Please realize. This is MY version. She may say something totally different. Although I’ll kill her if she leaves out the kumquat. I say it was a gourd. She insists it was a kumquat. We’ll leave it at that.<\/p>\n
It’s an episodic story. And YEARS pass in between encounters. It’s truly insane to think of it – and I sometimes actually shiver<\/i> to imagine that we might not have met. I shiver<\/i>. And weirdly, with all of our friends in common, what brought us together was our blogs.<\/p>\n
Well, and Mitchell, of course. Surprise surprise.<\/p>\n
Praise Xenu it all lined up properly, putting us in each other’s paths. Oh, and praise Xenu himself, that damned evil warlord, for REALLY bringing us close together. But I’ll get to that.<\/p>\n
We need to go back 16 years. I have just realized that I am actually a withered crone.<\/p>\n
I had just moved to Chicago. And Mitchell soon followed. I had very quickly gotten work as an actress in Chicago and so had Mitchell. e became involved with StreetSigns’ production of Right As Rain<\/i>, which was about Anne Frank. I eventually was cast in that as well, in its touring company. So almost immediately we were thrust into a brand-new world, meeting a whole batch of new people – many of whom are still dear friends today. Around that time, StreetSigns did a production of Lorca’s The Public<\/i>, a bizarre piece of work which I thought was brilliantly done. I still remember some of the staging. Derek Goldman (artistic director) is a master adapter and he was always all about excavating the script for theatrical<\/i> ways to tell the story – not just verbal or literal. Mitchell and David and I went to go see it, to see our new friends in action, and also to see our fellow colleagues at work, even though we weren’t in it. And Alex was in it. This was my first glimpse of her. She had THE key part, as the emcee, a sort of omnipresent Joel Grey in Cabaret type person. She wore a blinding white pant suit. She had an air of authority and her body language was one of riveting stillness. She watched over the action, quietly. When she spoke, it was always in a soft voice, but nevertheless commanding. She had such focus<\/i> onstage. I was riveted. Not to the mention the fact that I knew (everyone knew) she was a trans woman. Now that I know she basically sits at home on a nightly basis in comfy pajamas playing with her cats and talking with her wife Chrisanne about Abraham Lincoln and Bette Davis it seems even silly to mention it. I never think of it now, but at the time, I couldn’t help but think, “Who IS this person??” Not to mention the fact that she was obviously an amazing fucking actress<\/i>. <\/p>\n2.<\/h3>\n
2 may come before 3. I can’t remember. Mitchell got a day job as a receptionist in a dentist’s office that catered primarily to the gay and lesbian community in Chicago. Michelle and Maureen (Michelle was the dentist, and Maureen was her doctor girlfriend) became huge parts of our lives in Chicago, beloved friends, and I will never, and I mean NEVER, forget that Maureen made a house call – a HOUSE CALL – in this day and age – when I was gravely sick with a fever – to the point of hallucinating<\/a> – and had no insurance<\/a>. THAT’S a doctor. I loved those two and I miss them both. And I knew, through Mitchell, that Alex was a patient of Michelle’s. Mitchell didn’t become friends with her immediately (which is shocking, knowing Mitchell’s propensity for friendship) but they did become friendly. I never saw Alex at Michelle’s office, and had no encounters with her … but her name was everywhere at the time because of a crazy late-night hit show she was doing. I wanted to know her. I remember that feeling. Wanting to know her. But we wouldn’t actually SPEAK – not really – until 2004. How did we hold off that long?<\/p>\n My time in Chicago (and for many years after) was taken up with a guy I call “M” on this site. I’ve written about him extensively. He’s the lunatic who used to crawl through my window at 3 in the morning<\/a>. I have no idea how ALEX would describe M.. He was a big obnoxious jock-gone-to-seed goofball, a self-described “right-wing sexist pig”, which was stupid and not true, and also one of the funniest people I have ever met<\/i>, and pretty much insane. I also found him almost apocalyptically sexy and found it difficult to carry on a conversation with him in the first 3 months of knowing him. The perfect guy for me! <\/p>\n Now. There was a show that opened around this time (it is now known as “the show that will never die”) and it was called Hamlet! The Musical<\/i>. Notice the exclamation point. Very important. It was written by Jeff Richmond (now husband to Tina Fey – and actually, I believe they were dating at the time – M. ran with that crowd) and it was (is) hilarious<\/i>. It began in a workshop theatre space at Improv Olympic, then moved to a bigger venue on Belmont (selling to soldout shows the entire time) and finally made it to Navy Pier in a gigantic