I VOTED!

And, my goodness, was it awesome. I voted absentee in 2004, which was not anywhere near as exciting as going into that booth today and pulling that big red lever and flicking those weird switches. I remember watching my parents do it when they voted in the basement of Faith Church on Eastern Ave, growing up...and let me tell you, I was so excited to do it for myself today. The whole thing took a little over an hour, and everyone in the polling place (public school lunchroom) was happy and cheerful, chatting, offering each other papers and stuff. I'll make the assumption that the vast majority of people in that room were voting for Obama-- considering where I live and the age group that was in there when I was there, I think that's a relatively safe assumption to make. I don't know if that had something to do with the general tenor of the room, or not. Whatever the case, it was so nice.

Then I trudged deep into the heart of Greenpoint to the only Starbucks anywhere around here, so I could get my free coffee. Free stuff makes me impervious to the restraints of practicality. We'll see if I actually take a trip into Manhattan JUST to get free ice cream. I probably will. Voting AND free ice cream. Come on!

I am so excited and nervous, and I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm holding my breath. I am really surprised that I am feeling so emotional about this--of course I want Obama to win, but I didn't think it would feel so personal. I'm trying to stay calm.

Anyway-- vote if you haven't yet, and do whatever weird superstitious good luck things you feel comfortable doing. Lord knows I'll be crossing my finger, rubbing lucky pennies, doing vageuly OCD behaviors, and holding my breath.

Gobama, go!

The best part of my Halloween (besides seeing Dave Rosenblatt):

(I'm walking up the Bowery to meet my friends and I see a guy rouding the corner onto Fifth Street. He's wearing a blue shirt, jeans, has a short brown wig, and is carrying this tank with a tube attached to it. The halloween spirit takes me over and I yell after him:)

Me: HEY! I love your costume!
Guy: Oh yeah?
Me: Aren't you Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet? Lynch-Lynch! (I point to myself.)
Guy: No, but I so could be. I'm--
Me: Oh my god, you're Anton Chigur. Which is awesome because that's who I was going to be before I decided to be the Log Lady.
Guy: Which is awesome because I just finished watching Twin Peaks!

(He pretends to kill me with his compressed air machine, we go on our respective merry ways.)



I also want to note that the overwhelming majority of people who recognized me last night were gay men.

Good for Halloween.

I read a thing on Boing Boing about two guys who built a 'haunted' room-- a room that included certain environmental factors that have been reported to exist in places where hauntings have also been occurred-- things like electromagnetic fields and infrasound (whatever that is).  I really liked this conclusion:

Overall, despite the results, Chris French and his team feel the experiment was worthwhile. Given that most participants did report unusual sensations they felt that "we can indeed claim some success in building a haunted room." Just the haunting didn't come from EMF or infrasound, but instead from suggestion and a quiet, round, dimly lit and featureless white room which "may have constituted a form of mild perceptual deprivation"). 

DON'T COUGH ON ME, YOU BITCH!

The other day, I was walking up Second Avenue after work. As I crossed St. Mark's, I got a tickle in my throat and coughed a little bit. I covered my mouth. Not that that's the point. An old lady in front of me, as I coughed, turned around and yelled at me, really loudly: 'DON'T COUGH ON ME, YOU BITCH!' I was so shocked that I started laughing and said, hand still over mouth, 'I didn't--' But she didn't want to hear it, and responded by yelling 'YOU BITCH, GET AWAY FROM ME.' The most awesome response from me would have been to cough directly in her haggy face (yeah, I'm a bitch, what about it?), but unfortunately, that didn't occur to me until I was on the phone with my cousin Maddy, two blocks away, relating the story.

