Wonderland Burlesque's You Gotta Have Friends Quiz - Part I

Wonderland Burlesque's

You Gotta Have Friends Quiz

Part I

"But you got to have friends, the feeling's of so strong.
You got to have friends to make the day last long."

We've got ten questions to get through today. But don't worry, it's very straightforward, very easy.

We're talking about friends. Besties. Buds. Compadres. 

I love walking down memory lane. 

The only rule? None of the answers can be your long term partner or current boyfriend! Yes, we want the info on those who have come and gone from your personal inner circle - so dig a bit deeper, dears.

Let's hop to it. First question...

1/ Who was your best friend in elementary school?

My elementary days are divided in two, due to a move from a farm in one community to a house in a different town. 

Russell was my best bud from kindergarten through third grade. We stayed in touch, seeing each other on occasion until we were seniors in high school. I adored him. He lived on a big farm and his grandparents lived in a house adjacent to the woods that bordered their property. I loved visiting him, although I don't recall ever returning the favor. Watching Shazam in our PJs on Saturday mornings while wrestling around? A cherished memory.

Once I moved into town, I still had a thing for farm boys. Merlin was my bestie then. He sat behind me in fourth grade. He was shy and sweet and I adored him. I had experienced a total personality change with the recent move. I'd gone from a grubby, sweaty roustabout to an introverted academic. My grades improved dramatically, but my self esteem suffered. Suddenly, I was the ugly duckling that did not belong. Merlin, a farm boy, was kind enough to be my friend and would remain so until high school. 

2/ Who was your best friend in high school?

Randy, also a farm boy, was an amazing person. Bright, generous, easy-going, creative, technically savvy and mad about rock and roll. We spent so many hours listening to music, discussing music, and, eventually, playing music (he learned bass and drums.) He was in my first two bands. We experienced 'punk' together.

He was so kind to me. Always had my back, keeping the bullies at bay. In hindsight, I see all this. At the time? I was oblivious. I had no clue how the world worked. Too busy naval gazing.

We would have a falling out in college, when I abruptly broke the lease on a house we were renting. I was falling apart, at the time. Had I remained under that roof, I think I might have done myself in. It was a painful time and I never shared any of what I was going through, because that simply wasn't done back then. So, Randy had no clue and I've never had the opportunity to tell him why I abruptly left.

3/ Who was your best friend in college?

Which time? Honestly? Like colleges, I didn't stick with friends very long. A lot of intense theatre-based friendships were formed in the early days.

The second time I went back, I met my dear friend, Roxy. She remained in my life (and in my corner) for many, many years, coming to my rescue a number of times - particularly when I returned, quite ill, from L.A. She offered me shelter and respite. We laughed a lot. 

She was a lesbian and when I first said hello to her in a philosophy class, her guard was up something fierce. But I kept smiling and eventually she thawed. We became as thick as thieves. 

But there was always something that separated us and it is only recently that I have isolated what it was. She came from a very privileged background. In comparison, I was white trash. Her life and career always operated on a plane that I didn't have access to. Her friends, never became my friends, because I was not cut from the same clothe. 

We haven't spoken in years. I last saw her (and her partner) at a surprise birthday party The Ex and my mother cooked up. They'd rented  a restaurant and there were way too many people, so I didn't get to spend any quality time with her. My father was still alive at the time, and attended the party, but required a lot of my attention, as he was pretty deep into the abyss that is Alzheimer's. 

I remain very grateful for all Roxy did on my behalf. Her friendship means the world to me.

4/ Who was your first drinking buddy, post college?

Natasha and Eve. 

Natasha was a Russian immigrant who did the windows at the downtown Minneapolis JC Penney. We hit it off because I was always creating displays for the toy and sporting goods department, very much wanting to become a part of her world. She was fearless. And a bit scary. She would take me to Moby Dicks, which was this biker's dive on Hennepin Avenue. A lot of heroine and money was trading hands there. She reveled in my wide-eyed innocence when faced with total debauchery and would buy me drinks. After helping her decorate her house for a Halloween party, we made out and I could have gone all the way, but I knew she had a boyfriend and, quite frankly, I was scared of them both. 

