A Child Of Atom

I don't get to sketch a lot of children, mainly because they rarely sit still long enough. Unless they are sleeping or extraordinarily absorbed in something I have little chance to get them onto paper because they squirm around. This little guy, on the other hand, was one of the single most well behaved children I have ever witnessed. He had one of those looks, the kind that would cause most people to term him an "old soul." He sat stock still beside his father, with one hand on his father's knee and the other in his lap for the whole long trip between 42nd street and 145th. For most of the trip he stared at an imaginary point between us, with a small grin on his face contemplating some mystery that the rest of the world will never know about. It was a joy to try and capture that look on paper. This sketch is already one my favorites from this second sketchbook.

The reality. The subject of my sketch is the barely visible man in the rigging of that ship. I put in the giant green hand to help you find him.

The sketch.

There are times when my love for this city are severely tested.

Like right now, when at 11:55 p.m. a city utility crew begins jack hammering the middle of the goddamn street in front of my goddamn apartment.

Judging by the location of the crew I am guessing that this is the new waterline for the brownstone next door. I love the woman for refurbishing the former crack den in a truly stunning way... but jackhammers I can do without.

There's a front-loader and two dump trucks down there. Ugh.

Today I saw my third movie in three days. Prime, The Weatherman, and Elizabethtown. One of the many things that movies have in common is the fairly standard cinematic device of the montage scene. You know which one I mean, it usually occurs about two thirds of the way through the movie, when the lead character is at their lowest, just before they make the decision, or perform the action that will set the final act of the movie into motion. It is scored by some sentimental song, most often these days by Ryan Adams, and we see the character walking through a city, then sitting by a window with rain on it, then and then silhouetted against a sunset. The scene ends with the character shot in profile, then looking up into the camera with a look of resolve.

I feel as though I've been trapped in my own personal montage scene for about a week now. I have the feeling that there's a change coming, or a decision to be made, or a choice around the corner somewhere. I'm not sure why, there's nothing like that scheduled to happen that I know of, no impending decisions or events, but the feeling remains.

I hope it's something good.

We had been told to meet in front of the fish market, a notorious mob location, where we'd be given our assignment and a "package" to deliver. A mob boss needed help, and wanted us to do it. After all, we would never be suspected by the feds, so we could get this done with a minimum of trouble. We collected the goods and our first clue from our contact and set out on a long walking tour of lower Manhattan. This was Accomplice: New York, a live interactive theatrical event that we were participants in.

Last week Roommate K asked me if I'd like to join him and several of his friends from work for this little excursion. It sounded like a lot of fun, so bought my ticket and joined in the adventure.

For three hours we tracked over Chinatown, Little Italy, and the area surrounding City Hall solving clues, performing missions and interacting with actors and the owners and workers of various stores and bars who would then send us on our way towards a new adventure.

It was a fun time, a few overly easy clues, a few that took a little prompting from the actors in order to get us headed in the right direction. Certainly an activity or two that I wouldn't have done otherwise, (purchasing a live animal in Chinatown? Not something I'd have considered doing before!). You definitely have to get yourself into the mindset of a slightly campy fun romp through a series of increasingly ridiculous situations. Along the way we were also treated to some uniquely New York moments, the homeless man who asked one of the actors for money, the diminutive Chinese woman who forced her way through crowded streets by yelling "Beep, Beep, Beep" over and over, the owner of the doll shop who was a bit too into her part, some of which were parts of the adventure, some of which were random occurrences that we only THOUGHT were part of everything. In the end it was a unique New York day that I was happy to have been a part of. I'd recommend it to anyone who wanted a cool new look at the city, and maybe a little touch of adventure.

Walking down the street today I caught myself crying. I'm not sure why, I wasn't particularly depressed, or sad. I wasn't particularly in any mood that I could pin down. It didn't last long, basically once I realized that it was happening it stopped, and afterwards I felt at once relieved and slightly ridiculous for walking down the streets of Manhattan with tears on my face. It's one of the vagaries of human emotion that we often don't know what causes certain reactions. This was certainly one of those times. It's not difficult to make me cry really. I routinely cry at movies, and have been known to catch a lump in my throat from the odd commercial, or even a game show if the winner seems endearing enough. I decided to see if a bit of catharsis was in order, so I went to see "Shopgirl." The book had been one of my favorite reads of that year, and had made me cry quite a bit as I recalled. The movie, while good, and featuring some stunning performances, didn't carry the same emotional impact for me. I left the theater dry eyed. Maybe I had just cried it all out earlier.

My desperation earlier this week to get out of the country and do something continues to plague my thoughts, but I'm feeling much more settled about things now that I've decided to make it happen.

The unfortunate news is that I accepted a show for the week that I was originally planning, so I'll have to be in NYC for Christmas day, and the following week, regardless of how I feel about it. The good news is that when I told BFE Michelle that I was considering going to Peru and hiking from Cuzco to Machu Picchu her curiousity was piqued. Seems that she's been craving this sort of a trip as well. For years we've discussed doing something similar to this in the Yucattan, as well as the possibility of the Appalachian trail. I sent her all the information that I had on the trip earlier this week so that she could peruse it for herself and see what she thought. If she decides to go I would reschedule the trip for mid-January, if she doesn't then I think I will still go alone and leave NYC on the 30th of December. This is the kind of thing that I have wanted to do for a few years now, not only visiting the ruins of another civilization, but hiking for 4 days to get there. I need the adventure of that right now I think. Reckon the tour guide will mind me stopping to sketch occassionally?

This morning Gothamist featured a link to a Dutch site geared towards raising money towards international poverty. It's a pretty ingenious site. By entering your own yearly income you can see where you sit in the global scheme of richest and poorest people in the world. The hope of the site is that by seeing where you fall you will realize that you have more money than you think, and that you will donate to their cause.

My income, as a freelancer in the arts, is barely above what the US Government defines as poverty, but by international standards I am in the top 10% of richest people in the world! There are 5,398,344,113 people in the world who make less money than me. If a global list was made I would be the 601,655,887th richest person in the world.

It does help to put things in perspective a bit.

Check out your own wealth!

For the first time ever a show that I was a part of has been reviewed in the New York Times.

Granted, I'm not mentioned at all, and it's reviewed as part of an article about events for children this weekend, rather than having a stand alone review, but still! The Times!! How fucking cool is THAT!?

When I was sketching this image the baby was initially asleep, but a big lurch of the train woke him and he started to cry. A woman to my left that I hadn't noticed was watching me started whispering across the aisle to the mother, telling her that I was doing a "nice drawing" of her child and that she should try to calm him so that I could finish. I guess my benefactor figured that I couldn't hear her because I had my iPod playing. The mother ignored her, as well as the crying baby. I shifted the focus of my sketch to details of the stroller, and other things, waiting for the child to settle down again. In a few seconds he miraculously calmed, but was turned in a different direction, staring intently at my benefactor. I looked up from my sketch to see what she had done to capture the baby's imagination so intensely. There, in the middle of the D train, this woman had reached into her purse and pulled out a parakeet. She sat there with this small green bird on her finger, stroking it's wings, and holding it out for the baby to watch. After a few minutes she gently ushered the bird back into her bag, and the now pacified baby settled back into a fairly close approximation of his original position. I finished the sketch, but would have loved to have sketched the woman with her bird.

