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Yup, absolutely, positively 100% gluten. For the first time in over three months, I have no gall bladder type symptoms. None. Zero. And in the last two days I've had avocado sushi, a tuna steak, and some gluten-free cookies that didn't suck. And pop corn. Now I just have to not jump off the deep end immediately (because I want a fajita burito bowl at Chipotle!). My skin also looks better than it has at any point since I hit puberty and the mysterious scratchy pathes on my elbows have gone. My hair, alas, is furious, and I'm going to have to get over my shit, and just go by the first wheat-free industrial strength condition I can find, damn what it smells like, and sort out the pretentsion later.
All of this means I can get serious about auditioning and working again, because the truth is, I've been trying, but I've not really been able to. My physicality and my voice and my focus have all suffered severely in this, and I just couldn't do anything I've needed to do acting-wise with the agression necessary to get what I want or derive pleasure from the effort. That's been my dirty, open secret. And you all have been terribly gracious about not being up my ass about it.
The understatement of the year and more fronts than nearly any of you know: Discipline and I have a very odd relationship. From music to food, sex and work. I don't know why I keep thinking about, in a way I can taste, the weird and not very good buttery pasta from meals at Guitar Craft, but that's been in my mind since I woke up (actually it probably makes sense in a things I long for way -- I'd like some fucking pasta, one of those classes was in Seattle where the lovely lady is currently seeing her man, and gee, surly British men with peculiar senses of humour and really scary definitions of rigor (i.e., pitching oranges at people while they try to fucking play!)? Sure, GC is probably the best shorthand for way too much of my head right now. Ah the lot of you Crafties, I'm sorry!). Regardless, I surprise myself, and I suppose I have to.
I've also noticed that work and me get along better when it's concrete. When I'm selling a product. Whether that's "a day of work on this set nets you this much money" or Judy's Book or Associated Content. So that's interesting. Means I have to write more, but I've been tired the last few days as my body readjusts.
Question of the Day, since GC, being perhaps the first of mine of any scale, puts me in mind of it. Tell me about your pilgrimages. I used to have to say so much to explain, but now it's just, "I went to the other side of the world" which is a lot more dramatic without effort than a long story about New Standard Tuning and a field behind a mansion in Virginia.
I used to know this fabulous, tall, super curvy dominatrix that insisted her clients call her "sir" because she found the word "mistress" an irritant. I'm not sure why it never registered to me at the time as much more than amusing, because it's the answer to so many things and not just the messy fluctuations of gender / identity. I am what I say I am. The contortions are on this end, all you have to do is follow along and keep up. Why the hell have I ever thought that was too much to ask of anyone?
All of this means I can get serious about auditioning and working again, because the truth is, I've been trying, but I've not really been able to. My physicality and my voice and my focus have all suffered severely in this, and I just couldn't do anything I've needed to do acting-wise with the agression necessary to get what I want or derive pleasure from the effort. That's been my dirty, open secret. And you all have been terribly gracious about not being up my ass about it.
The understatement of the year and more fronts than nearly any of you know: Discipline and I have a very odd relationship. From music to food, sex and work. I don't know why I keep thinking about, in a way I can taste, the weird and not very good buttery pasta from meals at Guitar Craft, but that's been in my mind since I woke up (actually it probably makes sense in a things I long for way -- I'd like some fucking pasta, one of those classes was in Seattle where the lovely lady is currently seeing her man, and gee, surly British men with peculiar senses of humour and really scary definitions of rigor (i.e., pitching oranges at people while they try to fucking play!)? Sure, GC is probably the best shorthand for way too much of my head right now. Ah the lot of you Crafties, I'm sorry!). Regardless, I surprise myself, and I suppose I have to.
I've also noticed that work and me get along better when it's concrete. When I'm selling a product. Whether that's "a day of work on this set nets you this much money" or Judy's Book or Associated Content. So that's interesting. Means I have to write more, but I've been tired the last few days as my body readjusts.
Question of the Day, since GC, being perhaps the first of mine of any scale, puts me in mind of it. Tell me about your pilgrimages. I used to have to say so much to explain, but now it's just, "I went to the other side of the world" which is a lot more dramatic without effort than a long story about New Standard Tuning and a field behind a mansion in Virginia.
I used to know this fabulous, tall, super curvy dominatrix that insisted her clients call her "sir" because she found the word "mistress" an irritant. I'm not sure why it never registered to me at the time as much more than amusing, because it's the answer to so many things and not just the messy fluctuations of gender / identity. I am what I say I am. The contortions are on this end, all you have to do is follow along and keep up. Why the hell have I ever thought that was too much to ask of anyone?
