The Twitter cherry has been popped. It's like a blog without the commitment. How fascinatingly inevitable...
I solemnly swear to avoid inane tweets about marshmellow fluff or the state of my hair in the morning.
I made no such promise in regards to this blog. That is all.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
And another thing!
I don't talk much. Much of this is a result of my desire to not have every word I uttered either a hurtful observation about someone else, or a generally negative bitchy comment about _______. This has been relatively successful. However, I am noticing the side effect of all this pent up vitriol is that I'm starting to go toxic. All the wretched (and apt! so very very apt!) things I notice and feel towards my fellow humans and their/our behavior don't get stated, they get figuratively eaten and they are making me metaphorically fat on their craptastic value. Even here, on a page that I started which is only a stupid blog for my own purposes, I find that I'm being haunted by people who wish to use these words against me for my own destruction.
Well why not give them something more substantial than my late "everything is GREAT!" posts, which are even annoying to me.
I am an extremely wealthy individual. Not financially affluent, mind you...I am a circus performer; obviously I'm not rolling to see my mans in a Caddy. I am rolling to see the mans on a ferry going a splendid 5 mph. But that doesn't bother me, because I love the ferry. You see, I am wealthy. And it is very, very dangerous to be wealthy these days.
Oh, how the populace hate the wealthy. Damn all their enjoying the fruits of their labor! Damn their continuing stimulation of the economy for their own benefit!
When is the last time you bought toothpaste as a gift? I'm just saying...someone needs toothpaste and doesn't have it. Do you seek them out and give them yours? Buy some for them? No, you wouldn't, because it's none of your fucking business.
I am aware of how oversimplified that statement is. I am aware that there is a 5% chance it will be read with the same intention in which it was written.
Ever notice how when you're good at something, instead of being glad to have you around people tend to wish you'd fuck off? Someone, please tell me what that is about. Pretend that I am stupid and explain it to me.
I'm being shitty, that is not always the case. It's not even mostly the case...but in the occasion that it is, it seems so absurdly wrong that I can't get past it.
And another thing...now this is why I hate arguing with liberal people. Liberals wail against the prejudice of such and such a group, and make several assumptions in one sentence and assume, likewise, that you agree with them. There is a small window after an initial rant after which you have an opportunity to respond. If you question the logic or basis of anything they've had to say, you are the enemy, and all of those assumptions made about the aforementioned group will be now reflected onto you. This process is nearly irreversible. Ever notice how liberals have so much hate and prejudice for others? Weird.
No, I don't hate liberals. They comprise the better part of my friends for whom I would gladly sink this ferry. Always remember: when you assume you make an ass of you and me. It is so true.
You are supposed to feel very, very bad about doing well these days. If you get a promotion or a raise, for god's sake don't fucking tell anyone. My friend Alfonso drives a Ferrari. You are apparently supposed to be pissed off about that, and call him greedy and selfish. But surprisingly, when we go out for coffee in it, people cluster around smiling like it's Christmas, I suspect in relief to see someone who is enjoying themselves without apology. Relief that enjoying oneself is still possible. There is still wealth to be had, make no mistake about that.
Did you hear about the 401k's that everyone lost so much money in? Yes. Did you hear that a substantial number of them have made almost all of it back because the markets are back up?
No? Weird.
Thank god, I'm out of time.
Well why not give them something more substantial than my late "everything is GREAT!" posts, which are even annoying to me.
I am an extremely wealthy individual. Not financially affluent, mind you...I am a circus performer; obviously I'm not rolling to see my mans in a Caddy. I am rolling to see the mans on a ferry going a splendid 5 mph. But that doesn't bother me, because I love the ferry. You see, I am wealthy. And it is very, very dangerous to be wealthy these days.
Oh, how the populace hate the wealthy. Damn all their enjoying the fruits of their labor! Damn their continuing stimulation of the economy for their own benefit!
When is the last time you bought toothpaste as a gift? I'm just saying...someone needs toothpaste and doesn't have it. Do you seek them out and give them yours? Buy some for them? No, you wouldn't, because it's none of your fucking business.
I am aware of how oversimplified that statement is. I am aware that there is a 5% chance it will be read with the same intention in which it was written.
Ever notice how when you're good at something, instead of being glad to have you around people tend to wish you'd fuck off? Someone, please tell me what that is about. Pretend that I am stupid and explain it to me.
I'm being shitty, that is not always the case. It's not even mostly the case...but in the occasion that it is, it seems so absurdly wrong that I can't get past it.
And another thing...now this is why I hate arguing with liberal people. Liberals wail against the prejudice of such and such a group, and make several assumptions in one sentence and assume, likewise, that you agree with them. There is a small window after an initial rant after which you have an opportunity to respond. If you question the logic or basis of anything they've had to say, you are the enemy, and all of those assumptions made about the aforementioned group will be now reflected onto you. This process is nearly irreversible. Ever notice how liberals have so much hate and prejudice for others? Weird.
