Sunday, October 9, 2011
My Dad called this house a shack in jest, if I recall correctly - it's not exactly packing cases stapled together or anything. But I think he said there's only one layer of wall and no insulation between inside and outside, and the original electricity setup was *shudder* an amateur endeavor.
There was something else shoddy about it that he mentioned, I think... But now it's fairly cozy, wiring up to code, and who needs insulation when there are this many books and collectables lining the walls?
Heh. Well, collectable in the sense that he collected them. We, my two elder siblings and I, are trying to figure out what to do with it all. Who will want to buy what at a decent price? I'm pretty sure we're going to flood the market for 90 year old ohm meters. Ebay is often mentioned but that is verry labor intensive, listing each item in sufficient detail. Urgh. It'll be enough if we can get it into sufficient order to sell to dealers - we may not get the highest possible price, but the savings in effort seems adequate recompense, at this time.
My sister has suggested getting rid of the couch I currently occupy to create more book-sorting space. But this is where I sit ensconced, spending hours and days on the internet! Oh... well. Maybe it's a good idea. *sulks* Though I can see myself just settling in the chair instead, less comfortably but not particularly deterred from the webs.
Not that our efforts have gotten very far. I thought back this spring that I might be living elsewhere by now, some sublet in Brooklyn or the Bronx perhaps, trying out neighborhoods of the city to determine regions to consider buying an apartment in. I long for a commute of less than 80 minutes, that's for sure. Being able to stay out to any hour of the night and still get public transport home - that may well be revolutionary in my creative and recreational life. Though having those options seem to bring scary, scary realms of possibility - for performance, for design, for playwrighting maybe even - for failure. And trying to little avail is so much worse than not trying at all, it seems, in the depths of my gut, in my clenching ribcage and constricted breath.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Pfaw! I make a sort of plosive sound of derision at that `too much' notion. I've run short of good Snughorn to read, it appears (Slughorn and Snape, and there isn't much of it about, wah) so for some reason, let's say writing practice, I feel compelled to compile a probably-not-at-all-comprehensive list of
( Theories found in fanfiction about Severus Snape's hair:Collapse )
Current mood: guiltily pleasured
Thursday, September 29, 2011
I went to an interactive theater event last week called "Lush Valley" last week at HERE. I believe it was meant to inspire political engagement. It was indeed well performed, interestingly conceived, and thought provoking. Fun as well. The premise was that the audience/participants were applying to immigrate to a nation/concept called Lush Valley.
The opportunities to vote were for national symbols and anthem, and the opportunity to change something was via focus groups re-writing the oath of citizenship. All of which imparted the feeling for me that voting is a meaningless camouflage, used to impart an illusion of choice, while the people already in charge retain any real power, and hey, it looks like an older white guy is at the top of the hierarchy. Oddly familiar! I engage in a cynical sneer. Though I think they were going for inspiring more civic engagement, actually... Hey, there's an article in the Times claiming that very same sentiment is all the rage, hmm. I may have to read that, though I attempt to maintain serene ignorance, of late.
Anyhow there was a person who seemed strangely familiar among the cast/officials. Where had I met this person, Suzi Takahashi according to the nametag? Burlesque? Sex Party? Work, maybe even?
She approached me after and revealed that we in fact went to the same highschool, Northern Valley. Gee! A first, to my knowledge, in my travels. A memory has surfaced of her as Gladys, engaging in a little dance in a production of "The Pajama Game". Hmmph, I still I envy her getting a lead; people who can produce a nice large vocal volume as Suzi is able to definitely have an edge in school-auditorium casting!
Further discussion revealed that she had directed a play, FTM, in the stages transgender theater festival I had assisted in producing years ago!!! Not that I got to see that one, I was probably running lights for a different show or indulging in a couple hours sleep or having that first date with my future SweetiePlum, pull_toy </lj>. :)
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
There is not enough Snape/Hagrid fanfiction.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Hello F-list. The occasional spamming comments in cyrillic have been the liveliest thing on my LJ for some time!
Thing is, I stopped reading my Friends' postings back sometime in June. I didn't look at it one day, and then the next - and so on.
I feel badly at that lapse: I had let a person or two know that I had been reading their LJ with interest and attention, even if I seldom made comments. I perhaps implied that I would continue doing so, would continue being a reader of their Journals, to their recountings of their lives, or stories, drawings, whatever. I feel I've violated a social contract of sorts.
And, in turn, I confess I hoped they would reciprocate. Though it is grudgingly acceptable to me if these words are only here for my record and use, I still hope that they will not drop totally unremarked by any. I do want witnesses, silent or otherwise. I bet you do also, dear reader.
Perhaps I just feel I'm special and interesting and worthy of note. Well I suppose I do feel that. ;) And the LiveJournal friends' journals are also, so I'm backtracking. I can't guarantee I'll read every entry since June, but have started to make an attempt.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Today I put dessicated clover blossoms on my parents' grave. Some - what is it, seven months? after my father's death, we finally trekked up to Albany to bury his mortal remains: ashes in a shiny vessel that looked like a paintcan. Dave carried it around the house, Dad's house, before we set out at 7:30 this morning.
