If you had purchased tickets this morning to the theater where I work, here's part of an email you might have received:

Dear Patron:

Your Such&Such ticket order has been processed and mailed to you on (insert full date).

Please remember that there are no refunds or exchanges for any performance.

Sincerely,

What am I, a bumbling 16 year old intern? I fixed the email and sent it out again. Idiotic.

have I told you lately that I love you?

There's a reason why.

I didn't have any food in my apartment this morning for breakfast (unless I wanted to make macaroni & cheese and prune juice, which I didn't) so I headed out early to stop by Whole Foods on my way to work. I spend my time on the train fantasizing about the delicious assortment of foodstuffs I could potentially buy. These fantasies mostly centered around baked goods, scones, bagels, whathaveyou. But when I arrived and looked at the selection I remember that the Columbus Circle Whole Foods has shit ass baked goods. Everything is always too dry and overcooked, thick and hard. I was immensely disappointed. I ended up buying a champagne mango (I'd never seen one before) and some kefir. That's my breakfast and lunch. Washed down with mini peanut butter cups and some tears.

I was on the phone with a local book store and had the urge to go crazy. A specific kind of crazy. I wanted to be that person who sincerely believed he was always in the right even when making things up that never happened. I think it's called self-delusion and it's very appealing.

When I woke up this morning I decided that my task for today was would was would

I've changed my mind. My task for today is to work on my grammar.

I decided my task for today would be to make a list of what I love and what I hate about my life. Does anyone see where this is going? While I was "making" breakfast I began the list in my head but after about a minute I realized it was just going to make me unhappy. My list of pros took about 15 seconds to flesh out but my list of cons seemed unending. I had to stop. I had already been pretty upset and despondent over the role of art in my life and, more specifically, the role of my life in art. I couldn't see my life changing in any way to allow myself to become the artist I want to be. It's scary and deeply depressing. I think part of the problem is that I like to take safe "risks." I can't talk about that anymore, at least not in the blogging forum.

So here's the thing that I'm excited about and alluded to earlier. I'm going to be in a pilates machine certification course. And I don't have to pay! That's really the best part. I'm at the pilates studio right now typing this. The owner prefer to call it a fitness lab. It's not a gym (I agree) but it's more than a pilates studio so: fitness lab. That's just hard for me to say. In return for free certification I owe them 300 hours of my life, starting last Sunday. I'll be "working" here until about next December. I'm working the front desk and let me tell you, I work it, baby. Meaning I bull shit prospective clients hoping they won't discover that I don't know what I'm talking about. I really don't. I've never attending any of the classes here, nor met any of the personal trainers. The thing I'm best at is talking about pilates because even though I haven't seen anyone in action I know enough about the body in relation to pilates to sound pretty convincing. The actual classes for the certification haven't started yet, first one's this Tuesday. I'll let you know how it goes. But for now I'm enjoying myself. Sitting alone in a sunny large studio reading and listening to whatever music I want. Sounds great huh?

zen

If you spill orange colored soup on an orange colored shirt, will it leave a stain?

Ponder that question and find inner peace.

P.S. The answer is yes.

in the beginning

I've started a new project.

Here's a closer shot.

Doesn't it look complicated? And annoying? Well, it isn't one of those but is the other. It may not seem like much now but pretty soon it'll be a beautiful, though scratchy, something. And I didn't spend money on new yarn! Hence the scratchiness. I'm using yarn I bought over 11 years ago when I lived in France. That's where I learned how to knit. My first project was a sweater (a little ambitious) and I bought too much yarn by about 7 skeins*. Those skeins have since been living in my various closets. I don't remember the yarn being so scruffy when I bought it but it certainly is now. Maybe I can soften it up somehow.

During lunch today I bought yet another bag of mini eggs. HL at first made fun of my obsession but after eating about 20 he's coming around. They are so good. My little eggies. My little chocolate abortions. Tasty.

*skein: a loosely coiled length of yarn or thread wound on a reel

bland-o-rama

Something happened today that could potentially be good. I don't want to talk about it too much in case it doesn't work out. But I'm pretty excited. Of course, the last time I was this excited about this type of thing I turned out to be pretty miserable by the end.

Today I planned on making some gloves out of yarn that I bought in France when I was 16 but, when I finally found a pattern (I have no idea how to make gloves) I discovered that I brought the wrong needles to work. So now that's my task for Monday. I wonder if there's a way to soften this yarn. I remember it being softer when I first bought it but it's been 11 years, sitting in various closets the whole time. Now it's pretty scratchy. I don't care. I need some gloves. Nothing too fancy, this'll be another practice project. Later on they'll get more stylin'.

I have a strike to work tomorrow and I'm not going to let it get me down. I signed up for it with gusto over a month ago but now I'm regretting it. Whatever, I need the money.

