Picture Peek

Finally got back to NY. Took the redeye (not recommended) on JetBlue (unreliable), although this time I only sat on the runway for 45 minutes rather than 10 and 1/2 hours. Being in the JetBlue terminal at JFK was total PTSD, though.

I worked the Oscar swag suites last Thursday and Friday. That was certainly interesting. It's so easy to get caught up in it all but thank god I kept a bit of cynical distance. What a trip. I was better at it than I thought I would be, but at least my lips didn't get chapped from too much ass-kissing. Granted, I was nicer than I authentically felt towards a few of the "celebs". But I guess that's the game. Some, especially the younger girls, were actually sweethearts. Only one was a royal pain in the ass (I'm talking to you, former Laverne & Shirley cast member. You're just plain mean lady.)

But the point of this post is the pictures. Wow, that was some alliteration there. Most of these are Joie photos, of course, as I was mainly documenting the migration. I'm not posting any of his show photos. You can see those over on Joie's blog. So here we go:

Forgot to post this one from the Maryland airport. Still can't believe we went to frigging Maryland in order to fly to L.A. Kee-razy.

Tuggin' luggage.

He looks all suspicious in the doorway

Texty in the Starbucksy

Out with my friends. Little Lindsay is getting married! To a great guy, Jason, who is sitting on the left there. After this photo we went to go see Jason play at the Viper room. Liked the venue a lot. Better than the Whiskey, that's for sure. You know what? They confiscated my gum at the Whiskey! My gum! Dangerous gum...

I seriously don't remember where I took this picture.

Pre-gig. Watching Joie do his eyeliner in the parking lot across from the Rainbow was hee-larious.

I like this photo. All moody and junk.

I've never seen anyone get so lounge-y and comfy in a passenger seat.

I think I've created a Carl's Jr. monster. Nah, he's probably back to staying away from fast food and carbs already.

I'm all teary-eyed behind the sunglasses. Thank god for sunglasses.

He's carting all his worldly possessions into his new place.

While I sit in the car and mope.

He keeps carting.

And I keep moping.

Moooooooopppppppee.

One last photo, with my eyes all glassy from crying.

And he waves bye-bye...

This is proving to be a difficult adjustment. I'm in grief right now. I'm a little (a little) surprised at how hard it was and is. I thought that after so many days together, we'd probably drive each other totally nuts and I'd be glad to go. But instead it was easier and more fun every day (even with my periodic crankiness or daily dose of eye-tearing). So, yeah, it's a toughie.

But I love my friend, and I want for him what makes him happy.

Heroic Stoic I'm Not

Crying easily and frequently and I don't like it. Not one little bit.

It feels out of control although I know it's not and it's natural. But really the only thing that is easy right now are those ready tears.

People, to me, are more than just their individual selves. Especially the men. Each man is not just a singular entity, but also representative of so much more. Not just other men, but also hopes, dreams, emotions...

So often they represent what is missing and not what is.

But is it really that they represent the lack? Perhaps it is instead that their presence serves to highlight what is in fact not present. I'm present...but very little else is.

And others? Others are miles and decades away. They're in the future or in the past: two states which I am guilty of frequenting as well. But not now. Now...I may not know where I am, but at least I know when.

Your questions are hard, sometimes; and sometimes they're not so nice. But yes, those things that are missing... Well, they are they are. That's not to say I'm incomplete. Maybe I am incomplete. I'm not looking for something else to fill that, though. I am looking for something else, but... Oh Christ I'm tripping over my own tongue (my own typing?) and hardly making any sense.

I had other things to say. I even wrote them down. Suddenly I'm clamming up. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions are written all over my face in thick Sharpie. I wish I were a better liar.

I gently coax others out of stoicism; but right now I see their point.

Photo Update

The story so far (in photos)

Trapped on a plane for 11 hours...trapped in an airport for 29. We went from hostages to refugees.

We camped.

And camped.

And slept. I love this photo.

Shocked as shit to be in L.A. and already texting.

Going to my folks' house or going to the prom?

Rock star times two.

Is it happiness or delirium?

