i know all about it, so you don't have to shout it

so. this is it.

25.

i'm up late when i am beyond the point of exhaustion because the thoughts don't stop.
this week has been a week of unending activism. i have been wanting to blog about the events of the MS Reproductive Freedom Summer, but everything has been so busy and honestly, to the point of debilitating. in a few hours i will join the march to the capitol with many other pro-choice activists and supporters. i will blog about each day and the effect on me and those i see after this day is done.

that day is also my birthday. #25.

i get so reflective on my birthday. is it bad? good? useful? useless?
i review my year as one birthday to the next. this birthday is so different from what i imagined it would be the day i turned 24. things fail sometimes, but you take the wreckage and make something better out of it. that's what 24 taught me.

i think that 25 will teach me that this is MY life to live and this is my one chance to do it big. i will see the corners of the u.s. in the next few months and by my next birthday, i will hopefully be settling into my new town and getting ready for school, ready to tackle the world.

and now the thoughts settle.

Project Runway episode 2

So....today I mourn for our departed Malan. He was so...such a....um, trainwreck? That child made up that story about his momma throwing his designs on the floor. Still, I would have been entertained by watching him (eventually) spar with Detroit and Ursher.

By the way, we don't actually call many of these people by their real names in our house.
Vincent= old basket dude
Laura= Sternum
Michael= Ursher
_____=Detroit (um, what is his name?)

and etc...just so you know how to decipher these episodic posts.

angela, formerly known to basket as allison, was made to be the villain this episode, which i don't really understand. yes, she is completely incompetent in the design world ("um..i don't really sketch. how do you feel about GLOVES??") and could stand to chill with the arts 'n' farts 'n' crafts. however, i still maintain that basket should have been kicked off. he completely cut her out of the project. i bet he would have been if old bitch would have grown a backbone and stood up for herself.

the lot of dresses were in a word: mediocre. i'm not very impressed with the design skills of these people (yet). kayne's ready to go home since his awful iridescent "masterpiece" was crowned (hee!) the winner. dude wet himself and went back to kentucky. malan draped his model in a big piece of poo (literally...did you see that thing?), basket's dress had a case of the judy jetson, and then there's the rest of...slightly flesh colored "masterpieces."

anyway, i'm still waiting for the big mystery tim gunn's "i'm going to have to ask you to leave" scandal.

until then....keep watching.

Project Runway number 3

So...this new cast may have some excitement in them after all. I have been waiting for this.

Malan is just...crazy. When asked where he's from, he replied, "Born in Taiwan...and...from...uh...all ovah." Dude is gonna reveal one of these episodes that he's straight outta Compton.

Ursher's coffee filter dress was really...pretty. and the gay southern boy's comment about it smelling like febreze cracked me up.

And then there's Detroit Rock City Neck. His attempt at Santino's villainous shoes is only so-so. Dude...chill with the gray hoodie, okay?

I can't wait to see who is getting kicked out for violating the rules of the game. Sometimes, I think I want Tim Gunn to be my baby daddy. Hmm...maybe not. He likes turtleneck sweaters too much. Oh...and he's the gay, so he probably wouldn't comply to being baby-daddy.

Humph.

If you don't watch this show, what in the hells is wrong with you??

PSA: Fondren Theatre Workshop

I ripped this info from Beth, but I'm sure she won't mind. :) If any of you are reading from the Jackson area, please make sure to come out for this.


Come see what everyone’s talking about.
FTW's 3rd Annual New Play Project
Rainbow Co-op Plaza
2807 Old Canton Rd.Jackson, Mississippi
July 13-16 at 7:30pm

Eight plays. Four nights. Two rounds of performances:
Round one: Thursday July 13 & Saturday, July 15 (Mature audiences)
Last Rights by Charles and Stephen Morgan; Voices in the Storm by J.C. Patterson; Until Death Do Us Part by Katrina Byrd; Unshelved by Beth Kander

Round two: Friday, July 14 and Sunday, July 16 (Rated PG some adult themes)The Visit by Judy Tucker; Unborn Ghosts by George Vance; Getting Real by Sue Stock; Interrupted Journey by John Howell.

Admission is $7.00, or an $11.00 "festival pass" gives admission to both rounds.

Come early: tickets sold at door. Performances followed by talkback with playwrights.

Half of all proceeds will be donated to Operation Shoestring and organizations endorsed by The One Campaign to End Poverty.

So, for any of y'all reading this in the Jackson area, come support local artists, charities, and the downtown Jackson scene!

i wish you were here

Syd Barrett died. That's really sort of sad.

it's hard to take courage/in a world full of people

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
--grateful dead (lyrics: robert hunter)



the past couple of months became a time of intense examination of my life and how it is lived, rather, not lived. my salvation came in the form of harvest and american beauty, interestingly enough. through a few small roadtrips for exploration and expression, i embodied that moment at the end of "Freaks and Geeks" when lindsay weir feels it. that was my moment, too. that was my moment, or at least, something like it.

that moment is clarity. clarity for where my path goes. we are all on this monstrous path, a journey to the center, with turns, twists, forks, all those road terms. great metaphor, right? personally, i think so, yes. after we get plopped right down into the middle of that path, we get to choose where we turn off, where we wander, how we get around something to get back to the path. but maybe, just maybe, that path doesn't look like it did before. it's still the same path, but those turn-offs and detours make the world look just a little bit different.