production before coming to New York for an off-Broadway run. It was massive. In its first incarnation, M. was cast as Claudius, the conniving uncle … and Alex was cast as the conniving Gertrude. At the time of the show (because, again, it’s all about me) M. and I weren’t seeing each other (we had a brief respite after this weird fight) … and he started dating someone else. No biggie. I was dating around like mad<\/a> myself. Sure, I went into a haiky phase<\/a> about the fight with M., but that’s to be expected. But the thought of big gruff obnoxious M. singing and dancing and doing a box step was more than I could bear. I had to see it. I ended up seeing it probably 5 times in its first incarnation. The audiences were RIOTOUS. Your stomach hurt at the end of the show. Ann Marie and I went one night (which will be known as “the night of the gourd” forevermore) … and we STILL laugh about it. The show almost lost something when it moved to Navy Pier into a huge space … because to see it in a 99-seat theatre at the 10 o’clock show (2 shows a night on weekends) on a crazy Friday night was something else. It was electric! And yes, seeing M. boxstep – in a cape and a CROWN<\/i> – being all evil – was an image that got me thru many a dark hour.<\/p>\n And there was Alex again. In a glittery mermaid dress. She had a vampy number called “Mama Is a Boy’s Best Friend”, lol. She is a force of nature onstage, seriously, the humor she finds in every moment<\/i> is almost RUTHLESS and CRUEL and you want to beg for mercy! Just STOP for one goddamn SECOND and let me REST. Her Gertrude was a Freudian nightmare. Poor Hamlet (played in the original incarnation by Jeff himself) kept trying to get through the “To be or not to be” speech, only to be interrupted by her knocks on the door.<\/p>\n I didn’t know Alex, at this point but – as should be obvious – she had been peripheral for a couple of years now. Our paths had not yet crossed. I had seen her onstage two or three times by this point, and I had no inkling we would one day become fast friends. Not yet.<\/p>\n Let’s get back to the night of the gourd. (IT WAS NOT A KUMQUAT.) I actually posted it all out in a Diary Friday <\/a> – and I just re-read that entry right now and found myself guffawing. I had started seeing Michael (kind of – after our first passionate love affair of all of 6 weeks) … and he was, you know, 20 years old … so things were not going well, even though I adored him (and still do<\/a>.) Michael blew me off and I was at my wit’s end, PISSED, so I called Ann Marie and we decided to go see Hamlet! The Musical<\/i>. I had not seen it yet. I was dying to see M. in action. I decided to send him something backstage – but flowers would not do … too stalker-ex-y … so I decided what WOULDN’T be weird, I decided what would be LESS weird – would be to buy a little wart-y gourd, write “Break a leg” on it – and send it backstage. Yes, I considered that to be NOT AS WEIRD AS FLOWERS.<\/p>\n The entire night became about the gourd (see link above for the full panoply of that night, which was epic). And yes, I did send the gourd backstage. All by itself, poor little thing. M. came out after and barged right over to me to say hello, and there was this hilarity between us, and two months later he had broken up with the girlfriend and he called me immediately. I had kicked Michael to the curb and so the timing was perfect. <\/p>\n But back to the gourd: I only learned this a bazillion years later when Alex and I were friends. She was there, in the cramped co-ed dressing room, when my gourd arrived. This is so insane!! I had put it in a paper bag, so M. would have had to open it. He pulled out the gourd (Alex remembers it as a kumquat, but she’s wrong) and said, in kind of a pleased tone, “Sheila sent me a gourd!” (I am HOWLING with laughter as I type this.)<\/p>\n Alex, who had all kinds of opinions and thoughts about M. (wonderful onstage, kind of annoying off), wondered who was the idiotic person who sent him a kumquat? “What kind of asinine person would send a kumquat backstage?” she thought. She had all of these opinions<\/i> about me, the uncouth bimbo who sent a kumquat to the obnoxious person sharing her dressing room.<\/p>\n Years pass.<\/p>\n I move from Chicago and go to New York. I live there for years. “The show that will never die” continues on. When it moves to Navy Pier, Mitchell is cast as Polonius. M. is no longer in it, but Alex, in all her Freudian spangled glory, remained. I fly back to Chicago for a vacation and go to see Mitchell in Hamlet! The Musical<\/i>. I almost feel like this show has now been in my life for a decade. <\/p>\n I wait for Mitchell in the palatial lobby afterwards, Lake Michigan gleaming out of the plate glass windows all around. And Mitchell walks out with Alex, who is in a sweatshirt, face scrubbed of makeup, and her arms are crossed over her chest. This is our first meeting. Mitchell introduces us. Alex un-crosses her arms, just long enough to shake my hand, and then crosses them again. I had all of these weird emotions about her, I guess how people feel about stars – it feels like you know<\/i> them, even though you do not – and so you have an intimate response to a person, even though it is totally unwarranted.