in the past year, i have worked almost exclusively with female-bodied people. all the stamp lab productions i've been in were female save for one gay man. and working at alma de mujer meant very little interactions with men regularly except for talking with contractors. so when i found myself standing with four men when we decided groups during compositions class, i was both apprehensive and excited. "this will be good for you," said a couple folks, including myself.
it's been fascinating. not only are they all men, they are all white men. two american college boys, one canadian and one from portugal. save for the one time when i firmly confronted one of them when he ran out of rehearsal to talk with someone in the hallway ("you drive me crazy! i feel really disrespected when you do that!"-- "oh, i am so sorry!"), most of my fighting has been within myself.
because working with men has brought many of my personal insecurities to the fore. partly because i've been battling those insecurities all along (i keep thinking, why did they accept ME?), but also because men (at least these men) don't really work to make sure everyone is okay, because they think that everyone SHOULD be okay. and i know that if i were to show specifically that i'm not okay, as i did for one discussion, they would meet it head on. i also have been working against an insecurity that what i have to say is fundamentally insignificant, but everything i've said has been met with openness and attention.
there are many reasons why i tend to work with female-bodied people. sometimes it's that our politics are aligned. or that, as a dyke, i tend to favor the company of other dykes and work out of that. but a lot of it is about degrees of comfort. and there is a certain shorthand that i can rely upon when working with female-bodied folks, especially female-bodied people of color.
but as productive as that comfort can be, it can lead to assumptions and misunderstandings and all-out conflict, just like anywhere else. sometimes the initial closeness makes the eventual conflict that much more painful.
what i'm learning on a very fundamental level is that really i can collaborate with anyone. and that anyone can collaborate with anyone. but what insures the collaboration actually happening is when the group decides to commit to the work and commit to each other. i've loved stamp lab because of that dual commitment. when we decide a narrative arch, casting, or aesthetic details, everyone thinks about "the work." when someone has an idea or a problem, we commit to believing that she does it for "the work" and to seeing her approach, even if we don't agree.
and even though the looks and shapes of the work i'm doing here is radically different, at the core, i still feel that commitment to the work and commitment to each other, and so i'm warmed and inspired--as slow-going and frustrating as it can be.
since i decided i wanted to be in performance for the remainder of my life, i have endeavored to pursue the frightening, the awkward, the uncomfortable. and this intensive is just pushing me to even more extreme levels of fear, awkwardness and discomfort than i had imagined. it is impossible to remain unchanged.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
on SITI summer-part two OR revelations on my body being of this world
today, i cried during morning warm-ups.
i woke at 7, ate breakfast and then did morning pages. i was sore and had very little sleep. i'm coming down with a cold. i was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. so when i arrived to the studio, i was in a place of feeling beaten down. like it took every fiber of my being to get out of bed and do some type of ritual. i was super vigilant and disciplined because if i hadn't been, i would not have made it to class. but i was fine.
or so i thought. i had just started stretching when barney (a SITI company member, and the teacher for that class) started playing bach's well-tempered clavier. i smiled and mumbled, "ah, bach." but then i felt this welling come from the pit of my stomach up my throat and out my eyes. before i knew it, tears were streaming down my face and one of the lovely australian women in the program was coming up to me and asking me if i was okay.
it was a cognitive glitch. i always listen to bach when i'm feeling on the verge of depression or frightened. arriving at class, i was hard and closed, trying to maintain my discipline and ignore my pain. but the bach sparked an emotional trigger of comfort and self-care that was too visceral and overwhelming to ignore. in short, i was confused. my mind was telling me that everything was fine (and it was, in a way), but my body and spirit and emotions were telling me that things were far from right (and they were). so i cried. and the only thing that i kept hearing in my head was: this is so hard.
and weeping helped me see that fact. by letting the pain and the doubt flow through me, i moved past it. whole and intact albeit exhausted and spent.
a lot about our training is about fear, pain, and even mortality. there is a moment when we stomp during suzuki class--every time i do it, in fact--when i literally feel like i am going to die. i actually believe that i will somehow cease living. the muscle pain and intensity is so strong that all i can do is concentrate on not letting myself die. and then--quite miraculously--that exercise ends, and i am alive and whole. often, i'm euphoric from somehow escaping the jaws of death.