A little overtired and not even there for 4 hours yet and we're already headed out.

Never thought I'd see pale East Village boy on the beach. He's actually starting to get a little color.

I nullify veto power. Cuz I LIKE this pic.

Spooooky.

Wonder what tomorrow will bring...

What A Long Strange Trip It Still Is

I have pictures pictures pictures But not yet not yet not yet.

That's the problem with this house...my laptop to internet connection kinda blows.

You know what else kinda blows? The fact that I was stuck on the runway at JFK for almost eleven hours. Yeah, ya heard me. Joie and I were on one of those horrible JetBlue flights. JetBlows. Then we spent the night on the floor of the airport. Mmmm...JFK carpet. THEN we spent the next morning fighting through more lines (the lines the lines oh god so many lines). We gave up eventually and headed back to my place. Got some sleep thanks to Benadryl and then headed out in the cover of darkness for Maryland. Maryland! Because THAT WAS THE ONLY FLIGHT WE COULD GET. We went from Maryland to LAX. Fiasco is one word. Dumbass is another.

You've never lived until you've heard a pilot announce over the intercom:

Uh, folks? Our toilet tanks are at about 99% capacity right now. So, if you don't mind...anything less than "Number Two", PLEASE DON'T FLUSH.

Dude.

But we made it. I think my bodyclock is still adjusting. It's not even jetlag. It got to a point where my entire sense of time and place was fucked. Time was just a number. (Age ain't nothin' but a number, man.)

But now we're in LA LA Land. Strange place, this. Strange stuff, this. Here I am helping my friend do what I don't want him to do. I don't want him to move. Not at all. I want him to stay in NY and be my friend and live happily ever after. But what am I going to do, throw roadblocks in his path? No. I want the people I love to be happy, even if their choice is not my choice. So I'm helping. It's a bit of a mindfuck, though.

We've done so much already and we've only been here two and a half days. And there's still so much to do. Plus now my own opportunities to explore. I'll be sittin' with swag at the Kodak theatre Thursday and Friday. And I'm more determined than ever to develop the next workshop. The standalone.

But there are multiple conundrums. Conundri? Priorities and timelines are kicking my ass a little bit. Then we get into the essence of it altogether: what the fuck is it, even? Because I don't know what I'm working towards and it sure as hell don't spark me. Sometimes it does. Little sparks. Glimpses of the sparkly possibilities. But just...not.

Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
And anyone can hurt me
And they do
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?
Call in three months' time and I'll be fine, I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and faces of this sad occasion
But that's no consolation here and now
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?

Okay, that's not exactly appropriate and it's not exactly the whole song, but there are a few lines in there that fit really fucking well. See if you can figure out which ones. You get a lollipop if you guess right.

Practice Makes Possible

This has been a most interesting time. I feel in a way like I'm in rehearsal. This is practice for something else later on. I'm doing the prep work, that's for sure

I do believe that I'm setting the energetic stage - on more than just one level, too. Let's hope I'm not just spinning my wheels and that there is something else coming my way. I've grown far past effusive navel-gazing and intellectual masturbation. Well, maybe not the latter. I am writing this, after all.

But this better not be another pointless act. There's only so many times I can stomach that.

So. Working towards something, then? Oh bloody hell. What? Fuck the vision board, though, at least. That kind of claptrap makes me so frustrated. Perhaps its the cynical mind talking, but I just don't see how I would find it inspirational. It sounds demanding to me. Demanding of me.

You know what? The only thing I want right now is everything. That's not too much, is it? Or perhaps at the very least, my own table. My own space. Sometimes that IS too much to ask, though, I'm finding.

Texting Is Dangerous

I have a new roommate! First time I've had a houseguest for longer than a few days in...years! Good thing he's the bestest. And a sound sleeper! I always worries that my kitties (well, Willa) will wake guests. She meows so frigging loudly in the mornings. I'm good at ignoring her when I'm the only one here, but when someone else is in the apartment, I'm hypersensitive to her caterwauling.

Appropos of nothing: I'm...er...lonely in a specific way.

Texting is dangerous.

Oy.