Lunch today: Fried egg and scrapple sandwich, on white bread with mayo (Duke's of course) and sweet tea.

Yum!

My sister called me today to update me on the holiday plans for the family. We have started a semi-tradition of traveling as a family for the holidays. This year my mom and sister and brother in=law have decided to visit me in the city rather than all of us going elsewhere as we did last year. The problem is that they are coming early in the month because they both have classes and finals to deal with later.

BFE Michelle has decided that she is traveling to her home state of Alabama for the holidays.

That leaves me... well... nowhere.

Today I decided that I wasn't happy about that. I of course have a standing offer to go to Alabama or home to my mom's. I could probably find somewhere to be in Savannah. Roommate K invited me to go with him to Philly today. But while having lunch with Alison today my mind latched onto an idea that I can't let go of: going Somewhere.

Somewhere, with a capital 'S.' Paris, or Rome, or Prague, or Cairo, or Istanbul, or Athens. I've checked prices to all of those places and flying out of JFK on Christmas day, and returning on New Year's day, two very light travel days traditionally, I can get to most of them for less than $500. Now I just have to determine if there will be anything to do in any of these places at that time of year. I've been looking for a book on Christmas travel, but it doesn't seem to exist. I've found a few articles at places like Lonely Planet, but nothing substantially informative. This is going to take some further research, but I think... I pretty much know at this point, that my passport is getting a new stamp soon.

Everyone has off weeks, you know? For me this hasn't so much been an off week as an "on" one. Wednesday Thursday and Friday of last week I spent working in the mornings at a theatre that I work for frequently here in Manhattan. Every day at 2 the actors would take the stage and I'd pack my bags and head to the hinterlands of Queens to attend the technical rehearsals for show I did out there. (This being the show that I accepted as a favor to a friend who needed to get to his family in NoLa). This was an hour and a half train ride going out and about two hours, fifteen minutes coming back because the trains had gone local by the time. I was getting in at an average time of 1 am, then getting up to be at work in Manhattan by 9.

That show opened on Friday, by was replaced in my schedule by a show that I had agreed to costume. It seemed like a much simpler assignment at first but hard to please actors and wishy-washy directors plagued my progress. Please, Baby Jesus save me from actors with ideas, and directors with none!

Saturday, Sunday and Monday were spent frantically building the set that I had gotten behind on last week. Yesterday I was here from 10am until 3am, painting and building, sometimes with actors onstage. I returned this morning at 9am for the first tech. That ended at 6, but I had to hustle to my costuming job which also began tech today! Then back here to finish things. I expect to leave at roughly 2.

Tomorrow will be much the same, except that the show here will be open, and I will have just the costume job to concentrate on for a day or two, until I have to convert the set I am building now for the next show, which is sharing this design. Are you confused yet? I am, I'll admit. Suffice to say that accepting the show from my friend put a serious crook in the way that my planning usually runs.

I ache for Thursday to get here, because I know I can sleep in, at least for a little while. Of course sleeping in right now would be 6 hours, instead of 3.

I hope to be back to my normal form by next week. I have a few good sketches from al those long train rides that I hope to start posting soon. Thanks for your patience.

At 10:40:05 p.m. this evening someone from Nashua, New Hampshire became the 5000th visitor to this blog. I can see from the visit logs that this wasn't your first visit, so if you are checking in again, please say hi and tell me who you are!

Thank you all for visiting, and I look forward to 5000 more!

"Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves. We have had our summer evenings, now for October eyes!" -Humbert Wolfe.

I've always loved that quote. I never have been able to find the rest of the poem, everyone simply quotes that portion, (unless, and this just occurred to me, that IS the poem... Aha!) but I've had a clipping from a magazine with that quote that has been pinned to a couple dozen bulletin boards over the years, wherever I've worked or lived. There's something about Autumn that makes gets me into a romantic mood.

Now, everyone knows that when you are actively looking for someone romantically you'll never find who you're looking for... So let it be known that I am certainly NOT looking for anyone who even vaguely fits the following descriptions:

An astronomer who will spend the afternoon explaining his latest research to me while I pretend to listen, really just watching the way his lips move and contemplating what they would feel like to kiss.

A theoretical mathematician with thick blonde hair on his forearms that shimmers like gold when he plays his guitar in the sunshine.

An ex-college baseball player turned novelist who spends his days in diners and the park transcribing conversations that he's eavesdropped on. He'd read me the good parts over cheap red wine and cheese.

A redheaded painter who creates giant canvases based on myths from his Celtic heritage.

A comic book geek who would go to the shop with me on Wednesday afternoons and then spend the evening swapping books while we shared sushi and argued over the best Avengers line-up.

A former boy scout who will take me hiking and won't mind setting up the tent because I want to finish one more watercolor before the light goes.

So PLEASE, if any of this sounds like you... drop me a line so that we can... NOT... uhm... start an email conversation, and then later NOT move into an apartment in the East Village with a dachshund. 'Cause I certainly DO NOT want that to happen.

Nope. Not at all.

Last night I had a quite new experience... I was sketched on the subway.

At about 1:30 a.m., after a frustrating commute from Kew Gardens that involved a car, a bus, 3 different train lines and an out of system transfer that had me walking in the rain for 5 blocks, I was comfortably ensconced on the 1 train, having a conversation with the director that I'm working with on this project. An older man got on the train carrying a clipboard and a handful of sharpened pencils. He sat across the aisle from us and began sketching.

I was secretly elated, but I wasn't sure what to do. The 1 train is much smaller than my preferred A line, and it was impossible to mistake what he was doing. I'd have probably been doing it myself if I was alone on the train. I felt bad for him, knowing that I was going to be leaving the train in a few more stops. He had picked a poor subject to sketch. I tried to stay as still as I could, focusing on the conversation, to give him as much chance as I could, but the ride came to end quickly.

As I got up to exit the train I glanced at his clipboard, but I guess he was frustrated by my early exit, as he was busy scribbling out his efforts. The last thing I saw was him balling up the page. I can sympathize with his frustration, I have many sketchbook pages that are only partially finished because my subject left the train quickly.

Sorry Mr. Clipboard, I'd have loved to have seen your sketch, finished or not. Maybe next time.

For this first group of potential gifts I decided to dream big! So if any you are multi-millionaires, and feel like picking up... well... just a little something for me... here are a few ideas:

A Private Island

I've had my eye on this island for quite a while now, and I've watched the price drop by several hundred thousand dollars, to the point where now they don't even list a price. The description has been re-written a few times and the images of the houses on the island have changed, as the realtors try to find a buyer for it. A hundred and sixty acres and an in-place infrastructure off the coast of Ireland sounds like the perfect place for me to retire from the entire world and paint. Don't you think? What I'd be getting for your money... 9 houses of varying sizes and types, a 9-hole golf course, a private generator and water system for the island, and a beach house in the shape of a mock ship-wreck. Hell... I'd probably open up the whole place as a gay resort.

A New York City Apartment

Another piece of prime real estate, the layout and visuals of this apartment seem like they would make for an amazing living experience. I love towering windows like this, and converted industrial spaces always seem like they would make incredible apartments. Plus the monthly maintenance fees are less than what I'm paying for my share of rent at my current place... there's just that pesky 1.7 Million fee to move in that I really need help with.






