No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2003-01-19 - 11:32 a.m.

Shakespeare, debauchery, and what you cannot have

Me. Myself. With my face pressed up against love's glass.

So Friday I drove up to Ft. Fun (damn that's a drive) to see Hotspur (my stage combat teacher) as Romeo. In a nutshell, the direction, the set design, the costumes, the music, and especially the fight direction were great. Unfornately, the acting didn't live up to all that. Great planning, mediocre execution. However, it was really good to see the interpretations of the lines, especially in the first half. The director was not only not afraid of the humor and sexual innuendo in the play, but played it up. It was one of the most refreshing versions of R&J I'd seen in a long, long time. And like I said, the fights were great. I especially like the raking a crowbar across the belly kill of Paris. That was sweet. Brutal, short, perfect application of a readily available weapon.

Last night I went down to CowPlace to see the show. Stimpy and Dorothy, and (through a chance meeting in the parking garage) MW and I all hung out at The Bar for a while before going over to the show. So, it was me and three women, which was cool. I also discovered last night that two of those three women just went through break ups. Which just makes your mind reel in interesting ways. Cause as long as I've known them, they've been firmly in the "Friend" category. And almost certainly that's where they'll both remain. But there's that biological imperative part of my brain, hiding somewhere down deep inside the lizard brain, that immediately leaps up and says "Fertile females! Breed, damn you, breed!"

So we saw the show which was really good.

After the show, we went back to The Bar, and got extremely rowdy. This was a larger crowd, and I'm not going to name any names, but two women decided to take it on themselves to play "tease the lesbian". By doing incredibly sexual things to her at the table. There were kisses, and gropes, and simulated cunning linguist, and sugar packets stuffed into bras, and then pulled out of bras, and nachos extracted from cleavage, and God knows what else I missed.

Of course, all the guys present left in disgust and moral outrage.

Errrr...maybe we didn't, but you can be sure we thought about it.

Look, anyway, that's not the point.

The point is...um...I seem to have lost my point.

The point is that actually, while everyone else was hooting and hollering, I actually got a little sad. Cause, you know. Me. Myself. With my face pressed up against love's glass.

Sometimes, looking through the window of the locked candy store isn't a good idea. That's all I'm saying.

Which is not to say that I wish I were a lesbian (though come to think of it...), or anything, what I'm saying is that I am lonely, and watching all kinds of outrageous behavior that I *wish* I could join, but know that I *never* will, well, that can be a bummer.

I dunno. I'm not explaining it well.

Plus, I think that eRoommate's going to put the moves on Dorothy, and part of me thinks that's a train-wreck waiting to happen. Of course that might be the jealous part that wants to put the moves on myself.

But I wasn't going to go there just yet, so ...



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