He thought of putting it in a more characteristic vessel, like a length of pipe or a gramaphone horn, thought of choosing a representative item from pop's beloved collections to be with him. But he didn't, couldn't choose I suppose. No one else did, and it doesn't seem to matter that much . Like displaying his body at the funeral in a suit he hardly ever wore, rather than a plaid shirt and patched jeans: a nice idea, but doesn't seem so much to matter. Glad we got the suspenders in, though.
I had wanted to look at Dad's ashes before they were put in the ground, but didn't; guess I was too embarrassed, didn't make a chance to do so. I want to see and to photograph everything, everything to do with this whole process. It makes it bearable, sort of, to part with things. My brother Dave told me that it looked like sand.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
That's not my line, but it does appertain!
Yes, folks, many things happening - for instance I recently co-produced, co-costumed and did lights for a show at WOW that I neglected to detail here: "Hidden: A Gender", by Kate Bornstein ! Maybe more on that later.
But now I'm actually in a show! It's broad, it's silly, a bit political, it's often hilarious and yes, hot.
Hansel and Gretel: a burlesque fairy tale
Thursday - Saturday May 19th - 28th 2011, 8pm
$20 (though no one turned away due to lack of funds)WOW Cafe Theatre
59-61 East 4th street between Bowery and 2nd Ave., New York NY
Tonight is a sort of open-dress rehearsal - because we aren't quite ready to open, alas. So it's $10.
And damn, it is fun. Though I'm reminded why I avoid seeking roles in plays as opposted to single night variety shows - I have to speak loudly (which I find difficult) and have to rehearse. Feh.
Worthwhile, however, I think in this instance. My castmates are pretty darn good, the writing by JZ Bich is also, and the set remarkably elaborate (for WOW, certainly). Please come!
It's been challenging and fun working up a more-or-less in character strip number. I've gone my usual route of piling on the costume elements. :) I'm playing minor parts as Sex Trafficer #2
- and that of Dad
, ironically enough. I guess. Is that what ironic means? not sure anymore if I ever knew. ;)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
I've been listening to a lot of folk music recently - the vintage of my parents' early 60s record collection, preferably - and Pete Seeger's voice sounding out "To everything, there is a season... " seems like the appropriate, if perhaps hackneyed soundtrack for this moment.
Although what's actually playing for the Equinox approaching is tacky pop music from 1980 on the oldies station.
Oh my, I am reminded that it is time for the genuinely oldies program on WFUV - the Big Broadcast! *tunes in*
My Dad died one month ago. 31 days: February 17th. It seems both much more recent and strangely distant.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I dunno, actually, it is more or less polite to attempt to command my LJ list's attention with two posts rather than a long one with an LJ cut? Hmm. Onward...
7. Dead father graphic novel reading club! Two excellent works, and they're by queers of note:
Jokes and the Unconscious .Text Daphne Gottlieb, Illustrated by Diane DiMassa of Hothead fame. Savage as you might expect. :)
Fun Home by Alison Bechdel. Sooooo good as you might expect!
These fathers, while also seeming to perhaps be diagnosable as having bipolar, are way more scary to the narrators of these works than mine to me. Er, I wanted to mention that. Gee, I'm having a moment of deja vu as if I've typed that before...
8. Oh fuckity fuck unfuck, I am so behind in my part of the costuming for the production of Hidden: A Gender that I am also helping produce. The director must be frantic but is probably feeling hesitant about bothering me right now. Alright, I'm working that grief card for all it's worth! Uh, yay?
9. I did celebrate St. Markdowns by buying a couple of post-Valentines 50% off heart-shaped candy collections. These, I discover, are not as fortuitous without having my Dad around to eat the ones I don't like. He would take creams, I'd consume the nuts and chewy morsels, and coconut we'd throw out. An agreeable division of labor. OK, yes, now I'm sad.
As S. Bear Bergman does, I'll do a numbered list. As I am feeling self-indulgent, it's long with no LJ cut. Yes, rude. Er, I apologize in advance but am still doing it. Right. Actually I'll do it in two posts as I do like to be mannerly, generally.
1. I really ought to write down the semi-eulogy I gave at my Dad's funeral while I still recall it mostly. It went pretty well, actually, it all did.
2. My memory tends towards the foggy and sometimes possibly invented/conflated. At least I am aware that I am apt to sometimes confabulate recollections out of combined own experience and others' recountings. I wonder if that's why I seem to remember so little - because, unlike many other people, I am aware how morphable memories can be, and unlike others I do not automatically fill in the blanks with assumptions and thus have less `complete' memories than those who do? Maybe a little. I may mostly have a fog-nog. :) I think it's mostly a depression-related thing, that's one of the symptoms I've read of. Hmmm.
3. Hmm, I find myself wanting to document things generally. I did take photos of my Dad's house before we get to removing his many things.
4. I'm feeling strangely normal, most of the time.
5. Though unnerved as my siblings and I propose to survey the scene at Dad's house and figure out a course of action this weekend. That is a rough prospect. Glad I'm facing it in the company of sibs I respect.