A Savannah Townhouse

If New York city real estate seems pricey then maybe a more modest investment in my hometown of Savannah would make a better gift? My very first apartment was just a few blocks from this house, which is on Whitfield Square, one of my favorite places in Savannah. Whitfield Square has a great little gazebo in the middle where I used to spend a lot of time. (It's one of the most popular wedding spots in the city.) The house has a garden! And it's already on the Registry of Historic Homes. Three bedrooms, so I could easily convert one to a studio and still have a place for my mom stay when she visits. I think this one's one heck of a deal!

Or Maybe a Treehouse?

Not sure where I'd put this one, but the idea of it intrigues me immensely. Treehouses have always had a particular appeal to me and this one certainly has class. Maybe my mom would let me put it between the pines on the edge of her property? It would give me a place to stay when I went home for visits. Plus it appeals to the geek within because it not only reminds me of the Ewok Village, but of Tayledras Ekeles.

I've been told that I am a hard person to holiday shop for. Personally I don't really see the problem, (nor, for the record, does Michelle, Best Friend Extraordinaire) but to help make things easier for the upcoming holiday season I have decided to post a twelve part holiday buying guide... for me. So, if you have any plans to buy me a gift, I hope this helps!

As there are twelve weeks left until Christmas, I have decided to break this into twelve categories of gift and publish one each week, so check back if you don't see anything immediately that is of interest to you! Please realize that I know that this is entirely an exercise in vanity, but it's fun to fantasize (please not the first week's category) and also share some of the cool stuff that I've found around the web lately.

I've spoken here before about the way that coincidences frequently occur in my life, to the point that I often wonder if physics and I actually agree on anything.

Today, for the first time I have evidence of my own thoughts affecting the world around me.

Leaving the theatre this afternoon I was thinking to myself about having met one of the actors from this summer on the street Saturday. In point of fact I've run into several of them over the weeks since returning to New York. Ahead of me was a man who superficially looked like the choreographer from the summer, who is also here in the city. I smiled to myself at the possibility of seeing him, just as I was thinking of seeing any of them. I stopped at a crosswalk and turned from west to north. And there he was.

In the crowd on the other side of the street, waiting to cross, was the choreographer who I had just been thinking of. We had a brief hug and reunion in the middle of the street, both hurrying on to our own busy lives.

But there it was, the observer altering the quantum reality, except this time with his thoughts.

I haven't posted a lot here about my personal political views but I am so enraged this morning that I can't stop myself.

Our esteemed President gave a speech this morning (actually is STILL giving at this point) regarding his new choice for the Supreme Court, New Orleans, and the Patriot Act.

Three things that he has been DEAD WRONG about.

The place where his true colors shone through the clearest though was the section of his speech dealing with the gas shortages, and high prices following Katrina. His solution to keep gas prices lower in the future and to aid us in any future crisis? MORE REFINERIES. We need to build more refineries so that if a handful of them are affected by something catastrophic in the future it won't impact the country so directly.

More refineries. Not a mandate to pursue hydrogen fuels, not tax rebates for people who buy hybrids, not even a simple call for further research into alternatives, but more refineries.

Is it clear to everyone yet?

He started talking to me because I was wearing a shirt with a red dragon embroidered on the sleeve, and he had a shirt with black dragon on the chest. Red Dragon to Black Dragon he wanted to know what I had cooked today (rice and shredded beef), and whether or not I recognized the symbols on his rings, which apparently were Shiite Muslim symbols. He wanted to know if I had heard of them, but seemed unhappy when I said that I had heard about them on the news. he asked if I was christian, and when I answered atheist he seemed incredulous that an atheist would wear the symbol of a dragon, since the dragon symbolizes hell's fire. I tried to keep my sketchbook turned but he was determined to get a look, and when he figured out what I was doing he insisted that he'd make a better subject that the lady I was actually sketching. His face was far more memorable he said, and dragons had to respect one another. Thankfully I was only one stop from home, which allowed me to beg off. It's not often that people pay attention to what I'm doing, or at least that they let me know that they have picked up on it, and even then they don't usually acknowledge it much. I prefer those people. Sorry Black Dragon.

The first image from the brand new sketchbook.

A few days ago, on a whim, I filled out the audition questionnaire on the "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" website. There wasn't much to it, just a name and address sort of thing. I didn't even have to answer any trivia. Well, today I received a confirmation e-mail. Early next month I will be auditioned to appear on the show! This has been a dream of mine for a few years now, and I think I can do well on the show if I get chosen. Wish me luck!

For the first time in my history as an artist I have filled a sketchbook. The previous post marks the final page of my subway sketchbook.

I began this sketchbook on April 20th, and had a three month hiatus while I was away for summerstock this summer. There are 80 pages in the book, and I've shared a little more than half of the sketches with you guys. Minus the three months I was away that means that I filled this little book in roughly two and a half months.

I've kept dozens of sketchbooks over the years, beginning in art school, where there was roughly one begun every semester. Since then I have attempted to sketch on a daily basis several times, but in all those sketchbooks, and all that time, I never actually filled one. Several of those partially filled books are on my bookshelves even now.



So I decided to post the very first sketch from the book, (previously unseen!, everybody say "oooooh!") to show a contrast, from then to now. I think I've progressed quite a bit don't you?

Which is more disturbing, the fact that someone landed at my site yesterday after searching the phrase "child f*cks mother" OR the fact that when I track the ISP of the person who performed the particular search, it originated from a US Military base in Iraq?

There is something inexplicably joyous about the idea that in order to research one of the shows that I'm currently working on I got on the subway and went to the neighborhood that it is set in. I spent about an hour today wandering around the Village, specifically the area around 14 Gay Street, (pat yourself on your trivia burdened back if you know the show... Not YOU Kevin).

It made realize that I have been in New York for nearly two years now and I have yet to visit #3 Beekman Place. This of course would be the illustrious address of Mame Dennis. (And yes, before you ask, I am just that gay.) I think I may have to take a little trip some afternoon next week, just to see what the neighborhood is like.

I have officially reached a saturation point as far as work is concerned.

I already had two shows in mid October for a school that I often work for, and a show at the end of November. Today I finalized a bid for a job related to a non-theater related NYC institution, that I recently discovered does some small theatrical productions on the side. If that is accepted I'll have to begin work on that almost immediately. Today three more jobs opened up.

Last night the TD from this summer called to ask if I would consider coming to the college that he attends to work as a scenic painter for a production they are doing. This one isn't definite, but it is a possibility hanging out there in the ether.

Then early this morning I had a phone call from a friend who is also a scenic designer. He and I have traded jobs a few times, when one of us was too busy we gave the other's name to the producers. I had never known it, but it turns out that he is from New Orleans. Even though his family has asked him not to, he has decided to return home. Understandably he feels at a loss being here, so far away from his family. He asked me to assume the production of a show that he was already hired for. Even if I had been totally booked I probably would have agreed to do this job, just because a friend was in need. I have a meeting in regards to that production on Wednesday.

