Recuperative. Soft. No drain on my brain. Getting into the moment. Being able to sink into the present. Just take your time. Take your time.<\/p>\n
Mitchell and I headed out at around 9:30 a.m. to get down to Southport … we were going to see the 11:30 a.m. show of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times<\/i> at The Music Box<\/a> (my favorite movie theatre on the planet). We were meeting up with Erik and his boyfriend Michael for the show – which was going to be a total treat. Last time I saw Erik<\/a>, he made me look like a babealicious babealolio – and turned me on to the Smashbox makeup line forever<\/a>. Mitchell had never seen Modern Times<\/i> so I was SO excited to be there when Mitchell saw it. I had to force myself to let him have his own experience and not get all in his face every other minute, whispering, “Isn’t this awesome???” But it was a blast! The film has it all. It’s laugh-out-loud funny – and, like Mitchell said later, “It’s got fart jokes, tit jokes – there’s that whole cocaine incident … It’s totally ahead of its time.” And Paulette Goddard is awesome … she’s got a contemporary style of beauty. Natural and fresh-faced, kinda Maggie Gylennhall-ish. I particularly love the scene when Chaplin notices a flag that has dropped off a truck (he has just been released from jail for, oh, the 10th time) – and he picks up the flag and starts running after the truck, waving the flag crazily, like: “You dropped something! You dropped something!” And – at that very moment – a parade comes around the corner, obviously a Communist labor party parade – with people waving flags and signs about liberty and labor … and inadvertently, Chaplin (who can’t see the parade behind him) – running along waving his flag – looks like the leader of the parade – and is, again, thrown into jail. I just love how that parade suddenly appears. Now that is my kind of humor.<\/p>\n More to tell. But I’m in my pajamas, and it’s grey outside, and I have been sleeping like a rock, and am starting to feel a little bit better.<\/p>\n I finished my biography of Martin Van Buren and now I’m back to finishing Post Captain<\/i> by Patrick O’Brian. I couldn’t read fiction for a month or so … but I’m going to give it a shot now.<\/p>\n Spent the afternoon yesterday at Sidetrack<\/a> – it was “show tunes” afternoon. They put together these phenomenal clips of musical numbers – from Tony Award shows through the ages, to people singing on the damn Mike Douglas show – clips from movies … I love show tunes days at Sidetrack – I used to join Mitchell there constantly when I lived here. Everyone sings along, the place gets PACKED, and it’s just the best atmosphere – friendly, flamboyant, loud, and FUN.<\/p>\n The “pick a little talk a little” clip came on from The Music Man<\/i> and I surprised myself by knowing all the words, even the incidental dialogue during the song. I did all the parts:<\/p>\n “Professor, her kind of woman doesn’t belong on any committee. Of course, I shouldn’t tell you this but she advocates dirty books.” FUN. There’s something vaguely decadent about drinking a cocktail during the day … and there are couches at Sidetrack, so we sank into the couches, and just howled with laughter, and randomly burst into song, and talked … and, in general, had a great time. Like Mitchell said later: there’s something relaxing about being with a group of people who are so QUICK, comedically – you never ever have to explain the joke, you never have to say, “No, what I was referring to was that funny thing you said about half an hour ago …” Never. It’s all back, forth, quick, making connections, bursting into laughter … it’s conversation as a GROUP EVENT, not a series of individual monologues. God, I love that.<\/p>\n It’s a grey day. I’m in my pajamas. I have coffee going. I might venture out into Andersonville in a bit, to walk around, and re-visit my old haunts. Oh, and yesterday – after Modern Times<\/i>, the 4 of us strolled by the house where Mitchell and I lived for a year – it was behind the Music Box … that’s the place where M. would crawl through my window at 3 in the morning<\/a>. Michael and Erik didn’t know the story, so Mitchell filled them in (we were all busting out laughing at the image of M. hanging in Mitchell’s window, saying apologetically, “Sorry … I’m looking for Sheila …” ) I peeked down the alley and there was my old bedroom window – and I almost could see the figure of M., standing below my window … summer nights from so long ago. I like to do pilgrimages like that.<\/p>\n And at 4:30 – I’m meeting up with Erik at Barney’s – where he works now … so he can do my makeup yet again. I’m excited. A little bit of pampering, and a little bit of re-thinking … of my face, my looks … I’ve been feeling haggish, spinsterish, and exhausted. He offered to give me a makeover and I’m so grateful and happy about it. Thank you, Erik!!!<\/p>\n Yesterday was a slow and blooming day, nowhere to be, nowhere urgent, nothing pressing … just walking around, and having lunch, and seeing a movie, and singing show tunes at the top of my lungs with the gay population of Chicago … I’m grateful for yesterday. Grateful for my friends here.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Recuperative. Soft. No drain on my brain. Getting into the moment. Being able to sink into the present. Just take your time. Take your time. Mitchell and I headed out at around 9:30 a.m. to get down to Southport … … Continue reading
\n“Dirty books!”
\n“Chaucer!”
\n“Rabelais!”
\n“BALZAC!”
\n“And the worst thing…”
\n“Of course, I shouldn’t tell you this but-”
\n“I’ll tell.”
\n“The man lived on my street, let me tell.”
\n“Stop! I’ll tell: She made brazen overtures to a man who never had a friend in this town till she came here.
\nOh, yes, that woman made brazen overtures
\nWith a gilt-edged guarantee
\nShe had a golden glint in her eye
\nAnd a silver voice with a counterfeit ring
\nJust melt her down and you’ll reveal
\nA lump of lead as cold as steel
\nHere, where a woman’s heart should be!”<\/p>\n