"I am going to fuck you in the heart" Travis Preston (one of my college teachers) the first thing he said to us the first day of class

My mother has this theory that its a good thing when she doesn't hear from me. Her theory is that I only call when something is wrong, when I am not to be heard from it is actually a good thing.

So good ole' blogger kay here might be included in an actual documentary, and here is the amusing part, on heroism. (Up Up and Away!) Yes, I was talking to someone who has requested not to be mentioned, so let's just call him-in tribute to the comic Doonesbury- "-" about heroes and what makes something heroic and he was sufficiently impressed by my ideas to ask me to be interviewed. The interview is set for wednesday so if anything happens with that I will keep you posted.

I have to say considering my involvement with the arts and so forth that I am incredibly skeptical about these kinds of projects, first about them actually being completed and second about anyone ever seeing them once they are. This skepticism might account for why I can not actually finish a story to save my ass.

So I went on a second date last night with "-" and um I was a very very bad bunni. The type of bad bunni who wakes up the next day and immediately thinks "I REALLY should not have done that" and has an anxiety attack on the spot. I actually even called "-" later in the day and we are supposed to get together wednesday, which I suppose should make me feel better, and make me think he doesn't hold my badness against me. (What exactly did I do? I would rather not say, let's just say that alcohol and moderate nudity was involved.) But still regardless of his reaction, I should not have done it and I can only hope the universe will see fit not to punish me for my transgression.

On another note, I don't have too much to say these days because as the boys at work will tell you, I hve actually been pretty happy lately, and as much as I hate to admit being happy is just not conducive to writing. I need that cynical edge that unsatisfied longing in order to write. Happiness is just so damn boring.

And since I have very little to write about privately I would like to take this time and talk about the character of Olivier on Six Feet Under. I had an epiphany this week when I realized that why I respond to Olivier is that I had a had a teacher just like him in college,Travis Preston. He was our directing teacher. The quote at the beginning of this entry is from him. He was the kind of guy who would resort to using very personal information and making students cry in order to get a specific performance. I truly hated him, but he did teach me some of the most important lessons about making art. He told us never to worry about making safe art, he said the safe art will take care of itself. He said you have to dare to suck, dare to fail, because that is the only time you might say something truly interesing. He always said he would rather watch an interesting failure than a safe sucess. it wasn't until two years later that I realized how important his class was in teaching me certain ideas that are absolutely necessary for me to remember when I write.

So Olivier is then a kind of paradigm the teacher who has to torture in order to instruct. I, on the other hand, had another teacher, Davd Bucknam, who was nominated for a Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Music for his original musical The Waves in 1990. I have checked and there are no website or webpages for David and I am going to recitfy that because David was one of the best teachers I ever had. He often was the thing that kept us alive, the only thing that kept us through the day. We lived and died for David and what he thought of our work. Doing well in his class was often the only thing that made me happy ( particularly that last year when so little made me happy at all). Anyway, David taught me a lot of important lessons as well, but the most important thing he taught me was what kind of teacher I want to be. I saw Travis and I saw David, both taught me important lessons, but there is only one whom I still love. Unfortunately David is no longer alive, and so I never could share how much he meant to me. How much he meant to all of us. But when he died a lot of people drove all night, some washed their hair in McDonald's bathrooms and slept in gas station parking lots to make it there. It was worth it to be there to show him, even too late, how much he meant to us. And so I prefer to model myself after David.


"Because out here it's fuck your friends. Kill your parents. And 'Have a nice day.'" Kevin Spacey as Buddy Ackerman in Swimming with Sharks


good good day

bad bad bunni


Ok so this is the story of yesterday and why I didn't blog. Don't worry just because I didn't blog doesn't mean that I actually got work done. So yesterday was the day of the date bait date. But before we get to that there is a whole lot of OTHER stuff to get through first. First, remember Chris D. (just say yes) the guy who was the man of my dreams five years ago and now we occassionally go out and I think why can't I have this man? And we fool around and then he goes back to his life and I go back to mine. So he called while I was going through my two hour picking out clothes and make up while totally panicking routine. (I got a clothes consult from two staight men and one gay one.) He wants to meet for drinks so I say ok, but it has to be early because I have a date, which he is supportive of, which is wierd because we used to date. So I digress. So we agree to meet for drinks and I know this is going to be a test of my will power, to walk away from Chris and go on this date will prove that I can walk away from a sure but short lived night of pleasure to go on a date where a relationship might develop or on other hand I might end up sobbing talking to my cat about how I will never love again. And no one wants that, especially my cat.

and now a brief side note, I would like to introduce a new word, fuss budgety-as in I am a fussbudgety little thing. Say it with me. Ok now back to the entry.