The stage manager from this summer also emailed me today to ask if I would be interested in costuming a small show that she is working on. This is another one that I agreed to immediately, for various reasons. First being that it is a new costume credit for me, something that I am attempting to build on resume. Another reason being that it is a world premiere from a fairly well known personality that I would love to have my name attached to in the future. Again, it isn't a lock yet, but the offer is out there.

If anything else is offered to me this month I will have to say no. This is one of those weird moments as a freelancer where I know that I have plenty of work, more than enough in fact, but the prospect of turning work down is painful. Last year I went through a very rough period around the months of April and May because work had dried up, and that period still looms large in my mind. To say no to a potential job brings up fears of that occurring again this year. On a positive note however, at this point things are looking great! My career is in fine shape, and this job that I am assuming for my friend is even a step along my career goal resolutions: I won't have to build a thing for it!

How sad is it that I had to look up instructions on how to write '40' in Roman numerals? Now, hands up, and be honest... how many of you thought it meant 'extra large?'

Today marks another "Only in New York" moment.

I am currently designing costumes for a show, and so I spent about 4 hours today in the Salvation Army in midtown. I had my measurement sheets on a clipboard, and my measuring tape around my neck, and a shopping cart full of possible choices. The surprising part was when one of the employees of the Salvation Army approached me and asked if I would like a rack. I wasn't sure what he meant until he showed me, but he was offering me a rolling rack on which to hang my clothes, rather than the shopping cart I had been using. I gratefully said yes, and thanked the guy. His response? "No problem. I know when designers come in they usually like to see everything hanging together." Where else but New York City would a Salvation Army employee have recognized me as a costume designer?

There's very few things in my life that actually make me feel like I am getting older. One is that single annoying black hair that I pluck off my earlobe every few weeks. Another is the skin on the back of my hands, which is starting to take on the texture that my grandmother's hands had, sort of thin and papery. But the worst is my knee. My right knee aches quite a bit, and I often wear one of those elastic braces that you can buy at any drug store. Tonight in particular it is very twingy and I'm not sure why.

Over the summer one of the directors, who was also a choreographer, gave me White Flower Balm for my knee. I never used it, mainly because I thought it was silly. It's a Chinese herbal medication, and contains all sorts of essential oils and what-not. Sort of an herbal version of Ben-Gay. I used it tonight for the first time. My knee has been killing me today, and getting into bed just seemed to make it worse. I know that all it really does is redirect my perception of the ache towards the cool tingly feeling that it creates, but it has made me feel better faster than the ibuprofen I took an hour ago.

One unexpected side-effect though is that it made me feel old. I've never really been one for medication, I hold off on taking aspirin or ibuprofen until it is absolutely necessary and unless I am seriously ill you won't really catch me taking much else. I dread the day that I have a daily pill regimen, for whatever reason. This act of rubbing in some strange liquid in hopes of relieving the pain seemed like I was acquiescing to it. Admitting that I am an old man, and just doing the things that old men do. I don't like it at all.

Part of being back in the city, and back in my real life is that I have to begin sending out portfolios and resumes again, which means a ton of printing and packaging and labeling and blah blah blah.

I hate my printer. I've hated it for about a year now, but it's the one I have, and so it's the one that I use. I went out today with the intention of picking up ink cartridges so that I could print the new wave of portfolios. Whenever I go into an electronics or office supply store I get this wave of tech envy and spend an hour or two drooling over the latest full color laser printers that can churn out poster sized prints in seconds, or alarm clocks with built in iPod bases that allow you to wake up to your own music, and today was no exception.

The cartridges for my printer cost a total of $57, for both color and black. During my shopping today I realized that I could purchase a brand new printer, for $99, that also included a $20 rebate. This $79 (after rebate) printer fulfilled two of the three requirements that I had for the next printer I planned to purchase, ie: individual cartridges for the color inks, the ability to print on 11x17" paper, and the ability to print on CD's. The largest scale paper the new printer uses is 8 1/2" x 11" but for the price, I'm not going to quibble over small things. I don't print that large a scale often anyway. So, I am the proud owner of a new printer, which will soon be rolling out resumes, both digital and paper. Call me a happy consumer.

I got the opportunity today to visit the Central Park Zoo free of charge, which I, of course, jumped on. It's a decent zoo, very small, with only a few dozen animals, but I got to see some macaques, some of my favorite animals, The polar bears were out today, and very frisky. One was ferociously attacking a barrel, which a sign informed me could be purchased if I did the appropriate search on ebay. I know I'm itching to get a mangled plastic bucket, how about you? Surely they can come up with a better fund raiser. The sea lions were also having a lot of fun today, and were good for a few minutes of entertainment.

The most startling moment was in the rain forest enclosure where a large bird was chasing a tiny white mouse around the foot path. It didn't seem like a predatory bird, it was small, about the size of a crow, with a long thin beak that (if I remember my biology classes correctly) would mostly be associated with a fruit eating bird, (right, Jess?), so I was very surprised to see it chasing and pecking at this mouse. It eventually chased the mouse into the foliage and I lost sight of them, so I don't know how the pursuit ended, but it was very strange.

It was a fun diversion for my afternoon, though I'll admit it was often more fun watching the children's reactions to the animals as the animals themselves.

For no real reason that I can figure out a small marching band just passed by the street in front of my apartment playing "St. James Infirmary." A good portion of the block was either leaning out their windows to watch, or standing on their fire escapes. I assume it was a Katrina fund raising thing, since that's a very New Orleans song, but that's the only clue I have to the purpose.

LOVE.

I received two different emails reminding me that a feeling of extreme dehydration is a symptom of low blood sugar, (and therefore possibly a symptom of type 2 diabetes). Since this coincidentally occurred while Michelle was visiting me, and she actually is diabetic, I had her check my blood sugar levels. Everyone will be happy to know that I was firmly in the middle of the tolerable range of levels. You'll also be happy to know that my thirst has subsided, which is good because... well... let's just say that I spent a lot of time awake last night between the caffeine levels and the amount of liquid in my body.

Just in case you were curious, and frankly I can't see a logical reason why you wouldn't be, today I have consumed the following:

One large glass of milk
Three large glasses of tea
Two 20oz Pepsis
One large glass of orange/carrot juice
Four large glasses of water.

This is roughly two gallons of liquid.

I'm STILL thirsty.

Wasn't there a horror movie where one of the symptoms of the possession or infestation or whatever it was was extreme dehydration? I think I may be possessed.

Kyle has given my very first official meme tag! I've officially joined the world of bloggers now.

