes. In the DVDs, Aaron comes over and places a hand on your tummy to settle our breathing or he rubs your shoulder or licks your nipple...wait! That might have been a dream I had. Anyways, he's touching you and helping you relax. None of that here. It was very tame. I had managed to doze off a bit, but it was so relaxing. And then class was over.
In the light, I did realize that Aaron Star indeed had taken our class. I felt blessed, but I was confused that he didn't make us do a daisy chain or at least take hold of each other's "root chakras", if you know what I mean.
They don't discourage erections, according to the website. The worst thing that can happen (and the best) is that your erection is a source of inspiration for the group and things start sprouting all over the place. But that's not the point here. The point is to gather with other men, free of the labels that clothes and bags and shoes and cars give us. At that moment, we are all the same. we're all doing the same thing and trying to achieve the same goal.
I decided to go tonight because I am looking to awaken something in me. Not my sexuality, because that's pretty awake. Actually, it's been pulling an all nighter since junior high. I wanted to be in a place that was free from some of the industry Hollywood bullshit. I succeeded. It was liberating to be naked. And to forget about the world for a moment and focus inward. I just finished this pilot and polished up another one and am getting ready to start a MEDEA adaptation and then want to work on another play this year...I needed something. Something that just brought me back to myself. And I love stretching. It was always my favorite part of dance class because it allowed me to focus inward.
So will I go back? I might try another class or two. I'm curious about some of the other workshops. And I'm curious about the guys who come here and why.
But mainly I want to go back because the heat made me really flexible and I want to see how much more flexible I can become. In every way.
Tonight I did something I had considered several times, but didn't think I had the guts to do. And that is HOT NUDE YOGA.
Wes has the DVDs - Beginner, Strength, Partner and Tantra. And I've watched them many times. Hell, sometimes I've even exercised. Aaron Star is the guy who created this whole concept and from the DVDs you feel like there's this whole community of naturalist, non-lookist gay men who have come together for a sense of community and belonging. So they happen to be naked! Who cares? It's about the bond that comes from men having a shared homosensual experience.
Well, it wasn't exactly that way. This being Los Angeles, there's bound to be a sense of personal space and elitism. I probably had the most percentage body fat of any guy there. The HNY folks have this thing about wanting to be at the same fitness level - it's part of the communial experience thing. That and they can't say, "No fatties! You're disgusting to look at and how can I be calm and at peace with myself if I have to look your gross self!" Hey! I'm in shape. I just finished P90X, got toned, but I didn't stop eating like I like to eat, which is like a real person.
Btw, I just made some bolognese tonight and it looks delish. It's always better the second day, my mother says.
So I walk in there with my cute arms and my boyish good looks and my tummy. I don't mean to over sell it. It's not a gut. But it's soft and adorable and mostly flat. Let's just say it doesn't detract from the outward-first, then inner beauty. It's in this house in this non-descript neighborhood in Hollywood. I manage to find parking and I walk to the front of the house. Nothing. But I can see the flicker of candle light, so I head around the back where the back door is wide open.
Very Craig's List.
So I walk inside and see a bunch of naked dudes in minimal lighting walking around. In Aaron's videos, the group laughs and strips down and laughs some more. Then they do a big group hug, some of them are turned on and they start their yoga practice with hard-ons.
But this is HNY LA, so there are no hugs. The guys who all know each other keep to themselves and I grab the one spot left in the back corner where I can barely stretch my legs. I feel like Rosa Parks.
I'm a little shocked at myself. I drove all the way over to the class thinking that I was going to get an erection and then I'd have to proudly display it as I did my Warrior One or lunged into Warrior Two. Tree Pose was going to be a bitch with that extra branch throwing off my balance. But I looked down and there was nothing.
And of course I must have been a dead giveaway as the new kid because my neck kept craning. The instructor had a nice one and the guy next to me seemed to have a non-threatening, yet respectable penis of his own. The class begins and my erection free body starts to move.
And sweat. I thought it was called Hot Nude Yoga because they were trying to be titilating. Turns out, there was a very good reason they ask you to bring a towel to lay on your yoga mat. I almost didn't bring one because I didn't see the point. But halfway through, I'm wiping myself down. I've got to say, there's nothing like feeling that bead of sweat head down the small of your back and disappear into your buttcrack. I felt like I National Geographic Special on dew.
Then I look in front of my, through the semi-dark haze to see a familiar face. Aaron Star, founder of HNY was in front of me. Or what seemed like a version of him with a shaved head and a piercing maybe. But then he wasn't doing the poses full out. So then I decided it wasn't him. But he kept smiling at me like he owned the joint and then I thought, "Well, maybe he doesn't want to show off."
