To Write?

Today is one of those gorgeous New York days. Sixty two degrees, with a brisk wind that keeps it exciting, and with a sense of anticipation in the air. Part of that is the approach of Halloween, and the succession of holidays to follow, and part of it is just the sheer unquestionable beauty of this area.

Today's a day to head out to the Strand Bookstore and pick up a used copy of a writing manual that I hope will give me some ideas for a story to write during Nanowrimo (that's National Novel Writing Month for those who are uninitiated). In spite of my unfinished mystery novel from last year with twenty paltry but crucial pages left to complete, I am considering diving back in.  Maybe it will be easier if it's not a genre that requires such tight structure and a surprise ending where it seems like surprises are impossible, as everything has already been done.  And yet, with three days to launch I still don't have a solid idea to write.  While the idea of diving in and typing away Jack Kerouac style has its appeal, I can't imagine the efforts from that will be worth the dedication it will take. Part of my brain is saying that the trying is enough.

I really would like to take a leap in and balls to the wall plunk something out, really stick to my word count, and finish the challenge. So what if the result is no good?  That's not we're supposed to be thinking about at this early stage any way, if I recall. For now, I'm committed to walking around in the city, maybe see if there are any decent podcasts that are out there to assist with this project, and to picking up the aforementioned book.  Later today I'll continue with journalling ideas, bouncing them around in my head, and tonight I'll ask the universe to help me with my decision.

Answers tomorrow.

Magic Moments

In my past couple of years in New York I've gotten to stand next to, and even chat with some pretty lovely artists and entertainers. It always makes me shy and somewhat giddy which, for a six foot 2 inch guy is kind of ridiculous, but nonetheless true.

I have a small part in my friend Leslie Carrara Rudolph's cabaret What Just Happened?...

This might be me on the left, with a guest of the show, Lolly Lardpop, and Leslie Carrara Rudolph

and because of it I've gotten to meet Chita Rivera (the sensation of hearing that iconic voice up close in my ear is etched in my memory banks), as well as a couple of other really terrific people.



Meeting Luis from Sesame Street was akin to meeting Santa Claus in person. Leslie had to ask him for the photo, because I was too nervous to bother him.  There's just a very special relationship that people have with him, because he helped to guide us (albeit remotely) and tell us about how the world works, and with such a gentle and understanding demeanor. I can't imagine how many people must reach out to him every day, and he handled my nerves with aplomb.  And getting the opportunity to chat with sound man Fred Newman? Forget about it.  I had his ZOUNDS! record and book when I was a kid (yes, I said record. In fact it was this thin floppy little record that came with the book. I must have spent hours trying to do a dog bark like his without the best results) and I'd seen him on multiple television shows as a kid.  When he took over as the effects guy for Prairie Home Companion it was an obvious match made in Heaven. Both of these men just overflowed with generosity, and it was really heartwarming and encouraging to see. Fred talked about his years growing up and the influence that the story tellers in Georgia had on his life, leading him into sound effects and to New York where he became friends with Andy Warhol and Jim Henson. I felt really lucky t have been in the right place at the right time.

Most of all though, I'm grateful for my friendship with Leslie Carrara Rudolph herself, her unique magic, her massive amounts of support, open hearted nature, and her whimsy. One of my best pals i this world, and it's been a blessing to have had her as a companion on this journey and to be her friend on hers. And who else could truly appreciate the magic of finding Clam Strips for $1?

New York Comic Con 2017!!!

This weekend is New York Comic Con, and while I was only able to get a ticket for the first day, Thursday, which is considered by most to be a warm-up to the main event, I feel like I have gotten more than my fill.  My friend Leslie and I headed out at 10:30AM and The Javitz Center was pretty empty looking.  So far so good.  Leslie had said that Thursday was the least attended day, and that the panels were mostly being held in the NYC Library, so it should be pretty manageable. Luckily, I was not really interested in Panels, except for the panel that afternoon for LORE, the upcoming Amazon Prime show based on the eery historical podcast of the same name. The lines for these panels are notoriously long, and the real reason I had been excited about the Convention was for Artist's Alley, the area where all the comic book artists have their booths, take on commissions, and sell very reasonably priced prints of their work.

