Thursday, October 3, 2013

News Blast

So this is going to be quick, because I'm busy as hell, and I don't have internet regularly. But it's been a long time since I've posted, and I want to let people have some idea of what is up with the Iz monster. I mean myself.

So, and most of you know, with two weeks left before blast off, I signed up for the Tom Todoroff Acting Conservatory in New York City. I was accepted, I have been here for... two and a half weeks. It was and is confusing to me, why I am here.

No, that's not accurate. I know why I'm here. It just sounds like madness when I try to explain it so it's easier to just say I don't know. I'm here because I had a taste of the school over the summer for a week, and realized, in a way that would take a long time to articulate, that this was the answer to my prayer for help finding what to do with my life, in a career type, and money making sense. I still don't know how exactly that will play out. It seems like it may involve acting. I knew it involved story-telling. I was pointed towards writing/drawing, but this came a long and just felt so right. I had talents and skills that I have been developing that are applicable. And, the acting we're doing, I love. Like I love the improv dance I've been doing for years now.

So, lets see if I can give a good update in the next fifteen minutes. Because fifteen minutes is all I have. You see, I live in the worst segment of Brooklyn. By district, it has the highest crime rate. But, I live in a nice(ish) part of it. It is 97% black, at an estimate. Most of them are fine people. I have not yet been mugged or killed. I actually feel fairly comfortable that I won't be killed. I just stick to the main streets at try to get home by seven or eight, and not wear anything that looks too nice. Though I doubt being white helps me blend.

I moved into a house that another conservatory student had just found. When I got there, it was chaos. There was weirdness with the realtor, there was weirdness with the landlord, it's a story in it's own right. For a day or two I was wondering if I was going to come back home to our apartment with the locks changed and our stuff out on the curb, rifled through and stolen.

The apartment was not finished. We had one toilet, no washing machine, no gas for the stove, no hot water, no shower, period. With much shouting and gnashing of teeth we got hot water and the planned second toilet, sans toilet seat. In fact, everything was supposed to be done October 1st. The reality is far from this.

Internet was supposed be installed two days ago, the washer and dryer, one day ago. The internet won't be in for at least another week and a half, the washer and dryer who knows. I've come to accept that, though they may be fine people, everyone we are dealing with is full of shit. Exorbitantly full of shit.

There are plenty of genuinely nice people here. And there are lots of terrified people, and lots of people who really don't care about you or humanity in general.

my classes are amazing. It's even worth living in this insane asylum to have the privilege to go to this school. And living with my fellow students is also worth the price of admission. They're highly motivated, and it eggs me on to be more active myself, to great creative effect.

This school is for keeps. Its hard work, its uncomfortable at times, it's a lot of work, it's a lot of new things, it requires an incredible amount of dedication. And it's kicking my ass into great places.

Now if you'll excuse me, my fifteen minutes are up, and I need travel for 40 minutes so I can pick up my laundry and take it to the laundromat before the streets get scary.

Much love from the fast track

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

I would work there

"Hey man, wanna go to the inconvenience store and pick up some beers?"

"Eh. Not really."

"Why not?"

"It's just so far away. And you have to climb those damn library ladders to get to the top shelves. And the fucking store clerk always makes you answer riddles before he'll tell you where anything is."

"Yeah, but he's always got the best stuff."

"Sigh. Alright. Let me go get my hiking boots and flashlight."

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Shit Just Got Real


There is a lot of shit going on.
I unfortunately do not have time to adequately cover all the shit that is going down, so it must suffice for now that I say, it is mostly good shit, but crazy, and scary.

I just wanted to check in and let you know I still love you, and will resume regularly scheduled programs once shit gets a little less real.

-I Out

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

The Smells of New York City

I am a connoisseur of fine air. It is one of my favorite consumable substances, and I am extremely sensitive and picky about the quality of air I allow to pass my nostrils- if I can help it.

For example, I just came back from a vacation to the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina. The air at the particular place I was staying was exquisite. Some of the finest air I've ever had. Clean and wet and slightly metallic when the mists rolled in, or on clear days,  almost scentless, but with a subtle energy, a substance to them that was so alive and healthy I began to imagine what it must be like for yogi's to live off of air alone, buy chewing and digesting it with special breathing. Almost like a wine taster savoring and sipping and chewing the wine.

And now, the second leg of the journey, New York, New York, is the total opposite. My refined sniffer's sense detects the unsubtle and gorge rising smell of human feces on the steps up and down the subway. As I walk down the street I am befouled with the scent of anaerobic bacteria from garbage, the sickly sweet scent of wet garbage, that makes me want to rinse my nose like it's touched something diseased. Or perhaps if I'm lucky  I just get the comparatively mild base smell of New York City, smog, slowly coating my sinuses and lungs in dark grey soot. Of course there are the ubiquitous smokers, and the retched, clawing, choking scent of second hand smoke. And occasional blasts of warm air and fast food or dirty steam from a manhole.