this is what SITI summer seems to be about. moments in suzuki where the legs are trembling from physical limitations, viewpoints sessions where keeping up feels impossible, doing a compositions assignment that has so many stipulations, it would take at least a month--in a week. these have all made me feel like i'm going to die. like i'm going to crash and burn. like i will fail miserably. but then i don't. there are many failures along the way, but the resistence to death--both physically and metaphorically--pushes us out the other side with a new sense of purpose and spirituality. it's an acknowledgment that every moment we continue to live, we are actually cheating death.
anne bogart talks about how the creative process is violently destructive. how for every decision an artist makes, she is killing a myriad of possibilities. this tends to lead to stasis and creative block: we don't want to "kill our babies." and so it makes sense that our work here seems to bring us in very close proximity to destruction, but ultimately leads to amazing creative discoveries.
some of my fellow trainees still seem to be unscathed by what i see as this proximity to death. maybe they are tougher. maybe they are in denial. maybe they are not actually of this world. i, however, emphatically am.
i woke at 7, ate breakfast and then did morning pages. i was sore and had very little sleep. i'm coming down with a cold. i was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. so when i arrived to the studio, i was in a place of feeling beaten down. like it took every fiber of my being to get out of bed and do some type of ritual. i was super vigilant and disciplined because if i hadn't been, i would not have made it to class. but i was fine.
or so i thought. i had just started stretching when barney (a SITI company member, and the teacher for that class) started playing bach's well-tempered clavier. i smiled and mumbled, "ah, bach." but then i felt this welling come from the pit of my stomach up my throat and out my eyes. before i knew it, tears were streaming down my face and one of the lovely australian women in the program was coming up to me and asking me if i was okay.
it was a cognitive glitch. i always listen to bach when i'm feeling on the verge of depression or frightened. arriving at class, i was hard and closed, trying to maintain my discipline and ignore my pain. but the bach sparked an emotional trigger of comfort and self-care that was too visceral and overwhelming to ignore. in short, i was confused. my mind was telling me that everything was fine (and it was, in a way), but my body and spirit and emotions were telling me that things were far from right (and they were). so i cried. and the only thing that i kept hearing in my head was: this is so hard.
and weeping helped me see that fact. by letting the pain and the doubt flow through me, i moved past it. whole and intact albeit exhausted and spent.
a lot about our training is about fear, pain, and even mortality. there is a moment when we stomp during suzuki class--every time i do it, in fact--when i literally feel like i am going to die. i actually believe that i will somehow cease living. the muscle pain and intensity is so strong that all i can do is concentrate on not letting myself die. and then--quite miraculously--that exercise ends, and i am alive and whole. often, i'm euphoric from somehow escaping the jaws of death.
this is what SITI summer seems to be about. moments in suzuki where the legs are trembling from physical limitations, viewpoints sessions where keeping up feels impossible, doing a compositions assignment that has so many stipulations, it would take at least a month--in a week. these have all made me feel like i'm going to die. like i'm going to crash and burn. like i will fail miserably. but then i don't. there are many failures along the way, but the resistence to death--both physically and metaphorically--pushes us out the other side with a new sense of purpose and spirituality. it's an acknowledgment that every moment we continue to live, we are actually cheating death.
anne bogart talks about how the creative process is violently destructive. how for every decision an artist makes, she is killing a myriad of possibilities. this tends to lead to stasis and creative block: we don't want to "kill our babies." and so it makes sense that our work here seems to bring us in very close proximity to destruction, but ultimately leads to amazing creative discoveries.
some of my fellow trainees still seem to be unscathed by what i see as this proximity to death. maybe they are tougher. maybe they are in denial. maybe they are not actually of this world. i, however, emphatically am.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
on SITI summer-part one
greetings from saratoga springs!
thanks to everyone's donations and a bit of support from the city of austin, i managed to raise enough funds for siti. i've been here since sunday. it's been an exciting experience. 61 "theatre-makers" of different kinds, coming from literally around the globe (28 are from abroad) to train rigorously for about 8 hours a day and make some pieces together.
it's only day two and already my body is revolting.
yesterday was relatively physically easy. viewpoints consisted of introductions. and composition class was all about exercises for "making" and directing, not so much physical activity. so it was only the hour and a half of suzuki. which did scare me for a second, when i thought my legs would literally fall out from under me from pure exhaustion.