I'm doing my Child's Pose and my Downward Dog and my sequences, waiting for the moment when the instructor asks us all to come together and lay on top of each other or awaken the chakras in our respective taints. But that moment never arrived. I might have had a heart attack. The closest I came was Dolphin Pose.
So the instructor counts all of us in the room and it seemed like I was the only one without a partner. Everyone had someone in front of them but me. But then I thought that maybe the instructor would be my partner and even that thought didn't produce any arousal. Not even a chubby. The idea behind Dolphin Pose is that you balance on your elbows with your body straight up in the air. And this pose takes THREE people to execute. There's the "dolphin" and the two people creating the cage that keeps the dolphin from falling over. Caged animals. All of a sudden this is starting to feel less freeing and spiritual.
I get with these two guys - one is this cute blonde dude who seems a little hard core. I later find out his name is Todd. And then there is this hot panther (is that what we're calling male cougars now? I can't keep up. I prefer the old school term: Daddy). This guy is tight and six packed and clearly has been practicing yoga for years. Because he can do the frog pose and standing on his head and do all that crazy kama sutra shit.
Sidenote: They tell you not to eat two hours before you get there. I stopped eating about 1:15 minutes before class. And I got a little nervous when I saw Frog Pose, which is basically a squat where you rest your elbows on your inner thighs. In other words, you're squatting down like a Chinaman in a rice paddy stretching out your asshole. If you had any gas, there was no way it was going to stay inside and incognito. And the room is turned up, so farting in a hot room is a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, I was okay.
So that little group exercise was nice, but then it was back to stretches and balance poses. Then we get to the end where we all have to lie down and shut our eyes. In the DVDs, Aaron comes over and places a hand on your tummy to settle our breathing or he rubs your shoulder or licks your nipple...wait! That might have been a dream I had. Anyways, he's touching you and helping you relax. None of that here. It was very tame. I had managed to doze off a bit, but it was so relaxing. And then class was over.
In the light, I did realize that Aaron Star indeed had taken our class. I felt blessed, but I was confused that he didn't make us do a daisy chain or at least take hold of each other's "root chakras", if you know what I mean.
They don't discourage erections, according to the website. The worst thing that can happen (and the best) is that your erection is a source of inspiration for the group and things start sprouting all over the place. But that's not the point here. The point is to gather with other men, free of the labels that clothes and bags and shoes and cars give us. At that moment, we are all the same. we're all doing the same thing and trying to achieve the same goal.
I decided to go tonight because I am looking to awaken something in me. Not my sexuality, because that's pretty awake. Actually, it's been pulling an all nighter since junior high. I wanted to be in a place that was free from some of the industry Hollywood bullshit. I succeeded. It was liberating to be naked. And to forget about the world for a moment and focus inward. I just finished this pilot and polished up another one and am getting ready to start a MEDEA adaptation and then want to work on another play this year...I needed something. Something that just brought me back to myself. And I love stretching. It was always my favorite part of dance class because it allowed me to focus inward.
So will I go back? I might try another class or two. I'm curious about some of the other workshops. And I'm curious about the guys who come here and why.
But mainly I want to go back because the heat made me really flexible and I want to see how much more flexible I can become. In every way.
Meat Fingers
I went to the supermarket last night--the Pavillions that just reopened on Santa Monica Blvd in West Hollywood. It used to be the friendliest one in town. Now it's just the biggest and just slightly kind.
I went because there was Tree Top Apple Juice on sale. Marked down from $4.45 to $2.99 (new everyday low price) to $0.99. I bought 8 bottles of Tree Top Apple Juice last week. But the best part was the variety. I had my choice of Apple Cider or Apple Berry as well. I went with the traditional, but I liked that there was so much value in that one purchase. And while I was there I picked up $18.99 worth of 80/20 ground beef for $7.00.
I love when I go to the market and I've saved more than I spent. It's kind of my favorite feeling. Other than sex or eating or writing or masturbating or having a good hair day or having a good work out or having a hot shower or having my boyfriend kiss me in the morning. Okay, so it's Top Ten. Maybe.
Now I have to figure out what I should do with all that meat. I've been on a meatloaf and meatball kick lately. I'll probably make some bolognaise because I've got a bunch of basil and tomato puree to use up.
I guess this is the root of my problem. I'm trying to lose a bit of my paunch. And it's not that big. It's actually not bad at all. But I've been doing P90X and working out and running and doing cardio. But the problem is that I like to eat. So I might never have that six pack. Because I love food. Although I keep seeing my friend Michael Stanwyck's status updates on Facebook about all the shit he eats and his was just featured on KTLA a few mornings ago with the craziest six pack ever.
