A Little BOUNCE … well, not so little …


Some of my very best friends have been in a room with Wesley Taylor. I hate them. However, one of them needs a bit of cheering up. So, for her, despite the fact she got to be in a room – albeit with more than a hundred other people and she had to buy a ticket – with Wesley Taylor, I offer this: The Skivvies and Wesley Taylor. WesTayTay [That’s his Twitter-handle – follow him HERE] in his underwear should put a little bounce in anyone’s day – well, actually, the bounce is not so little.

(P.S. If you have NOT watched Mr. Taylor’s webseries, It Could Be Worse, click anywhere in this note to go there. REALLY – STOP READING – JUST GO THERE.)

Now, I’ve been bouncey (though I’m no match for WTT) and so I can return to curmudgeon land. (And I have tagged this post with multiple variations on the theme: WESLEY TAYLOR NAKED BIG PENIS – and so, I should get hits in the MILLIONS today.)

Oscar Wilde said, “I find it harder and harder to live up to my blue china.”

That’s my problem. Well, not the china. I don’t have any china. It is one of many accumulations I left behind. Or, should I say, Let Go? Or, maybe, Surrendered? Matters not, it is what it is, or, rather, what it was. Except that of late I find myself suffering regret for not having packed and taken the Wedgwood service for eight I’d found priced so ridiculously low that it must surely have been the result of either someone’s mistake or ignorance about which I ever after – until recently – suffered guilt for not having said, “Shouldn’t this be more?”

That’s the kind of person I was. Now, however, I’d probably point out the character giving chinks and fissures in a few pieces that made me first fall so in love with the set and ask for a discount because of them. I’m not sure when I changed, but the process began after having taken my leave and very little else in the quiet way and on the timeline requested and still, somehow, became a character in a narrative that – when I was interrogated about it – bore no resemblance to my memory of who I was or what had occurred.

But, I let that story stand. And spent the years since wondering about stories, identity, reputation, truth. Conclusion? Everyone really does have their own reality. We all manipulate and remember it in ways that serve our narrative thread. Some of us see ourselves as heroes; some as victims; some as martyrs; some as … well, you get the drift. Thing is, way more often than I knew for the first decades of my life, no one else in your “reality” even BEGINS to consider that the voice telling the story in other people’s heads might not agree with the version in their own.

We are, in fact, all alone in our stories. And, having discovered this, I am exhausted by trying to maintain the “Charlie” of my own narrative and the narratives of so many others. Listen, I left my china behind, so, leave me alone. Let me get to the ending in peace.

Truman Capote said, “Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.”

Exactly. Although, third acts no longer exist. People can barely make it through two acts. Were it not for the need for the income from the bar and justifying the outrageous amounts now charged for theatre tickets, I’m sure shows would eschew intermissions and second acts entirely, every theatricale being about forty-five minutes long, the average extended-attention span of people nowadays.

I mean, shit, most of you won’t even read past the first paragraph of a post, let alone beyond 300 words, which was the length it was suggested I make my blog-entries. Honey, I can’t even write a grocery list in less than a thousand words.

Where was I? Right. Write. Third acts. Yeah. That. I used to write shows – a lot of shows – five or six shows a year, tailored to the students/actors I had and their strengths and needs. Now, granted,  these were often derivative and slap-dash, even more often emotionally-overwrought and cheaply sentimental, but, every so often, one had some heft. What one NEVER had – not really – was a really good second act. Impossible. For me, anyway. I had trouble with endings. Especially happy ones. I tended toward gunshots or leave taking or it was all a dream or – you get the picture – and when I went perky, it was ridiculously fast brought about by some unfathomable deus ex machina device.

I could use a deus ex machina myself right now. Or, a gunshot.

And Tennessee Williams said, “There is a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.”

In fact, I have a certain place to go: the gym. The elliptical and the stationary bike are calling me, reminding me that my 150 mile ride is only two weeks away.

See, here I am again … lousy ending. Well, when all else fails, Wesley Taylor big penis naked.

Wesley Taylor© Monica SimoesTaylor, Wesley Aug 2014Taylor, Wesley Aug 2014 2

Later friends.


… sunday … love and labor …

I just spent a few hours sealing the driveway. Yes. I did. I’m going to forego the gym today. I feel like the driveway thing did it and I’ll do crunches and free weights here.

charlie seal 1 charlie seal 2 charlie seal 3

And in the “so much to talk about but not going to” category, I have done it again. And that’s all I can say, really. But here, I have fallen in love again. Look:

Beautiful, right? It’s Matt Doyle. He co-wrote it with Will Van Dyke. Follow him.  Them. God I wish I lived in New York and had money to hang at 54Below. But, okay, I don’t and look – we can see these things on line, so, blessing counted.  Thank you, by the way, Wes Taylor ((follow WesTayTay here on TWITTER – really – and help kickstart season two of “IT COULD BE WORSE” – best webseries EVER – you haven’t watched? Watch HERE! REALLY! CLICK!!))

