Above, you’ll see your friend Kristina having one of many scripted/un-scripted onstage nervous breakdowns as part of the five part APACUNT panels.
Three cities in one week. This is how we do it. I got back to LA on Wednesday afternoon, only to do another show here last night for the Breaking the Bow Festival. Tonight I head to San Francisco for my cousin’s wedding and a talk a college class in Oakland on Tuesday. Somewhere between all this, I’m vowing to edit my short film for the Tavis Smiley blog, write some new stuff to perform at the LA Storytelling Festival next month, rework this old script for me and D’Lo to perform in November, write a City of LA grant, and maybe a few more if I can get my hands on them and not get sick… will that even be possible?
Well, one thing’s for sure! Staying busy sure does stave off the existential crisis shit.
In NYC I must say that my personal hygiene hit an all time low. I’d wake up each morning in my friend’s basement in total darkness (it was the bottom floor of her loft), hungover from the show and drinking the night before and each morning had to decide in a flurry: “Shower or eat?” The eating usually won. My gums would not stop bleeding every time I brushed my teeth. Pretty much everyone at the Festival and East Village knows what I look like without make-up… and I’m talking raccoon eyes, walk of shame at 4am– that kind of no-makeup. I ran out of underwear a few days before leaving and had to get creative (I won’t tell you how). By the end of my stay little fruit flies would float over my head (I forgot I had bought bananas the week before that had gone bad) in my friend’s loft. So I ate six bananas in two days (don’t ask what that does to one’s digestive track). All this, moving at a furiously paced New York minute, yanking pounds and pounds of crap around the East Village and back to Brooklyn at all hours of the night.
I began to feel my organs disintegrating into the rest of my body by the second day of performance. At our last show I was so exhausted, I almost passed out onstage but then channeled it into an amazing (or so I think) onstage nervous breakdown that wasn’t in our script. I hosted the Kong Magazine roll-out party in Brooklyn before I left town. I almost fell asleep in the corner of the bar by the end of the night and yet, we were done at 9pm.
My flight back to LA was in two legs. The first too cold, I shivered and held my own body in my arms for warmth, my muscles straining to heat themselves even inside my jacket. The second leg of the flight was too hot. I was sweating, arching my face towards that fan thing above your seat.
I had a few minutes this morning to reflect and rest and was struck in my inactivity with a strong sense of under-accomplishment. What is it about working so hard that all I can think about is how nice it would be to rest. And that when I get rest, I feel so unaccomplished that I need to work more? And harder?
My awesome trans friend Riku commented that this has been the gayest week of my life. And more awesome than that, he said that I may have actually “out-gayed” our gay as hell friend D’lo this week.
It really has. I was out campaigning for “No on Prop 8″ on Wednesday. It had been a while since I stood out on the street with a sign rallying. And yesterday, I coordinated “Kristina’s Lesbian Jamboree.” It was a gathering of lesbians and their friends in West Hollywood. It was about getting the married lesbians out of the house. Introducing my lesbian friends to each other. And also building some awareness around “No on Prop 8.”
And oddly enough, for a gathering of Lesbians, it was not that dramatic.
I still struggle with pinning my “orientation” down to any one word. And though many speculated that I may have definitely been bi- or bi-curious when I rode my bicycle with the “Dykes on Bikes” at Pride a couple years back, I was still mums about how it is I identify myself.
But I’ve decided this week to come out of the closet.
Ladies and Germs, I am a loud and proud Gesbian.
I know this may come to a surprise to all of you. Particularly, this may be hard on my family who like my friends, are still trying to figure out what a “Gesbian” is. (I want my family to know that I love them and that I would never do this to hurt them.) I’m sure my family and friends are worried about me– getting “Gesbian bashed,” being discriminated against for being a “Gezzie,” and will I have the right to marry another Gesbian? Could I have kids with another Gezzie?
I’m ready for the scorn, the discrimination, the Gesbiphobia. Because this is who I am. And I refuse to be someone else. I’ve hidden it for so long. But at my core, I’m a GESBIAN.
Last night my two good girlfriends who are partnered and are absolutely meant for each other sent a late night email that they are getting married today at City Hall. I think if they had the choice they would have waited to plan their wedding more at their pace. But right now, they don’t know if they will have the choice after November 4. So they are rushing to do this.
I cry now as I re-read their words and the passion behind them.
“those of you who are closest to us know how much we care for and love one another and most of you understand the commitment we continue to make in our “practice” of lifelong love. it is not a magical something that just appears, even when it feels magical. it is the practice of committing and trying and learning that makes our life together strong and lasting. homophobia and heterosexism do not always give us the best options when it comes to this practice.
