Jesus Gave Me A Snow Day.

For real.
It has to be Jesus.
Jesus and the snow day parable.
MFA college was canceled today. All of it. The whole day locked up. No classes. No meetings. No entry.
How nice of you Eleanor Jesus Roosevelt.
How nice on the day after my opening night.
How nice of you to alert me so far in advance.
My performance was so focused and charged.
I was thinking about what I was saying instead of what was due tomorrow.
Can I get an amen?
And that extra celebratory whisky and soda water went down so smooth on account of I knew I didn't have any responsibility today.
Today has been hoarded up with the kitties and the grub hub.
My pants are not pants at all and it's well into the evening.
Venn diagrams litter my living room floor.
Softly interlacing in dusty pastel chalk the same differences between writing, and performing, and writing performing, and workshoping, and presenting, and devising, and leading, and editing, and listening, and me.
And us.
And all the things we do.
Together,
Skin & Toast

Enter SL.

Cue off of Lizi.
Take chair from SL lip.
Place front right leg on spike mark.
Sit.
Cue off of Lizi.
Dialogue.
Lizi exits SR.
Finish text.
Exit SL.
Enter SL on Kurt's "Transcribe a passage of...." Line. Anticipate.
Sit at ajoining desks DSR with Tim.
Remember cues.
Lots of one liners.
Just keep looking at Tim.
He knows what's going on.
Exit SL on Tim's "Lets be beside this thought..." Line.
Come right back on SL.
As soon as podium is set.
Tim helps you on podium.
Sit.
Deliver sad text.
Tim carries you off SL.
Considerable amount of downtime during Trevor's interruption.
Enter SL for gesture piece.
Cue off of Tim.
Tim hands you desk.
Place it DSR.
Sit.
Chair should already be there.
Kurt got it.
It will take a while for table cloth and pickle/glass of milk to be set.
Just look interesting/ed.
Still doesn't make abundant sense.
But, looks good.
Do the pickle thing.
Exit SR.
Get folded piece of paper off of shelf.
Hold it and stand off SR until
Tim's "fucking some other guy." Line.
Anticipate.
Enter with bottle cap text.
Talk to Lizi.
Do beach/Katherine Hepburn stuff.
Watch Kurt exit SL.
Cue off of lights/music to start talking to Hank.
Talk to Hank about love.
Slip paper to Lizi.
Pass paper from Lizi to Hank.
Hank reads it.
Stand on "it is a fine story." Line.
Walk DS.
Turn SL.
Look.
Walk SL.
Look.
Walk to desk.
Sit at desk.
Clean up.
Eat orange.
Listen to Lizi.
Say hi to Kurt.
Stand.
Give papers back to Kurt.
Let Kurt sit at his desk.
Finish orange.
Look pissed.
Interrupt.
Rant.
Interrupt again.
Sit SL of Kurt in chair.
Move chair DSL on "Fake." Line.
Watch Kurt do tribal dance.
Walk off arm in arm SL.
Feel it.
Fake bow.
Actually just come back out and say thank you.
The end.









To see the play that happens by this, and with this, and in this, come to the Neo-Futurarium TR/F/Sat's through 4-6, 7:30pm. Opening this evening, 7:30pm.

www.neofuturists.org

http://analogneofuturist.tumblr.com/

~Skin&Toast

They are logs at my feet.

The cats are logs at my feet.
Throats twitch. Necks sputter.
Eyes half open.
Dreaming easy race track dreams.
Chasing cheese or sand.
Reminding me from the inside of their cotton avalanche that the hardest thing about writing is writing.

You decide to create an hour and a half of art.
You commit a project to your year.
And then three days before the people come you have something.
Not sure if it is at all what it set out to do.
Don't mind.
Really.
Don't mind entirely what exactly they say.
As long as they wait at least an hour.
Just please don't talk while I'm talking.

One draped over the record player like it's his job.
The other coiled on the mattress edge as though it's crowded up here.

You decide to try to be a master.
And you commit your life to two and a half years.
And it starts out rough.
But now gleams back at you like a wet penny.
Even the hard days are nice.

