The Adventures of Mr. Artsy Hotpants

So Many Little Things

2006-03-16T13:26:00.000-08:00

Updates on several fronts:

THE LAW SCHOOL GAME IS WINDING DOWN
Finally! What a crazy mind fuck of a process! I have spent almost an entire year on LSAT prep, applications, waiting for decisions, visiting schools and evaluating offers. In three months, I'll be a 1L. After much careful deliberation, I have decided to matriculate (such a big lawyer word, huh?) at Cardozo School of Law, the law school of Yeshiva University, in NYC. It was a school I fell in love with the moment I visited and it was the school by which all of the others ended up being measured. I love that it's a young and dynamic place. Kind of like me. I love that it's in Greenwich Village. I love that the faculty is packed with young stars; I'm anxious to learn from them. I love that I'm about to start a journey so different from everything I have ever known. And I love all the things they have done to show how much they want me. Unless Columbia or UCLA come knocking, I've been waitlisted at both schools and would drop everything to attend either, you can find me at the corner of 12th St and 5th Ave for the next three years.

Time for a bit of reflection. In the past couple of weeks, I have been asking friends and myself, "So, I really have to go through with this, right?" While I find change exhilarating, it scares the hell out of me. The excitement is topped off with doubt, anxiety and fear. Now I am not a religious or particularly spiritual person, but I know that this is the right decision for me and I know that something has been plotted out for me that has led me to this place at this time. I know in my heart of hearts that this is true. That belief doesn't make this transition easier and it doesn't make the fear subside. So hear I am, hurtling towards school with no hope or time to look back. Oh, by the way, did I mention that I'm going to LAW SCHOOL. YAY!

MY NEW PAL
I love the word pal. It's an endearing word implying a casualness and care free relationship. There is something informal and easy about the word, but it also includes a kind of closeness. Kids are pals. Gay boys and their straight girlfriends are pals. Two adult men in a sexual relationship, no matter how casual are not pals. Or so I have learned. There is a man in my life, someone I have known for a while. He said we were dating, I said we were pals. Synge told me that I made a faux pas, si I apologized. I will refer to him from now on as DH for reasons only he and I will ever know. I'm kind of crazy about him, so this surely means I'll be getting into school in Los Angeles anyday. Because life just loves to fuck with me like that.

I SAW THIS TRAILER
Went to see Art School Confidential. If you were in any sort of fine art program, you'll recognize all of the types. But before the movie we saw the trailer for Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette. Turn your speakers on and watch it. I think the combining of the modern elements, New Order's Age of Consent, with the period French scenes is fantastic.

THIS SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME
This documentary was turned into a very popular musical recently. The movie is legendary but was only just released on DVD. I don't know what's more frigtening, the film itself or Todd Oldham and John Bartlett talking about Little Edie as a style icon. Watching a car wreck indeed!

I was tagged (oh how I wish that meant something dirty)

2006-02-17T10:40:00.000-08:00

Four Jobs I've Had: Associate Producer, Box Office Slut, Events Coordinator, Waiter

Four Movies I Can Watch Repeatedly: American Beauty, Vacation, The Color Purple, Longtime Companion

Four Places I've Lived: Richmond, Virginia; Astoria, New York; Glen Cove, New York; Seattle, Washington

Four TV Shows I Love: Project Runway, Law and Order SVU, America's Next Top Model, can I say Project RUnway again?

Four Places I've Vacationed: Paris, Jerusalem, Venice, Munich

Four of My Favorite Dishes: Brussels Sprouts (the French way), Salmon with spinach (the French way), Tuna Sashimi wrapped in cucumber, Spaghetti with meat sauce

Four Sites I Visit Daily: Yahoo, All That Chat, Playbill, Law School Discussion.org

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now: Central Park, Paris, in the theatre, on a rollercoaster

Four Bloggers I am TAGGING: I don't think four people read my blog. Nobody knows I'm still writing it.

Here's a crazy thought

2006-02-16T14:28:00.000-08:00

The next time there is a Winter Olympics, I'll be a lawyer.

The acceptances have started to role in, so barring denial of a gigantic loan, I'll be knee deep in legal studies come Fall.

I'm chic? I'm trendy? I thought I was just me.

