All Hallows wrap-up

A new blog has been promised, and a new blog you shall (hopefully!) have. For a new year, an' one keeps to the ancient Celtic system of reckoning. That's more internal, since externally my world still confirms to secular rules, but i mark what i can. In the same way, i might internally have observed Samhain, but externally it was Halloween, quite possibly the busiest time of the year for me (well, tied with Beltane half-way round the calendar wheel but that's a springtime tale). So what have i been doing since last the moon was full?

The concise version is, running sound for a play, making a wedding veil, creating Halloween costumes and making birthday presents by hand. i picked up a part-time job working at a pet store that will pay my rent, and started winterizing my apartment. i've been making several attempts at perfecting my Vegan Corned Beef recipe. i spent an afternoon in a local cemetery, attended a party at a Roller Grrl's house, and saw the Dickies at a massive Masquerade Ball around the corner from my house. That pretty well sums it up; the details follow.

First, i've been running sound for "Brainpeople" every weekend, for one. A very different sound plot than the previous play; this one is largely experimental, lots of Zoviet France and Crash Worship, mixed in with selections from several soundtracks, most notably "Frida" but also "Interview With The Vampire" (same composer, it turns out) and "The Crow". Which may give you an idea of the tone of the play.

Along with running sound, i've been providing a food item that's consumed onstage each night. The script calls for tiger meat, which even our beloved West Side Market is unlikely to provide - but besides that little obstacle, the actress who eats the most is vegan. Last spring i'd run across a great recipe for Vegan Corned Beef that i thought would work; but its saved to my netbook, which is out of commission with a cracked screen just at present. And i haven't been able to locate quite the one i used in online searches since. So i've just been experimenting a little each week, trying to come up with something that's both tasty and toothsome. The recipe i found produces something that tastes all right, but has the consistency of Silly Putty; not what we're going for at all. i'm hoping to get it right by the end of the run, at which point i'll post MY Vegan Corned Beef recipe.

Another thing keeping me busy was making a wedding veil for an acquaintance. She's going off to Eastern Europe to wed, under somewhat curious circumstances which are not my business. Millinery, on the other hand, is. i created a sort of Russian cap in white satin, with some ribbon embroidery and a central heart of pearl roping, with silk flowers (including her favorite, pink lillies) around the brim. The veil itself is rather plain, just iridescent netting with a lace trim at the hem, falling to fingertip length. Her dress is simple, spaghetti straps and not a lot of frou-frou, so i tried to keep the veil appropriate. i hope she'll like it.

With the onset of winter, i've been trying to prepare Chez Wolfkitten. This will be my first winter in the new apartment, and the prospect of heating bills has me on the nervous side. Tho i might have complained, i LOVED having steam heat at my old place and will miss it muchly here. i've been covering my windows in plastic, a window a day or so. The bedroom has two layers and will have one more before i'm done, as the windows are directly above the head of my bed. If it gets too bad, i may even have to re-arrange the room, we shall see. The living room doesn't have any as yet, its last on my list. However, i've had it closed off all month, and a tapestry hanging over the French doors that lead in. There's a good ten degree difference apparent when i do walk in there. Aside from entertaining, tho, i don't need to use it much; i lived in two rooms at the old place so i'm used to not needing a lot of space.

All this and i've not even spoken of Halloween! Two of my friends went up to experience Detroit's Theater Bizarre firsthand. The city came down on the T.B. collective and made them move to a club, which rather dampened the experience as i understand. Not having been there, i can't comment much - i'd've happily gone if i wasn't in the booth. i should change the subtitle of this blog to, I Can't, I Have Rehearsal. There's more behind this tale but i have to keep the details to myself for quite some time yet.

