Yesterday was jampacked and delicious: the day as a whole as well as many of its component parts. In homage to Ben's enjoyable recent entry, I was thinking of writing this entry with a looser chronological framework than normal, but I think I shant after all, at least until I get to talking about Sager, which was just a flurry of goodness and noteworthiness. I didn't have anything to drink, but I did on Friday night, which is where I must start. Right after I finished writing my last entry, I poured myself a gin and grapefuit juice, which was quite stiff, and would have tasted even more excellent if I liked grapefuit juice. Before I even finished that, I fixed myself another, an ice-cream/baileys/kahlua/milk concoction, and two-fisted it over into Joel's room to have a makeshift inflight rehearsal. It certainly helped (or didn't help) matters that I hadn't had anything to eat for dinner; within minutes I was feeling that fresh feeling. So I just sat there and listened to Matt and Joels' latest opera, commenting coherently I think. We worked on the Brigid song ("shuffle and bridge?"), stripped down for acoustic, cello, and egg-shaker, with piano on intro and solo. Then I moved over to the other room, where people had been amassing all evening: Gabe and Claire, Alyssa and Mark, and Rebecca and Nori, many of them partaking of beers. I sat on the couch and smiled and listened to the conversation, but didn't contribute a whole lot, except to sing along with Y Los Cubanos Postizos (hay que darse cuenta que todo es mentira, que nada es verdad…) A little bit of either/or, and I slept nice and snuggly.

So that was the end of Friday. Yesterday began with some uncertainty about plans. The Gravitzes finally got in touch with me, but pre-show brunch was first in and then out of [the] question. So I just went with Ruth and Rebecca instead, to Java Joes, while Alyssa stayed to clean dishes and read. The wait wasn't too long, and the air was warm anyway. After redefining the laws of kosher-for-passover, Ruth and I did our usual trick of order-and-split, in this case with pierogies (served with kielbasa, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs) and a havarti-salmon-dill omelet. I probably had two thirds of the combined meals, which meant that it was mostly gone. Good good, but afterwards I felt like that much cholesterol wasn't what I needed right before the show. Large glass of freshly-squozen too. The afternoon performance was surprisingly energetic for a matinee, but it certainly suffered from a smaller-than-expected audience (I couldn't blame them - it was an awful day to be sitting inside a theatre, but doubly annoying because I wish we'd had that weather last Saturday.) Walked mostlynaked in the audience again, chatting with folks (I think my favorite reaction was from Mike Camilleri, who asked if we had been allowed to choose our outfits.) Felicia was resplendent again with see-through shirt and black bra (although I tried to convince her that she ought to go all the way and lose one or the other.) My powerballadry on "Maybe This Time" was apparently a little much (according to Kathy.) The band did their thing, as fine as you please. Rebecca said later that she thought the tone of the show was more depressing for this performance, which is interesting. People ask me, but I really can't offer much comment on any of the stuff, since I haven't seen any of the performances. I am looking forward to the video though.

Back home, heard from Michael, who said they'd be over at 5:30, so I started brainstorming fast and good dinner spots. Turned out they didn't show until 6:00, and there was a diaper-change operation needed before we could head out, so ended up just going for pizza (something I've not had in a while). First though, there wer a few amusing minutes of the assembled company in the common room - Michael, Tracy, Zoe, Lily, Ella, Joel, Ruth, Fiona (Rebecca's friend from Summerbridge, who had just arrived a few minutes earlier), and then Jeanne Gardner, who showed up to find all sorts of people but none who were particularly relevant to her. Unfortunately I forgot to break out the i-zone, which would have sigificantly diversified the age range represented. To make things even funnier (in terms of all these people crowded into a few moments in time), Nori walked over as we were on our way out, and then Rae called down to us from the porch roof. Piled into their newly-acquired minivan, outfitted with two carseats, each with a complex buckling system, stopped by CVS for a diaper refill, and made it to the pleasantly family Swat Pizza. Very amusing, the conversation, over pink lemonade, pineapple and pepperoni pie, as they talked about their trip (Rodin, Betsy Ross, overnight dropoff in distant suburbs, asthma attacks), and their history in the area (Michael grew up a few miles away, Tracy used to teach at Swat elementary), I responded to their questions about my life ("girlfriends?" "only one at the moment") which also at one point turned into a discussion of Leví-Strauss and epistemology in general (although that word did not get used), and we all responded to exclamations from Lily, her demonstration of her art (color) work, her reluctance to eat her turkey-bacon sandwich. Then they dropped me off at the show, agreeing that it was a shame so short, next time we'll plan ahead more, good to catch up anyway, and over such good grub too.