2006-01-18T08:59:00.000-08:00

Who knew that it was the year of the gay? All you had to do was look at the Golden Globes. From Brokeback Mountain to Capote to Transamerica, American cinema is gay, gay, gay. And if the movies are, by extension, a reflection of our culture, what does that say about the world we live in? Now I'm not ungrateful, I love the attention. I mean "gay" is the new "straight". But by reducing these films to the sexual orientations of their protagonists aren't we taking an enormous step backwards? What I admire about Brokeback Mountain is that it is extraordinary in its ordinariness. It is, at its core, a pure love story and one that we have seen and heard countless times. Romeo and Juliet, anyone? Capote, almost shockingly, avoids some of the more scurrilous facts of the main character's life and is quite vague about his relationship with one of the murderers he wrote about in In Cold Blood. Instead, the film focuses on the arrogance and narcissism that was such a huge destructive force in Capote's life. While I have not seen Transamerica, to equate transexuality with homosexuality implies a similarity where none exists and marginalizes two groups even further than they already have been. How far have we really come? I just don't want people to lose sight of these stories as a whole by reducing them to buzz words and sound bytes. If that continues to be the case, then surely I will go the way of gaucho pants and jelly shoes.

The one about the wounded man

2005-11-03T11:58:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday, I was invited to the premiere of The Dying Gaul, a film based on a play by Craig Lucas. Craig is, I think, one of those brilliant minds you hear spoken of often by academics and the like. I took Synge with me and she was very silent afterward. We both toked about the impact it made on us, but neither could really articulate what it was about. This frustrated me. I knew it affected me, but I couldn't figure out why. It hit me the next day. It is about, among other things, cruelty and compassion and how there is a very fine line that separates the two. I believe that this is true of life and it frightens me. The film also had one of the greatest lines I've heard in quite a while: "Hackers and thieves unlike screenwriters don't have to put their name all over everything." It was a fun night and I got to meet an acting legend, Marian Seldes. My few readers I'm sure don't know who she is. Google her. She is a marvel.

Also on Tuesday I got into a terrible fight with my mother. I have been feeling emotionally fragile as of late and she, as is her way, must inflict her cruelty and manipulation on me. It is a symptom of her own mental illness. I do not want to go into the details of the fight, except to say that I refuse to be emotionally abused by her anymore. Vix and her mother say that's it's a symptom of her depression. My mother's mental illness is not mine and having a relationship with her puts me in a deeply depressed state. Why would anyone inflict this on themselves. She sent me an email saying that she loved me and wanted to talk to me. I cannot and will not respond. She does not understand that her words have meaning and consequences. I know that Chanteuse may have harsh words for me, and Synge as well, but this is how I feel. I am saddened that it has come to this, but I am will not play the role of her emotional punching bag anymore. I have not been sleeping or eating for months and it is, in part, because of the anxiety she has caused me. I elect to stop it.

Finally, I found pictures of The Daft Punk online pleasuring himself. My favorite part, though, is the ad that accompanies the pictures. It says, "I'm LTR (long term relationship) oriented." Obviously. Nothing like a shot of your penis hanging out of a pair of gym shorts to say "You can bring me home to mom." For those who are interested, I'd be more than happy to forward a link.

The one about ...

2005-10-29T00:37:00.000-07:00

What to say? The blood of over 2,000 American soliders and tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians is on the hands of these criminals in Washington. It finally seems that this fucking haze that has settled over the country is starting to lift and we are seeing these monsters for who they truly are. Their Gestapo tactics are finally being exposed. First Libby. Next Rove. Then the fucking Chimp. Nothing really left to say. The state of the nation and the mounting body count speaks volumes.

The one about feeling and writing and forgiving

2005-10-29T00:20:00.000-07:00

Warning: This post may be filled with much self-pity and undervaluing of one's own abilities. Proceed with caution.

I am ashamed. I promised that I would be more diligent in my blogging and I haven't written in over a week and I feel terribly guilty. I offer the following post as some sort of explanation.

I have not heard from The Daft Punk and I deleted all of his phone numbers and emails. I could not contact him. I wouldn't know how. I am deeply hurt by the way he treated me and ended things and I'm not sure what to do about it. I can't wallow in self-pity, but if MAH is to be true to himself, he will refuse to allow him to get off the hook so easily. How Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction ("I will not be ignored, Dan"). I want him to feel bad. I want him to know that he hurt me. I want him to be ashamed of his behavior. Look, I have been rejected by my fair share of men. That's life, right? But when you're in your 30's and you've been dating for three months, the"never calling again" tactic is not acceptable. Aside from the fact, that I did like him and thought he liked me, it is, for me, more about feeling insignificant and rejected. I have a very difficult time meeting men. I am told that I send out "not interested" vibes. So, for me to meet someone and like them and want to see them again is very rare. My friends know that I have a very strong sense of right and wrong, this is both a strength and weakness, and it is wrong for someone to treat another human being like this. I cannot respect someone who doesn't have the balls to say what they feel and what they want and I don't feel that people who behave in this manner should get a fucking pass. You don't like me? I'll get over that. But the stimg that resulted from the manner in which you made me aware of that will not heal as quickly. So I'm pissed and I'm sad. No one has ever made me feel quite like that and it sucks. I feel like my therapist thinks I should call him and tell him this. I won't. I hate men. Well accept for friend's husbands, fiancees, and boyfriends, A,J,J,Marc, and Doc Harley.