This is one of the reasons I don't see myself ever living in New York.
It is also one of the few ways I admit to being stuck up.
I admit it: I'm an air snob.

But oh god, the pleasure of fresh air, just cleaned by rain and charged with the tang of a thunderstorm. Or the almost erotic breeze, slightly warm and touched with humidity, on a summer night. As long as the air is good, it's a nice thing to really enjoy breathing. But it does have this down side, when you're living in a garbage dump.

That's all I have time for. I must run to my class. I'll talk more about it when I have time, ergo, after the class, and after the next thing I'm doing immediately preceding this class (Gencon.)

It's been a busy vacation.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Who's Laughing Now?!

"They laughed when I said I was studying sexomancy at wizarding school. But now who's laughing? All of us. As I have sex with them."

Friday, July 26, 2013

In memorium

I can never forget,
but it is good to remember
(though remembering's bittersweet)
because memories are all I have now.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

A Collection of Incorrect But Well Loved Names

Some of the names I came up with while brainstorming the name of my new blog:

The Secret Thoughts of an Open Eye
It's My Party and I'll Die if I Want to
Mostly Comprised of Meat/Semen/Love
Lets Get Naked: the Private Thoughts of a Madman
Beyond Belief
Heart Cries and Earth Shakes from the Center of All
Blowing Thought Bubbles in the Milky Way
Fuck you, I'm Napping: the Erotic Ramblings of a Crotchety 94 Year Old Man Trapped in a 13 Year Old's Body
An Erotic Tea Party With Giraffes
The Quark and the Ovum
Drunk on Starshine
Anteater Cunnilingus
Dysgraphic Discursives
Exegesis on Crackers
Too Much Different Stuff to Give a Catchy Title: a Straight Rendition of Facts
Batshit Insane: My Mind
Really Big: Ponderings on the Universe
The Universe is a Big Playful Puppy: Discoveries and Thoughts
I Don't Know What This is but I'll Call it Love
Stick Figure Porn
Death Sex Humor
God the Moth
Nothing but Beauty
The Truth is Pornographic

They weren't the correct names for the job, but I'll keep them at the ready, in case I find a good place for them. If you use them, give me props. Maybe someday I can get a dream job naming things.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Rename Thyself

I really like coming up with names for things. And my old blog name no longer seems to fit me. I am no longer alone, literally or in spirit, and the idea behind the name, "It's easy being alone," of my constant, unshakable feeling of being the only one here, has melted into a comfortable uncertainty.

I don't know that I'm alone. I can never be sure there is someone else out there, but in my heart is the warmth I'd been looking for, trying to find another, and I now see no reason to think it's more likely that I'm alone than that there are other people out there. In any case, not only is it not the central issue of my life anymore, but it's a non-issue, not even something I think about any more.

But there are still things to learn, and I'm learning them every day. And there is still beauty to share. And crude jokes to be made, and worlds to explore.

This post marks the beginning of something new.
And perhaps, the reinvigoration of my blogging. It's my intention. We'll see how it carries through.

Anyways, my love to all of you who I know, and to those I don't know, in a general kind of way. I am fond of you humans, even with the messes some of you make. There is something great at the center of you. A huge potential, a beautiful power and kindness. Usually you don't see it in yourself. And so you don't act on it. Understandable. Yet, it's there, none the less.

Another friend killed herself a few days ago. I hadn't seen her in a month and a half. She was, is, a dear friend to many and a wonderful, courageous, funny person.

I'm too tired right now to try to make sense of it, for myself or anyone else. I'm just trying not to shut down and go into shock or spiral into depression. I wasn't as close to her as I was to Dan (I don't think I was as close to anybody as I was to Dan) so I am spared the worst of it. And perhaps having gone through something like it before I am better able to deal with it the second time. Grief is a physical shock to the system, and must be dealt with as respectfully as a serious physical injury.

It's easier to pretend you're not hurt, wounded, that a piece of you hasn't just been ripped out, because there is no physical evidence saying it is so. But if you ignore it, if you don't deal with all the emotions that bubble up from it, you will be bleeding out emotionally,  the wound will be getting infected, and things won't be healing right. Just as surely as if you just got a chunk of you ripped out and tried to go about your life as if nothing had happened.

My my, this has become moribund. Not what I intended for my first post, but what the hey, it's what's on right now, and that's what this has always been about.