Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Showing Up
Last week I was asked to show up at a club. It was amazing and insane and wonderful, and honestly, I haven't fully processed it. This was last Thursday after the CH Offline Show which was great. I arrived with an entourage of, oh I don't know, 12 people? Luke, Limor, Damian, Jeremy, Ben, Maria, and some other people I can't remember, I think maybe there was someone named Amanda?
We were met at the front entrance and led to the sectioned-off VIP couches with plenty of booze and ice and mixers. Everything was so shiny and breathtaking and new and beautiful. Especially the people. It was a 20-something night and these gay men were so perfect-looking, I could have sworn I was just in a really loud wax museum.
At some point the pictures started. For every picture that has been posted on facebook, another 10 billion were snapped. Someone went through the process of printing out actual MK bucks. Another delightful lad came dressed as Ashlamp which totally blew me away. People were swooning. I was too.
I had bodyguards on hand. Not Luke, actual real-life bodyguards. Big, nice, black men in big, nice, black suits. They held my hand as they took me around the club. I liked that, it felt safe. They were such fast walkers, which is refreshing because it's literally beyond my understanding how there are people in the world who walk slow.
I went up on stage at some point. I'm not sure when, 2 am maybe? I was introduced by the host who was dressed up as Ashley. She used the words "Youtube sensation..." which makes me giggle. Luke and I did an improvised bit which went over well. I made a comment about how there were so many beautiful men there tonight with such perfectly sculpted eye brows and it made the room laugh. Then Luke turned to me and said, "Do you want to do the crowd surfing thing?", and in that moment, I remembered we discussed the possibility of crowd surfing if the place was packed enough and the stage was high enough. Turns out it was. So I put the microphone on the ground and threw myself into the crowd. I remember thinking, "Well, this isn't a normal Thursday..." The crowd surfing seemed to last forever, but then eventually my wig came off and I held on to it for dear life. I remember thinking, "The depressed Elaine of 2009 would have been mortified by this..." But honestly that version of Elaine would not have even shown up. However, this version of Elaine, the slightly more evolved Elaine of 2012, the one who is starting to believe that it's okay when your wig comes off and it's actually kind of great when you show your vulnerability because it means you're human, yeah, that version? She had a great time.
I put my wig back on and danced with my friends until we were all thoroughly exhausted. Then somebody put me in a cab and I went back to Brooklyn and my chariot turned back into a pumpkin right around the Williamsburg Bridge.
I learned three important things that night: 1. that I know all the words to all of Katy Perry's songs without having actively listened to them, 2. that I'm good at identifying when someone waxes their eyebrows vs. tweezing, and 3. that the perimeters of my comfort zone are actually a lot wider than I thought.
Speaking of comfort zones, someone a lot smarter than me once said that everything we're seeking - wisdom, understanding, love, acceptance, a t-shirt that says "I belong!" in comic sans - is right outside your comfort zone. So I'm glad I went to the club. It was one of the best experiences of my life. Some days I'm treated like royalty and some days I'm not. The next day I woke up late and ate soup and wore zero make-up except for what was caked on from the night before, and I went about my day, sweaty yoga clothes and all, without anybody recognizing me and it felt strange... like I had a weird, elaborate dream that I couldn't shake. Part of me wondered if it was a dream. Then I signed on to FB and saw all those pictures and, sure enough, the damn thing was real.
The way to induce psychosis in rats is to behave inconsistently with them. I hope the inconsistencies of my day to day don't drive me too crazy. Mostly, I just go around in my sweaty yoga clothes and read my books on the subway and get shit on by pigeons and look like a glorified homeless person, and all I can do is work. And keep working. And keep writing. And try my best to be as sane as possible in all situations. And show up for things when things arise.
We were met at the front entrance and led to the sectioned-off VIP couches with plenty of booze and ice and mixers. Everything was so shiny and breathtaking and new and beautiful. Especially the people. It was a 20-something night and these gay men were so perfect-looking, I could have sworn I was just in a really loud wax museum.
At some point the pictures started. For every picture that has been posted on facebook, another 10 billion were snapped. Someone went through the process of printing out actual MK bucks. Another delightful lad came dressed as Ashlamp which totally blew me away. People were swooning. I was too.
I had bodyguards on hand. Not Luke, actual real-life bodyguards. Big, nice, black men in big, nice, black suits. They held my hand as they took me around the club. I liked that, it felt safe. They were such fast walkers, which is refreshing because it's literally beyond my understanding how there are people in the world who walk slow.
I went up on stage at some point. I'm not sure when, 2 am maybe? I was introduced by the host who was dressed up as Ashley. She used the words "Youtube sensation..." which makes me giggle. Luke and I did an improvised bit which went over well. I made a comment about how there were so many beautiful men there tonight with such perfectly sculpted eye brows and it made the room laugh. Then Luke turned to me and said, "Do you want to do the crowd surfing thing?", and in that moment, I remembered we discussed the possibility of crowd surfing if the place was packed enough and the stage was high enough. Turns out it was. So I put the microphone on the ground and threw myself into the crowd. I remember thinking, "Well, this isn't a normal Thursday..." The crowd surfing seemed to last forever, but then eventually my wig came off and I held on to it for dear life. I remember thinking, "The depressed Elaine of 2009 would have been mortified by this..." But honestly that version of Elaine would not have even shown up. However, this version of Elaine, the slightly more evolved Elaine of 2012, the one who is starting to believe that it's okay when your wig comes off and it's actually kind of great when you show your vulnerability because it means you're human, yeah, that version? She had a great time.
I put my wig back on and danced with my friends until we were all thoroughly exhausted. Then somebody put me in a cab and I went back to Brooklyn and my chariot turned back into a pumpkin right around the Williamsburg Bridge.
I learned three important things that night: 1. that I know all the words to all of Katy Perry's songs without having actively listened to them, 2. that I'm good at identifying when someone waxes their eyebrows vs. tweezing, and 3. that the perimeters of my comfort zone are actually a lot wider than I thought.
Speaking of comfort zones, someone a lot smarter than me once said that everything we're seeking - wisdom, understanding, love, acceptance, a t-shirt that says "I belong!" in comic sans - is right outside your comfort zone. So I'm glad I went to the club. It was one of the best experiences of my life. Some days I'm treated like royalty and some days I'm not. The next day I woke up late and ate soup and wore zero make-up except for what was caked on from the night before, and I went about my day, sweaty yoga clothes and all, without anybody recognizing me and it felt strange... like I had a weird, elaborate dream that I couldn't shake. Part of me wondered if it was a dream. Then I signed on to FB and saw all those pictures and, sure enough, the damn thing was real.
The way to induce psychosis in rats is to behave inconsistently with them. I hope the inconsistencies of my day to day don't drive me too crazy. Mostly, I just go around in my sweaty yoga clothes and read my books on the subway and get shit on by pigeons and look like a glorified homeless person, and all I can do is work. And keep working. And keep writing. And try my best to be as sane as possible in all situations. And show up for things when things arise.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Remy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)