<\/p>\n “Hi, nice to meet you. Great show.” Friendly, yes, but a little bit distant and cold. I wouldn’t realize until much much later that Alex is actually shy. You would never guess it from her persona onstage. And I’m shy, too. Although you would never guess it from afar, I seem so dominant. So we were two shy people, being awkward, and distant. It just makes me LAUGH to remember it. I want to intervene. I want to lean into the action, from the future, and say, “Okay. Alex? Uncross your arms. Sheila? Stop the hero worship. See this person standing right in front of you? You are going to be FAST FRIENDS … so cut. the. shit. NOW.”<\/p>\n But it wasn’t meant to be.<\/p>\n Mitchell and I went off on our way, and Alex went off on hers, and it would be years … years … before we would meet again.<\/p>\n October, 2001. The smoking aftermath. Nothing is normal, nothing is even approaching normal.<\/p>\n And in the middle of all of it, I have a dream.<\/p>\n I dream of a nuclear holocaust, which affected only New Jersey and Manhattan. You just knew: It’s over. I am going to die. But the bomb had already been dropped and the sky was a heavy crayon-black. You knew you could not escape, but everyone was trying to anyway.<\/p>\n Everyone was trying to get to the ocean, everyone in Manhattan and in Jersey were trying to get onto the New Jersey turnpike, towards the Atlantic. ut there were too many cars. It was like the roads were backed up from Cape May to lower Manhattan. You could not get out.<\/p>\n There was panic. People were running, and screaming, with their hair on fire, their clothes falling off. The bomb had already been dropped, that blackness in the sky was the fallout, and we were trapped – we could not get out.<\/p>\n I was alone in the dream. I was climbing down the cliffs from Jersey Heights down into Hoboken, looking at the blackened smoking skyline of Manhattan and seeing the roads below me, filled with cars, stalled cars as far as the eye could see.<\/p>\n And suddenly, climbing down the cliff with me was Alex, who was hugely pregnant in my dream. Maybe 8 or 9 months along.<\/p>\n She was not panicked. Not at all. She knew what to do, she took me in hand, she knew a way out. <\/p>\n “We’re gonna get to the ocean,” she said, as she climbed down the cliff, huge belly in front of her, moving gracefully and certainly. “I know the way.”<\/p>\n I do not know why Alex showed up in my dream during that terrible time, I do not know why I would dream about her when I had had so little contact with her up until that point … but for some reason, in my mind, and perhaps it was because of how caring and wonderful she had been to my friend Mitchell, she would be that person.<\/em> That person who would know the way out of the nuclear fallout. Carrying new life with her.<\/p>\n I had not seen Alex since that moment in the lobby at Navy Pier, when we said hello to each other in distant guarded manners. Why on earth would she appear as a savior in my dream? I can’t explain it. I know that I sensed something in her from the beginning. I don’t want to make too big a thing out of it, because it ruins the special-ness of it but when I think of her, as a person, and who she eventually would be to me, I realize: Of course. Of course she would know the way. And of course, I had sensed it from moment one, when I saw her in that white pant suit as the emcee of The Public<\/i>. It was there then. I knew it.<\/p>\n It is still odd to me that Alex would appear in my dream, while the smoke still rose from lower Manhattan in real life… but I choose not to question such things.<\/p>\n It would still be 3 more years before we actually spoke.<\/p>\n Unbeknownst to one another, we both start blogs. Mitchell, however, is the key here. He is the connection. He had, meanwhile, become dear friends with Alex back in Chicago, and she started up her Live Journal and I started up my blog and Mitchell read both and somehow he mentioned to Alex one day something about “my friend Sheila’s blog”. Alex secretly began to read my site. She knew nothing about me, except that Mitchell loved me (and that’s pretty much all I need to know about anyone!) It would not be until many years later that she and I would put our timeline together – who saw whom first, first impressions, paths almost crossed, etc. And it was Mitchell (the gossip!!) who told me, “Alex loves your blog, you know.” What?? Alexandra Billings?? From Hamlet The musical? She reads me? What the hell??? This was in 2004. Mitchell has a way, too, of bringing people together. He loves to introduce people from 2 different sections of his life, and watch them hit it off. He is the personification of generosity. Some people are stingy with their friends or they want to HOARD their friendships to themselves. Mitchell is the opposite. If Alex and I hit it off to such a degree that I end up traveling to Vegas with her to see Liza Minelli, Mitchell is not jealous. Or, he’s jealous that we’re going to see Liza – but he’s not jealous that Alex and I hit it off. On the contrary. He basically jumps up and down in joy when something like that happens. <\/p>\n I hear that Alex reads my blog. I freak out. Privately. Mitchell tells me about Alex’s blog<\/a>. I begin to read it obsessively. Neither of us comment on each other’s blogs yet.