SOUTH of anywhere

You know you're in the South when you spend your afternoon in a gun range (that doesn't explain gun safety to a novice, because what are those?), the trucks have fuzzy confederate flag dice hanging from their review mirror and need a ladder to climb into, and when people consider 75 degrees to be a cold winter. Spring Break is going by so fast it's hard to keep up. With only a few days left in the South my Yankee Doody Dandy butt is headed back to New York for three weeks and then off I go again to our father's land to see the queen. Photo's of the two day drive down here to come ... it ain't over yet

Flying High

I'm pretty sure I should get a gold star for last night. I flew from London to NYC and I didn't cry, I didn't panic, I didn't go crazy. 

I sat on the plane like a big girl and ate all the food they gave me me (BA has the best airline food ever!) and watched all the many movies from the little screen in front of me. I was happy as can be. Yey! I may have licked my fear of flying yet! 

Well, I shouldn't say that too soon. But it did seem to appear as if over night a few years back, after many years of travel. So why wouldn't it disappear as easily as it had come? For me it's the worst kind of fear because I'm a travel girl. And it really dampens a trip to have to take a 28 hour train ride when you can fly it in 3. 

So hello NYC. You miss me baby? I know you did. I think we have  lot of catching up to do...

On the Boats and One The Planes

I'm coming to America .... today!

Well it's 12:40 am so technically it is today that I leave. My two huge bags and I are going to make our way across the pond. Marking my more than halfway point into my masters program it feels like I've only just begun.

I really just want to go home now. Burnt out. Over it. I need spring break.

This Mornings Show

I awoke this morning to the sound of screaming crows.

A Grey Sky bellowed above, claws clutched at the dead as The Chorus hovered along peaks of bristled branches, ready for the show. First darkness illuminated, swirled around them as they flapped their wings to embrace the scene. Only no conductor was chosen to give them their cue. Time lost in their voices, rhythm destroyed.

One of the two young Foxes I've come to adore was ravaging a blackened object. A former bird? A rodent? I couldn't tell anymore then those screaming spectators who were waiting for a bite or were they having a go at the injustice they were witnessing? Maybe it was just a lighthearted serenade but without one to lead them their music became frayed.

I ran to get my camera but every shot came out underexposed, the distance too tight, a smudged window blocking most of the action, so I fiddled with keys, and settings, lightness to dark, look for sun, but look for clouds, no flash or I’ll only see myself staring back with hair like a mad woman, eyes red and puffy, limbs still asleep caught somehow in the glass missing the show.

Finally, happy with the selection of getting light but loosing it, my subject had snuck away. With him the Singing Chorus of Death had left without a bow or even a final act. No more requests, just off into the morning that was hatching above. Only its innards didn’t hold any more light then the sleeping hours before, calling the day to be a bit underexposed.

Suddenly aware of myself I draw the curtains. The camera gets tucked away. I long to fall back under, but without my darkened lullaby how could I? So I stayed in limbo waiting to see what else would draw me close, a song from screaming crows seemed to replay so I tucked myself back in and thought is that it for today?

Where did all this stuff come from?

Why didn't I listen to HR when she said don't bring a lot of stuff to London. One bag. It's all you need. Well it's come down to packing time. Since I can't afford to take the Queen Mary home in July I have to fly. That means I have to get stuff home on this flight, so I can get the rest home on the next in July.

Now I have two gigantic bags and no way to get to the airport next week. Car service is so expensive but then again so is shipping my stuff home or buying new stuff. So economically speaking I'll be saving money if I get a cab this time and next, rather then only taking what I need home this time and just praying it will all fit in the summer.

Now the second problem. How do you know when your bag is over 50 pounds? Anyone? I don't. When I went to Los Vegas my bag was over and I had to pay something like 50 pucks for a few extra pounds. I can't afford 50 bucks when I just spent it on a cab. Why is travel so complicated? Can't I just climb in through my computer screen and be home?

You Talkin' To Me?