Last Friday night, the highlight of which was meeting Doc Harley, who I really adore, I came home to find my LSAT score waiting in my email inbox. I won't reveal the score here, but I'm pleased, not ecstatic, but pleased. I scored higher on the real thing than I did on any of the diagnostics I took, so I guess that's good. So I can stop freaking out about that and start freaking out about something else: The Personal Statement. HELP!!!! I know what it can't be, but that leaves me with very little wiggle room as to what it can be. Basically, in two pages, I have to make the case for why I should be picked over 2,000 other applicants. I know what I bring to the table. I know I'm capable. So why is this so difficult? I have all of these ideas swirling around like a storm. I just need them to start intertwining with each other. I need to show the admissions committees how I think as oopposed to what I've done. It shouldn't be a biography and it shouldn't be my resume in prose. That's really hard. Synge says I'm overthinking it and undervaluing my abilities. She's right. I'm just not used to self reflection and that is what this exercise is all about. Thankfully, I have friends who are smart and good writers. Beware, drafts are on the way to all of you.

Finally, Vixanne and I were in a big fight. It's not important to rehash the details here. We hadn't spoken in about two weeks. She emailed me yesterday. I called her. It was as if nothing had happened. There's a familiarity between us that is both unnerving and comfortable. I can't imagine my life without it. I hope she can't either.

The one about My Big Fat Greek...Reception?

2005-10-18T12:27:00.000-07:00

I did something on Sunday that I'd never done.

I was invited to a wedding, but only attended the reception. Somehow, to me, that seemed like cheating, like some sort of lie. Did I earn the right to attend the party if I didn't attend the ceremony? In fairness, the ceremony was in the Bronx and the party was in New Rochelle- not exactly within walking distance of each other. I was told that it was not uncommon to just attend the reception and that the bride, in fact, did not except us to attend the ceremony. I figured it must be something the goyim do. Jews would never do this. For pleasure, in this case food and drink, we must endure, which means sitting through some endless service.

Greek weddings are steeped in tradition. I think even more so that Jewish weddings. There was lots of folk dancing which went on for several hours. At one point the bride's mother pulled me into the dance circle, which I thought would be fun until I looked down and realized that there were actual steps involved rather than just randomly kicking and galloping in a circle. I faked it well enough. Old men danced together in the center of the room. I bet that they had grown up together. Could they have imagined when they were young in Greece that they would end up celebrating a wedding of one of their children decades later in Westchester New York?

This was an event steeped in ritual, in history. They spoke English and Greek. They sang Don't Cry for Me Argentina, which I thought was very strange. Members of the wedding party were assigned roles unfamiliar to me. Is this what it must be like for a non-Jew to stumble into a Jewish Wedding?

I was jealous of this close, large family. I don't have that. I haven't spoken to my cousins in years. I can't even remember the names of their children. I don't speak to my brothers nearly as often as I should. Our family just wasn't like that. I often wonder whether we have placed importance on things that aren't so important at the expense of forgetting things like family. I was reminded of this while I toasted my friend's joy. I thought of the people who, should I have a wedding, I would not be able to introduce, who I would not consider inviting for no other reason than the fact that I never thought it important to maintain those ties. Those people are strangers to me. I can never get that time back.

Oh, and a word of advice. Never, ever omit place cards from your wedding reception . Your guests will have no idea where to sit.

The One About The Nields

2005-10-16T09:05:00.000-07:00

Have any of my readers heard of The Nields? They are fantastic. Went to see them with some friends on Friday and thought they were great. They reminded me of Indigo Girls, but with more humor. One of them recently wrote a young adult novel called Plastic Angel and the duo, who are sisters, released a soundtrack to the book. Pretty cool! They are definitely worth checking out. A more detailed blog entry about The Daft Punk, Yom Kippur, and the Big Fat Greek Wedding I am attending this evening is forthcoming.

The One about the Daft Punk

2005-10-06T11:31:00.000-07:00

As most of the few people who read my blog know, I have been seeing someone very casually for the last several months. My friend J dubbed him The Daft Punk and I like that name, though I'm not sure it's wholly appropriate. Let's just say that he's more daft than punk. I would shorten his name to DP for the sake of brevity, but, as DP is a common abbreviation for double penetration, I will use his full name, The Daft Punk.

