My (Long-Awaited, no doubt) Triumphal Return to Blogging

I have been away from this blog so long, and indeed, had barely ever been at the thing at all, that it's tempting to think I should simply start a new one.

But that seems wasteful. So this constitutes my triumphal return to blogging. Or maybe just my return to blogging. Or, to lower the bar still farther, this constitutes my attempt to return to, or establish for the first time, a practice of blogging.

Huzzah!

What is it about the water in Southwest Michigan?

In my apartment, everything - with the possible exception of human skin - touched by running water turns some shade of rusty brown. This seems to be true whether the surface is porcelain, plastic or whatever.

I am not some kind of housekeeping genius (I can supply testimonials) or neat-freak by any means - actually I could appear on one of those reality hoarding programs - but trying to keep the tub, toilet, sinks, and dishes a color approximating white or at least eggshell is driving me crazy.

The problem might be, in part, the fact that I have to use water - the thing that’s causing the discoloration - to clean the stains. Sort of like putting out a fire by throwing matchbooks at it.

Seasons Greetings

This photo was taken in 2001. I was using a wheelchair, finishing my BA in theatre, and working at this place the state had sent me to - a place where those of us who were disabled could work for a period of time. I sat there, stuffing envelopes, or gluing things together, or packing light objects into boxes.

We had a Christmas party; they took our pictures with Santa. Here I am with Linda (Linda on the left, me on the right), who worked at the table behind me. Linda had some kind of brain injury, I think. She was a very sweet young woman; not a great conversationalist, for she would stutter and repeat, but she was kind.

Love Smorgasbord: First Installment of the "Love List"

My friend Kai - coincidentally, also my ex-husband - wrote a blog entry on the subject of "love passes."

He also posted it on facebook (yes, who could foresee the day, a decade or so ago, that I'd be facebook friends with my ex-husband?), which is where I originally wrote the following response:

I don't have a spouse, so basically my life is one long "love pass"... I can indulge in trysts with celebrity crushes to my heart's content. Yes, it's a veritable love smorgasbord here in Kalamazoo, Michigan, as I pass from one big-name assignation to the next.

My list would be, in no particular order: Richard Buckner, Paul McGann, the Coen Bros. (individually, I think, rather than collectively, and only if they are single - so that would require a divorce or two, I reckon - hey, I'm easy but I'm no homewrecker, especially not the home of the fabulous Frances McDormand), James McAvoy (again, he'll have to divorce - sorry, Mrs. McAvoy), Jonathan Meiburg (of Shearwater), and Tom Stoppard.

I'm sure I'm leaving many lovely men off the list, but seeing as I'm spouseless anyway, a carved-in-stone list is not a requirement for this endless love-pass existence of mine.

I reserve the right to update the list as new information comes to my attention.

And not that I feel the need to explain or justify the list, but Richard Buckner has a voice that just reaches into my guts. In a good, if aching, way.

Slept - Richard Buckner

How Good Am I at Solitaire...

Very good. I'm very good at solitaire.


Also good at:
taking pictures of my cat
downloading mp3s

Here's evidence of one of the above:

Ballet der Toten Frauen

I have probably spelled the German incorrectly; that's "ballet of dead women," which is from Heiner Muller's Hamletmaschine, and which I used also as the title of a piece which was part of my solo show years ago, "Death or Serious Injury Can Occur."

I'm currently embarking on the adaptation of a ballet (indeed, a ballet of dead women), Giselle. I am doing a buttload of research; for instance, I'm watching La Sylphide, known as the first Romantic ballet (I guess Giselle is known as the second Romantic ballet - but it's also the most famous Romantic ballet).

But all's not fun and games and watching men and women dance on point.

Awkward Beginnings

The pressure to come up with a snappy title, not only for the blog but for this its first entry, is overwhelming, and yet, not enough to lead to anything like success.

I'm not sure who, besides myself and people I might randomly trick into it, will read this blog. You're reading it, apparently. Who are you, and why are you here? More importantly, will you ever make the same mistake again?