7 Things I Plan To Do Before I Die:
1) Hike through the Aztec and Inca ruins on the Yuccatan
2) Become conversationally functional in Japanese
3) At least be nominated for a Tony
4) Publish a comic book
5) Learn to bake biscuits as well as my mother
6) Attempt the Appalachian Trail
7) Produce theatre in Savannah, GA

7 Things I Can Do:
1) Replicate almost any texture with scene paint, drywall plaster, and white glue
2) Turn even the most innocuos comment into something dirty
3) Predict with fairly certain accuracy when someone will come out
4) Be charming
5) Word puzzles
6) Say "thank you" and mean "fuck you'
7) Bake a MEAN macaroni and cheese

7 Things I Cannot Do:
1) Dance
2) Any form of math involving both letters and numbers
3) Flirt with someone I'm actually attracted to (though this is getting better)
4) Finish things
5) Break up gracefully
6) Swim
7) Small talk

7 Things That Attract Me To Guys:
1) Hands
2) Large noses
3) Furry butts
4) The ability to play an instrument
5) A well pressed white dress shirt and jeans
6) Modesty
7) (This is the most specific one) Thick blonde hair on a heavily muscled forearm

7 Things That I Say Most Often:
1) Fuck a goat! (Alternatively "God bless a goat!)
2) Christ on a cracker!
3) Ya'll
4) Where the hell did I put ______
5) What the fuck?!
6) Oooooo-kla-homa! (very badly sung)
7) Goddamnrrrrgh! (Degrading into a snarl and a growl)

7 Celebrity Crushes:
1) Anderson Cooper
2) Patrick Dempsey
3) Jason Mraz
4) Paul Rudd
5) Orlando Bloom
6) Heath Ledger
7) Paul Bettany

7 People I Want To Do This:
Well... this one's a problem. I don't really know enough people in the blogging community to be able to call anyone out on this. Kyle tagged me... Dorian might pick it up... I could pin it on my sister as a way to force her to pay attention to her dormant blog... Maybe Bohb could use it for his secret blog that he created but hasn't posted to yet... It doesn't seem like the sort of thing that my mom would be into... so if anyone wants to pick this up, just let us know where you posted it, and I'll happily come read it.

All season I looked longingly at the apple tree that stood at the end of the property at the theatre. It's a fairly old tree, broken in the middle, and it hasn't been pruned for generations. Judging by the age of the tree and the history and location of the property it may very well be one of the original trees propagated by John Chapman. By the time I left though the fruit was still very small and green, but beginning to show signs of plumping up. In the week I've been away they've done a lot of growing, and have started turning red. I was determined to eat this fruit, one way or another. I had three of them yesterday, just eating them out of hand, but it wasn't satisfying enough.

So this morning Alison and Tom and I spent an hour or so shaking the branches of the tree, (the deer have eaten all the convenient fruit) and gathering them. We very easily ended up with a milk crate full of apples, leaving the tree still packed with ripening fruit. A peeling party commenced at the Equity housing, at one point there were 8 of us pairing, and about 2 hours later we had 6 apple pies with brown sugar crumb topping. The apples themselves were tart, and very firm, maybe just a little dry, but they made beautiful pies. As the season is winding down here at the theatre the kitchen has shifted into full left-over mode, so the pies were a huge hit with the resident company and the rest of the staff. The group of us also felt very accomplished by the baking. There's something mysterious and arcane about baking, or at least people seem to think so, but these pies were the simplest thing in the world. (We did break down and buy frozen crusts though, there's only so much I'm willing to try in a strange kitchen.) It was also a very fitting end to the season, a very communal gathering of people from several different departments to accomplish something creative, and satisfying.

Here's the remains of the poor car. The poor deer's remains are... well... probably bear food by now.

I resisted turning on Word Verification, mainly because spamments (spam comments) hadn't seemed like a problem for me so far, but after deleting 7 spamments today... Well. It's on, so to speak.

Sorry about the inconvenience guys, please don't let it discourage you from commenting.

I've been back in the mountains for less than an hour and managed to kill a large animal. I spent all summer here marveling at how bold the local deer are, rarely running when cars approach, even when approached on foot they just seemed to stand there and stare you down. I saw a deer or three every single day that I was here, and quickly got into the habit of calling out "Deer!" whenever we were driving, to make sure the driver was aware of the animal, on the off chance that it decided to dart out into the road. Three months of driving and riding and there wasn't a single incident.

Today an approximately two year old buck, who still had spots and velvet on his antlers decided to dart out in front of us as we were on our way to Wal-Mart. I started to call it out, as I have trained myself to do, but it was too late. A significant portion of the windshield was in our laps, and the deer was sprawled out on the opposite side of the road from where I had last seen it.

No one was hurt, Alison had a few very minor cuts from the glass, but there were no other injuries. The deer managed to get up and limped off into the trees, we assume that it is probably dead or dying in the woods somewhere. The car had some pretty major damage, the hood is dented, the windshield is gone of course, and the roof is a bit crinkled where the windshield meets it.

I haven't been in an accident of any sort in a number of years, and I don't really ever want to be in another.

Welcome back to the woods I guess.

It's back to the mountains for the weekend.

Just as I was leaving last week the producer asked if I would be willing to return to help with the final load-out and shutting down the theatre for the winter, pulling benches inside, shuttering everything, pulling down the rented lights, that sort of thing. I decided to go up a bit early, so I could a few days with my friends without the pressure of a show, and also because the weather is significantly cooler up there (a high of 77 on Saturday, and 72 on Sunday!). I'm looking forward to it, this time it is essentially a vacation, at least for the first few days. Sunday night and Monday will be a lot of work, but nothing compared to the normal change-over weekend. The set will actually stay in place, whoever is there next year can deal with removing it, just as we removed last year's final set.

It's a fitting closure for the season, more satisfying than walking away and leaving the show to run itself as I did last week.

This test tells me that I can expect to live for 84.58 years. Not a bad life span, I reckon.

I took the test again and adjusted it a bit, answering as if I had taken it 2 years ago when I lived in Connecticut and my life expectancy went down to 80.78 years, adjusting mainly for the fact that I drove a car a lot more when I lived there than I do now. Funny to think that it made such a difference. Now I need a test that will take into account subway muggings, city pollution, bad taxi drivers and the stress created by pushing tourists out of the way when I'm trying to get through Times Square to the comic shop.

Normally when I sketch I don't really draw that much attention. Occasionally I'll look up and realize that someone is watching me, but they normally go back to their own lives and we never interact. Today I looked up from my sketchbook and into the face of an older gentlemen who gave me look of disdain and shook his head as he looked back to his newspaper. I didn't think much of it until later when I realized that all he could see was these two drawings. On opposing pages of my sketchbook there were two drawings of women's legs and feet. He must have thought that I was a fetishist or something! Lesson learned on that one I guess.

Something a little different from my normal bust shot of fellow subway riders.

I fell in love on the train tonight.

I do this a lot, when I see some particularly intriguing guy sitting across from me. I suppose that's what the Craigslist Missed Connections are for, but that just seems a little to much like a message in a bottle for me. (Not that I don't LOVE reading them...) I can have very rapid fantasy relationships over and over during my train ride home.

Tonight I was standing in a semi-crowded D train and looked down at the yellow legal pad the guy seated beside me was scribbling on. There, scrawled over pages and pages was a very lengthy and complex looking equation. He was rapidly filling another sheet with line after line of alchemical looking symbols and numbers, with notes in the margins about differentials and what-not. He may as well have been writing in Chinese, as much as I understood, but DAMN was it sexy.

I was instantly in love with him. (It didn't hurt that he was cute) There was something about the fact that he was deeply invloved in this pursuit that is incredibly mysterious to me that made him even more attractive. Math may as well be magic as far as I'm concerned, but here was a guy who was effortlessly solving this enormous equation as easily as I would write a letter. There's a huge dollop of sexy on that.