In closing, would you like to read an interview that provides insight into the state of dance and its intelligent, thougtful artists? Click here. I know you want to...and some of you have to [Erin]. (This is not the same artist I was complaining about before.)

past pride

For my post today I present

My First Fair Isle Project

It's knitting with two colors at the same time! Isn't it something? Or other? It didn't fit anyone. It was too slim and too tall. A little like me. I used some yarn I had purchased for a different project to practice this technique so I could later make a similar hat for Bannie, which I did. At that one was a little too big. So much for my practicing. Later, I unraveled this hat and remade it with a new pattern to (almost) fit my sister's head. Of course, as soon as I put it in the mail I remembered that I'd wanted to take a picture of it. Hopefully she'll soon send me a picture of her wearing it that I can post.

all about crafts

It turns out that the knitting book for men I just bought isn't so great. I was just looking it over and nowhere does the author list a table for the abbreviations he uses. I think they're probably hidden throughout the book when he describes different techniques but when, right on page 30, he already introduces the first knitting pattern and uses terms like "Sl 1 pwise wyif" I don't know how he expects his readers to follow along. When I glance at that I like to read it as "knit 1 purlwise what the fuck!" Luckily I know enough to accurately decipher that mess but what's an inexperienced knitter to do. Good thing I mostly just bought it for the patterns anyway.

Speaking of which, I need to start a knitting project soon! I'm going crazy at work. Today was incredibly slow and though I'm enjoying the Amy Tan book I'm reading I can only read it for so long. I need to alternate my activities during the day and I've come to depend on knitting. What to do? I can't really afford to go buy yarn right now. I guess I could take time to read more about types of yarn and how to read yarn labels but I hate that stuff. Plus it's hard to read about knitting without actually doing anything. And frustrating.

I picked up my coat from the dry cleaners this morning and put it on right before I left for work. I had brought in a couple of buttons that had come off and asked them to be sewn back on after the coat was cleaned. This was done but the buttons were sewn in the wrong place. But they were almost right! Instead of three buttons matching the three button holes, I had two buttons matching the lower two holes and then one extra button below those two matching nothing. I was so annoyed. Why in the hell would someone sew them that way? Clearly I wanted the buttons sewn on so I could, um, button them, right? I didn't have enough time to take the coat back to the cleaners but I'll probably do it tomorrow. I was going to just buy some needle and thread during lunch today and do it myself but I don't want to do it myself, that's why I paid someone else. And they should do it right. I might have to give up going there. This will delight HL, who thinks the main woman at the counter is crazy; I think she's just really really nice.

who the hell cares?

I saw The Pirate Queen last night (for free, that's important). A new(?) musical written by the creators of the musical version of Les Miserables. But before I saw The Pirate Queen I was a bad friend. I completely forgot about a previous engagement and felt awful about it, for several reasons. All I can say about that is that the next one will be better and I'll stay for more than 15 minutes. I'm very sorry MNS and Miss M. I'll make it up to you somehow.

Since I was attending the final dress of The Pirate Queen the audience was filled with people from "the industry." A lot of people who were connected with the show in some way or with other Broadway shows. So mostly a lot of young people who were really into musicals, really into themselves and really into each other. It was awkward and fascinating at the same time. Sadly, I had no one with which to share this experience so most of the night I made snide comments to myself, I'm my own best friend! We're so good together. What a bore that show was. It wasn't quite bad, nothing made me particularly angry, it was just incredibly boring. The songs were all over the place, nothing memorable at all, the set was unimpressive, the choreography subpar, an all around snooze. At intermission I took my bag with me to the bathroom; I didn't trust any of the musical buffs around me to watch my stuff, they had such shifty eyes. Then when I left the bathroom I thought it would be just as easy to walk out the door as walk back to my seat. So I left. No second act. I don't think I missed much.

theatre theater

Last week was another week of theater for me. As I already said I saw Meredith Monk (+) and William Forsythe (-). Then yesterday I saw Spalding Gray: Stories Left to Tell (+) and An Evening with Philippe Decoufle (+)*, who's a French choreographer and director. The company I work for was given free tickets to Spalding Gray, or else I probably wouldn't have gone. And that would have been okay. The show consisted of four actors, two men and two women, retelling a compilation of Gray's stories. When one actor would begin to speak, I would think, "Hmm, you're my least favorite" only to have that title given to the very next actor who spoke. So most of the performance I tried to figure out who I liked least. I didn't hate any of them but I didn't particularly like them either. This was quite the breasty show too, where the women were concerned. For some reason their breasts were pushed up and in like nobody's business. It was pretty distracting. What carried this show was Spalding Gray's superb writing. At the end of the show one of the women was retelling a story about a time Gray danced around with his family to a Chumbawamba song. At the end, that song began playing while a video of Spalding Gray telling the same story (sans sound) was played on the back wall. It brought a tear to my eye. A few tears. It was such a great, sweet story and the video brought home that he was really gone. I'm not usually one to remember specifics concerning other's lives but I remember what I was doing when I heard Spalding Gray's body was found.