<\/p>\n We are stalking each other. I know she reads me, she knows I read her, but neither of us break the silence yet. It’s hysterical, in retrospect. I mean, we ended up storming Xenu’s castle together in LA and here we are being shy and awkward??<\/p>\n Alex finally emails me. And basically declares her undying love.<\/p>\n I email her back. And declare my undying love.<\/p>\n Huge breakthrough: we begin to comment on each other’s sites. It’s like our intensity for one another can now be admitted, and is out in the open. I am passionate<\/i> about Alex and she is passionate<\/i> about me. I haven’t even met her! (Well, not really.) I haven’t even mentioned the gourd yet! But it’s like we know all we need to know about the other. We are hooked. That’s it. We’re friends. We haven’t even spoken on the phone yet.<\/p>\n In June of 2004, Alex is going to play Bella, in Victory Garden’s production of Ulysses<\/i>. As they begin rehearsal, Alex is like, “What the hell is going on with James Joyce.” Mitchell, by this point, lives with Chrisanne and Alex. Mitchell says to her, “You know, Sheila knows a lot about Joyce – you should call her.” Now let’s remember. Alex is shy. So am I. Neither of us barge into relationships. We are cautious. Our friendships are particular and deep. We choose well! So Alex emails me, wondering if I could de-brief her on Joyce. I say of course! So we set up a date.<\/p>\n I am strangely nervous.<\/p>\n I am about to talk to Alex for the first time!! I feel like I’ve known her for over a decade.<\/p>\n I call her. She picks up. There she is. There is her voice. We are both so nervous and so pumped to finally be speaking that all we can do is say stuff like, “What. the HELL. is happening …” or “What. THE FUCK. is going on???” We go back and forth like that for about 15 minutes. We already love each other.<\/p>\n And then she quizzes me relentlessly about Joyce. I answer her questions for over an hour. We go through the script, I have my copy of Ulysses<\/i> with me, she asks questions, I do my best to explain, we babble about James Joyce forever. In particular, we talk about the Night Town episode, since that’s her scene. The opportunity to talk about Joyce like a maniac (and NOT have people roll their eyes) was really special for me.<\/p>\n I still wish I could have seen her do that part. Damn!!<\/p>\n In October of 2004, my friend Kate marries Tim. I am asked to be in the wedding, and I feel very privileged about it. It is such a joyous occasion. Kate is one of my best friends, and Tim is a prince among men. I will be in Chicago for a week, since I’m wedding-party material … and I am going to stay with Alex, Chrisanne and Mitchell. Now. It is Alex and Chrisanne’s condo. Mitchell lives in the guest bedroom. Alex and Chrisanne are true homebodies … I think if they COULD get away with never ever leaving the house (and still somehow managing to live their dreams?) they would. So to invite someone in – a stranger – even though beloved by Mitchell – and now Alex and I know each other through our blogs … I know it’s a big deal. I know it’s not how they normally behave. And so I feel honored to be invited in. I am going to be the best guest ever.<\/p>\n I will never forget my moment of arrival. Ever. I’m probably embarrassing Alex with all of this, but she can take it. I fly in to O’Hare. For some reason, that month in 2004, I am as broke as I have ever been. I had already bought the ticket and spent literally my last 100 bucks on the bridesmaid dress which I bought at Filene’s Basement. I was concerned that it made me look like Bea Arthur at a Tony Awards ceremony in 1987 but I was assured that it did not. But I was scarily broke. Why? I had a job, I don’t know. I just remember being really afraid of being on vacation and having ZERO money. Of course, once I was therem, all I did was sit on the couch with Alex and Mitchell and Chrisanne and Eric (also staying with them) and watch Joan Crawford movies, and eat the sumptuous gourmet dinners Chrisanne cooked for us. I spent no money. It was the best vacation I had ever had.<\/p>\n But that’s a side note. Let me get back to the moment of arrival.