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Last Wednesday I gave my Rhodesia presentation to my anthro class. I was nervous. It went well. That night I met Gina, Linn, Kitana and erin and we saw Eating It at Irving Plaza. Patton Oswalt was very funny. Everyone else was funny to lesser and varying degrees.

On Thursday I went to Mint Manor to stay the weekend. On Friday Kitana and Linn and I went to see Matt perform in Showboat (with tech by the magnificent Goose). Matt was the best thing in the production. He stole every scene he was in and brought the house down more than once. Michael J. Fox, who was in the audience, was seen to turn quite ugly with laughter (!) at Matt's brilliant performance. I must note that Matt was the only real actor in the performance; no one else even thought to attempt a Southern accent. And he has a beautiful singing voice, although requires confidence in his harmonizing. I will help him fix this; he and I shall pack a picnic of cold chicken, cherries and spiked lemonade and sit on some rocks in Central Park and harmonize until dark. He doesn't know this yet, but that is the plan.

On Saturday, Gina and Kitana and Linn and Cheryl and I met Goose and Matt in the city with plans to see Rocky Horror at midnight. We had many many hours to kill and so we rambled about the city, mostly drinking coffee and eating and laughing at Matt's stories. (He has that power to captivate an audience even when not on a stage; it's something I've always wanted, for it is a skill positively essential for Divahood. He must give me pointers.) Goose was bashful and yet somehow luminescent; the two of them together are like watching an exceedingly good magic show (a la peanabudder sandwiches and the like). She freaked me out slightly by consuming extremely disgusting-looking candied orange slices, and I freaked her out with a revelation about the smell of my urine. It's a tradition, she and I freaking eachother out. Then I bought her some asparagus and Matt took us to the hookah place where we all pretended we were the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland as we smoked and ate Arabic food. (Or perhaps only I pretended.)

Afterwards we went to Village Karaoke and screamed "Like A Prayer" into the microphones and laughed a whole lot.

Then, tragically, Goose and Matt were forced to go home. I tried to get them to stay using logic, bribery and tears, but they were pillars of strength retreating into the darkness. Little punks.

So it was just our quintet of Goils who proceeded to 12th and 2nd to enjoy Linn's first viewing of Rocky ever. (She was the "warm-up virgin" of the night, and did a
very fine job indeed.) It was fun, as it always is. The guy playing Frank was the best Frank I'd ever seen.

On Sunday, it was a very tired quintet of Goils that rode with Cheryl to Rhode Island to see her band, Brite Phoenix (I will never support that name) perform at their first gig. It was at this event that The Magic happened. Cheryl was luminous and appeared very at ease in front of the crowd; her dark gothness and sunny spirit captivated all, and she sang beautifully. Not having slept the night before, I was extremely sleepy and nodded off severall times into my meatballs, despite the beauty of Cheryl's singing. However, she sang one song during their second set that woke me right up. That girl has a gift for surprises (she surprised us with The Pilot(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) on Friday night, which resulted in much drunken revelry, which is a story I'd best let someone else tell). She sang a song she had written. It was dedicated to The Goils. It was called "alt.fan.us" and it was an incredible, funny, touching, silly, wonderful tribute to our collective love. I demand that she send us all the lyrics so we can learn it and have it become our new anthem. Gina and I, upon realizing what the song was about and hearing some of the lyrics ("Cheesecake and Baileys", "my two passions", "The Royal We", "coasting on charm", to name a few), burst into tears and spent the entire song hugging poor Kitana and sobbing. It was magical and wonderful, especially with the knowledge that our lives have been so profoundly affected by having known each other that Cheryl's very presence on a stage, singing, was in some part due to it.

The love is a profound thing. It's profound love. Oh, the love. You know what I mean.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:12 PM | shower me with attention