And then the Big Weekend. i only had one real request for costume assistance, attaching a life-size fake crow to the shoulder of a leather coat. The bird itself fell apart before my work did. Interesting that crows continue as a theme. i'll forever be a weregrrl and a mermaid, but the crows and i, we have an Allegiance now. Speaking of crows, i don't think i've mentioned that my new part-time gig is working in the exotic bird room at a local pet shop, have i? Birds again.

i mention it now, because it plays into *my* costume. i'd started with the concept of Showgirl from Outer Space; lifted from a favorite movie, Vegas In Space by way of an outfit i'd worn in Say You Love Satan as the club DJ, based on a Mardi-Gras colored wig. Well, once i started cleaning up after a couple marathon wing-clipping sessions, i got the notion i might glue some feathers around my eyes, feathers and rhinestones, that sort of thing. Fortunately, a week or so before i realized that if i took the time to do that, i'd never make it out before the night was over, as i'd have to get ready post-theater both nights (yes, of *course* i went out Friday and Saturday! Didn't you?)

Instead, i had the brilliant idea to make an appliance and glue the feathers to that - which became a papier-mache domino mask, covered in green/gold feathers with sequin accents. Oh goodie, someone's posted a picture:

i'm quite happy with how it came out, even tho i wound up *nothing* like the original concept - only the wig and my snakeskin leggings were the same. But about three days beforehand, i had the brainstorm that instead of trotting out my pirate dress again (that is SO three years ago) on Friday, i should instead go in my Circus Grrl persona, much nearer and dearer to my heart. i have a great frock-coat style jacket, on semi-permanent loan from the theater (*ahem*), the above-mentioned leggings, and knee-high black riding boots. Oh, and my corset, of course.

Naturally, once i got that bee in my bonnet, nothing would do but that i create a tiny tophat to complete the ensemble! i've never made one before. This one is uber quick'n'dirty: posterboard covered in fabric. Only later that night did it occur to me i'd not created a way to attach it to my head; amazingly, two bobbypins held it at that rakish angle all night long. There was drama and delay getting to where i was going, so that by the time i arrived at my favorite watering hole, they were closing up and heading en masse to some *other* bar. Which turned out to be one of those places Suburban White People go to 'let their hair down', complete with obligatory cover band. Who at least got props for having a horn section. Downed a quick cocktail or two and made our escape.



Only Zombie Jett was up for the Roller Grrl party. Shortly after this pic was taken, he peeled the extra eyeball off his face and bounced it around the kitchen before it came to rest on the back landing. For this portion of the evening, i had donned my ultimate accessory - the accordion! - and was cajoled to play a tune for a charming young Scorpio mime. i got into a discussion of seitan-cooking techniques with Mr Roller Grrl and a friend of his, had a smoke on the porch, scooped up the drag queen and dominatrix i'd brought to the party initially and tottered off home.

Satyrday night - yes, its almost over, i promise! - i'd arranged to spend hanging out with another Scorpio lady friend of mine, who made a mysteriously fetching vampire. She met me at Chez Wolfkitten, we did our final primping and walked over to Cleveland Public Theater. Which was madness, madness i tell you madness. Hundreds of people. So many that to say "I'll see you there" was a crapshoot, and i did *not* see at least one person who made that promise. But i did eventually see most of my closest crew. One or two recognized me straight off, but i had to lift the mask before most people knew who i was - which led to the ribbon finally giving way by the end of the night.

One of my favorite costumes of the night was a friend who went as the Facebook 'poke' - just a foam sandwich board with the Facebook 'f' logo, and a pointer-finger hand on a stick; but props for creativity! There was another dressed in black & white stripes of varying sorts, who had black&white concentric circles on his face. They gave him the look of being a cyclops; very cool! Another friend was a transforming werewolf; his outfit consisted of shorts, tennis shoes, Elmer's glue, and a LOT of scraps of hair. He said the local barber college wouldn't part with sweepings so i'm not sure where he got it, but for such a simple approach it worked really well. Maybe its his wolfish grin.

i got to spend a little time chatting with someone who i've been wanting to mend fences with for a while, very glad of that opportunity. Got to spend a little while too, chatting with the Rev. Ivan Stang and Princess Wei R. Doe (Queen of All UFOs), which made me even happier. i don't get to see them near often enough, which is silly given that we live all of what, ten miles away from each other?! The ball ended at one a.m., but not all of us were ready to head home yet. Some folks opted for the Happy Dog, which was walking distance and might have been a better choice. A few others, myself included, headed up to the Spitfire for last call. One bartender had a far too credible Superhost outfit on, which will mean nothing to non-Clevelanders, but trust me, if you get the joke it was great.