6. As I may have written in this space before, he collected things. A collector of collections, as my sister put it. Gee this is going to be a large task, especially as I too tend to hoard. It's the family curse, as I like to quip.
Current mood: apprehensive
Friday, February 18, 2011
I was mentally composing a paeon to The Feast of St. Markdown's - a moveable festival centered around deeply discounted post-holiday items. I was also - possibly - going to write about the play I'm coproducting, and starting a mental draft of a eulogy for my Dad.
But my father died yesterday. So that draft needs to get completed. It's nNot at all unexpected, as this implies. Though I was half expecting him to hang on for another weary decade.
Pretty wracking nonetheless. There are a kazillion practical things to do. I'm very glad I have siblings who I repect and can split the list with. Feeling gets in the way but, I know how shortsighted locking such grief n' stuff away is. I will try to alternate loss and needful activity. Actually it is sometimes easier to cry while doing stuff - it feels much more admirably efficient, anyhow.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
In 2011, fuzzylobsters
Go to fanfiction every Sunday.
Lose ten lol cats by March.
Take evening classes in genderfuck.
Start a webcomix fund.
Ask my boss for a drag.
Cut down to ten drag kings a day.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
There appears to be another person using the sobriquet fuzzylobsters on twitter, and perhaps the same person is using it on OKCupid. Foo. Well, it is at least less common than my other nom d' stuff, Sir Real.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Another barely-edited, just toss it off sort of writing excercise. I was attempting one liners but will settle for a one-paragrapher.
My fascination with pregnancy is as least as old as my laying eyes as a child on my mother's 50's era natural childbirth book. There were photos of rows of white women in big white underwear, identity obliterating black bars printed over their faces, arching and flexing on all fours. I'm 40. It's very unlikely that I will ever discover the probably far less erotic than imagined experience of bearing a child. Plus there's that pesky giving birth and ensuing baby to deal with. Still, I so want (in that abstract please no don't let it actually happen way) to be round, ungainly, huge, full, invaded by the strangeness of it. I want to pump that condition into others' bodies, besides.
Current mood: confessional
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Grandma was a sharp-shooter
My mother's mother's father, I am told, came from Albany to New York City, fleeing the secure trammels of the family's pharmacy business. ( He wanted to be a photographer...Collapse )
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sister Honky Tonk
I am now heading for the SPAM party, with a stop in the port authority bus station's bathroom in order to dress up as Mae West.
Well I did my makeup in the bus station 3rd floor bathroom , it's relatively quiet. ( I affixed my wig while waiting for an R trainCollapse )
And I ran into a sweet and darn smart and nifty person I'd encountered before, at Submit. That individual had stated that _[don't know the pronoun]__ was always stone before and would I fuck __? This was so so flattering and the youngster was fun to explore with. We didn't have oodles of time to get into it, but I think it was gratifying for all. But we chatted after on the subway, though it's very unusual for me to want to spend any more time with a person post-party.
We chatted after this past SPAM party also and I found, as I had suspected, that I am a bit more than twice this person's age. I am officially an old perv and am quite enjoying that. :D
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Just saw "Next to Normal" - a discount rush ticket in the very first row. Couldn't see some of the stage but could see people breaking open right on top of me. Marin Mazzie is so so good. I advocate seeing it from whatever seat you can.
The music - variable. I can't remember the melodies. But the lyrics, some are sticking. The song "I remember the mountains" wherein Diana (diagnosed as bipolar, delusional) recalls a time before she was thoroughly medicated. I remember racking depression of my own and in some ways I miss it a bit... it felt very, well, real. Incredibly awful but real, whatever that means.
Now I'm running a bit late to go get ready for SPAM, where perhaps diagnosable persons will perch on my lap - hope so. :D
Does anyone know of nifty Chicago playparty or some dandy person who could use my attentions? I'm plotting another two city sex tour but thus far I only have one city. Hee.
later - oh foo, I didn't get to SPAM. :(
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Well, so, I noticed that the lineup for the next Hypergender show was a bit short, and I offered my services, which is to say I horned in. Gee, I am not sure when I last performed. On stage. More than a year, I'm fairly sure!!
Host JZ Bich said sure. Now I actually have to think of an act. It's an early hallow-weenerie, happening - oh my gosh - next Saturday.
The title is `Evil Residence'. So I'm thinking domestic horrors. Uh, the following might be triggering? I should mention that, I think...
( my first notion...Collapse )
Sister/sister stuff would be less charged, very likely. "Whatever happened to Baby Jane?" anyone? The breast/booze notion would work there as well. Maybe using the song "Sisters" from White Christmas. And I have an image of someone - not sure who, probably Jane - getting fucked with the body of the dead parakeet. Though I haven't actually seen the dang movie. Very remiss, I know. :D
HOWEVER a large problem: My ideas to date would necessarily involve two people! I lack the time and inclination to collaborate, really. Foo.
I'm sure very likely you have something brilliant to suggest, F-List? *flutters lashes in flattering appeal*
Friday, September 24, 2010
Last Thursday, my fave greenmarket vendor sold me what she claimed were the last peaches of the season. Today I extracted the final one from the paper bag in which is was ripening and ate it. The epitome of succulent, fleeting glory.
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