Maybe I should send Michael an email and title it:
"Teach Me How to Eat Like Shit and Have Killer Abs"
I went because there was Tree Top Apple Juice on sale. Marked down from $4.45 to $2.99 (new everyday low price) to $0.99. I bought 8 bottles of Tree Top Apple Juice last week. But the best part was the variety. I had my choice of Apple Cider or Apple Berry as well. I went with the traditional, but I liked that there was so much value in that one purchase. And while I was there I picked up $18.99 worth of 80/20 ground beef for $7.00.
I love when I go to the market and I've saved more than I spent. It's kind of my favorite feeling. Other than sex or eating or writing or masturbating or having a good hair day or having a good work out or having a hot shower or having my boyfriend kiss me in the morning. Okay, so it's Top Ten. Maybe.
Now I have to figure out what I should do with all that meat. I've been on a meatloaf and meatball kick lately. I'll probably make some bolognaise because I've got a bunch of basil and tomato puree to use up.
I guess this is the root of my problem. I'm trying to lose a bit of my paunch. And it's not that big. It's actually not bad at all. But I've been doing P90X and working out and running and doing cardio. But the problem is that I like to eat. So I might never have that six pack. Because I love food. Although I keep seeing my friend Michael Stanwyck's status updates on Facebook about all the shit he eats and his was just featured on KTLA a few mornings ago with the craziest six pack ever.
Maybe I should send Michael an email and title it:
"Teach Me How to Eat Like Shit and Have Killer Abs"
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Homemade Ketchup
It's been a while since a shared a favorite recipe and here's one that's easy and way better than buying the Heinz:
Saute a medium diced onion and as many minced garlic cloves as you personally like in some olive oil until the onion is translucent. Then add some grated ginger, a seeded habanero or jalapeno finely minced, and some chopped up cilantro (about 1/4 cup, you can also sub in or mix with basil). Add 1 cup of vinegar (the recipe I read calls for 1/2 c. red wine and 1/2 c. apple cider - if you only have apple cider use 1 cup of that) and 1/2 c. brown sugar (more if you like a sweeter ketchup up. Let that come to a boil and reduce a bit. Then add one 28 oz can of whole peeled tomatoes or tomato puree (not sauce, too liquidy). Let that simmer and reduce by half, usually about 20-30 minutes. Keep stirring every so often so it doesn't burn.
Then put in a blender until all the chunks are gone. You might want to wait for the mixture to cool down a bit first. Then keep it in a tight container for up to 3 weeks. I've also done it where I've used the puree and chopped everything so fine that I didn't put it in the blender and had a bit of a relish/ketchup. It's good.
It's simple, but impressive to guests when you pull out the homemade ketchup. It's a lot of bang for very little.
Saute a medium diced onion and as many minced garlic cloves as you personally like in some olive oil until the onion is translucent. Then add some grated ginger, a seeded habanero or jalapeno finely minced, and some chopped up cilantro (about 1/4 cup, you can also sub in or mix with basil). Add 1 cup of vinegar (the recipe I read calls for 1/2 c. red wine and 1/2 c. apple cider - if you only have apple cider use 1 cup of that) and 1/2 c. brown sugar (more if you like a sweeter ketchup up. Let that come to a boil and reduce a bit. Then add one 28 oz can of whole peeled tomatoes or tomato puree (not sauce, too liquidy). Let that simmer and reduce by half, usually about 20-30 minutes. Keep stirring every so often so it doesn't burn.
Then put in a blender until all the chunks are gone. You might want to wait for the mixture to cool down a bit first. Then keep it in a tight container for up to 3 weeks. I've also done it where I've used the puree and chopped everything so fine that I didn't put it in the blender and had a bit of a relish/ketchup. It's good.
It's simple, but impressive to guests when you pull out the homemade ketchup. It's a lot of bang for very little.
Morning Dog Walk: Taking the Time
The dog walk this morning was full of dogs. We see this poodle from time to time - if I walk them at around 7:30 - who they love to play with. The owner and I don't know each other's names. But we know each other through our dogs.
Then there was the cute guy with the gray dog (I wasn't raised a dog person, so I don't know breeds by sight). And the guy who had four dogs he was walking at once. Had never seen either one of them walk in the hood. Maybe I should walk the dogs at 7:30 more often!
Then I thought about this time of morning being the time for everyone to recharge for the day, to think about the day to come. And I felt comforted because at least I'm not alone. For some people, it's the time before they go to bed, when no one is awake. For me, it's the morning. My boyfriend is sleeping upstairs. I pull myself out of bed to take Penny and Franc out. It's our special time together.
