Red velvet curtains are, to me, a symbol of the sublime. They are what I am always reaching for, and the steps I take are going towards that image. The smooth hardwood floor of a stage beaten splinterless by the sweep of endless feet and the trains of costumes. And then there they are, framing the apex of the building, glowing ruby curtains that pile up on the floor. Excess of passion and purpose perfectly combined in a single image. Tonight the Nekyia is opening for Teatro Zinzanni's Cabaret Lunatique, and it's the closest I've ever come to that image. Walking into that tented-in venue is like coming home to Mecca, if Mecca were expertly tailored to my every taste. Even empty and upside down waiting for the night's audience, the glasses have the look of being filled with stars. Everything is so beautiful and so perfectly suited to its purpose that I feel stupidly cliche in my adoration of it, but don't stop anyway.
Teatro Zinzanni is a dinner/circus theater venue, and manages to be intimate and grand at the same time. Dinner theater sounds amazing to me right now. Hook me up with some weekly dinner theater. I'll perform to the smells of the night's menu and be thrilled about it. Of course this may change in time, hopefully after I've done it for a while. Once upon a time I thought performing in nightclubs was a great idea. I'm thinking dinner theater residency is the next brilliant step towards the red velvet curtains. When you lay your eyes on something you've wanted secretly, openly, shamefully for years, you know it. Everything in you seizes on it. You are immediately filled with the desire to tear anything to pieces that comes between you and the thing, and twinges of doubt in whether or not you're ready/deserving of it, which normally fall uselessly to the floor. I have felt this way only a few times; like seeing someone from a distance in an Alexandria airport, or the first time I saw a clip of Cirque du Soleil tissu.
This feeling has been a foundation of the human experience for me. If it doesn't appear in the right circumstances, it will appear in the wrong ones. A real desire (not whim or fancy) doesn't go away if you ignore it. And if you swallow it and do nothing, eventually you will see someone else doing it, and it rises up and this time it tastes exactly like bile. Bitter, and shameful, and you hope no one can smell it on you and you especially hope you can forget it ever happened. Personally, I think that desire (real desire) is our evolutionary built-in tracking device for satisfaction. Chase the dragon til you fall and cut yourself on a diamond, ignore it at your own peril.