Bay Window

Quote of the Day: "We've reached wigvana" -The lovely Kari and I on the perfection of Olivia's wig.
Quote of the Day II: "Is it a problem that I'm more attracted to mac and cheese than I am to human beings?" -The Queer Council on gay dating.

I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I do all my writing (also eating, homeworking, movie watching, visiting, etc.) from the same chair at our table in front of this lovely bay window that overlooks the street. I like to open all the windows because the view is very "Romantic Manhattan." We've got a clear shot down an ally, phone lines connecting rows of brownstone apartments, tree limbs that dangle in front of the glass, property fences, chain link fences, street signs, and the occasional arrest or drunk college student. Sometimes all in one unlucky person. I like being in this room because it's like being in a submarine or Star Trek spaceship. The ultimate fly on the wall position. Which I love. At least until I realize that windows are windows and as much as I enjoy the view, anyone can see in. Literally the neighborhood can see me live out 50% of my home life. The other 50% is spent sleeping. Usually with the window open so really it's not an improvement.

One day this summer I had just biked home from work on a blazing hot day. I have very little tolerance for shifts in temperature. I am happy as a clam from upper 50s to mid 70s. Chicago gets this for like, a week and a half every year. Maybe. I come from a long line of sweaty ladies, so this whole physical activity in the sun in the heat in my Orthodox Jewish garb absolutely necessitates stripping down to a bra and shorts within seconds of entering my apartment. I made myself a bite to eat and sat in my spot to wind down and have dinner. I didn't realize until about a half hour in. Made direct eye contact with a woman walking her dog. To that, I was wearing a pink bra with a bow on it. Because when your chest measures smaller than it did in 5th grade, you buy your bras in the children's section of target. Pink is inevitable. And they all have bows. If you try to cut off the bows, sometimes the bra breaks in half. So you cut your losses. You can counter act this by making a point to not wear any pink on the outside of your body ever.

Tonight the bay window is looking pretty damn handsome. I've developed an obsessive love of candles and have some fancy holiday ones in clear display. To add ambiance, I plugged in my roommate's strings of colored lights. It looks like I'm on a date, with myself, in the red light district. I dig it. It's freezing so I've busted out my favorite waffle shirt. It was my brothers and it has a yellow anarchy symbol spray painted on the front. And it doesn't smell like sweaty dude. So that's nice. And anyone who might be stalkerishly watching me has seen me down two bottles of tea in the past hour. Because there's nothing wrong with being really hydrated.

And we have bloody hands on our window pane. The end.

This is how to not write your directors notebook. Because when you put your mind to it, (not when you're gushing about your favorite window) you're a much better writer than you are a director.

Good night friends,
Kait