I've always been that way frankly, guys who play intruments, or sing really well, or play ball, or dance, or speak other languages... they fascinate me. Anyone with a skill that I don't have basically. There's some part of me that is looking for a guy with skills opposite mine, so that I can claim them by some small measure I suppose, or at least benefit by having them near. (Or it might just be that this guy could probably balance my checkbook for me, a bit of math that I can't even do.)

So if you are out there Mr. Equation, email me, and don't forget to drop a couple quadratic formulas into your reply. It will turn me on, I promise.

Scott encouraged me to check out Illustration Friday and to consider participating. After looking through a couple dozen of the links today I was very impressed with what was going on over there, so I've decided to join up.

The above image was completed a few weeks ago as part of a suite of illustrations that I created for a theatre in Connecticut. This image, (along with five others) represents their season for this year. This particular play is titled Jonah's Dream and is based on the biblical story of Jonah and the whale. When I saw this week's theme I immediately thought of this image. It's a bit different than the images that I have posted here before, showing a different side of my range of illustration styles.

This is going to take some readjustment. My Subway skills are rusty. Four sketches yesterday, and only one that I feel is worthy of you guys seeing. Two others that I started but the models left the train. I have to retrain myself to pick out the models that will be on for a few stops, and regain the speed it takes to get the image started properly, not to mention finished. Practice makes perfect though.

Regardless, I'm back!

I know that as a New Yorker I'm not supposed to be in any way impressed or even aware when celebrities are nearby, but I can't help it. I guess maybe I'm still not truly a New Yorker.

Regardless, I average a celebrity a week most weeks and seeing one today made me feel like I was truly home again. Today's siting? Eartha Kitt. I've always loved her, stemming mainly from her appearances as Catwoman on the 60's Batman TV series.

Eartha, it was nice seeing you!

I've been in New York City for less than 24 hours and I have a production meeting for a costume design, two interviews for scenic designs, and one open offer for a scenic design that I am debating acceptance of. All of this has occurred since I returned. Some of the preliminary work took place while I was in the mountains, but most of it dropped into my lap since getting back. My professional life has refused to give me even a day or two to sleep before throwing me back into the fray. Not that I'm complaining mind you!

I'm back in the city. I crossed the GWB this afternoon about 12:30.

Back in the mountains I have left my mark with the record setting single most successful show in the history of the theatre. More successful that Fiddler, which is huge in a heavily Jewish community. Some performances were over 100% sold.

I also leave a few beautifully built and designed pieces of stock scenery, that I fully expect will end up onstage there again someday.

A little piece of my heart was already missing when Harp left earlier in the season.

Several of my closest friends among the crew are still there, running the last two weeks of the final show.

Anything else that I may have forgotten there I will retrieve next weekend when I go back for the final load-out and shut down of the theatre.

With me I have literally thousands of digital photos taken by everyone there, not only of the sets and shows, but of the crews and actors. I joked today that between this blog, and the photos (and videos) this has been the most well documented period of my life since childhood.

It should go without saying that I've brought home some beautiful memories, and some new friendships, not to mention some great stories for all of those future days comparing war wounds with other theatre technicians.

It feels... odd to be home. It feels somehow temporary, like that little room back in the mountains is my real home. Of course, it's true that at this point I lived there longer than I lived in my current apartment, so that might be part of it. I am sure it won't take me long to settle in beautifully though. Tomorrow I plan to sleep in until my back aches, and I am driven out of bed by hunger (or maybe the need to pee). Then my life begins again. Resumes and portfolios to get out there, Artistic Directors, and theatre boards to hassle for jobs. My next scheduled show is not until October, so I have a lot of time to fill.

And of course, some Subway Sketches to get going!

Only once in my life have I ever been angry enough that I had to be physically restrained and removed from the situation by another party in order to prevent me causing someone bodily harm. That event occurred almost 5 years ago at one of the first summer stocks that I designed (rather than working as a painter or a props person) and my intended victim was the lighting designer.

During the first technical rehearsal I had approached the LD with a few simple notes, light that was hitting things that shouldn't be illuminated, or in one case was exactly the right color to make something onstage glow like it was under blacklight. Each time I spoke to him he said, "There's nothing I can do about that." It was my first real design gig, and I hadn't had a lot of experience collaborating with other designers, so I let it slide, and assumed that he was telling me the truth, that he literally couldn't focus the light in any other way that would prevent the problem.

During the second day of tech, I bit my tongue on many other such notes, notes that I have rarely had to give an LD since, but when one glaringly obvious and ugly lighting problem came up I approached him about it. He followed his standard "can't help it" reply with a physics lesson on light. "You know, I can't just make light stop wherever I like, sometimes there are shadows." The attitude and condescension immediately struck a raw chord in me, and the next thing I remember is being seated on the steps outside by the Production Manager. He had evidently gently taken me aside, and out of the situation because I had already clenched my fist and was pulling back as if to swing. He had removed me from the situation, but I was seeing so much red that I was barely aware of it at the time.

All I'm going to say about last night is that I have once again been prevented from committing mayhem, this time because the LD was already in bed by the time I found out what had been said, but the similarity of the situation is striking.

"Hopefully this final change over will be part of the time that flies."

That's how I ended the last post. Take a look at the time stamp on this post... I haven't even begun my job yet. As I've reported there was an extra show tonight, so we lost about 5 hours of work time, and all of the actors who ended their contracts today were off at 11p.m., so we lost a big chunk of work crew in our final hour with them. I have always made fun of the lighting staff and called them FITWES, or Fucking In The Way Electricians, because they have to have ladders and things onstage, usually when I need the stage clear to paint, they are really earning that nickname tonight. I slept from 7 until midnight with the anticipation of being able to work because everyone said that this change over was going to be the easiest yet. Lighting estimated 45 minutes for their section, sets estimated 3 hours. I am about to go back to bed with the understanding that they wake me whenever the stage is clear enough for me to paint. 5 a.m. .... 6 a.m. .... who knows. Bacchus is determined to kill me yet with this place.

Today's the day... the load-in for the final show begins. We've been pushing hard all week to overcome the fact that the current show is the second best selling show in the history of the theatre, and as such the producer decided to add a second performance today, which is going to subtract from the time that we have to put the last show into place. With five less hours to get it in, and a larger show than than we've done all summer it's going to be a challenge.

After this change over things really begin to collapse in on themselves around here. All of the resident company not cast in the new show, (which pretty much means everyone who is still in school and needs to get back) are off contract tonight at midnight, and most of them are leaving early in the morning. The tech staff contracts end Tuesday at midnight, and the majority of them are leaving on Wednesday afternoon. There will only be 4 tech staff members here after that to keep the next show in shape and running for its two week run.

I leave on Thursday, sometime in the mid afternoon probably. I had to wait until one of the remaining tech staff who had a car was available to take me into the city, so I'll get a day or two more of the country life before heading home.

The atmosphere here is incredibly summer camp-like and today has been dubbed "No Hugging, No Crying Sunday." The actors, who are generally younger and more prone to sentimental thinking are treating it like the last few days of high school, with promises of staying in touch, and "never forgetting." A few of them are moving to New York together, having bonded over the summer and deciding to become roommates in the city. The technicians of course have a much more jaded view. We all know that we'll see one another sooner or later, theatre is too small a world for us not to. Or alternatively we have written off the people that we never want to see again, and will be happy to be shed of them.