Later Sunday evening I saw a bunch of videos choreographed/directed by Philippe Decoufle. I first saw his work when I was in college and the ad in Time Out had a still of the video I had seen. I recognized it and bought a ticket and I'm glad I did. He's a pretty clever guy. Some of his work was a little dull but mostly only when he fell dance conventions, for the most part he's inventive and original and fun and strange. Here's the video I first saw in college. I think it's a more accessible example of his work. Yes, yes, I know you don't want to watch a video on someone's blog, but it's fun. I promise.


And here's a probably less accessible one, but I still love it.


I like his work enough to actually consider seeing his solo show playing at The Joyce. The Joyce! Crunchy bone central. Where old women go to see non-offensive traditional but billed as avant-garde dance. I think they'll be in for a surprise with this show. That's probably why it's not selling that well.

*Not all (+)s are equal.

I've been spending money on a whim lately. It needs to stop. Or maybe it doesn't. A few days ago I bought a book by Michael Dorris and one by Salman Rushdie. Then I bought The Road, the book Meredith Monk mentioned, a CD of her music and another book that I haven't read for about 7 years but remember loving, so I hope I still do. And today I bought a book on knitting for men. I didn't even take much time to read it. But I saw a few patterns I liked and techniques I hadn't done before so I grabbed it. Granted I've been spending most of my money on books but still. I didn't buy any ice cream when I got home today. That took some effort.

I'm coming for you!

Watch your back. Look under your bed. My evil lizard and I are prowling the streets and if we find you, you'd better believe we're gonna make you watch some creepy performance art! Mwaa ha ha!

Seriously though, I wish I could make myself look this way in real life, I'd use it all the time.

Or maybe like this

But still be able to go back to my normal, narcissistic, beautiful self.

MNS and I went to BAM last night to see Three Atmospheric Studies, choreographed by William Forsythe. I don't know why I ever go to theater without bringing a notebook and pencil. Do they expect me to just sit and watch the performance? I can't do that. I find I get some great thinking done at bland performances, but I have to be able to write my thoughts down. I thought more about the muumuu piece, a scene involving a rolling pin and lipstick and a lot of repetition. What will become of that thought? Who knows. The best thing I can say about last night was that I got to spend time with MNS. The second best thing I can say is that I had long train ride home and got to spend lots of time reading a book I just bought. There was a part of the performance where a woman was kind of going crazy and getting all disjointed, that was kind of interesting. And that's all I have to say about that.

Pictures taken by HL on his brand new gorgeous Mac that he wouldn't leave me alone in his room with because he knew I'd just get naked.

get your fleas outta my chips

Last night I was up late in my room with my door open, doing whatever it is I do at 1:30 in the morning, when I heard my roommate walk out of her room and into the kitchen. I didn't have any music playing so it was fairly quiet but then what did I hear but a plastic bag ruffle and then some crunching noises. Horsey was eating my goddamn chips. I always suspected she did that (and maybe ate other food of mine too) but I never had any proof. I would open up a bag of chips and notice that the level might have gone done but I wasn't positive so I never said anything. I nonchalantly walked into the kitchen last night and when I was about 10 feet away the floor creaked. I heard a slight ruffle and then saw Horsey's shadow jump towards the sink, which she turned on right when I walked in. I was too tired to say anything last night but the next time I see her I will. I actually resent having to say anything at all. It should be a common courtesy not to eat your roommate's food without their permission. Of course, it also might be a common courtesy to close the frickin' front door but that doesn't happen either. I don't know why I keep expected "so" much. I will admit that I've used a few of her eggs before but I would immediately buy more the next day to replace them. I wouldn't mind if she did that, but she never does.

But I'm not going to let that get me down. YorN and I went to a concert last night featuring Bang On A Can and Meredith Monk. It was so good. I couldn't help but smile during the entire evening. When it ended we were both extremely happy and it felt wonderful. It was like Meredith Monk had given us a present in the form of her music. She's now on my short list of artists that I will always see if they're nearby. Watching her was amazing. She clearly loves what she's doing and is good at it. Her energy was infectious. When explaining the idea behind one of her pieces she mentioned that she had just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy and that she was really into it and it inspired her. Right after the concert YorN and I went straight to Barn*s & Nobl* to buy that book. That's how much we liked her music. But they didn't have it. I'll be buying it soon though, along with more of her music.

I also noticed that a certain choreographer that I recently complained about on this blog received a full page write up in Time Out New York. Ugh. But I don't care. Good art still exists. Last night was proof of that.

another wish

This morning, pursuant of our conversation concerning living locations and long train rides, HL suggested I spend my time knitting on the subway. I looked at him and said, "I'm not that brave. I might as well just have some guy fucking me from behind while I'm at it. Oh wait, that would really kind of be my ideal date: knitting while getting fucked. I'd just need to throw on some anime and things'd be perfect."

Now how well do you know me?