So today I have a new character trait to incorporate into someone I'm writing about in a pilot I'm desperately trying to finish. A friend told me to take my time with it. I've already been taking six months (and eight drafts!). It felt like good advice by inapplicable at the time. And now I know what he means. It's about the work, not about chasing approval or trying to get it done for this thing or that thing. It's about making it the best it can be. And I need to get over my fear that it might not be everything I want it or need it to be. And just finish it because the fear is making me take longer than I should.
And today I need to get back on Media Bistro and do some real research on writing articles.
Then there was the cute guy with the gray dog (I wasn't raised a dog person, so I don't know breeds by sight). And the guy who had four dogs he was walking at once. Had never seen either one of them walk in the hood. Maybe I should walk the dogs at 7:30 more often!
Then I thought about this time of morning being the time for everyone to recharge for the day, to think about the day to come. And I felt comforted because at least I'm not alone. For some people, it's the time before they go to bed, when no one is awake. For me, it's the morning. My boyfriend is sleeping upstairs. I pull myself out of bed to take Penny and Franc out. It's our special time together.
So today I have a new character trait to incorporate into someone I'm writing about in a pilot I'm desperately trying to finish. A friend told me to take my time with it. I've already been taking six months (and eight drafts!). It felt like good advice by inapplicable at the time. And now I know what he means. It's about the work, not about chasing approval or trying to get it done for this thing or that thing. It's about making it the best it can be. And I need to get over my fear that it might not be everything I want it or need it to be. And just finish it because the fear is making me take longer than I should.
And today I need to get back on Media Bistro and do some real research on writing articles.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Dim All the Lights
I had a thought after watching the Whitney interview on Oprah yesterday. She made a comment about having to dim her light for Bobby Brown. I guess we've seen what happens when one of the great talents tries to dim her light in order to make someone else feel better. It's self-destructive. It's an obvious sign that it is the wrong thing to do.
Then I thought about the way that I dim my light by not appreciating my gift. When you're 22 and you're fresh out of college you don't really think about those things. I know I was so happy that I had a gift and that I had discovered it. And I used it all of the time - I wrote plays, I choreographed dances, I sang. And all of those things felt like they belonged uniquely to me. Those plays and dances and songs were imperfect. My voice was imperfect, but I expressed it with abandon.
As I've mentioned, I'm speaking to college students from my alma mater, Santa Clara University next month and sharing my experiences. I think the fact that I've been asked to do this has set off a bunch of thoughts in my head. Some of them are about where I'm going in my life. Thankfully, the ones that are saying "What the hell have you been doing?" aren't that loud. I'm a stubborn person, so I've been on a path that I've really committed to, one that I thought was absolutely 100% the right one. And while I've learned from it and I've definitely grown from it, it's time to switch it up a bit and try one of the side roads.
I had a Facebook exchange with a good friend yesterday who said she had been asked to go back to our alma mater to speak to a group of students as well and she gave them the hard line. I think that IS important: the "reality check" conversation. But I don't necessarily want to be Franklin Shepard in "Merrily We Roll Along" talking about compromise.
Yesterday is gone...
But what I do want to say to them is remember why you are uniquely you and make that indispensible. It's something I've tried to do my whole life and some times I've succeeded and some times I've failed. But that has always been the M.O. I think the times I forget that, I don't do as well. And the times I do, I soar.
So optimistic, but firm. That's my tone.
I need to take that tone with MYSELF more often.
Then I thought about the way that I dim my light by not appreciating my gift. When you're 22 and you're fresh out of college you don't really think about those things. I know I was so happy that I had a gift and that I had discovered it. And I used it all of the time - I wrote plays, I choreographed dances, I sang. And all of those things felt like they belonged uniquely to me. Those plays and dances and songs were imperfect. My voice was imperfect, but I expressed it with abandon.
As I've mentioned, I'm speaking to college students from my alma mater, Santa Clara University next month and sharing my experiences. I think the fact that I've been asked to do this has set off a bunch of thoughts in my head. Some of them are about where I'm going in my life. Thankfully, the ones that are saying "What the hell have you been doing?" aren't that loud. I'm a stubborn person, so I've been on a path that I've really committed to, one that I thought was absolutely 100% the right one. And while I've learned from it and I've definitely grown from it, it's time to switch it up a bit and try one of the side roads.
I had a Facebook exchange with a good friend yesterday who said she had been asked to go back to our alma mater to speak to a group of students as well and she gave them the hard line. I think that IS important: the "reality check" conversation. But I don't necessarily want to be Franklin Shepard in "Merrily We Roll Along" talking about compromise.
Yesterday is gone...
But what I do want to say to them is remember why you are uniquely you and make that indispensible. It's something I've tried to do my whole life and some times I've succeeded and some times I've failed. But that has always been the M.O. I think the times I forget that, I don't do as well. And the times I do, I soar.
