The Man in the Red Suit

This is a holiday-adjacent type story, set in a noir style. It is not finished and will be published in parts. When will it be done? I don’t know. Maybe it will never be done. Maybe this is it. Or maybe not. Anyway, this is Part 1.

It was a cold dark night. The single lightbulb in my barren office cast little light in relation to the blinking neon sign advertising the bar across the street.  My heart was pounding and my head throbbed.  I didn’t know if the whiskey I had in my desk drawer would help, but at this point I didn’t really care.  I pulled out the cork and took a swig.  It tasted like the cheap hooch that it was, but the burn in my throat was a welcome distraction.  I drank some more.

There was a knock at the door.  Tentative.  I sat, quiet, waiting.  I took a breath.  The knock came again.  Harder, more desperate.  

“It’s open.” I called, as put the whiskey back in my desk drawer, sliding it shut.  

The door opened slowly and the tip of a green hat appeared followed by a yellow tousle of hair. I heard the tinkle of little bells and realized the sound was coming from my visitor as they shuffled through the door.  As I caught the full view I did a double take.  It was a dame.  But a tiny dame, about the size of 10 year old girl.  She wore a short green dress with white fuzzy trim that matched her little pointed hat that seemed to cover the top of her ears.  She wore green tights and neat little green boots.  Her shoelaces were covered in tiny silver jingle bells dinging incessantly as she moved her feet.  I focused on her face.  She looked like a toy doll with almost round circles of too-bright pink blush on her almost unnaturally pale skin.  Her pink lipstick looked like paint on her tightly pursed lips.  Her eyes were red and her lashes were damp with tears.  In her hands she was wringing what looked to be a fuzzy whitish scarf which looked to be covered with large spots of dried blood.  Eh.  Maybe it was just the wrong color lipstick or mud. Whatever it was, I knew I didn’t want to know.  

“You’re the only one that can help me,” she gasped.  “Please.”

“Why me?  What help?  I don’t even know your name.” I quipped.  “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Have a seat,” I gestured at the empty rickety wooden chair in front of my desk.  She let out a deep breath and her knees sank.  For a moment I thought she might faint, but she looked down at the scarf, held it to her chest, and jingled her way to a seat.  

 She sat there, looking at the scarf.  I took pity on her.  “I think you need a drink,” I quipped as I pulled out the whiskey and looked around for a glass.  Even a tiny dame deserved to drink her hooch out of a glass, even if it wasn’t the cleanest.  I found one, wiped it off with my handkerchief and pored a not-too-healthy dose for this miniscule munchkin.   She reached for it, looking at my questioningly. 

“It’s fine.  I said.  I had some before you came in, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll have some with you.”  I took a pull on the bottle and she gulped down the whiskey.  She gasped, but held the glass out for another pour.  I obliged.  She drank that down, too.  She put down the glass and sighed, looking up at me.  

“I’m Holly.  Holly Aelph.”

“Elf?” I asked.

“No.  Aelph.  A.E.L.P.H.  Aelph.” 

“I need help finding my brother.  He went missing last night.  I could only find his scarf.”  She looked down at the scarf in her hands and her voice broke as she said, “this scarf.” 

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Barry.”

“That’s cute.  Holly & Berry.  Are you twins or somethin’?”

“We are twins.  But it isn’t as cute as you think.  It’s Barry, B.A.R.R.Y, not Berry.”  

Still Holly and Barry Aelph.  Pretty adorable.”  

“There is nothing adorable about Barry.  And he’s MISSING.  Can we get on to that part?”

“Okay, okay.  So, last night. That’s not long.  Have you gone to the police?” 

She looked at me with a glint of anger in her eyes. 

“Of course I did.  But they won’t do anything.  They never help our kind.”

“And what kind is that?”

“You know, elves.  The police don’t protect and serve us elves.  Besides Barry was dealing.  He was trying to make us enough money to get us out of here.  Hopefully somewhere warmer.”

“And what was Barry dealing? “  She didn’t say answer, so I continued.  “Hops?  Sugar? Crash? What was it?”

“Toys!” She cries. “He was dealing Toys!”   

We were both silent.  Toys was a popular drug.  The most popular drug.  Not that taking Toys was really more dangerous than any other drug.  But dealing it, dealing it was much more dangerous.  Unless you were the man in the red suit. 

