Man, I wish the editing fairy had visited me this morning.

The author wakes up to find the pages on the floor were written by someone else, they HAD to be, though you are the only one there. (If Mr. King hasn't written that one yet, wake me in time for the yuletide box set.)

Ever come upon a box of writing of your own, that you had forgotten about, that upon reading, fucking impressed you so much the recognition you had written it yourself was lost out of entertainment and envy?
The context, approach, even vocabulary was completely different. Of course, there were a million things I wanted to change. I had recently tried to retype an old paper to blog and could not get through it without making changes. That's kind of the beauty of it - you see the mistakes and/or yourself from a futuristic as well as basic juvenile corrections, and only because you want to change it to make it better. A little refreshing, that everyday shit can get real fucking bad,
and I will still say "you fool" to the glory days -
out of knowledge.

I am not saying I typed the great American novel, cause that's next year. Anyone who reads understands style. When there was a short period of JayC's top ten things, I knew immediately what was written by Joel, and a couple others because of that.
It's just a very interesting process to like something I did awhile back and not even remember the voice or words that created it.
And I'm gonna steal like hell from it! (Man, Dan Forgerty could have lost that case, if I had been working for the prosecution.)

I would hope that even this and a much later accidental stumbling upon the woman that wrote blogs, will possibly remind me of a chick I still like,
but still want to edit.

goodnight, everyone

I'll post that blog one day, when I get a chance to edit or just get my hands on it so late that I'm too tired to retract it during the early morning cut, but don't you worry, Annette. I actually was so motion sick today I bought wedding magazines to take my mind effectively off the turbulance for 4 hours - helped a little, got a lot of ideas that I think you'd be proud of from someone who hasn't the pot to piss in. If you can't come, you have got to see the pictures. May 28th, by the buy, ugh.

Frank, c'mon. I love ya like mad, if ya don't know already. Most people that weren't in that room, or in the the show after, didn't find out until I flew 1500 miles to tell them over turkey.
I will agree cell phones suck ass. I would never have had one, even when I missed Joel at his new apt. and had to go pull out money for a fee at the 7-11 to get change to call JOel long-distance on his to find he was already a couple blocks away at the theatre, if it weren't for Sherry's fucked up muthafucka that Joel and I both were concerned would stalk us to Sequoia Nat. Park, I still wouldn't.
We didn't get matching, cheap cellphones for the art of cute. We got them because we thought some tweeked out fuckhead might kill me and my girl.
That's almost conversation a wouldn't turn down from a pie hole,
and, I guess, at least, if the only positive thing in that scenario...
I survived.
Now, on the other hand, my girlfriend trying to sell me hard-core drugs so she can pay her rent 1500 miles away while I'm on an Altanta public MARTA tranportation train- yeah, that's a call I'd like to save for the Wal-mart check-out counter.
Not many people get the exposure they feel they need, especially chicks, only to have the reason broadcast to the cheap seats of rapdily growing arena of people that don't give a fuck. The new flip phone is a lot more attractive than a Mr. Microphone, I assume, though not as funny.

Tom, good for you. Can't wait to meet her. Hope she can make the New Years at the theatre. If there's a theatre,.... or if I get the keys.
IT'S ON, MY SWEET, SWEET BRUTHA.

I'm keeping Nigel awake, so I must go.

I've missed you all. I hope to see you all soon.
Heard a good Rodney tonight, by accident,
"they entered me in a dog show, and I won."

Take care everyone, get laid, or eat turkey, or eat out and involve fowl.

"You know how to spell it." - appropriately slurred Eddie Murphy

goodnight

11-20-04
Joel proposed.
I have a whole blog that would just make you sick.
But, I will tell Annette, I didn't know you until I involuntarily was shown what it meant to be happy. Nothing else existed, or could. It was fantastic.

******
So I go home tomorrow, I mean, today.
I also mean, well, to Atlanta.
To what Dena would term as hell.
I was glad I sat sipping through the rain beaten noise of something that didn’t close this time.
I’ve gotten a second chance at everything.

Shouldn’t we all?
If not get it ourselves, at least give the allowance for someone else to?
Well, to at least, try to?
I think so.
I hope so.