The evening show had some of thus fun final-performance elements (nice that we ended on an evening rather than a Sunday matinee), like a pre-show band singing rendition of the new anthem "Maybe This Time" (me playing of course), and Jack getting down extra dirty during "Two Ladies," "encore" music from the band in the form of a befuddled "Don't Tell Mama" reprise. Some of the sloppiness that comes from that (perhaps), but mostly lots of good energy and exuberance. The audience certainly took to it the best, with extended standing o and all that. Of course, how can you not love something like that, especially when you know everyone in it. Matt and Maria and I decided against including an impromptu 8 bars of "I Will Survive" under Tanya's "I Will Survive" speech, but I did practice a little subversion by adding accordion parts on "Perfectly Fabulous" and ratcheting up the fill filligree. It was all for the best. Conviviality and photography in the lobby afterwards, as I slipped down to the costume shop to find something Sager-suitable. I had been thinking something reserved, and first tryed on a nice blue frock with white lacy trim, but then I found a paltry, delicate little slip with a light floral pattern, which Audrey told me had been Amy's for House of Yes. I also took the Lydia hat, which I later decided against wearing, but I couldn't find any appropriate shoes, jewelry, or scarves. The cast had to stay and strike before they could go take part in the inhibitionlessness, but thankfully the band wasn't asked to, so I headed back home for a quick change. The only folks here were Fiona and Ruth, so after I showered, shaved as closely as possible (face only), inserted contacts (it seems I still have a few pairs hidden away for special occasions), and donned my negligee (under which the same black "panties" made so famous at the cab preshow were still more or less visible), I enlisted their help in hair design. Ruth encouraged me in my haphazard finger-combing, which resulted in tousled sprigs and curls that come out so well in my wet hair, and grew more pronounced and resilient with the addition of some hair gel and stuff. Then she took a few barrettes and fashioned a handful of little curls, and for the finishing touch we borrowed a tri-faceted orange and yellow daffodil from the flower assortments she had picked up in Media that afternoon, and affixed with another barrette. I-zoned and hair re-re-tousled for maximum girlycurlyness, I lent magenta-tanked Fiona the blue-green fish tie, and skipped off across campus to the Midsemester Night's Dreamworld of a party, feeling youthful and innocent and slight and sylvan and gossamer.