the world looks different since i saw it a few months ago. is it because i changed or is it because i stayed the same while the world around me changed? how much do you account into the big picture? things are brighter, more meaningful and while my days are gone before i can begin them, my life is lived at a wonderful pace. i have seen what passion is again...for so long i forgot and now i remember.

applications are flying, flights are being booked, friends are contacted and the world spins at a dizzying speed. i am at once frightened and on tiptoes in anticipation for what comes next.

but first, a loose end--and i hope you read this and understand:

i want to apologize for the awful things i said. in a fit of rage and disappointment, i wanted you to hurt like me. i wanted you to feel the stings. i should never have cut you with words like i did and for that i am sorry. i threw words at you like daggers and i dream about the wounds i created at the time. i don't know that i'll ever look you in the face again and be able to commune over songwriters and which album feels like home. i do hope that our time gave you fodder for the most amazing songs of your life. all i ask of you is to break your lyrical boundaries. i know that our moments have fertilized the unkempt corners of my short-story life. you became a lost chapter in my collection of lives, but you are slowly moving into the index from "someone i used to know" to "someone i used to love." the good memories are returning and the veil of hurt is quickly receding. i wonder how your memory will see me. will i be filed away as a former, a once-was? will i be forgotten forever? will we be able to incidentally cross paths again and laugh about our follies and grieve together about the friendship we lost?

my hope is for all of those things...my hope is that you are truly happy and that you find direction around the corner where it's been waiting to meet you*, that you take the moment to finally see past yourself.

i know i have. and my god, does the world look beautiful from here.

*(thank you, robert hunter, again)

how does it feel?

i picked up the new Paste last week and have read it over and over, thinking about what commentary i wanted to post here. i have a lot of thoughts on the 100 Greatest Living Songwriters, but i'll just bring up a few:

1) Right on. YES. Bob Dylan is #1 on that list and absolutely should be with Neil Young nipping at his heels.

2) Where is Jeff Mangum? Ben Gibbard? BEN FUCKIN' GIBBARD?!?

3) I don't agree with the entire order (Bob Pollard showing up in the 70/80s..SUCH a shame), but I am glad that Paste allowed readers to compile their own list. Also, the blurbs about each artist (or in the case of Alan Partridge and Dylan, articles) were written by highly respected music writers and musicians.

i'm still digesting the order and i'm sure i'll comment more about it.

go buy it anyway and read it...they include some of the best, errr..., poignant lyrics from each songwriter.

suspicious minds want to know

What a weekend with time well-spent with lots of long-lost friends who happened upon Jackson. had a cookout with the ladies over in brandon (including a munchkin i haven't seen in over 3 years) and another cookout with (quite possibly, the loves-of-my-life) jerry & alex et al. the holiday weekend was filled with much cooking, lots of new & old friends (on the coattails of a very successful supper club) and absorbing renewed energy.

j&a came into jackson and we declared that the 4th of july would be moved to the 3rd so as to honor their presence. i have missed the hell out of those two. charlotte, here i come.

that brings me to the real 4th of july. all else fails, amy intern and i trekked to holly springs to see if mr. world's #1 elvis fan would be willing to entertain us for the independence day.

oh, yes, we got to holly springs. and we got into graceland too.

this was my second visit ever and i am in awe that we left alive. at no less than 27 times did i wonder if we were going to be chopped into tiny pieces and stored with his alleged ex-wife ("She said it was her or elvis. I gave her a million in caszzzzzsh and said so long!").

the zzzz is to indicate the problem with his speech due to extremely ill-fitting dentures that slide around when he talks. i wish he was a hillbilly. he's not...still has the accent of the detroit auto worker he was.



have you ever been to this place? this stuffed, stenched antebellum home in bumfuck, ms?
he claims that he and his son (who hasn't been seen in 3 years, but is constantly referred to by mr. scary in his "tour") have compiled millions of tv clips, newspaper clippings, references, anything related to elvis presley. by the way, his son is named elvis a(a)ron presley macleod. yes, i am serious.

you never actually learn anything about elvis, just how much the collection is worth or could be bought for. i think we heard figures of 250k (offered by bill clinton), a million ("not for a million dollars in caszzzzzzzzsh!") and even the more unbelievable 10 million. he has trunks "full" of carpet from the jungle room at graceland. they are under locks and are never opened. the second you get the courage to ask about it, he touches you and then you feel the need to run away screaming. he also repeatedly refers to tom cruise and his dog. that also gives you the feeling of crawling out of your skin.



the man has built a working electric chair in his Jailhouse Rock backyard...with ten foot barbed wire fences! and a mannequin named Sparky whose unfortunate demise comes with each test of the electric chair.

also, coke "makes me so damn horny! i used to jump my wife 2 times a day, 21 times a week, 365 days a year!" and all the cops and sheriff deputies, etc. all know how to get to his house. why you ask? how do they know? "because they're all ni**ers!" the picture he took of us for the wall of visitors must betray our silent screams.

he is obsessed with numbers, talks your ear off about how we should marry his son and split the money with him, and makes curiously offensive remarks. i personally think he is somewhere on the autism spectrum. that is not a joke. i seriously think that. he is also at once heartbreakingly sad and intriguing. has his loneliness backed him into a corner of tragedy.

the only curious item that he actually has on display (not one of the many things he suggests he has "in warehouses in 3 different states!") is this record, which he says is just elvis answering 4 questions. he claims there are only 15 copies of this one-sided record and that he has one of them:



it's a blurry photo, yes, but does anyone have an inkling as to whether this is truth or not?

my money's on not.

thus ends adventures in Mentally Unstableville.