My Play Anthology is going to published at last!

Last week I called my publisher at Exit Press about "Cervix With A Smile," having sent back the last batch of proofs.  (Dragging my feet is one of my finest skills.)  He told me we're "almost there," just a few small things and:






Interesting factoid: this glitter graph is from a MySpace generator.  So MySpace is still out there...

Alan Rickman and John Kennedy Jr. - Blast From The Past

For two years, I worked on an autobiographical show, "Size Matters," at the then super-hot Westbeth Theater Center.  Eddie Izzard did his first major show, "Dressed To Kill" there.  Many, many celebrities came to see it.  I found this email to my sister from 1998:

We went downstairs for a drink after rehearsal [in the lobby].  And who should come in but the English actor Alan Rickman (tall, huge face, very obvious dyed chestnut hair).  He was accompanied by a guy who I was sure was William Kennedy Smith--the rapist Kennedy--and it seemed too weird, as if the main reason they knew each other was some club for the famous.

And then I see all the women around me go spastic, and I turn and I'm next to JFK Jr.  Sweaty and in workout gear!  I swear to God, I have never seen anyone have the effect on women he does.  I bet his dad had a similar effect.  Our bartender, Beth was the only one unaffected and was really annoyed as one woman after another came in and collapsed against the bar.  It was JUST like Elaine on "Seinfeld"!  After he went into the theater, I watch the ushers and waitresses collapsing against each other in agonies of lust.  Eddie's girlfriend, this gorgeous Englishwoman named Christina, came in and grabbed the bar, moaning, while Beth said, "what's wrong with you?"  Quite a scene!

I remember standing next to him, and talk about GUH...sorry Alan Rickman had no effect on me, but he had SERIOUS competition!!

March Came In Like A Polar Bear

Today was supposed to be warmer.  I bundled up Fletcher, took him to the park, and it was 19 degrees.  19 fucking degrees.  The poor little guy gets sooooo cold.  Everywhere is solid ice.




 Rupert has the right idea.

 I'm on a diuretic to help with my blood pressure.  My doctor FINALLY admitted that the other drugs interact with my nervous system.  Thanks, genius.  I spent every summer for several years shut in my apartment, because if I went out, my legs would give out from under me.  Then I'd see the neurologist.  He'd have me briskly stagger down the hall, turn fast and crash against the wall, and stagger back again.  They did two cranial MRIs.  The first one--boy howdy, my brain was messed up.  But the next one, as my doctor put it, "showed the same exquisite abnormalities as the last one."  I'm not sure he used that word, because a doctor at the Lenox Hill psych ward in 2009, who saw me collapse every day when I was given Abilify, said I had an exquisitely sensitive system.  It doesn't seem to have much effect other than a faint feeling I need to pee.

And I'm having trouble with my eating.  Again.  It's probably because I hit 210, and that scares me.  Getting thinner scares me, it always has.  I haven't binged, but I'm eating just enough to make sure my weight doesn't go down.  Combined with not going aside unless necessary, recipe for weight gain.  I don't exercise nearly enough, even though at intervals I enjoy it.  For the past two years I had a joint membership at the Y, which I didn't use.  This go-round I told him to re-up as a single member.  I'll go with a guest pass.  The resentment level has dropped precipitously.  Now I can look for a disability dance class without feeling guilty.  I can do everything ten times better to music, and I love dancing.

Today I'm taking another bash at the play intro, and then sending it in.  Fuck it, even if it's filler, I have to get it off my to-do list.