Beyonce performing as part of her Formation Tour in 2016.

Flawless and Womanist

My plans for today were relatively unambitious.

  • Follow through on my intention to dump out and purge another dresser drawer while the dog was at daycare (check).
  • Get a very small, chipping-away-at-it, start on cleaning up the clutter room in the basement (check check).
  • Finally finish the tome I’ve been working on since late March (record scratch).

Two out of three ain’t bad. You see, what I didn’t plan on today was watching Beyonce’s Homecoming.

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Sacred Song

On today’s commute, my “Alphabet Stew” playlist served up some Michael Bublé(1), including the It’s Time album, which was what first brought him onto my radar.

As the tracks spooled out, one song played that I had simultaneously completely forgotten about while also having it indelibly etched in my memory.

How are both of those things possible? Come : join me below the jump and let me explain.

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Rocked Back On My Heels

One of the lucky “extra credit” details of my NYC trip was that I finally had the opportunity to see Kinky Boots on Broadway. This was extra lucky because the Broadway run closed on Sunday, just 3 days after my opportunity to see and enjoy the show.

SIDEBAR: I talked to one of the ushers before the show to find out what show was next coming into this particular theater. Turns out it’s the new Moulin Rouge musical, which I was lucky enough to see during last summer’s Boston try-out. I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to see the final version of that show, but I’m definitely intrigued to have the chance—someday—to compare the Broadway and Boston versions. /SIDEBAR.(1)

But, back to Kinky Boots.

I have all kinds of contradictory feelings about the show.

Strike that: I have a series of contradictory feelings that were prompted by me watching the show. So tonight’s post will basically be focused on the show itself, and I will hope to organize and express my internal conflicts in a different writing exercise on some future date.

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On and On and On

Random point the first: I really think I’ve used this post title before, but I don’t have enough gas in the tank to go back and confirm. So apologies if this repetition causes any confusion down the line.

Random point the second: The course was challenging and rewarding in all the best ways, but I need more processing time before knowing what insights I want to share here.

So I’m onto a much lighter topic tonight: the most recent film I watched, on the train ride down to NYC from Boston.

And that exceptionally high brow piece of cinema? Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again.

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‘Tis a Puzzlement

Today is the first Tuesday night since my yoga experiment started that I wasn’t at my “regularTuesday night beginner class.

I’m good with that. Today marked the final work deadline in a series of 6 such deadlines scattered across 10 days—and 4 of those six in the last 48 hours. Me’s tired, and all I wanted to do tonight was have a single cocktail(1), start packing my suitcase, and get all-the-way caught up on Game of Thrones in advance of the upcoming Season 8 premiere.

It’s a plan I stand behind.

Now, I’ll talk about my suitcase tomorrow(2). Tonight, a few frivolous thoughts now that I’ve watched all the way through to the end of Season 7.

(Spoilers ahead!)

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The Shirt Off My Back

QUICK HIT: Still deep in deadline-land.

I’ve posted now and again about the general clutteredness of my life: too many interests, too much indulging of those diverse interests with too much shopping.(1) Mix in some mild hoarding tendencies with not nearly enough free time to dig in for a full “Kondo-ing,” and you can probably get the picture from there.

Obviously, I ain’t been doing any decluttering whilst traversing deadline-land. In all honesty, it’s gonna be a mother-forking miracle if I get laundry done and my suitcase packed before I leave town next week.

But I have been getting an inordinate(2) amount of pleasure from one small victory in this area.

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All the World’s a Stage

I’ve been seeing lots of friends posting about World Theatre Day today, which makes it a little extra fitting that I “played hooky” from work stuff this evening to watch some friends perform in Mamma Mia.(1) It’s a show I was almost in—-for one hot second—-so I very much wanted to make sure I came out to support everybody.

I’ll admit I was a little worried that I’d have some wistful sad feelings about it all. Sorry for what I’d missed out on, desiring to be up on stage again. After the bows and the drive home, I’m glad to say that wasn’t an issue for me.

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