Tuesday, April 30, 2002

The wind-up, the pitch...

So I'm on another gala committee. This time they've put me to work on the silent auction. It's going well so far--lots of good stuff, including some items donated by a couple of you (you know who you are). But, well, we can always use more...

You see where I'm going with this.

If anyone would like to make a last-minute donation to the auction, you know I'd love you forever. It's a children's organization, so sending in your prized, rarely used Tom of Finland dildo (number 7/30, signed by the artist), while a lovely gesture, isn't exactly appropriate. Most other artwork, however, does very well. So does jewelery (it's an Uptown crowd we get). Signed first editions of novels by William Faulkner are a good idea. And if all else fails, gift certificates are great. Of course, all donations are tax-deductible.

If you're interested, email me ASAP so I can put your item on the auction boards. If you're not or you can't, don't worry: we've got tons of crap to auction off as it is. I just thought I'd ask.

We now return you to your regular, nooge-free blog.

Monday, April 29, 2002

Summer has officially arrived.

I know: technically it's still April, but whatever. You go through it enough times, you recognize the turning point--the morning your dogs hesitate before bounding out the door, the afternoon that's a little too warm to be called "comfortable," the day Things Change.

Luckily, the heat doesn't bother me much. Maybe it's genetic predisposition from my Lebanese father, or maybe it's just the fact that I've endured dozens of Southern summers--whatever it is, I understand it and I know how to cope. I know how to walk slower, how to drink more fluids, how to dress lighter, how to remember my handkerchief, how to cling to the shady side of the street, how to plan my day around the noonday sun.

I had a friend once who loved cold weather. He claimed there's nothing better than a roaring fire in the wintertime: it's warm and fuzzy and nurturing. In summer, he argued, comfort relies on the cold blast of air conditioning, which is harsh and unpleasant.

I see it the other way around. When I step onto an icy sidewalk or feel the sharp stab of a gust of Arctic air, I feel threatened, in danger. The summer may be unpleasant at times--stifling and sultry--but never dangerous.

Well, except for the hurricanes. But that's another story.

Wednesday, April 24, 2002

I don't think I've ever seen anything this gay. A production of The Wiz starring Paul Lynde, Rip Taylor, and Jim Nabors would pale in comparison....

I must have it.

Monday, April 22, 2002

Four years and three-hundred-sixty-two days ago today I was in New York. I was living here in New Orleans, but I was in New York visiting. And working. But mostly visiting. Anyway.

I was at a party that night. A dull party at a lackluster gay nightclub full of boring drag queens, shameless posers, and b-level pornstars. It probably wasn't as bad as I make it out to be, but I worked at Lucky Cheng's in New Orleans at the time, and in those days, working at Lucky Cheng's was like attending an orgy coordinated by Tammy Faye Bakker and Pamela Anderson: loud-flashy-fabulous-sex-drugs-rock-and-roll! Fully naked strippers delivering cakes to bachelorettes. Fully intoxicated drag queens pulling customers into the bathroom for some blow and a blowjob. Fully insane backwaiters threatening each other with steak knives at table 33. You can't imagine.

The bottom line is this: by the tender age of 28, this Mississippi boy had seen it all in New Orleans. Twice. Even the director's cut. When it came to shock-chic, my standards were damn high, and those NYC children weren't cutting it. They didn't have a clue. I was embarrassed for them and I was bored and I was heading out the door.

Then, he walked in.

I'd seen him before, of course. Many times. Once we'd even met, made out, exchanged numbers. And after that, he ignored me.

But this time, years after our initial encounter, he was smiling. Smiling: not at the muscleboy over my right shoulder, not at his friend who was re-introducing us. At me.

He gave me his web address (it was the late-mid 90s); I went back to my hotel and skipped out on the trek to Twilo or Tunnel or wherever my buddies were going and spent five minutes typing out a quick email to this guy. Five: the length of a cigarette break. Funny how a such a slender moment can change everything... A couple of days later, we had our first date.

There's nothing worse than having to listen to happy people talk about how happy they are so I'll keep it brief: just know that I still wake up looking forward to spending another day with him.

I love you, Jonno. Happy anniversary.

Saturday, April 20, 2002

I've officially decided: Tama Janowitz is due for a comeback.

In case you were wondering.

Wednesday, April 17, 2002

Contradictions

Working by committee is democratic but oppressive.

Wigs are fun but uncomfortable.

Plumbers are hot in some ways and not in others.

Prospective friends are abundant but still strangers.

Friday, April 12, 2002

After co-writing and co-mounting two shows in New Orleans and working on an abominably large fundraiser in DC, I am many things:

I am alive.

I am happy to be home with Jonno, Lola, and the Hounds.

I am exhausted.

I am getting fat(ter).

I am too busy.

I am distracted.

I am finding it harder to say "no" than I would like.

I am rediscovering Evelyn Waugh.

I am enjoying the company of my mother and sister.

I am still truly madly deeply in love with my boyfriend.

I am glad to see the rain.

I am pleased to see our little garden grow.

I am overwhelmed by the work that still needs to be done on our house(s).

I am looking forward to a vacation.

I am overcaffienated.

I am in need of a good bath.

I am elated that the Pontani Sisters are performing tonight.

I am excited by the prospect of our next play.

I am still amused with the bright green faceplate on my Kyocera cell phone.

I am amazed that my late uncle was so well loved.

I am over people with little minds and big mouths.

I am ready to rip off my clothes and run naked in the streets.

I am tired of thinking about the details.

I am not ready to quit smoking.

I am planning to make regular posts.

I am not going to beat myself up about it.

I am a collection of atoms and molecules that means certain things to certain people and nothing to others.

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