First of all, the party setup was magnificent. The WRC, which I checked out first, had its first floor cleverly partitioned with 'walls' of translucent curtains, bedecked with fake flowers - creating a hallway through the main room, and then two rooms off to the sides, one of which started out as a coat room and at least a few points served as makeout chamber. The other one, which had a few chairs and couches, was where I found Alison Edelman, sitting and watching the show as folks passed by up and down the stairs, most of them drawing back the curtain to peek in on their way. Alana joined us there as well, impressively masculinized with a big puffy shirt. The kitchen contained a perpetual line of (mostly) women waiting for the bathroom - when I first got there it was Amelia, Abram, overalls Jenny, bra'd Laurel, flower-nightie Louisa. I went upstairs as well, and stayed long enough to watch a bit of the drag show and to ask Nori for permission to wear her flower sandals, which I had carried over in my pocket in hopes, and which would have been a perfect complement to my ensemble. I got beaucoup de complements on my outfit anyway, including funnily enough quite a few on the shoes (my adidas, which I wore to Sager last year as well). The best one was from Samarah, who said I looked "angelic." A lot of people told me how pretty I was, some of them repeatedly, and others said I looked like a nymph, a dryad, a fairy, and so on. I hadn't even realized until my way over how appropriate my costume was for the theme. Honestly though, the vast majority of people were well dressed. I was extremely impressed. Well over two-thirds of men were in drag, I'd say, some basically just looking like themselves with dresses incongruously on (Dan Shargel, Ben Bagley), others took a little more care (Ben, who was charming with has excellent brand-new haircut to match; Allen McBride, looking bizarrely regal [would that be reginal?] in a black gown and flowing blond hair and beard; Daniel Sproul, in a pink flouncy dress), although not very many stuffed (Gabe Hetland did, and a few others I can't remember) and several went for the interesting long-skirt/bare-chest concept (Dima, who was dancing with Miss Parent most of the night). Dale was predictably wild with tighty-whities and glitter all over his body; Alejandro (?) Perez (?) had a splendid sort of chain-mail dress; and then of course Ben Schweigert and Pete Wirzbicki went for the tried-and-true "boring t-shirt" approach. As for the women, perhaps a quarter or so were in drag, in more or less interesting ways (the two basic methods being dress shirt & tie and baseball cap & "boy shirt." Maria and Alana were particularly successful, while Cathy, Sorelle, Louisa, and others in that general crowd pulled it off with varying levels of formalness in their attire. Alison was dressed as Dave, while Dave was pretty much dressed as himself. One of my favorites (unsurprisingly) was Brigid, with a simple shirt and tie, subtly fabulous and sexy in a harried-businessman way - but the effect was really achieved by seeing her standing next to her tall handsome brother, wearing the infamous pineapple dress. Kate Hurster definitely wins the prize for most naked - she had nothing on her upper half other than a smear of black paint - with Jocelyn as a runner-up, in a ridiculous bit of gauzy crinkly fabric from Joanne's that was somewhat uncomfortable to dance against. A lot of gals did the triangular bandana across the chest thing, with varying kinds of fabric. Renee concocted an impressive and effective situation with a carefully position gap in her fabric-wrapping. And of course plenty just had on lacy things or bras of one kind or another. Lots of the Cabaret cast created their outfits by trading costumes with other castmembers - Blair and Tanya were both perfectly adorable in knee-lenth sailor shirts - while others simply augmented their own (Rebecca made the transition from "Cabaret" to "Chicago"), or diminished them, as the case might be (Mike Smith.) Probably the most out-and-out eye-catching was Rebecca Weinberger, wearing an elaborate contraption including flashing red lights drawing attention to her scantily feather-clad breasts and crotch. She sat out on the lawn between the two buildings for a while, clearly the Titania of the evening. And it was a perfect evening for it. The air was so mild that lots of people who were less interested in dancing just congregated outside and enjoyed the spectacle. If we only we could have had that weather last week…

