Games Without Frontiers

Good night with CRP playing trivia at Jack/Woods. They have a fun format. The whole night was a great exercise in letting go, being here now, and enjoying things as they are (as opposed to how I think they should be). I still crave routines and stability (trivia? On a Monday???? I do trivia on Sundays, thank you) but "you blink, and it's over." This too shall pass. Be here, now. It is what it is. The new normal might be trivia on Mondays.

It was a fun trivia game with a lightning round and everything. Good stuff. Fun Trivia Meister, good crowd.

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The Magician

Joined the Asheville Movement Collective today for an "ecstatic dance" - I love that description. It reminds me of Sufis and whirling dervishes and nuns on the brink of orgasm. And the idea behind the Collective is the same: to strip your mind of random thoughts and ego and reach a meditative state through motion. The guide gave the group a general prompt (think about the person you are when you dance and how you present that part of yourself to he world. Is that good or bad?)

It's great for me, I like myself when I dance. People like to watch me dance. I like just immersing myself in the music and turning the vibrations, the sound, that energy into something physical. It's freaky magic, to me. My definition of magic is turning thought into reality. Now I'm going to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Now I'm going to create a poem. Now I'm going to build a house. That's all magical to me. You had a thought, an intangible thing...and you made it tangible.

"Look, I made a hat, where there never was a hat."

 

 

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I Dreamed a Dream

I was hired for a bit part in a TV show, a crime drama. The lead detective was played by Vincent D'nofrio and I played the smart alecky assistant. The scene was small and the dialogue was bad, but it was fun. We shot the scene in a parking lot in Wilmington. The scene required me to walk into Vincent D'nofrio's office (it was just set up between 2 cars) and hand him some papers and make small talk about mosquito bites. Bernadette Peters enters the scene, has some exposition about the crime, we ad lib some more stuff about her nasty mosquito bites and I exit.

I'm thrilled that I was able to ad lib and it seemed to be ok (I'm not great at that) and the director didn't yell "cut" as soon as I went off script. The scene continues and I go hang out with Keith behind the camera (he's doing costumes). I'm hanging out with him and the costume crew starts flying this large remote controlled helicopters. The copters are as large as oven ranges and they zoom about while everyone goes back to 1 to shoot the scene again.

I'm only half paying attention by this point. The helicopters and the conversation behind the scenes is much more interesting than the scene they're shooting, but I desperately want to impress Bernadette Peters.

I then realize they've shot the scene several times without me and I'm a little hurt but guess they realized I wasn't bringing anything to the table, I wasn't adding anything, maybe my mosquito ad libs sucked and decided to just do the scene without me. Whatever. My loss.

The Writer's Office is set up between another set of cars and I overhear chatter about the bad script.

The actor and directors are walking across the parking lot and I join in timidly (I have been just goofing off) and the director says, "You got anything to write?" and I say, "Write with?"

"No, this script is bad. Can you help us punch it up?"

I'm elated now and someone decided to pilot those helicopters again during the break and they lose control of them. One curse is let out by the owner has he realizes that these expensive copters are about to become a total loss but then the mood shifts and we all decide to just enjoy the inevitable crash and fireworks.

The first copter goes up and up and finally explodes like a balloon after its gone too high. There's a shower of sparks and fireworks and everyone is happy.

The second copter crashes behind a building with the devastation of an actual helicopter crash. People in the streets are screaming, people are dead. The blades spin over a building and crash into our set. I run and dive between two cars and feel the explosion behind me and glass and gravel skim along my back. I'm otherwise ok and thankful to get out of a close call alive.

I push myself up from the parking lot and see a bicycle fly over my head. I know it's going to cause another explosion so I run and duck in another direction but then the bike stops before it hits the ground. It stops and just floats and then changes direction mid air to start following me.

 

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Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

I was at a club and had too much to drink so my friend L brought me home to sleep in her guest room. There was some business with the dogs, getting her dogs settled and in their beds (they slept in red & white knitted pouches that hung from a hook outside the closet, like puppy papooses).

I climb into bed and overhear her having words with her husband; he wasn't expecting company, why am I here, this is an inconvenience, etc.

What can I do at this point? So I climb into bed and go to sleep.

Later her husband, G, comes in and I pretend he didnt wake me up. Then he sits at the foot of the bed and starts talking to me so I "wake up." G is completely naked. Now his face is radical in that one eye has been removed and there's a miniature, glassy barbers pole in the socket, which is held open by clamps. The other side of his face is scarred and burned from all of the surgery. He focuses on me with his one good eye when he thinks about it but when he doesn't, I'm staring at that stubby barber's pole spinning deep in his eye socket. There's also an inflatable collar around his neck, something connected to his recovery. It keeps his chin very elevated.

His face isn't that noticeable compared to his naked body. It's beautiful. From the neck down, he looks like The Perfect Man. Broad muscled shoulders and biceps, beautiful pecs, a lean abdomen, his chest and stomach covered with dark hair. I asked him if he's been working out and he doesn't reply. I ask if he's still working in his shop and he snaps at me and starts to cry, "No, I work out at the gym all day. I can't work around people with my face looking like this!"

The whole time we talk, he massages my feet. Then he stands up and I see his erection. This is about to get good but then he walks away and asks if I'll drive him and L to church. Sure.

 

 

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Three Dog Night

I'm resentful that I don't know the rules of my new life. I'm resentful that my life has new rules. Went out for 1.5 hours and came home to a pile of dog shit in the kitchen. It was Krypto, I know. I know because he hadn't had one all day. Now that we're in a house without a fence, without a doggie door, they rely on me to walk them on leashes for exercise, bathroom breaks, exploration, etc. This is all new to them AND to me. I'm excited about a lot of aspects of this new chapter of my life but I resent having to start a new chapter. I had made peace with LIVING in Wilmington. I had EMBRACED my home and all of that was not meant to be. I resent that tonight. Still...picking up dog shit in the kitchen is easier than dealing with certain other shitty aspects of my life in Wilmington.

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Another Night

Drinks with CRP and some of her co-workers.

Dinner with Gary K. He has the most stylish comfortable living space, he gave me great hope for this home.

Lots of red wine was enjoyed. His dog Cletus is super sweet.

 

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One Night, II

A set of inter-related facts

Some of the symptoms of Cushings disease in dogs include heavy, loud panting and frequent urination.

This new house does not have a doggie door and the yard is not fenced.

Where's the ribbon for Cushings, is what I want to know.