A Hooker’s work is never done

Life feels as close to normal as it’s been since I arrived in NC on Monday evening…due to the fact that my kitty cat is rubbing on my leg, vacillating between blissful drooling and angry biting, at my lengthy absence.  She still smells the same, which is a great comfort to me, because I’m really smell-oriented and I am prone to putting my face on my cat’s stomach when I’m sad or stressed, and the smell calms me down (for reasons unknown).  Anyway, she’s still deciding how long to be mad at me, but I’m guessing it will last until I crawl into The Guest Bed (aka my little brother’s bed), and then she won’t be able to resist the unabashed snuggling that I know she’s been waiting for, all summer long. 

So I’m in Raleigh.  I am feeling really bizarre these days.  Depressed is perhaps too strong a word, but it’s something close.  I’m glad to be home (mostly…but that’s another story entirely) but there is an ache that I feel quite pointedly (poignantly?) to be back on The Cape with my pals.  And, if I’m being honest here, and that’s my aim, I hardly know what to do with myself, not having Labneh to talk to.  Sure, we’ve talked on the phone, but it’s hardly the same, and it never will be, ever again, and that’s the nature of this, this business, that summerstock experience, and it’s great for what it is, but damn! if it doesn’t burn.  I haven’t felt so displaced, disconnected, and utterly heartsick at saying goodbye, Ever Before.  This feeling is new to me, this homesickness for somewhere that wasn’t home.  Old Queen Anne (the artistic director) told us at the beginning of the season that Monomoy would steal some of our hearts away this summer…I begin to see I can be counted amongst those ranks. 

But I feel like I’ve gotten ahead of myself.  Rewind to Saturday night.  Butter and Egg Man closed to thunderous applause and raucous cheers (I finally Hooted and Hollered at curtain call, just like I threatened all season), and we proceeded to execute the worlds fastest strike.  We had the truck loaded and the theater/workspaces locked down by 12:30.  It’s apparently a new company record.  Then we watched the hilarious video that The Movie Voice has been compiling and editing all season…it’s great…I hope it hits YouTube soon, I need to Rewatch.  After watching the video, there was a large company-wide Goodbye, which got lots of people crying (kinda tacky, I won’t lie), and chased the steelier members of the company to their respective rooms.  I ended up in Labneh’s room, and we ended up trippin’ out, laughing hysterically, until the next door neighbor had to knock on the door and ask us to be quiet.  It was 4 in the morning, after all. 

Next morning, I got up at 9:30, ate a donut, hugged Old Queen Anne and The White Slave goodbye, and piled into my car with Labneh riding shotgun.  We didn’t talk much on the way off of the Cape…we had just spent an entire summer talking to one another constantly; I guess what was left to say was kinda heavy and lodged easily in the throat.  We made good time to Rhode Island, where I was dropping her off at a friend’s house…her flight out wasn’t until Monday…but when we got close to her friend’s house, she wouldn’t answer the phone, and we got seduced by a Barnes and Noble, the first we’d seen all summer, and the next thing I know, we’ve been drinking coffee in the B&N for four hours, having shaky conversations about distance and denial.  Finally, we called the friend, and she arrived shortly, and in the acid drizzle of Rhode Island rain, in a slick parking lot, we said goodbye (she said, "See you soon, Not Goodbye") and it hurt me, oh how it stung, and when she let go of me and ran to her friends car, I knew she wasn’t running because of the rain, and the look on her face when she waved at me over her shoulder nearly broke my damn fool heart.  And then it rained All The Way to Philadelphia. 

I was upset when I left the B&N parking lot, ya see, and so that is my excuse for getting So Very Lost in New England that afternoon.  My travel intinerary that day read as follows:  Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut (that’s right, made a big circle TWICE), New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania.  Finally made it to Philly in time for The Bottom to drop out, and Dallas and I got f’ing soaked, running to the corner pub, where we spent a lovely four hours drinking beer and catching up.  She’s doing great, it seems, which makes me happy. 

Next day, I rallied to the finish, doing the Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, NC leg of the trip.  It’s a long drive.  And an interesting sociological examination, if you Only Listen To The Radio…I feel like I could accurately offer up a picture of the musical tastes of the general populace of each state I passed through.  I recommend this self-inflicted torture via radio-only road trip to anyone and everyone…it was truly enlightening. 

