...i performed a one-woman thing that was running feb 13 and 14 at star cleaners in san francisco. it's called "why maybe is the saddest word i know." The show features four different characters (stella, violet, jolene, and rachel) living in san francisco who all run into a guy (and by guy, i mean...fella'...not neccessarily a man) named jack. they tell their poinant and often funny stories about the notions of the uncertain, regret, and consequence. they're real nice girls. stella is a lapsed artist and current cocktail waitress plagued by the one moment that got away from her. violet is a bawdy dishwasher and stoner who never quite fits...just keeps looking. jolene is a nurse that makes the decision to go ahead a love a guy who can never love her back, and tries to find the strength to take the gifts from that, along with the heartbreak. and rachel is a patient in a psych ward who just wants a friend to listen.

sweet emotion
aerosmith gets me a little hot.

makes me wish i was a bad girl in high school, hammered on can after can of
pabst & smoking stolen marlboros in the huge cracked leather back seat of
brian signorelli or kenny ryan or whoever. anyone sort of seedy with a muscle
car would have done. we'da been drunk & fumbled our tongues across each
other's teeth and gums, cut hard on necks, bit veins to the surface. confusion
setting in anywhere south, though. i woulda been wearing wedgie high-heeled
candies or those whorey zodiac boots with thick wood heels , my feathered hair
tumbling like pickup sticks out onto the upholstery with those shoes wrapped
around the waist of whichever boy drove me drunk to the quarry at midnight,
speakers blaring & his hips never quite at the right beat. cameros, canary
yellow with fat black stripes down the body, tricked out old mustangs, or in
the back of a shiny el camino, pimpy with chrome.

aerosmith does that to me.
...hey, close this window and get back to the ladies!!...