Jan. 19th, 2004

raybear: (sexy!)
In general I avoid just the straight up recall list of weekend activities, but sometimes this is a journal and I like to have a record of things I did. But, I will make it short and save long philosophical commentary because I'm not in the mood.


I helped out with the Drag/Burlesque show at University of Chicago which went well and had only a few standout moments other than just general goodness of seeing lovely friends (specifically ones who lovingly rub my head for a long time). I got to chat briefly with my two favorite Prince Fans, as featured in previous journal entries. I also performed Casanova again, which I swear, I love that act but I'm starting to think it's cursed, because every time I perform it there's always some sort of sound/DJing crisis moments before which causes crazy high anxiety adrenaline boost. But, despite me forgetting a major prop (big up to [livejournal.com profile] louche for rescuing my a$$) and a miscommunication about running sound with [livejournal.com profile] inthealong, I made it on stage and things were going quite well until suddenly, in this strange moment, somewhere halfway through the song, I looked out into the big empty darkness of blank faces (or so it seemed) and actually had an intense moment of stage fright. Something I have not experienced in years. I only physically froze for about 1.5 seconds, which went unnoticed since I spend most of the act tied up and unable to move anyway.

Afterwards my body was so sleepy but my brain was so wanting to go out to the Prop House. I'm so glad I ignored my body. I could write a whole entry about the Prop House and how in love I am with it and how I want to go there every Friday night. But I won't do that now.


Lunch with Miss Rook. Came home frozen and sleepy. Took a nap, ate pizza with Lowenstein before she went out, then spent the majority of the evening listening to music and playing The Sims, a "hobby" I've neglected for the better part of last year. Later that evening got into a bit of a scrap, except not the kind where one really throws punches, though sometimes I think those might hurt less.


Got woken up at 9 am by the phone and never fully fell back asleep. Tried unsuccessfully to nap several times during the day but my body would not cooperate -- I swear I used to be a deep sleep-er who was borderline narcoleptic and could sleep ten hours in a row every night. Now I'm a light sleep-er who has trouble napping. I don't think I like it. So I watched the movie Roger Dodger instead which had it's moments, especially during the scenes with Jennifer Beals and Elizabeth Berkeley. Then I went to [livejournal.com profile] vfc's for our soon to be monthly Trivial Pursuit tournament where we were unceremoniously trounced by [livejournal.com profile] limenal though I think I was unofficially second place.


No work today. Finally got a long full night's sleep, even with Sophie being crazy needy and whiney. Now I'm trying to get motivated to either organize my closet or read Proust.
raybear: (Wiley)
The subject line is courtesy of the closet organizer I bought last week. Next to a picture of the product and an inset photo that looks like a man opening up a gift box with a sweater and a woman standing behind him. I think it was supposed to be in their christmas catalog but they got lazy and slapped it on the shelving picture.

While I'm bothered by the whole "happy housewife" sentiment of the statement, I can't help but think it's a little true. When my mind's a wreck, my house becomes a wreck and then they feed on each other. This past week has been a weird purgatory period -- I've been slowly, slowly, getting my shit together, and yet, and yet, I wouldn't quite commit to certain projects. As if I hadn't quite convinced myself I really was moving forward. But yesterday I decided it was time to buck up and just be a man about it, like Toni Braxton says. Okay, that's not really how I give myself pep talks, but the point is made. I've been crossing off items in my imaginary to-do list for a couple hours and now I'm taking a break to write and eat.

In the midst of my own special "change your life" day, I have lots of thoughts and talks outloud to myself. I mean, that's the whole point of time alone, but what always amuses me is the non-deep stuff that pops up from my subconscious. Today I decided I wanted an internet porn movie database so when you see an actor you like in a movie you can find out other movies they're in -- I'm not talking about the big stars but more the 2nd and 3rd tier porn stars. I did a quick search on google but didn't find much. I mean, have you tried including the word "porn" in an internet search?

I just hung one of my Rothko prints over my turntables. It hasn't quite survived too well -- two moves, being exposed to direct sunlight for a couple years. But it was a gift from [livejournal.com profile] thebrownhornet in addition to it being, as mentioned, a Rothko print. His prints are ridiculous. They're artwork for matching couches and curtains and rarely evoke any of the sentiment of the original pieces. Except I'm lucky enough to have seen most of the original paintings. The prints are postcards from myself from standing in museums in galleries, facing the wall where they hang and finding myself absorbed and transfixed and overwhelmed in the best way possible. As simple reminders of those moments, they are not ridiculous.

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