First pic of the day! (With Izma and Kuzco)

I was their scoping out a possible artist to commission for a drawing of Cathy, to use for further promotion. I already had one in mind, but wasn't certain if he would be available, and so I wanted to take a look at the other options.  I did see a couple that I was interested (one in particular did work that was reminiscent of the later season I Love Lucy title segments) but none was a perfect match to the character and her period. I did get to meet and see the work of some terrific artists like Jay Fosgitt (creator of Bodi Troll) and the brilliant artist of paper cut confections, Charles Thurston. This part of the con did not disappoint, and was truthfully enough for me.  Still...

My friend Leslie!

It was only about noon at this point, and leaving so early felt like a let-down, so we headed up to the INTENSELY crowded show room. There was a Funko booth, but good luck getting in to purchase anything.  They'd apparently had a lottery weeks prior to get a chance at getting in line, and there weren't any spots available anymore. So outside of paying someone in line to purchase something for you, good luck. And I had already spent my minimal budget, so... no huge loss. We wandered the show room for a while, looking at aisles and aisles of "stuff". Products, t-shirts, posters, toys... but relatively few comics. This all would have been fine, except for the fact that I am a gregarious and outgoing person who loves being around people, and yet...being around them does not energize me, and afterwards I quickly need some alone time. I am not sure if this is because I really AM an extroverted introvert, or if that is just an example of me being like the rest of America, desperately seeking a label for myself at the same time I claim to be beyond them. Anyway, there were people everywhere, apparently this was the turnout that had usually only been seen on Saturday, and while it was festive, it was also a bit draining.

We headed downstairs for some food, and were met by a temporary structure designed to look like a house from the 1800's.  It was a promotional event for the new Amazon Prime Show, LORE, based on a pre-existing podcast  (Quick sidebar- I've not mentioned it before, but it is a really atmospheric, creepy audio podcast of historically supernatural stories which have through time morphed into legend, for example, the sighting of a snake bodied-horse headed sea serpent, or a doll that seemed to move around the house of its own volition and seemed to be terrorizing the little boy who owned him).  What seemed like it would be a quick peek turned into a two hour wait, and while it was fun to enter the rooms and meet actors portraying people from the stories that would be featured in the upcoming show, it did feel like the emphasis was on promotion, and not on acquainting people with the show. Too be fair, the convention going public is the kind to be more interested in an immersive experience of the show rather than the historically accurate photos and relics I was hoping for, and I'm sure the panel went into a lot more detail about the content of the future show.

Each room had talked briefly about one of the stories to be focused on in the show, and had a photo-op.  Feeling a little bit like a living "sandwich board", I nonetheless dutifully show the photos to you.

The actors were pretty great, and admittedly, the upcoming premier on October 13th is very much in the forefront of my mind. The third room of the house looked very promising, as the episode about lycanthropy was the what had lured me into listening to the podcast in the first place.

Now, I have to say... the group I was with?  Really lovely people, but what with Leslie gripping my arm in terror and me being six foot tall and standing in the front, I was the guinea pig of each room, which is what had me being the first one to sit down for a portrait in the final room and giving this extremely unsuitable expression...

After leaving the Museum of Lore, we headed back to Artist's Alley so Leslie could say a quick goodbye to a couple of the artists she is friends with, and then we headed to Juniors for a much deserved meal.  

I have to say, as much as I enjoyed the experience, I'm definitely more suited to the smaller, cozier Flame Con from a month prior.  They were my people!!

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Digging Deeper

I first discovered Austin Kleon a few years ago, through Steal Like An Artist, his book of nuggets which provide strategies and tips to build a more creative life. I found it really helpful, and it helped me to focus my energies on my creative goals, releasing a bit of the grip I have on the baggage I carry around with me.

In reading his follow-book Show Your Work, which focuses on getting your message out to an audience, I stumbled upon a passage I thought I'd share. As someone who just finished putting together a show, and is worrying that maybe that's as good as it's going to get and I've mined my best material, I found it really encouraging. Hopefully you will too.

"The Comedian Louis C.K. worked on the same hour of material for 15 years, until he found out that his hero, George Carlin, threw out his material every year and started from scratch. C.K. was scared to try it, but once he did, it set him free. 'When you're done telling jokes about airplanes and dogs, and you throw those away, what do you have left? You can only dig deeper. You start talking about your feelings and who you are. And then you do those jokes and they're gone. You gotta dig deeper.' When you get rid of old material, you push yourself further and come up with something better. When you throw out old work, what you're really doing is making room for new work."

Cosplay is Art!