To Be Continued…

I’m home again, and my internet doesn’t work, and it’s making me crazy, holding in the tales from the road and the bizarre transitional state I’m in…but alas, I’d feel like a Real Geek going over to my friends house to update my blog. So there’s that.

Everyone is running around here in a frenzy of packing. I myself have been slowly packing for Days Now, in anticipation of leaving, and don’t really have much left to do. My roommates, naturally, hadn’t done a damn thing until 8:30 this morning when I was trying to sleep. Oh well. Just one more night.

I am Really excited to know that this is the last day I have to look at some of these people. Not many of them are heinous, but the few that are…damn, they’re hard to like. One girl I haven’t liked from the get-go got in my face last night and told me she needed to be honest and tell me how she really feels about me (she was drunk, I tried to stop her) and it went something like this:

You…you (hiccup) have been the voice of reason this whole slum..slum…summer. Anytime I needed to talk to shomeone, you were there (which is funny because I haven’t said two words or looked this girl in the eye in two months) and I appreshiate that great (hiccup) greatly.

Then she started to cry and I laughed when she hugged me. I think I can be a Real Bitch sometimes. We all deal with transitions differently, I suppose. Apparently, my tactic is to disconnect and get Icy. There are exceptions to every rule, naturally.

The highlight of my day, so far: Labneh had her family bring authentic taboule and spinach pies for me, since we bonded over our love of Lebanese food. It was So Good.

So, Butter and Egg Man was a fantastic show…the audience ate it up, and it made me laugh harder than any other comedy of the season. The old lady sitting next to me kept pounding on my knee and that made me laugh harder, which made her laugh harder, and we Got Loud together for all three acts. Its the most pleasant interaction I’ve had with a patron all summer…it’s weird to sit in a theater with 250 people over the age of 70, when I’m used to college, or at least, college-aged audiences; the older people are usually relatives instead of The Core Audience. It’s been interesting…

After the show closed last night, the champagne came out again…ahem. I discovered that vodka, champagne and grapefruit juice makes a delicious and lethal cocktail. It tastes so good, and it feels ever better, and then comes the sucker punch, and watch out, folks! A karaoke machine was set up on stage, in front of the curtain, and people went to town in a most hysterical, impressive fashion. The highlight was definetly Miss WV and Labneh sang Defying Gravity, from the musical Wicked. Those bitches were In It, and they put on a great show…complete with props and serious over-acting. Miss WV was so cute when it was over, and everyone was literally screaming and cheering for them…she told everyone that she had just lived out a dream of hers…She was floating on clouds for the rest of the night. And we all felt ten times lighter for how hard we laughed…

Today, we had a brunch (bacon!!), and then they took us out to this private decommissioned lighthouse with a private beach on the tippiest tip of the elbow of Cape Cod; it was unbelievable, truly. So Beautiful. There were speckled ospreys the size of thanksgiving turkeys, and there were boats galore and it was perfect weather and the company was good. It’s apparently The Spot that all the local artisans like to paint because it’s so pristine and gorgeous…rose hips blooming everywhere and seals rolling around in the sun. Kinda like paradise.

I’ll miss this place, I won’t lie.

…opens in five hours, and then It’s Done. It’s a very funny show, if only the actors would learn their lines in the next couple minutes. Not all of them are having issues, but there’s a few that are really fumbling. It’s a good show, all the same, and if they can cover their fuck-ups, no one will be any the wiser.

People are starting to pack up. Things are being cleaned, boarded up, seperated, thrown away. I hardly feel like I’ve been here for a week and a half, and it’s time to leave. I harp on this, I know, but it’s a very interesting sociological experiment I’m witnessing as this season draws to a close. It couldn’t happen sooner, in my book, because all the creature comforts I’ve taken for granted are screaming for me to Return, and I think my drive back into NC will find me full, with a renewed sense of appreciation for the lovely life I live. Mind you, I’ll probably cry in the car some, just like that twelve year old girl I was, already missing her friends, and being heart-broken at the thought of never seeing them again. I never did, is the thing. However, I’m an adult now, and I am better equipped at maintaining friendships over long distances, because I can make the decision to spend the money to Go Visit. It all comes down to being old enough to book a flight without parental consent. I’d still like to shrink some people down to fit in my luggage, and reinflate them upon arrival in Winston Salem. Sure, they’ve got their own lives to lead, but what about my needs?

