Edith had spent some of Thursday night (RKSK initiation 2k12) in a U-Haul with over 100 naked bodies in it, so I was concerned that the heat and sweat in the Wonder Ballroom would bring on flashbacks. We all felt like we were about to faint anyways.The lights were disorienting on the sheer film that followed Amanda Palmer's body over the crowd as she sang "Bottom Feeder" above our heads.
The best part was that they played "Astronaut" off Who Killed Amanda Palmer and it made so much sense all of the sudden. I was half delirious from this cold that I can't kick and the sleep that I didn't get, but somehow the energy of the show transcended the dehydration and exhaustion and all the little stresses and the world broke down into Art, Intensity, Gimmick, and Show. Sort of out of my mind but being pushed back into it constantly. I'm not sure how to describe it. As I said, delirious.
We raced back to the car, making crazed noises and relishing the September air. Cool wind slipped up and down the wedding dress that I had cut into a shirt, quickly drying the sweat that covered it uniformly. We were energized as much by our escape from the human powered sauna as the fantastic show we had all shared.
Back in the car, my driving took a look at the adjective "exemplary," spun it's pencil around erased it vigorously. We were winding through streets taking wide turns, looking for a place that was open at 2 in the morning to sell us liquid, any liquid, while drumming the steering wheel to the beat of "The Killing Type." A Safeway? More like a Saviorway! We worried that it was closed. We saw movement, plus there were still pumpkins outside, it can't be closed. We tore into the largely deserted parking lot and scampered out of the car. As we approached the doors I said "If it's closed, I'm going to steal a pumpkin."
It was closed.
We turned around and I knelt to grasp a prickly green stem. "Run guys."
Into the car, the pumpkin joined Amy in the back seat, seatbelts on (safety first), and out of the parking lot, back onto Hawthorne Blvd, ready to continue the quest for whistle-wetters with our new companion pumpkin.
The next driveway was a knock-off 7-11 type of thing. Destiny.
We entered through the automatic doors, our faces contorted with desperate need and nefarious victory. It's hard to describe what those people saw. Three girls, one with brown hair crimped into a mess, another with a dirty blond bowl cut, and a third small Asian wearing a bright green wig tumble in from a car covered in patches and spray painted flames. Respectively, they are wearing the top half of a wedding dress and a skirt made of scraps of velvet tied together, a white lace shirt and velvet skirt pinned into amorphousness, and a teensy shiny gold dress with a huge belt, held up by a few purple ribbons laced across her chest. The first had an arm of paint in green and yellow swirls with black bars across them, the second had primary colors all over her left eye, her chest and her stomach in patterns that almost looked like birds. Finally, Edith's arms were fruits, veggies, trees, and roses. Mushrooms grew in a two dimensional orange and black patch on her shin. Maybe they saw us as wholes, but I saw us as a compilation of little things. Neither party, not the real and or the imagined, understood.
But we made an impression. As we bought quantities of juice, a pair who were buying beer inquired as to our appearance/behavior and invited us back to their party. We followed their truck and chugged the spoils of our monetary exchange with the cashier, who had also been invited.
The party was bizarre. We tried to gift them our pumpkin but they ignored us. Then Dutch showed up, an acro person I recognized from fair. The world is small. We colored on the pumpkin a little bit, and then we were bored enough to leave, back to Reed house parties.
Hotboxxx or Gun Club, Hotboxxx or Gun Club... HOTBOXXX. So we went to that house, which was going to be more talking and less shitshow. But apparently 2:30 am is after the parties are over in lames-ville Mc-Reedland. Just kidding! 4 people on a couch is also a party, often a better party.
Still we talked and admired everyone's clothing and listened to people complain about their sex lives. I stayed to cuddle with Zosha while Amy and Edith went back to Reed to eat truffle infused eggs.
We finally let the house go to sleep at 3 in the morning. Walking back to my car I realized I forgot my pumpkin, so I ran back up a steep flight of stairs to retrieve it. Crossing the street again, I was struck by the poetry of the straight double yellow lines, so I took my orange prize above my head and threw it straight down the center, expecting a splat.
Instead of exploding on the asphalt, the pumpkin rolled for almost a block. "What are you doing Julia?" "Chasing my pumpkin!"
Back at Chittick, I insist that we sacrifice it in the canyon. First Edith and Amy get a taste for chucking it, because it was strangely rewarding to watch it make contact with concrete and roll off without a hint of injury. Then we marched halfway across the Blue Bridge, illuminated in its typical creepy cyan glow under a full moon. We yelled and trilled our tongues, building to a climax when I let the pumpkin fall into the black water 30 feet below us.