And that, ah my foes and oh my friends, was my All Hallow's weekend. i'll (attempt to) be back in two weeks' time, with the next installment. This too promises to be a busy, busy month - lots of costuming to be done - so i'm sure i'll have something for you to read. i hope you tune in.

Holy Pink Fourth

Once again i haven't posted in a while. i guess i'm not in a very reflective period right now; plus the time it takes to sit down and write about things is time i'm not spending DOING things. i am doing a lot of things. Actually i suppose i do update on them; but these days i micro-blog via status updates (@wolfkitten - "Follow me on Twitter!"). But my head is full, there's a promise of rain on the breeze and its just me and the netbook on a futon on the floor. Yes its 3am on the night of the fourth as i write and i'm rambling.

Part of what's keeping me busy is The Move. The place i've been living the last three years Went Away, basically - landlord lost the place and no one's bought it yet, everyone but me moved out by early June. This mirrors my situation of five years ago in curious ways - it was exactly this time of year when i came back from Conneaut to Collinwood, and - well that was an adventure in and of itself. Both times i've been semi-squatting, which appeals to me on some urban punk traveller level but is maybe not quite so romantic when you're actually doing it.

This time, it was rather like watching the shoreline crumble around my little oasis on every side, knowing sooner or later it was going to eat away at my foundations. At the same time, i didn't have to bail suddenly, so i was able to look around a little and find something that was right for me. Which i believe i have. i'm still not completely finished; next weekend is scheduled to be the last big transfer, which means having everything *ready* to go before then. i'll get it done somehow, but of course this has ALSO been one of those manic energie periods when Everything is Happening At Once. And of course this place didn't come through until i was right on the edge of that next big wave coming in.

Summertimes roll.. One reason i've always loved Jane's Addiction so much. Not only were they THE summer soundtrack back in the day, but they captured the essence of those times so perfectly. i could, an i cared to, find parallels back to the endless Basketcase summer; the July 4th i lost and then re-found my High Priestess Tarot earrings on a beach i can all but see from my new living room. But to get there i have to use a stepping-stone, touch base with my most recent midsummer transformation. At that time, i could Feel that sort of wave i'd known in the 80s building again. And i had no way of knowing i'd be where i am, that i would reconnect with people who were There before, none of it. Not sure i could have even *pictured* this existing like it does. And yet here we are.

Last year at this time i was writing about a Horrible Holiday. To me, July 4th symbolizes a secular version of the ancient midsummer rites. Though to call it 'mid'summer seems somehow wrong - i understand the position it held in the calendar for pagan ancestors quite well, but we don't follow the same calendar, the same rhythms anymore. Its not that we have none; they're just attuned differently. July 4th taps into the celebration of the seasonal influences, but its overlaid with a different sort of festivity that glorifies all the forms of dominion i've rejected my whole life. Ergo not one i'm generally too comfortable with. In years past we'd try to get out of the city altogether - i've attended a few Rainbow Gatherings, and would go camping if at all remotely possible. And those were choices i made even before i got to know the joys of fireworks-induced panic attacks.

This year was different, though, and to my mind a lot better. Well, maybe not better than camping with friends; that's hard to beat. But good. Of course, it started off with an entirely different gathering of the tribes - a gathering of the tribe i have probably the strongest ties to: the Clepunk crew. Anymore people talk about 'the eighties' and everyone thinks Flashdance, Cindy Lauper, and big hair metal. Yeah, that was out there, but that wasn't remotely MY 80s. Mine was the local hardcore punk scene (which has never yet been properly documented), intermixed with Rainbow hippie stuff by way of what would become stoner rock. But with the emphasis on hardcore.

Did any of us then think we'd be doing this thirty years later? (and i have to correct myself, because i WANTED to write twenty =:o) We couldn't think that far ahead; Reagan was probably going to start a nuclear war anyway, so Live Fast Die Young seemed an eminently reasonable response to the world around us. Until, of course, some people started doing exactly that and you realized a cool bumper sticker does not a practicable life course make. However, the good thing about it now is that those of us who are still standing - and there are many more still here than not - have generally learned to be a little more intelligent about it.