but today was very different. viewpoints was mostly running. for an hour and a half. running and doing things in unison. but i could do viewpoints for hours. and then suzuki, which had me sweating and panting. the afternoon was speaking and breathing. easy, right? no. for "speaking," we had to learn dance moves and hold prop sword and swing them very fast. and for "breathing," we did suzuki stomps yet again.
my quads, groin, and glutes are very, very sore. arnica is my friend. and i have a blister waiting to pop on my big toe. lovely.
and then i met with my compositions group (all men, incidentally--how exotic!) for two hours after dinner.
this may all sound like complaints. but i assure you, this is what i'm here for, and i'm happy to report that it is exactly what i want to be doing. the pain is, well, pain. but it's an instructive and constructive pain. i'm learning my limits and being lovingly yet forcefully pushed to extend them. and there is a certain euphoria after crouching and stomping and "connecting with the ground" for hours. yes.
awesome.
thanks to everyone's donations and a bit of support from the city of austin, i managed to raise enough funds for siti. i've been here since sunday. it's been an exciting experience. 61 "theatre-makers" of different kinds, coming from literally around the globe (28 are from abroad) to train rigorously for about 8 hours a day and make some pieces together.
it's only day two and already my body is revolting.
yesterday was relatively physically easy. viewpoints consisted of introductions. and composition class was all about exercises for "making" and directing, not so much physical activity. so it was only the hour and a half of suzuki. which did scare me for a second, when i thought my legs would literally fall out from under me from pure exhaustion.
but today was very different. viewpoints was mostly running. for an hour and a half. running and doing things in unison. but i could do viewpoints for hours. and then suzuki, which had me sweating and panting. the afternoon was speaking and breathing. easy, right? no. for "speaking," we had to learn dance moves and hold prop sword and swing them very fast. and for "breathing," we did suzuki stomps yet again.
my quads, groin, and glutes are very, very sore. arnica is my friend. and i have a blister waiting to pop on my big toe. lovely.
and then i met with my compositions group (all men, incidentally--how exotic!) for two hours after dinner.
this may all sound like complaints. but i assure you, this is what i'm here for, and i'm happy to report that it is exactly what i want to be doing. the pain is, well, pain. but it's an instructive and constructive pain. i'm learning my limits and being lovingly yet forcefully pushed to extend them. and there is a certain euphoria after crouching and stomping and "connecting with the ground" for hours. yes.
awesome.
Monday, March 23, 2009
on asking for help
dear readers, i am asking you to help me.
i got into SITI summer, which is awesome! directed by Anne Bogart, SITI is at the forefront of physical and ensemble-based theatre. SITI summer focuses on Bogart's "Viewpoints" method, as well as her "Compositions" technique for creating original work, and Suzuki Actor Training. as a performer and director, this opportunity will enrich my craft and knowledge. (for more info on SITI summer go here.)
thing is, i'm broke. if i want to pay for tuition, room, board, getting there, and making up for money i won't make while i'm attending, i need to raise serious $$$. i have plans for fundraising, but even after getting money from the city of austin, my dad, etc. i still don't have quite enough.
yet!
i'm asking all my friends on email, facebook, my blog, and twitter to help me get to SITI summer! i humbly ask for a modest contribution of $10-$50. if all my contacts give me $10, i'm very close to paying all my tuition! if half my contacts give me $20, well, same thing! and so on.
if you would like to make a contribution, you can send it via paypal below:
or send a check made out to "katherine shorb" to:
2906 glen rae st
Austin, TX 78702
in return, i offer the following:
$10-$29 donation: a 5X8 postcard with original calligraphy by yours truly (see examples of my calligraphy here.)
$30-$49 donation: a postcard and a signed copy of the script to my solo show: "of chicks, dicks, and chinks."
$50+ donation: a postcard and a signed DVD of my award-winning experimental short: "task/in-progress"
please include a mailing address with your contribution.
your donation is an investment in art. it offers many returns.
i got into SITI summer, which is awesome! directed by Anne Bogart, SITI is at the forefront of physical and ensemble-based theatre. SITI summer focuses on Bogart's "Viewpoints" method, as well as her "Compositions" technique for creating original work, and Suzuki Actor Training. as a performer and director, this opportunity will enrich my craft and knowledge. (for more info on SITI summer go here.)
thing is, i'm broke. if i want to pay for tuition, room, board, getting there, and making up for money i won't make while i'm attending, i need to raise serious $$$. i have plans for fundraising, but even after getting money from the city of austin, my dad, etc. i still don't have quite enough.
yet!
i'm asking all my friends on email, facebook, my blog, and twitter to help me get to SITI summer! i humbly ask for a modest contribution of $10-$50. if all my contacts give me $10, i'm very close to paying all my tuition! if half my contacts give me $20, well, same thing! and so on.
if you would like to make a contribution, you can send it via paypal below:
or send a check made out to "katherine shorb" to:
2906 glen rae st
Austin, TX 78702
in return, i offer the following:
$10-$29 donation: a 5X8 postcard with original calligraphy by yours truly (see examples of my calligraphy here.)