I consider myself pretty brave. It does, after all, take some chutzpah (L'Shana Tova, everyone!) to keep on writing whether anyone is reading or not, and to parade around in vintage ladies clothing... and yet, nothing can turn on the nerves for me, like the mere thought of "Cosplay".

Through Cosplay, you are crafting a costume all on your own, baring your soul and often your body, and proclaiming an admiration for another piece of pop culture/art.  More than that, you are stating that you share enough in common with what you admire to embody it before others.  It's art, pure and simple, and like all art it is expressive, freeing, and a joy to behold.

Here are some amazing cosplayers from my recent trip to FLAMECON, the LGBTQ Comic Convention...

 The above were my favorites from the con, and while I'll admit, there aren't many photos, I vow to get more on my trip to NY ComicCon on October 5th.

Pave Paradise...

Sunday began my first exploration of New York's LGBTQ history with the assistance of the previously mentioned Stepping Out. I have to say I really enjoyed the journey, and learned so much.  History, is in it's best sense collection of true stories, things of import that affected our present times, often in ways we couldn't have conceived of at the time. Sunday I walked a good portion of the East Village and earned about Emma Goldman, Frank O'Hara, and about Andy Warhol.  I visited the former location of the Lafayette Bathhouse, which operated in the early 1900's through the thirties, and which was at one point owned y the Gershwin family (mother and father to George and Ira).  I also stopped at Webster Hall, which ad been home to some lush and rather infamous drag balls back during the Roaring Twenties, and I learned about one of the most notorious gay brothels back in the 1890s, Columbus Hall. I wish I had masses of pictures to share, but, with as changing as the city is, most of these locations are paved over, were demolished and built anew, or are skeletons of their former glory (Webster Hall just recently was sold, and on August 5th ceased to be a night club in order to prepare for "demo, reno and transition to corporate ownership under Barclays/AEG/Bowery Presents", and while I thought it was protect, as an historical city landmark, that appears not to be the case).

Yes. I understand. New York is a beast.  Constantly changing, growing, transforming. I appreciate that. I also appreciate the importance of knowing and celebrating our story, the both story of the city and of our peoples, both straight and gay, in-between and beyond. Knowing these things happened, and imagining how things might have been, gave me some appreciation for how they might be right now, for the history that is being created as we speak.  Because, even though we may think the resent to be relatively stagnant, or that oppression keeps us fro changing and growing, we now because of history, that this is not so.  One need only to look to "prohibition" and remember how much drinking took place at a time when alcohol was illegal.

And even though most of the time on Sunday it felt like I was moving from geographical point to geographical point with very little to mark the pas that made the location famous, it did feel good to stand where those things happened, and to move from space to space, and realize how much life and how many dreams and hopes were packed into every block.

Stepping Out and Back to The Past

Today's planned visit to Flushing Meadows Park has been postponed, as the U.S. Open is just a few hundred feet away from the museum, which means that not only is one of the major reasons for the journey closed, but the park will be a madhouse for today's final match of the tournament.  Instead I'm going to take book I picked up online a while ago, and be a tourist in my own city, exploring some of the historic LGBT spots in the East Village.  How do I plan to do that you may ask?  Why, with Stepping Out: Nine Walks Through New York City's Gay and Lesbian Past, of course. I found this on the bookshelf of someone I had a couple of dates with, and ended up purchasing it. I have barely opened the book in the six months I've had it, but often think about using it to walk the city, and today is the day to put it to good use!

I will report back, but in the meantime, I leave you with this little film about the 1939 World's Fair, which also took place at Flushing Meados Park, and which has the the catchy title The Middleton Family At the New York World's Fair. Yes, it is hopelessly cornball, very dated in its mindset, and blatant in its motives, but I also find it rather charming at moments. And if that Jim Treadwell isn't a dream walking, I don't know what is!

Recommended: Make Art Make Money

Art fuels more art. The simple act of getting my ass down to the seat tends to do more for my creativity than nearly anything.  And yet, sometimes just moving those few feet to the desk or the coffee shop can seem easier to put off for just "a few minutes".  So I always try to supplement my off times, my idle moments, with books about art, or artists, and ways to cope with the challenges of creativity.  

The book I am loving right now is Make Art Make Money: Lessons From Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career by Elizabeth Hyde Stevens.  