Our friendship died when she got busted at JCP for stealing. She'd routinely work after the store closed, at which point her boyfriend would drive up to the loading dock and load his car up with stolen merchandise. I never found out what became of her.

Eve was a theatre bud. We were company members in this theatre run by a pair of lesbians which operated like a cult. We had a spirit guide named Raab, who would speak to us through one of the lesbians as she sat at a typewriter. Raab would tell us who to sleep with and who was bad juju and needed to be cut out of our lives. It was nuts. I realize all that now, but back then, I was naïve and wanted to fit in somewhere so badly. 

Eve had recently divorced her high profile lawyer husband and had a taste for the high life. She took me to bars and clubs I had no business standing in. We once attended the ritzy wedding of one of her snobbiest friends dressed as John Lennon and Yoko Ono. I wore a white tux, a holdover from a musical I had done in summer stock! We were outrageous... and the bride loved it.

Eve and I started as best buds and, thanks to the prodding of Raab, became lovers. That's when I completely short-circuited. Our relationship ended in a downtown Minneapolis bar where I created quite the exit scene, breaking up with her in the loudest, most irrational way possible. 

Yeah. Not my best moment.    

5/ Who was/is your longest/most enduring friendship (longest relationship besides partner or a family member?)

Aww, Brent. 

Twenty years. He was my gay mother. My brother in arms. One of my best collaborators. 

We went to hell and back together. Through many moves. 

Oddly, he remained very absent in my life during my darkest days in L.A. - something I hadn't actually realized until recently. 

I was there for him when his father died and when he became involved with a bitch known as 'Tina' while living on South Beach. 

We did a lot of shows together. Oh, we hated each other when we first met. I was everything he despised - uncultured, unworldly... and I thought he was a prissy little queen. Somehow we became besties, sharing everything for years and years. 

It all went south in St. Louis. He was 'in the program' and those were his friends now. I did not fit in. I was loud, obnoxious and very, very forward. Yeah, I did not go over well. He had found his own people - and I was not one of them. I sensed this on some level and, during my last visit, let him have it with both barrels, calling him out on his selfishness. He was cold. And generosity never came easily for him. 

I'm sure his therapist had painted me as a toxic person.

But, the fact is, I saw the writing on the wall and I wanted to hurt him before he rejected me. 

It ended oddly. 

We remained in daily contact for months after. 

But one day he stopped responding to my emails. 

And then, one day, I took the hint and stopped writing. 

Twenty years. Gone.

6/ Ever have a friend who was an ex?

Of course, The Ex is my current best friend, next to The Boyfriend. 

But, this makes me think of Josh.

I've written about him before. We co-owned a collectibles shop on Chicago Avenue. He was a lovely man. Kind. Sweet. 

He had some annoying habits. His fingernails were too long. He smoked. And he ate sardines out of the can. 

I know, small things to complain about. He was beautiful. Tall. Like a Great Dane.

At the time we were a couple, I was still delusional and dedicated to the theatre. So myopic was I, that I failed to be grateful for all that was being given me. I wanted what I wanted and I wanted it quickly. 

I was very mistaken. Our relationship suffered and then, after a theatre debacle, I took the first train out of town, ending up in the middle of fucking Iowa. I thought he would follow. I left him holding the bag - the store. 

He never came to Iowa. And we never really broke up, so much as we both moved on. He was there to see me off the day I flew to L.A. to live happily every after with The Artist. I handed him the keys to my car and said... thanks. See ya!

He remained in my life until his death, which is something I learned about second hand. He was in Seattle then, and I would visit once or twice a year. By that point, he'd fallen so far off the wagon, sobriety had become nothing but a distant memory. I hold myself responsible. 

I did him wrong.

7/ Who is your newest friend (in the flesh?)

My work wife, Melissa. In the last 15 years we have been through a lot together. Had a lot of laughs and shared some tears. She knows a lot about me and there's very little we don't share. 