So after I selected what to wear (I had three options, in the end I chose none of the above) I had to go to therapy. So I walk one block and I see this guy Pete ( I believe I mentioned him before, he walked me to my door twice, acted all enthralled and then called once and didn't leave a return number) So I see him on the street and he's all about I didn't call and I'm all about hey you didn't leave a NUMBER. So he asks if he call me again, to which I again say yes, I mean, why not?

So then I go another two block and I'm at the corner and I see this nice restaurant. My friend JP Walt and I are always looking for good new places to eat so I took one of the take out menus they had outside in a big bowl and this really cute and let me say this again this REALLY CUTE guy is like "Hey you can't just take those." Now you know when you are really focused on something and someone says something teasing but it takes you a minute to understand? No? OK then I am just idiot, but it took a minute to realize that he was just teasing. So I say "Oh you're just teasing" and I walk across the street. But as I cross I hear him calling me. Now normally I would keep walking, but I don't think you truly understand the cuteness that was calling to me from the corner. So I turned and he asked me if he could take me to lunch. So I told him I was on my way somewhere. So he asked for my number so I crossed the street and gave it to him. Again do not deny the cuteness. I won't relate the whole boring conversation to you, but he ended it by asking to run away with him to France. Why the hell not? I told him I would do it this weekend. He'll never call. (The scary thing is that I actually had my passport on me, but I couldn't leave my cat.)

So I have managed to go four blocks and get two offers from men. Clearly I had selected the correct outfit for the date.

So I left therapy and ran home to change my top (I decided it was too revealing) and now I would like to offer another idea about dating. In NYC, dating is like trying to get a high level job, you have to call in favors from friends, you have to go to job expos, and log onto monster.com and so forth. Now in dating you have to call in favors from friends, you go to date bait instead of expos, you go to match.com instead of monster. You spend hours picking out an outfit that says fun and sexy, but not easy instead of picking out an outfit that says responsibly, tasteful, conventional, and yet creative. Back to the narrative. So I meet Chris D for a drink and predictably there is chemistry. (Chris D and I will never actually be together but that doesn't stop us from actually fooling around.) So of course there was a lot of flirting and it was very difficult but I did actually drag myself away from Chris D (although we are suppose to hang out next week, ahem) and go on the date. Which started at 9 pm and ended at 1 am.

Ok now here is another problem. Last night my dating companion has requested, well more than requested, that I not write about him here. Well, that is a violation of what bunniblog is all about. The whole point is that my life gets reported here. I remember when I was in college I had friend named for our purposes here Treehugger (I would like to say that he has written about me extensively on his journal at diaryland using my real name and without my permission. Am I bitter? Absolutely.But I can still prove that I am the better person. So there.) So Treehugger starts talking me one day "So I have this problem with my girlfriend" and I was in a particuladrly foul mood and so I said "Don't use that word" And so he says "What word?" And I say "Girlfriend." So I thought that would end the conversation. But no he pauses and then says "So I have this uh dog and this dog sometimes goes into other people's yards, but she says she is still my dog." Well I was on the floor laughing. And so from that time forward all of his girlfriends were referred to as dogs (yes the massing throngs of women that chased Treehugger). Anyway what is required here is a creative solution.

I am not going to refer to my date as a dog. Nor will I use a pseudonym. I think I can solve the problem here my talking about the date but not talking about him. I shall consider it a creative writing excersize.

OK let's just say the date went very well. We are supposed to see each other again tomorrow night. And I got a response from my match ad. And I have a dinner date on monday with Kab (a friend if mine came up with a better pseudonym, Kalibaba, which does have a nice ring to it, but could be um a little insulting so we will stick to Kab for now). You know when it rains, put the house up on stilts people because a monsoon is coming. A MONSOON. But the good news is that little bunni here is happier than she has been in a long time, not just because the date went well because I have options. That's right you know, do I take the blue pill or the red pill? (How about I take the hot young guy to France pill? PLEEEEEASE?)
Ok I would like to take today's entry to actually talk about this blog (the introspection begins). When I started this blog it was actually simply a way for my friends to find out what was going on in my life in case they couldn't get me by phone or IM (and typing all of this out in email after email got tiring). I figured a blog would allow me to type it once and save me the trouble. I tried to make the site as anonymous as possible so that if my students happened to stumble on to it they wouldn't know it was me.