The Daft Punk responded to a personal ad I had posted on match.com and while I wasn't initially grabbed by his picture, his honesty completely turned me on. He wrote in one of his first emails to me, "I have very few boundaries, in case you couldn't already tell." I loved that. I still didn't have high hopes for our date, looking at it as a way to waste a couple of hours until I could be back in the comfort of my apartment watching Christopher Meloni brood on Law and Order SVU. Well I met him and his picture didn't do him justice at all. And when he left my apartment the next morning, I wasn't even regretting the fact that I should have set my VCR to tape L & O.

We've been out several times since and slept together a couple of times. But here's the thing. Are we dating? I don't know and we've never talked about it. I like spending time with him. We laugh. I am very attracted to him. Initially, I kind of liked this idea that we're "pals", "friends with benefits". But now I'm not so sure. He will ask me if I've met anyone recently on match and then tell me about new websites he's discovered such as www.dudesnude.com

Over Labor Day, I took him to see a play that I knew he wanted to see. It was kind of an awkward night. For some reason, I felt a little nervous around him. I think I was reacting to a vibe he was giving off. Anyway. I don't hear from him for about a week or two and when I sent him an email, he wrote back, "I was totally getting this vibe that you were blowing me off." Huh?? I was blowing you off so I spent $150 on theatre tickets? If that was the vibe I put out and that mattered to you, why wouldn't you call me to discuss it, to bitch me out, whatever?

What the fuck?

And then I, like the weak desperate man-boy I can often be, apologize for this behavior, when the accusation to begin with was such bullshit. Uggghhh.... Sometimes I hate myself for doing stuff like that. It's like I gave in, because I thought if I challenged him, he would blow me off. And that's the rub. For some reason, I feel like this guy is too good for me. Too attractive, too focused, too with it and together. Therefore, I'll tolerate just about anything, particularly because I don't know where I stand. There is a risk, though, in having this talk, in attaching a name to something, in calling this what it may or may not be. And there are expectations, and I don't know if I'm ready for someone to expect anything from me, and, at the same time, I don't know if I could handle moving forward without any expectations placed on me. Part of me desperately wants to rock the boat with the knowledge that it could tip over and sink. My friend T asks why I can't just enjoy this. But I can enjoy it, I plead, I just want to see all of his cards. I'll show him mine. Who has no boundaries now?

MAH Resurrected: My Shamelessly Shaggable

2005-10-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

I'm baaaack! Synge convinced me to come out of retirement and post my list of shamelessly shaggable. I'm not sure what that means. But here's my list of five, I think, unconventional hotties. They get my mind (and loins) going.
Bill Murray: I love his talent. I love his face. He looks broken and wrecked to me. There is a sadness that he seems to carry with him that I, shamefully, find really sexy.

Tim Roth: He's like a straight Alan Cumming. Intense and short. A bundle of sexy in a nice compact package. Yum.

Jonathan Couette: Made the movie Tarnation which is kind of brilliant. He lives in New York and is gay! Alas, he has a boyfriend.

Kevin Spacey: What kind of list would this be without Kevin. I see him and I melt. He has this rebellious quality that I love. He looks normal, but there's something just a little off, a little dangerous.

Philip Seymour Hoffman: And I will be yet another to jump on the PSH bandwagon. PSH would be the perfect boyfriend...for a straight girl. Unless he wouldn't. In which case, call me.

So there it is. My not so secret list.

The one about The Gates and Big Knockers or Something for Vixanne to Read Because She's Bored

2005-02-20T19:56:00.000-08:00

Today, I went to see The Gates in Central Park with my friend Teacher2be. For those who have been living under a rock, The Gates 1979-2005 is a public art installation that winds its way over 23 miles of Manhattan's Central Park. The installation consists of 7500 saffron colored gates that are about 16 feet high, pieces of drapery hangs down about seven feet from each gate. It was created at a cost of around 20 million dollars by a pair of artists named Christo and Jean Claude.

So, we went. We walked through part of it. I didn't get it. No, wait, I take that back. I don't think there was anything to get. Teacher2be thought it was a waste of time and money, particularly with the sorry state of our economy and the seriousness of world events. I'm not sure I agree. What The Gates has done is brought a city together and that is is no easy feat. As a friend of Synge's posted on her blog, this is the first time in recent memory that residents of this area and visitors to our beautiful city have come en masse to see something that wasn't a huge hole that contained the smoldering remains of thousands. I appreciate and respect the amount of time it took to construct The Gates. It certainly is impressive. But what I really loved about it and what I keep thinking about is that millions of people will have come to walk under these weird things in the middle of winter and contemplate what it means and how it was done and perhaps, for an afternoon or an hour, laugh and smile and stare and think and, just maybe, forget about the sorry state of our economy and the seriousness of world events. For me, that is the real achievement of The Gates 1979-2005.