<\/p>\n Now, because I’m a bit more financially solvent, I usually take cabs, especially if I am traveling. But in October of 2004, I couldn’t. So I hauled ass, with my huge suitcases and duffel bags, to Chrisanne and Alex’s, via the El and then the bus. Insane. I struggle down the sidewalk, I find their condo complex. I ring the buzzer. I am beside myself. Mitchell comes down to get me, and help me with my bags. We talk a mile a minute as we galumph up the stairs. I walk into the apartment, and Alex is standing there in baggy sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a scrunchy on the top of her head and we stare at each other for a long weird moment (are we going to just cross our arms at each other? And be polite and distant?) and then suddenly we find ourselves embracing and jumping up and down, screaming and laughing.<\/p>\n Within 15 minutes we were watching Now Voyager<\/i>.<\/p>\n That week cemented our friendship forever. We sat out on the porch and talked until 4 o’clock in the morning. We laughed so loudly that neighbors complained. We talked and talked and talked about movies and life and Liza (I did my imitation of Liza for her on that porch, for the first time). Eric was there, Mitchell was there, Chrisanne was there, but when they went to bed, or were NOT there, Alex and I were and we could not stop talking<\/i>.<\/p>\n A couple highlights:<\/p>\n — Alex and I, for some reason, told Eric the entire story of the American Revolution, tag-team style. I have no idea how it happened, but it was absolutely brilliant. We should have a television show on the History Channel. It would be epic.<\/p>\n — We discovered our shared obsession for all things Xenu. We went nuts, and we have never returned. At one point we had the following exchange. We were discussing the moment when Mr. Tom Crooze was squirted with a water gun on the red carpet. We had differing opinions about it. I thought he had handled himself well. Alex bulldozed over me with her own analysis. And here is what happened (and it cannot be explained – I could never explain why this was so funny, but here goes): We laughed for (I am not kidding) 45 minutes. At one point, Alex began to crawl away from me, like a scene in Sybil<\/i>, on her hands and knees, trying to get away from me. This was when the neighbors complained. We were literally HOWLING. I cannot explain why the response “Xe-NU” was that funny -but it fucking was, and it took us days to recover. Days.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, I got to know Chrisanne. She was someone I had gotten glimpses of from Alex’s blog and so I had a little bit of celebrity worship with her, too. I just wanted her to like me. And approve. And I didn’t want to intrude or be a bad guest. All of that.<\/p>\n Chrisanne was not there when I first arrived but when she did come back, she was a little bit late, because she had stopped off at a second hand bookstore and couldn’t stop herself from buying a couple of books about John and Abigail Adams.<\/p>\n Can you say kindred spirit? I know you can.<\/p>\n Chrisanne deserves her own post entirely but I will respect her privacy and not go there. Suffice it to say, she’s an amazing<\/i> person and being in the presence of the two of them together is quite extraordinary.<\/p>\n And so during that week, I raved about Joan Crawford with Alex, and I talked about people like Patrick Henry and John Jay with Chrisanne.<\/p>\n Frankly, I was in heaven.<\/p>\n No going back.<\/p>\n I’m friends with Alex for life now. That’s it.<\/p>\n Xe-NU.<\/p>\n We would go on to have multiple adventures – involving broken-down cars on freeways<\/a>, e-meters on Hollywood Boulevard<\/a>, driving across the desert to see Liza Minelli<\/a>, watching Alex teach her acting class<\/a>, meeting up with Emily<\/a> at the race track (a wonderful memory – I’m so glad we did that), watching Liza with a Z<\/em> with Mitchell and Alex<\/a> in an apartment on 73rd Street, getting a private tour of the Elron Hubman Life Exhibit in LA<\/a> (where we said stuff to our cult tour guide like, “So … is this the thing that John Travolta is into? Wow!!!Okay – go on!” or “So Elron Hubman was the youngest Eagle Scout in the history of Eagle Scouts? Wow!!!” An unforgettable day.), coming across a dead body moments after he was murdered<\/a> (Alex hissing at me, as I tiptoed along near the bloody body in my platform sandals, “Get the FUCK over here!!”) and then all of our conversations on the phone, they’re always marathons, hours long, and we have to set them up beforehand. I call her, and Alex always answers the phone like this, just like our first time, “What. the HELL.is going on.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Please realize. This is MY version. She may say something totally different. Although I’ll kill her if she leaves out the kumquat. I say it was a gourd. She insists it was a kumquat. We’ll leave it at that. It’s … Continue reading 3.<\/h3>\n
4. <\/h3>\n
\n“Thanks. Nice to meet you.”<\/p>\n5.<\/h3>\n
6. <\/h3>\n
7.<\/h3>\n
8.<\/h3>\n
\nMe: “But what was going on with him at that time —”
\nAlex: “It was manipulation AT ITS ZENITH!<\/i>
\nBrief pause.
\nMe: (correcting her) “Xe-NU.”<\/p>\n