I was very careful about who I gave the address to and for a while it seemed like only two or three people were reading it (I could be completely wrong about that, no way of knowing). And then I started seeing how the blog could be and it has turned into this whole project. But here is the point, the blog is and should be seen as a stream of consciousness. So what you are getting here is what I think with very little of the refinement or judgement process involved (and this is just part of what goes on in my mind all the time) and that is the IDEA behind it. There actually is some sort of thought behind bunniblog, there is actually a whole idealogy behind it, and that idealogy firmly rests on not thinking about the entries too much but simply posting them.

So don't think about shout outs too much JUST SHOUT OUT (how many hints people, how many?)
"What is it they say about the love of a good woman? That it will be sure to bite her in the ass." Ashley Judd Somebody Like You (which HBO for unknown reasons shows a hundred times a month)

don't even ask just accept that she is rightfully shamed

bad bunni-living up to her name-sick and has two glasses of red wine and so became ahem a little hostile last night. In the words of malory knox from Natural Born Killers "bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad"
I realize that my little poll is sexist and there should be a sister poll for women who give out the wrong number to men.

Thank you for taking the time to fill out our poll. Your responses will help us to improve our service in the future.

I gave you the wrong number because:

a. I just moved and received a new number, which in the fluster of meeting you I momentarily forgot

b. I am at the maturity level of the average fourth grader

c. Youou were totally oblivious to my obvious disinterest/disgust at your overtures

d. I can not date anyone who doesn't recognize Hagen Daas as a major food group

e. I am a closet sadist that secretly relishes the pain you experience upon the discover of the faked number, even though I can not personally witness it

f. I figured that you would be one of the Men Who Never Call, and therefore would never discover it is a fake number (also giving me the advantage of "rejecting" you first)

g All of the above.

Comments:



Thank you for your support.

Boys? Girls? What to do you think? It certainly makes it easier to learn from past mistakes, if you know with great certainty what those mistakes are. And this would certainly be an interesting way to get it. (I know there is a PhD thesis in here somewhere.)
So I haven't heard from the Beast since I posted about him almost two weeks ago. ( I sent out a mass mailing about the blog without realizing there may have been a very valid reason I didn't tell him about it before. Oh a little passive agressive freudian slip of the mouse there.) I also haven't heard from someone new who I have yet to mention here. I was being careful NOT to mention him, since I know he has the address of this blog and hadn't yet addressed with him writing about him on the blog. I thought it would be jarring for him to come here and suddenly see a conversation we had being discussed in detail. Well, so much for sensitivity to another's needs. I've started talking about him now, and so he deserves a eupheism, as do all of the "regulars" here at bunniblog. I shall refer to him by a nickname that he gave himself during one of our IMs, Kabbalah boy or simply Kab. So we shall see if these men resurface or if they have joined the ranks of the mysterious Men Who Never Call. Personally I would like to come up with some sort of little poll, you know whenever a man doesn't call back just send a brief poll (kind of like those little service polls at diners that no one ever fills out).

Thank you for taking the time to fill out our poll. Your responses will help us to improve our service in the future.

I did not call back because:

a. I am already involved with someone although I did not disclose that prior to the date

b. I felt initimidated by my date's intelligence

c. My date seemed to emotionally invested/serious about our "relationship" already

d. I realized that our needs/interests are not compatable as she is a cat person and I am a dog person

e. I am actually an alien doing reconaissance, and my human suit spontaeously melts after 3 days of use

f. I can not date any women who holds belief about Star Trek that conflict with mine

g. all of the above

Comments:




Thank you for your support.

What do ya think? Should I print up like a billion and send them to men all over the country? (I think I need to make this into a little email feature for the blog. Any html hints? Anyone? Anyone?)


Inspirational Quote of the Day:
"They put one of yours in the hospital, you put one of theirs in the morgue...because that's the Chicago way."
Sean Connery-The Untouchables

Ok so the utter lack of Shout Out here is depressing me (as I feared it would)-Please disregard the Buffiness of the speech, it's scary when you notice that you have been watching a show for so long that it is beginning to affect your speech. (And I would, if I had the energy to do so, like to dedicate a whole rant about the difference between AFFECT and EFFECT a subtle difference that totally escapes my students no matter what I do.) In less then two years Buffy has become one of my favorite shows.