So optimistic, but firm. That's my tone.
I need to take that tone with MYSELF more often.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Too Busy
Today seems to be whizzing by.
Too busy to update the blog.
Too busy to think about the rest of the new plot points in this pilot.
Not too busy to eat.
Ah...had a hamburger, fries and salad for lunch. Delish.
I love food. In diners.
Too busy to update the blog.
Too busy to think about the rest of the new plot points in this pilot.
Not too busy to eat.
Ah...had a hamburger, fries and salad for lunch. Delish.
I love food. In diners.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Putting It All Out There
My friend Dave once told me that if you really want something, you have to put all of yourself out there in order to reap the most rewards.
And he's a Jesuit Priest. So I trust him.
So today on 9/9/09, I say to the universe, give me all the good fortune that's ready to come my way. I'm ready to have a hit show in New York, a hit show on the air, to be in rehearsals for the next three plays I'm writing as soon as I'm done with them. I'm ready to be the boyfriend of an incredibly satisfied, successful, titan of industry (my current boyfriend, for the record). I'm ready for creativity and financial rewards to abound and be plentiful.
I'm lucky to be inspired by my partner and on 9/9/09, I ask the universe to take it to the next level.
I hope that for everyone I care about.
And he's a Jesuit Priest. So I trust him.
So today on 9/9/09, I say to the universe, give me all the good fortune that's ready to come my way. I'm ready to have a hit show in New York, a hit show on the air, to be in rehearsals for the next three plays I'm writing as soon as I'm done with them. I'm ready to be the boyfriend of an incredibly satisfied, successful, titan of industry (my current boyfriend, for the record). I'm ready for creativity and financial rewards to abound and be plentiful.
I'm lucky to be inspired by my partner and on 9/9/09, I ask the universe to take it to the next level.
I hope that for everyone I care about.
Morning Dog Walk: What About Today?
I was on my morning dog walk with Penny and Franc, our two dogs (I'll post some picture soon). As they were dragging me down the street, I started thinking about today. What am I going to do today to make my life better? I'm committing to doing something productive every day for the rest of the month as a bit of a jump start.
Yesterday, it was starting this blog. And look what that produced! I'm flying up to my alma mater to speak about my experiences:
"Please welcome our guest who has been a misunderstood kid from Downey, CA, a New York City playwright, a Los Angelista and noted blogger..." Applause. And scene.
So today, I think I'm going to go on www.mediabistro.com and look up the different ways to make money writing articles. I also should do some research on what kind of exercise program I'm going to approach after P90X. I loved it, but thought towards the end I was overtraining. I met a very handsome guy in the air force who told me about Crossfit. I'll look into that today. I wonder if he was trying to tell me he wanted to train me. In the nude.
Sometimes I can be so dense. I'm off and running. Not literally, although now I'm thinking about that LA Marathon again.
Yesterday, it was starting this blog. And look what that produced! I'm flying up to my alma mater to speak about my experiences:
"Please welcome our guest who has been a misunderstood kid from Downey, CA, a New York City playwright, a Los Angelista and noted blogger..." Applause. And scene.
So today, I think I'm going to go on www.mediabistro.com and look up the different ways to make money writing articles. I also should do some research on what kind of exercise program I'm going to approach after P90X. I loved it, but thought towards the end I was overtraining. I met a very handsome guy in the air force who told me about Crossfit. I'll look into that today. I wonder if he was trying to tell me he wanted to train me. In the nude.
Sometimes I can be so dense. I'm off and running. Not literally, although now I'm thinking about that LA Marathon again.
9/9/09
I'm sharing and embracing in the energy of today. We could all use a little zsa zsa zou (sorry, I was watching the Season 5 closer last night). Thanks, Jen Frances for sending!
This date holds the energy of Nine, the energy of all that is. Nine is also known as the number of completion and it carries the vibrations of all the numbers before it, therefore it is completion. This triple nine gateway carries a mathematical frequency and is at it’s highest on 9/9/09. The opening of this gateway signifies the end of fear.
This date holds the energy of Nine, the energy of all that is. Nine is also known as the number of completion and it carries the vibrations of all the numbers before it, therefore it is completion. This triple nine gateway carries a mathematical frequency and is at it’s highest on 9/9/09. The opening of this gateway signifies the end of fear.
The frequency of nine is universal it is unconditional love, healing , strength, & higher consciousness. This is a most powerful day to release the pain and limitations of the past, an opportunity to heal, restore and recalibrate connecting with the very encoding of your DNA. We will then be activating from the cellular levels of our being a time we have long awaited for.