After two hours of sleep on Saturday I got up, rubbed my eyes and out I went. On the bus to my class these three girls probably all 22 or 23 were chatting loudly. I couldn't help but over hear, I mean what else am I to do?
They talked about life, one of them was into playwriting I think, another one had a crush on a guy and so on. So naturally I tune in.
Then one of them said something that ended with '... like American high school students drinking milkshakes all the time.'
I meet her gaze and said ''I don't recall having milk shakes when I was in high school.''
She stared through me, 'Oh dear, I didn't know anyone was listening.''
Half yawning I say, ''well there is nothing else to do when your stuck on bus'' and everyone else is silent I thought.
Then she turned to her friends ''What a sociable person." They continued their conversation in whispers.

Well gee thanks for making me feel like an ass for speaking to you. I suppose that's the British way? In NYC you talk to people they usually talk back.

Little Wankers Mucking Up The Theater

With the invention of myspace and facebook came a whole new way of advertising to the young masses. Theater companies have jumped onto this notion. Trying to get younger people into the audience, they create profiles and send out mass bulletins /emails of upcoming / current shows. Normally being bogged down with ads is a nuisance but not when it comes to the theater. This way I know what has just opened with links to reviews, photos and the box office. They usually offer deals as well, that's the main bit I enjoy. Not just cheap prices, but invites to talk backs, workshops and other fun programs.

Tonight I went to a Myspace night, where you pay 5 pounds for 5 tickets and you get a free drink coupon for each person, at the Royal Court to see Debbie Tucker Green's one woman show called Random. Nadine Marshall played about six different characters, focusing on one day in a family's life, which at first is normal but without any warning one of them dies. It explores the grief of the immediate family and the reactions of the people around them like the over dramatic co-workers who just show up at their doorstep with tears in their eyes, the police officers who wear their dirty boots on the Mothers clean carpet drink the fathers good tea and a 'home girl' singing a bad R&B tune.

The audience gets to really know this family through Marshall's portrayal and Green's poetic words. It's a very ambitious show. Marshall is alone on the large empty stage where you can see the rigs and brick of the back stage wall. She wears jeans, a dark t-shirt and a white hoody. She did an excellent job bringing you into this world and defining these characters so you always knew which one she had on but she didn't project loud enough and the directer had her in one spot for the full 50 mins. I felt like I wanted her to jump into my ipod where I could watch her performance on the tube because it felt like I was watching a long close up.

Though The Royal Court Theater has the most comfortable seats I have ever encountered in my lifetime of viewing shows, it was a miserable evening. The reason was the catch. When you get a sweet deal always be on the look out for the hidden ugliness. The seats were great, something like 6 row center from stage but the audience was made up of kids. Kids who no doubt would rather be anywhere else on a Friday night then watching a one woman show. These little buggers (preteens?) made it almost impossible to really get into what was happening on stage. Behind me these girls giggled and unwrapped a bag of sweets for 40 mins of the 50 min piece. I turned and gave a look, in which they only giggled more and started to mutter. I wanted to turn, back around, take their bag, dump it over their heads, and then push their little laughing faces onto the floor and make them eat the sweets all up. After I'd knock both of their heads together and throw their ungrateful arses out. But I didn't. I just leaned forwards and grumbled. Then of course during an emotional speech my cell goes off. A text from GT. At that point I thought 'Well, good thing I didn't smack those kids around, might come off as a bit hypocritical.' Wouldn't want that.

Still, you shouldn't force kids to see a show, coz they will only ruin it for the paying public. If you do take them in, gag them, take their sweets and tell them their favorite pet will die if they open their stupid little mouths.

But what do I know, I'm not a teacher or a parent. But if I was, they'd know to respect the theater. My one and only holy temple. Bit dramatic I know but it's 12:30am on a Friday.. well Saturday now really and I'm writing a blog, that no one will read, while my laundry tumbles away, trying to desperately get my homework done coz I have a full day of class in ten hours. Me up at 10:30 am? Blimey best not sleep than, aye mates?

* I've been creating a list of British slang. More on that soon.

A Snake in My Hand

It's 2:30pm and I can't wake up. I didn't fall asleep until 7am so that may have something to do with it. 

During my tossing and turning I had a dream that I rented a tiny snake, for what reason I can't remember. But the snake proved to be much stronger than I imagined and kept jumping out of my hand. I finally caught it but then it tried to slither up my nose into my brain. I fought it with all the energy I had. This snake wasn't big, not much bigger then my hand but it held tremendous strength.