It explores the successful ways that Jim Henson was able marry art and commerce, much of which involved the "art as gift" philosophy.  The basic idea behind it is that art, by its very nature is a gift.  And yet, those creating that gift need to be able to support themselves in order to continue creating.  It's a basic truth, that for the creator, most of the financial gains from that art go right back into making more. And more often than not, the one who creates will put more effort, more time, and more money into it than is "wise" in a business sense of the word. Henson both epitomizes this, and made peace with this. He was able to keep the message of his work pure even though he was commodifying and selling likenesses of his characters.  The work never became about making money. The money was always to make more and better art.  Without The Muppet Show you could never have had The Muppet Movie, without which you could never have had The Dark Crystal, without which you could never have had The Story Teller, and so on.  This is true not just on a financial level, one funding the next, but on a creative level.  The artistic achievements and new understandings reached in one project made the next one possible.

One of the passages that I found particularly inspiring discusses Henson's 1972 television special The Muppet Musicians of Bremen, in which four mistreated animals escape their miserable masters to seek a new life. Hyde Stevens uses this work to parallel the creative struggles Henson was going through.

     Chased from his home, Leroy [the donkey] finds himself alone in the world, pulling junk that                

     "ain't worth nothin". He doesn't seem very lucky at all. But he can be. 

     Enter the frog. 

     Leroy laments his condition to Kermit, who happens to be sitting on a fence. "I'm on the road

     to nowhere," he says. "I gave ol' Mordecai eighteen years of hard work, and what do I have to 

     show for it?"

     Kermit points at the wagon.

     "It's mighty hard pullin'." The wagon, he thinks, is nothing but a burden.

     Kermit tells him he also has a tuba.

     "You mean this big kinda twisty funnel thing? I don't even know what it's fer!"

Kermit shows the donkey how to change his perception of his lot in life, that the things he views as a burden can actually be a salvation. The same can be said for every artist. We spend out lives trying to hide our injuries and imperfections and show only what we have decided is worthy. Doing this is like "a dancer, dancing with one hand behind her back" as my former acting teacher used to say.  Sharing the wounds artfully, allows intimacy between artist and viewer, and opens up a whole new pathway to explore, one that's likely to be very fertile territory because it is at the heart of what we are most passionate about.

Hyde Stevens continues:

     Henson's shoestring budget resulted in Kermit being fashioned out of the fabric from his

     mother's old coat, and that intern spawned the look of a thousand Muppets. His work in

     commercials [something Henson had very ambivalent feelings about] led both to a healthy

     workshop budget and eventually to Sesame Street, who's producers were trying to use the power    

     of commercials to teach. It couldn't be predicted from the outset, but each part led to the next part,  

     and eventually it added up to staggering success when Henson started to see the shape it might

     take.

     Henson may not have chosen his career up until 1958, but he was able to turn burdens into

     strengths. "Take what you got and fly with it," Henson said. Most of us simple don't know what 

     we've got.

Make Art Make Money: Lessons From Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career began as a series of essays published in , and these were later expanded to become a full exploration of Henson's work, and lessons from that way of working that we can use today.  It's available from Amazon.com, and is a steal at $9.19

         

     

                        

Course Correction

Have I failed the challenge?  That quickly?  Watch me backpedal and say that I only said I would do 31 posts in the next days until September was over, and so I haven't exactly failed, and can get back on course with a quick correction. Do you buy that?  Can we continue? Good.

I'v been dog sitting for the past week for a couple of dear friends of mine, and their apartment is full of whimsy and wonder.  I'd intended for it to be a place to really bucks down and create, and yet, I encountered all of the same demons here that I would have encountered at home.  The good thing is that I HAVE been more creative here than I think I would have at my own apartment, just not as creative as I imagined, and if we can assume there is always going to be, at least, a small gap between the imagined ideal and the imperfect reality, than I can be happy about what I achieved.  What was that, you ask?   The beginning of a painting (my first since seventh grade) a couple of blog posts, and some notes on a future Cathy Dresden show.

I've also been thinking about a piece of fiction, something I've had percolating for a while and that I may want to work on during Nanowrimo. I have yet to finish the piece I started last year, and interestingly enough i am right down to the finish line folks. The problem is it's a mystery, and the ending I had been plotting seems a little less than spectacular, and the part of me that had said to myself "mysteries are never really about the 'dun' in 'whodunnit', but the who".  I'd convinced myself it was enough to have a great idea, fun characters, and a couple of pre-planned twists. But now I am doubting those twists.  And while it has yet to be a year since I started the project, and in that time I have managed to write nearly 100,000 words, the little whisperings of doubt tend to find their way to my ears no matter what. Hopefully though, it has been long enough since I wrote last that I have given myself a little space from the attachment of perfection, and I can realize the truth that done and imperfect is better that potentially perfect and never finished.