Many will feel this shift and the best way to connect with intention is through meditation. Take time to relax, breathe and let your mind and body slow down, slowing down the brain waves so that you receive. One simply has to ask to connect to the 9/9/09 energy, you will be heard by millions of beings of light joyfully awaiting and ready to fulfill your request. Be open and await and listen and know that what you receive is perfect to you.
You are ready for this powerful geometrical frequency of 9 to be received and shift your mind/body/spirit to that of unconditional love and divine connection to the Creator/God.
Take time on this day to consciously release and even physically clear out what is no longer needed in your surrounding. In deciding what needs to be released ask your self what keeps you from feeling joy, move your thoughts and action to a place of alignment with joy. If needed make a list of what you are ready to be done with and know your request is heard and fulfilled. Imagine your physical body surrendering that that is no longer needed and the energy of the old you choose to let go of on this powerful day. No longer a need to look back, avoid the rear view mirror of your past and in trust and faith allow these new energies of higher vibrations to integrate and awaken the Joy within.
As you meditate this day, ask the Creator/God to release to you the highest information possible regarding your specific journey. Take this information into your heart and allow the information in. . Embrace the information and know that you are ready!
Ask, Allow and Receive!
As you meditate this day, ask the Creator/God to release to you the highest information possible regarding your specific journey. Take this information into your heart and allow the information in. . Embrace the information and know that you are ready!
Ask, Allow and Receive!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Meatballs
Not the movie, but an actual recipe. I've been on a meatball kick lately.
Actually, it all started a few months ago when I wanted to make albondigas soup (Mexican Meatball Soup).
So here's a loose recipe for a few different types that have worked lately. Our friends Jen and Steven loved them when we went to see "Being There" at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery on Saturday night.
Everything starts w/ 2 lbs of ground beef (of choice), a couple of eggs and breadcrumbs. Then:
Albondigas - cilantro, olive oil and garlic in a blender or food processor, make a pesto of sorts. Then mix that into the meat.
Putanesca - black olive tapenade, basil, garlic, red pepper flakes mixed into the meat.
Fatty balls - crumbled bacon, basil, garlic, grated parm, green onions chopped fine mixed into the meat.
Roll into little balls. Fry up in a pan with some olive oil. shake the pan every five minutes over medium heat, so that they're brown on all sides.
For the albondigas, I add them to a soup w/ broth, onions, celery, carrots. For the putanesca, I do a spicy marinara to serve them with and for the fatty balls, maybe a nice homemade ketchup (large can of tomato puree, 1/2 cup of brown sugar and 1 cup of apple cider vinegar, plus other spices of your choice - look on the food network website for a real recipe, either Jamie Oliver's or Emeril's habanero/orange).
I'll put the recipe in a later post.
Mmmm...
Actually, it all started a few months ago when I wanted to make albondigas soup (Mexican Meatball Soup).
So here's a loose recipe for a few different types that have worked lately. Our friends Jen and Steven loved them when we went to see "Being There" at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery on Saturday night.
Everything starts w/ 2 lbs of ground beef (of choice), a couple of eggs and breadcrumbs. Then:
Albondigas - cilantro, olive oil and garlic in a blender or food processor, make a pesto of sorts. Then mix that into the meat.
Putanesca - black olive tapenade, basil, garlic, red pepper flakes mixed into the meat.
Fatty balls - crumbled bacon, basil, garlic, grated parm, green onions chopped fine mixed into the meat.
Roll into little balls. Fry up in a pan with some olive oil. shake the pan every five minutes over medium heat, so that they're brown on all sides.
For the albondigas, I add them to a soup w/ broth, onions, celery, carrots. For the putanesca, I do a spicy marinara to serve them with and for the fatty balls, maybe a nice homemade ketchup (large can of tomato puree, 1/2 cup of brown sugar and 1 cup of apple cider vinegar, plus other spices of your choice - look on the food network website for a real recipe, either Jamie Oliver's or Emeril's habanero/orange).
I'll put the recipe in a later post.
Mmmm...
Expert/Rebel
So I got a Facebook message today from Barbara Murray, the chair of the SCU Theatre Department today. It was funny because she had just emailed me about what I had been up to and I had just emailed her about teaching last week. She's invited me to come speak to some students about "The Business of the Business." I guess that assumes that I know something. Well, I know a few things. There's nothing like a former professor calling you up because enough time has passed and you're now considered an expert, or at least someone who can share life experiences.
And then I went back in time in the time machine in my head. To a time I've been thinking about a lot lately. When I was an actor/singer/dancer/playwright/choreographer/rebel at Santa Clara University as an English major, double minor in theatre and dance. I did my own thing - asking for understanding rather than permission.