When her divorce became final, I whisked her away to Cancun for a week. We had a blast. 

She has two kids and I know our friendship is not the highest priority for her, but we remain very close, even though we no longer work side by side. 

We make each other laugh. 

And that is what will keep us together.

8/ Have you ever made an internet friend?

Not really. 

It's very hard. I think sometimes I come on too strong. Over sharing right out of the gate. I get so excited to find someone with similar interests, be it sexual or social or artistic, I scare them into silence. 

At the same time, I am a very private person. Good luck getting facetime with me. I like to hide on the edges, not unlike a troll under a bridge.

Though I don't bite. 

Unless you ask me to.

9/ Do you have a friend you miss?

Josh. Kindest, sweetest man. Big eyes. He was like a Great Dane. He was 6'4" or maybe 6' 5". Loved his nose. 

But, it's his heart and wisdom I miss the most. He served as great counsel. And today, I am finally in a place where I would listen to him. 

I just want to hug him one last time. 

And tell him how much he is loved. 

10/ Do you have a friend who is also a family member?

My youngest sister.

We laugh. And celebrate everything.

Oh, my. I do not understand why she has put up with me all these years or what she sees in me, but she has always been my fiercest, most loyal friend. No one has ever had my back the way she has. 

That's why I plan on moving wherever she is once I retire. I want her around on a daily basis. We're good for each other, always plotting and planning things. 

I have no idea what the future holds, but... if I hook my wagon to hers? I am sure to have a lovely time.

--- ---

And that's enough of me.

Your turn. You know what to do. Leave your answers in the comments section, or post on your blog and leave a link here. Either way, I love getting to know you better.

Part II, next week. 

Until then...

Thanks for reading... and sharing!

What About Your Friends? - TLC

 Best Friend - Sofi Tukker 

feat. NERVO, The Knocks & Alisa Ueno

Gray Matters

Something is wrong with my brain.  It’s not firing like it should.  I feel like some of the wiring has gotten all crossed, something’s shorted out, and there’s a dead circuit somewhere. 

I want to blame it on the weather.  We’ve had weeks and weeks of colder than normal, gray days where the cloud cover has been so intense that sunlight seems like a thing of yore. 

It’s affected my ability to write – as in, I ain’t. 

While I managed to finally finish Chapter 15 (of 30) of my second novel (it took me five months), I haven’t the slightest inclination to tackle the next one.  Which is strange.  The first novel?  I wrote a chapter a week, as if each Friday was a deadline and I enjoyed the hell out of it, while the second in the series was churned out in a similar fashion, that is, until Chapter 15. 

But it’s not only the books. 

Now, even writing anything for Wonderland Burlesque has become something of a chore.  I’ve been skating by, leaning heavily on Sean over at TMI Questions for content and doing a series of pop music reviews each month.  It could be the move away from explicit, adult oriented material, but I think the issue may be something bigger picture.  I feel like a wind up toy that's run out of steam.

Something has changed, and I’m not happy about it.

I blame my brain.

Work has ramped up in the last month, which is good, on one hand, but a tad stressful on the other. 

Still, that does not account for the amount of free-floating anxiety I am dealing with.  

It might have to do with the one-eighty turn my life has taken.  Things have finally settled down into a routine and most of the people in my life have resumed their regular personalities, having moved onto acceptance.  Though every once in a while a pinprick of shock arises, even I have relaxed enough to convince myself that my circumstances are now the new norm.

There is comfort to be found in ruts, routine, and predictability.  I think I’m a bit happier when I can operate from a place that feels secure.  And while I know that I’m only fooling myself and that all things are subject to change, the basics of life: where we live, what we do, who we see… those are typically things people can count on. 

Only I can’t.

There isn’t a single person in my life right now where I feel the relationship is ‘stable’, by which I mean, there isn’t anyone I can confide in right now.  Not completely.  I have to constantly censor myself – I can’t talk to this one about that person, and I can’t talk to that person about this thing… etc.

I feel mummified.  And terrified of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. 