“we are hoping that in the awful event that proposition 8 passes, our marriage will not be retroactively nullified. and therefore, affording us all the rights and benefits that married couples have in the state of california.
“we would love to share this moment with all of you, so please keep us in your thoughts tomorrow as we marry. please keep us in your thoughts when you vote on Tuesday. the best you can do for us is to vote NO on Proposition 8.”
I think it is remarkable….
That they believe in their love this much that they will stand up against the ignorance of homophobia and heterosexism to have that love.
That consenting adults still have to fight for the right to love who they love. And that other entities will spend so much money and energy to stop other consenting adults they do not know from marrying each other.
That their marriage ceremony does not have the luxury of being planned with the time that a straight couple has to plan, and that it still risks being nullified if something as archaic as Prop 8 passes.
I am not getting married anytime soon to neither a man nor a woman. In fact, if you remember, I am married to myself and would love the government to recognize my marriage as a real legal binding contract. And on top of that, I am a pioneer in the fight for Gesbian rights and visibility.
I am working on the “No on 8″ campaign because it affects my friends. It’s about equality and that’s something that we all should be concerned about. I am encouraging you to vote “No on 8″ because discrimination should not be written into the constitution. (Leave that shit for reality TV!)
Yet again, the economy has interrupted any semblance of normal sleep patterns to bring me….
THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW I SHALL RETIRE! AND MAKE MONEY IN THE AILING STOCK/ HOUSING MARKET!
How is it I am becoming my parents? I never thought I’d be obsessed with things like retirement and the stock market. I always figured if I got old and had no savings that I’d do background work in movies because old people doing extra work seems to be in really high demand– at least now it does. That, or I’d do the equivalent of what the 70+ year old Thai Elvis does at Palms Thai Restaurant in Hollywood– dress up as “Chinese Barbara Streisand” and sing standards at a Chinese restaurant in my olden years. I guess by the time I am old, movie studios will figure out how to CGI background actors into scenes so we will be totally unnecessary. For this Brave New World– I must be prepared!
Somehow, as of late, I’ve turned the corner and there it was ahead of me… the great beyond of living up your artsy 20s comes the realities of getting older. And the scary realities of what this economy is doing to the market for artists. I have a few engagements coming up, but nothing like what it used to be. Playgirl has folded. My friends can’t even budget enough to go out for a beer, let alone live theater. More dates are going dutch on this classy broad than I think necessary.
So rather than drown, I choose flight. Who is coming with me?
I’ll always be an artist, AND I will always be a financially savvy one. I have long since rejected labels like “starving artist,” “struggling artist” or “poor artist.” Because the more you let people call you that (and the more you call yourself that), the more you become it.
At the same time, “living rich” doesn’t mean you should blow your savings at the bar, or outspend your means because you “deserve it.” I see this happen so much. I have friends who are drowning in debt, or worse, filing for bankruptcy in their 20s and 30s.
For a half second, when I was tired of writing grants, I contemplated marrying into wealth by going on Bravo’s “The Millionaire Matchmaker”– but there ain’t no free lunch sisters. That show is so sad. All these millionaires dating out of work actresses with no sense of identity. All these women desperately clawing towards these douches.
Listen to me! I am married to myself! Women need to learn to take care of themselves without the help of men. Yes, and we must learn to take care of the family with only a little, if any, of their help. We must have our own backs. It sucks, but we must do it!
The scary thing is in my last few relationships, I’ve been the “rich” one… WTF?!
I’m reading all sorts of wikihow articles on how the stock market works, how to be rich, and how to invest. Here are some interesting things from the how to be rich article.
This update is dedicated to all the great findings here in the last days of my residency.
My new fishing buddy Aaron is perhaps the youngest living male in the City of Englewood at the ripe age of 27. Too bad I’m married huh? This is the snook he caught this morning. Because they are protected (spawning season), he threw it back.
Here’s a snapper we caught! A bit small but still good to eat! It was the first fish that I have eaten straight from the water. I don’t know why Aaron’s shorts look like they are falling down like that in this picture. I don’t remember them doing that in real life. (Oh the mockery of this cat lady. Oh the mockery.)
But boy, do I love having all these adventures with my wife! She’s so much fun!
But it was no easy task to clean a fish! Yuck! Check out this video of him cleaning the fish…. That thing wouldn’t die!
After! The snapper was actually very small and very bony. So we got all of two bites of fish in each filet.
