So Perfect

Last night I turned down some work. It wasn’t exactly on purpose and it didn’t feel good at the time.

Not until I cooked myself dinner and lunches for the week, took a bath, repotted a plant, washed my hair to beautiful perfect curly perfection!

And then today I came into work and saw the faces of everyone who was here last night. Not listening to each other, forgetting things. Overtired.

I’m so glad I gave myself a night off in the middle of a crazy work week! I deserve it!

What is the perfection I’m not seeing?

There is always something. It’s not about seeing a silver lining in a cloudy storm. It’s about seeing absolute perfection, joy.

Why is this perfect for me right now?

It’s perfect for me and for the people I’m keeping safe by having my head on straight.

I’m so lucky. It’s so perfect.

Sleep No More, Club Sesso, and Voyeurism

Tonight I finally got to see Sleep No More at the McKittrick Hotel.

Let’s talk about voyeurism.

According to Dictionary.com:

vo·yeur·ism

 [vwah-yur-iz-uhm, voi-, voi–uh-riz-]

noun

The practice of obtaining sexual gratification by looking at sexual objects or acts, especially secretively.

Not to give away anything for those who haven’t seen the show yet but the action plays out on various floors and in various rooms of an “abandoned hotel” and you follow (or don’t) the performers around to follow (or not) the story. While wearing a full face mask.

So you’re watching people have very intense moments, in various states of dress, while wearing a mask, surrounded by other people wearing masks. If you’re someone who thinks about voyerism in general it can be an exceptionally meta experience. Watching the show; watching other people watch the show; watching other people watch you watch the show; it just goes on.

It’s sort of like if every time you clicked on a link a little bubble popped up that told you all the other people in the world who were clicking on it at the same time as you.

It reminded me very much of this NSFW website which shows terms being searched on porn sites in real time. Watching other people watching.

It also reminded me of a section of Oh Joy Sex Toy’s review of Club Sesso where she describes the private rooms at the club and how the people involved use the architecture to convey how much exposure they want. In the show there were sections where you had to be invited behind a door- exclusive, sections in large open halls- public and sections in small rooms or hallways- don’t get too close. And then there was the roaming which you were invited to take part in. Walk around and check stuff out.

As I walked around I couldn’t help thinking “This is someone’s wet dream,” all this sexuality, vulnerability and voyeurism. It’s a beautiful experience and an even more interesting exploration of how humans choose to interact with each other given exponentially more choices than in any regular situation. I was pleased to see that most everyone was very respectful, even in large groups and tight spaces. That’s the thing about when people are given unexpected freedoms, sometimes they surprise you by not taking liberties.

The Night Clay Aiken Made Me Laugh And Cry

So we all know I’m addicted to The Hairpin for various reasons and tonight I randomly clicked on one of their hilarious and appropriately titled articles (The Night Clay Aiken Saved My Life) with a fantastic ending I’d like to straight up Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V (Warning, go read the article now.  I’m literally about to give away the ending).

From within the “behavioral health facility” Mike and the author watch Clay Aiken sing on the finale of American Idol.

“He has to win,” whispered Mike.

“I have to go,” I answered. “I just had the lamest epiphany in the history of the world.”

…you can’t pick your epiphanies. They find you when they feel like it, in their own good time, in whatever form fits the knowledge you didn’t know you needed. Rarely ideal or elegant, real epiphanies are often inconvenient, if not downright undignified. If you wait for the lightning to work, you risk missing the messier truths that show up in unexpected, embarrassing places … like, say, Date Night in the loony bin.

Alright, now that I’ve skipped the entire joke and gone straight for the punch line just like my dad did at passover every year when I was little, I can say that when I read this I laughed out loud alone in my room and then immediately cried.

An epiphany is a magical thing.  Just ask Sweeney Todd.  But if you’re not in a musical they rarely take place where they’re easy to have or to capture.

Epiphanies happen.  You don’t live in a movie so you probably won’t be wearing makeup or have a camera trained on your face to catch every detail of the moment.  You might just be holding hands with a drug addicted stranger under a scratchy blanket in a mental hospital.

I guess you better learn to write.

Why This Job Now?

I think this is why I make art.

I’m graduating soon, which of course means my obligatory crisis of faith is fast approaching.  And I’ve been asking myself why I want to work in theater.  And I’ve been asking myself if I want to work in theater.  And the answers don’t always please me.  And I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t please the people who have been paying for my education for the last four years.

This guy visits cities going through horrible terror, war, poverty, you name it.  And he makes their lives better through art.  And through him, their stories, their struggles, their hardships can travel and we can stand with them.  And they can live another day knowing someone cares.

Because maybe art doesn’t change the world.  But at least everything you see changes you a little.

Children Of The Revolution

As a lady of the theater I can’t help but think that maybe we creatures of the underworld can’t afford to love.  And that we have lots of reasons for it every day.

First of all we have appearances to uphold.  That’s what this quote meant in context.

But beyond that, I find we just don’t have the time.  Normal people go to work in the day and then come home to their lover.  Or can use that time to go on dates.  We have unpredictable hours.  Last week I had most of my evenings free and starting next week I won’t have a minute to myself.  Especially after dark.

But what I think really kills us is that our job is to study relationships. Usually broken ones.  Plays are about relationships.  Fathers and sons.  Husbands and wives.  Dukes and prostitutes.  Harry and Sally.  When you spend that much time watching relationships crumble and secrets unfold it has to change you.

Perhaps into a creature of the underworld.  Who can’t afford to love.

The entertainment industry can do some pretty messed up things to a person.  Sometimes you wish you hadn’t been allowed to see the man behind the curtain.

See the things that are wrong with the creatures of the light.  The ones you’re supposed to love.

I guess that’s what hope is for.