I've been doing a lot of fun but somewhat-misguided things lately. Last Saturday, I went with Erin and Jimmy to Coney Island in the late afternoon to see the "Creepshow at the Freakshow." Tempted with the promise of Presidents, spookiness, and freaks, how could I resist? By the time we got off the train, it was raining hard and the wind was blowing sideways. My umbrella flipped inside out more times than I bothered to count, and we were all freezing cold and wet in that really indisious, clammy way within minutes. It was kind of awesome. It was definitely ridiculous. We strolled down the boardwalk, fighting the wind, avoiding a sheet-metal sign that had ripped off the front of a concession stand. We watched as some moron trolled the raging beach with a metal detector. Seriously, dude, you could die out there. What could you find that would make it worth it? We (I) ate a hotdog at Nathan's. We went to the Creepshow. Which was exceptionally strange and actually legitimately terrifying. My favorite part were some terrific glow-in-the-dark paintings of the Presidents, in a rickety stairwell. I couldn't get a really good look at most of them, since we were being hounded by an 'animatronic' Richard Nixon who declared every one of them a different variety of Commie and had to hustle. Along the way, I was menaced by Laura Bush, Erin got touched by Nixon, and Jimmy assassinated JFK. All in all, it was sort of great, sort a mess, and I felt about it the same way that I feel about the normal Freakshow-- I admire their enthusiasm and their creativity a whole lot, and I really like how much they love Coney Island. I just wish there was an outside eye with a little more attention to detail to make everything go a little bit smoother. (I really hope they don't Google themselves and then write excoriating comments on my blog....like they did to Erin's dad. Eekerz! Leave me alone, freaks! I like you!)

Another foolish thing I did recently was walk the thirteen-something miles comprising this fair island of Manhattan. Jason and I took the train to 207th Street yesterday, walked up to 218th, and didn't stop (save for a terrific half-an-hour at Grant's Tomb and a horrible fifteen-minute lunch crouched against some planters at the Time Square Sheraton) until we reached Battery Park. Somewhere around Union Square, it became apparent that if we stopped, even for a light, it was really, really hard to get started. So we did a lot of jaywalking or pained, Frankenstein-ish lurching in place on corners to prevent our bodies from shutting down like they wanted to. Jason felt bad the whole time, saying "People run this far! On a daily basis! This is a half-marathon! What's wrong with us?" I felt bad, but in a different way. Mainly in a way that is a direct result of never exercising and wearing Converse on a thirteen-mile walk. Let's just say that I'm sort of walking like Quasimodo today. It isn't charming.

I didn't really expect this to happen, but I'm getting super nervous about the election. Not necessarily worried, just really nervous. I can't wait for next week.

I also can't wait for Thanksgiving. Pumpkin pie? Sign me up.

But Halloween is another story. Though I am very happy with my costume (thus far)....only the people at work will get to see it. :( Bummer. On the bright side, I'm sure the East Village will be overflowing with freaks for me to watch while work is slow. Good.

What's all this I'm reading about snow?

And this is where--

Last week, I went to the Connelly Theatre to see The Talking Band's latest show, which is called "Flipside." They had a show at La Mama in February called "Imminence" which I saw and really, really enjoyed. Their work feels really exuberant to me, and they do new stuff constantly, and have been working that way together for decades. I find them to be an inspiring gang.

Anyway, my favorite and I think the loveliest part of 'Flipside' found two of the characters playing one of my favorites games. All it consists of is remembering things that happened in certain physical spots, out in the world. I can't walk for more than ten feet without playing this game. Sometimes, it's the worst thing ever, if the memories are sad, or worse, if they're nice but for some reason I can't enjoy them any more. But sometimes it's the best thing ever.

zany.

Sometimes, I feel uncontrollably zany. And then I do weird things and say weird things and feel, basically, weird. Now is maybe one of those times.

I've been hard at work for the past few days on 1) making a paper (papier if you want to be pedantic) mache log for my Log Lady Halloween costume, and 2) revamping my play. I had a nightmare about my upcoming reading the other day, and I have to say that that's a first. It was like the classic actor's nightmare, only I was the writer, and when I gave the actors their scripts, they ridiculed me for not having finished any of the scenes. It was horrifying.

I've also been trying to go to sleep a little earlier and wake up a little earlier, with the goal of being more productive. I'm not sure it's working at all. In fact, I know it isn't.

My weekend was pretty darn good. Saw The All-For-Nots play in the Lower East Side on Friday night, went from there to a party where I was a little too much of a party monster, but I didn't lose any of my belongings, so I think I came out on top. This weekend, Rinnzor and I are going to take a trip to Coney Island for their Halloween/Election-themed special freakshow extravaganza...it seems like it might be overwhelmingly strange and wonderful. That's all I can hope for, at least. I hope it isn't filled with weird carny types. There's a very good chance of that happening.

I'm going to try to put this zaniness into something productive. I could be worse things, I suppose.

I can't get enough of these.

So stupid. So hilarious.