The World's Fair of 1964-65, Pt. 1

I've been hearing about Flushing Meadows-Corona Park ever since I moved to Astoria, and while I'd always intended to visit it, I have yet to do so. Part of the reason being the distance. Believe it or not, it is 45 minutes by train, and the "not knowing" what was out there that might make the trip worthwhile, was enough to hinder me.  But after doing some research this afternoon, I have a much greater understanding of what those things are, and I'm hoping to make the trip next weekend.

Flushing Meadows-Corona Park was the site of two World's Fairs, and is the current home of the Queens Museum.  But, while I had known that the unisphere (that giant globe that is probably the most recognizable monument from the fair) still existed, I didn't know what else was still remaining.  It turns out?  A lot.  Now, "a lot" is relative.  Fair sites and most buildings on them are never intended to be permanent, so the fact that a handful of  icons still remain is pretty great.  The previously mentioned Unisphere is there...

The Unisphere as pictured in August of 1964

as are a number of statues, a carousel, a theatre, the building which now houses the Queens Museum (that site was created for the 1939 fair) and The New York Pavilion is still there as well.  

That building has a pretty fascinating history. It was designed by the famed architect Phillip Johnson, made out of steel and concrete, and it was determined after the fair was over that it should remain.  And yet, no one was ever able to decide what to do with it, and so this Atomic Age vision of the future that featured a kaleidoscopic ceiling, a floor that depicted a giant map of New York, and two observation towers that loomed above,  was left to deteriorate.

It's sad to think about something that symbolized hope and promise for the future has been corroding and decaying, with very little use.  The building poses quite a challenge, as tearing it down would be extremely expensive, as would finding a new use for it and restoring it to current safety standards and making it shine again.  Now that I've learned about it from one of my favorite podcasts The Bowery Boys.  Their websitelhas a tremendous amount of photos and information, and you can listen to their podcast, the second half of which was recorded in Queens Theater in the park, here. A large portion of the show was devoted to interviewing Matthew Silva, a devoted fan of the site who co-founded People For The Pavillon alongside Salmaan Khan and Christian Doran. Because of this organization, and others who love this unique site, there is hope that it may be repurposed, much as was done for the Highline, which was once considered an eyesore, and is now one of the city;s prime tourist spots.  Matthew also made a documentary about the Pavillon, called Modern Ruin, and while I'm not certain where it can be seen in its entirety, you CAN view the trailer.

I also found this really well crafted short film on youtube which shows comparison footage from the fairgrounds then and now, and touches a bit on the Disney contributions to the fair that year, which included The Carousel of Progress, Great Moments With Mister Lincoln, and the attraction that was initially sponsored by Pepsi as a tribute to UNICEF, It's A Small World. 

Rest assured that I will post photos from what I discover at the park next week...

The Jim Henson Exhibit At MOMI

We all have artists of our "age". People who were working at the right time to find our eyes, to meet our minds and shape us.  For me, Jim Henson came at that time.  Now, admittedly, it's a wide swath of time.  He began working in the fifties and continued into the very late eighties, and it's complicated by the fact that while he worked in a medium that is considered "kid's stuff", he never considered himself an artist for children alone, so his work was AND wasn't meant for me.  And yet, I saw Sesame Street in its earlier years, when it was a huge success, but not yet the monument it would become.  I saw The Muppet Show when it first aired, and my family was in line with a lot of other family members on the opening weekend of The Muppet Movie (we barely made it in as the line wrapped around the theatre).  I watched Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas whenever I could catch it on HBO, and The Dark Crystal several times at the theaters.  There was a theatre called the Village IV that played it, and they also had someone come and paint their windows with scenes of some of the more fantastical films.  I watched all the Henson films, made sure I was home to watch The Story Teller and The Jim Henson Hour.  He is, to encapsulate it, the artist for my generation.  His was a message of unification, of love, and of changing the world for the better one person at a time.  He made fun of people, yes, of our foibles and follies, but always from the perspective of one who experienced those follies and foibles first hand.

