Chicken nugget earnings
Chicken nugget eye patch
Chicken nugget necklace
Caul fat viel
Chicken nugget earnings
Chicken nugget eye patch
Chicken nugget necklace
Caul fat viel
I love the snow.
When I was little, I would play a morbid game were I would pretend that I was a traveler on an expedition in Antarctica or Alaska…. Or whatever.
I would go into the backyard and trudge through the pristine, dense, knee high snow. My steps were exaggerated as I faked an epic struggle. I would grunt and breath deeply and pretend that I could no longer go on.
All my supplies where gone and rest of my troupe… Dead. I had failed. It had been days since I’d had my last meal.
I would pretend that the shed was my final destination. Just as I started to reach it, I would fall the my knees and start crawling.
So this was the end, huh.
It was so quite on what I would imagine was a vast, empty field of whiteness. So quite, I could hear the snow falling.
I would get very still and then suddenly… I would collapse and lay motionless in the snow. What a tragedy, I was nearly there.
My pretend life flashed before my eyes as I lay lifeless in the cold. I would loving think of my wife and kids (because I imagined my self as an older, scruffy man). Was anyone going to find me after I turned into a solid block of ice?
(I practiced singing and dancing as I untangled my hair. This is me in 1993.)
How Do you feel?
I’m not good at finishing things. I still haven’t watched the last episode of HBO’s True Blood, which ended last year. I was waiting for “the right moment” to watch the finale, but it never came. I just never wanted the show to end.
Now it’s time for me to close out my birthday performance (which was 2 weeks ago). Right after my performance, my friend Hilary asked me,“How do you feel?”
I answered automatically, “I’m glad it’s over.”
I thought about what I just said and I took it back immediately, “Wait… actually I’m not glad that it’s over.’
“I like that.”
The Day Of (10/09/2015 – written on 10/16/2015)
But let’s backtrack and talk about the day of the performance, my birthday (two weeks ago). I woke up later than I should have and baked a double batch of brownies. When they cooled, I was going to go to the venue and drop off my cameras and shit like that. Once the brownies cooled enough to hold, the skies opened up and it started pouring. Pouring sideways. I made the 20 min walk across town audibly cursing the weather the entire time. The walk would have been more enjoyable had I been carrying less stuff and wearing boots. I dropped off my shit and headed back home. The rain had let up a bit, but I was pretty soggy and cold.
I made myself a pretty disgusting and ugly birthday dinner. Two scrambled eggs mixed with black beans, sweet potato and a chopped up corn cake. There might be American cheese but I don’t remember.
I was really worried that I ate too much and it would show through my leotard (which was very tight). I had watched what I ate all month and might have undone all my work (I was being paranoid).
Then it was time for makeup and hair. I wanted to apply eye shadow (which I’ve never done before) and false lashes, which I am terrible at. Both elements of my makeup actually turned out reasonably well and I felt really accomplished. I was running out of time and my hair was still in a rats nest on top of my head. I was starting to panic. I wrapped a tight pony tail with 2 head bands because I don’t have enough hair for a proper bun. Then I wrapped the base of the bun with some leftover tule.
The tights were a problem… – now my bad posture and sleepiness are getting the best of me and i need to take a break (go to sleep because it 3:25 am which is fucking annoying because I can keep going but I have to be out of the house before noon tomorrow UGHHH).
Note: As much as I told myself that my birthday didn’t matter and “I can celebrate whenever I want”,
it turned out to be a lie. This year I was going to sacrifice that day and it was going to bother me.
Imagine – “go fuck yourself to the tune of happy birthday“.
I do not have a good memory.