When did I stop being a rebel? I'm still young. I've got some rebel left in me. Actually, I've probably got a lot left in me that I've been storing up for a few years. This would be an interesting time for me to get back to SCU. I'm thinking about the next three plays I want to write at the place where I started writing plays. One of those happens to be a dance theatre version of MEDEA, which is a piece I've been thinking about and "working on" for the past ten years. Maybe I'll spend some time in the new dance studios working with some music and a notebook, just like I did back then.
Actually, I think I'll also bring my copy of Twyla Tharp's book, THE CREATIVE HABIT, with me as well. No unitard this time. Just some barefeet and some loose trousers. That could be fun.
I'm starting to get excited.
And then I went back in time in the time machine in my head. To a time I've been thinking about a lot lately. When I was an actor/singer/dancer/playwright/choreographer/rebel at Santa Clara University as an English major, double minor in theatre and dance. I did my own thing - asking for understanding rather than permission.
When did I stop being a rebel? I'm still young. I've got some rebel left in me. Actually, I've probably got a lot left in me that I've been storing up for a few years. This would be an interesting time for me to get back to SCU. I'm thinking about the next three plays I want to write at the place where I started writing plays. One of those happens to be a dance theatre version of MEDEA, which is a piece I've been thinking about and "working on" for the past ten years. Maybe I'll spend some time in the new dance studios working with some music and a notebook, just like I did back then.
Actually, I think I'll also bring my copy of Twyla Tharp's book, THE CREATIVE HABIT, with me as well. No unitard this time. Just some barefeet and some loose trousers. That could be fun.
I'm starting to get excited.
Sex and the City, Season 6, Part 2 Revisited
So yesterday as I was doing some work on this pilot I'm writing, I felt like I needed some inspiration and I had eaten all of the meatballs and cheese in the house.
So I looked through some old DVDs to see what I hadn't watched in a while. And at the same time I was looking on Perez Hilton and saw some pictures from the set of the Sex and the City sequel. So I decided to go back and look at the last 8 episodes of the final season. And because I actually was trying to "raise the stakes" in the story I'm writing, I decided to listen to Michael Patrick King's commentary on the final three episodes of the series.
This is the thing about MPK's commentary on the S&TC DVDs: He loves talking about the brilliant and subtle storytelling he used while writing the series. And that's not a judgment because I'm a sucker who loves to listen to the magician reveal the tricks behind his tricks. I could listen to him all day draw connections between why it had to be THAT Loubatin in THAT particular scene. Because that's how I live my life, making connections that may or may not be there. And MPK actually helped me map out some important story points in my script.
So this is my conclusion about Season Six, Part Two: It's pretty great. Everyone looks amazing. We get to see the balance of tragedy, farce, slapstick, romantic comedy and emotional touchstones. While at the same time referencing the history of the series and giving a wink to the audience who wanted Carrie and Big to get together all along. I love talk like that! The French rap which shows that rap can transcend culture and language. The tutu in Plaza Athenee that references the tutu in the opening credits. The way that Big touches and cares for Carrie when he kisses her in Paris vs. just ravaging her. The full circle of Big saying "Abso-fucking-lutely" when they get back to New York and the character of Carrie vs. the actress of SJP referencing that moment to herself to Big the character vs. the actor Chris Noth. Layer upon layer upon layer of storytelling! Like the layers of tulle Carrie wore when she was waiting for Alexandr to come home at the hotel.
I could go on and on. But I won't.
Thanks, MPK for the inspiration. And I'm eating Triscuits while trying to decide what I want for lunch.
So I looked through some old DVDs to see what I hadn't watched in a while. And at the same time I was looking on Perez Hilton and saw some pictures from the set of the Sex and the City sequel. So I decided to go back and look at the last 8 episodes of the final season. And because I actually was trying to "raise the stakes" in the story I'm writing, I decided to listen to Michael Patrick King's commentary on the final three episodes of the series.
This is the thing about MPK's commentary on the S&TC DVDs: He loves talking about the brilliant and subtle storytelling he used while writing the series. And that's not a judgment because I'm a sucker who loves to listen to the magician reveal the tricks behind his tricks. I could listen to him all day draw connections between why it had to be THAT Loubatin in THAT particular scene. Because that's how I live my life, making connections that may or may not be there. And MPK actually helped me map out some important story points in my script.
So this is my conclusion about Season Six, Part Two: It's pretty great. Everyone looks amazing. We get to see the balance of tragedy, farce, slapstick, romantic comedy and emotional touchstones. While at the same time referencing the history of the series and giving a wink to the audience who wanted Carrie and Big to get together all along. I love talk like that! The French rap which shows that rap can transcend culture and language. The tutu in Plaza Athenee that references the tutu in the opening credits. The way that Big touches and cares for Carrie when he kisses her in Paris vs. just ravaging her. The full circle of Big saying "Abso-fucking-lutely" when they get back to New York and the character of Carrie vs. the actress of SJP referencing that moment to herself to Big the character vs. the actor Chris Noth. Layer upon layer upon layer of storytelling! Like the layers of tulle Carrie wore when she was waiting for Alexandr to come home at the hotel.