$30-$49 donation: a postcard and a signed copy of the script to my solo show: "of chicks, dicks, and chinks."
$50+ donation: a postcard and a signed DVD of my award-winning experimental short: "task/in-progress"
please include a mailing address with your contribution.
your donation is an investment in art. it offers many returns.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
on opportunity, doubt, money, and life
what happens when the thing you've been wanting and waiting for for almost a year becomes *this close* to happening, but there are two things standing in your way: money and time?
i was accepted to SITI summer for this year. a year ago, when i spoke to the director of my solo show, friend and co-artistic director of the rude mechanicals, madge darlington, the first thing she told me was to do SITI. at that point, it was just not possible, the application deadline had passed. so i went to vancouver instead. which was fabulous. but really only a taste of the techniques and methods i wanted to learn.
since then, i've co-won two theatre awards, acted in two plays, a short film and directed a play. and now i've been accepted to SITI. all my theatre friends are super excited for me. it is, in fact, a big opportunity. and not one that is completely common. i was looking at the resume of scott turner schofield. he's one of those performers who gets enough gigs to support himself with art full-time. a tranny boy with income, if you will. he's done SITI.
i'm having trouble trying not to think it was some kind of clerical error. i mean, i've really only been doing this a minute. at the same time, anne bogart's (that's the director of SITI) who thing is that she is all about the inter-disciplinary. she always uses music and film as inspiration. or as part of theory. so maybe it's not such a mystery why they accepted me. i am a discipinary whore.
thing is. now's a tough time... i'm broke ass. and i still haven't won the lotto. the whole institute costs over $3000. which includes room and board. but still. and then, i have a mortgage. and i won't be making money while i'm stomping and viewpoint-ing. so. that means that in order to get to saratoga springs, pay for the institute, room and board, and my own mortgage, i would have to raise at least $4500. $5000, to be safe...
it's one thing to desire something. it's another to actually go and get it/do it. there are always complications that beg the question: what is your commitment? is this for real, or were you only having fancies about your glam life?
and what of this glam life? i've been an on-again-off-again artist since college. i've never felt particularly glamorous. seems that people see artsy life as such. maybe it is. or maybe i should let it be.
why is it that every time i accomplish something, i can't enjoy it? i'm always thinking about the down side. i get into SITI, i have to raise the money. i get a grant for the opera, i have to
raise a match. i get an award for a show, i have to split it with people.
what's up with that?!
(deargod: pleasehelpmemakesenseofthisandthejoyofmydesiring)
i was accepted to SITI summer for this year. a year ago, when i spoke to the director of my solo show, friend and co-artistic director of the rude mechanicals, madge darlington, the first thing she told me was to do SITI. at that point, it was just not possible, the application deadline had passed. so i went to vancouver instead. which was fabulous. but really only a taste of the techniques and methods i wanted to learn.
since then, i've co-won two theatre awards, acted in two plays, a short film and directed a play. and now i've been accepted to SITI. all my theatre friends are super excited for me. it is, in fact, a big opportunity. and not one that is completely common. i was looking at the resume of scott turner schofield. he's one of those performers who gets enough gigs to support himself with art full-time. a tranny boy with income, if you will. he's done SITI.
i'm having trouble trying not to think it was some kind of clerical error. i mean, i've really only been doing this a minute. at the same time, anne bogart's (that's the director of SITI) who thing is that she is all about the inter-disciplinary. she always uses music and film as inspiration. or as part of theory. so maybe it's not such a mystery why they accepted me. i am a discipinary whore.
thing is. now's a tough time... i'm broke ass. and i still haven't won the lotto. the whole institute costs over $3000. which includes room and board. but still. and then, i have a mortgage. and i won't be making money while i'm stomping and viewpoint-ing. so. that means that in order to get to saratoga springs, pay for the institute, room and board, and my own mortgage, i would have to raise at least $4500. $5000, to be safe...
it's one thing to desire something. it's another to actually go and get it/do it. there are always complications that beg the question: what is your commitment? is this for real, or were you only having fancies about your glam life?
and what of this glam life? i've been an on-again-off-again artist since college. i've never felt particularly glamorous. seems that people see artsy life as such. maybe it is. or maybe i should let it be.
why is it that every time i accomplish something, i can't enjoy it? i'm always thinking about the down side. i get into SITI, i have to raise the money. i get a grant for the opera, i have to
raise a match. i get an award for a show, i have to split it with people.
what's up with that?!
