Traveling Light

So I'm going to San Antonio to spend a week with my friends Jesse and Julie. I'll be flying on Southwest Airlines courtesy of the Kanner Lubbering Foundation for Peace, Love and Happiness which is hosting an event up in Kerrville, Texas called: The Total Eclipse of the Sun.

I'm excited. I haven't been on a plane since 2016 when Danielle and I flew from NYC to Los Angeles to see M83 at the Greek Theatre. I'm opting for the window seat since I'll be flying during the day which presents the perfect opportunity to playact the role of Helios looking down at all the mortals gazing skyward (on April 8th, the day of the eclipse), which I consider an appropriate prelude to my pilgrimage. I revel in dramatic flights of pretending, especially if they are inspired by the spirit of symmetry.

Pretending is manifest in a variety of fashions: such as the spontaneous improv, or the long contemplated ruse, and the most common pretense of all—the godforsaken habitual. I like to be equitable and taste everything on the appetizer tray, so I might start my 7am coffee ritual with a harmless bit of operatic wailing performed for a family of mice bickering in the laundry room, and naturally, I'm accompanied by Yo-Yo Ma who is all smiles as he encourages a skosh more soprano even though he knows, damn well, I'm a tenor. But honestly, I'm grateful for his nudging. And after lunch (grilled cheeses with a side of kosher dills), I'll lace up my sneakers with the intention of walking my requisite 2.5 miles yet inevitably I end up in bed reading another chapter of The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich and just as I contemplate a nap I bust out the iPad and start writing a new blog and debate whether I should sit by the window or the aisle because they both have their pros and cons but I end up convincing myself the window is better because I can be Helios, and it's settled. Then night rolls around and I think about weed and how I haven't had any gummies or hit the pipe since the start of the year and I say, good for you, and wonder where I ended up hiding the stash even though I know it's in the bin I tucked deep inside a dead closet so I wouldn't think about it—the "it" being whether or not I'll convince myself that weed helps me sleep better and eases my chronic-itis—but instead I'll get on the yoga mat and do my three sets because I'm reborn and I've put my hurts in the same bin with the weed and then tomorrow night I'll turn on the purple light and I'll think about how there is no way just one puff will make a difference. And these are the ways I pretend.

As my friend Doug would say, "We all got to be something."

I think I'll be a good listener when I get to San Antonio and I'll bring my camera even though I have a tendency to use the viewfinder as a doppelganger. But I know that somewhere between me and my pretense is the spiritual balance that I speak of and trust.

⌘

Mash-Up: The Dance of Two

I typically present one photo at a time, but lately I've been feeling goofball so I decided to create a romantic mash-up of two unsuspecting images. This might even turn into a thing I do every now and again. It was just so delightfully random. I like taking pictures and non sequiturs are fun!—which reminds me about the time I met the sweetest couple in a smoky West Village lounge in NYC. They had been dancing together for over two decades, always on Tuesday, twice a month. They were Crystal and Darshan and they put on a show that made me blush. It went a little something like this.

Crystal whispered into Darshan's ear, "It takes two to tango, ain't that right my deer?" their antlers locked on the parquet floor.

"Ahhh, my dirty goat,” Darshan teased, “Don't forget about the two second rule." With a flourish he disengaged, whipping his ebony mane backwards and sideways, fully embracing his inner stallion.

Crystal kicked her leg high to disco heaven. "Step two-three, slide five-six; and again two-three, sliiide,” her spirit transformed into a metronome on a stiff macchiato, relentlessly dominating the beat.

"Two peas in a mutha-fuckin’ pod," Darshan growled and pulled Crystal effortlessly into his engorged sacral chakra: black, shiny, spandex.

Crystal roared, "Closer than two coats of paint. Do it again, do it again, you beast!" With hardly an effort she tossed a well prepared Darshan halfway across the dance floor, like a rag doll, an absolute display of muscle. With arms crossing his chest, Darshan's torso rotated gracefully in perfect circles, floating in the air, seemingly forever. The onlookers felt the wispy breeze from a confident double lutz and were delighted to hear the exclamation, "Touche my darling!" just as Darshan floated back to earth, his landing—perfect.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush. Magnificent, my dove!" Darshan took a bow as Crystal cooed and performed her crowd pleasing pigeon strut complete with happy flapping wings and a barrage of bonafide twerks.

Darshan, panting in awe, was hypnotized by the butt. 

The house erupted with catcalls and whistles, palms raw from sweaty, enthusiastic claps. A few retreated to the bar, some were jealous, others repulsed, but everyone was secretly hoping for an encore.

But what was I saying? Oh right, follow the yellow brick road; it might take you to a community of animals where the odds are, give or take, 50/50 that you will find someone who loves to tango—just, as much, as you.

⌘

Don't Think

Yes, and: the basic philosophy of the Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB).

UCB is an improv and sketch comedy group that eventually morphed into a theatre and training center. I learned about UCB when I lived in NYC and went to a bunch of their shows in Chelsea and the East Village. I was bummed when they shuttered their NY presence in 2020 but happy to know they still have a home in Los Angeles. Although I moved to NYC in 1995 I didn't learn about UCB until 2013 which is when I met Elle who was taking a series of classes at UCB and subsequently became a member of an NYC improv troupe called, "Ski Legend." I went to all of their gigs and started to delight in the art of improv. 

Yes, and. An improv scene usually starts with someone in the group making a statement about something to another person in the group. The other person agrees with what they heard (yes) and then adds another detail (and). 

View fullsize

The front of Elle’s t-shirt which she purchased at the UCB in Chelsea, NYC

When Elle and I took a trip to London in 2015 we treated ourselves to an improv show called "Austentatious" which is an improvised Jane Austen novel. London is brilliant. We spent five days based out of the Ace Hotel in Shoreditch and packed in as much as we could: the London Eye, a spot of tea, the Tate Modern, the National Portrait Gallery, fish and chips, the Soho Theatre. We walked everywhere and thought London would be wicked if we knew somebody that lived there, an artist perhaps, someone that showed us London on the cheap, nothing too fancy, maybe a trip beyond the perimeter, a tad more intimate.

These are the dreams of adventure.

In the meantime, Baltimore is as good as anywhere to embrace intimacy, which is basically what improv is all about. Yes, and—positively support your partner, keep the scene moving forward, and don’t think too much, just go with the flow. Trust. Improv partners are everywhere; we just have to recognize when a scene begins.

I received a message from a friend the other day inviting me to submit one of my photos for a collective photography exhibition called “I Don’t Know What You See” hosted by the artist IMPREINT and featuring 28 artists from around the world. This was the beginning of the scene. I said yes, and sent them Diesel. 

The exhibition will be on Saturday, 15 October from 15:00-23:00 BST at the IMPREINT Space—in London. 

It’s smashing to be back. 

View fullsize

The back of Elle’s t-shirt which she purchased at the UCB in Chelsea, NYC (sequined heart added by Elle)

⌘