No, I don't hate liberals. They comprise the better part of my friends for whom I would gladly sink this ferry. Always remember: when you assume you make an ass of you and me. It is so true.
You are supposed to feel very, very bad about doing well these days. If you get a promotion or a raise, for god's sake don't fucking tell anyone. My friend Alfonso drives a Ferrari. You are apparently supposed to be pissed off about that, and call him greedy and selfish. But surprisingly, when we go out for coffee in it, people cluster around smiling like it's Christmas, I suspect in relief to see someone who is enjoying themselves without apology. Relief that enjoying oneself is still possible. There is still wealth to be had, make no mistake about that.
Did you hear about the 401k's that everyone lost so much money in? Yes. Did you hear that a substantial number of them have made almost all of it back because the markets are back up?
No? Weird.
Thank god, I'm out of time.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Road
I love, I love, I love performing at The Pink Door. Rarely have I had such a gracious audience; not to mention such an open license to make my act whatever I like. Maybe the missing ingredient to all those morose audiences in the past is that they weren't eating awesome Italian food. I had a beet salad after the show that almost made me see God. Really, get the beet salad. Who knew?
Life it seems will continue to spiral on at the same urgency of pre-show, post-show. Acts must continue to be created, polished, rehearsed; costumes made and all other things must give sway to this single burning focus.
...almost all.
Training one's back to bend; it is a humbling experience and a long road home to the one-day pretzel especially with no one to train you (suggested reading, the Ineffable Beloved herself writes a bendy blog that regularly makes me lol, rofl, and lmao). For example, the past two weeks have unearthed the regular sensation in my upper back that I have been bludgeoned with a club by an overzealous caveman.
Which is almost hot.
Life it seems will continue to spiral on at the same urgency of pre-show, post-show. Acts must continue to be created, polished, rehearsed; costumes made and all other things must give sway to this single burning focus.
...almost all.
Training one's back to bend; it is a humbling experience and a long road home to the one-day pretzel especially with no one to train you (suggested reading, the Ineffable Beloved herself writes a bendy blog that regularly makes me lol, rofl, and lmao). For example, the past two weeks have unearthed the regular sensation in my upper back that I have been bludgeoned with a club by an overzealous caveman.
Which is almost hot.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The Pink Door
First, has anyone seen my website? I hastily made it live during rehearsal week #3 of the tour, when a chick from Dancer Magazine interviewed me and I thought I had better not give her a bunk URL. Creating this website probably made me feel more moronic than anything else I've undertaken in years. Of course now that it's finished and on line (it's alive!!) I get to feel smug again. Kind of.
I've been making, trimming, costuming, and rehearsing a lyra act for The Pink Door, a fabulously delicious Italian place where I get to dangle from the ceiling over the heads of the populace having dinner. Yay! What I have not been broadcasting, but will tell you, is that this is the first time I've performed aerial hoop.** It doesn't feel that way, because I'm prepared, but every now and then I pullover into the hoop and think, "huh. I really haven't ever done this before."
**edited for clarity
When did I get a lyra, you ask? Well one might also want to know what happened to all the cash money they paid me for my presence on tour, and while I sincerely wish I could respond to that buy throwing you a dollar, most dollars have gone right back into the system by being invested in new equipment. I found that gigs were lining up for me...on apparatus I did not own because in San Francisco I found I did not need to own it to train on it.** Now I own it. I own a beautiful steel 38" lyra taped in black (thank you SpitFire Forge), and a 12' polished stainless steel pole. Both spinning and static. Who the fuck needs money for food when you can have THAT?!
**edited for clarity. sigh.
That's a joke by the way. I would never, ever go without food.
My own definition of wealth, it is polishing itself.
I've been making, trimming, costuming, and rehearsing a lyra act for The Pink Door, a fabulously delicious Italian place where I get to dangle from the ceiling over the heads of the populace having dinner. Yay! What I have not been broadcasting, but will tell you, is that this is the first time I've performed aerial hoop.** It doesn't feel that way, because I'm prepared, but every now and then I pullover into the hoop and think, "huh. I really haven't ever done this before."
**edited for clarity
When did I get a lyra, you ask? Well one might also want to know what happened to all the cash money they paid me for my presence on tour, and while I sincerely wish I could respond to that buy throwing you a dollar, most dollars have gone right back into the system by being invested in new equipment. I found that gigs were lining up for me...on apparatus I did not own because in San Francisco I found I did not need to own it to train on it.** Now I own it. I own a beautiful steel 38" lyra taped in black (thank you SpitFire Forge), and a 12' polished stainless steel pole. Both spinning and static. Who the fuck needs money for food when you can have THAT?!
**edited for clarity. sigh.
That's a joke by the way. I would never, ever go without food.