So, in a way, I’ve placed all my thoughts (and feelings) on mute.

Which might explain why writing has become such a chore lately; it’s hard to be creative when you’re operating from a place of insecurity and self-censorship.

It’s affected my sleep. 

This week I started taking something to help me.  I only wake up three or four times a night when I take a pill, as opposed to the dozen or so that’s become typical.  I don’t like taking them, but I’m feeling rather desperate for a reasonable night’s sleep.

The anxiety? 

Could be guilt. 

Six months later, I still feel bad about how hurt everyone has been feeling.  Even my relationship with my number one person, my youngest sister, seems to have changed.  She was recently elected to the city council where she lives, something we normally would have celebrated, but she didn’t even mention it – I had to find out second hand, and that’s simply not how we operate with one another. 

Maybe it will all pass with more time… like the cloud cover and this less than wonderful weather.  Maybe that kind of gray really matters.  A little sun can do a body (and brain) wonders…

Fingers crossed.

Have a great weekend!

TMI Questions: Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

In grade school I used to love cutting out giant construction-paper shamrocks and filling the bulletin board with them.  I think the shape is so beautiful and soft.  And I loved the way the scissors would cut into the paper with a decisive crunch.  I may have to buy some safety scissors and green construction paper just to recreate that sensation.

Eh, no.  Some things live better in memory.

I’ve never found a four leaf clover.  Have you?  I’ve certainly looked for them.  There was a time when I truly did believe that they would grant me good luck.  I also believed in leprechauns, so I ate a lot of Lucky Charms growing up (when we could afford it).

Unfortunately, I’ve never been a very lucky person.  That kind of fate / destiny thing has simply eluded me for most of my life.  I’m way more likely to come in second place than to be declared an actual winner.  That’s okay, I’ve made my peace with it.

Therefore, I know I’m not Irish, because I was never blessed with their luck. Those of you that were?  I do envy you.  Obviously, based on how my life has played out, I was meant to learn a different lesson this trip around. 

But you know what?  Fools get lucky.  At least that’s what the song tells me.  And based on certain relatively recent events in my life…

…I rather believe it.

TMI QUESTIONS:

Questions designed to reveal Too Much Information

Link: http://tmiquestions.blogspot.com/

TMI Questions: Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Do you have any Irish in you? Would you like some?

My father claimed to be part Irish, but in reality, he was Native American and German / English.  My mother is a 100% Bohunk!  It made for an interesting, rather explosive pair. 

While I support the rights of others to enjoy themselves, this holiday has never spoken to me much, so I’ve never really celebrated it.  Seems to me to merely be an excuse to drink to excess, and I hate being around that.  That… that is not pretty.

The Irish, on the other hand?  Very pretty.  Amazing skin.  And there’s something mystical in their eyes.  Also, their coloring is so unique – like an over-exposed photograph or something.  I find it quite captivating.

Looking at my boyfriend, you would think he was Irish, and he may well have a bit in him.  He tells me he is of the Heinz 57 variety - a little bit of everything thrown in.  It certainly looks good on him.

So would a kilt.

Or a singlet.

Hmmm.  (Checking credit card balance…)

Do you wear green?

Yes, but not much.  It’s not my color.  Rather washes me out. 

That said, it is one of my favorite colors.  There’s a lot of strength to be found there, and I tend to associate it with cleanliness and good health. 

Though, I am told it’s not easy being green… just ask Kermit.

That song?  It meant a lot to me in the day.  I knew exactly what it meant, as did every other born-gay, odd, ‘weirdo’, outcast child. 

I wish someone would have told me it got better. As it was, I developed a rather fatalistic outlook on life, one that continues to color much of my life today.

I was obsessed with Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and the like.  Oh, I’ve let go a lot of it.  I used to think dying when you were young was so glamorous.  That kind of fame, something to be aspired to, but now I see it as a not-so-wise career choice. 

Someone really should have told Marilyn that it gets better. 

And James to slow the fuck down.

Green beer is...

Not my thing.  Why would you do that to something you want to drink?  I find dyes to be unnecessary and avoid any food that is bright and not a color found in nature, especially those bright purple things.  Ugh.

