Mostly Narrative Freewriting #10: Return to an Old Favorite

I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time in 20 years tonight. This was my 21st time watching it in a theater. The first time way back in November 1993 in Long Beach. I went on and off for the next few years. As a young college kid, was one of the few places I felt like I was free to express my repressed Catholic School graduate mind back then. It was a campy movie that was released the same year I was born. I was drawn to it, largely due to the fact that it was released on VHS my sophomore year of high school. (That seems like 2 lifetimes ago!)

Amusingly, the theater I went to tonight was a block or two down from the place where I went to the Hardcore parties earlier in the year. It’s a great place to get in some Pokemon Go while waiting for the movie to start. (Nothing special was caught, but I stocked up on presents, which is always good. I also won a couple of Grunt battles by remembering what kid of team to assemble according to their comment.)

It was a sold out show, and I was glad I’d bought my ticket last week on my last payday. It’s so odd to have a movie ticket on my phone, still. I don’t think I had a mobile phone with a color screen the last time I saw this movie in a theater, back in June 2001, when I was 26 and married to Kevin just over a year. There was a special showing in Hollywood for that year’s RHPS fan convention. After managing to fit into my 6th grade uniform skirt for the last time so I could dress up as a schoolgirl (’cause why not?!), I took the subway down to Sunset and caught a bus west for a couple miles. (I wasn’t keen on driving my RX7 down Barham into Hollywood in those days.) While waiting to get into the theater that night, a community sing of “Bohemian Rhapsody” broke out. The guest of honor was Patricia Quinn, which was a treat!

On that late summer night on the cab ride home, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to see this movie in a theater again for awhile. I was content, for the most part. It was a good night. I could file it away as something of my youth.

When I hit my 40’s, I started to think “Maybe one day.” And that day was tonight.

The traditional notion of a RHPS Shadow Cast is still alive and well. This cast was terrific. It was one of the best casts and shows I’ve ever seen. This is a true artistic endeavor that has been passed along amongst a certain crowd over the past few decades. It’s a shared experience that is still rewarding, therefore it is still sought out. It’s been re-imagined and re-done over the years, but the movie still seems to be the gold standard. It’s been a Cult Classic for quite a long time–way longer than I really want to admit!

As the movie went on, I realized a lot of the lines I used to shout shamelessly on all those Saturday nights may not be acceptable today. Most of the great lines are still in use, and I remembered as many as I’d forgotten.I stopped myself from saying a few things, just ’cause I knew I’d chosen to memorize those specific lines due to their “edginess.” I can keep those in my head and chuckle to myself.

The more things change, the more things stay the same, indeed. One thing I was quite surprised to see was the large portion of “Virgins” in the theater. I shouldn’t have been surprised–it is on Hulu, after all. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of these kids had been to the Hardcore Parties. As the attire for both events are quite different from each other, it would be hard to tell.

There were certain parts that used to drag for me that just flew by. I think because the cast was so engaging. It takes a lot to perform a musical in front of a movie screen on a tiny stage. It takes a labor of love in order to do this as well as it was done. Makes it awful tempting to go every couple months, especially considering the friend I went with is joining the cast.

I think some parts of our youth are worth revisiting, and I think it would be neat to get to seeing RHPS in a theater 30 times by the time I’m 50. 9 times in just under 4 years? I think that’s more than doable!

Unrelated:

I wrote a poem while I was waiting for my ride to the theater. I need to take a gander at it and decide if I want to post it.

Ramping down my meds has been fairly easy. I was probably taking too much for a couple months. I’m starting to feel alive again, for the first time in longer than I really want to admit. It’s taken awhile to get here, but it’s been a good ride, all things considered.

Mobile Microblog #2

Got bloodwork done after stalling for a few months. But if my doc wants to see me about getting Ibuprofen*, i might as well have bloodwork for her to look at. The butterfly thing gave me a bruise. (My body isn’t fond of giving up blood unless my uterus is involved, thanks to a bout of severe dehydration 1.5 years into my life.)

*Prescription strength ibuprofen is cheaper and more convenient than OTC stuff.

I got a flu shot too, as they had set up a station that was on my way back to the parking structure.

I started reading Brave New World for the first time since college. Interesting how the torture of infants still outrages me, and how creepy selective breeding still is to me. That poor little kid who doesn’t like to be touched was probably asexual. We’ll see what else I notice as I keep reading.

Mobile Microblog #1

(Maybe if I create a new series I’ll do this more?)

The Logical Song by Supertramp speaks to my soul. It captures that base childhood emotion of having your curiosity suddenly stifled when it was time to be properly educated?

Sweetie made dinner. We’re all good cooks, luckily.

Mostly Narrative Freewriting #9: Fall ’21

Survived Widowhood Season #6. The day itself was full of driving and Pokemon Go and doctor’s appointments. The MRI was more tolerable this time because I knew what it was going to be like. Plus Darling was with me the whole day. He’s an amazing boyfriend.