Okay … here I am … going to wash the tar off of me and visit Bosie Merlo …

Friday Rants … Positivity a sham (told you so); STEREK is losing! VOTE!; Ebersole to be on COVEN!; PROJECT RUNWAY! rules; and…

Well, well, well … it took eight years for a graduate student to recognize the bogus math in a study on “positivity”. Barbara Fredrickson’s work has been cited THOUSANDS of times as evidence in support of one or another of those new-agey-social-psychology-pop-self-help-medically-tinged-load bullshit theories about the power of happiness and good-attitude with which we are CONSTANTLY bombarded, and which, if one is LESS than sunny all the time, serve to make one feel not only LESS THAN but, too, GUILTY and LAZY for being less than POLLYANNA SUNNY 24/7.

HA! I say, HA! Read it here in The Daily Beast.  And while you are at it, read this related article about THE BULLSHIT POLICE.

Sterek 2And while you’re clicking around, do me a favor: CLICK HERE and go to THE BACKLOT, and vote for Sterek in the SLASHMADNESS event. I am on a life-quest to get MTV’s TEEN WOLF to ship Stiles and Derek. Some people call me crazy – but I am FILLED with POSITIVITY that I can make the impossible happen. I mean, some people believe in some sort of – you know – god – that is in charge of everything; why can’t I believe Derek and Stiles can become a couple? IT’S A FREAKING T.V. SHOW ALMOST ENTIRELY BASED ON HOMOEROTIC SYMBOLISM – LET THEM FUCK!

And while I’m on television; yesterday my idol – Ryan Murphy – announced in an interview with DEADLINE (click here) that CHRISTINE EBERSOLE is joining this season’s AMERICAN HORROR STORY: COVEN. WHAT THE FUCK? As Wesley Taylor said on TWITTER: “MERRY CHRISTMAS GAYS!”  (P.S. If you haven’t watched WesTayTay’s webseries: IT COULD BE WORSE, you really REALLY should. CLICK HERE! He is one of my current pretend boyfriends. HE WAS ON SMASH TOO!) Just take a look at these AHS teasers!

I have LONG worshipped Christine Ebersole (which is DIFFERENT than SHIPPING Derek and Stiles) – I first saw here DECADES ago on the late, lamented soap opera, Ryan’s Hope; and then, too, as Guinevere in a tour of Camelot when I was living in California, and then, well, the day she became a goddess: in the musical GREY GARDENS, which I saw SIX times.  Her delivery of “Another Winter in a Summer Town” – well – JUST WATCH IT (a million times).

Yes. I saw the show Six TIMES. And I am not ashamed. Including the FINAL Broadway performance (a Sunday matinee) which ALSO happened to be the same day that Patti LuPone gave her final performance of the “concert” version of Gypsy at City Center – before the full revival – and I was also THERE for THAT. Yes, that was a BIG GAY DAY – I’m surprised my heart held out.

In any event – and speaking of my BIG GAY HEART – last night was Project Runway night. I am unabashedly, unashamedly, unrepentantly, IN LOVE with this season. Last night was a crazy explosion of bickering and bitchiness and I would have LOVED to have seen that nasty piece of work, Ken, get his ridiculously self-aggrandizing ass kicked off – but alas – crazy, new-agey, gorgeous Sue was lost to us. I think if only she had had the prescience to repeat to Heidi the line Ken spouted about “I don’t design for 40 year olds” – as if 40 year olds belonged in Madame Tussaud’s or something – SON OF A BASTARD! And, P.S. Ken, the use of the word “highly” in every other fucking sentence as adjective and adverb reveals you to be just the sort of under-educated poseur idiot you ARE. GO HOME!

Speaking of GOING HOME – yesterday I was interviewed by an arts project consultant (or something like that-and he’s from New York City and has his offices in THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING – of course I hated him – while I loved him) about what I think are the needs for the arts in Frederick – and in particular, what I think ought to happen with the McCrory’s Building, the old Cultural Arts Center. I did NOT hold back. I’m not going to go on about it here, but I think it is a RIDICULOUS shame that a town this size is suffering the dearth of decent theatre and training that it now is when once upon a time it was a very active incubator for companies and talent – coming and going and growing – and now is reduced to so few companies and venues, and, really, only one of those companies has any vision at all. There are so few directors (let alone producers) in this town with ANY courage or ORIGINALITY – it makes me sick –

OH WAIT – I said I wouldn’t go on. So, I won’t. But – I am planning now on winning the MegaMillions (or the miracle of getting one of my “bankable” projects Coke Buildingpublished and selling the film rights – see “POSITIVITY” section above) and buying the old CocaCola building on North Market Street and turning it into a theatre/ theatre & music school/ literary-poetry slam salon/ bookstore/ NY type-Algonquin-lobby-esque cabaret/cafe-hangout – so watch out, bitches – this bitch is coming back.

And I’m going to open with GREY GARDENS. And I JUST MIGHT play Little Edie MY OWN DAMN SELF. I would ROCK this number.



Thanks to the fact that I stalk authors on Facebook who I think are geniuses, I saw a link today on Armistead Maupin‘s page (YES – that Armistead Maupin, writer of “Tales of the City” and “The Night Listener” – go ahead, be jealous) to this Vimeo Webseries called “IT COULD BE WORSE” starring Wesley Taylor, who plays (or, I fear, played, past tense) Bobby on “SMASH.” He has become my new obsession.

The Skivvies, Wes Taylor© Monica Simoes Wesley Taylor© Monica Simoestaylor, wesley headshot

It is completely riveting – especially if you have ever been anywhere near theatre. WATCH IT! My new obsession (along with genius authors.)