“Mother arms reach out to me…”

What I find is different every year.
This year will be something I never expected.
Because neither did he.

Happy Holidays, you turkey poachin’ muthafuckas!

Take a nap.
We all deserve it.

Yes, I was drinking gasoline, mother.

In the company of women

I enjoyed my entire night. I spent most of it with women. Didn't realize it at first, but all those nice moments singular and collective were so randomly different and so deeply comfortable solely because of gender.
No question, women have the headlock on communication. Whether good at it or not, you better be. Just kind of cool that chicks have that unique loophole in relating to one another because of common denominators. Men don't have that. Our bodies and their consequences surpass all other differences. No matter how much animosity there may be, not many women would leave another woman in the bathroom if she was in distress. Weak example, but an accurate one.
Tj asked me one night why I hate women so much. I didn't have a definite answer because I had never been asked before. Good fucking question, I thought.
Later, a blog response I wrote pulled it together. It was about an issue that dealt specifically with women, and gave me full authority to relate because it directly impacts my body.
The anger I have is admittedly self-centric. All those bullshit ideals that I have to watch secondly perpetuated - make and keep my life very difficult.
I am proof that things can change, and don't feel too guilty resonating that with every (okay, every other 4) girlish slap to my face.

And just tonight,
Though I do promote a lot of negativity about my gender, it is because, without question, we are united by default AND REALLY USE IT, yet still can't get it together.
A lot of it's vanity, I would assume.
If I knew, boy, if I only knew - and if vanity's all it is - well, then there really is no solution that doesn't involve a needle.
Hey, even if I choose not to look permanently surprised in my 40s, at least, I'll have the paraphrenalia to go out like a fucking rock star.

Friday- F.M.- There was "no static at all" with the womenfolk tonight.
No competition. Nice, though unfortunately rare, I really, really hate that shit.
Men have great conversations with each other, but they're not the same. Women naturally go straight for the sordid and personal (not in that order) more quickly, if not immediately. I like that. Maybe men don't, in my experiences they haven't with each other, and I think that's too bad. The fact that women are less pronounced as a contender in life as opposed to one of it's potential prizes, changes the inclusion of understanding. It is kept separate largely because it's considered unimportant (okay, mis understood- if that sounds better), unless convenient, or conveniently complicated for personal distraction.
The differences really aren't that imposing.
The petty carats and better sponges do keep it so, and
for good reason -
When a women is talking to you, really, honestly saying something to you - there is an intimacy that transcends almost all voluntary action.
Strange that something like that can be overpowered by killing flowers, mining rocks, and taking all the fucking fun out of cocoa (I don't have the energy to make that one global. Sorry, just not tonight, I mean, today.)

Okay, Eso, there are some. Not many, but some. (Hell, I'll keep saying that even if they become millions, cause it'll honestly never be enough.) It began with you tonight, actually.
I was given a knock, and was gruntled. I have been given a couple lately. Enough to doubt. Some close, but however (now that I think about it) none female.
I was told that I was too strong.
You know what. Maybe it's something only gay men and women can understand.
Being treated like a little bitch, it's an acquired reaction. Most people, who really know what it's like, wouldn't choose it without thinking they had to, or wouldn't be a lot worse off if they didn't, and even under those circumstances, wouldn't outwardly resent.


I sold you short tonight, Estella.
Thank you, you crazy, crazy bitch.
Thank you.

Getting ready for the show, I'm putting off doing my hair for a moment.

Frank, I'm pretty sure god has a little bit to do with why you can't see good movies where you live because of his "clientele" - got to please the masses, you see. Unfortunately, good taste isn't as common as we would like, but at least we are the ones that are motivated enough to complain and find it elsewhere. Either that, or I'll just ask Joel. He's the closest to a religious superior that I know. Anyone who says my man lacks ambition is a heathen, or just a party pooper. You'll just have to come down here and see it. It's really fucking cute, but don't fret- it doesn't change the face of modern cinema. Plus we miss you.

Tom, what and where the fuck? I hate that you couldn't come, but as least let us know you are coming somewhere! (hee)

Katrina, keep up the typing and typing about drinking. I like both very much.

Annette. Where does that girl find the time? She blogs every fucking day!

