I finally started writing my musical for The Bushwick Starr, which opens in just over a year. It's a large scale horror fashion musical that takes place on a runway (maybe) and an expansion of my late night serial for The Bats, The House of Von Macrame, which ran for six weeks at The Flea this year. The plot revolves around a psychic model and a hunky fashion photographer who unwittingly become involved in a series of occult murders within the fashion industry. Think The Eyes of Laura Mars mixed with Suspiria mixed with The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Anyway.
I've been watching a lot of vintage modeling, which is like heaven for me. Check out some of these awesome glamour sessions:
The wonderful photographer John Alexander took a portrait of me on this weird old-timey camera that he built. You have to stay perfectly still for a minute and a half, so much like photos of great grandma, the subjects end up looking sort of melancholy or angry.
I'm going to use this as a headshot in programs and books and so forth.
If only I were really this handsome. The only thing that could make this picture better is if I were shirtless and wet.
I'm bored of the way I look and I want a new hairstyle. Generally when i get my haircut I get some variation on the cuts these Burberry models are sporting (especially the one on the right):
Keep in mind that i don't look like that because I'm a regular person and not a model. Anyway, I'd kind of like to start wearing my hair in a more classic slicked back look like George Clooney in this photo:
Or fashion favorite (and boner jam) Chuck Bass in this photo:
Can I do this without being a douchebag? Can I pull it off? If so, is it an every day look or only for certain occasions?
Also, I just bought these glasses, which I plan to take to my optometrist to put in regular prescription lenses.
I love sunglasses turned into regular glasses. That's how I got these Ralph Lauren frames.
Also, I just bought a bright yellow coat that I may or may not be too shy to wear.
If there's a God he's totally selfish. He keeps taking the good ones. Zelda Rubensteing, JD Salinger, and now Alexander McQueen. He should even things out by taking some uggos now. I suggest Fred Phelps. Or even Pat Robertson. Or maybe that hog fart, Maggie Gallagher.
Goodbye, Alexander. You were too beautiful for this dreary old world.
My love of fitness VHS and vinyl has taken me to a lot of weird places. Jackie Stallone's Silver Foxes, Alyssa Milano's Teen Steam. Facercise and Jazzercize. But this is the most fucked up, weirdo shit I've ever seen. I can't keep watching it!
WHY ARE THESE DOGS DOING AEROBICS? Poodles are so thin.
First cake farts and now this. You're welcome. Now don't ever say I never gave you nothin'!
Okay, I'm back. I got a little blue thanks to Haiti, living in the stupidest country ever, Outrageous Fortune, etc. I'm happy to report that some good news and exciting projects have snapped me back to my usual chipper self. Among them are The Management's next show (which is a sci-fi dance party!), the West coast premiere of MilkMilkLemonade, and a few more that I can't even talk about yet for fear of jinxing them.
I'm so, so happy about these projects, plus planning a wedding, but I'm already exhausted. I'm going to be putting my Rejuvinique (TM) to good use!
(I don't know why the didn't do an artsy tie-in and call it the Eyes Without a Facemask.)
Anyway, so as not to miss out of the conversation on Why the American Theater is Dead, I wanted to write a quick questions on "great" plays and "small" plays, because I see them getting thrown around a lot. That is, the idea that there are few "great" plays these days, or the idea that plays have gotten "small."
What do people mean when they say "great?" Do they mean it in the Great American Play sense? Something canonical? How many plays on that level do people think are written? Also, how come that canon never includes comedies? And "small." I like small plays. I like plays about families, about love affairs, about personal achievements and disappointments. Is Raisin in the Sun a "small" play? Does that make it not great? Are small plays not great?
I get the feeling some people among us want freaking Mother Courage or Angels in America or Ruined every single time they come to theater. Don't get me wrong... those are incredible plays. That said, I can only stomach Ruined once, maybe twice. That shit is HEAVY. If we want people to come back to the theater, we ought not punch them in the gut every time. A theater with only "great" plays by this gloomy standard (my standards for "great" are looser), would be like a lifetime of only watching movies by Lars Von Trier. Depressing and dull.
When i walk over to my DVD shelf to pick out a movie, I pick an Angels in America once a year, maybe. Sometimes I'm in the mood to cry and reflect on the human condition. More often than not though I grab Reform School Girls, which i happen to think is both "small" and "great", thank you very much. It has Wendy O. Williams in it!
Hailey looks so pleased with herself, doesn't she?
Looking past what a disgusting person Hailey Glassman is inside, and even ignoring that vile Ed Hardy shirt (makes her look like a carny at the county fair), the bandana (I wonder if her hair is attached to it), and loathsome Ugg boots (seriously, stop it with the Uggs) WHAT IN GOD'S GOOD NAME IS WRONG WITH WOMEN TODAY AND THESE GOD DAMN SWEAT PANTS?
Ladies of America, it is not okay for you to leave your house or gym in sweat pants unless you are going for a jog. Period. Not okay. And there is no such thing as a "designer" sweat suit. Somehow these new fangled swaet suits are even uglier than the teal ones my mother wore to clean out the roof gutters, mostly because they enable me to see your genitalia through them. Seriously, I can see your cha cha and your ass looks like a runny old egg. Is that why it says "juicy" across it? Because it's like a fried egg?
I'm exhausted. I don't want to live in a world with these pants anymore. I'm too sensitive. At least they ARE pants, unlike the tights that countless women walk around pretending are pants when they most certainly are NOT pants.
I have a genuine and well documented fear of or repulsion of super long hair. Ladies, don't get all upset or insecure. I mean really, really long hair. Past your butt long. Renaissance festival, Crystal Gale long.
I don't know why, but I feel really nervous when i see those flyaway hairs. It just looks unhealthy and weird and unclean to me. Do see them combing it is obscene and if I'm ever so unlucky that it touches me, I shudder. I have no idea where this comes from, but it's genuine and deeply embedded. (I also hate horse's tails, which seem similar, and touching any untreated wood. I never said I was rational or normal!)
That said, people will occasionally leave pictures like this on my Facebook or in my inbox:
And I think, "My friends are jerks!" and I laugh it off.
Then, today, The Boyfriend emails me a picture from his phone, subject, "Neigh!" I open it up and get this:
I'm glad it's braided and thus put away, sort of, but hurt that The Boyfriend hates me and is clearly not involved in this relationship.
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