I won't try to sum up my experiences here yet, after all I have four more days of them to go, but I will say that it feels strange for it to be ending. Time moved so slowly the first month that I was here, but has flown by for the last. Hopefully this final change over will be part of the time that flies.

Getting a tattoo has more rules than owning a Mogwai, I swear. For the first five days I am not supposed to soak in water, so no swimming or long baths, and I also have to apply antibiotic ointment four times a day. When I shower, which is allowed thankfully, I have to be sure to not let the spray hit it directly, and to pat it dry, not rub it at all. After 5 days I can switch to moisturizing lotion instead of antibiotic cream, but I have to keep that up for two weeks, and I have to be careful not to OVERmoisturize it. After that week I have to be sure not to expose it to direct sunlight for long periods of time, for a whole month. If I do I have to apply sunscreen. I also can't scratch it, rub it, lie on it, put a great amount of pressure on it, or pick at any scabs that may form. I keep having the fear that I am going to somehow screw the whole thing up and end up with this blotchy red THING on my arm for the rest of my life. Then I remind myself that people have been tattooing themselves for millennia and THEY didn't have antibiotic ointment, or showers for that matter.

This may be one of the gayest things I've ever said out loud but... Was I supposed to tip my tattoo artist? This little bit of protocol slipped right by me until Alison asked. Since then I have gotten dissenting opinions from the people around here that have tattoos. No one that actually went this time tipped them. Have we committed a tattoo faux pas?

One of these images now permanently adorns my body, can you guess which?

The other four belong to other members of the technical staff here at the theatre. Three of them had the tattoos done last week, but Alison, (Stage Manager Supreme) and I were busy that day, so we followed suit today and completed the set. I'll post better, clearer pictures in a few days after mine heals a bit, but I thought the guessing game would be more interesting right now.

Everyone makes resolutions at New Years, but I have always made resolutions for myself at the beginning of each semester. Now that I'm out of school and don't have those convenient calendar dates to mark new beginnings it is harder, but leaving here and returning to NYC certainly counts as a new beginning. So, for your perusal, my personal resolutions for this next phase of my life:

Professional Resolutions
1) Begin branching out to regional theatres outside of NYC, where I'll be more likely to get larger shows.
2) Break into theatres in NYC where I am not responsible for building my shows myself.
3) Join, (or at least seriously consider joining) the union.

Personal Resolutions
1) Begin oil painting again.
2) Attend figure drawing sessions, either the alumni ones at SVA, or at the Gay Community Center.
3) Continue the exercise routine that I've begun while I was here.

I can't believe they went and did it... they have remade the one movie that haunted my dreams for years as a pre-teen: John Carpenter's The Fog.

The original had Adrienne Barbeau and Jamie Lee Curtis, (the queens of 80's horror), and Pirate Zombies (!). The new version has Tom Welling, from Smallville, and Selma Blair, and probably a lot of CGI fog banks that will end up looking like they were left over from The Mummy if the trailer is any indication.

My heart leapt at the title, but the execution is leaving a lot to be desired.

Finally! A sweet tea that actually tastes like sweet tea. Lipton's products are either too weak, in the case of their Original flavor, or taste too much like fake chemical lemon, in the case of Brisk.

Arizona managed to get the formula just about right... I think it it lacks a little body, mainly because it is made with just black tea and not the orange pekoe and black tea blend that my mom used. Ironically this is the blend that Lipton uses in their tea bags, but I don't think they use it in their own bottled tea products. The Arizona tea tastes more like Tetley, in case any of you sweet tea connoisseurs is curious.

Now, in the course of writing this post, I was planning to segue into discussing Duke's Mayonnaise. Duke's is the ONLY true mayonnaise, and every true southerner will tell you that it is what they serve on their table. For the 5 years that I have been living in the north I have been smuggling Duke's across the Mason-Dixon as it isn't sold up here, or having my mom mail it to me. As I was writing I googled Duke's so that I could provide a link for you poor deprived people who don't live in the south and therefore don't know the glory that is Duke's.

What I've discovered has made my day.

Not only does Duke's have a website, but it includes a history of the product, AND (hold onto your chair Michelle!) a company store where you can mail order their goods.

Life is complete. I can stop bugging my mom to buy me mayonnaise, and I can still eat and die happily.

Thank you Arizona, and thank you Duke's!

We just opened "Grease," which even those outside of musical theatre are familiar with I'm sure, and the theatre was shocked by a series of events that followed opening night.

First there was the series of phone calls the next morning complaining because the actress playing Rizzo... get this now... touched her crotch during the show. In a rock and roll musical, full of hip thrusting boys who grab their genitals, and sing lyrics about getting head in their car, one girl touches herself once, in a mockery of a move the boys just performed and we get complaints. The director was asked to adjust the blocking so that it was bit less... raunchy.

Then we got reviewed.

The reviewers came to opening night so they saw the same vagina touching performance that the complaining old biddies saw, and so it was MENTIONED in the review, specifically siting Rizzo and saying that the actress playing her pushed the show into an 'R' rating.

This is a show in which 16 to 18 year olds have sex, drink, smoke, use drugs, commit crimes, have gang fights, display a general distaste for authority, and openly discuss the possibility that one of them might be pregnant. IN THE 50's!! Granted none of this seems shocking these days, but the characters in this show are the definitions of juvenile delinquency for their time. They should NOT be nice kids, singing and dancing. There should be an edge to this show. At least in my opinion. Rizzo specifically should be edgy and dark, she has a whole song about being the town slut essentially. Heaven forbid that she touch her crotch.

Whether it is the movie, or a general cultural blind spot regarding the 50's I don't know, but I find it all a little silly, and incredibly offensive that it was the girl that drew the complaints from every corner.

It seems like years and years since I left New York City for this place. The first month or so crawled by at a glacial pace, the middle month flew away without me really noticing, and now the final month is almost over and I find myself wondering if it will ever be through. 15 days from now I'll be back in the loving embrace of NYC, and I can't wait.

Today I sent off three resumes and letters via email for jobs that I had seen listed in various places, I updated my resume and I am redesigning my printed portfolio to reflect the shows that I designed while I was here, dusting off my social graces and trying to get back into the mindset of a freelancer constantly on the prowl for the next meal. It's a good feeling frankly, something that I've missed without really realizing it. I have already fielded an offer or two from places that I worked at last year, one that I turned down, one that I delayed until I get back to the city to meet with the hiring committee. It also felt good to be able to turn work down, something that I didn't do at all last year because the prospect of a lean month scared me to death, but so far that doesn't look like a problem this year. Let's all cross our fingers and hope!

After some nudging towards a safer net profile, (for both of us) my mom has edited her blog, and I have added it to my sidebar links. Enjoy!

12:00 a.m. - Bedtime, I've been up for 24 hours. I have to be up at 6 to paint more, the lighting designer is taking over stage at 8.

8:00 a.m. - Woken by TD, having slept in. The set is nowhere near completely painted, I have not even base painted the car which is a major scenic element. The lighting designer is doing focus notes, so the stage is almost completely dark, with intermittent bursts of light.