I could go on and on. But I won't.
Thanks, MPK for the inspiration. And I'm eating Triscuits while trying to decide what I want for lunch.
My Facebook Self vs. My Real Self pt 1
It's sad when you have to look at your Facebook profile to realize what you like or don't like. I'm in the process of adding things to this blog and I had to use my Facebook page as a reference to remind myself of things that define my Point of Loo.
Such as...
My activities range from marathon running (which I'm currently taking a break from - although it looks like 2010 in LA will be the next one) to yoga (I want people to think I'm both centered and flexible...both literally and figuratively). What I left out: eating potato salad, pacing around farmer's markets (my faves are Culver City on Tuesday, West Hollywood on Mondays and Melrose Place on Sundays), and bugging the shit out of my boyfriend.
My fave tv shows include: Sex and the City and The Cosby Show (both for the fashion) AND True Blood and RuPaul's Drag Race (both feature creatures that only come out at night). What's not on there is my new obsession w/ Nurse Jackie, Dance Your Ass Off and Wendy Williams. So if anyone were to go onto my Facebook page, I guess they'd just have an incomplete picture of the person I am. Or at least the person I present to the people I choose to friend or let friend me on Facebook.
It begs the existential question - Who Am I? Or Who Am I To You? Jeez, this is way too much thought for the Tuesday after Labor Day.
I need lunch. And then I'm going to update my Facebook.
Such as...
My activities range from marathon running (which I'm currently taking a break from - although it looks like 2010 in LA will be the next one) to yoga (I want people to think I'm both centered and flexible...both literally and figuratively). What I left out: eating potato salad, pacing around farmer's markets (my faves are Culver City on Tuesday, West Hollywood on Mondays and Melrose Place on Sundays), and bugging the shit out of my boyfriend.
My fave tv shows include: Sex and the City and The Cosby Show (both for the fashion) AND True Blood and RuPaul's Drag Race (both feature creatures that only come out at night). What's not on there is my new obsession w/ Nurse Jackie, Dance Your Ass Off and Wendy Williams. So if anyone were to go onto my Facebook page, I guess they'd just have an incomplete picture of the person I am. Or at least the person I present to the people I choose to friend or let friend me on Facebook.
It begs the existential question - Who Am I? Or Who Am I To You? Jeez, this is way too much thought for the Tuesday after Labor Day.
I need lunch. And then I'm going to update my Facebook.
Just the Tip
After yet another weekend of drinking too much, being out too late, and starting the week at a deficit, I thought the best thing to do was start a blog. Like so many others before me. But they say that getting started is the hardest thing to do. And it seems like I've been getting started for quite some time now. I've got a graduate degree in writing from NYU and I've been trying to break into the entertainment industry for a while. Guess what? Nothing's really happening. I've written my plays and gotten them produced or had readings of them. I've written numerous spec scripts and pilots and can get them to various executives and showrunners...
I think the thing to mention here is that I'm not a shitty writer. At least I don't think so. And neither does my mother, my brother, my boyfriend, my best friends and people who think I'm cute and probably would say anything to get into my pants.
And the jury's still out mid-first blog post. The point is that I'm doing everything I should be doing to be the great success I've always fancied myself becoming. Well, everything except put my unique point of view (or Point of Loo) together in a blog.
Wow, this is like overindulgent, verbal masturbation - which I would loathe in a stage play or a piece of performance art, but here seems strangely allowed and appropriate. So I'm going to continue because I'm no where near climaxing...
Well, maybe I should hold off from blowing my wad all at once. This is just the first post. A taste. A tease.
Just the tip, if you will. No need to go all the way in yet. Not without lubrication anyway.
I think the thing to mention here is that I'm not a shitty writer. At least I don't think so. And neither does my mother, my brother, my boyfriend, my best friends and people who think I'm cute and probably would say anything to get into my pants.
And the jury's still out mid-first blog post. The point is that I'm doing everything I should be doing to be the great success I've always fancied myself becoming. Well, everything except put my unique point of view (or Point of Loo) together in a blog.
Wow, this is like overindulgent, verbal masturbation - which I would loathe in a stage play or a piece of performance art, but here seems strangely allowed and appropriate. So I'm going to continue because I'm no where near climaxing...
Well, maybe I should hold off from blowing my wad all at once. This is just the first post. A taste. A tease.
Just the tip, if you will. No need to go all the way in yet. Not without lubrication anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)