Its not that we don't still like to go out and kick it; but most of us have come to terms with the fact that we have times when we can do that - and times when we can't. Even if there were still places like the Lakefront, Pop Shop, Underground and all the rest, we can't spend every weekend blowing it out like we used to (there are still scenes where you can find that, but its different energy for different times). Which makes the times we do get together for that reason all the more special.

i realize its a little preposterous to say that an event called Cleveland's Screaming was a positive celebration - dare i say life-affirming? Fuck it, i'm a punk but i'm a hippie too; effing deal. A celebation of Us, of our tribe, of having been through all we've collectively been through and still be able to drink, play fast music and have fun. As the screaming part of the title might suggest, there was always pain underlying our good times, but one of the things i always liked about the Cleveland scene was that we had fun anyway. We might go to war with Russia tomorrow but fuck it; tonight we're gonna get blasted and enjoy ourselves.

When i started writing this, i was thinking about the pain, and i feel there's more there to be said on that topic. But not just now. Right now, i'm still high on the sheer exuberant energie of seeing so many faces together again, of seeing bands i love and grew up with play out once more (some maybe for the very last time), of touching the same heart and spirit that fueled me then. Friday and Saturday night we all gathered - not at any of our old places; are any of them even still standing?! - but a newer club that understands and encourages the old vibe.

We've had a few 'reunion' shows over the years and i've been to most of them; this was the first time i was actively involved in one. It made a difference to how i perceived it, particularly on Saturday. i convinced the promoter to let me do my glasswalking routine - and not just at 'sometime' during the weekend, but right before the Saturday night headliners, the Pink Holes (and Jim, if you're reading this, i hope you understand now why i wanted that spot!) For one, i know how people react when i do it, enough to know these were *exactly* the people who'd appreciate it, and that was exactly the time when they'd appreciate it most.

But i also wanted to bring something back from other tribes, other worlds i've travelled to, as a sort of gift. Although i've had a lifelong love of carnivals, i didn't move into my circus grrl phase until after i'd left the punk scene. Likewise the theatrical aspects - i may not have been born in a trunk, but i was raised in very close proximity to one; but the closest i got to theater in those days was The Subliminals, the blacklight performance art troupe i was in. Now, these things are the biggest part of what i do, and i was really excited to be able to bring that to the table.

And it was awesome. i hear video was shot; maybe by the time i post this i can link it. (Alas not yet. Check back, i'll edit it in if it goes live).

Of course, to really grok the enormity of the weekend in fullness, you have to know about Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes (i could probably philosophize about the significance of so many of us taking new names on joining the tribe). And i'm not sure if i'm up to finding the words that can explain them if you were never there. Musically, they're not the greatest band that came out of the scene - although despite their claims to the contrary, neither are they the worst. Yes, there are Pink Holes tunes - from covers of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". "Long Tall Texan" and the old Stridex commercial ("The Proof Is On The Pad") to originals like "Crazy Slut" "MSB Love", and the guaranteed to offend everyone "My Mother". They're fun, they're catchy, they're great to blast out of your car window. But in a way, the music was always just an excuse for - well, the Pink Holes themselves.

i leave it to others to tell stories of the crazy shows they put on. i know i SAW them back in the day, but i think i missed a lot too; they may have played nights when i was home with two little kids making pizza and getting ready for the afterparty. What i can say is that seeing them live always seems to be this intense, cathartic experience - not exactly the same sort i experienced seeing Crash Worship, for instance; and yet closer to that than you might imagine. They were (are?) a sort of ultimate expression of having fun despite the pain. You lost your job, you crashed your car, you found out your guy or girl has been stepping out - fuck it. They'll make you forget that for a night.

Because really, who can remember any of those things when there's a stripper in a tiny jungle thong bikini tossing gift bags with CDs and cans of silly string out to the crowd, smoke bombs are going off onstage, pool noodles and trampolines - trampolines! - are being thrown into the audience, a gigantic stuffed animal is being torn to bits like a pig among the Maenads and good lord, what do you mean they're only three songs into the set?!

