BASKING IN THE AFTERGLOW or IS THAT ALL THERE IS? There’s got to be a better way to go about this performance thing other than work-like-mad-for-months-then-do-one-show formula I’ve been perfecting. True, the “one shows” have been great, but geez. And my costumes are so big (“How big are they?!”), so big that they don’t fit in my house for storage. Perhaps I should consider minimalism. Or nudism. I find that my bare skin is quite easy to store. I usually keep it right there under the clothes, just in case I need it.
I’M IN CHARGE HERE! I’ve decided to start referring to myself as “the Alexander Haig of performance art.” Not only is it justifiable, given the right amount of time, wine and convoluted metaphors, but it is mostly exactly the sort of thing one would expect a performance artist to say. I’m prone to thinking, if not always shouting “I’m in charge here!” with or without any assassination attempts of dubiously qualified but undeniably charming higher-ups. In fact, I say it quite frequently in my home, surrounded by short persons under the biological human age of eight (I suspect non-human influences whose wiley other-agely smarts are beyond my radar and coping skills). Yes, I sometimes think my kids are aliens. The way they alienate me is alien to me. There. Have I covered the most popular forms and meanings for the word “alien?”
Kim