Toys had one dealer, and only one dealer.  And if someone dealt Toys that was not the man in the red suit, they didn’t do it for long.   Because the man in the red suit was trouble. Big trouble.   

As far as anyone knew, his real name was Mr. Jolly.  At first glance, Mr. Jolly’s name seemed to fit him.  He had white hair, a bit white moustache, and a fluffy white beard.  His cheeks were pink and chubby, and his little red mouth sat innocently amongst all that white hair on his face.  He smelled like cinnamon as he constantly seemed to be sucking on little red cinnamon candies.  Little wire rimmed glasses shielded his eyes.  But when Mr. Jolly got mad his face changed.  He ripped off his glasses and his eyes grew red like a demon.  His mouth opening in rage was all sharp vicious teeth and tongue.  As he opened his mouth to yell, the red cinnamons and his resulting red saliva would erupt down the front of his white beard giving him the look of a deranged monster.  And when he got mad he liked to hurt people.  He liked it a lot.  

Mr. Jolly got mad a lot.  He had his men and they kept him informed.  He knew everything, everywhere in town, all the time.  He knew when people were sleeping, he knew when they were awake, he knew when they were bad and good, and he definitely knew when they were selling Toys.  

I finally spoke.  “This is bad.”  She just nodded.  

“Where did you find the scarf?” 

“On the corner of Rudolph and Pine.  There was a lot of footprints in the snow and a lot of blood and a lot of smashed Toys on the ground.  And the scarf.”

“He may already be dead.”

“Yeah, but I think I would know.  He is my twin.  But I know it’s bad.”  

“They probably have him up at The Pole.  But there’s no guarantee.  I can get us in, but I may not be able to get any of us back out.”  I looked outside and saw the snow drops building on top of the neon sign.  Christmas Eve was a helluva night to fight Mr. Jolly.  Of course, there was never a good night to fight Mr. Jolly.  

“Do you shoot?”

“I grew up in Toy town. Yeah, I can shoot.”  She pulled a miniscule revolver out from her little boot.  

“That may work on elves, but it isn’t going to be enough for tonight.”  I walked to the closet and pulled out a Chicago typewriter, what laymen call a tommy gun.  “Can you handle this?”  She nodded.  I handed it to her as she stood up and then tossed a couple of bandoliers of ammo at her. 

“Put those on.  We’ll need all we can get.”  After putting my own bandoliers on, I slung a sawed-off shotgun over each shoulder.  I had my pistol in my shoulder holster as a backup and some throwing knives in each boot.  They were hard to get, but I knew we would need a couple of grenades for this job, so a grabbed them and attached them to my belt.  Finally, I grabbed a couple of headlamps, tossed her one and put on the other myself.  Then,  I picked up my own “typewriter.”  

“You ready?”

“Can we have another shot first? It’s cold out there.”

“We aren’t going outside, but, yeah, one for the road. Or maybe I should say under the road.”

There wasn’t much left in the bottle, but we each got a last gulp.

“That’s dead.  Let’s hope we kill a few more things tonight.” 

She shuddered.

Proverb for the Day Archives – November and December 2020

Vote live your life depends on it, because you can bet that someone’s does.   

If you don’t want to be called a racist, stop acting like one. 

Fucking vote.  

Accumulated snowflakes melt to become the most powerful rivers.

I don’t understand bodies or computers.  But I do know that neither works as well as they get older.  

If you revel in the misery of others, I am going to at least chuckle at your downfall.  

I think a lot of things that I don’t say because my mouth is nicer than my brain.

Sometimes you have to treat experiences like you treat crab cakes.  Some are amazing and some are flavorless and mostly bread.  But if you don’t try them you miss out on the excellent ones.  Don’t be afraid of trying things and don’t be afraid of abandoning mediocrity.   

I don’t have penis envy.  I can get those online and they even come in rainbow colors and vibrate.  

Autocorrect is my worst enema.  

Humankind.  Be both.  

Some are wise and some are otherwise.  

When you want a bow you have to tie it.  You can’t just point at a piece of string and say “there’s my bow.”  

No hitting. Use your words so the pain lasts forever.

Two in the hand gathers no moss.

I have worried all my life about failing. The only thing I have ever really failed to do is trust myself.

Ho…. Ho…. Ho….