(deargod: pleasehelpmemakesenseofthisandthejoyofmydesiring)
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
on jesus, my work is important! now what do i do?
so. i'm slowly accruing cancer objects. slowly. but each one i get, i feel the gravity of my project deepen more and more.
i received the narrative of one object today. i will be receiving the object itself soon. it came from a person i knew a decade ago. i didn't even know she had cancer. but her 4-page story caught me up. her narrative was so thorough, so precise, so real. as i read it, i felt deeply honored that she took the time to share her experience with her. and that she will impart such a loaded object onto me.
it's a strange process. i've now structured "una corda" in a way that i need participation from others. to get this participation, i need to talk about my piece as significant. but i realize i only partly comprehend how significant it is. because every time a new person contributes to the piece, i think, "wow. my opera is so important. i can't believe i'm doing it."
of course, this gives me anxiety. how can i take this friend's story and objects and respect her contribution while ultimately using my own voice (quite literally)? how do i balance my innate earnestness with my conditioned critical eye and my somewhat wry humor?
then again, this anxiety is necessary. this discomfort. as tennessee williams said, struggle is part of being an artist. he was mainly talking about financial struggle (which, hey, i got that, too!), but i think most inspiring art is fueled by struggle. at least, the art that inspires me.
sometimes, though. it's like hugging a hedgehog.
i received the narrative of one object today. i will be receiving the object itself soon. it came from a person i knew a decade ago. i didn't even know she had cancer. but her 4-page story caught me up. her narrative was so thorough, so precise, so real. as i read it, i felt deeply honored that she took the time to share her experience with her. and that she will impart such a loaded object onto me.
it's a strange process. i've now structured "una corda" in a way that i need participation from others. to get this participation, i need to talk about my piece as significant. but i realize i only partly comprehend how significant it is. because every time a new person contributes to the piece, i think, "wow. my opera is so important. i can't believe i'm doing it."
of course, this gives me anxiety. how can i take this friend's story and objects and respect her contribution while ultimately using my own voice (quite literally)? how do i balance my innate earnestness with my conditioned critical eye and my somewhat wry humor?
then again, this anxiety is necessary. this discomfort. as tennessee williams said, struggle is part of being an artist. he was mainly talking about financial struggle (which, hey, i got that, too!), but i think most inspiring art is fueled by struggle. at least, the art that inspires me.
sometimes, though. it's like hugging a hedgehog.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
on ten ways to become a lesbian
(this is one just for fun. procrastination can breed such things)
1. go to every club, knitting circle, potluck, performance art happening, and slam poetry event you can find wearing a sandwich board that states, “free toaster.”
2. shave your head. the quarter-inch attachment is the most lesbionic. alternate action: change your hair color with henna or one of the mainstay manic-panic colors: bad-boy blue, hot hot pink, green envy, or red passion.
3. cut your nails. complain about how you have to keep your nails sooooo short now. loudly and often. even better, cut just the nails on your forefinger and middle finger (or middle finger and ring finger, if you’re like that) on your dominant hand. use this hand conspicuously: show off your cell phone, pull on your dykey stud or small-hoop earrings, point at your brand new copy of dykes to watch out for, etc. extra points if you put your nail clippers on your keychain or the zipper of your sufficiently sensible shoulder bag/backpack.
4. learn and actively participate in more than one of the following activities: softball; basketball; rugby; playing the drums or a brass instrument other than french horn; a martial art; cigar smoking; open mic nights (preferably at your local wymmyn’s bookstore or lesbian bar); camping; woodwork/carpentry; composting; and suddenly announcing disgust at the misogyny, homophobia, racism, etc. at awkward or inopportune times, the more awkward the better (points if these awkward moments include your birth relatives).