Spent what would have been Kevin’s 59th birthday venturing around LA with Darling, meeting up with Sweetie at a Goodwill near his work. We really need to move in that direction. I’ve got one of two places I can opt to work in the not too distant future. I’m not opposed to a train commute–I’d finally use the hotspot data I’m paying for. I need space from the land of my birth, even though it’s enjoyable having my family so close. The needs of those under my own roof come first.

Work’s continuing to be productive, and my efforts have been recognized in a tangible manner.

I do miss Kevin and Golden Ears. The more I grow the more I wish I could talk to both of them about it. In Kevin’s case, the growth is due to his absence.

Plus, life with Sweetie and Darling is not the drama-filled mess that Triads are supposed to be. It’s a good household, and all we have to do is be ourselves. That includes doing what it takes to co-exist in this day and age. Contrary to the “soul mates are the ideal relationship” and “jealousy means you love the person” and “exclusivity is the key to happiness” notions popular today, it’s easier to be in a relationship with two men than it was trying to maintain an Amour Fou relationship with one man!

Maybe I’m jaded, maybe I’m still bitter that I should have known better but deep down I know it wouldn’t have made any difference. I mean, if I really think about it, Grinner really tried to warn me on a few occasions, and Ka was the one who came up with the waveform analogy for my relationship with Kevin (he said sine wave, but sawtooth is more accurate. I just had too much invested to walk away. Never can say goodbye to Amour Fou,though, until it’s gone for good.

I’m very much enjoying playing Pokemon Go. It’s kind of weird jumping into that world as a newb who could recognize (but didn’t know the names of) the popular characters because of their presence in the popular culture of my teens and twenties. I just wasn’t the demographic. I’m still not that great at it, and owe my Level 37 status largely to all the tips I’ve gotten from Sweetie and Darling.

Sometimes I remember 1998 in bits and pieces. The tandem skydive, when I touched Kevin’s parachute with my toe as we both admired the great view. (I’m not sure if I’ve ever really tried to articulate that experience. It left me speechless, and the sensations and sights were overwhelmingly wonderful. Oh, and roller coasters were boring for a few years afterward.) My “office setup” in the corner of the bedroom with my shelves and my triangle desk. Working while I used my cool multi-CD player to shuffle through large bits of the Steely Dan catalog thus far, falling in love with it the more I heard. I think I really only knew the album Aja before that. Plus The Nightfly. Old school nerds with pre-OSX Macs and (only) four cats living the working at home hermit life.

Then I realize that was half my life ago. How much time has passed since then. Some things are the same–I’m not entertaining the idea of marriage, even though I’m in a long-term relationship. I’m working to establish myself in my new line of work (making roughly the same amount as of late, but with benefits and retirement!). I still get high and write on a computer while listening to the same music. I’d still love to make money writing the stories in my head, but I’ve finally settled on the stories after toying with the plots and characters for like a score of decades.

The cats, synths, and the soulmate are gone. Those were the gold, I guess.

When you lose someone significant, you start to think of time as “when they were alive” and “after they died.” It sucks.

Speaking of articulating life experiences from “when they were alive”–I don’t know if I can ever really describe some of those darker moments. Maybe in a film montage to Alice Cooper’s “Only Women Bleed” or The Who’s “Cousin Kevin”? Those are the songs that come to mind, even though the action won’t exactly mirror the lyrics. I guess articulating all that–even if I just write it out as a script–would require opening cans of worms that are sealed nicely, thank you very much. I’ve dealt with a lot of it, but there’s still all those snapshots in my mind’s eye that may never go away. I could probably do a great job describing one of them, but would that do more harm than good to my soul?

Wasteland Weekend was amazing, as usual. Even more so this year, as it was a smaller crowd and it had been 2 years. It was nice to leave normal life behind for a bit to go spend time with my dirt family. Can’t wait for Neotropolis to finally launch next year! I already have visions of a jazz lounge and I gotta figure out my Portal Object.

Widowhood Season 6.5: Anniversary Episode

7/14 was full of doctor’s appointments. Maybe keeping busy would help?

Ah yes, the routine appointments: therapy and meds review. I can has stability. Now to maintain it.

MRI, mercifully short and not as traumatic. I knew what to expect. Still, I hope to see what my back looks like 30 years on.

Looking at my old YouTube account for the first time in ages was bittersweet. Oh yeah, that was real. I keep wanting to forget how much it still hurts to be the only survivor of that family. Ah, surviving trauma by only focusing on the present. Ok, I’m oversimplifying. I don’t feel like elaborating.

What really helped was Darling being the co-star of the episode. He was with me all day, to love me the way he does-looking after me. 🙂 Sweetie has had that role from Season 1, for the most part, and has been an instrumental part of the improvement of each season. For that, he gets lunch and coffee each morning.