And by the grace of a connection back, a strand from before i severed ties that re-wove itself a bit sooner than the rest, i wound up directly in the heart of this maelstrom. i got asked if i could run lights for them - which is a bit of an in-joke, because their 'lights' consisted of four strands of twinkle lights - the musicians in pink and the lead singer in white - connected back to a junction box with regular old light switches wired together. A far cry from the 75 channel intelligent lighting programmable system i'd run the weekend before (and that weekend should/may yet be be an entry unto itself).

This meant that as soon as i'd jumped into that tray of broken beer bottles, MC Joe Gizmo and i were striking my props, i found my barefoot way back to a rear corner, and it was ON. Like i said, i've seen the Pink Holes before, but never from that perspective. Of course, what with the styrofoam pellets, the silly string, the smoke and the stage lights, i couldn't see much but the backs of the bassist and drummer. Reports are still filtering back to me of the things that went on, onstage as well as off. Stagediving, nudity, silly string in inappropriate orifices, they brought it all.

And where i come from, that was a freakin' RITUAL. i first started travelling in pagan circles in the middle of my time in the punk era, and could never escape comparing the two. i can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of bonfire nights i've been to that approached the sort of energy we'd raise during a good show. None of the punk side was Intentional in a magickal sense, but does that make it any less valid?

Not to me, friends. Not to me. Our tribe came together and celebrated, and maybe i'll get a chance this week to note down the rest of it before its gone from my firefly brain. But if i don't, it will be strictly because of finding the time. The high points were many, and i'm still both honored and charged to have been present for our reunion tribal stomp.

Space Mother tribe

Not long enough slow Sunday. i have to perform tonight - Audio-Visual Baptism 12, at Now That's Class - and i know, *know*, i'm not prepared. Of course i've done the glasswalking enough times i can about do it in my sleep; that part doesn't really worry me. Maybe it should; tho my feet are always tough, the depths of winter don't quite condition them properly (for those who don't know, glasswalking consists of me walking a six-foot tray of broken beer bottles and then jumping off a stepladder into it for a finale).

But i'm more concerned about the rest of the act - do i add some accordion, if so what; not having touched the thing in months until a day or two ago. Never having any songs really *learned* and certainly none rehearsed. And of course, the crisis nearest a costumer's heart: What to Wear?? Normally i LIVE in tights in winter, but i need to be able to get barefoot quickly, so those are out. i don't have to wear anything special at all, of course, but it is sort of part of the whole routine. And if i put together An Outfit, will that also require painting my face? That sounds like so much work. But i am kind of fond of some modified commedia facial art. Probably won't decide til i'm there.



Of course, the reason i don't feel like doing any of this today is that last night was a night out w/my wild grrlz. Women (womyn, wimmin) 40 and above, with roots in the punk scene, colorful pasts and *still* colorful present.S. Right now we are a small tribe but could easily double and triple in size, as each of us could potentially bring in three or four more who 'really should' be there. For right now, tho, we're a small tribe of fierce wimmin who go out terrorizing the locals, or at least hijacking random karaoke bars. Naturally, this requires the consumption of a certain amount of alcohol.. while i amazingly do NOT feel particularly hungover today - the quantum effects of proximity to so much coolness? - i still do not feel at the top of my game.

Which is why i'm sitting here in my bathrobe writing this instead of getting my act together for someplace i have to be in an hour. Dear me. Someone shall have to spank me. And on that note..

Rats and Bats and Tastes Like Chicken for Candy

Well. So much for 'soonest'. Its taken so long (read: i got too busy) that i decided to make this a separate blog, as the first was long enough. In fact i'll probably put up at least two tonight, to break the weekend into semi-manageable chunks. Not how i ~lived~ it of course. But then we can't all be the Fabulous Sascha Peppercorn. In fact, none of you can, because i already am. Heh.

i believe our intrepid heroine was last seen entering Duck Island Friday night. i love the Duck; its grimy and yet artsy, nothing works properly, and some of the crowd really DO lead sordid lives. Plus its not in an obvious location, almost in Tremont but not quite, so that you don't often have to worry about the plague of touristas that regularly infects some place like Edison's.