5. learn the lyrics to “both hands,” “closer to fine,” “ice cream,” “iowa,” “i kissed a girl (sobule version),” “i spent my last $10 (on birth control and beer),” “drag king bar,” or any major song by melissa ethridge, k.d. lang, meshell ndégeocello, le tigre, or tracy chapman.
6. stock your tea cabinet with at least seven different types of tea with at least one black, one green, and one herbal tea.
7. read one of the many canonic lesbian books (rubyfruit jungle, zami, tipping the velvet, written on the body/oranges are not the only fruit, stone butch blues, mrs. dalloway/orlando, etc.) and post on every social networking site you belong to how much you “loved” it and how it “opened your eyes” and how much you “identified” with it.
8. if you are a meat-eater, become vegetarian. if you vegetarian, become vegan. if you are vegan, become macrobiotic. if you are macrobiotic, eat meat again, but in a sexy, enlightened way. openly discuss all your food allergies. if you have none, make them up. "i'm allergic to water!" consume more legumes and whole grains. buy the moosewood cookbook. actually cook with the moosewood cookbook.
9. watch lots of fag porn, with fags and dykes (pot luck time! don’t forget your sandwich board!). balance your fascination and disgust. claim you own a dildo bigger than the biggest dick in the porn. vocally revel in how hot fag porn is. then complain loudly about how you can’t find dyke porn like this. or announce that you’ve seen “crash pad” and think it’s the beginning of a renaissance of dyke porn. loiter near an empty bedroom or the bathroom.
10. find a girl you like, romance her or entice her to romance you, kiss her, sleep with her, call uhaul. repeat.
1. go to every club, knitting circle, potluck, performance art happening, and slam poetry event you can find wearing a sandwich board that states, “free toaster.”
2. shave your head. the quarter-inch attachment is the most lesbionic. alternate action: change your hair color with henna or one of the mainstay manic-panic colors: bad-boy blue, hot hot pink, green envy, or red passion.
3. cut your nails. complain about how you have to keep your nails sooooo short now. loudly and often. even better, cut just the nails on your forefinger and middle finger (or middle finger and ring finger, if you’re like that) on your dominant hand. use this hand conspicuously: show off your cell phone, pull on your dykey stud or small-hoop earrings, point at your brand new copy of dykes to watch out for, etc. extra points if you put your nail clippers on your keychain or the zipper of your sufficiently sensible shoulder bag/backpack.
4. learn and actively participate in more than one of the following activities: softball; basketball; rugby; playing the drums or a brass instrument other than french horn; a martial art; cigar smoking; open mic nights (preferably at your local wymmyn’s bookstore or lesbian bar); camping; woodwork/carpentry; composting; and suddenly announcing disgust at the misogyny, homophobia, racism, etc. at awkward or inopportune times, the more awkward the better (points if these awkward moments include your birth relatives).
5. learn the lyrics to “both hands,” “closer to fine,” “ice cream,” “iowa,” “i kissed a girl (sobule version),” “i spent my last $10 (on birth control and beer),” “drag king bar,” or any major song by melissa ethridge, k.d. lang, meshell ndégeocello, le tigre, or tracy chapman.
6. stock your tea cabinet with at least seven different types of tea with at least one black, one green, and one herbal tea.
7. read one of the many canonic lesbian books (rubyfruit jungle, zami, tipping the velvet, written on the body/oranges are not the only fruit, stone butch blues, mrs. dalloway/orlando, etc.) and post on every social networking site you belong to how much you “loved” it and how it “opened your eyes” and how much you “identified” with it.
8. if you are a meat-eater, become vegetarian. if you vegetarian, become vegan. if you are vegan, become macrobiotic. if you are macrobiotic, eat meat again, but in a sexy, enlightened way. openly discuss all your food allergies. if you have none, make them up. "i'm allergic to water!" consume more legumes and whole grains. buy the moosewood cookbook. actually cook with the moosewood cookbook.
9. watch lots of fag porn, with fags and dykes (pot luck time! don’t forget your sandwich board!). balance your fascination and disgust. claim you own a dildo bigger than the biggest dick in the porn. vocally revel in how hot fag porn is. then complain loudly about how you can’t find dyke porn like this. or announce that you’ve seen “crash pad” and think it’s the beginning of a renaissance of dyke porn. loiter near an empty bedroom or the bathroom.
10. find a girl you like, romance her or entice her to romance you, kiss her, sleep with her, call uhaul. repeat.
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