It’s really lame to post a pre-post post, when I should just post a regular post, isn’t it?
BUT it’s a hot, September Saturday after a long, beer-soaked, excruciatingly divine Out of Bounds Friday night and if there’s ever an excuse to lazy it up, it’s this.
Spent the whole day snoozing and reading A Storm of Swords. About to don my own armor and meet this Saturday night bare-fisted and expectant. Bring on the LOLs, OOB. Bring them ON.
August was entirely too hot to even get bothered.
That’s saying something. But as we’re rounding the bend on the tail end of it, things are shifting again under the Texas sun.
* * *
Tonight kicks off the 10th annual Out of Bounds Comedy Festival. (Essentially, SXSW for the comedy set.) I bought a fancypants badge so I can see everything, including (and especially) Boom Chicago! BOOM. CHICAGO! Remember a million years ago when I used to work for them? Passing out flyers? Drinking margaritas in a Dutch bar? Meeting tourists and seeing shows and all the subsequent hilarity that ensued?
Me, neither! But the fuzzy memories I have of it are epic. EPIC.
I have a tentative schedule mocked up. Fingers crossed I follow it and not flake out in a puddle of exhaustion midway. I’m juggling freelance deadlines this week and the return of the ZOMBIE TOOTH as well, so we’ll see.
Kick-off w/ You’re Not My Real Dad at The Hideout tonight at 8!
Oh I went and did it again, didn’t I? I got all wrapped up IRL and ignored the 010011011011101s until those 01011010011101101s threatened me in the way only they can and I became overwhelmed.
This “getting overwhelmed” business parallels with so many other things in my life, so I’d like to say it’s a one-time thing, but I don’t want to lie.
- I had gum surgery.
- I finished level three.
- I pulled my back
- Troupon played and lost (by ONE vote!) Cagematch.
- I started practicing with the IFL.
- I had an impossible flat tire.
- I got new boots.
- My dad celebrated a birthday. (I’m always grateful for these.)
- I fell down, really hard.
- My A/C went out and had to be replaced. WHOA, that was expensive.
- I ate curdled cereal on accident.
- I drank a lot of champagne.
- I had a weird run-in with a cop that might not actually be a cop, in plain clothes wearing a balaclava in 107 heat.
- I started reading Game of Thrones.
- I missed out on the level three showcase because of a handful of the above.
- I start a new intensive this week with Jill Bernard.
- I had coffee. Lots of coffee. Lots of coffee with interesting conversation.
- I slept. A lot.
- And then didn’t. A lot.
All that is happening/happened. Some of it I’ll go into detail about. Most of it I won’t.
But I’ll be back soon, I swear it. Here’s a pretty picture. Forgive me?
Love and watermelons,
Got a new notebook.
Look… see… feel the inspiration. I’m writing up class notes and other varying thoughts and callbacks from my improv-student life.
I’ll be on stage for the first time this weekend. Not telling what stage, what time or with what group because I want exactly NO ONE from outside my classes to see me. I’ll start pimping out performances once I can get past the “I’M GOING TO BREAK IMPROV!” thoughts out of my head and one show under my belt. Everything from nothing, right?
Continue reading ““Very, Very Temporary”” »
I realized my latent superpower of making things weird isn’t quite so latent. I still charge forward blindly without cause for alarm, don’t move fast enough to get the right words from my brain to my mouth before I release a torrent of words from my gut that make the room go still and I’m back to the place where I accidentally (35-years-old and I still have to retype accidentally every single time so that it doesn’t show up as “accidently.”) pick a fruit before it’s ripe or deflate a story idea before I write it down.
Because I haven’t had access to my essential self in awhile, I forgot that my essential self has the patience of a newborn and am clearly still hooked on the high of immediacy. Show me NOW. Do it NOW. Let’s go NOW. I want everything NOW.
Which is weird that I’m even thinking things are weird, because they’re not weird. I’m just so fucking awkward sometimes. Unless they are weird and I just don’t realize how weird, weird is. I need to remember that my normal is not your normal, and not your normal, and not your normal, either. And I need to remember not to close off my open valve, especially before I see what comes out of it, because that’s going against everything that means anything to me.
Jump. Then justify.
Jump. Then justify.
Jump. Then justify.
Just try not to burn out the fight before the glory.
All words by Merrit Malloy
I didn’t ask that you
take care of me, but
only that you care for me
… there is quite a difference
in the two.
The first assumes that I need help
and the second only love.
The Fear Of Not Being Scared
There is a great fear
that plagues only romantics
It is that they might
Everywhere I turn I see women craving change.
Talking about big cities and dreams and waxing ambition into poetry.
But we’re all still here.
What has to happen to force change? Why are we waiting for change to develop and leave us no choice but escape instead of creating doorways and buying tickets?
Why do we take a passive aggressive stance to the situations around us — manipulating the little keys that force the big lock?
I question these things right now, drinking coffee and reading other people’s journals knowing that if I wait a few hours, I’ll forget this little fire and justify another day of normalcy.
I was talking in my sleep last night. B said I rolled over and said, “How boring for you.”
I didn’t realize I was talking to myself.
I dreamed of yard sales and getting busted. At the yard sale, everything looked tired and old and it was all of my own stuff I was rummaging through. All the remnants of my past — dusty and tired.
“How boring for you.”
How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you.
So I’m depressed and bloated and gross and having twisted dreams and sometimes I really hate being a woman.
Headlines from MSNBC
Musharraf arrives for India summit
• New Kashmir violence as talks start
Newsweek: We still want our MTV
• It’s 20 years old and still rocking
Downey set to plead no contest
• Bargain would keep actor out of jail
3 dead in Home Depot shooting
• Former worker kills 2, plus himself
Firm blasted over cloning ethics
• WashPost: Chief adviser resigns
We’re a sick, sad race.
Today’s news is tomorrow’s history. This is a not the history I thought would be here when I was a child growing up in it.