Amour sans fou, for me, and you, and you. That’s what’s so different this season. I have these two to come home to. Here I am me. As if I got to go back to an alternative universe where there wasn’t a reason for a choice.

Widowhood Season 6.4: Survivor’s Guilt

Using the day off you’re taking because you just can’t go to work on your widowhood anniversary, to attend to your medical needs, using your insurance and FasTrack pass to drive out to where the referral is. Seriously?

The nerve… After all, you failed. You even forgave him before he died. You didn’t know what the mourning would be like, and yet you forgave him?

Gotta love survivor’s guilt. I need the damn MRI because of a dumb choice 30 years ago that resulted in a lovely compression fracture on my L1.(An alternate universe has me the parent of a 29 year old, had I made a different dumb choice that day.) Now that area is not happy with me. X-ray wasn’t detailed enough, so it’s MRI time.(My upper back is mostly muscle- related pain, as the specialist expected.)

I did what I could for Kevin. You fight the good fight as best you can and accept defeat gracefully.

I’ve done my best to create a new life for myself these past 7 years. I’ve been delayed by grief more than I expected. Significant losses of loved ones are hell to go though. Full stop.

I love where I am in life, by and large. It’s like I’m finally figuring out who I really am for the first time in my life.

Speaking of which, Darling said supper’s ready.

Widowhood Season 6.3: Couple Thoughts

Still don’t like feeling the loss. I think the extra naps this weekend were an attempt to be less conscious through this season.

Already looking forward to being quite busy on The Day. Though that survivor’s guilt is gonna really make the MRI difficult. Too bad I have to drive home, or I’d ask the doc to prescribe me something to keep me from feeling.

Widowhood Season 6.2: Stream of Consciousness

Again with the music. Can’t help it, though The Specials are as comforting as Steely Dan.

It’s nice to be able to be weird yet productive at work. Fun, too.

The 91 is only tolerable when I use the Fastrack lanes. Better when I can use the carpool lanes as well.

Sweetie is a key player in all seasons thus far. Especially the Pilot and Season 1. He walked in, and my life began again. But he’s never been “my world” the way Kevin was. This is an upgrade, not a replacement, because Darling is here too. Makes it easier to keep my head in the present this year. It’s also making me feel like I need a change of scenery. We need.

Tomorrow’s Girls is a fun song. I need to find my Kamakiriad CD. It’s a good concept album.

Sigh, the jazz I discovered from 97-00. It’s like cuddling up on a comfy couch–never gets old.

The hardcore CD I got last weekend is good driving home music. The drive home is to transition from work to home. Music is part of that.

My country turns 245 on Sunday. Driving down the main drag of where I live this time of year is the Presidential portraits. They’re banners now, and the range is much longer than it used to be. I remember when it started up the block from where I am right now, with an unflattering picture of Regan. I think he’s the only President in my lifetime to get shot. Right after Lennon too.

I should sleep, but I feel like I have less of an excuse not to write if I can post from my phone.

i miss him. And the fun times. But it’s

Funny how you like a song for ages but one day you look up the lyrics and you really get why you love it on another level.

i definitely need to dance more.

The music I got from Kevin is part of me. Very few painful reminders. Maybe the meds help? I don’t want to be on them forever.

Pat Metheny and Michael Franks are the deities of lazy Sunday mornings of another lifetime. At least they still invoke that feeling in me. It’s comforting.

Oh and it took me far too long to know Tal Wilkenfeld was quoting Metheny. She’s amazingly talented.

The pain of losing life as I knew it is still hard. It’s like a scab that never fully heals. You end up removing the scab randomly and have to let it build up again. Or it’s like finding a scratch on your hand by using hand sanitizer.

I’m learning to live with the scab and leave it alone most of the time. The emotional pain is not as intense. I can be logical about it a little bit.

After midnight? I guess I need to shut down my brain. Or at least stop looking at a screen.

Widowhood Season 6.1: Songs and Tony’s Teens

7/1/21

He’s all up in my playlist today. Stuff I haven’t heard in ages. The songs that comfort and help motivate as I make today’s use of Excel. Macros and Visual Basic, baby. Returning to my programming roots in a 21st Century way. It’s a living.

This season, I have good job satisfaction. Home life is going swimmingly, and It’s the time of year the drive home is with the top down, in my Megan Draper hat. Switched to CD’s cause it’s nice to listen to albums for a change. My Sinatra collection is scratched, and my CD’s are in storage. Yay, Thrift Stores!

I must about, I’ve gotten so spoiled by streaming music. I do love the variety and how the algorithms have introduced me to Louis Prima, turned me on to The Voodoo Glow Skulls new album, and let me find solace in early Genesis. My own Private Radio station, commercial-free and random access. Bliss.