Happy …….  Shelter-in-Place?  

It doesn’t really sound right.  But there it is.  It’s what we’ve got.  I don’t feel very festive this year.  We have not put up a tree or a wreath or stockings and at this point I don’t know if I am going to do that.  Maybe….  Maybe not….  I don’t know.  I am struggling at this point with Christmas presents and cards.  Can someone else do it for me?   It just doesn’t really feel like the holidays, to me.  Every day just runs into every other day and then it’s a week and a month and pretty soon we will be at a year.  

Usually at the holidays I write something cute and clever.  This one is not.  It doesn’t have a theme.  It isn’t funny.  I don’t have the energy to be cute, and zoom has sucked all the clever out of me.  I am not feeling very funny and I don’t have the energy to come up with a theme.  I do have some bitter and bitchy leftover, though, so there may be sprinkles of that here and there.  

I did want to reach out, though.  I haven’t in a long time.  There hasn’t seemed much of a point in reaching out to you all with no shows and nothing exciting and nothing to say.  I feel like I have spent all year in my home cave and rarely come out.  What about you?  How are you doing?  

It was going to be such a great year.  There were so many great things that were supposed to happen.  I was jam-packed through June with a slight breather after and then more amazing things planed.  But instead, my last performance in 2020 was a run of a theatrical show for the Fresno Rogue Festival over two weekends.  We started as a cast of 6, which the second weekend diminished to 4 and then 3 as a result of bicycle accidents and COVID fears.  We still had a good audience, which made me concerned for our audience, who didn’t seem to be concerned for themselves.  The week after was supposed to be our third annual Burlesque Extravaganza, but we were faced with mandatory shelter-in-place, which coincided with mandatory telework for Mr. Velvet and I.   (Mind you, I am absolutely grateful we both have work that enables us to do mandatory telework, despite the fact that I do not love mandatory telework.). So, he took the couch, and I am at the kitchen table.  Our internet doesn’t currently extend to upstairs very well, or the basement, so we are stuck with our main floor.  Fun times.  

On top of all of the telework fun, we were/are besieged by mice and we had pigeons taking over our laundry room.   At least the pigeons were relatively easy to oust, although they left a huge stinky mess.  We are still fighting the mice, although we have had rodent control at our house five times by now and the “experts” still have failed to resolve the rodent invasion.  

I have been busy….  We have gotten a lot done.  I cleaned and reorganized the basement and my costumes, we cleaned everywhere in the house, and went through all the drawers and closets.  (We still need to clean the garage, but are hampered by the remaining bags and boxes of things to get rid of…)

Being home more made us realize how much deferred work on the house needed to be, well, not deferred anymore.  While I had patched and filled some wood rot in the back of the house (estimated 1940’s add-on to the Victorian home) almost since we bought the house (18 years ago), it had gotten past the slapdash fixes and needed attention.  I mean, when the decking has a hole big enough for the dog to fall through, you kind of need to replace it.  So, we hired a contractor to come in and repair the house and then paint it when completed.  It was annoying, but necessary, and the contractors ended up doing a nice job overall.  After they left, we started refinishing the spare bedroom, which is still in process.  Mr. Velvet decided to sand, oil, and varnish the floor, which has never been finished and is mostly original to the house.  

All the fires in CA didn’t make life easier.  You couldn’t be inside with other people and you couldn’t go outside.  And then we had the day that looked like an episode from the Twilight Zone where the world was ending.  Maybe it still is ending….  Just more slowly than we anticipated.  But, obviously I have hope for the future, otherwise why fix my house?  

Work is…. Harder.  For both of us.  Although we are both very thankful to have the work that we do.  I have been dancing a lot – mostly in our little parlor – taking and teaching classes on Zoom.  I am working on a Duncan dance teacher certification, which has given me a goal and something regular to work on.  I have done a few online shows, but it isn’t the same.  Still, it is better than not performing at all.   I have created a few new acts, and enjoying it when I feel creative enough to do so. 

The dog is fine, enjoys us being home, and is peeing on the floor less.  I wish she was the mouser she used to be, but her geriatric self can only muster the occasional stare at a mouse, which doesn’t really seem to do anything (to no one’s surprise.). The guinea pigs are okay, although I have had to treat them for mites twice this year, a result, I think of the invading mice who really enjoy stealing the guinea pig’s food.  (fucking mice….)

