Just a reminder that TUTA is gathering this Sunday and I'd love to get a chance to have a drink with you in support of them.
..........................
We're Engaged! Join Us!
Join us to celebrate “The Wedding” and our entire new season of engaging entertainment.
What: An "Engagement Party" featuring drinks, wedding-themed parlor games, and a chance to meet our actors in an informal setting, all for $20
When: Sunday, November 15, 2009, 7pm. Save the Date!
Where: The Spot, 4437 N. Broadway, Chicago
Why: A portion of the proceeds will benefit TUTA, a theatre company known for marrying cultures, time periods and artistic expressions of all kinds.
Bonus: Get engaged now by donating online. ANY amount is appreciated! Help reach our goal of 100 donations by Nov 15 and we'll unveil a special thank you treat!
More details and RSVP on our blog http://www.tutato.com/blog/were-eng
Much thanks...me
something that will hold the love
and torn bits of my soul
at my father's passing.
I would write one
but my fingers are too raw to hold a pen.
Yet all other words seem like paper bells
against my grief's resounding peal.
I cannot be
the only one
to lose the father
that she never had.
How can I place
this symphony of ravens' wings
upon a white page?
My post for the TUTA blog went live today. Luckily the brainy roomie was kind enough to play editor so some of my writer's fear was assuaged. I still worry that it's lame but I had FUN writing it...now isn't that good information?
*contemplates clubbing inner critic so that the rest of us can enjoy this moment...hmmmm*
- Mood:
tired
Grief/The Day of the Dead, Carlos Schwabe (1866-1926)
David Keith Byers, son of the late Helene and Harold L. Byers, died after a long illness on October 25, 2009. He is survived by his beloved daughter Jennifer Byers of Chicago, Illinois; long time companion Leslie Lupino of Pittsfield, Massachusetts; and his sisters Lorna Smith of Allendale, New Jersey; Karen McKenney of Arlington, Virginia; and Debra Lombardi of Safety Harbor, Florida. He is predeceased by his sister Doreen Chassin of Buffalo, New York. David grew up in Ramsey and lived in many places throughout the United States. He spent the last twelve years of his life in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. He will be remembered for his life long love of music which sustained him wherever he lived and worked. A private memorial service is planned. In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the Berkshire Medical Center in Pittsfield.
Only Death
Solo La Muerte
There are lone cemeteries,
tombs filled with soundless bones,
the heart passing through a tunnel
dark, dark, dark;
like a shipwreck we die inward
like smothering in our hearts,
like slowly falling from our skin to our soul.
There are corpses,
there are feet of sticky, cold gravestone,
there is death in the bones,
like a pure sound,
like a bark without a dog,
coming from certain bells, from certain tombs,
growing in the dampness like teardrops or raindrops.
I see alone, at times,
coffins with sails
weighing anchor with pale corpses, with dead-tressed women,
with bakers white as angels,
with pensive girls married to notaries;
coffins going up the vertical river of the dead,
the dark purple river,
upward, with the sails swollen by the sound
of death,
swollen by the silent sound of death.
To resonance comes death
like a shoe without a foot, like a suit without a man,
she comes to knock with a stoneless and fingerless ring,
she comes to shout without mouth, without tongue,
without throat.
Yet her steps sound
and her dress sounds, silent as a tree.
I know little, I am not well acquainted, I can scarcely see,
but I think that her song has the color of moist violets,
of violets accustomed to the earth,
because the face of death is green,
and the gaze of death is green,
with the sharp dampness of a violet
and its dark color of exasperated winter.
But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom,
she licks the ground looking for corpses,
death is in the broom,
it is death’s tongue looking for dead bodies,
it is death’s needle looking for thread.
Death is in the cots:
in the slow mattresses, in the black blankets
she lives stretched out, and she suddenly blows:
she blows a dark sound that puffs out the sheets,
and there are beds sailing to a port
where she is waiting, dressed as an admiral.
Hay cementerios solos,
tumbas llenas de huesos sin sonido,
el corazón pasando un túnel
oscuro, oscuro, oscuro,
como un naufragio hacia adentro nos morimos,
como ahogarnos en el corazón,
como irnos cayendo desde la piel al alma.
Hay cadáveres,
hay pies de pegajosa losa fría,
hay la muerte en los huesos,
como un sonido puro,
como un ladrido sin perro,
saliendo de ciertas campanas, de ciertas tumbas,
creciendo en la humedad como el llanto o la lluvia.
