Forgot to mention: last night, Z-Man and I had comp tickets to a marriage benefit here in SF, at the Palace of Fine Arts. The cast from the SF production of Wicked featured prominently, and other folks' names were attached, including Vanessa Williams, Margaret Cho, Carol Channing, Lily Tomlin, Valerie Harper, Florence Henderson, Rita Moreno and lots of others.
Actually appearing last night were Bruce Vilanch, who was quite funny and read a letter from Harvey Firestein; Patty Duke, who is a) tiny b) but not as tiny as Selene Luna, and c) attached to the SF production of Wicked; Carol Kane, who is awesome and mad, and read a letter from the woman who authored the book to the stage version of Wicked; Lee Meriweather -- yes, that one, Miss America 1955 (which she laughed at hearing out loud), and the original Catwoman from the Adam West Batman movie in the 60s; and, pretty much the reason I went, Selene Luna.
There were some acts I hadn't heard of or wouldn't have put a name to, including the Barnaby Sisters, who did a wonderfully campy-dykey version of "When the Special Girlfriends"; Ava Garter, an amazing old-school burlesque dancer with feathers and pasties and all; Nicole Parker, formerly of MADtv, who did a very, very funny faux "cabaret star of the 80s" song and act; Celisse Henderson, another Wicked cast member who did a really good drum and rhyme bit about marriage; and some other acts that were enjoyable.
Favorite quotes:
"Holiday time is the worst. There's so much pressure on me to be . . . enchanting." -Selene Luna, comedienne (don't call her a midget)
"I'm sorry I'm laughing so much. I hadn't heard how they were going to introduce me this evening!" -Lee Meriweather, on being introduced as Miss America 1955 and the original Catwoman
"Somone messed with Patty Duke's box. Oh, that didn't come out right." -Suzanne Whang, remarking that the diminutive Patty Duke's podium elevation was removed from its expected location
"People stare, yeah, I get it. But it's the ones who. Keep. Staring. I just want to go up to them and say . . . 'Only you can see me. I'm here to help.'" -Selene Luna
After missteps, mis-coordinations, and the usual last-minute frenzy, Z-Man and I are moved in. Halle-effin-lujah.
There are still a few loose ends for me to deal with, including storage for a few items that we don't have room for; a couple of points of business to take care of; and a few things to clean up at the old place. But the hard part of purging and packing is done, as is the heavy lifting (thank you, Delancy Street Movers).
The unpacking is far less sucky than the packing, but things are still unsettled. I still have some books to unpack. A few items are still looking for homes here. My brand new mattress just arrived today. And Bella is still adjusting (cat + spiral iron stairs = better than reality television (waaaaay)).
And I really love this new place. The layout, the roof garden, the location, the 15 minute commute. Things are still, as I said, a little unsettled yet, but it's just the little earthquakes afterward.
No, like, you can take something you strongly dislike, and say, "I hate it," but that's not the same thing. That's "distate," or "revulsion," or "suck-tastic." You can loathe it too, but that's different altogether. Loathing has no love at all. "Hate" is the flip side of love.
And nowhere is that more true than with moving and I.
I'm not exactly a pack rat. I don't just accumulate for the sake of accumulating. But I'm deeply sentimental. "Mental" being an important part of that word. Z-man, wisely, keeps trying to tell me, "Sentiment is emotional, not physical." And that's true.
But it's not merely sentimentality. As my mother reminded me, my grandmother, one of the most sentimental people I have ever known, was ruthlessly good at throwing things away, which is sort of out of character from what most people might have thought of her. It's a Cancer thing (the sign, not the disease).
No, physical things to which I am attached are a version of personal read-only memory (P-ROM).
My brain, as certain close friends have remarked, is kind of hard-drive-like. Recollection is a scan which they physically see happening.
But I think I'm getting older. There's been some degredation. I need a defrag, too.
Going through my desk tonight (one of my parsed-out goals for purging), I came across correspondence from 20 years ago, before email and blogs were "invented" (or at least popularly accessible). I forgot how good a letter-writer I was, back in the day -- the day being my freshman and sophomore year of college (1988-1990).
I've come across things that I instantly knew what they were, why I had them, but weren't really a part of my memory any longer-- possibly the most hilarious being some stickers I got in 1983, when I visited my friend Gary, after he'd moved from Miami to Jupiter, and worked that summer in a photo-developing place (nearly a relic itself). The stickers were thought- and word-bubbles, like you'd see on the comics page. They had such witicisms as "Where's the Beef?" and "Girls just want to have fun!" and "I love Rock 'n' Roll!" One was meant to apply these stickers to people in your pictures. Hilarity ensues.
As a bonus, in the sleeve with the remaining few stickers (of which all of the above quotes were found, perhaps proving by their lack of use that I've never been too dreadfully trendy) was a decal sticker of Inky, Blinky, and Clyde, and . . . um . . . the other ghost from Pac-Man.
See, I can't remember the other ghost's name without that sticker!
Granted, that's probably not important anymore. A garbage bag on my floor is positively lined with items about which I've reached the same conclusion.
So, I'm doing pretty well with the purging. And there's surely an up-side to throwing away items that you're embarrassed about having now, and I mean that in a non-destroy-the-evidence sort of way. But I'm not feeling it at the moment. I feel, at the moment, like I'm losing people and experiences to a general aether of forgetfulness.
And I've signed the lease to a new place. Packing and purging begins this weekend, to culminate on the move on Friday next. Woo-hoo! The place is really nice, and I will be posting pictures. I'm genuinely looking forward to being in this new place w/ Z-man (both cake and icing).
But right now, I'm trying to choke down my burning hatred of a thousand suns for the moving process.
I remember reading about the Marshmallow Experiment some time ago, and its interesting findings. Seeing it edited and wrapped up like this is kind of awesome.
And speaking of delayed gratification, Z-man and I may actually, really, have a place (for rent, not for purchase). I won't say too much more about it, since it's not set in stone (or even paper), and Mercury is retrograde, heh. But here's hoping!