We did go to Monterey for a few days in July to get away.  We spent a lot of time hiking and not much else.  We also made it out to Hawaii in November.  Maybe it was stupid, but we had to get tested to go, as did other tourists to the island and we stayed far far away from people.  We hiked and walked and swam and that was it.  No shopping, no dining out, no people.  

I do miss people.  I mean, not the selfish, non-mask wearing conspiracy theory crazy people who seem to abound, but my friends, my students, my coworkers.  I miss performing in theaters with live audiences.  I miss teaching people in person.  I miss learning in person.   I have hope things will get better.  Vaccines are on the way and I am hoping life will be more normal by this time next year. 

I don’t know what 2021 will hold, but I am hoping.  I am hoping things get back to normal.  I am hoping people stop getting sick and spreading COVID.  I am hoping that our country can reunite a little bit and stop fighting so much about things that negatively impact so many people.  I hope we put funds where they do the most good – on education and the environment, and I hope we can stop the downward spiral of global warming before it is too late.  Maybe it already is.  But I am hoping.  I am hoping and working and I hope that you are too.   

So…. Happy Shelter-in-Place.  Happy Holidays.  Happy Hopes and Dreams.  I hope they come true.  

Much love – 

Red Velvet 

Proverb for the Day Archives: October 2020

You can be angry and fight, or you can just stop caring at all.  

Some people reap what other people have sown.

I don’t wish ill will on others, but that doesn’t mean I don’t smile when it happens.  

Two broken chairs can be two broken chairs, but sometimes they can make something even better: a new chair.

You don’t have to create art all the time to be an artist.  

The terminology referring to ‘living during one’s golden years’ is NOT actually a reference to golden showers.  

The rising tide can’t lift everyone’d boats when some people’s boats have already sunk. 

Don’t talk to me about the art of the deal when all you really know is the art of the steal.  

You have to give yourself time to be smart.

Thinking – It does a country good.  

You will disappoint people and that is okay.  

Value yourself for who you are.  

If you don’t use your rights, you will lose your rights.

Nobody loves a logical fallacy except those making them.  

When you know what you are doing, you can choose to do what you want.

Stop giving me a new bucket with the same old crap inside.

I could have sliced you through the heart with my words, but I chose not to.  I am such a nice bitch.

I’m not batty just because I like bats.

I don’t want to take away your rights, I just want everyone else to have the same rights.

No vote equals no voice.  

Stop trying to dick-tate my life.

Proverb for the Day Archives: Summer-ish 2020

We could relate to other people better if we weren’t spending so much time trying to appear perfect.  

You can tell a lot by a woman’s hands. For example, if they are around your neck, she is probably angry at you.  

No matter how broken you are, you are still whole.  

People incapable of guilt usually have a good time. 

We could relate to other people better if we weren’t spending so much time trying to appear perfect.  

Courage doesn’t always roar.  Sometimes it is the voice at the end of the day that says “I will try again tomorrow.”   

You bite into some days like a slice of juicy watermelon.   And then you remember that you don’t like watermelon.  

Everything is personal if you are a person.  

Apparently there are huge groups of people whose parents never taught them to care about anyone but themselves.

You can accept something you can’t change or change something you can’t accept.  

I’m melting!!!  

Covering your mouth with a mask does not actually inhibit your freedom of speech.

Failing to decide is a decision.  

It is harder to work together when you are apart.  

IPhone does not have spell check.  It has spell mandate.  

Wearing a cape doesn’t make you a hero.

Sometimes you just have to grin and bare it.

Whenever I cry, there is a reason.  I never said it was a good one.  

Some days you wake up believing that a dragon really did eat the sun.   

Managing is is not about pushing paper, it is about engaging people.  

I was planning on taking over the world this morning but I overslept.  

In the spectrum of pain, no pain is always preferable.  

The only thing worse than knowing is not knowing.  

Love everyone, but mostly yourself.  

Forgive and learn.  

Time is fleeting.  Except when you are stuck at home during COVID.   

It is hard to say anything nice about a person who has nothing nice to say.

It’s always darkest when you have no hope left.

On Being Seen

So many struggle to be seen…  Sometimes not even knowing that they want to be seen, but knowing that they are missing something, missing a component, missing some facet that makes them a little more complete.  