It's strange that I would discuss this here today, but here we go. I didn't have a television for seven years. Think about that for a moment. SEVEN YEARS. Most of my students gasp when they hear that, they can not even begin to conceive of life without a tv, but I was happy without one. I didn't feel the pull to see movies and I wasted very little time. I got a huge amount of work done and did more reading than at any time of my life. And then IT happened and I had to buy I tv. I had to buy one because I couldn't read. I was that traumatized, I could not read for three months. Do you have any concept how hard it is to be an English professor when you can't read? Luckily, very few other profs in the department read and they have no excuse. But once I bought the tv I learned that I had to be very careful about the shows that I watched. Many of the shows we had watched together (he had a tv) were off limits: powerpuff girls, pokemonn (shut up!), and South Park (are you noticing a trend?). The more serious limitation was avoiding any show or movie that involved romance or marriage. Also I was unable to watch any show or movie that invovled Las Vegas (this doesn't seem like too seious a problem until a person realizes exactly how many shows and movies, especially recently, are set in Las Vegas including the new show Lucky, the original Austin Powers, the remake of Ocean's Eleven.) What I was left with was pretty much Law and Order and Law and Order: SPU. Later I would realize is that what appealed to me is not only was that there is very little romance, but the main focus of the show is justice. After such trauma the idea of justice is very attractive. Later I added Buffy. I was disturbed by the whole Anya/Xander marriage, but the rest of the show with its tormented romances worked for me. Now I have the ultimate in disturbed relationship shows Six Feet Under. (Claire has finally become me. I need to put up pictures but the character and I even look alike.) Now Buffy will be signing off ( which I think is a good thing) but I will still get to watch re-runs at 7 am. Buffy is an odd 7 am choice (FX), it being a show about creatures of the dark and all, but somehow it makes me feel better before going off to school. Fills me with the kick butt attitude. I will be sad to see Buffy go. And Six Feet Under only has three more episodes of this season (sniff) oh what will I watch and all of this premium viewing is gone. Because god knows I can't watch shiny happy tv, just doesn't work for me. And I would like to make two more requests, first that Nick have a standard showing time of Invader Zim (they keep fooling me by listing it AND NOT SHOWING IT) and for Comedy Central to push up the showing time of Duckman. I am always exhausted on Mondays because I stay up to wtach Duckman (Shame on you USA for cancelling such quality entertainment). I mean does any one actually watch Undergrads? No, so push it up ONE HALF HOUR and make one viewer happy. Join the campaign!

And please, for the love of G-d, and my sanity, please SHOUT OUT. Or I will find you, and I will kill you. And since I have the next six weeks off, I need a hobby, and HUNTING AND KILLING SOUNDS LIKE FUN!!! MWAHHHAHAAHAA! Cough hack splutter.
Inspirational Quote of the Day:
Russel: I meant it when I said I love you.

Claire: And what better way to say I love you than to suck your professor's dick

-Six Feet Under

The Collander/Centrifuge Theory of Dating

So I went to this thing tonight at the 92nd st. Y called date bait. Essentially date bait is the collander theory of dating which is if you put a whole bunch of single idiots in a big room nad make them circulate really fast at least a few of the idiots will be flung together. In this theory instead of the spining action seperating elements they actually combine them-mainly because the elements in this case, people, are really dizzy. Dizziness is a key element in meeting other people, which is why drinking is usually such a large part of the dating process.

This theory is very different from The Investment Theory of Dating. The investment theory comes much later in the relationship. Generally the way the investment theory goes, and we all know someone who has done this (probably ourselves truth be told) where after a long period of dating and effort and so forth you realize that this other person just isn't going to work out. But you have put so much time and effort into him (her) that you are just not willing to let go. Now any financial adviser will tell you that this isn't sound behavior, that because you've sunk so much money into a losing stock that you should continue to lose money instead of selling your stock and investing what's left in some other company that hopefully has a future. Or maybe just holding onto your savings for a while into a good deal comes along. But no there you are reading the Wall Street Journal every day hoping against hope that your little crappy stock that has been losing money since the day you invested will suddenly shoot off the charts and you will end up on the cover of bride magazine. ( Is there a groom magazine?) But eventually the stock crashes and you limp off to your next investment.

