Chicago!

It's been a month since I went on my jaunt to the Windy City, and I've finally uploaded all the photos from the trip. So I feel like I'm allowed to talk about it now.



It was this girl's birthday!



She's in love with this guy!

Despite my flight being delayed two hours, we still made the most of my time in Chicago. On Saturday, we headed into the city for a gorgeous day exploring.









We went on the architecture tour, so I took approximately 20 bajillion photos of buildings...









LOOK AT THAT SKY. And this brings me to my first point about Chicago: It's deceptive. It's all well and good when you visit in August. Because let me just tell you, that city is beautiful. It's clean, the river is pretty, it has kick-ass architecture (see above), and it never feels over-crowded. So it tricks you, see. You think, "Oh how nice, maybe I'll move here." But come late autumn, the inevitable happens: winter. Renee says to buy a parka and suck it up, but no. I can barely stand winter in Philadelphia. In Chicago, I might have to kill myself during the winter.

Anyway. After the tour, we headed to Navy Pier, one of Renee's favorite places for lunch/dinner with Wildman Mike! And also: drinks.









Renee has a very real (and possibly valid) fear that Joe! will leave her for Wildman Mike. Joe! is listed in Wildman's phone as "God."



Ah, who are we kidding? His heart could belong to no one but her.

Chicago also gave me some opportunity at trying my hand at some Tilt/Shift photography.

After the Navy Pier we headed to Wrigleyville for more bars and drinks and fun.

We took the bus to Wrigleyville, and this brings me to another love of Chicago: Its public transportation. SEPTA could seriously do with taking a few notes from Chi-town's book. Like, the fact that the Blue line and Red line run consistently every 10 minutes. And they're reasonably priced, like $2.50 a ride. $2.50! It's $6 to Philly from Malvern (one way). And the buses are those hybrid buses that actually have oodles of room inside, allowing for – get this – personal space whilst riding. Also, trains run practically all night long. AND (I swear this was truly amazing to me), the Blue line was undergoing some construction so at one point we had to get off the train and take a shuttle. There were, like, 14 announcements, 10 signs, and actual transit employees available to answer questions and guide you to the shuttle. Had it been SEPTA (and I know this from experience), all you would have gotten was a garbled PA announcement followed by being dumped on the platform and having to wait 20 minutes for the shuttle. SEPTA, you are dead to me. CTA is my new boyfriend.

Anyway...





I had a great time in Chicago, albiet a short time. I need to go back, for like a week, and see so much more of the city. More Chicago photos here.

I'm not cheating on you, I swear...

...But in this time of busyness and ADD, I've started tumbling.

Sorry! I know. But it's fast, quick, and filled with lots of images.

Proper writing and photo blogging to return here, I promise. But in the meantime, you can see my super quick thoughts here.

Stop looking at me that way. Stop it, I said. I don't love Tumblr more than you. I don't. It's just hard for me to write long things and recaps right now. I know, I know, I KNOW.

Look, they have things to follow like Fuck Yeah Men in Suits and Heck Yeah Nerdy Men. COME ON. I CAN'T RESIST THAT. And also I'm being exposed to a lot of cool art and photography there. So it's good for me.

And again, I swear I'm not leaving you. You're still my number one, baby.

3sixty5

So the play is over, and I deem it to be a success. Namely in the sense that I did not fall down, which was a very vivid and real possibility given that the carpeting of our set was a nightmare and I was wearing heels. Also, I remembered all my lines, which I am so thankful for. God, thanks for doing me a solid on both gravity and memorization.

But now that my stint on the stage is done, I find myself both relieved and sad: I have my life back, but now I no longer get to see my castmates. Who, by the way, I really enjoyed being with. They're a fun group and after our final show we sat at the bar for hours cracking each other up.

But as the play was waning, I began to turn towards my next big time-suck: photography. Wedding Palooza 2009 is just around the corner. It is time to gear up, friends. And because I am an insane person, I signed up for a year-long photo challenge on Flickr. As in one photo everyday for a year.

I did this to push myself a bit, and get my brain into photographer-mode and creative mode and discipline mode. But it's hard because there are some good photographers in this challenge; ones who do nothing BUT photography all day, so they're a lot to live up to. And after 14 days, already I feel a challenge in the sense that it's hard coming up with unique photos every single day.

Some of my favorites so far:



Taken at a quasi-dress rehearsal for Murder!, Liz and Craig's legs.



Liz, at our final dress rehearsal.



I got hired (!) to take photos for the N Crowd. Here poor Kristen is afraid of corners whilst riding a gyroscope.