It's a message, and an aesthetic, and a sensibility (this nostalgic, vaudevillian sentimentality mixed with an earnest need to comfort and enlist the dreamers of the world in his mission) that had a strong impact on me.  And yet, I had never seen an exhibition of his before.  I had been in Austin and missed the Sesame Street exhibit at the Lincoln Center, missed the first exhibit that came through the MOMI, and not been to Atlanta to the permanent exhibit. So I was really looking forward to the new permanent exhibit at the Museum Of the Moving Image, which was years in its arrival.  But then when it came? I didn't rush there. I didn't want to be annoyed with people, irritated by them and their inane comments about the work, annoyed by the crowds.  It would have felt opposed to the intent of the exhibit, and poisoned my first glimpse. It was a sacred experience, the first visit, and had to be well timed, ad well planned.  I waited more than a month, and then, last Sunday as the doors opened for the day, I headed in.  

I don't want to spoil the experience with mountains of pictures, as people coming to the museum should be able to feel they are taking a journey that no one  else has, but I do want to tease it, and share.  

I would recommend that anyone coming read about Jim Henson before you arrive, because this collection does a wonderful job of cementing the story of his life and work, and of highlighting the experiences of the companions and fellow visionaries that joined him on his path. You'll see the harness that Carrol Spinney wore to perform Big Bird, you'll see Fran Brill's "elevator" boots that raised her up to an equivalent height of the men she performed with, and you'll see script revisions by Jerry Juhl, muppets performed by Richard Hunt, Jerry Nelson, Dave Goelz and Frank Oz, designed and built by Bonnie Erickson, and by Don Sahlin.  You'll see renderings by Brian Froud, and you'll get glimpses of the impact Jane Henson had on Henson's life and art (although her impact is so ingrained and ethereal, its difficult to physicalize). Speaking of Jane, thinking back on the exhibit she is a very quiet but constant presence, especially in the early work represented. As the exhibit grows, I would love to see temporary exhibits share the space, and a closer examination of Jane Henson and her work and influence is well-deserved.

 In a way, visiting the Henson Exhibit was like visiting New York City for the first time.  I saw a world I had loved as long as I can remember, that I had always read about, watched, that had permeated my psyche, and yet, prior to seeing the physicality of it, it didn't feel truly "real" to me.  Graspable.  This exhibit allows people to get up close and see that these people and animals existed in more than two dimensions, and at the center of their artistic mission and purpose was a creator, a performer, a dreamer, a business man and a leader.  Someone who may not have been comfortable in all of the roles, but who stepped into them to help make his world a reality, one that we could all share.

Live Like Dragons

I snapped this picture three years ago, as I was so taken with the words, found scrawled on the door of a parking lot in Downtown Austin.  The site used to connect with The Dobie Mall and Movie Theatre, a former art house treasure, which is now closed. Currently, it is the easiest way to park and walk to the Harry Ransom Center.  I was returning from a long visit that day, as I'd recently discovered that you could visit and call up items from the archives and had immersed myself in some original drafts of L. Frank Baum's The Tin Woodsman of Oz, and The Magic Of Oz.


On my way back to the car I saw this quote, and was inspired.  I do not know where it is from, and a google search hasn't been very helpful.  Of course at the time, I didn't look closely enough through my lens to realize how blurry the photo was, so I unfortunately have nothing clearer, and cannot read the smudge of pink in the corner that may be a persons name.  If anyone lives near the Dobie on the U.T. campus and wants to send me a better photo, I would be forever grateful.  Or if anyone knows more about the stanza?

And maybe it's better not to know where its source. If it turns out to be an incredibly famous piece of literature, then it's context and meaning may change, destroying what I was touched by in the first moments.  As long as the source remains a mystery, the quote is equally mysterious, and I can endow it with the provenance I want it to have in order to raise it's potency to me.

I have thought about the quote a lot, wondered about its meaning. After reexamination it seems a lot more seditious than what I'd initially imagined.  It doesn't just say be free, ,it says take your freedom even if it means robbing others, and I while I'd always figured that the Kings had probably been tyrants and enslavers and deserved whatever was coming to them, did the angels deserve the same treatment?.  And is it worth their unwilling sacrifice so that we may thrive? I guess, I have to say my answer is a qualified "yes", at lest initially, or I wouldn't have felt that unexpected stomach flutter the first time I read it, that little ping like riding an elevator down, or speeding down hilly roads.  But that was when the angels remained metaphorical.  In reality? I want to fly, to soar, like everyone else.  But I'd like to think its possible to to do grow my own wings, and to defy my Kings without robbing the innocent. Or, barring that, to borrow the wings and to fly with the angel's assistance and approval.  Otherwise, I don't know that I could really enjoy the flight.