Then, my companion and I went searching for somewhere to lunch. Everything around Central Park was crowded so we walked towards midtown and decided to eat at Hooters. Hooters you ask? Yes, Hooters. Now, I must confess, I have never been to Hooters. Big surprise! I've never had the desire to eat at Hooters. But, I was starving and really need to pee, so off to Hooters we went. Let me just say this. The bathrooms at Hooters are absolutely disgusting. People were there with small children. Our waitress was very kind and informed us that she was wearing a water bra. The shorts that the waitresses have to wear show lots of ass. Our waitress said the money there wasn't that great and the New Yorkers really don't like Hooters. The food wasn't awful. It was sort of like eating at Kings Dominion. It's outrageously expensive. Teacher2be and I took a picture with our waitress which I think I may blow up and hang over my desk. Hmmm...maybe I'll have my birthday party there!

The one about the ex (Happy Days?)

2005-02-06T13:38:00.000-08:00

Last night Synge invited me to see a production of Samuel Beckett's Happy Days. If you want to feel really stupid, go see a Beckett play and then wait for someone to ask you what it was about. Fortunately, I had read the play and studied it a little in college so I knew what was going on and felt that its ideas dealing with ritual and memory were extremely relevant to the times we're living in. Still, Beckett isn't my favorite.

But this isn't the point of my post.

As I was standing outside waiting for Synge, I saw my friend K sitting in the lobby. So, I opened the door to the theatre to say hello to him and the first person I see is my ex. I'd like to call my ex, Asswipe. Though that name implies some deep hostility, which I really don't have, I like the word and I think that's what he is. So, I open the door and see Asswipe and instinctually, shut the door and say to myself, "Oh fuck". You see, Asswipe and I were together for about 4 years, we lived together for a time and by the time the relationship ended, things had gotten pretty bad. We've been broken up for about six years and though we live in the same neighborhood, we rarely see each other. Before last night, I had not seen Asswipe for about a year.

So, I go in and start talking to K and his friend S and Synge finally arrives. As we walk to our seats, I see that we are sitting right in front of Asswipe and his date. So when I get to my seat, I turn around and lean toward Asswipe and say, "Excuse me." No reaction. No answer. So I repeat myself and at this point, the date taps Asswipe and indicates someone is speaking to him. He looks up, I extend my hand and say "How are you?" I then introduce him to Synge. Asswipe pauses, then introduces me to his date.

The play started. When it was over Asswipe left without even saying anything to me. No goodbye. Nothing. He just darted out of the theatre.

I'm not sure why this bothered me so much. I guess, it's just that I'm a decent person and he's not and though I know that behavior is a reflection on him, I feel like it says something about me. There's long history there and I can't deny that or pretend it doesn't exist. Regardless, if I see someone who I know, I'm going to be decent and mature and it bugs the shit out of me when that isn't reciprocated. Asswipe was my first love and I always thought that I would hold a special place in my heart for him. But when I saw him last night, I realized that that wasn't true. Maybe it's because time and distance have provided clarity. Maybe it's because knowing and then not knowing someone wreaks havoc on the frailty of the human heart. Maybe it's because memory is not as powerful or forgiving as I thought.

But I didn't let him ruin my night and Synge and I had a fab time. Currently, I am nursing a hangover from a terrible mixture of Riesling, Apple Martini, and Abosulut Mandarin and Tonic. Not mixed together, but in rapid succession. Must take aspirin now. Happy Days indeed!

The one about the sex addict

2005-01-31T16:00:00.000-08:00

I frequently visit and post on a website called Talkin Broadway, which is a message board to discuss theatre and Broadway. Check it out here http://www.talkinbroadway.com/allthatchat . Some of these people are freaks, but I love it. I know, it's pretty queer. Anyway, someone posted on the message board requesting feedback on a show in London called Tim Fountain: Sex Addict. Someone posted back saying that he was a 22 year old homosexual and he and his friends had seen it and were really offended by the show. So, naturally, I had to visit Tim Fountain's website to see what the fuss was about.

So, here is what I learned.

