One fun thing about a being a “freelance writer” is that you have lots more time to do lots of fun things. But the downside is you might go without a week without ever really looking at your computer, and you can’t tell the 24 amazing people that follow your blog all the really cool stuff you did.
So here are the Short Spells:
Monday: HX Gay Nightlife Awards
The 59thStreetBridge got us magically invited to HX magazine’s gay nightlife awards at the Chelsea Clearview Cinemas. There’s no better way to celebrate a new freelance status than at an open bar with gay men. By 8pm, you can be buzzed, and feel safe walking around a room and talking to all the strange men you want. The conversation consists of “You’re gorgeous!” “No, sweetie, you are gorgeous!” “But I love your style” “No, honey, I love your style!” By 10pm, I was at a gay bar watching musical theater on a big screen and got inspired to go outside and call my mom to tell her that she was gorgeous, too. Her response: “That’s very sweet, but you’re drunk. Now go back to your party.”
Tuesday: Summer Solstice at Shri Yoga
You can do all the Yoga in the world, but you’ll never find real inner peace until you’ve done yoga to the music of a live electronic/rock/classical band, Live Footage, and then nourished your soul post-practice with white wine. The practice was all about following your own inner authority. Mine clearly leans straight from downward facing dog into fermented grapes and electric cellos.
Wednesday: Dr. Strangelove
I had actually never seen this movie before. And while I primarily I renewed my MoMA membership so I could assert my independence by seeing movies alone and brag about it on my blog, I also renewed it so I could see old classics on the big screen. (with or without a companion.) It was…obviously…great. I was most struck by how it took satire to a whole new level of absurdity. The social commentary was so understated, and while the writing seemed to be largely centered on its comedic elements, the characters were entirely grounded, rounded and fleshed out. My favorite line was: “You can’t fight in the War Room.” Whenever I’m in the War Room, I like to crack jokes or talk about yoga. Then I can save my crying for odd moments during funny movies….
Thursday: Michael, My Mommy and Mexican Food
Thursday was my mother’s birthday. I’ve bought her earrings almost every year, and this year, I bought her earrings, too. I felt like that wasn’t enough, so I arranged for Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson to die, so that her birthday would be forever embedded in the minds of the American people. Sadly, her boyfriend, who is in charge of important news shows at ABC, couldn’t make dinner at Rosa Mexicano. So it was just me, my mom, my brother, eating guacamole, drinking margeritas and saying innappropriate things. Afterwards, we crashed the ABC news room, where I got to see about 200 TVs, each playing a different Michael Jackson song as the editors prepared for an all-nighter.
Friday: James Ensor/Blonde Redhead/Thriller
1) The afternoon: James Ensor at MoMA. You must see it. EOM.
“This exhibition presents approximately 120 works, examining Ensor’s contribution to modernity, his innovative and allegorical use of light, his prominent use of satire, his deep interest in carnival and performance, and his own self-fashioning and use of masking, travesty, and role-playing. Examples of Ensor’s paintings, prints, and drawings are installed in an overlapping network of themes and images to produce a complete picture of this daring, experiential body of work.”
2) Later: All week I had been very excited see Blonde Redhead at Prospect Park, mostly just to prove that I know who Blonde Redhead is. However, on the night of the show, a terrible rainstorm came to commemorate Michael Jackson’s death. My roommates decided that instead of seeing the concert, they would learn all the dance moves to Thriller. FML! Not only that, but they were kind of mad that I refused to learn all the dance moves to Thriller with them. So when the rain stopped and the sky looked gorgeous, I fled the house. I started out chasing weird cloud formations, but somehow ended up at the edge of Prospect Park. I figured that I could walk in and for at least a little while, pretend that I was enroute to meeting someone. I kept walking further and further when finally someone yelled, “RB!” It was someone I literally hadn’t seen since college, but she, and other people I hadn’t seen since college, were going to the show. They invited me to go along, proving that 90 percent of life really is showing up. The show was not too crowded, the acoustics were remarkably good, and the purple fog lighting on stage gave the whole scene a rhyme of the ancient mariner effect.
Later, at the “After Blonde Redhead Party,” I was zen enough to feel very proud of my roommates as they performed Thriller for the whole group.
1:30 am, Saturday:
Only at the very tail end of things did I have a moment of weakness. And a friend said these very kind things to me: “I read every word you ever wrote. I learned about the places you wanted me to visit. I saved money when you told me to save money. I love your writing. But it was only a small part of who you are. And you’re still all the things you always were.”
To let her know how much her words had deeply touched me, I took a brave sniffle and replied, “Wow. I can’t believe you actually saved money.”