The music was also, on the whole, excellent, and thoughtfully divided into Phil's House of House and pop-trance in the WRC ("U Don't Know Me," "I'm Too Sexy," Petshop Boys' "Boys and Girls" mix) and Aja and perhaps some others mixing it up in Olde Club (Outkast, Fugees, Missy, cool mixes of "No Diggity" and "Nigga What," D'Angelo and Marvin Gaye, but also "Sexy Feline Machine" and "Harder Faster Stronger Better.") I was impressed. It's especially funny because these are the same people who DJ many SAC parties where I'm always dissatisfied with the music. Why can't they pull out their real stuff even for the dinky parties. Obviously they would rather do that, you know? Well, I was glad, even though I certainly didn't need extra incentive to dance, that the music was so good for it. My best dances (at least more extended dances with one person) were with Addie, Lindsey, Renee, Blair, but the major mode of operation was shorter flirtations merging into group dancing and spinning off into other things; Njedeka, Dale, Camilla, Ben, and on and on. Then there was Jessica from tango, a dream in simple barely-there nightie with low pink floral buds and enticingly drunk beyond all inhibition, glowing blond, prone to catching passersby off-guard smiling and tickled pink to see them, kiss on the cheek, drunken angel. She giggled about how funny it was that Micah White had been her spec "and now here he is!" and repeatedly told me how pretty my outfit was "the flower is key." Her apparently boyfriend in a black negligee, a bit sketchy with his liberties, and she periodically left me explaining she had to go find him, but then I'd see her again later, and recombine. I buried myself in her hair. Sweet sweet sweet. I passed back and forth between the buildings several times, stopped down in the basement for blue mint hard candy (what foods those morsels be), water from the WRC, but I didn't have any alcohol. There's no need, not for me, and I'd had my fill last night (perhaps will again tonight). At a late stage (nearly two?) Alyssa showed up (oh hi Alyssa, high Alyssa), charmed and charming, in, as promised, John Fort's navy Septa worker jumpsuit, with the words "Men at Work" and a downward arrow where it was slightly unzipped. A last go 'round, promising Renee I'd be ready to leave soon, and wound up upstairs in the WRC, circling, Ben Sophie Rebecca Zabby Sproul and more, Renee W-G hopelessy inebriated and bleary-eyed, in corduroy, would periodically just sort of attach herself to me. Phil called it a night, and we staggered outside, where a hookah circle had formed, several of the participants inexplicably but hilariously clad in burqas and headscarves. Snatches of end-of-the-party conversation: a discussion of Lord Byron (how Swattie!), hippie longhair pontificating to prim curly Elisa "so, it's like, you have to live your life like there's a purpose to it…" I kept thinking that more parties need to be like Sager. In a sense, the majority of Paces/Olde Club parties are just muted shadows of (what almost nobody seemed to call Genderfuck); they strive for libertinousness and abandon lack of inhibition, but only achieve it on a small scale which is far less satisfying. It wouldn't be the kind of thing I'd want every weekend, but it's a shame it only happens once a year. Anyway, a fabulous night, and I was revelling. The group that found its way back to the barn was me, Rebecca, Louisa and Fiona; Joel was here already. We chatted til 3:30 (?), Selected Ambient fitting in nicely, about Louisa's repression, stories from the evening, who's gay in the play, mating balls and dip and on. I let Louisa and Fiona have my bed (them probably needed it more than I did), and took the couch instead.

And woke seven hours later. Read early one chapter of Geertz (so well-written), asiago cheese bagel with mango chutney and cream cheese and the last of the carrot-orange juice. Gradually the household awakened and got ready to go to the Barnes (when my room was free I took the fix of Dump I'd been craving). It started to rain (bades badly for dip), but luck was with us, since we all five (Ruth Rebecca Fiona Nori me) got in on four tickets. As I recall, I went to the Barnes on Easter Sunday last year as well, having fortuitiously only been able to get tickets on that day because presumably everyone else is too busy churchgoing. This time I started with the other downstairs side and then headed upstairs. I still didn't manage to do the whole thing effectively in one go (I don't think that's possible, on reflection; the building isn't that big, but the walls are crammed.) Suffice to say it's still an incredible collection, and an immensely enjoyable way to pass an afternoon (although we did stay overlong, because Ruth was enjoying her headset guided tour so). And now we're back, and this has taken me two hours to write (rrrgh.) with a break to help move recycling downstairs (much needed) and some roommate chatting. And no food. I'm going to eat now, then read, then cast party and hopefully dip. The rain is lovely but if it could only have been like last night again tonight. Ah la la. My three-party-weekend is not yet over.

hay que vivir el momento feliz
hay que gozar lo que puedo gozar
porque sacando la cuenta en total
la vida es un sueño