I’m painting a sign for next season right now. Well, watching paint dry would be a more apt description, but it feels good to be coated in paint again. My natural state of being, as it were. I like that my fingernails are crusty and blue. I like that my legs are stippled from the wind blowing spray back at me. It feels like coming home. And that is what I’m craving more than anything.

In other news, I have lapsed into a state of complete denial concerning my father’s recent diagnosis. I have decided that this is Okay For Now, as I simply have to get through these next five (!!!) days and then I can deal with my Real LIfe. I attepmted twice to get drunk and wallow in some misery but I couldn’t get drunk….it was ridiculous how many shots I had, with no effect. I took this as a signal from my body that this is the Inappropriate Response, so I quit that one.

The box office girls are all laying out in the sun in their bikinis, and maybe this is shallow, but not a one of them ought to be doing that. The actors at O.U., apparently, are not stricken with the same body image issues that all the actors at NCSA seem to be afficted. I’m just sayin…I like seeing girls in bikinis as much as the next person, but Not Like That.

Paint’s dry.

There is less than a week left in my contract here at Monomoy…hallejulah, praise Jeebus. I have to admit, I’m going to miss this place. For all the torture, and bizarre, cramped living quarters, I’ve grown accustomed to the people, the enviroment, the work, the schedule. I’m going to be waiting for a bell to ring to signal meal times when I get home to Winston Salem, I just know it. For all the hardships that have come along with living on The Compound this summer, I feel like I’ve gained an awful lot from the experience, the least being the Extraordinary jump in my sewing skills.

I’m remembering now how I felt leaving summer camp as a twelve year old, and I’d only been at Camp Merriwood for three weeks. Leaving people is hard, particularly because I Just Know that most of them will fall out of my existence just as easily and swiftly as they fell in. For a huge majority of cases, this is fine, but then there’s the people that I accidentally got attached to. At the beginning of the summer, I imagined that I’d hang out with Preston and Mikey and a couple other techies…I didn’t bank on finding Real Friends From Far-away Places. I like having people to visit in Other Places, but I’d hate for Labneh and Miss WV and P-Funky fall into obscurity like they were some cheap band from the 80’s.

I always get anxiety when I have to move.

Lots of things don’t make much sense to me right now. For example, the summer season is nearly complete. My job here at Monomoy is mostly Done, as the 8th show goes into tech tonight, and I am finished with my sewing obligations.

Also, and this one’s a doozy, I don’t fully comprehend the fact that my dad has Cancer. I found out yesterday, and it is fair to say that I have been Totally Freaking Out. It’s the same kind of cancer my grandmother has, in the throat and the lymph nodes, except there is a more ominous tone to the initial diagnosis of my father…from what I got from he and my stepmother, the doctor could only tell that the cells they found weren’t the Original Cancer. Meaning, it’s already spread. We will know more when he goes in for the full-body CAT scan next week, and I am terrified, utterly terrified. I have been vaciliating between something close to hysteria (either tears or laughter, mostly the former) and feeling Absolutely Nothing, for the last 24 hours. Last night, after I got off the phone with Jeana, I was literally hallucinating, I was so shocked and fucked up. The whole world was shifting in front of my eyes, and it felt appropriate, albeit uncomfortable, because that vision perfectly mirrored what my insides felt like at that moment. My entire reality shifted in the course of one, short phone call. I can’t know what will happen, obviously, and after the shock wears off, the important thing will become Staying Positive, but right now, I just feel like A Wreck. I essentially checked out of the job in the costume shop, and I feel no guilt whatsoever, because while I Can indeed cry and sew at the same time (shout out to Zulema! from PR), I certainly didn’t want to have to do that. The only peace I’ve felt since I got the news were the two times I left The Compound with Labneh…she will talk to me and let me talk and tell me funny or interesting stories that get my mind off the subject. She has been a good friend, and at times, the only company I can tolerate. I hate crying in front of people, and I just can’t seem to turn it off for too very long just yet. I am trying very hard not to get carried away in a Worse Case Scenario, since the info is sparse at this point, but it’s hard not to go down that path in my mind. I feel too young for this be happening.