Yo veo, solo, a veces,
ataúdes a vela
zarpar con difuntos pálidos, con mujeres de trenzas muertas,
con panaderos blancos como ángeles,
con niñas pensativas casadas con notarios,
ataúdes subiendo el río vertical de los muertos,
el río morado,
hacia arriba, con las velas hinchadas por el sonido
de la muerte,
hinchadas por el sonido silencioso de la muerte.
A lo sonoro llega la muerte
como un zapato sin pie, como un traje sin hombre,
llega a golpear con un anillo sin piedras y sin dedo,
llega a gritar sin boca, sin lengua,
sin garganta.
Sin embargo sus pasos suenan
y su vestido suena, callado como un árbol.
Yo no sé, yo conozco poco, yo apenas veo,
pero creo que su canto tiene color de violetas húmedas,
de violetas acostumbradas a la tierra,
porque la cara de la muerte es verde,
y la mirada de la muerte es verde,
con la aguda humedad de una hoja de voileta
y su grave color de invierno exasperado.
Pero la muerte va también por el mundo vestida de escoba,
lame el suelo buscando difuntos,
la muerte está en la escoba,
es la lengua de la muerte buscando muertos,
es la aguja de la muerte buscando hilo.
La muerte está en los catres:
en los colchones lentos, en las frazadas negras
vive tendida, y de repente sopla:
sopla un sonido oscuro que hincha sábanas,
y hay camas navegando a un puerto
en donde está esperando, vestida de almirante.
- Mood: sad
I am a cobweb's ghost
barefooted and lost.
I am me
and I am the six year old girl,
small hand against the glass
watching you go.
I do not know how to be like this,
with my chest full of broken glass.
Goodbye daddy...
- Mood: sad
Rules for Good Manners in the Modern World: Photo by Guedrius Suenis.
Hello all ~
Personally, I don't get all that excited about attending benefits, so I understand if you cringe at this post. But bear with me for a moment. If you enjoy hanging with bohemian types. If you like knowing that you make a difference in the world. If you live in the area and want to support local, innovative, subversive art in a way that is fun and painless, this is the benefit for you!
No dressing up. No sycophantic actors trying to fit their heads in your bum. No constant begging for additional donations or auction/raffle bids. This is actually a low-key, lost-cost night of relaxing and playing games with me and the Tutians (who are an amusing group, let me tell you). It's easy and it's all for a worthy cause...helping to pay for my wedding dress!
I'd love to see you there. Details are below. Feel free to contact me with any questions ~
We’re excited to invite you – friends and strangers -- to our upcoming celebration of The Wedding and our whole new season of engaging entertainment. We invite you into the party, whether you are familiar with TUTA already or a first-time visitor into our land. We provide a welcoming and humorous environment for traveling from the familiar into lesser known places, times and genres.
Here is how one audience member put it, “I love that TUTA provides an accessible challenge. In each show, I get most of what’s going on -- enough to thoroughly enjoy the experience -- but honestly there is always some part I am still wondering about days later. It’s a good stretch.”
So, save the date of Sunday, November 15 for the Engagement Party!
The evening will feature drinks, wedding-themed games -- for the married and unmarried alike! -- and the chance to informally meet members of TUTA. The event will entertain you while helping to support us, via a recession-friendly $20 admission at the door. Of course, you can help us out anytime with an online donation.
Below are all the party logistics. Let us know if you have any questions or suggestions.
Don't forget to bring your friends along! Use the button at the bottom of this post to share it with your favorite social media site or good old-fashioned email. While you're at it - make sure you stay up-to-date on TUTA events by joining our Facebook group or following us on Twitter.
What: An "Engagement Party" featuring drinks, wedding-themed parlor games, and a chance to meet our actors in an informal setting, all for $20
When: Sunday, November 15, 2009, 7pm.
Where: The Spot, 4437 N. Broadway, Chicago (easily accessible via Wilson Red Line stop and #78 Montrose, #36 Broadway buses - and since you'll be drinking and the parking can be difficult, you should really consider this option.)
Why: A portion of the proceeds will benefit TUTA, a theatre company known for marrying cultures, time periods and artistic expressions of all kinds.
Bonus: Get engaged now by donating online. ANY amount is appreciated! Help reach our goal of 100 donations by November 15th and we'll unveil a special thank you treat!
RSVP: Facebook Event ~ Direct Message on Twitter
TUTA's first show in Chicago, "The Hour We Knew Nothing of Each Other" by Peter Handke.
Recently,TUTA did a spiffy website revamp, so we now have a blog. We all know that a blog can't write itself, so a call was sent to all company members for blogunteers. Since I seem to really enjoy doing this, I offered to create an October entry. I got rather excited about it and wrote something a few short hours after agreeing to chip in, even though we'd set a deadline that is over a week away. My exuberance was kinda cute.