And now, in a technologically advanced civilization where we rarely put down our phones to engage an entire conversation…  now, it’s even worse.  We are stuck in a pandemic.  How – how – how will we ever be seen again?  We may not be asking ourselves in this way.  Nevertheless, we are without.

It isn’t that people aren’t busy.  One friend says: “I have a zoom date every night of the week.”  But are you being seen?  Really being seen?  

Because being seen is hard in person, let alone on social media or meeting platforms like zoom or …  whatever you use…  

Whether you are introverted or extroverted, we all have a desire, a need – to be seen on some level.  But what do we see, really, when we look at the talking head on a zoom call?  

We see a flat two-dimensional face.  Is that a face?  Wait, is that their ear melting into the background?  Yes.  That is them.  A fuzzy version of them.  Is that their smile?  Sort-of.  There… that is that little tilt of the head that I know.  Isn’t it?

But how do I see you?  I want to see you, but do I see you?   Are you showing me yourself or are you putting on that funny little face you use when you think someone is taking your picture?  Are you being you?  Can you let me into that little screen with you?  Because I feel like we are both watching the television and screaming at the football players that will never…ever…ever…hear us.   

And are you looking at your phone while you are in this zoom meeting with me? Because I think that is what you are doing. Your eyes keep drifting down, almost closed, as you peer at something. Something that isn’t me.

Not that I blame you. Not if my face reacts anything like your face reacts on the screen. Your lips are delayed with your words sometimes and are faster than your words for others. Your microexpressions are gone – that little smirk you get before you are sarcastic – I never see it anymore. I think you are being sarcastic, but how do I tell now without your forewarning smirk?

I can look into your eyes forever now because the blinks are so fast that they often don’t show up on the screen.  And your eyes– they just stare – staring straight ahead sometimes.  Are you looking at me or something beyond the computer screen?  I am getting lost in your eyes, but not like in the old movies.  Instead, I am tired of looking into them without that look of realization and recognition that we normally have when our eyes connect.  In person.  But we aren’t ever really connecting on this screen.  I am connecting with a slightly delayed version of you.  The you that was you 5 seconds ago, or maybe 10.  Not the you now.  Not the one that exists at this very second.  Because that time only exists for you now and for me 10 seconds from now.  We are never really in the same place at the same time because the place is nowhere and the time is ephemeral.  

And I miss you.  All of you.  I miss the parts of you that I can’t see in a little box on the computer screen.  All those parts of you that I see when I see you. I miss the sound of your breath and the catch of it when you release tension, your sighs.  I miss that sound in the back of the throat that you get right before you start to laugh.  And I miss your laughs.  Your complete laughs.  The ones I can hear even when I am talking and don’t get truncated or drowned out by noise silencing programs on the meeting platform.  

I miss the sound of your footsteps and the sight of your feet coming to half toe when you are really trying to pay attention. I miss your folded arms, the twitching of your knee or foot when you are impatient.  I miss the strands of hair that fall in your face and the dangle of your really long earrings.  Are you even wearing earrings anymore?  I don’t see them on the calls…  I miss the little wrinkles around your eyes when you have one of your big smiles – the ones that light up your whole face.  Am I missing that because of the camera or are you never that happy anymore?  I miss seeing you happy.  

I miss the little pucker of your mouth.  The one you make when you think you mighty cry but you don’t want to cry.  I miss your ugly crying face, because you know you don’t have one of those pretty crying faces, and that is okay.  

I miss the tilt of your chin when you get really mad and resolute.  I miss the swish of your clothes when you walk.  I miss the smell of that shampoo you use and that really nice smelling body glitter.  And I miss getting the edges of myself accidentally sprayed by you in the dressing room as you hurriedly get ready for the show.  

I miss seeing the tension in your neck and your back when you have had a hard day and I miss seeing you relax when it is all over. I miss you feeling comfortable enough to be yourself in the moment. This moment, or the next moment, or the one after that. The same moment, at the same time, together.

