My massage person yesterday was the much-dreaded Talker. She asked if I was comfortable (lying face down with the warmer on, I said yes), if I had big weekend plans (oh god, I thought, hesitating--do I say don't talk to me, please don't talk to me--and finally said, mmhmm) and then she said boy, I hope the weekend will be nice. I elected not to answer. The silence felt awkward at first, then less so, and then I slipped into a sort of meditative peace. At the end, I tipped generously and moved back into the world with a deliciously-relaxed ease.
I felt similarly at peace on Thursday night. A friend and I volunteered as ushers with Homo for the Holidays' opening night. We helped set up chairs, direct people to will call and the bathroom, checked hand stamped, and pick up empty glasses. In between we sat in the back and enjoyed the two-hour show, a heady mix of burlesque, comedy, parody, and sheer talent. It was my first time seeing Cherdonna (!!). Not to mention, a sexy Santa striptease, delicious temptations Candy and Cookie, and the selfie-obsessed pronouncements of Waxie Moon as the Sugarplum Fairy. The "Uptown Funk" rip-off was amazingly en pointe. It felt so good to laugh and cackle and get a little scared of the Grim Reaper and admire the jaw dropping physiques. I walked down from the Hill feeling happy and comforted. Not all is lost in the 206.
Yesterday I watched "Tangerine," and fell in love. What story-telling! All in dialogue and raw acting.
And today this yoga video, somewhere between vinyasa and yin yoga.