I have two examples that play a huge role in my upcoming piece. 1. I remembered the 1993 dance recital as a ballet dance, it is tap. 2. This next example is more of a fault in my logic, rather than my memory. I did not graduate elementary school in 2003. That would make me… 23/4? There is my other deficit, math. This is the year my brother graduated. I made this realization after savagely dismantling a VHS camera. The tape became stuck after the camera had died forever so the cassette door needed to be forcibly ripped off. I had to call a childhood friend to confirm that we actually had sung “The Greatest Love of All” at our graduation in 1999/2000? I wanted to make sure that I didn’t create a false memory.
The cat I am babysitting broke my favorite necklace. I touched his belly so he swatted at my face. He became latched on the necklace and broke the chain. He promptly went to his litter box and forced out a huge smelly shit. He strained so hard that you could hear faint cries as he pushed.
So now I’m sitting here, listening to my roommate and her boyfriend giggle incessantly while I breath in the aroma of fresh cat feces. This is the same roommate who told me yesterday that her boyfriend was moving in December and that it was time for me to move on. I won’t even get to enjoy the Dunkin’ Donuts / Popeye’s that are being built on my corner. Oh my god, it really smells. I just want to dump the contents of the litter box in my “backyard”. My “backyard” is a concrete slab for the ferals.
Now it is 2:21 AM. I am continuing my existence as a bat. I’m considering taking on night work. No one has wished me a happy birthday yet and tomorrow it will rain.
This will be shot on two cameras. Canon Vixia HV400 (mini DV) and a Panasonic DMC-FZ200 (standard). Shooters G / G Shot in 4:3 29.976 fps
Act One – Dance Intro – dance move “I’m getting kicked out of my apartment in 2 months.” dance me “i have acne” dance move “something else”. Classical ballet because I forgot that it is a tap dance.
Act Two – Recreate the dance. Do poorly as the original.
Act Three – VHS dance. Because the camera is broken. Prep for the song
Act Four – Spring Garden School 2003 anthem – cut off tights – “The Greatest Love of All” song and music video. Have intro repeat multiple times. Whitney swings around.
Afterward – Bring out the cake, light candles, sing “happy birthday to you (me), happy birthday to you (me) end, happy birthday to meeeee eeee, happy birthday to me” end on Whitney Houston, “I will always love you” during intermission..
I fixed the hole and am still wearing these leggings outside.
My cats grave. They are buried in towels.
I’m publishing it, so it will be!
My dance / song recital is creeping up on me. I am finalizing all of the music and memorizing lyrics and dance moves. My leotard arrives tomorrow and I am praying that it will fit. The most challenging measurement to obtain is the “girth”.
When thinking of a song for my big recital, for some reason Whitney Houston kept coming to mind. Of course there is the 1992 mega hit, “I Will Always Love You” – 1992 but there is also, “The Greatest Love of All”. I remember singing (well, shyly mouthing the words) this song in elementary school for one of those ridiculous student recitals. It was for my 6th grade graduation. It was the kind of performance where you stand on risers under extremely hot lights. Every year someone was guaranteed to faint causing a hilarious domino effect of small children. I recently learned that this often happens because people lock their knees for an extended period of time.
Whitney Houston was born August 9, 1963, in Newark, New Jersey. She died on February 11, 2012. She was found in a bathtub after having drowned after suffering the “effects of atherosclerotic heart disease and cocaine use” (wiki) I blame it all of this one that fucking asshole Bobby Brown.
I used to want to be some kind of entertainer when I was really young. I took dance classes, but was awful and NEVER sang. I wouldn’t even sing “Happy Birthday”. (I only sing in the shower when I’m sure no one will be able to hear) One time, I took out my tape recorder and sang Britney Spears “Hit Me Baby One More Time” -1999. This tape was fortunately lost and I hope it is never found. At that time, I really liked the Backstreet Boys, Savage Garden and an assortment of other adolescent bullshit. I eventually became a cubby tom boy and those dreams were crushed.
I was just taking a shower and thought: this piece is an homage to my earliest performances. The dance recital and 6th grade graduation were performances. (Lets not even go into the difference between performing arts and performance art right now). I never really thought of them as performative but why not?