Yes, I see you on that little screen.  Tiny you, blurry you, ‘touch up my appearance” you.  It is like looking at a little occasionally moving picture of you.  But it is not like seeing the real you, because I do that with more than my eyes.  I do it with sights, sounds, smells, touch.  I do it with my brain and I do it with my heart.  It requires so much more than the eyes, the being seen.  I see you on the screen in front of me.  Are you there to see?  Are you letting me in?  Are you letting me see the real you like you would if we were sitting together?  Right now I feel like I am seeing my memory of you, I am not seeing you.  I am seeing what I want to remember of seeing you.  And remembering is good, but not as good as the real thing.  

I miss seeing you.  Really seeing you.    

Do you miss seeing me? Because I miss allowing myself to be seen.

Proverb for the Day Archives: June and July 2020

If you rely on other people to make you happy your happiness will be unreliable.

Being bored is not the same as being restless.

Courage is the ability to move ahead in spite of our fear.

If I knew, I would tell you.

You can’t burn bridges that were never built.

I’m fine except for the moments I am not.

I am sorry I’m late but I didn’t want to come.

Statistics are more than numbers when they are your friends.

Like Sisyphus, we are all rolling rocks up the hill.  However, some people are rolling pebbles, some boulders, and some mountains.  And yet others are rolling piles of shit while telling everyone else it is gold.

Some days I just can’t.  And that is okay.

It only takes one asshole to ruin the party.

You can’t wring your hands and roll up your sleeves at the same time.

I have plenty to do.  I just don’t want to do any of it.

You can’t give more than you have.

Sometimes I miss my parents.  Other times I worry they will come for a visit.

There are the things you want to do and the things you need to do.  Sometimes they actually intersect.

You can hide in your house or you can hang out with people and get sick.

Going maskless is not freedom.  Living is.

I didn’t say you were stupid.  I implied it.

Two in the hand is worth washing them. For 20 seconds.  Less work, more art.

What doesn’t kill you makes you really pissed off.

I don’t hate you as much as I hate myself.

We didn’t need a god to create hell.  We did that all on our own.

Everyone wants to be self employed until they realize they still hate their boss.

Less sleep, more snuggles.

I would explain logic to you, but you are obviously an asshat and not worthy of my time.

You can’t always paddle your way out of the storm.  Sometimes you just have to ride through it.

I am sorry life handed you a poop sandwich when you obviously ordered the salad.

No. I can’t always get what I want.  But if I ordered it and paid for it I should fucking get it.

Noooooooooooo…..

Proverb for the Day Archives: May 2020

Bad systems ruin good people.

Let’s be alone together.

You can count on an asshole to be an asshole.

 

Every day is another opportunity to revisit each one of the seven stages of grief.

If I only cry once per day, that is a pretty good accomplishment right now.

The weirdest thing about today was that it felt almost normal.

A haircut is not going to fix what’s wrong with you.

 

Today is the first day of the rest of pandemic.

If we weren’t under shelter-in-place I would bitch slap the fuck out of the next person to publicly claim how happy they are and that this time at home was exactly what they needed.

I respect your right to a different opinion; however, I don’t respect your right to be a myopic asshat.
Bringing a knife to a gun fight is like bringing penicillin to a viral infection.

Top thing to do during shelter-in-place: Not die.

I would like you better if you whined with me instead of at me.

Give yourself credit for what you are accomplishing right now rather than hating on yourself for what you are not.

I’m not needy, I’m wanty.

Let’s be damaged together.

We are in the midst of a pandemic and I succeeded by only crying once today. Or maybe twice.  Three times?  Anyway, I still fucking succeeded.

The more you know what you are doing, the more you can do what you want.

Don’t hate people, hate the virus… And the monsters that masquerade as people.

Black lives matter and if you don’t understand that, you are racist.

In difficult times, you move forward in small steps.

The time will come when you can think about the future without crying.

 

 

I did a thing…

So, I did a thing over the weekend. It is not anything I ever anticipated doing. It isn’t anything I ever thought I would do. I never really wanted to do it. But, then I did. I did it.

….

 

And what was it that I did? You may well ask. And I may well tell you.

 

Enough of the an……….tici……………….pation…………………………………… Isn’t it?

 

Please forgive me. I haven’t written in months because why would I?   (I mean of course I could, but since my newsletters and musings are really a way to try to get interest and get asses in seats at shows and there haven’t been any of those…well, I haven’t really been very motivated.) Oh, and I AM a TEASE. Because burlesque artiste… but, whatever.

Okay – so I will tell you. Done teasing. At least for now. More teasing to come later.