Tim Fountain: Sex Addict is a performance piece that is being presented at the very prestigious Royal Court Theatre in London. And this is what happens during the show. There is a website, http://www.timfountainsexaddict.com where you log in and create a profile with a picture, like an online personal ad. When the show starts, people who have online profiles go into a chat room where they can chat with Tim. Then, Tim asks who wants to shag tonight. Then, he'll ask who wants to call him tonight. Then the audience, who this is all happening in front of, chooses someone for Tim to shag. Tim, then gives the person a telephone number and they call in to the show and he talks to them. This is repeated with several people calling in. You are asked where you live and if you live too far away then the audience can't vote for you. But, if you live close enough to the theatre or Tim's apartment, you can be in the running. But you will need to be able to meet up with Tim within an hour and get home after the shag. Then, Tim asks the audience if anyone in the theatre wants to shag. Finally, the audience votes on who gets the shag. The winner is then given Tim's phone number, I think, or his address or you give him your address, and the meeting is arranged for that evening. Now, I think that Tim videotapes the encounter, as it was alluded to on the website and I guess he shows it to the audience the next night. Though I'm not sure about this last part. You can go on the message boards on the website and read Tim's review of his shags as well as review's of Tim's...umm...performance by people he has shagged.

Ok, is this the most fucked up thing, ummm...I don't know...ever? I'm not sure whether to be repulsed or turned on. Both perhaps? Part of me thinks I would totally do this, though my friend Moss thinks I'm much to modest. He's right. I guess that this is an interesting social commentary about the blurring of personal and private, simply exposing (pun intended) sexual behavior that is incredibly common and creating a forum to discuss and, I guess, celebrate it. Something about this seems so liberating. I don't know. And it's not the idea of disease that frightens me about this, it's the danger Tim is putting himself in. The producer part of me is terrified of the insurance and legal issues that might arise out of this.

Ok blogging friends out there, would you participate in this? And do you think this would go over well in America? I imagine it won't be long before Fountain makes it to our shores.

The one about the secret

2005-01-22T18:56:00.000-08:00

Last night, I went to Princeton, New Jersey to see a new play called The Secret in the Wings. The play was written and directed by a Chicago based artist named Mary Zimmerman. Mary is one of the most talented people working in the theatre today. Several years ago, my office produced her play Metamorphoses, which was an adaptation from Ovid set in and around a swimming pool, on Broadway. Anyway, I am a huge fan of her work. The Secret in the Wings is framed by the story of Beauty and the Beast and incorporates several obscure fairy tales. The way that the play is structured is that it tells the beginning of one tale, then stops and begins another. Then in the middle, one story is told all the way through. In the second half, the end of the stories are all told in reverse order. So by the end, we are told the ending of the first story. It really is a remarkable achievement. What I loved about it was that it revealed the macabre and dark elements of these stories. It told stories that have been co-opted as children's literature in a very adult kind of way. I have linked to the play's website here http://www.mccarter.org/thesecretinthewings/sitw.htm. Turn your sound on as the music is gorgeous. If you click on photos, you'll see a really neat slideshow from the piece with the haunting sound design. It really was visually striking and I know that some of the images will probably stay with me forever. Vixanne, even though you hate plays, you would love this.

The one about the coronation (or thoughts on the end of the world)

2005-01-20T11:15:00.000-08:00

A coronation is defined as the act or ceremony of crowning a sovereign or the sovreign's consort. Though we are told that we live in a democracy and that freedom is valued above all else, there is a coronation happening in Washington D.C. today, or, as I like to call it, a forty million dollar pep rally, for the man who will leave his mark on history, if there are even people around to study history, as the person who began the tangible destruction of the world.

Now, I'm not really a political person, I guess becuase I consider myself a pretty normal person and I think most people share the same core values and beliefs I do. We're all people after all, right? Well, this is a naive and limited world view I am afraid. Today, I cannot think of one person I know whose life is not touched in some way by the policies and views of the monster sitting in the White House. Now, he would have you believe that he's just a good old Texas boy who loves his country and the people who live in it. This is a lie and it is truly frightening. This administration has systematically attacked the rights of women, gays and lesbians, the elderly, children, immigrants, and even the military. No one is safe. And it's not the big bad terrorists we have to fear in the near future. It is our government. Wait, are these two enemies just one in the same?

There is a fascinating article in this week's Village Voice http://www.villagevoice.com/news/0503,perlstein,60130,6.html that talks about, among other things, how Bush's proposed overhaul of Social Security will give the government carte blanche in a host of other areas, and anyone who voices dissent will be accused of harming your retirement fund. Does this scare you? It should. Oh, dear reader there are so many things to be afraid of now.

The next time someone tells you how wonderful Bush II is, ask them if they are willing to send their father, their husband, their brother to Iraq to fight this war. How much safer will you feel, with your loved ones there? But I propose something different. Rather than having his daughters parade around Washington in designer gowns, or posing in Vanity Fair, why doesn't W send his daughters to Baghdad. While I'm sure they are needed in the D.C. school system, I think we need them more in Iraq. Don't you agree? Wouldn't that be the ultimate statement of support for this war and their father's policies? Send them over there if this battle is so important.

In the meantime, enjoy coronation day. Now remind me again, what did they do while the Titanic was sinking? Oh right, they played music and danced.