 

Finally, I brought it to my cousin Andy who seemed to know just what to do. He put it into a Tupperware box that wouldn't stay closed. So every few minutes I would check the box, frightened the snake would escape while I slept and crawl up my nose. So I put it sideways on a shelf with a piece of wood holding it up. I still felt it could escape so I moved it to the back of the shelf where a dead bug found it's way to the top of the container. The snake jumped out of the box ate the bug. Happily it then went back into the box on it's own and stayed there.

I know snakes mean evil, treachery or sometimes wisdom and sexuality. While a Nose represents energy, intuition and wisdom as well. Also it can symbolize curiosity and suggest you need to know more about a situation. 

The dream was so real that I feel worn out from my imaginary struggle. But that's all I feel. What is the point of a dream if you don't understand it? I mean, if it's symbolism is created for you to learn from it than how do you learn from it if you cannot understand what the symbols mean? 

If Alice was sober - what would Wonderland be like?

I took a break from my giant work load to party with Montana on Saturday night.

Her posse and I went from Bar to Bar and then to Club in the London fashion. Which is similar to NYC in a way except the Bars here close early. In this town, most looking for a decent night out have to end up in a club because they are open later. Having grown up in South Florida I've never been a club girl. All the hoe's with nothing on, clomping along in heels ten feet high and guys just coming up to you as if you're the lucky one to be seen with them. It does ones head in.

Those scenes never felt real to me. Just a bad escape. If I want to have fun, being sexually harassed with blisters on my feet and vomit in my hair is not the way to go. (For me at least.) But when it's a girls night with the notion of 'Bro's Before Hoes' then it can be quiet a different experience.

Less than half of the girls in the group were in a relationships and the other half single. One of the girls even met up with a guy who found her on Facebook (I suppose Facebook really is the new myspace?) Of course they went from friendly greeting to massive lip lock in a span of an hour. But what else are Saturday nights for?

True to the club life music is lost in favor of the Beat. Another reason I get bored at clubs is the destruction of songs. This particular DJ was crap. He created more or less the same distortion of beats the whole time we were there. I never once heard a lyric. But regardless we enjoyed ourselves. The crowd picked up as the night wore on. I was sober through out (which could be why I wasn't in the spirit of things. ) An unfortunate side effect of my love of food. So I wandered through the herd in and out. Over to the dance floor and off the dance floor (because how can you dance to the same beat for longer then 10 min?) and when we agreed the scene wasn't going to get any better we headed for the coat check. (Even with the free baked goods, all clean people, I couldn't fall like Alice into the Rabbit hole.)

We headed upstream in the center of the crowd passing a horde of drunk guys and girls. As we almost neared our destination I had a unfortunate encounter with a guy, so drunk he looked at me as if I said something to him. And as I passed he grabbed my neck and tried to plant one on me. Because I was sober I was able to turn my head and had my ear slobbered on instead. I kept moving passed him as quick as I could. He seemed to remain stuck, as if I had simple vanished into thin air. That's when I really missed GT, because if he was there that kid would have been on the floor.

The rest of the week has flown by with class and a different show every night. I have until next week to finish my work load and then it's home sweet home. Tonight I am seeing "I'll be the Devil" by Leo Butler who is talking to us on Saturday along with Diane Samuel's whose "Three Sisters on Hope Street" I saw last week. And on and on it goes. But I've thrown myself in and now I think how fast this term has gone by.

I've been here so long I don't hear funny accents anymore, I know which trains to take and I've come to adore the brick walls and colorful door knockers that line the incomprehensible streets that seem to twist and turn, changing identity's all together when you turn a bend. In NYC you always know where you are and how you got there. But here I seem to find my way mostly by accident and chance.


(Photos by Montana - that's her drag name, well if she was a man dressing like a woman and not really a woman?)

How Many Bites to the Inside of the Apple...?

This is my homework for this week and next. Then it's time to go to NYC and enjoy life for a bit. Home sweet home. Come here apple and let me have a nice big bite. Reading this many plays can make anyone build up an appetite.

When I get bored or stressed, with no play time for too many days in a row, I cut my hair off. I'm normal I swear! I just have weird ways of letting out creative energy. (On the upside I now have bangs or fringe as they call it here. And I look ten years younger. Downside  - I'm already ten years younger than most and I now look like I have a cheap wig on 24/7.)