Check, Please!

Yesterday I attended my first ever "con".  Aside from my trip to the "Judy Garland Festival" in Minnesota years ago, I had never dipped my toes into fan conventions, and from the moment I stepped into FLAMECON, which features art and comics by LGBTQ artists, or featuring LGBTQ content, I had a case of "perma-grin". More on the full experience of the convention later, but I wanted to quickly share a new discovery from the trip... "Check, Please".

Promotional Art from Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

Check, Please! is the story of Eric "Bitty" Bittle, a hockey loving, pie baking freshman in college, new to the school's hockey team. It's an episodic comic available free online here, and while there are now printed editions, they are somewhat hard to come by as of this moment.  You can purchase them at conventions. For those of you in Austin, the author, a really charming woman by the name Ngozi Ukazu will be there selling volumes 1 and 2, as well as other merchandise at Staple! Independent Media Expo on September 9th and 10th (Tickets available at the door). Believe me, in hindsight I would have bought both volumes then and there.  As it is, I will have to make due with volume one until New York Comic-con On October 5th.  

I see a really bright future for this work, as it is beautifully produced, expertly drawn, and charming as all get-out.  It's heartwarming and poignant, and Eric "Bitty" Bittle (the hockey loving, pie baking former figure skater at the center of the story) is magnetic and lovable.  Those of you with immense amounts of patience can wait for the first two volumes to be in stores in the Fall of 2018, but I encourage everyone to head to the tumblr page and get to reading.

I'm Gonna Live...

I'm trying to be pretty selective about which clips I post from the new show, in order to maintain many of the surprises and keep the new numbers fresh for the audience members. However, I don't think it spoils too much to show this clip from the July 12th show at The Metropolitan Room.  It's a personal favorite of mine.

Catching Up

It's admittedly been a long time between blog posts.  I knew this.  I was well aware that I had been neglecting what had been a place for introspection, observation, and some good old fashioned blabbering. I did not realize it had been four months.  And I had been missing it, had been wanting to creep back in, quietly, as if I'd never left.  But as life got busier, this little spot was visited less and less.  And I have to admit, it sometimes feels like I am writing for an audience of two, but with none of the true freedom that comes from a small audience, because if you say the wrong thing, you can bet it will somehow get out there, and what had seemed witty or sharp in the moment of writing, would crystallize into its shameful true form, locked in for whatever eternity the web can hold.

Since I posted last, I have created my cabaret show Cathy Dresden: An Old Fashioned Girl, which debuted at The Metropolitan Room in July, and which I am now in the midst of finding a second date for.  The show was, by all accounts, pretty successful, and the audiences did pack the Metropolitan, which was a welcome relief.

There are so many decisions to make when you are creating something like this, choosing a date, a director, a costume designer or at least someone to assist with alterations, an accompanist, coming up with a concept, choosing the songs, structuring the evening, writing transitional material/patter and monologues as well as comedic bits and jokes. And so much more. I have always had a bit of a hard time making decisions, tending to agonize over each one before finally pushing the metaphorical "go" button, and now, here I am doing it again. Luckily, the first time, everything came together, as it always seems to.  I had an immense amount of support, a terrific producer in Joseph Macchia, an amazing director, Daniel Adams, and an indispensable accompanist/banterer/singer/accordian player in the form of Michael Hicks.

(L-R) Michael Hicks, Cathy, Daniel Adams

I will admit, I worked like a dog on the show for over three months. Every night after work I came home and sat in front of my computer.  But for the first time I understood what people said when they write that if you love what you are doing, it doesn't feel like work.  Te passion seemed to override all the critical voices for just long enough to get the job done.  And then once I (through the combination of fate and of listening to my "gut") chose the right director, he aided in keeping those persistent demons at bay so that we could do the work together, aided by Michael.  I cannot overstate the importance, if you ever decide to go on this journey, of choosing the right companions.  Without them, I don't know if I could have done it.

