Monday, March 22, 2010

The late weekender: Let's just call it DISCO

Life just keeps clip-clopping its merry way along, and as of late, I'm just trying to keep up!

This weekend brought something new, something different ... something disco. You think I kid? Well, check out the pic. The complete getup was way better/more than just the shoes (altho, geez, the shoes rock any house they grace) -- it involved, no jeans but, I-kid-you-not, a 50s-appliance-green sequined dress (yep, smug nod) that has left traces of its seafoam sequins everywhere (my floors, my shoes, my bed, my shower and my yoga mat). And eyeshadow to match. Will you be seeing pics of this? Hell no, you think I'm crazy?? This is the Internet, people! You must satisfy yourself with words. Or come visit me -- I'll be happy to show you in person.

So, the reason for all this madness was something called The Donkey Show, and if you have any inclination what that references, yep, that was relevant. It was basically Midsummer Night Dream picked up and dropped into Studio 54 in 1970. Words kinda fail me, but it was wild -- people come in costume, the setup is like a club so the audience is dancing for a lot of it and the action takes place all over, and there's a DJ spinning disco tunes throughout, along with the cast singing them. Oh yeah, and there are the four nearly naked guys in glitter bodypaint and not much else dancing on cubes throughout the night.... Oh, good times, people, good times....

Another fabulous thing about the shoes is that Willa loved them. Loved them. Like, couldn't get enough of them. Crawled all over them, rolled on them, stuck her head in them. I got as many shots as I could, but didn't get any of the best money shots, unfortunately. But I'll post some of the Willa lovefest when it's not (again) past my bedtime.

The best of all this is that the shoes actually made another appearance tonight at this fun reading called Four Stories (four authors reading -- get it? one in particular blew me away, Jeff Talarigo, need to go find his two prior novels; he read from his in-progress set in Gaza ... wow and damn). But it also featured a hot-shoes contest. Well, my friend who accompanied me to the crazy disco night came along for this, and we knew the shoes deserved an appearance, but my toes had just recovered from wearing/standing up/dancing in them for some four hours Saturday night, so we decided she would cram her toes into them. It was a great decision, the shoes were a hit, altho they didn't win the contest -- can you believe?? Highway robbery. But some of the writer-readers told her they thought my shoes should've won. Ha, vindication.

So, those are some of the entertaining extracurricular activities. On a serious note, I must tell anyone who's reading this who's trying to do anything in their life and is finding it challenging for whatever reason, that I have a powerful resource-tool-magic for you: Steven Pressfield's The War of Art. Go find it, buy it, right now. It's/he's amazing. And I've just started it. For real, people, do it. I'll come back to him, I'm sure, but it wouldn't be right if I kept this powerful magic to myself.

Now, now I must sleep....

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