Tj- I like watching you busy, and "you know we'll have a good time then."

Erikckckck - Thanks. I think you should type it in all caps. Compliments slip past too easily these days. Say it loud, my friend. Great reviews, by the by. You're the Stanley I never had.

Bruce - I'd like to see your email archive. You could take that shit on the road, if you could afford the gas.

Gen - With ideas like yours, you can never be small, no matter how you may feel.

Sherry - Today is Friday. You should call me.

Erica - You deserved every petal of those yellow roses. If you forgot every line and took a shit on the vanity, you'd still make that show fly.

Nick - hope the show is faring well.

JayC - how are ya?

Kyle - WHAT was it you were doing? We should talk - reaaal soon.

Anyone I left out, I'll come back. Gotta run and get beat up for the next 3 hours.
I feel good. I feel excited.
I miss you all.
Love and naughty tingles,
D

I had to take that back. I was depressed earlier, but stopped...
JayC, as I was watching "In plane site" there was a clip of GWB explaining what we were fighting against, "This isn't about any certain religion. This is evil."
I have never, in my experience known a statue of Justice with her scales, from 30 feet tall to 14 inches high, that was actually wearing a blindfold (Ireland) or steady enough for the scales to be balanced without propping it up with a matchbook (Kate Lownhawr's boss' desk).
The blame goes to the fact that there is an injustice caused by something that holds all the cards and makes no bones about cheating, which leaves you with the decision to either insult your own intelligence and play dumb and play along, or blissfully ignore everything and just trust completely because it's easier. That's why, Gen. JayC's sister's pain allowed to even exist is where the finger pointing comes in.
I can't offer any answers, admittedly, well, obviously cause I'd be drastically underpaid. I will say, that though I do not know what it is like to go through something as horrible as that - more than once! - I am consoled somewhat that she still has that much love to give, knowing the consequences now, and still is in an environment where she can be able to try again, if she chooses. A lot of people don't have that microcosm. And especially with this, the most important one.

Not to slight, but I think women are more in tune with circumstance and their longevity (we have less time to be indecisive).
She will do what she feels is right, and it will be right.

*****
Still I should be reeling from the time had last night. Little ole Bobby Rodgers' show with Stark Theatre at the Freakin' Frog. It had it's moments, great stage combat sequence, some old rehashed jokes turned skits, and of course, Bobby dressed as Colonel Saunders playing the devil (with horns!) humping the top of a pile of women that were fighting over a drumstick. Sheer heaven.
I also won the raffle! I was adorned with a bottle of champagne and a white satin sash that read "#1 SINNER"!
The combination of so many things I love along with the prime opportunity to spout off my favorite Oscar Wilde quote more than thrice ("Nothing makes one so vain as being told one's a sinner.") to random patrons including an author that used some Oscar quotes in his piece who, of course, didn't get it. Still unsure how later I was able to remove all my clothes during a striptease (at home) and still keep it on, but, hey, most sinners are best left oblivious to their magic.
It was a brilliant night of old and new rolling into itself, becoming more extrordinary than possibly ever imagined. Anyone who dares say I moved here for nothing needs only to spend an hour by my side.
I knew it was here. I had to believe that.
Now, there isn't a second now that let's me doubt it.
It's all been for this. Even though I know there's more, IT is beginning again.
Back at ya, Arlo, "This time with feelin'."

Oh, and the new hospital show HOUSE, total crap.

I performed stand-up tonight.

It wasn't great. Hell, Joel was in the bathroom for the first joke, but I had to get up there.

I had to.
I even told Joel, very early, I had to, but was worried because there was at least one more comic to go on. I could tell by the waiting body language and I didn't want to step on his toes. As the sentence came out of my mouth, I recognized him. Potter.

Potter was the first comic I met in this town, at the World Trade Center Casino.
The guy that introduced me to the fuck offs - that were in Mutiny-
crap comics- that totally excluded him-
he and I made our first Strip AND LA debut together -
and now he "headlines" at the college fry house-

he was also lucky enough to tell me that-
the EVER talented MARCUS AND MIRIAM moved to LA,
to do as well for themselves
as I know they won't

aside, from all that
I found that out post wanting to grab that mike

it wasn't good
it wasn't great

(even when Joel was pissing for most of the first part)
I wanted nothing else but grab that mike,
and did

and

(aside from all the fried chicken and Hunter Thompson insanities that I left out)

it means and meant nothing less than

everything

Funny, self-involved was the adjective that was shocked I couldn’t remember yesterday, since it is the one most applicable to my last couple of months.