Friday was the one bartender's last night, so they were having a Sordid Lives party as her going-away. i've only seen the movie once, under rather dubious circumstances involving a drunken pilot and a pan of lasagna (don't ask). Friends of mine, however, are BIG S.L. fans, so i can recite "Why, Dr. Eve, you're not wearing any panties!" with the best of them. And there *was* tuna noodle casserole. Fried chicken. And apple pie. This was a good thing, because while i probably did eat before i'd left for the play, that would've been hours before and i was perhaps just a weeee bit woozy by then.

Ah, i nearly forgot! There were also three girls who came in late and sat side-by-side on one of the couches in front, hoovering up whatever food was left at that point. Gobble gobble gobble. My one friend said they looked like three dogs, their faces in the bowl. i didn't quite see that, but it *was* kind of funny how they were scrunched together, bent over the coffee table stuffing their dear little faces. Not even sure if they knew anyone there. Gotta love the Duck.

The rest of the night was - typical. Tag-team DJs (MC Cornflake, DJ Wednesday, DJ Slade - then also Jack Smiley, whose girlfriend was having a birthday party there, at the same time as the going-away). Clove cigarets. Dancing in the smoky back room. Wednesday played 48 Crash! How can you not love that?? Et cetera. The Duck is rather like a 9-volt battery.. eh, no, let's not make that analogy, shall we? You know its a dive, you know you don't *want* to know what all is in that couch, but you keep going back because..

Which i believe is about how Friday ended. That makes this a short-ish blog post, but then, i can do that sometimes, can't i? Of course i can. Really. Just watch me, watc-

Rats in Tuna-Noodle Casserole Paradise

Freshly showered, Arthur Brown's Kingdom Come on the record player, a cup of cold coffee at hand. Ready to try and note down last night before it all slips away.. another (too)crazy night in the fabulous life of a wolfkitten. Whose transformation to London party girl is a constant source of amusement to us all.

Mostly because this isn't London and girlhood is a long way behind me. But i intend to be Maude from Harold and when i grow old (sometime after the Mandy Slade phase passes), a doddering, wrinkled old lady with fire-engine red lipstick and false eyelashes - tho in my case, the lipstick will probably be lilac frost and the eyelashes tipped in silver glitter, one of them always, always askew. When i am old, i shall wear purple? Darlings, i've worn purple all along. When i am old - and i'm edging right up on being that *any day now* - i shall wear a top hat, and a fur coat, and dress like a Puerto Rican transvestite hooker. Coz that's just how i roll, bizzotch.

So yes. The last Friday of February. The day was worse than uneventful, but i managed to regain consciousness by late afternoon. i had a vague notion to stop at the Tremont library and pick out another DVD or two before the evening proper got underway, but shilly-shallied around until there was a scant 15 minutes left before the library closed and i was still getting dressed. Oops! In my defense, my steam-heated apartment is usually *very* warm and it can be difficult to wrap my head around the fact that i'll soon be standing outside smoking in below-freezing temperatures so yes, i really DO need that extra pair of socks.

Part of the plans for the night were to attend a Sordid Lives party, to which i had originally threatened to wear my waitress costume one more time. As Twitter followers already know, that didn't happen.. well, it really would have looked ODD the rest of the night. Instead, i chose a tasteful, low-key ensemble consisting of vintage black velvet mini-dress with studded collar and cuffs, wide black belt w/silvertone buckle around my hips, antelope-print velour bell-bottoms tucked in to black Ed Hardy 'tattoo' boots, topped with my shortie black rabbit fur jacket, top hat decked w/green Mardi Gras beads (the purple ones keep falling off) and my usual leopard-print fur gloves from Tarzhet. Yes, i am rather painfully aware that this blog is in desperate need of photos, but i haven't a digicam to my name. Wufkitties is technologicamally impairded.

Soo, once bedecked for the night ahead, i made a quick foray over to my local branch library, as i had a stack of cool Movie Night DVDs due back. Naturally i pulled in just as they were locking the door; hopefully i won't get fined the extra day :-( From there it was back home to an even-quicker bit of nosh - i <3 food that can be prepped with boiling water. TVP how i adore thee. Mmm, i think i need to make another pot of mock chicken noodle soup RIGHT NOW, hang on brb! Heh. Some day i will get around to posting my cookbook on Etsy ans then you can enjoy Mock Chicken Noodle in the privacy of your very own home.