The one where I go all kinds of crazy over Project Runway

2005-01-12T13:30:00.000-08:00

Project Runway is a new reality show on Bravo. It airs on Wednesday nights at 9pm and for those of you not watching, I suggest you start doing so immediately. The concept is simple. A search was done for the twelve top undiscovered fashion designers in the United States. These twelve people are brought to New York, given posh digs and studio space at Parsons. Every week they have a challenge and are judged by a panel including Michael Kors, who seems like such a bitter sad queen, Nina Garcia, who is the fashion director at Elle Magazine and is such a raving bitch she must be seen to be believed, a guest judge and host Heidi Klum, whose inability to grasp the English language is simply baffling. After the judging, someone is declared the winner, they get immunity in the next challenge, and someone is out. At the end, the final three contestants will each get a show during Fashion Week in NYC. The winner gets a spread in Elle Magazine, a mentorship with a Banana Republic design team and $100,000 to start their own line. The contestants include:

Daniel- He got voted out in the first episode where they had to make outfits from stuff you would buy in a grocery store. He tailored a jacket from butcher paper then binded the edges with tin foil and it looked like, well...butcher paper with foil on it. Plus, he was all new new agey and spouted this bullshit about "finding your bliss". Good riddance.

Mario- Mario was voted out in episode two where they had to use cotton jersey to create an outfit with the word ENVY as inspiration. Now, I liked Mario. He had a "fuck you" kind of attitude that I thought was cute. But, he was lazy and the judges called him on it. Bye Mario!

Starr- This basket case was voted out in week three where they had to design a holiday party dress for Banana Republic. Starr's outfit loooked like a chorus dress from a community theatre production of Chicago. When she got booted, she flipped out. Was it really that much of a surprise Starr?

Vanessa- Vanessa was great. She was British and a bit older than most of the others. Vanessa seemed to be very successful in her own right and her designs were great. But last week, they had to work on teams to create a rock and roll outfit. This was hard for Vanessa because it wasn't her design they were constructing and she isn't a good sewer. When the judges asked each contestant who should be out, Vanessa said her own name. How fucking stupid! So out she went.

Alexandra- Alexandra is from Florida. She's young and pretty and so boring. No wonder she doesn't get any time on camera.

Robert- Robert is a women's tailor. He's very good looking and completely goofy. The way he emphasizes words when he speaks is hysterical. I like Robert. He seems nice. But his work doesn't stand out and he won't make it to fashion week.

Nora- Nora has a mohawk. She's the youngest one there. She is certainly talented, but her inexperience manifests itself in her immature behavior. Last week, during the rock and roll challenge, Nora walked out of the studio in a huff while her team was on deadline and spent the rest of the time crying. I don't think Nora will be around much longer. She may be in the final five.

Austin- Austin Scarlett is the biggest queen I've ever seen. He makes me look like Tom Selleck. His background is in theatrical costume design and it shows. His work, while beautiful, isn't really realistic and while I think he has endeared himself to the viewers, he'll probably be the next to go.

Wendy- Wendy is the oldest contestant. She always talks about her strategy which is so stupid. There is no strategy on this show. The decisions are in the hands of the judges, not the contestants you asshole. After a rocky start, Wendy has shown that she is capable of good work, but I don't think it leaves much of an impression. Plus, I just don't like her.

Kevin- Fashion apparently is Kevin's family's business. So he is one of the more skilled competitors. He's also been listed on the show as being both 37 years old and 44. Hmmm. His designs are consistently lovely and last week he won (which was a bogus decision, but anyway). He'll be in the final 3.

Kara Saun- Kara Saun has designed clothes for some pretty famous people. She seems to be the most skilled technician of all of them and her designs are innovative and wearable. She's great. Everyone calls her Kara Saun when they refer to her which is weird. I mean, that's her first and last name. She'll be in the final 3 and she might win.

Jay- Jay is my favorite. I looove Jay. He's big and loud and smokes and wears huge sunglasses and Pucci print scarves on his head and mink stoles and...he's just great. Jay's style is punk rock, edgy fabulousness. He should have won the Banana Republic challenge and he should have won the rock and roll challenge. He didn't, but I predict he'll win the whole competition and that's all that really counts. Here's the link to his site http://www.jaymccarroll.com I don't like his men's clothes and the picture of the dude at the toilet is just weird.

I think the reason I love this show so much, aside from the fact that it's so fucking gay, is that the contestants on it have real skill. They can do something that a majority of the population can't and they do it really well. Also, Heidi Klum has her own catchphrases, like before the judging she always says "In fashion you're either in or you're out. Tonight one of you will be the winner. The other will be out." And after someone is booted, they have to shake Heidi's hand and she says "Aufwiedersein" (is that how you spell it??) For sheer camp value alone, it's priceless. Anyway, I've written way to much about this, plus, it's on tonight and it's the wedding dress challenge. Tune in, there will be a quiz tomorrow.