I initially hated this photo, as I was mad at myself to resorting to cat photos already this early in the challenge. However, Stephanie has pointed out that Dill has some gravitas here. I'll let Stephanie explain it in her own way:

I was looking at your 365 stream, I think...or it could have been 30/30 or some other combination of numbers and you had one of Dill in profile looking like his ass was running for president like, you could put an American flag behind his Dillhead and launch a campaign. VOTE DILL IN 2009. DILL -- HE'S AN UPRIGHT CAT
DILL ...FOR AMERICA

She makes a good point and South Carolina certainly could use a new Senator. Thus, I am launching the Dill for Senate champaign. DILL -- HE MAY PEE IN YOUR CORNER, BUT AT LEAST HE WON'T ACT LIKE A BOORISH ASS DURING A JOINT SESSION OF CONGRESS.



A self-portrait in which I look terrible, and yet I sort of like this one because it shows just how wiped I was on Friday and how little I cared. It was after our show so I have remnants of my whore-red lipstick, mussed and falling curls, and dead eyes. Check it. Now remind me again why I don't have a boyfriend?



A photo of Kate in the Doc's office, cleaning. I would have tried to get more of the chaos of the office in this picture, only I couldn't fit.

I am also doing a "30/30" challenge on Facebook, which isn't a challenge at all, since I am pulling from my archive. But it's been fun trying to interpret the challenges in different ways.

My life has been really busy and it's going to continue to be so for at least through Wedding Palooza 09. This means that for awhile it might just be photography in these parts. Fair warning.

I guess you can call me an actress now

(The first show)(went very well)(and I did not fall down).


Now to do it alllllll over again. Four more shows people. You know you want to come!

The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre

In Murder!, my character, Sheri, is described as a 20-something poet. Not to ruin things for you, but she's also a tramp and then uses her experiences as fodder for her poems. At one point in the show, Craig's character, Woodrow, pulls Sheri aside for a few minutes of private conversation stage right. Every night, as Craig pulls me aside and fake-talks to me, we mouth random words and phrases to each other, "I like your log cabin," or "Landen broods too much," and "Do you like my dress? It shows off my boobs." This is both a practical exercise (we need to look like we're really talking) and a dangerous one (we keep cracking each other up). At one rehearsal Craig jokingly asked that I recite some of Sheri's poems to him while we're doing our aside. But after I mouthed "There was a man from Nantucket..." to him, I was at a loss. Because I don't really know any poems off the top of my head, much less erotic ones. And while I can make a mean Indian Buffet Haiku, a poet I am not.

However, one of our other castmates (Courtney) is a poet, and a thumpin' good one. And today, she made up the following poems on the 32 bus. She claims that she doesn't want them associated with her, because they are awful. But I think she, (Courtney, that is) did a wonderful job of capturing Sheri's delightfully tacky spirit in these poems (that Courtney wrote).

And so I am happy to present: The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre (which is a nom de plume)(For Courtney)

1. Daybreak

for Jackson

The night woods slumber--
stars so cool, the moon so bright.
My lover loves me like the night.

But morning is a flower, opening
to the touch of my Sable Apollo.

O, caress the earth, your mistress
who rests waiting for the rays
that warm and penetrate.

Morning is a flower
opening to your touch.


2. Twilight

for Martha

O summer's lush green heat
cools to autumn's ashen void,
but here he's found a summer
still supple and yielding.

Why fetter Man to the calendar,
to the endless march of day to night?
The warmth of the sun becomes
only the distant, cool moon

unless he untie the bonds
and reach out a sure, free hand
into the soft warmth of sunshine,
the open lap of day.

--

After the Harvest

after "Death in the Evening"

The old woman cries,
realizes the mist of morning will never
again dampen her hem.

She gathers the last berries and fruit
to sustain her through the winter -- a feast!
Bounty fit for gorging, indulging, but she must

peck like a bird, savor each morsel.
Though her appetites rage inside her,
she wears a mask of satiety.

Oh, that she were young again --
to wear the lace and curl her hair!
To move among men like smoke!

She cries a lot now, tasting
the last fruit of the harvest --
juice burst and spent on her tongue.

When her basket is empty and the last fruit
is eaten, still must she survive.
So she forages, collects

the scraps of other gardens,
her mouth full of a sweetness
that sours at the close of day.

--

The Depths

for Woodrow

You are your island --
a chill wind on all sides,
deep water concealing
sediment and muck.

You are your island, unreachable
untouchable without the boat
that skims a skin of blackness

The oarsman heaves his might
against the deep, his eyes
see only the hidden longing
for land, for warmth.

O Charon, row us all to safety!
Row us far from home.

--
Dialogue of Self and Self

for Landen

Here he spins in his circle, here
he can watch the clouds gather, he
knows that she can feel his heart beating.
But she looks to another --

Here he sits in his sorrow, here
the night's darkness looms -- night
holds us until the sunrise brings the ferry.
And she still cannot see --

Here he waits for his moment, here
he feels the ice melt, knowing he
alone can ask the questions and
make her know what he knows.

====

How ridiculous. I LOVE IT, obviously. Way to go Sheri(Courtney)!