one of our heads is destined for tinfoil

Yesterday Vali & I went to the Court Theater in Chicago to see August Wilson's The Piano Lesson. Definitely the best play of the season and possibly one of the best things I've ever seen on stage. I'm so glad I knew nothing about the play so that I could be blown out of the water by the end. It's one of those moments where you wish you had a better memory so that you could replay every bit over in your mind and remember everyone's reaction. I just remember wanting to laugh and cry all at the same time to let the tension out. It was truly special, and that's why I love live theater so much. Like Vali said, when they took their curtain call you could tell on their faces that they'd just done something magnificent. It's true, they were radiant. (Contrast that with The Wild Duck, an earlier production from this season. The actors looked embarrassed and quite frankly, who could blame them?) I can't believe I have to wait until September to see Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. Go ahead and make those hinder jokes now, kids!

Doing research for an article on Superfund led me to Love Canal: My Story by Lois Gibbs, which sort of led me to ignoring the garden all weekend because I couldn't put the book down. From a timid person who's biggest job up to that point was picking out curtains (her words) to taking a couple of EPA stooges hostage at the Love Canal Homeowners Association in the space of a couple years. Amazing, in other words. My favorite part (this was after the hostages were safely freed) One special moment was almost lost in the craziness. Two small children, a little boy and girl about seven years old, came to the broken window. The little boy gave me chocolate chip cookies and told me if I went to jail he would write me some letters. The little girl gave me a plastic baggie with cookies, which she was going to eat herself. She told me to take the cookies because they didn't have cookies in jail. She then said she loved me because I was helping her mother. That was touching. I guess that's the real reason why we did fight so hard-- for our children. Now I'm waiting for the sequel to come winging its way to me via Interlibrary Loan. At least I *think* it is-- my home library's interlibrary loan system seems to be based on how "with-it" the library clerk's feeling that particular day.

Talked about Alison Bechdel's Fun Home at the monthly comic book discussion. It was my choice and the first one not to feature any superheroes, capes, tights, or laser beams. I was a little nervous about it being not the normal thing we talk about, but it turned my fears were unwarranted as the afternoon went great. I told everyone straight up not to worry, that you're not going to screw up or say anything bone-headed, and they didn't. We had fun talking about form and content, the quality of memory, the difficulty of writing a memoir and why we would never do one ourselves, and their own experiences of reading Fun Home on the train and getting dirty looks. Hey, some people get their jollies on being offended. We somehow managed to get in some questions about Star Trek and why there aren't any queers in the future (unless you count Q).

We also talked about our experiences growing up with gay family members and the generation gap. One guy said he was ranting about it on Facebook when his lesbian cousin mistook his ranting for raving (lol internets), and they had a really interesting back-and-forth. I told them how much I hated Mo every chance I got and why I think she should be immediately killed and yes, I don't *care* that Mo wasn't in Fun Home (unless you count Alison Bechdel), I still want her shot out of a cannon. They say we always hate those who most remind us of ourselves.

Ironically, the only headdesk-y moment for me tonight wasn't about Fun Home at all, but about Laika. I gave it back to the person I borrowed it from and someone else complained about how maudlin Laika was. >.< Vali says it's a defense mechanism because of the source material and I agree. Still, when I read a comic book about a dog who gets sent on a one-way trip to outer space, I like to think of the upside! Why couldn't they have sent a Westie, for instance? The questions are endless. Actually, it's just the one.

Tomorrow, our mystery book discussion will be The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. I didn't like it. Next!

--Buffy comic, virtual season eight, number eight. I was reading it and wondering why it seemed so familiar, and wouldn't you know it? The downside to this largesse is that you get the really upsetting cover that has Faith drowing Buffy. o.O

--Lesbian Pulp Fiction: The Sexually Intrepid World of Lesbian Paperback Novels 1950-1955. violetisblue and I are the worst lesbians in the world. I mean, we totally flunk. When I'm not spending a good portion of my waking hours figuring out how to get two policemanofficers from the West Country to fall in love, Vali is singeing my eyebrows off with Doctor/Master slash.

Speaking of, you really should read Vali's and jonquil's latest story, Velleity. And then join bestenemies. And then give them all your money and toys. ::slobber::

And then when you've picked yourself off the floor read annlarimer's Curse of the Cuddly Monkey and fall right back down again with lols. This story has completely ended me.


Ahh, good times. I had a nice three days off. I even got stuff done that I wanted to do, for a change. I've been exercising a bit more and that's making me feel a little bit better. This is my favorite exercise tape. It's the perfect combination of catchy rhythms and lots of different kinds of jiggly eyecandy being put through their paces by a friendly gay man. With the whole yoga and pilates craze I sometimes feel as if I'm the only one in the world who still likes step aerobics. It's even harder to find step aerobics routines that don't sound like they're set to your little brother's Casio, but I'll manage. It'll be biking season in a couple of months anyway.

Last night we watched the latest remake of Persuasion on PBS. It was lovely, yet there was something missing, namely why on Earth would anyone want to be with Anne Elliot. Sally Hawkins seems like a wonderful actress, but it looked like a pretty thankless job to act stunned at things for 90 solid minutes. Giles, OTOH, looked hot as a 19th century Krillitane. It suits him. Here's hoping Northanger Abbey will be a little bit better. The book was a hoot.

And I'm learning to cook without consulting recipes. It's weird.

I did other stuff too, but now I can't remember what it was. Watching The Five Doctors (my choice) has put me into a pleasant little coma.