10:45 a.m. - The lighting designer finally give me some constant light onstage. I couldn't argue because I had overslept and was supposed to be offstage during this time.

12:00 p.m. - Quick lunch, car is painted, most everything else is at least underway. (Every previous show this season has been finished, with the exception of notes from the director, at this point.)

1:20 p.m.- The producer stops by rehearsal and pulls me to the side. He is upset that the onstage masking is black, and feels that the show is too morbid looking, and should be more colorful. This is, by the way, the third time he has seen the set, and each previous time he approved of it.

1:45 p.m. - Final dress begins. I have had no time to address the producer's concerns.

4:30 p.m.- The dress has finished, but the director and choreographer want to keep the stage until 5:30 when they were scheduled to leave. Neither is concerned that I still have work onstage. The director has spoken to the producer, and knows what he asked me to do, but won't release the stage so that I can do anything.

5:30 p.m - Dinner. I take 10 minutes to wolf down what I can get my hands on and then dive back into the painting. I've decided to put stripes of colored tape along the portals to alleviate some of the darkness, so that at least can be done without having to wait for paint to dry.

6:30 p.m. - I have to leave stage so that there will be time for everything to dry before actors enter stage in costume, and the likelihood of a costume getting ruined occurs. The tape is up, and some other touch ups have been completed. I just accept that some of the more "refined" notes that I wanted to do are not going to get done. (Shikata ga nai!)

7:30 p.m. - The house is open, people are being seated, I am running around backstage frantically trying to complete tasks that are not my job in the first place. Things that should have been done already, but... well... you know.

8:00 p.m. - The show begins.

Tomorrow there will be time for second coats and final touch-ups and maybe a few refinements, but not too many because there is a matinee. The director for the next show also arrives tomorrow, so I'll have to begin work on that show fairly rapidly. No rest for the wicked.

As the perfect post script to my day the producer announced this morning that the show is selling so well that he added a second performance to the final sunday. The final sunday is normally when change over for the NEXT show begins at 5:30, this time I'll have 5 less hours to complete the set.

I remember vaguely from a long ago psych class that there was once an experiment where the scientists put a large number of rats into a small cage to see how they would react to limited space. Inevitably they became aggressive and began killing one another off until an equilibrium between population and space was reached and they calmed down again.

I believe that two months is about the limit that humans can withstand similar conditions. The last change over went smoothly with a minimum of strife and bitching. It came just at the end of the two month mark. This change over, and the previous two weeks have been full of back biting and mean comments, snappy responses and snarky attitudes, a general disdain towards one another's work, and an overall feeling of negativity. We have been living, working, eating, playing, bitching, griping, fucking, and whining together for 10 weeks now. The entire crew has spent nearly every waking hour of that time together, in close quarters, and not exactly ideal living conditions. We've passed the stage of polite strangers and come to the stage of dysfunctional family trapped together for a long holiday.

The great news is that this is NOT the end... oh, no... there's two more weeks and another show worth of this. I have my eye on which rats I want to kill off to regain my space, and I'm sure that the rest of them do too. We'll see who comes out on top of the rat heap.

In the middle of one of the worst change-overs all season I had to get up this morning to take Harp to the bus station. College starts for him in two weeks, and he is one of the first of the resident company to leave. There will be more and more goodbyes in the following weeks, but this was the first and will probably be the most significant.

He cried just a little at the bus station, and I tried very hard not to cry in response to him. I hid a letter for him in his luggage, and even though I think he had one for me in his pocket, (I'd seen him writing it the day before and he tried but failed to stealthily remove it from his luggage before we put it in the bed of the truck) he said that he hadn't finished it, and that he'd mail it to me in a few days. I'm not sure why he decided at that moment not to give it to me.

I have two more days of load-in hell in front of me, and the pleasantest of my distractions is now gone.

File:001
Category: Boyfriend, March 1990 to May 1990
Met: Home
"L" Word: No
Age Differential: He-32, Me-18
significance: First Kiss
Reason for Break-up: Age difference

History: For obvious reasons I have been thinking about Ex001 a lot lately. He came into my life at a time when I really needed someone. I was just barely peeking out of my closet door, and living in a town with a population smaller than the average community college's enrollment. The idea of a boyfriend was something incredibly outside my reach.

We met on my 18th birthday. He was a friend of my mom's who had come by the house. At the time I was knee deep in an English paper and paid very little attention to him. About 2 months later, after my senior prom a lesbian friend of mine, who I now realize was trying drag me out of the closet, took me to a gay club a few towns over, and he was there. She went home early because (in typical lesbian fashion) she had to play softball the next day. I stayed, and Ex001 agreed to take me home. Instead we drove all over the county visiting obscure sites that he knew from his days as a county tax assessor. That night was my first gay kiss.

In the days that followed I was wooed in the most romantic ways that I can imagine. Each morning during his morning jog he would pass by my house and leave a small note on my car. I carried the first one with me all day that day, reading it and re-reading it so many times that the crease in the paper threatened to tear. Every time I read it I was almost aroused, and thrilled about the possibilities. It was in no way sexual, or even suggestive, but it was the promise of something to come.

We dated for a few months after that, me spending many nights at his place. He introduced me to gay lit, gay cinema, alternative music, and Anne Rice.

In the end he and I parted ways, mostly because I was on the verge of leaving town for college, and I think he was afraid that I was becoming in some way attached, or expecting to become attached. At the time I didn't understand that reasoning, but now, closer to his age, I can see his concerns.

He remains one of the most romantic guys I have ever dated, and I have every note that he left for me tucked away in a box somewhere.


Current Status: At last notice still living in the county I grew up in and working at the flower shop that he owned at the time. We have not spoken in over a decade, though I stopped by his shop a few years ago, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

Harp and I continue our summer affair. He's spent nearly every night in the past two weeks at my place, rather than his (company actors get group style dorm housing... us designer types get single, private rooms). Sadly... or maybe happily, I'm not sure... it's one of the best relationships that I've had in a while. He's sweet, charming, highly affectionate, and intelligent. He knows how to return affection, when to snuggle in close, and when to hang back and let me work. We've been to the movies, (one regular, one drive-in, both bad) we've been to dinner, had drinks, flirted with each other across the room while the other was working, and... well... let's just say that my sex life hasn't been this frequent in... well, a while.

The down side? He leaves on Monday. He's 13 years my junior. He lives in another state.

Maybe this is why I never had a summer affair before, the universe knew my heart couldn't take it.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the long age of darkness is over, the growing rises of electronica has peaked, and the age of technology has truly begun: My MOM has a blog.

I am not going to link it here, because she reveals some things about herself that would identify me too closely, (Note to self: discuss net security with her), but it's there, and... well... I dunno. It's odd.

I discovered long ago that my mom reads my blog, but decided not to let it deter anything that I wanted to say here. I have occassionally paused before making posts like this one, knowing that she was going to read it, but in the end I know that she has always been very cool about anything that I wanted to tell her, so I post away.

This seems different somehow... I encouraged my sister to begin her blog but it never occurred to me that my mom would follow suit. I'm feeling an odd sense of pride and fascination and at the same time a bit weird about the whole thing... I can't pin down why it seems so odd, but I'm adjusting to the idea. It will be fun to see where she goes with it.

Still and all... the future is here!