Read an article last night in Vanity Fair about Hugh Hefner and part of me fantasizes about living that kind of lifestyle – having a whole posse of boy and girlfriends that all want to be around me and be with me – re-creating myself in a better life(stye?). Embracing decadence and hedonism. Fucking like a minx till 5am and then eating breakfast in bed at 3 in the afternoon. It is endlessly interesting to me the culture we’re raised in that constantly asserts that somewhere someone else is having a much better time than you are and if you would just dress like this, act like this, buy this, eat this, drinks this then you too could be blessed.
Ran this morning. Rehearsal was sort of lukewarm last night. I’m in that amorphous section before the big downhill rush to get a production up and running. The actors are settling into there ways of doing things – which I know will all be thrown to hell once we get in the real space and have to do some re-staging. Having trouble enduring the constant babble around me as I work. Too many women talking. I know my dad gets annoyed by that too – and my mom now that she works at dad’s school half the week. Just all the talking and the same cadence of the same voices and the same subject matter. The same voices pitching into excitement ascending into falsetto and remaining there for paragraphs on end.
I have too many email addresses: 2 Yahoo accounts, bi_next_door@hotmail, andy@s________.com, andy@w_______.com, plus my work email, plus online personals accounts at Nerve.com, Gay.com, PlanetOut. This is nuts. I find myself checking the personals accounts way too often – hoping for a bite from my ads out there – god forbid I actually go out and meet people in the traditional way. Need to call that Al guy I met last week and let him lavish me with a dinner. Maybe I should play dumb hunk more often. Hmmm… things to ruminate. Chew chew chew. What if I kept my intellect as a secret weapon?? Hmmm…
I have all of these ideas for club mixes in my heads – samples and break beats that need to get out of me. I’m top-full of direst cruelty. I’ve been reading books on investing the past few nights before sleeping and was actually dreaming of Aerovox (ARVX). Strange.
I need a sandwich.
Yeah – I said SAMWICH. Like an OMWICH – which I think is still one of the most disgusting-looking food products out there – almost as bad as croissan’wich. Omwich. Look at it. It just sort of sits there like a big turd. Om. Wich. Just read an email received by a co-worker where the writer had no clue how to conjugate verbs or use consistent verb tense. And the best part is the letter started with ‘Um…’. I still think literacy is the key to so many social ills. I figure if people can read anything – they can learn anything – and then they can do anything.
And as if I needed any more convincing to get out of online dating:
Trevor met Wynema in a chat room…. she sent him photographs of herself [and] he decided to up-sticks to the States to be with her. However, the photographs were taken over 35 years ago, and Trevor was met at the airport by a rather larger, and older woman than he expected. But worse was to come, [she] had kept the dead body of her former flatmate in her freezer, because she wanted to continue living in his house, and keep drawing money from his account. (via Metafilter)