Then, during the editing process, my inner critic started rattling bars and using all sorts of fear tactics in the hopes that I'd put on the brakes. While I am working to recognize what of my feelings is just old stories and various other chips, some rational part of me is wondering ~ what kind of blog entry would reflect our mission or would feed/challenge/engage our audience? When I'm blogging here on LJ, I don't really try to consider what folks want to read (erm...no offense!). I'm just rambling because I enjoy it and it forces me to push my edges around writing and poetry. I also stay connected to many folks here and I learn a lot from others.
That feels different from writing as a representative of my theatre company and while we're deliciously anti-commercial (so I feel no need to pander or try to "please the crowd") I'd like to create something of quality. I always try to give TUTA my artistic best.
It's good (and a bit uncomfortable) to be given the chance to expand into a new little challenge. It will be interesting to see how it all turns out.
- Mood: sleepy
My friends page is so very quiet these days (with some notable and much loved exceptions). Instead of blogging, it seems like many folks have taken to Facebooking and/or Twittering. *shudder* I suppose it is interesting to share photos/links and to know each others random minutiae. Yet, I miss the depth and creativity of the old days.
*takes on "granny voice"* You know, in MY day, we took the time to write thoughtful, long....
Oh never mind - you get my drift.
I've only been a vegetarian for two years now (well, this time, I was veg in college as well) and in general I think it's a good fit for me (please be clear, I'm not saying a good fit for everyone). I took it on to drastically reduce my footprint and it's done that but it's also improved my health and sense of well being.
Still, there are things I miss. Over the past year I've found that I crave fish/seafood - and I do splurge in very rare, special instances to have it (particularly if it is ethical). Over the past few months I've begun to crave poultry and it makes me wonder if my nutritional blend is missing something.
Some of it is variety I think. I get the same food options and while I'm trying to expand my vegetarian cooking skills, I often fall back on the same set of dishes. My grocery has the same set of veggie offerings and sometimes I really just crave something flavorful and new.
And of course there are those "old favorites" from omnivorism that simply can't be reproduced.
For me, one of those is Tom kha soup, an intense Thai soup (with chicken) that makes my saliva glads tango just upon mentioning. It's such an artful blend of flavors: warm spices, bright-citrusy lemon grass and galangal and sweet coconut milk. I have thought about making a bird-free version at home, but it's not possible to create with local ingredients, so I have avoided experimenting and have simply waved at it longingly on every Thai menu that I've passed.
Guess how tickled I was when I went to Legee Rice and Noodles (which is only a half a block from my pottery studio) and found that they had vegetarian Tom kha tofu? *happy dance!* It was wonderful; very fresh, clean and less rich than the chicken versions I have had. They use very little coconut milk and add raw veggies (which soften in the warm broth, but not too much) so there's a nice textural mix.
With the wet, gray days we've been having in Chicago - and the wet gray days of my heart, something golden, warm, passionate and comforting was a welcome and delicious gift. Mmmmmmmm...
I am moved by the photography of Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre in which they capture the state of ruin.
Ruins are the visible symbols and landmarks of our societies
and their changes, small pieces of history in suspension.
The state of ruin is essentially a temporary situation that happens at
some point, the volatile result of change of era and the fall of empires.
This fragility, the time elapsed but even so running fast, lead us to watch them one very last time :
being dismayed, or admire, making us wondering about the permanence of things.
Excepting, perhaps, the fabric of love itself, all things fall. All things pass. The only constant is change.
Your form that held light, laughter and the colors of love
has released, leaving stillness and memory.
Helen...artist...Grandmother.
Unwanted, I lived so very far
but still, I will carry you close,
honoring your whispers that rush in my veins
until I climb up and join you again.
- Mood: sad
If we don't support our local artists...who the hell will? Stand up (or sit down and have a drink) for what you believe in...LOCAL ART!!!
Many of you know my roommate,
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
tarirocks, who is a talented (and sassy) singer/songwriter. If you've never heard her original music, I encourage you to listen to some of her free tracks here. The tracks don't really do her justice though, so it would be even better if you attended some of her upcoming gigs in October. I've listed details from T below. Enjoy!*** October 5th, 8 pm at Silvie's Lounge (1905 W. Irving Park)
Silvie's does Acoustic Showcases every Monday night, where you can see five local acoustic acts. I've played here before, and it's actually a really cool, low-key room. Plus, it's just down the street from the Irving Park Brown Line stop, in case you want to get lit on a Monday!
*** October 11th, 3-5 pm at Argo Tea - St. Clair (550 St. Clair)
I love playing coffee and tea shops, mostly because they're such low key gigs....a couple hours to just hang out and rock out and play song after song after song after song. If you're hanging out downtown, why not stop in for some tea and listen to a couple songs? This tea shop is right off Grand, not far from Michigan Avenue.
