November 23, 2003 :: 11:35 p.m.
I feel like a gay nazi Elvis in this outfit
Erg. I'm very, very tired. I got up at 8, worked from 10-6:30, stopped at Adam's, and then came home. I was supposed to start the first of my four final pieces for Drawing tonight, but things haven't gone quite as planned. I mean, I
did start it... just not like I wanted to. My intention for this series of drawings was to take a piece of glass, squish my face under it, and then draw four self-portraits from that. I like the idea. I think it's neat, and more interesting than plain ole' self-portraits. But here's the thing... squishing your face under a piece of glass whiles standing in front of an easel and trying to look at your squished face in the mirror hanging on the wall is not conducive to getting anything at all done. It's hard to squish one's face effectively when one's head has nothing to lean against, the glass gets all funky and oily and stained with fingerprints, and all the lights that I must have on to actually be able to see myself in the mirror glare off the glass so that ironically enough I can no longer see myself. It's a big mess. So now I'm just sticking with regular self-portraits, perhaps in a variety of interesting hats. Because hats are much easier to deal with.
I'm sort of sad about the demise of my Self-Portrait Under Glass series, though. I really wanted to do that. Maybe someday.
I need to organize my portfolio and spray a whole lot of charcoal things with fixative, but I don't want to. I want to curl up in my bed and get 8 hours of sleep for a change. So that stuff can wait until the morning, as far as I'm concerned. Because dammit, I'm fucking tired. Bedtime will be very soon. But first! First I must tell you about The Concert.
After a horrific, chock full o' traffic drive to Philly - excuse me, Upper Darby - we arrived at the Tower Theater at approximately 7:09 p.m.; at 7:16 p.m., we entered the theater. Now, I should point out that I am royal bitch to attend concerts with. Truly. I get all stressed out when I'm driving around someplace that I'm not familiar with, especially if there's traffic. Which there was, since we went down through rush hour badness. And there's this whole thing where concerts are really just gathers of people, so of course I hate that part. So I'm cranky and snippy and generally unpleasant until someone comes out and starts singing. Then I'm good, because that's why I'm there. Teddy Thompson was the opening act; he played some new things and some old things, all of which I enjoyed. He opened for Rufus when I saw him at the Electric Factory, too, so it was comfortingly familiar.
The man himself, Mr. Rufus Wainwright, entered stage left (my left, anyway) with a whole entourage following him out. Six backup and instrumental people, I believe - his sister, Teddy, a keyboardist, a bassist/cello guy, another guitarist, and another backup singer. His sister is still too bizarre for words. Apparently she didn't follower her dear brother's example with that rehab thing. And speaking of, there was no glass of wine present this time around. And he seemed slightly more coherent.
He played all of the songs from Want One, five from Poses (Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk, Poses, California, Grey Gardens, One Man Guy), two from Rufus Wainwright (April Fool and Beauty Mark), and three miscellaneous things (Little Sister, a french version of Moon Over Miami, and Gay Messiah, which will be on Want Two). So in all, 24 songs. It was glorious.
The glory was marred slightly by the people around and in front of us, though. First I was sitting behind this guy in a fucking baseball hat (bad concert etiquette, mofo!) who kept sucking face with his girlfriend for hours at a time. I generally don't have an issue with public displays of affection, but jesus. It's an very close space, people. Go get a room that I'm not in. Adam and I switched seats at this point, because he's taller than I am. Also, Rufus is much more important to me than he is to Adam. But then of course tall people and people with big hair had to sit down in front of my new seat. And the guys to our right were binge drinking. I think one of them puked in the lobby and had to leave, because the other was summoned by a theater employee with a flashlight. Ha!
There was no spectacular merchandise for sale... t-shirts, a hoodie, a Want One vinyl. I don't like to buy concert shirts because I know I never wear them, and the hoodie, while tempting, was $40. No thanks. There were really fun posters hanging all over the theater, though... but you couldn't buy them. Adam stole one for me. It's the best thing ever. Rufus shall live on my wall forever.
Well, kids, I have more to say... but the fatigue is taking over. It's nearly 1 now, after all. So much for getting 8 hours of sleep. And yes, I am incredibly slow. I get distracted too easily. I've been reading the recap of the latest Tru Calling on TWoP while writing this, so you know. The show really is fairly terrible, but at least it makes for amusing recaps. But now it's sleepy time, so au revoir - we shall meet again soon. Probably tomorrow. I'll understand if you need to rest a bit and catch your breath; I have that effect on people. I�m like excess weight.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005