……..

So, what I did is……. I filmed a burlesque act.

…….

I can hear you now. “So, fucking what, Red Velvet?” I can hear it come out of your mouth. Along with, “You film all the damn time. You film choreo in progress, you film rehearsals. You film every fucking show. So what is the big fucking deal already?”

But it is a big deal. Because I never wanted, planned, or anticipated filming a burlesque act for show consumption in my fucking house. I never imagined trying to instill production values in a video that would be in my personal space with my furniture, my lighting, my space, and send it to someone for a production. I never thought I would be dancing “on stage” in my own home. So, that is why it was a big deal.

I have done a couple of things since we went into shelter-in-place. One of my students did an early quarantine show and asked me to participate. And I said yes. But I didn’t feel like dancing. I was depressed and we were in a very passionate battle (still in said battle) with mice trying to take over my home. So, I read a story… “How the Trump Stole Feminism,” based on “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Not a new story, but my own parody. Mine to read. And it was fun. But I wasn’t ready to dance. Nor strip. In my house. During a pandemic. Nope. Nope. Nope.

……

So, what changed? Time… that changed. We were in shelter-in-place for a month, now two, then three. And who knows when theaters will be allowed to open again or what that will look like. And then, the penultimate reason…. The theater I work with decided to do a June fundraiser. And they wanted me to do a number in it… Oh, gee. I guess I have to get my ass in gear and do something. (sigh, anxiety, and then the wheels started churning….)

… Okay – so, now what? I thought. And I started thinking.   And she thought, and she thought, and she thought, thought, thought, thought (Grinch reference, sorry.)   And while I was pondering this performing thing, I decided, what the hell. What else is happening? Not a lot of productions right now, but someone was taking applications for a show, so I applied. And I got accepted. Okay – now how to make this work….

So, I played with space. I played with lighting. I played with camera angles and positioning. And let me tell you – those things are not the easiest in a Victorian home with tiny rooms and lots of stuff. But, I worked it out. And I came up with a recording that has decent production values and I don’t actually hate. Yay me! You can see it (if you pay money and watch) at Name That Song-lesque on May 30^th. You can purchase tickets at elliequinnpresents.square.site.

And I am working on two other numbers right now, one of which I will be performing for The EXIT Theatre Online Fundraiser. Those two numbers actually feature rooms in my home. Because if you can’t fix it, feature it….(at least that is what the burlesque legends have taught me.)  The fundraiser happens June the 14^th. You can find out more about the fundraiser or donate money (the EXIT Theatre is a 501(3)(c) non profit organization) at www.theexit.org.

So, I won’t see you at either show, but YOU – you CAN see me… If you choose to do so. But, it WILL be a TEASE! (Burlesque – you should know that by now…)

Looking forward to when I can actually see you in person and hopefully give you a hug. My introverted self misses people so much (mostly hugs and applause, but those are REAL!!).

 

Much love –  Red Velvet

 

Proverb for the Day Archives – April 2020

Don’t wait until your death bed to tell people how you feel. Tell them to fuck off right now.

 

Doing the best we can do is all we can do.

 

Life is generally good, but that doesn’t mean that every day is good.

 

The best part of the relationship is when they wave from more than 6 feet away after they leave the package on your doorstep.

 

Our current regime’s motto might as well be: “All for some and none for all.”

 

Real mice are not as cute as cartoon mice.

 

Just apologize already.

 

I now believe that the apocalypse is going to come while most of us are sitting at home in our underwear.

 

A stopped clock is correct twice a day, but a sundial can be used to stab someone, even at nighttime.

 

Some days my agenda is to be fabulous. Other days my agenda is to try not to cry into my cereal at breakfast.

 

Shelter-in-place is now. Death is forever.

 

No, I am not loving this.

 

If now is not the time for truth, when is?

 

Less is more. But more is also more.

 

You can fight and cry at the same time.

 

The truth will out, but only if we look for it.

 

It’s okay if you are not at your best right now.

 

Is it a robe or a dress?   Who fucking cares?

 

If I could go back in time, I would have bought a lot more duct tape and taped a lot more people’s mouths shut when I had the chance.

 

If you thought you were perfect you would be farther from perfection than you are now.

 

Sometimes you need a distraction from your distraction.

 

If this is the new normal, it sucks ass.