*** October 27th, 9 pm at Wild Pug (4810 N. Broadway)
Wild Pug is a very cool LGBTQ-friendly pub in Uptown, and this Fall, they're running an Acoustic concert series featuring a bunch of local queer and queer-friendly acts (such as yours truly!).
A place of memories that I wanted to have
of happiness, love and family.
A birds nest perhaps,
wrapped in yellowed lace, caressed by cobwebs,
hidden amongst sepia prints and lavender buds.
In such a place, I would wear Wedgewood blue, with a gray velvet ribbon about my throat.
I would sing you old songs and we would dance in our bare feet.
I would set a table with silver and candles, spiced pear wine and apple stack cake.
The fireflies would be our floor show, the crickets our bright symphony.
Ah home. Will you ever be more than stars' breath and ash?
I can change the world, one meal at a time...an in so many ways!
Happy Mabon!
While this Tennessee girl has become overly fond of spring and summer since living in Chicago ('cause there's just too much damned cold weather in these parts!)...my favorite season is fall. A lot of folks seems to share this love and all around me, people are making happy noises about the beginnings of fiery foliage and sweater season. The Farmer's market is a delight of rounded, russet glory as pumpkins, apples and gourds of every type are displayed in vibrant piles. Suddenly my tongue is dreaming of all the sweet, warm spices: cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, clove, anise, mace and cardamom. The fabric of love is shifting from summer silk and is knitting itself from sage, sienna and scarlet skeins.
I am bewitched by it all and in love with the richness of life. Along with many of my other "most favorite things", I see that the Mexican Fine Arts Museum is opening their annual Day of the Dead Exhibt next weekend. Their website touts it as the largest Dia de los Muertos exhibit in the nation! If you're going to be in town between September 25 and December 13, 2009 - I cannot recommend this experience enough (as I mentioned in a previous post from 2007). It is a stunning, sacred, marigold-clad honoring of the beloved dead and a joyfully-sorrowful herald of winter's coming sleep.
I know you've all been waiting with bated breath to hear more about my adventures in pottery.
"What..." you must ask yourself daily, "did Jennifer decide to do about that pottery class?!?!"
Well wonder no more! ;>) I have signed up for the next level of wheel throwing classes, the first of which was last night. So far, things are off to a good start. I really enjoy the instructors (who are much more helpful than my last teacher) and have already learned three valuable things that I was not told/shown before.
All the other students seem to be much more skilled than I. I went back to simply trying to pull a cylinder (one of the more difficult shapes) while the folks around me pulled pitchers, platters and a mini-replica of the Cathedral at Lourdes (okay, that last one didn't really happen but I'm feeling hyperbolic).
At first my ego was smarting. In the past, I used to be rather a quick start at artistic things but pottery is its own ball of...erm...clay. I don't mind being the class dummy though. I pulled up two pieces, both of which were twice as tall as my puny mugs from the first round of classes. Besides, working with clay is such a sensual treat and my hands and arms are exceedingly soft at the end of the night.
I am looking forward to free studio time where I can work wearing my headphones. Visual art flows much more beautifully from me when I'm listening to music. Also, throwing is so much about the body and I could use a little help finding my feet in this dance.
Each morning I walk over a half a mile from the train to my office. Unless I'm carrying something particularly heavy (which has been known to happen...no comments peanut gallery!) I really enjoy it (at least until the skin-burningly cold temps set in). It is never the same two days in a row and it's fun to be present to the color and commotion of the city.
Today, they were passing out freebies by the Thompson Center. Often I take a pass on such things but when I saw that it was Greek yogurt I accepted a container happily. When I was in Greece I fell in love with the thicker, creamier yogurt they make there...particularly when they served it to me with that deep, amber thyme-honey. Besides, this yogurt was telling me that it was organic, and that its maker donated 10% of its profits "to efforts that help protect and restore the earth". Hmmmm - vague promises there. Obviously those efforts don't extend to refusing to offer those tiny, single serving containers which up plastic use exponentially, though they do appear to be trying to mitigate that in some ways.
Much to my disappointment, this Oikos yogurt tasted nothing like what I expected (or hoped for). It had such a synthetic aftertaste that I felt sure it must be stuffed with aspartame or some other toxic chemical. I checked on Stonyfield's site though, and it appears to have natural ingredients. Perhaps it is the "vanilla flavor" that is setting my taste buds on edge. I am tempted to try the honey flavor but recognize that really, I should make my own damned yogurt. I know that I don't even need a yogurt machine and that it would be dee-lish. Though Stonyfield is in NH, which is much closer to me than CA (where most of our yogurt seems to come from) it would be better for me to make it at home (with local milk) and if I want it Greek style, I just need to strain it.