First of all, Happy Belated to Bruce! Of all people, I hate that I was the one that was late on that congratulations. I even tried to post a picture of Amy Lee under a blue light screaming into the mike for my B-day shout out to only learn that PhotoIsland is closing down permanently. By Nov. 22nd everything they host will be lost and they encourage you to save all photos and host them somewhere else. (If anyone knows of an alternative let me know, hp hosting is bullshit.)
So, here’s to the 30, man.
I actually found a bit of writing inspiration thinking about your turning 30. I tapped into an unexploited area of female sexuality that resulted in a one time national holiday for every woman called “Bruce Day.”
As short as possibly explained, every woman would spend her 30th birthday celebrating that fact that she is hornier than her imagination of a 17 year old boy would be (because she’s not) instead of feeling depressed.
Funny, when I explained it to Joel, I said I’m still thinking of a name for it. He immediately said “Bruce Day!” I still agree, but since it’s within the context of strictly female sexual empowerment- I just don’t think the chicks would go for it.
I’ll keep you posted, though!
Bottoms up, Bruce! Hope you had a good one!

Nick-
Moving sucks, commuting sucks, but being in a show you really like and I guessing even cuter chicks in SLC, makes me happy. I feel your pain with the rental bullshit you’ve been dealing with. I’ve had nothing but problems in the place I’m living. Just since Joel has moved in, our air-conditioner has been a never-ending maintenance saga that resulted in it raining in our apt for about 2 months. It only just stopped because it got colder. The apt. office told me to call them if the heater gives us problems, but no need to fix it again until next spring. Sweet, huh?
Don’t think I’ll make it there for your shows. I hate that. I would love to see you onstage. However, Joel will be up there for Thanksgiving, then we will both be up there sometime in March for his brother’s wedding. Dates still pending. Maybe we’ll catch ya then, if not before!

Feeble excuse for being so self-absorbed lately-
Streetcar opened this weekend and is going very well.
Opening night, Joel brought home flowers and came to see the show. I was very happy about that.
It was a little rough for me because I was sick. I got a really high fever that afternoon, on top of having to shower (hot water), blow dry my hair (heat), put in hot rollers (more heat), got to the theatre and the air-conditioner was broken, for 3 hours have to wear underwear, a girdle, a slip, with various costume changes that include very thick pregnancy pillows, and perform a role that’s extremely physically and emotionally taxing.
It still went well, though excruciatingly hot. I kept a wet sock at both of my exits so I could try to keep the fever down and calm the fear of passing out during a scene.
I don’t normally sweat even when I exercise, so you can imagine how bad it was. My 9 month pillow was so soaked when I got to the dressing room that I had to wring it out.
Also, it’s no big secret that “Stanley” and I don’t care for each other, but that opening night - the scene that had been giving us both so much trouble, us with each other and me with props, worked for the very first time – we both felt it and knew damn well we nailed it right fucking on. As we came off stage, he whirled around and threw up his hands for a high five – in the entire 4 month process, it was the only time we had ever been happy with each other.
Though fleeting, it was a very nice moment.

But those that saw it loved it. The compliments that I got from Joel and Juicy were about the exact 4 places that I had been struggling with the whole time – I told them they had no idea just how much beyond thankful that really meant to me.
I also was pleased to hear that, during intermission, JayC, Joel and Tony, the newspaper reviewer, were outside discussing Stanley. Never actually meeting him, Joel has received very good reviews from Tony. Tony said he recognized him and JayC gave a formal introduction. Tony then told Joel that he would have made a great Stanley.
When Joel told me this later, he said that he almost told Tony that it would have been a little weird considering he was already engaged to Stella.
I said I wished he had. I have wanted to tell Tony (cause I am going to invite him and well, just think it’s too fucking cute), but never had an appropriate opportunity for it to come up in conversation.
I was so tickled with Tony’s comment. Very fantastic to hear a reviewer think you would’ve been a better actor for the role, and very very fantastic, for a role that placed him opposite me as my husband, without having any clue Joel and I are even involved.
Very sweet ______ …I actually don’t know what to call that because it well exceeds the parameters of what I consider a compliment.
Though Joel doesn’t agree with him, he was right.