Wake early.
Skip church for a cut and a color.
It was her only free slot.
And anyway I think it was Jesus who said, when you look good you feel good.
Get the bangs blunt.
Feel like a winner.
Check reflection in every store window on Damen between Lawrence and Winnamac.
Check on life raft.
Not in the bed.
See light.
Pages cover the bathroom floor.
Pages of the script that we wrote with our friends.
Up to his chin in mustard bath.
Hot mustard bath.
Good job.
Looks nice.

Switch bags.
Go back out.
To talk and work.
In a Sunday apartment.
Sunday friend apartment.
Two friends.
Three if you count the skinny man watering dead plants.


All the changes are made.
Now memorize it in a day.
Keep running those baths.

Don't forget about all the homework.
I wont.
It's fun.
Read a book of poems.
By Sommer Browning.
Really
Really
Really
Really
Like it a lot.
The words we read for this teacher
all of them
feel connected
as though she has a very large point
a really pretty point
not pretty like pink
pretty like you want to live there.

Get a little nervous about everything that is supposed to happen between now and the next seven days.
It is a long list.
Get a little exhausted wondering where the last five weeks went.
Vanished like mustard powder on top of hot steam.

Search the kitty dander for suggestions.
They tell me the Oscars are good this year.
Turn them on and garlic the toast.

Life raft jets to be with Tim.
Living here for six weeks from LA.
To do the show.
He looks the same.
He lives the same.
To be the same.
Good old.

Back to the avalanche to write the hardest thing about writing is writing.

Always enjoy the dead montage. Place bets on who will be the last slide in the show.

Final on Final,
Skin & Toast

De-Green.

Woke up in time for Sunday Morning.
At a low volume.
Stretched over sized sleep shirt over folded kness.
Made sure not to get horizontal.
Didn't want to fall back asleep.
Life raft creaked out to snuggle.
Knew he had a long day out.
Salon.
For six years of my life I marked my second week in January with a salon.
A Neo-Futurist prime time salon.
Wierd to imagine them all there.
Eating dohnuts over ideas.
Stepping over each others sentences.
Getting nervous.
Getting tired.
Getting excited.
Working out loud.
Went to the 11am service.
Fran preached about the three words you would use to describe yourself.
Or call yourself.
If you only had three words.
Christian.
Wife.
Writer.
But you're not in trouble if you don't call yourself a Christian.
Or if you don't call yourself a Christian every day.
I mean she didn't say that.
But.
This is an Episcopalian church.
These are my freinds.
Friend.
Friend.
Wife.
Sister.
Or.
Student.
Partner.
Believer.
Something to think about.
In list formation.
List formations are healing.
No matter the heading or margin.
In my opinion.
The lady in the scarf asked for volunteers to stay after service and help de-green the church.
The wreathes are dying.
Kind of sad.
You can take a pointsetta home if you want.
No thanks.
Poisoness to cats.
Wanted to walk to the Sweedish pancake house for sausage and lingden berries.
Got too cold.
Jutted into the deli/cafe/brunch/novelty item place.
Ate chilequilles at the counter.
Read.
Kind of sad not to be with rosey cheeked friends and their warm stacks of paper.
In.
And.
Out.
Thought about going to the twenty dollar spa.
Decided it was just too cold to go back in and go back out.
Went in.
Ran a very hot bath.
Lit votives.
Breathed.
Stayed in the water just long enough to work up a sweat.
Felt good.
Felt eased.
Oily.
Put clothes back on.
Much too early for pajamas.
Needed to stay awake.
But not crazed.
Not frantic.
No spirals.
Clothes on.
In the bed
But only half way under the covers
With the book.
Took my time.
Doozed a little.
But finished all the reading for tomorrow.
Did not get horizontal.
Felt very good.
Very proud.
Got up.
Did the dishes.
Cleaned the litter box.
Rewarded myself with Downton Abbey.
Switched over to the globes.
Wanted so badly to be a famous actress when I was younger.
Didn't everybody?
Glad that dream has faded.
Prefer this.
Life raft came home.
Just like he said he would.
Always does.
Kiss.
Hug.
Order pizza.
Pushed it all through.
The whole day.
Time for pajamas.
Sadness:
A little.
Anger:
Not at all.
Accomplished:
Yes.
Breath:
In.
Breath:
Out.