Having re-fueled, i jumped into Severin Bloo, cranked up WCSB and headed to Tremont. Met up with some of the usual crew at Edison's.. i haven't decided yet how i should refer to those who make repeat appearances in my life in this here blog. First names only? Clever aliases? In-joke nicknames? Or maybe i should assign them all numbers, or single initials. i don't know. This is the interactive section of our blog, where you, gentle reader, can click right on down to that little 'comment' link at the bottom and have your say. O Web 2.0, how connected you have made all our lives!

Anyway, i barely had time for one quick cocktail at Eds - a black russian, in honor of it being National Kahlua Day. Mmm, have not had one of those in ~years~. i used to drink them all the time in a previous party girl incarnation, the one where i spent a lot of time inhaling butyl nitrate and dancing to Donna Summer in large, dimly-lit clubs filled with slim and sometimes mustachioed young men who really weren't too interested if i took my shirt off. Those were different times, as Uncle Lou says. But in a blink it was already 7:55, and the curtain for the Theater Ninjas production of "Crave" went up at 8:00. Good thing they are performing at Asterisk Gallery, a mere few doors down from Ed's - !

"Crave" isn't exactly a play, except that its performed by actors, who move about a stage area and recite lines in front of an audience. Some of those lines can be heard in the trailer (i don't know what you see, since the gumdrop refuses to show me). Asterisk has a central staircase in the floor as you enter from the lobby - the building was originally a nickelodeon, i believe - so that the audience was seated to either side of that. The actors would come together in the center, then break apart, sometimes flying into far corners of the gallery. The seating arragement meant that each half of the audience could see into one of the 'backstage wings', while action in the other one was effectively 'offstage'. Apparently, there are no stage directions at all in the play itself, so the choreographed action was all developed specifically for this production, in this space, by this troupe. Not a piece for the 'Tony & Tina's Wedding' crowd, but one i really enjoyed.

One of the actresses, in the role of 'M.', is someone i know and work with at the Liminis. Afterwards, the cast came out to mingle in the lobby, so we had a glass of wine and got to meet everyone. M. (as i shall call her for now) introduced me to the director and assistant director of the Theater Ninjas, and put in a word for me as possible costumer for their next production, "Heddatron". Robotic Ibsen? Oh *hells* yes. i'd already been eyeing audition notices on this one, trying to figure out if/how i might qualify somehow. But as costumer? Teh squee, i be has-ing it naow.

Of course, this one opens two weeks after "The Mineola Twins", which i'm stage-managing at the Liminis, and two weeks *before* the Fairie Festival, which is really the only craft show/event i do any more, and for which i should already be building up stock coz i'll sell almost everything i bring. Fortunately, the big secret "Center for Rock Research" project had to be pushed back to June, or i would ALSO be running lights on a brand-new DMX lighting system i know virtually jack and squat about right on opening night. As it is, it would be heaping my plate up pretty full, but hello? Theater work? If they offer it, you KNOW i'm going to say yes. And then proceed to drive myself backwards getting everything done in the next two months. See above reference to purple.

So. Yes. Since "Crave" is just less than an hour long, we were done and out of there while it was still relatively early - so back to Edison's for a moment to re-group. There, i was reminded that Kid Tested, fronted by a friend of mine, was playing at the Matinee; but i didn't think i wanted to try and squeeze one more thing into an already whirly night. So instead i headed directly to Duck Island, tho my one pal did hit the Matinee first. i hear Megachurch were really good and from his description i'm sorry i missed them. Can't recall if they're a Lottery League band but i'm kind of thinking so (ok i'm wrong). Btw, for anybody who might be wondering, ~why~ would such a fabulous creature as myself live in Cleveland of all places?!, just click that Lottery League link.

Ah darlings, its nearly time i was out the door, so the best(?!)(wildest) part of the evening shall just have to await my return. i don't think i'd better try driving to the Beachland in me undies, tho, so its time to pick out tonight's outfit and hustle my tuchus. Back soonest. Mwaaah.