Not to be ‘that guy’, but it was announced recently that cancer will soon surpass heart disease as the number one killer.  I believe our food supply is one of the contributing factors to that.  You can’t mess with the natural state of things and not pay for it somehow.

Of course you can’t hug your children with nuclear arms, either.   That’s from a ‘Family Guy’ episode.  I’m rather in favor of nuclear energy – cheap, efficient, etc.  Of course the down side is we all end up with our skin falling off. 

Oh, well… might as well drink a beer full of green dye #3.

Yeah, ummm… this entry is gonna be full of random shit. 

Irish coffee is...

Not bad.  But not necessary.  Bailey’s is yummy and a favorite of my boyfriend. 

In general, I do not like sweet anything, but there is a rich smokiness I associate with Bailey’s that I find comforting.

I like my coffee black. 

Frequently, simplicity is best.

Have you worn a kilt?

No.  I don’t have the legs for it.  You need big sturdy thighs and calves like a man of steel to get away with them.  I don’t have ‘em.  And fortunately, for other people, I have never been cast in any show that require the wearing of one.  What would that be?  Brigadoon?  Terrible musical.

I thought only Scotsmen wore kilts.  Obviously, I am mistaken.  The difference is: Scots wear kilts in the color and pattern of their clan, while the Irish wear ones that are plain colored or in colors that represent their locale.

I do like kilts on others.

That said, my boyfriend would look smashing in one and I’ve told him so.  Someday I plan on purchasing one and making him wear it, maybe in public. 

He certainly has the legs for it.

Grrr.

Lucky me.

Have you gone to the NY St. Patrick's Day Parade?

Nope.  I’ve never seen any St. Patrick’s ‘Day Parade. 

I lost interest in the idea of any St. Patrick’s Day Parade when a group of gay Irish folks were prevented from marching.  Was that in Boston?  I was glad to see the Mayor of that city take a stand this year on their behalf.  Not sure if there has been any resolution there, but I do know that the New York one does not discriminate.

Anyway… I can’t imagine it would be any fun.  Sort of like St. Paul’s Winter Carnival parade; a bunch of drunken louts terrorizing the neighborhood.  I can stand only so many leprechauns and shamrocks before they all start looking alike to me. 

Also, if I want to spend time with a bunch of drunken louts, I’ll simply attend one of my family reunions.  Or a high school reunion.

Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.

St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland with a stick. How would you handle snakes?

I would hire Barry White to come and croon them into submission.  He is the pied piper of hissing, volatile reptiles.  At least… that’s how it worked on The Simpsons.   Not sure how Lisa Simpson figured it out, but it sure did the trick. 

Other than that… I care not for the snakes.  Snakes have done me no harm…

…except for that whole apple and Eve thing.  I guess that really fucked us all over pretty good, huh?  I mean, imagine living in paradise. 

But then, we all couldn’t.  I mean, Adam and Eve didn’t figure out the whole procreation thing until after they ate the apple.  So, in all likelihood paradise was designed with only two in mind.  Otherwise, it would become over-populated and we would have polluted our own environment like microorganisms in a petri dish. 

Yep.  Lots of random shit.

Bonus

I'm 100% Irish. Would you kiss me?

Pucker up, Sean.  

I would love the opportunity to taste all your handsome, bearded, gingery goodness, Sean.  I’d plant one on you like you were the Blarney Stone and I was in desperate need of some luck. 

Of course, I am also still waiting on that semi-nude photo of you… so I won’t be holding my breath.  Or saving any of my kisses.

Not that you could have any of the serious kisses.  No, all those belong to someone else, now.  I’m not sure if he brings me luck, but I am a lot happier, feel a lot luckier, and do get lucky more frequently, these days.  All with a lot less anxiety.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls, am I right?  Or, in this case, rainbows with that pot of gold at the end of it.  

Which I do believe exist, because…

…pretty certain I’ve found my ‘pot of gold’. 

Happy Saint Pat’s Day!