Good Job,
Skin & Toast

It's Easy

It's really easy to miss her at a table for two by myself.

Comes to me as easy as a drop of water....."As take from me thyself and not me two."

Eggs in the middle of the day.

Twenty seven cups of coffee.

Toasted brioche with lots of butter on top of the butter already on top.

Very warm desk lamp light on top of very polished tables next to very big already dark windows.

Books.

More coffee.

I feel like I am killing time before a train ride to the loop.

I feel like I have your twenty dollar bill in my coat pocket.

I feel like I am twelve and you are meeting me on the steps of the Art Institute.

We're members.

I'm in a dress.

I feel easy and endless.

We lived like kings for no reason.

Sometimes I get angry.



Why would you pay Anna fifty dollars a week to scrub our apartment top to bottom, but not save a penny for your daughters education?


But, I'm not angry right now. I'm stacking the dust of you on top of the ether on top of the seat across from mine.

You're young, and healthy, eating lots of bread, sitting on the butter to keep it warm. We're talking like we used to. We agree on everything exactly. We have exactly the same taste in exactly everything. I'm you. You're me. I'm wearing your sweater. I'm not angry.













I went to a spa. It was only twenty bucks for a steam room/sauna room/Jacuzzi bubble three hour rotation. I took a power sculpt cardio something something yoga class, my co-worker teaches those things--discount! I splurged on a dark pair of no hole jeans. I bought some, what's it called? Kava? Natures natural sleep aid. Keeps me on a schedule and feels better than beer.



It's a new year. I'm committed really seriously scouts honor sears seriously really really hard to working on the sadness/anger thing, it's a full blow part time job don't get me wrong, but so worth it, or so my inner chi tells me.


No more temper tantrums. Please. Not unless they are on stage.


She will always be in silhouettes of dust across from you.


Just breath it in and breath it out.






Skin.
And.
Toast.
Always.
Always.
All.
Of.
The.
Mothers.

Oh Christ.

I think, from what I can piece together from the scriptures, and the epiphany advent baptisms, and the homily eucalyptus oils--is--that the day is really awesome. Actual awesome incarnate. But, the juice really starts to flow once you get home--after the Shepards retrace their steps if you will. That's when you start working. That's the change you wish.

Like when you get a book deal, lets suppose, a book deal, with a handsome advance. Wouldn't that be awesome?

Well, then you have to write it. And it should be longer than a page. So, that's a challenge.

Maybe that's a bad example. Maybe that's not it at all. maybe that's all receiving and not a whole lot of giving.

Or maybe it's the greatest of gifts.

Or maybe you really love your friends. And maybe you feel the need to keep them so close, so very close, so close and squeezy you're almost afraid you'll kill em. Just strangle em. Like a whittle teeny tiny bunny.

And it's always easier to see them this time of year, when there's a big ol' spotlight beaming down on their mangy lil' roofs.

And then the routine starts up again, and the salt goes right to the ankles, and you try on jeans at the Gap all by yourself. And you really really want to see your friends looking Rosy and gifty right now. Cause its just so fun. Cause it goes by so fast. Cause we don't have a lot of time.

So, that means you have to call them.

Ya big loon.

They all live in like a three block radius from your lil' slanty lil' pile of hay and life.

Lean too,
Skin & Toast

AWALL

Hello to you.
I'm writing to you from under a pile of blankets and trash.
I'm OK.
I did it.
I got pneumonia.
But I did it.
I got all A's for the first time since first grade.
I got a fresh set of classes.
They start next week.
Not till Friday.
I'm under a pile of trash and blankets.
They
Feel
The
Classes
I
Presume
From
The titles
Much
More
Pleasing
To
The
Subject
Of
The
Doing.
Less Trash.
Less Itch.










And we're now full speed ahead on Analog; the Kurt Chiang tour de force. So, watch for that. It's crunch time.



Warm Showers,
Skin & Toast