And now, not wanting to lose the momentum, and let Cathy go back into the trunk, I'm bringing her back.  So, if you were one of those unable to make it to the first show, stay tuned...

Michael and Cathy, July 12th at The Metropolitan Room

Subway Ride

Sometimes you have to ride the subway from Brooklyn into The Flatiron District during rush hour in full drag makeup.  The thing about New York?  No one made a big deal about it.  (Unless they were secretly taking photos and turning me into an anti-Liberal meme and I didn't know it).

The Refreshing Taste of Lion Spit

Memories are unfaithful, undependable.  After years and years of thinking something was one way, you can realize that at one point your idea of the actual incident had morphed and you'd been telling a story based on that truth, but at some point, the concrete memory became about the story itself, cemented in your mind by constant re-telling.  This is one of the major problems with the reliability of memoirs, and biographies. People and their memories, though often well-intentioned, are not trustworthy.

And yet, I have a very concrete memory of being a child, maybe three, in the upper level apartment with my single mom, as dusk falls, the window open, and I can hear a lion's roar. And that lion, was able to help me get to sleep by imagining him, and feeling a kind of kinship with him. Mind you, my three year old self, I am perfectly aware, would not have thought about it quite that way, or said it that way.  But it's a memory that has continued to bring me comfort, that yes- things may get daunting, and lives may not be what we want them to be, but there are other creatures out there, outside of ourselves and very different from ourselves, sharing life with us. The thing is, it's a very cinematic memory, and one I easily could have concocted.  Don't lions live in zoos?  How far would a lion's roar carry? Are there residences close enough to zoos in order for people to hear the animals at night as they stir? I've puzzled over this occasionally, and it's one of those things that I think, "Oh I should ask Mom about that at some point," but then it is quickly forgotten.

But then a couple of weeks ago I was walking to the subway from a rehearsal for a then upcoming gig, when I saw this large truck, the bed of which had a large display of antiques including, a lion drinking fountain.  One very similar to the one I had drunk from at the zoo.  It brought back all of these- feelings, feelings of being small enough that the whole world seemed giant around me, and that there were some really cool things made just for people like me in order to experience what it would be like to put my head in the mouth of a lion. I'd never expected to see anything like it again, but there it was. The friend I was with indulged me when I asked to stop and take a few pictures.  They don't do it justice, can't capture the spontenaiety of the moment, or the sheer joy I felt at being brought face to face with this piece of my childhood.

In a world where I am a wealthy man, I will own one of these fountains and have it, along with other items of whimsy and wonder. Think of Carrie Fisher's home as seen in the recent documentary "Bright Lights" (what, you haven't seen it? How can we be friends?) And you will have a proximity of my fantasy. But regardless, at this moment I couldn't afford or house, or transport this amazing piece, so I let it go at photos. 

Later I called my mom to ask her about the fountain, and also about the memory of the lion roaring (which is tied to this fountain) and she didn't remember the fountain, why would she? But she could confirm that we had lived near Bever Park at one point, and there may have been lions there. Couple that with the synchronicitous event that my Uncle who was visiting, had that day seen a lion water fountain just like the one I was describing. 

Thanks to a Write to the Point, a personal blog of an Iowa resident, I was able to confirm that yes! There had been a lion at Bever park years ago, and a number of other animals, though from what I can tell of it, it seems like the park not so much a zoo, as a park that happened to have a number of animal exhibits. (If anyone reading this has more information about the history of Bever Park, I'd love to hear it). And it seems she shared the memory of listening through her open window to the sound of the lion's roar. Confirmation! That memory can now go into my long awaited, totally truthful memoir...

As for the lion drinking fountain? I was able to find that these were hardly unique to one zoo, but are still around (though updated for health standards) and can be found at a lot of parks sponsored by Lions Clubs across the US. The design has changed a bit, and doesn't really suit my taste...

(photo from the Dysart Reporter)

But it is a comfort to see this design is still bringing joy mixed with terror to children everywhere. As for whether or not this design once existed at Bever Park? It's hard to say. I distinctly remember this fountain being at a zoo, one that we visited occasionally and that felt like a special trip. I also remember wolves, (my grandmother commented on the smell) and lots of concrete. There don't seem to be any other zoos in Cedar Rapids, and the only other one it might be that is still open would be in Des Moines, a healthy trek for us to take. So that aspect of the story remains a mystery and I'm ok with that for the moment, as that seems in keeping with the hazy nature of memory itself.