The Next Ten Minutes

Hello intrepid readers.

I've decided that my next few blog posts will consist of the uncensored stories from my trip to Europe, the sorts of tales that I could not include in my mass e-mails that were read by my parents, my grandmother, my friends' parents, their grandparents, and various siblings and family friends. I do not think that any of them would take well to hearing the stories of how we nearly lost our lives to rabid squirrels in an underground casino called Kryzerkerek in Budapest, or how we dodged masked and hooded thieves on train cars in Slovakia. I do know, however, that all of you are extremely interested in the sordid details of my grand adventure in Europe. I am more than willing to entertain this curiosity.

But the unveiling of my dirty, dirty soul will have to wait, for I need to tell of this weekend's antics. As you may or may not know I am in Sarasota, mostly without peers, and supremely unemployed. I am attempting to remedy this unemployment but nobody seems to want to hire me, and so I mostly wander the house, usually taking an hour or two a day to go to the gym. Sometimes I put on my best and run some errands. Occassionally I go out to dinner with the family. Maybe I catch up on episodes of Lost or Heroes (please don't be dead Peter, Milo Ventimiglia is so hot and you are so totally my Luke Skywalker and I might have to boycott the show if you do not return from nuclear obliteration in the stratosphere p.s. I totally love you). I also read a lot of magazines. However, I am extraordinarily bored, so when the lovely Phil Chernyak invited me to a party he was hosting this past weekend in Orlando I readily accepted.

How lovely for one to be reminded that one is not a decorative accessory to a house but, rather, a vital, living, breathing person whose company people might actually enjoy. OhmyGoodness, I thought to myself, I can actually have a conversation and be witty and charming. La dee dah! I have belatedly befriended Phil's friends and am thoroughly enamored. This might be because they are film people--film people and their distant cousins theatre people have always been an addiction of mine. When I am not around film or theatre people I wander about, eyes glazed and skin pale, sweaty and shivering.

So what happened this weekend? Well Phil and his friend Marco through a music-based party which involved a piano, attempted show tunes, a request for a torch song (and subsequent failure to deliver) and a great deal of wine. I didn't touch the wine. I did have an unhealthy amount of Diet Coke, and was therefore bouncing off the walls until 4:30 in the morning. Marco's roommates own a rather demented but adorable dachshund which provided mild entertainment. Inebriated partygoers offered further entertainment. And when all else failed cinematography magazines offered entertainment of an aesthetic sort. I'm usually not a fan of parties but this one delivered, although I can picture several different tracks the party could have taken were I A) More awake or B) More inebriated.

Sleeping location for Saturday night was provided by the lovely Lindsay Denniberg (yay thankyou) but was prematurely interrupted at 10:00 by the entrance of a giant film crew and the cacophony that followed. Since I had gone to bed at, oh, seven, all I could do was lie and stare at the ceiling. By the time I traipsed upstairs trailing my blanket and pillow I was so wired and awake that there was little left for me to do but dress for the day. After said robing I collected Phil Chernyak, we ate us some Crispers (the Thai Peanut Salad is my favorite salad and there was joy) and I bought some unnecessary vinyl toys at Uberbot which is a larger, less chaotic version of the Kid Robot store that just happens to be in Winter Park as opposed to SoHo. Fun random factoid about Lindsay is that she collects little vinyl toys, especially those with a twisted streak. When I was in Paris three years ago I bought two bondage themed blind box toys at the Centre Pompidou: a little pink hamster with a ball gag and a little white bunny with leather and chains. That basically sums up my personality.

After various levels of consumption Phil and I viewed Waitress at the Enzian and I loved it and you should all see it and I cried like a lost child at the film's end. I haven't wept that thoroughly for a film since Dancer in the Dark (and E.T. when they re-released it but if people knew how much I sobbed at the end of E.T. I'm not sure they'd want to know me anymore...) and that is all I am going to say regarding this topic I already feel naked and vulnerable damn you all.


Well that last sentence propels me readily to the fact that I did a bit of nude modeling this weekend. Lindsay Denniberg and Mariam (another of Phil's friends, who I also adore, and she's moving to China in August for a year and that is simply unspeakably fabulous) are artists and do figure drawing and I offered to pose for them. As an art historian I've always wanted to put myself in the position of art object--I figured it'd make my Gender Studies professor's head spin. That and I'm a closet exhibitionist. So I laid out like Titian's Venus of Urbino (see above) for a few hours, and was drawn by Lindsay and Mariam and, later on, James-who-entertained-me-and-I-thank-him-for-that and Marisa-the-other-roommate-who-I-met-for-the-first-time-nude-and-it-should-have-been-awkward
-but-really-wasn't. I think I'd like to do this modelling thing again--absolutely not weird, absolutely liberating and relaxing (I know I relaxed can you believe it?!). To any of my artists friends: I will model for you anytime, so let me know if you want me.

Last night I actually got some sleep at the house of Chris Shields/Mariam/Jim the Stray (actually my fellow stray, Hi Jim!) and I thank them immensely for their hospitality. Actually I just thank all of Phil's friends for being uber-fantastic--this weekend was a welcome break from the doldrums of Sarasota. I love playing Hurricane Lindsay--blowing through Orlando leaving a wake of hysteria and charm and flailing hands. I'll probably wander through again sometime this summer, some of my new favorite people are in Orlando and I will need a dose before I move halfway up the Eastern Coast.

This was essentially a post of peace and love and happiness--very cloying, but do forgive. Tomorrow I'll be back to my typical acerbic self, and will regale all of you with the story about how I this crazy orgy with some nymphs and some satyrs in a back alley in the Gazi district of Athens...