Then we went to sleep.
The best part was that they played "Astronaut" off Who Killed Amanda Palmer and it made so much sense all of the sudden. I was half delirious from this cold that I can't kick and the sleep that I didn't get, but somehow the energy of the show transcended the dehydration and exhaustion and all the little stresses and the world broke down into Art, Intensity, Gimmick, and Show. Sort of out of my mind but being pushed back into it constantly. I'm not sure how to describe it. As I said, delirious.
We raced back to the car, making crazed noises and relishing the September air. Cool wind slipped up and down the wedding dress that I had cut into a shirt, quickly drying the sweat that covered it uniformly. We were energized as much by our escape from the human powered sauna as the fantastic show we had all shared.
Back in the car, my driving took a look at the adjective "exemplary," spun it's pencil around erased it vigorously. We were winding through streets taking wide turns, looking for a place that was open at 2 in the morning to sell us liquid, any liquid, while drumming the steering wheel to the beat of "The Killing Type." A Safeway? More like a Saviorway! We worried that it was closed. We saw movement, plus there were still pumpkins outside, it can't be closed. We tore into the largely deserted parking lot and scampered out of the car. As we approached the doors I said "If it's closed, I'm going to steal a pumpkin."
It was closed.
We turned around and I knelt to grasp a prickly green stem. "Run guys."
Into the car, the pumpkin joined Amy in the back seat, seatbelts on (safety first), and out of the parking lot, back onto Hawthorne Blvd, ready to continue the quest for whistle-wetters with our new companion pumpkin.
The next driveway was a knock-off 7-11 type of thing. Destiny.
We entered through the automatic doors, our faces contorted with desperate need and nefarious victory. It's hard to describe what those people saw. Three girls, one with brown hair crimped into a mess, another with a dirty blond bowl cut, and a third small Asian wearing a bright green wig tumble in from a car covered in patches and spray painted flames. Respectively, they are wearing the top half of a wedding dress and a skirt made of scraps of velvet tied together, a white lace shirt and velvet skirt pinned into amorphousness, and a teensy shiny gold dress with a huge belt, held up by a few purple ribbons laced across her chest. The first had an arm of paint in green and yellow swirls with black bars across them, the second had primary colors all over her left eye, her chest and her stomach in patterns that almost looked like birds. Finally, Edith's arms were fruits, veggies, trees, and roses. Mushrooms grew in a two dimensional orange and black patch on her shin. Maybe they saw us as wholes, but I saw us as a compilation of little things. Neither party, not the real and or the imagined, understood.
But we made an impression. As we bought quantities of juice, a pair who were buying beer inquired as to our appearance/behavior and invited us back to their party. We followed their truck and chugged the spoils of our monetary exchange with the cashier, who had also been invited.
The party was bizarre. We tried to gift them our pumpkin but they ignored us. Then Dutch showed up, an acro person I recognized from fair. The world is small. We colored on the pumpkin a little bit, and then we were bored enough to leave, back to Reed house parties.
Hotboxxx or Gun Club, Hotboxxx or Gun Club... HOTBOXXX. So we went to that house, which was going to be more talking and less shitshow. But apparently 2:30 am is after the parties are over in lames-ville Mc-Reedland. Just kidding! 4 people on a couch is also a party, often a better party.
Still we talked and admired everyone's clothing and listened to people complain about their sex lives. I stayed to cuddle with Zosha while Amy and Edith went back to Reed to eat truffle infused eggs.
We finally let the house go to sleep at 3 in the morning. Walking back to my car I realized I forgot my pumpkin, so I ran back up a steep flight of stairs to retrieve it. Crossing the street again, I was struck by the poetry of the straight double yellow lines, so I took my orange prize above my head and threw it straight down the center, expecting a splat.
Instead of exploding on the asphalt, the pumpkin rolled for almost a block. "What are you doing Julia?" "Chasing my pumpkin!"
Back at Chittick, I insist that we sacrifice it in the canyon. First Edith and Amy get a taste for chucking it, because it was strangely rewarding to watch it make contact with concrete and roll off without a hint of injury. Then we marched halfway across the Blue Bridge, illuminated in its typical creepy cyan glow under a full moon. We yelled and trilled our tongues, building to a climax when I let the pumpkin fall into the black water 30 feet below us.
Then we went to sleep.
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