Music

Music works in our minds in various strange ways, and imprints itself when we hear it, and all senses. Songs that play consistently over a certain period of time or just once during a very important moment, tend to stay in our minds and be the great representatives. Dozens of songs and albums have been devoted to eras of my life, certain places. Not that any of you would know these songs, or just call them pop songs. So for that reason, I will not post them. But do you know what I'm talking about? I have songs that I really can't listen to unless it's that time of year, or else it will feel strange, and ruin the song's magic. To name one song, "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley is a song specifically for July. I only listen to it in the summertime, but it's especially good if played in July. Another song that just reminds me of a time of my life, is "Beep" by Pussycat Dolls. That reminds of being eight or nine. 

Taste

Taste. The magical sense intertwined with smell. It means a lot to me. Every era of life has a taste, every taste has an era. Twizzlers almost taste like grass from eating lunch at day camp on the grass when I was seven. Fruit tropical Trident gum is the August I was eight. Dominos pizza and diet coke are the entire year of fourth grade. Trident watermelon gum is the summer I was nine. Cheese ravioli are the spring at the end of fifth grade. Trident sweet mint is the following August.  Garlic knots are springtime I was eleven, March and April. Chips and salsa from Chipotle are March 2009.

Show

The first most horrifying thing is the smell of the theatre when you first walk in. Early in the morning, smelling like air conditioner, lysol, and traces of make up. As you descend into the dressing rooms of backstage, the outside world draws away. You have entered your dungeon. But it's not a dungeon yet, because it is till cool and spacious. Only a few of your friends are there, enough to keep you company. Locate your spot, claim your territory and don't let the little kids mess with you. In ten minutes, you're organized. Hairspray, water-spray, hair-gel, random crap in a bottle, hairbrushes, hair ties, pins, nets... and that's just the hair. Eyeliner: liquid, black and brown. Lipstick, three different shades. Light blush, dark blush, from white to brown to blue green and pink eyeshadow. Make up kits that are 1' by 2', lined in rows. Light bulbs wrap around the mirrors, and burn the room out; "It's like a sauna in here!" 

But on the stage, it's cold as hell (oxymoron, if you think hell is hot). A rainbow of warmups, leg warmers, sweatshirts, socks, slippers, leotard sleeves, and happiness. Jumping around on the stage like maniacs, and snapping pictures while you're at it. Counting reserved seats, loosing tambourines, organizing quick changes. Ten in the morning till four. Dress rehearsal. Break.

FREEDOM!!! Outside! The world! For the first time in hours! Out from the hot lights, and stifling dressing room. It's raining. Feels cool on the skin. Starbucks. Double chocolate chip frapp. Sugar. Oh so bad, but good. Dinner time. Sandwich. More pictures. All together now, laugh, smile, "VKDCNY 2009!" Six is curtain call. Out of warm ups, into costume. Panic. Ten minutes. A bag of pretzels passed around. Show. Applause. Cry.

Romance

This is actually a true story and not a random fiction on the spot. I watch it happen every Saturday. There is a girl in a black costume living a sheltered life around everyone and special, but too special to live. A girl of innocence, the angelic image, a trapped seventeen year old. What teenager like that wants to be so protected so out of touch, so naive? The perfect person is isolated though so glorious, but see, there is excitement for her. Someone has come from far away, literally the Prince to dance with. This is the moment, the only chance, contained emotion is bursting out. The spectators say, 'oh, what a wonderful actress' but can you see what is really going on? This is her life! Her little teen romance, and it's all hidden by the stage. Seduction, love, the game, the victory, what every other seventeen year old has at excess. Poor deprived soul. It's not acting. She's attracted to him and she's trying to get him because this is all she has to play at. But look. He's bored. She's just another girl he's hired to dance with. 

Dusk

At this most holy moment when the Sun and Moon meet in the sky, I pray that I may be protected and seen by the Seers of this universe, both looking down upon me now. I pray that the colors that blend like the rainbow on the canvas that is the Father Sky, may never die. Let all that see this moment, and all that you see in this moment be blessed by the beauty and holiness of it. I ask the spirits to understand my plight of faith and let me be at peace with all the powers of the Universe for it is below humans to be of the knowledge which ones are out there and who they are. Under this Sun and Moon I pray.

Girl

And so the girl was scared. She wasn't so sure how she'd landed where she was, alone in the dark on the south side of Pinehurst. Neither was she quite optimistic about her situation from that point forward. Come on now, this was her hood. She'd grown up there. She flipped back her hair, which was a mess, tangled around her ears, just above her shoulders. From her peripheral vision she could see wisps of it pointing every which way, and some strands were stuck to her tear-stricken face. Not a good look, thought she as the expansive block before her grew shorter and shorter. If only she could find a sign, a bodega, get over onto Broadway. Though it was dangerous to be roaming on a Friday night, if she could find Broadway, she could get home. Come on now, this was her hood. As her clogs tapped on the uneven pavement, some car was playing hip hop, far off. She imagined the sound becoming closer, and quickened her pace towards it. She'd grown up here. It was all fine. The hip hop did grow louder, which made her heart pound, and her cheap hoops in her ear clang high-pitched. Headlights scared her off the road. Startled the girl. But as it would be, that SUV and the lights that threw her off 171st, threw her right in front of a taxi, on 172nd.

6pm

I'm going to walk and ow. Are you under me to walk? Come on. It's just a better of need... oh god... water, water. Yes, they - I - I want some. Please, can I have some cheese somewhere? Not him. I need a little bit of cheese please. Oh, put, put... they went to Shelter Island? Lili? Are you all right? You look unhappy. Right. She needs to hear. Please, just, there's really great food.  Kay? There's really good food. You find it for yourself. Good for you. Ooh, cool, sweet potatoes and onions?