So back to the collander theory. So date bait is the epitome of the collander idea. You put singles in a small area and force them to move around (like electrons, kind of) and eventually they will collide and hopefully form new chemical compounds. (Perhaps this should be renamed the elemental fusion theory of dating-unfortunately I know absolutely nothing about science so anyone have input about that feel free to shout out at the bottom of the entry.)

So here is the slow and excruciating account of my first date bait experience. You walk into this room-this bland big room and you get a number (ie Liz 008 or Gary 047) and put on a tag with your first name and number on it. (I guess the name is there to make you feel less like a prisoner? or perhaps a diary cow?) So everyone stands up and talks about themselves for a minute. Now this is very much like AA, not just the whole get up and talk about yourself, but the whole energy of the place...no alcohol just bottomless cups of coffee, the nervousness, the desperation, the desire to find someone you can identify with. I have never actually been to an AA meeting or any kind of support group, I'm just sayin' that from what I have seen from Fight Club and other films that feature support groups, an AA member probably would feel pretty comfortable.

Now the talk about yourself for one minute is deceptively simple. Most people say you ask a person to talk about themselves and they will not shut up. This is true, but in this kind of forced setting with the tension so high it is really hard. I wasn't so bad but i was clearly nervous. And like some of the other people who went after me commented on (including the guy I matched with) I was really nervous to talk in front of people even though I shouldn't be. (Ok wait they commented they were nervous not that I was nervous-get it?) But the first timers are clearly identifiable from "the pros." The first timers are like "Hi um, Carol 025, I was raised in New York. I just came here tonight cause it seems like it would be fun. Um, I speak Spanish. I like to hang in the park. And, uh I have two cats.I uh just like meeting new people?" The pros were like some old drag queen doing Barbara Streisand at a piano bar (all of this with LI or Brooklen accent) "Jen 031 So I can't hang with a guy who doesn't like sports. If you don't like sports, don't even bother to talk to me when we mingle. I have two dogs, they are my babies. I love these dogs like my own children. If I had children that is, which I don't, but I love children. I love my dogs more, but if I had children I would love them more than the dogs. I mean I'm into everything here that everyone else is into, hanging out, going to movies, drinking beer, sunning in the park. If you're a smoker, don't even bother."

So then is the mingling, which made me YEARN for liquor. Let me tell you there is a very good reason for meeting people at bars. Bright lights and coffee are NOT conducive to helping people meet. Because you are HYPER AWARE of yourself and so is every one else. You already in this very uncomfortable situation. (I'm sorry but sitting in a room full of single people talking into a microphone about yourself for a minute is not pleasant. It ranks right up there with wisdom tooth removal and visiting the gynecologist.) So then I am mixing and not all that many people are coming up to me. I talked to all of four people. Yes FOUR. But the first guy walked up to me and started talking. I am not going to say that much about him because I don't want to get too invested since we haven't gone on a date, but he put me down as a match.

Then there was Rob. What to say about Rob. Rob was a 24 year old former actuary who is currently unemployed and lives in LI. He is also extremely nervous and has almost no social graces, which would account for presence at date bait. Rob had a kind of a Bill Gates energy, one of those ultra cocky geeky guys that make me nervous because I still believe they are the type to blow up the world just because they didnt get a date in high school. (Very Dr. Strangelove of him) He told me immediately that most of the people there were not in his age range, he is 24. So I told him mine and he graciously admitted that was OK. (I was secretly hoping it wasn't.) So finally I manage to extricate myself from Rob and who is there but this guy Paul, the mad robe flasher (see archives). Paul is another socially clueless individual. After failing to call him back or email him for a week, he basically sent me an email demanding that I make my rejection of him overt, which I did. Does this stop Paul from trying to hook up with me at date bait? Not in the least. So two out of my four encounters (actually five now that I think of it) were scratches. But I got one match (better than none!) And so we have exchanged numbers and we shall see how centrifugal force works in the dating world. I actually have a good idea for a first date with. I think I shall take him to the next Moth slam. If I go, I shall be sure to report it here.

In other news I was sick, which accounts for the total lack of entry for yesterday. As a result I missed the much dreaded department retreat. It is one of the rare occassions on which I am glad that I am prone to illness. GO ILLNESS. There are many other things to report but I must finish grading student papers ( for which I am sure there will be an extra surly entry tomorrow).

And for those of you who made it all the way through this entry, here is a little line to make you smile:

"I think people who talk in metaphors should shampoo my crotch." Jack Nicholson As Good As It Gets