Perhaps I'll do that in all of my free time.
Wait.
What happened to my free time?
CRAP!
Last weekend I went to Indianapolis for the Commitment Ceremony of my dear
muddyslush and J. It was my first visit to Indianapolis and my first time officiating a wedding, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I had a pleasant ride up with tarirocks (TF) and G, who entertained us with a brilliant "1982" mix disc that made me feel somehow simultaneously old and...well...twelve. Why is it that I know every single word of a Journey song that is beyond cheesy and which serves to give me flashbacks of my second year of college (where my roommate and her boyfriend - who were VERY loud in bed - would only have sex to Journey's Greatest Hits.) That's right folks, when she took the midnight train, everyone in the apartment had to know about it.But I digress...
Seeing
muddyslush (TR) was a thrill and I'm not sure I even realized how much I've missed him until he was before me. It's one of those things that I try not to dwell on but there really is a hole in my world now that he's moved to Seattle. What matters though is that he's happy (and I am happy for him). That's what often happens in life with loved ones ~ we shift, we move, we change and we stay connected as best we can, carrying each other in our hearts. I will always think of TR as a Divine Twin and a spiritual partner.Now TR was getting married, so I didn't get to have him all to myself (dang it!). We were all there to see he and J, who looked fabulous after their (almost) first full year out west. It was fun (and sometimes interesting) to meet family members and close friends of the couple and to get to see bits of their lives that were new to me.
The wedding was at TR's father's home, which was gorgeous. We arrived a bit late the first night (traffic, construction, ARG!) but the rehearsal was short and simple. We engaged in some napkin origami for a bit and then were treated to dinner at a nearby Italian spot. After a rich meal and even richer conversation, TF and I waddled off to find our hostel.
TF is one of those folks who makes travel easy. She's a research whiz/information junkie, so she arranged for a Zipcar, got directions to every location we would visit and scouted out a fabulous little hostel. I'll be honest, I would not have expected Indy to have a hostel (no offense to the Indy folks, but it's not on my list of glamorous vacation spots). Not only do they have a hostel - they have quite a sexy hostel which makes me wonder if there aren't more reasons to tour The Hoosier State. The hostel was a renovated home that was clean and comfortable (and much more to my preference than an industrial or corporate-feeling building). They noticeably prioritized eco-awareness/sustainability and supported the local arts scene (they displayed paintings by local artists and also appeared to offer house concerts with local bands). The staff member we met, Garth, was friendly and considerate. He had a delightful accent, was a charming panderer of tea and a fascinating model as to how you can use the word "right" to mean almost anything in conversation. I can't say enough nice things about the place - but I think you get my point.
The day of the event was a bit more stressful and I found that part of my role as officiant was to hold the energy of the whole day, reminding the grooms about delegation and self care. The yard (where the ceremony was held) was stunning. The flowers, autumnal roses and calla lilies, were strikingly lush against the as-yet-green of September around us. We worked together to get things in place and with so many hands it was light work. Before we parted, TR, TF, G and I cast a sphere to hold the blessings of the day. Many allies were invited in (after all, it was a special occasion) including the oh-so-dreaded mosquito (which was brilliant and which actually seemed to keep them from eating us alive that night).
TF and I rushed back to the hostel to get dressed (in less than half and hour, YIKES!) and arrived back just in time (or perhaps a bit late) for photos. I was given over half an hour of privacy to prepare so I was focused, present, aligned and purified when we started. I also had Freya holding my hand so I was not as nervous as I had been (or thought I would be).
The ceremony itself was lovely and moving. There was one hilarious moment when fate intervened with the musical choices, but otherwise, things went beautifully according to plan. During it all, I forgot about everyone watching and it very much became about something very intimate for TR and J which I had the good fortune to facilitate.
The reception after was great fun. I got wonderful feedback from many of the guests and got to relax with yet another amazing meal, tasty drinks (hello white peach sangria) and a delectable assortment of wedding cupcakes. After the sun had set the dancing began and I got to witness one of my favorite things in life: watching sexy TR shake his groove thang (wow, what a dancer that man is!). Later, as TF and I walked out into the dark to thank our allies and close the sphere, I was struck by the beauty of the stars above and of the candlelit dining tables with their glittering, Titian bouquets. I was euphoric on Freya-bliss, joyful for these two who had tied themselves into a nurturing knot within the fabric of love itself and just a wee bit sad that Seattle is so very far away.
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