The one where I wax about Vixanne

2005-01-12T11:52:00.000-08:00

Ok. So my last post wasn't intended to be about Synge, but I had to explain where the name Mr. Artsy Hotpants came from and well, I just sort of went off. But, I meant everything I said about her. In the ineterest of equal time and so I can give you, dear reader, a sense of the people in my life, this post is dedicated to Vixanne. After this one, I swear, I'll get on to discussing more pressing things like Project Runway (the best TV show ever), and my upcoming weekend in Chicago.

I have been friends with Vixanne for 14 years. Jesus! We met in high school. I thought she dressed neat. She exceled at something I didn't, which was writing. I thought she was the coolest. I mistook that for burgeoning love which was confessed in a Hardee's Drive Thru (no need to relive the event- those reading this already know the details). We were inseperable for years. There was a time in college where we weren't so close, but I don't remember a whole lot about that time. Gosh, I keep writing that I don't remember so much about my college years that it makes me sound like a complete stoner or drunk. I was neither. Just boy crazy.

Vixanne knows absolutely everything about me. Everything. She knows me better than anyone except maybe my mother. And though she doesn't like to hear it, I know her. It's weird. I think we have this intuitive understanding of each other that we never talk about but has actually grown deeper over the years. We have a bond that is difficult to verbalize, but it's comfortable and valued and reassuring and sometimes a pain in the ass. It isn't always fun to have someone in your life who can call you on your shit all the time and be right about it almost all the time.

I love Vixanne becuase I can tell her anything and always know that she'll judge it. People who say they don't judge are so full of shit. I love Vixanne because she snagged just about the best man on the planet and she deserved it. Given her history with men, I actually find this feat truly amazing! I love Vixanne because she looks at the world through the same jaded lense I do. And she laughs about it. I love Vixanne becuase she still believes the world is full of possibility. But I guess I love Vixanne the most, because I never doubt for a second that she always has my back (that makes her sound like a badass which she is definitely not). I don't know how you can go through life otherwise.

Vixanne has been going through some serious stuff recently. Grown up shit. Adult problems. Stuff that when she told me about it, I was embarrassed to ask myself, "How does one be a grown up friend?" Her baby died. Is that right? Is that the proper way to say it? I find I can't ask her these things. Dealing with this is a huge leap from discussing how long H&M clothes really last and the morality of the latest outcast from Survivor Vanuatu. When she told me, I cried. I never, ever cry. So what do I do? How does one be a grown up friend? I guess I'm just me. I listen. I talk. I make jokes. And for now, I hope, that seems to be enough.

The one that is my first

2005-01-11T11:49:00.000-08:00

As I write this, my first post, I keep hearing these lines from Gypsy "Here she is boys. Here she is world..." then, I like to add, Mr. Artsy Hotpants. It's strange putting yourself out here like this and it's even stranger for me as those who know me can attest, a quick witticism and a flip aside are always preferred over discussing emotions or anything that would show even the slightest bit of my vulnerability. But it's a new year and maybe I should get more in touch with my inner self, turn over a new leaf, as they say, and see what I find.

I was dubbed Mr. Artsy Hotpants by my dear friend Synge. Synge is someone who I sort of knew in high school. We were in the same group, I guess, but I never considered her a close friend or anything. We then went to college together, for a short time at least, I think. Those years are such a blur to me. Then, we fell completely out of touch. A little over a year ago, she moved to NYC. I called her, because I didn't know if she knew anybody, and she came over for dinner. I remember that night vividly, and I remember wondering why did I never actually talk to her before. I mean really talk. Or did I and just couldn't remember.

We've become good friends and I admire her tremendously. One night recently, we were walking in Union Square and I looked at her and noticed two things. One, she is indescribably beautiful. I don't know if it was her hair, or the way the cold air kind of illuminated her face or the green coat she wears that I love. The other thing I noticed or, should I say, occured to me, is that she has this incredible sense of who she is. In a way, it seemed tangible, like anybody who got close to her would know this instantly. Was it her walk? The way her boots pounded the sidewalk like an emphatic yes. The way her jewelry seemed to wear her, like her ring winking out from behind her cigarette proud to show off whose hand she was adorning. Did anyone else see this?

For a person who doesn't have that same sense of self, a revelation that someone does can really knock you on your ass. She might not know where she is going, but if you asked her right now who she is, I have no doubt she could tell you. In detail. And it would be eloquent and thoughtful. And true. And I think that's pretty cool.