My own definition of wealth, it is polishing itself.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Whole New World
Let me tell you about this place I find myself in. Life is, once again, ineffably altered since my last post. With the completion of the beloved Moscova Affair tour with Vau de Vire, my circus family flew back to the fog and I flew up here to the rain.
Seattle. Finally, a place that understands my need for 10% sunshine, 90% rain, gloom, and grey. That 10% really knows how to work it, making all the gray and fire-colored trees show to their best advantage. This place will suck the breath right out of your lungs.
So, I am happy. I'd have to say that I'm pretty stupid butt crazy happy. Sure- I'm still inexplicably furious/irritated at the blow of a random breeze and I'm not technically making money at the moment, and I still don't have a pony or know how to make fondu, but yeah...I'm pretty fucking happy. It is an odd sensation, but not at all an unpleasant one, to look around your reality and realize that so many of the things that make it up are things you have ached to have, and are yours.
The first time it happened to me it was terrifying. I had just moved to San Francisco, and was living in an absolutely beautiful room with an expansive view of downtown. I had the job I wanted and the relationship I wanted, and I was going to learn how to do aerial, dammit. I used to sit in that beautiful room and almost shake because it seemed too good to be true...surely there was no way I deserved such elegant fulfillment.
I suffer under no such delusion at this time in my life. I am good and ready for my elegant fulfillment, and welcome it comfortably as a natural course; no fear. And that is very tasty. I feast on it daily, this life I have waited for and built. Good friends I have missed for years, and Shaun like a torch, beating across the water-
That means he lives across the Puget Sound from me and Seattle. Pervs.
That fills my gush quota for the day. In case you need to hear something snarky to be sure it is still me writing, I will tell you that I hate the busses here and they are stupid. Time to buy a car. All Mini Coopers, BMWs and Hondas that wish to be sold for $2,000.oo please apply via comments.
Seattle. Finally, a place that understands my need for 10% sunshine, 90% rain, gloom, and grey. That 10% really knows how to work it, making all the gray and fire-colored trees show to their best advantage. This place will suck the breath right out of your lungs.
So, I am happy. I'd have to say that I'm pretty stupid butt crazy happy. Sure- I'm still inexplicably furious/irritated at the blow of a random breeze and I'm not technically making money at the moment, and I still don't have a pony or know how to make fondu, but yeah...I'm pretty fucking happy. It is an odd sensation, but not at all an unpleasant one, to look around your reality and realize that so many of the things that make it up are things you have ached to have, and are yours.
The first time it happened to me it was terrifying. I had just moved to San Francisco, and was living in an absolutely beautiful room with an expansive view of downtown. I had the job I wanted and the relationship I wanted, and I was going to learn how to do aerial, dammit. I used to sit in that beautiful room and almost shake because it seemed too good to be true...surely there was no way I deserved such elegant fulfillment.
I suffer under no such delusion at this time in my life. I am good and ready for my elegant fulfillment, and welcome it comfortably as a natural course; no fear. And that is very tasty. I feast on it daily, this life I have waited for and built. Good friends I have missed for years, and Shaun like a torch, beating across the water-
That means he lives across the Puget Sound from me and Seattle. Pervs.
That fills my gush quota for the day. In case you need to hear something snarky to be sure it is still me writing, I will tell you that I hate the busses here and they are stupid. Time to buy a car. All Mini Coopers, BMWs and Hondas that wish to be sold for $2,000.oo please apply via comments.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
LaLa Land=Los Angeles. Not a state of perpetual ignorance.
Just to clear up the meaning of my facebook status.
Things I love:
Hotel rooms, which are sexy and fun.
Dark eyelash glue
Webcams
Eric and Charla coming to the show last night
Coffee, eternally
Making money on my own terms
Things I hate:
The bouncer with the beard that looks like poo from Boulevard 3
Automatic toilets
The effects of day 12, post-wax
I will now take this time to expound upon the glory of New York in pictures.
Imported novelty of delight:
Ladies in Times Square:
Miguel likes his job.
This thing I hold, it is the statue of liberty. I promise.
Self explanatory:
Shredder in her element:
Becca. Eat it!
Underground. Maria and Lee.
In three days I'll be home, after a two month absence. Relief and despair. Time to go.
Things I love:
Hotel rooms, which are sexy and fun.
Dark eyelash glue
Webcams
Eric and Charla coming to the show last night
Coffee, eternally
Making money on my own terms
Things I hate:
The bouncer with the beard that looks like poo from Boulevard 3
Automatic toilets
The effects of day 12, post-wax
I will now take this time to expound upon the glory of New York in pictures.
Imported novelty of delight:
Ladies in Times Square:
Miguel likes his job.
This thing I hold, it is the statue of liberty. I promise.
Self explanatory:
Shredder in her element:
Becca. Eat it!
Underground. Maria and Lee.
In three days I'll be home, after a two month absence. Relief and despair. Time to go.
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