My first Stanley scene still gives me trouble. It’s my own fault, but having major costume trouble hasn’t been helping it. Opening night, props were missing, the second, the safety pins pinning my slip down (it’s an usually low cut dress) both popped and were stabbing my tits every time I bent over – didn’t help that it’s the scene where I have to constantly bend over to pick up the crap that he’s flailing out of the trunk. The frantic, unsuccessful boob tucking and adjusting prior to that scene doesn’t help my focus much. I think solving that will ease most of the problems I’m having.

We had our first matinee today. It rained the entire day. Without the air-conditioner working properly, most of the audiences have been angered because they thought we had been keeping it so hot in there for authentic New Orleans atmosphere. If it wasn’t hot enough before, it was hot and humid enough today.
Though soaking wet and makeup melting (and my fever), today’s was the best we’ve done so far. I was strangely emotional today too. I have 4 definite places where I have to cry on cue. There are others that pop up, but 4 that absolutely have to happen and for real because the thrust stage puts me basically in the audience’s lap for most of them.
I have never had to cry onstage before and was surprised that I didn’t have too much trouble with it. This past week I started having trouble and had been inner scrambling on how to force it.
Not today.
Another first, I actually had to pull back so I wouldn’t get out of control and pull focus.
As I came out for the last scene, I was folding and packing Blanche’s clothes on the bed and as the poker scene began suddenly the lights went out.
We usually have problems with the light board. It sometimes cuts out for a moment, but not long enough to halt the action. Today it was dead. I realized right away it wasn’t just a technical problem. Walter came out and announced that a transformer had exploded and the entire block was without electricity and would be for quite a while. The worst part was that our emergency lights also failed. The audience was shockingly amused as they sat in pitch black. All those blue-hairs sweating their asses off were so taken by the show they giggled in the dark, wanted to see the end, and patiently waited for the final scene to happen.
I sat on the bed still uncannily emotionally in character as flashlights randomly shot across the stage. I heard Sue in the box office asking for candles and suddenly Bob jumped up from the poker table and asked everyone, “Candlelight, huh? HUH?!”
The place erupted with applause. With a candle placed on the poker table and one on the vanity, and flashlights held at the window seat, far exit, and a tech with one in the kitchen, the entire stage glowed crystal fucking clear.
It was the most incredible experience. I still don’t know how it worked. Especially with flashlights, and an actual tech onstage in the corner of the set, it was completely unnoticeable they were there, the beams just merely illuminated and didn't harshly spotlight our faces like anyone including me would've believed.
Because of the circumstances and the candlelit stage, the scene automatically became insanely intimate. Every person in the room could feel it. Every actor on that stage was consumed by the scene because of it. I’ve never been in a room emotionally charged like that. As Walter yelled “And Lights Out!,” I looked up and saw an elderly man sitting in the audience right in front of me with tears streaming down his face.
I have never been that affected by a show. It was a relief to see that I wasn’t the only one.
Though we have never greeted the audience as they exited this show, every single one of us without a word went straight out to the front to say goodbye.
I went to the inner lobby first to use the restroom and was immediately bombarded by the patrons. I tried to keep my composure, but was comforted that I wasn’t the only one with tears still in my eyes.
I was happy to thank them as much as they felt they needed to thank me.
Though it was the most disturbed I have been by the show, it was the first time I had ever seen a production draw in both actors and patrons so deeply that they became palpably familial.

Of all the times I have ever performed, that was the most powerful experience I have ever had onstage.
And I will never, ever forget it.

Goodnight, everyone.

There are just some problems that Sundays shouldn't be burdened with. Any problem on Sunday is still going to be there on Monday. Tell Ben Franklin to go fuck himself and deal with it tomorrow - and relax, take a nap, get laid, or, in the event of no nookie, please, for the sake of Sundays, go fuck your self!

Let's all fall alseep with a smile tonight.
That's a good night.