“You stay alive, baby. Do it for Van Gogh.” ~ Frank Booth

Wake up, bleary eyed. Dried out from the alcohol, grab a pint glass of water. Slug that down and turn the espresso machine on. Lie down.

.

Get up, shake off some of the haze, drink some more water. Make espresso (dripped for 22 seconds, getting better). Foam some milk, add to espresso. Sit down at the computer. Remember a conversation from last night that reminded me of some great songs on SuperUnknown. Check MediaMonkey and realize that my library got all jacked up when I was rearranging everything (making backups of important stuff – when’s the last time YOU did that?). Grab the CD, pop it in, re-rip it at the insane quality bit-rate setting. Start to play it.  Realize that I’ve never EVER heard the quality and separation this good before. I used to listen to it on cassette on the crappiest car stereos in the world. At my desk, my Alesis monitoring speakers are crystal clear. Nice.

Sip the black elixir. Try to recall what it was that I committed myself to. Wait. Crap.

CRAAAAAAAP.

It’s becoming clear. I committed myself to performing in the next Boylesque show. WhatHowWhy?  Ouch. Time for some more espresso.

I slowly shake my head with a mix of wonderment and maybe lingering regret. Well, many, MANY of the manly burlesque guys are already going to be performing in the first show.  I heard through the grapevine that it was happening and someone said, “Aww, dude, you should do it!” Apparently that wasn’t enough of an arm twisting. I forgot all about it. Then the show lineup got posted. Wow. That’s a lotta guys. Somehow I got skipped out in the first round draft. I figured out why, it’s because I’m generally in the background, I still don’t get to as many shows as I used to. I still feel tied to everything because I post the shows but I still walk around a lot of the shows with Office-Standard-Avoidance-TI4 mode. You know, the “I kinda know you, but don’t really know you so I’m not going to make eye contact or say anything to you even though we both know each other but not well enough to strike up a conversation.” Don’t blame me, blame society.

society

So I tried to spread myself around a little last night (wait, which part of the night was I showcasing my particular moves?) and ran into the producer and started discussing the Boylesque.  After my initial reaction of seeing the flyer I was like, “Well, what song would I dance to? First off the top of my head was Rumble by Link Wray.

Cerebrally, I have to imagine that all these guys are thinking about all the normal things that women burlesque dancers think about – anxiety, body issues, performance ideas…etc.

This should be interesting.

The producer already has some ideas for me. *Sigh*

hopper