I miss him, really I do. It’s honestly still hard to feel. It stalls me. My whole world, gone. It’s like the last 18 years were a coma dream. I have little physical evidence of that time. Like something out of Blade Runner. I just can’t go there too often. If at all.

Darling will spend Widowhood Anniversary #7 with me, as I spend the day using my health insurance. I really gotta quit with the survivor’s guilt about that. I survived, I worked hard for these benefits in the beginning. I should use them.

Sweetie has been the supporting character who’s appeared in all seasons. Last season, we moved into an apartment. Plus Darling’s first season. Those two are so great for my soul. They say I’m great for theirs too. Amour sans fou rules, rocks, and kicks ass, as I used to say many years ago.

Handmaid’s Tale was good this year. Trauma just leaves holes in the soul that you don’t know how to fill.

Sopranos prequel looks good. I need to find more Mob-themed Anime. I know they’re out there.

The music dazes in and out of my concentration. My thoughts do too.

The Minimoog will always be a part of my soul in small ways. It was in the airwaves in my infancy. I feel like buying one and seeing if I can restore it. Like I have that kind of free time.

So that’s today’s ramblings.

Mostly Narrative Freewriting #8: Friday Night Hardcore Party

Writing this on mobile, forgive me if it goes astray… Gotta start writing this way if I want to write more often. Which I do.

“Do you want to go to a Hardcore Party nearby?” As the cliche goes, that’s the last question I expected of my Sweetie last night. Yet, it was just what the introvert needed.

My Casual Friday clothes were sufficient– Pride shirt, skirt, black knee high socks. Had to dig out my Hello Kitty shoes that have seen better days.

Dinner out. Sushi because Darling, who doesn’t like that cuisine, is with his brother. So it’s a treat to compensate for his absence. (Those triad kisses are so energizing. Love wins, indeed. These two are nothing short of fantastic.)

Mom and Pop sushi restaurants are wonderful to dine in. It was a Pandemic discovery I’m glad survived. Caught a glimpse of the Gymnastics Olympic trials. Mad respect to those women.

How odd to head South on The 5 to go out. Nice area in the good ol’ OC. Not the Orange Curtain of my youth. (Those folks now live in mansions they carved in the hills.) At least the drive is nice, thanks to the carpool lanes.

Some things never change– Friday night, time to dance. In this tiny skate shop filled with people, music is the focus, unlike the establishments down the street who blast music to drink to. (Carry on without me, and we’ll all be happy.) It’s a good mix of the folks whose souls have been fed by this music for over a decade, and the Young Adults of America. And me.

I never did things like attend underground parties when I was young. It’s ok. I’m here now, and Sweetie’s doing something good for his soul. Plus there’s Pokemon Go to play when I go outside for fresh air.

Ah, the Young Americans. Certain looks never go out of style. Happy to be out and see friends again. I could sense recent high school graduates, out for the first time as legal adults who didn’t have a curfew. They were having fun in a diverse crowd.

All the usual experimenting. It’s bring your own, as these events tend to be. I was happy to smoke from my THC pen and let the kids have the cigs, booze, and balloons. Couldn’t help but crack up when I’d hear a balloon pop. That stuff’s not good for the brain, and I don’t like the way it feels. Again, carry on without me. Next time I gotta bring a backpack and things to keep hydrated.

This is not the normal music I listen to, but it’s a chance to see Sweetie happy and in

his element. Speaker worshiping, it’s called. Standing in front of the speakers, letting your whole body absorb the sound waves as you hear music that touches your soul. Greeting someone you know as they join you, and you reconnect in this shared joy. It’s a treat watching Sweetie have moments like this, which have been very rare over the past few years. I can’t help but enable his happiness because he deserves it.

So yes, the dancing! I don’t dance– I move just how I feel. Limited space means small movements I put my whole body into while planted in one spot for as long as I can before I get too hot. At least the dance classes in college still come in handy. So does all that dancing I did against my downstairs hallway walls in my former lifetime. (Walls are good back support for this 40-something. I need dancing shoes and have to remember to keep my eyes open when I move.

I do dance like nobody’s watching. I don’t move my body all that much, other than Tuesday’s Pokemon Go dates, so this is great for me. I sweat tons, both from the cramped space and the dancing. It feels like stress is also oozing out my pores. Losing myself in the beats and moving my body accordingly is second nature to me. It’s just hard to find the space to do so for too long.

I may grab a top to wear just for these occasions to keep cooler. I’ve been more inclined to dress more “girly” as of late. Even have earrings!

The drive home was easy–ever so thankful for carpool lanes! Drafting this in my head, as I’d been taking mental notes all night. I wanted to articulate this experience. These outings are good for me, and I want to keep reminding myself why. After all, there’s a flyer for another one soon.