Sleep calls. I read a Truman Capote story today about a man that steals dreams. The main characters are a retired clown and a secretary. I’m almost scared to shut my eyes. Who knew Capote could play in the realm of Steven King and get away with it?

Tonight, as soon as Cat closed for the evening, myself, Miss WV, and Labneh piled into my car in our grungiest best (okay, Labneh was lookin’ flawless, as usual, but she’s all about the Glamour) and made the trek to Provincetown for their Gay Pairie (their spelling, not mine) Carnivale. Unfortunately, we arrived late, and the festivities were obviously winding down…streamers were all over the streets, their was vomit on the sidewalk at fairly regular intervals, and all The Gays were supporting each other just to walk down the street. While it wasn’t what we were expecting—we were thinking more along the lines of drag queens on stilts, floats, Cher impersonators around every corner, and fireworks upon our arrival—it was fun, nonetheless. It was nice to be off of The Compound at night, like normal humans going out for an evening of fun. When we realized there were going to be no floats, we dipped into a karaoke bar for a hot second; Miss WV wanted to sing Cher or Loretta Lynn, but the DJ (a Cher impersonator, himself) was shutting down for the evening. So, essentially, we drove an hour, round trip, for Labneh to buy a pair of sparkly flip flops. We ate some pizza and ice cream as well, so the trip wasn’t a total wash. I mean, it wasn’t a wash at all…it was nice to go out with friends and do Something Different, especially in light of the fact that we only have a week and a half left together, and we’ve gotten fairly tight these past couple of months.

Here’s my question for P-town, however: Where are all the lesbians? I saw more gay men than I knew existed in North American, but there was only a paltry smattering of lesbos, and they were All real busted lookin’. None of them were young and foxy; they were either grey haired crewcut dykes, or grungy gutter punk lesbos. It was a bit disappointing. I had high hopes of meeting some sweet young thang and making out in an alley with a red light, or something, but alas…I had to make do with walking down the street beside the hottest women in P-town.

I told Labneh (completely sober) that I have a crush on her…she pried it out of me, to be completey honest, but it felt good to finally say it out loud. We were sitting on a curb together, down a residential side street, waiting for Miss WV to bring the car around, and when I told her, she put her hand on my arm and smiled too sweetly…more games. There was no shock, no awkwardness…which is a first for me where the Confessions to a straight girl go…I’m glad that it’s not going to be a barricade in our friendship, but I can’t tell how she feels about it, aside from the fact that the Casual Contact increased exponentially afterwards. Really, this isn’t New News, so I’ll just stop. All I meant to say was that it felt good to be unburdened by telling the truth.

“Shit the bed” is my new favorite expletive. I have been over-using it for anything that’s gross, anything that’s suprising, anything that’s Really Funny…Thank you, Miss WV, for sharing your colorful language with me this summer. It really says so much, doesn’t it? Shit the bed. Just try it out once…I promise it will feel good. You’ll like it. And everyone’s doing it.

Before I go any further, I feel it necessary to divulge the fact that I am doped to the gills on prescription pain pills, and not entirely With It. Not really at all. Too bad for me that I took a six hour nap this afternoon/evening and can’t sleep, even as loopy as I am. Plus, I had half a glass of red wine, and got a really excellent shoulder and head massage from one of the Leading Ladies (that’s what they call it around here when they import older Talent), so I’m good and relaxed. Typing is not particularly easy, but I can’t listen to music in my room, so here I am, in the coutryard at 3 a.m. with my laptop.

Spending an entire day fucked up on pain killers has reminded me why I shouldn’t take them with any regularity. I love them. I suppose that perfectly explains how I found myself addicted to Percoset at age 17, sleeping in my car instead of going to high school, just because it felt so good to be that relaxed. It scares me when I look back to that time in my life…I see now that I was horridly depressed, and possibly even a bit suicidal (there was one night when me and three friends each took something ridiculous like 25 pain killers a piece, I’m not sure to this day Why, but that’s blatant disregard for life, right there). That truly feels like a different lifetime to me.