I’m still kinda crap as a fisherwoman. My new show, CAT LADY that premieres next week uses a lot of fishing (a great way to excuse all this leisure time as “research”). Here is some once live bait I used that got a huge bite on it’s side. I’m all bait and no bite I tell you.
We also got a great full moon sunset out here where the tide was so low that sand dunes appeared. Places where the water normally goes to your waist or higher, you could walk right through.
Watch as I narrate the sunset. On full moon nights there is a rare burst of green light that appears when the sun goes down. You can’t see it in the video but it’s still gorgeous to take in everything else you can get from the video.
See how low the water gets?
I thought this was a good picture of Sonja doing what she does best. Photography!
Later that full moon night we went looking for sea turtles laying eggs. We thought it best to split up and each patrol in a different direction. I saw two fresh sea turtle nests and Sonja saw one. But we didn’t see the turtles. It’s nuts because they lay eggs in holes that they make at least 18 inches deep and then they cover them before going back to the water. So they must have worked fast because we totally missed them. I think I saw a turtle as she was leaving the nest she made. I think I saw her back as she disappeared in the tide.
This is what a fresh sea turtle nest looks like! You can see two sets of tracks (one going from the water, and one going back to the water). The little mound is where the turtle dug, laid, and buried her eggs.
In the morning, Sonja and I woke up super early to watch the sea turtle patrol dig up nests that were past gestation. The patrol is made up of cool volunteers who dig up nests, then count the numbers of non-viable eggs and hatched eggs. They also keep track and protect the area around new eggs. Sometimes they find live or dead baby turtles in the nests they dig up.
Here are the eggs they dug up. A lot were not good, but the ones that still might hatch are reburied closer to the surface where they will get more heat and the babies will have an easier time digging their way out.
When a new nest is discovered by the patrol, the nest is marked by a stake that records the nest number, date of laying, and the initials of the people patrolling. This is the nest Sonja found the night before. The “KW” is yours truly!
Here are two geckos, mocking me with their lovemaking.
Here is a video I made of them. It’s not very clever. And moves as much as the above photo. Gecko penises are red btw.
Sonja knows how to handle my camera better than me. Here I am in the gulf with the Hermitage House behind me. Today the water was so clear we could see our feet at the bottom.
I also have made a lot of crafts while here. The local wildlife has inspired a lot of new animal shapes.
If my fishing skills suck, at least I can improvise!
Here is a dead mouse I’m using in Cat Lady.
And of course! Sea turtles! If I can’t spot them live, I can at least make them. This is for the woman who nominated me to come here.
Come on, you know you want to see another sunset photo! It feels like every sunset is so different here.
The exterminator came today but still these roaches roam the bathroom here. So today I decided, if I can’t beat them, cast them. I tell you, it isn’t easy to shoot, star, and kill in your own short film. These are both pretty good. The second one is more dramatic. Bug killing makes for the perfect subject for a short film. Characters, conflict, rising action, climax, and resolution.
Today I went to the local playhouse to watch how they do community theater out here. The local playhouse is all volunteer run and their theater building (which used to be a funeral home) is getting too small for just 99 seat audiences so they are moving to a 300 seater. It’s amazing to see how many people come out for theater on a weekday because they want to and what else is there to do really? I definitely began to see how I am pretty much staying in a retirement community. I think the median age there was 106. Everyone was so sweet. The actors were pretty good, and some of them sell real estate on the side! They even let me draw the raffle ticket winner before the show.
The craziest thing happened. There was a big thunderstorm during the show and this lightning struck and the lights went out in the theater. At first it seemed like an amazing cue. We think the lighting hit the transformer by the theater. They kept the show going by having their tech people shine flashlights on the actors. It was pretty incredible how pro they were about it.
Equal opportunity commode!!
One of the members of the Board of Directors was like, “You should do your show at our playhouse.” He obviously has not seen my work. I can imagine doing a show there. Doing a fake orgasm on the stage for the seniors? My crazy ass at a playhouse that does strictly Neil Simonesque plays? Oh boy.
No need to rush the inevitable, really.
I am so into these collage posters for their plays. When is the photo collage coming back?!!? Screw Adobe Illustrator!
I also saw Asian people for the first time today at a restaurant. I wanted to talk to them and ask them about their lives and ask them if they ever miss home or want to get pregnant and smoke and drink six months in.
I told the Board members today about the smoking bartender and the shoddy selection of men out here. They were really funny about it. One volunteered that the locals were “neanderthals.” They told me that local Floridians are called “Crackers.” Like the title of this painting below that was for sale at the theater.