Difficult position averted. I

Difficult position averted. I called and said “Hey, listen. I took this house on the promise that I would get to fill it with whoever I wanted. Now, you’ve stuck someone in there without consulting me, and I’m not okay with it. He can keep it as an office if he likes, but he can’t live there.” He, apparently, was not pleased - although Julie eventually understood my reasoning, I think. I told her, basically, that I’ve been sleeping in the same bed as a boy for the past four years. I’m kind of starting over, and I really feel like I need to surround myself with some positive female energy. I mean, most of my friends are boys. I’m hardly the kind of person to say “Hey, you! You with the penis! Either lose it or get the fuck out of my house!” but at the same time, I was promised that things would work a certain way, and I shouldn’t feel bad about insisting that the promise be kept. So. Once again, I’m in the market for two roommates.

This weekend was far better than most. First of all, Spin the Bottle always makes me disgustingly happy. I never really think I want to go, but then when I get there, I’m always really glad I got off my ass and went. Before STB, Bill and I met Stephen, Benlau, and Paul at Ballet. I’d never been part of this little ritual before, and the food was pretty good. Then, STB was wonderful. The rockstar Jorgensen sisters + Keira sang Erin’s song about being prostitutes (accompanied by accordion), Bruce Hall was his usual fabulous self, and Ivory Smith sang. She was a complete surprise - you see a tall, blonde, willowy-looking woman walk in with her hair semi-feathered and her tummy sticking out and you develop a very specific image in your mind of what her singing is going to sound like - especially when she drags in the Rhodes piano that sounds vaguely like something you’d hear someone playing in the background at Friday Night Bingo. I was completely shocked - and had one of those moments that I had when Ana Saskia sang at STB for the first time. I so enjoy being pleasantly surprised, and it so rarely happens. Anyway, Ivory is singing at the Coffee Messiah - right near my apartment - the night Bill leaves, so maybe that’s where I’ll go after I get my tattoo. (Gillian and Zach asked if they could come with me - do people just enjoy watching others experience pain? I really don’t mind having people around - it’ll be fun to have them there, and I guess it’ll be an educational experience.) Speaking of which, Congratulations to Sarah on her beautiful new tattoo! It’s gorgeous, and she designed it herself.

Saturday I hung out with Bill. We wanted to wander around downtown. I thought the malls closed at 9, and so I didn’t feel too bad about spending time buying myself shoes at the Bon Marche. But, actually, everything closes at EIGHT, and so I felt like a schmuck for not letting him do anything he wanted to do. To make up for it, I agreed to go see whatever movie he wanted to see (which is a dangerous proposition, as we could not differ MORE on what movies we want to see.) So, he picks Panic Room, which was probably the one movie I least wanted to see. Seriously. At the beginning of the movie, I tell Bill that I have to go to the bathroom, but I’m going to wait until after the previews (which I love). My original intent was to play that bathroom break for as long as humanly possible … however, after a few minutes, I decided to hold it until after the movie was over. (Jason said that would be a great movie review - After seeing a few minutes of the movie, I decided NOT to pee until it was finished. That pretty much sums up how I felt about it.)

Still trying to find Bailey a home. It just gets more depressing every day.

So, SUNDAY. Company brunch Eatin’-Meetin’-Readin’ thing. I am Janine Jones (AGAIN), aka Rublah Dee, a 40 year old black lesbian witch. The play itself is alternately hilarious and touching and inane - the best part of which, for me, was Jaye “Superstar” Wilkinson as “Dammit Child”, the ten year old innocent (or, as Bruce said, “idiot”) savant with flaming red hair. Or, of course, Pamala screwing the tree. That was good too.

Later, we all went to a bonfire at Golden Gardens, which was such a good idea. (Kudos to Tricia/Jason for bringing it up!) I’d never done anything like that before - I’ve only been on a beach once at night, and that was just me and Bill in New Jersey. There were so many people there, with the hot dogs and the singing and the hip flasks and the cartwheels and the cowboy hats and the “exploding” bottles and the opinionated six-year-olds and the palate-surfing. It was wonderful, and really refreshed me and made me feel better about this whole “wtf is up with my life” thing. Highlights include SJ’s adorable little boy (whose name I don’t know how to spell, so I won’t even try) walking up to Sonya and saying - very seriously - “Um, I just thought you should know … your pants are falling down.” and then being VERY concerned when she didn’t seem to care. Later in the evening, when I was smoking and singing with SJ and Gillian and Stephanie, he walked right up to me, looked me right in the eye, said “I hate smoking.” and walked off. Don’t kids just say the darndest things?

There was another rather tragically beautiful hidden subplot within all of the bonfire magic, but I’m not going to blab that out here. It did heighten my awareness of the often delicate web which is our relationships with each other - but it certainly didn’t spoil the evening. It was just one of those things that I notice - first, as a friend - and then later, as a theatre person, in that “how touching and poignant” way. It all just added to the surreality of the whole situation. I’m still not used to that whole “water, water everywhere” thing. You can take a girl out of the midwest …

Made it to work early (by which I mean one MINUTE early) for the first time in WEEKS. Pretty damn good start to my week.