Wow. I just got nauseous typing that. I seriously feel like I’m gonna vomit. Those weren’t happy days for me, and I suppose it’s still painful to look back on that. Sickening, I guess I should say. I’m glad I’m not that girl anymore.

So I’ve got this busted ankle. I had to go have it X-rayed this afternoon…the company doc fears I’ve got an evulsion fracture…I don’t really entirely understand what that is, but she referenced ice cream scoopers and divits when we talked this afternoon, if that helps. I am hobbling around like a gimp, and while it’s nice to have people fetch things for me, it sucks, all the same. My foot is nasty looking, and that kind of ruins my plans for next Monday to go get pedicures in Provincetown. ‘Specially if I have to get a cast put on me. I’m hoping that doesn’t have to happen. The company doctor is kinda slow on the uptake, and can’t have the results for me until tomorrow, and she also wouldn’t prescribe anything for me today, so I’ve been living on the generosity of others whith chornic pain problems to get me through the day. It’s been a long time since I’ve been injured enough to cause Serious Pain. I dry heaved when I stood up first thing this morning, it hurt so bad. Good stuff…my last week here, when I don’t have much to do, and I’m All Busted Up. Labneh bought me coffee and donuts this morning to cheer me up, so maybe the trend will contnue and all these cuties up here will be my squadron of nurses until we leave. I could think of worse things…

In a move of unusual grace even for myself, I fell off the back porch of the Company Doctor’s house, and may or may not have opened up an old break in my right ankle. Ready for the cliche’? “It’s an old sports injury…” I broke my ankle playing volleyball when I was in high school (the end of my volleyball days…sigh) and now there’s this old hairline fracture that likes to cause pain on occasion. Like, say, when I fall down in the dark. The very worst part of the whole story is: I wasn’t even drunk to merit a fall like that one. I had one and a half mint juleps, as I was being The Responsible One (okay, I had an agenda) and drove SM, Labneh, and Dream Preston to the party. My only consolation prize was that SM, drunken and spouting incredible innuendo, picked me up and helped me to the car. Sad to say, this is the most physical contact that has been allowed up to this point, and even then, walking arm in arm, I saw the wave of Not Okay pass over her, right before she extricated herself. My gas pedal ankle is the injured one, and she certainly couldn’t drive (d-runk, that one), and when I asked Dream Preston how much he had had to drink, he replied with, “I haven’t had too much to drink to drink”. So I drove home, and I iced my ankle for a while, with SM babbling to me that she hadn’t been streaking in a looooong time, too long, and what is it about getting drunk that makes her want to take her clothes off? When she added that last bit, I removed myself, tried to sleep, found the throbbing in my ankle to be too much to allow for sleeping, and hit up Labneh for some Advil. I hobbled upstairs to her room, only to find her, Miss WV, P-Funky and K all gossiping and judging like crazy. Of course I had to sit down and join.

The thing is: I love these girls. Genuinely. Love. Them. Miss WV gave me a Vikadin for tonight, and then we proceeded to talk shit for the next hour, until my head started rolling around on my neck from the drugs. Labneh was lounging in bed the entire time, flirting and driving me wild in her tiny tank top. I am Officially Girl Crazy. It’s ridiculous. I feel like a teenaged boy. We got on the topic of personal lubrication somehow (everyone here is so frustrated!) and again, I had to leave, only to return to the courtyard where SM was getting drunker with The Boys. She has taken to calling me Babe or Baby, and I am tiring of her refusal to Ever be alone with me after dark. She needs to put her money where her mouth is. Or put her mouth….well, you get the picture.

I need a new topic, seriously. I’m starting to bore myself with my meandering rambles about women.

The highlight of tonight was watching David Letterman with The Guy Who Does The Movie Voice, to view his guest appearance as The Fix It Man. He’s such a kind man, with an incredible talent for voice overs, and it was actually quite trippy to be sitting next to this guy that’s been around all summer, seen all the shows two or three times each, and there he is on TV, talking shit to David Letterman. I wish that celebrity encounters didn’t thrill me so much….but it Is really great to see A Friend on national TV, especially when he’s delivering a Leather Stud to Letterman, in an effort to “boost his ratings”. Gotta love it.

Oh, and there were two Honey Baked Hams at the party. I was in heaven. I love a Honey Baked Ham, I won’t lie.