interest. She was the cutesie shop girl, helping him find a book for a made-up
reason so he could talk to her.
a long cute/awkward monologue about how it must be hard to be a cute girl in
the city, because you just want to do your job and help someone out, and then
they end up asking you out, and you just wanted to be helpful.
stand-up, and he talks about how being a pretty girl in the world means that
you have to be every guy’s walking cum fantasy. That as soon as a guy looks at
you, you feel shot in the eye with cum. You walk down the street, and have
buckets of cum thrown at you.
effect, but. C’est vrai, non?
how to carry myself authentically in the
world, without feeling usurped by other people’s impressions and thoughts about
me, particularly about my appearance, and therefore without hiding myself,
internally or externally.
a little straighter, walk a little more precisely, and also stop breathing. I
withdraw a part, an authentic part, of myself when I know you’re watching.
here, because one hopes that people see more than visage while I’m in
performance. And that I offer more than visage, too.
to “change it,” that I withdraw, or protect a part of myself when I notice you
noticing. I thought that if put up a shield around myself when I notice leers
or glances or lolling tongues, that I was doing something inauthentic, that I
was hiding myself, which is what I’m attempting not to do in this lifetime.
everyone’s thoughts are benevolent. Not everyone who looks is looking with
kindness. And I don’t want to be a target for cum-buckets.
have to put up some kind of armor or protection (or, erm, prophylactic) in the world of men. Sorry,
guys. But, I can’t expose the all of me, because that lays it out to be
perverted, literally. There is
some kind of a way that I need to be able to walk with a bit of a buffer
between me and you so that I don’t get thrown by all the lustful thoughts.
believe I’m hot shit. But, a) if you read this for any period of time, you know
that’s not true, and b) so what. I know that I am not the most hideous thing to
walk the planet, and I know I garner unwanted attention that is purely
get; c’est la vie), the practice was over, and I was walking to the play
house’s kitchen to throw away my tea. One of the men who’d been auditioning was
milling around the entrance to the kitchen. He said he needed to use the
bathroom which was why he was in that section of the house, but he never
actually went. He made small talk, and then asked if he could give me his
and kind human beings, I said yeah, sure. And then he tried to get me to
remember his phone number, to recite it, and when that was obviously not working, and I’d
realized enough that this was an “advancement,” I made no significant effort to
get a piece of paper or take out my phone, and the whole thing just faded and I
said, maybe I’d see you at rehearsal sometime.
authentic, and show up, and be present. And I don’t want your grubby fantasy paws on