It's not easy being green.

In the past I've shied away from talking too much about my actual real life in this blog except in broad generalities, and I'll probably still be somewhat circumspect, but as more and more people who I actually know read it and tell me they are hoping for commentary on this or that, I find myself more inclined to be slightly more autobiographical. You may have noticed in the past that one of my more annoying quirks is sometimes contorting to avoid actually mentioning anyone I personally know by name (Mason being the notable exception) or to simply abbreviate their name as the first letter of their name. I've tired of this and am slowing moving towards actually referring to people by their name or handy nickname if they are so fortunate to have one, so if you find yourself mentioned as I write, feel free to contact me and tell me you don't want your name on here and you too can quickly be abbreviated back into anonymity.

If you know me personally and in real life away from this blog, then you probably know about the color parties, but I'll assume that not all of you do so bear with my short explanation. When I was in college in Charleston, my friends Eden and Noodle started throwing color parties: they deck out their house in said color, we all dress up and come have a fun time. Their parties were great and turned into competitive color challenges for those of us who took them seriously, leading to me responding to Leslie and Janan's green feather-duster feather covered shirt and lettuce (yes, real lettuce) skirt challenge by showing up to the silver party wrapped in a makeshift silver cape which gave way to reveal a loin-cloth covered in broken mirror pieces and wore a cast aluminum mohawk (yes, real aluminum). Our fate was sealed and the arms race continued until I left town and Eden and Noodle tired of the color party extravaganzas (though not before they did site specific pattern parties like polka dot put-put golf).

Once in New York, our ever growing group of former Chucktown kids decided we missed the color partying and that three of us were living under the same roof and had the space for occasional soirees, so (with Eden and Noodle's blessings, of course) we decided to dive in. The SC color parties had grown out of E&N loving the orange parties that friends of theirs had thrown in Portland, OR, and so had started with orange when they did their series, so we decided to honor the pedigree and start with orange the same. This was also made easier by the fact that several of our walls are orange and we had at the time a couple of orange chairs. Not being ones to slack off, we have in the course of the last year had orange, blue, pink, brown, white, and green parties.


Six blowouts in the course of a year (not counting the building-wide 4th of july party, our Thanksgiving get-together, our Christmas tree trimming party, and innumerable cookouts) can leave one fairly exhausted, but I still like throwing the shindigs and find myself always looking around for potential props for the next party. Already we are planning Red (no date set) and if I have my way, the music for the party will be nothing but Hawaiian music and jock jams.

I'm writing about all this (and probably boring the hell out of everyone who has heard me explain all this crap a thousand times before) because more than a couple of folks have asked me to write a little bit of a round-up about the most recent: the Green Party. I don't think I'm capable of doing a full run down, so I'll impart a few thoughts on the party and gripe about bad party etiquette and things that make me annoyed.

I'm pretty imperious about my get-togethers and have been pretty demanding that people dress in said color or go the hell somewhere else. And I mean it. Partially because if I (and my roommates) am(are) going to spend two weeks turning my apartment in to a full color environment, weaving a network of green dreamcatchers over my entire ceiling out of green clothesline string with real branches and faux seaweed hanging from it and cover my walls with astroturf and wrapping paper and blow up God-knows-how-many ballons then you can do better than blue jeans and a green t-shirt. But I don't really have that much against folks who are chickenshit about dressing up or are attending their first color party and are shy in their thematic pigmentation except for two things:

1)This is New York and their are always more people who will come to a party if there is any remote fun to be had and there is a limit on how many people an apartment can hold, no matter how big your loft is and the easiest way to draw a line with a theme party is to tell the folks who aren't going to get into the theme that it is pointless for them to be there and to go away.

2)people at theme parties who don't dress for it and invest in whatever silly idea you are working to immerse people in are the ones who are rude, make fun of people's costumes, drink all the booze but don't bring any and then complain, etc. Basically, those folks that know what the theme is and don't get into it are not fun to have at your party. As Christian told one obnoxious un-green girl who asked him where the beer was after people had resorted to hiding it from the non-green types, "It is at the corner store. You should go buy some."

Anyway, most people really go all out and the white party had almost completely everyone in all white and some insane costumes and for green we had some serious outfits that folks went all out for. Colin made a giant four-leaf clover outfit that kind of blew me away and then there was the dress made out of green tea bags and another made out of all green velcro and a fellow clad in Green Giant labels. Machine and the Dazzle contingent as always pleased and the mesh-fronted, assless, fuzzy caterpillar costume sported by Pretty Boy was certainly the most gawked at and show-stopping get-up of the evening. I unfortunately missed it when he did the caterpillar in said costume in the hallway.

The Ralph Nader Love Pit was done mostly as a joke but didn't go unused but I wasn't the among the tree-hugging folks down there so I'll leave it at that.

I was happy to hear that people have begun getting together and having pre-color party get-dressed parties, which we used to have in Charleston and are almost as fun as the main party itself.

All in all it was a fine night and one which I am getting bored of recounting. I got a long over-due review of Oh Death which I've promising a few folks so I'll save my limited bloggy attention up to hopefully attempt that tomorrow.

rollercoastering...

I'll not write much, because sitting at a computer for longer doesn't strike me as terribly appealing right now, but felt like I should perhaps squirrel through some of the dreck in my head while I have a few moments.

The last week has been a fairly ridiculous topsy-turvy experience, which I am going to laugh at one day and am walking away from feeling lucky to have such supportive and caring people around me. And this is being said with my ever-stalwart partner in crime, Mason, in another country playing at the Primavera Music Festival and touring about Spain/Portugal (he has been allowed to remain blissfully unaware of all the goings on, unless of course he chooses to read this while he should be cavorting with Spanish hotties and living a rock and roll lifestyle; it is all fine, I'll tell you all about it when you get home). It illuminated how closely nit my surrounding community is here in what is often unfairly portrayed as the impersonal big city. It is still interesting to watch how different folks respond to the emotionally jarring yank we have been on, alternately wondering where one of ours had been ushered off to, then whether or not he was alive, then how to get our hands on him so we could kill him (he is alive and getting help now, thank you for asking).

I'll get back in the swing of things and write about things promised in the past, movie reviews (X-III: would be fun if it wasn't so damn stupid and infuriating), about my glass fish spawning, and of course I'll reprise my role as pissed-off and over-it homo bitching about the idiocy of the revival of the gay bash amendment to drum up the bigot vote. Something for everyone, just let me get through this week as counselor, auctioneer, and real estate agent (speaking of which, know anyone -stable, sane and economically solvent- who is looking for a room in Brooklyn? Email me before I kick off a new craigslist pagent).