Fool's Gold Coast

Supplementary

I mentioned in the previous post that the 30-day raw vegan detox I'm currently undertaking requires me to supplement my diet of uncooked rabbit food with a variety of pills and potions. Here is the current regimen:

In the morning, I drink a smoothie composed of bananas, apple juice, lecithin granules, flax seed oil, and powdered green meal, followed by a glass of rejuvelac, a truly gag-worthy fermented beverage made of wheat berries and God knows what all. I also swallow two fenugreek capsules and begin sipping a concoction of kamut dissolved in 32 ounces of water. Before any meals, I take an enzyme capsule. At the end of the day, I swallow two more fenugreek capsules and chug one more barfy beverage, a psyllium-bentonite cocktail.

As far as I can tell, the purpose of each of these products is to aid digestion--i.e., induce pooping. In other words, I have become a reverse bulimic.

Next week the enemas start.

ELSEWHERE:
My short review of Corn Productions' Jesus Camp--The Musical is in this week's Chicago Reader.

Let's Eat Fried Chicken

Kito, the BFF, and I have embarked on a monthlong raw vegan detox. This means that for four weeks we're supposed to consume only uncooked, all-natural, animal-product-free cuisine as well as various unappetizing potions made with invariably green powdered nutritional supplements. We're following the program set out by raw food guru Karyn Calabrese, whose chief qualification seems to be the fact that she has remained hot into her 60s. Karyn leads detox classes from her market/restaurant/wellness center in Lincoln Park, but they're expensive so the three of us are following along on the (rather poor quality) DVDs of the course, which the BFF borrowed from a friend.

The program is supposed to cleanse your body of toxins, mostly through pooping, with which Karyn is obsessed. In fact, for Karyn, pooping, in conjunction with raw vegan eating, constitutes a kind of grand unified theory of everything. She considers her program the answer to every conceivable health-related concern, from psoriasis to AIDS and, presumably, Dutch elm disease. She concedes that she hasn't a scrap of scientific evidence to prove it, but, on the other hand, she's hot despite being old. She's also fond of New Age mumbo jumbo and defaming Starbucks.

In spite of my reservations, I have resolved to stick with the detox because 1.) I like a challenge, 2.) I'm sure the ol' colon could use a flushing, and 3.) I feel remorseful about my half-assed detoxing attempt three years ago. So I will try my best to hold out the full 30 days (though I'll probably drop the raw part on Pride Day and while I'm at Disney World) and take what I can from Karyn's self-aggrandizing sermons while merely rolling my eyes at the rest. It'll be sort of like church.

Twenty-four days to go.

ELSEWHERE:
My review of Lookingglass Theatre Company's The Last Act of Lilka Kadison is in this week's Time Out Chicago.

All That Glitters 127

A look at how I've been diverting myself lately.

Books
READ: Lyrical Ballads by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge [the problem with Wordsworth is that he's always trying to make a point about how much he loves nature and I'm always like, "Do you actually love nature or are you just trying to convince yourself?"].

Movies
SAW: Bridesmaids, Beginners.
LAST WEEK'S MOVIE NIGHT PICKS:
THEME: Arnold Schwarzenegger.
KITO'S PICK: Twins (dir. Reitman, 1988).
MINE: The Terminator (Cameron, 1984) [looked cheap].

Current Interests
Books, female pop stars, my dad, my mom, cubicle culture, feminism, the Spider-Man musical, the gays, TV, food, movies, the BFF.

Fool's Four
FOUR PEOPLE WHO HAVE GREAT MOUTHS:
1. Jonathan Rhys Meyers.
2. Scarlett Johansson.
3. The blond kid on Glee.
4. This one guy I went to college with.

Foolish Flashbacks
FOUR YEARS AGO: "'I felt she was performing only for me,' my friend said afterwards, her eyes aglow."
FIVE YEARS AGO: "So this, at last, is what became of the glorious hedonistic Seventies: old guys furtively blowing each other in dark, haunted rooms."
&
"I am big. It's the pictures that got small."

Glitter
And now, the creepiest thing I've seen in ages.

The Gold Mine 128: June 19, 1993

Stuff I've dug up.

Here are passages from two diary entries I wrote on today's date 18 years ago. I was 13.

June 19, 1993
Day 2--Mobile
Okay, so here I am, sitting in the car, trying to write. I'm in Mobile, Alabama, today and after a few more hours of driving, we'll be in Destin. Yippee-ki-ay-oh-ay, yippee-ki-oh!
I asked my fellow vacationers how they felt now that Destin is only a few hours away. Here's what they said:
Dad - I feel relieved.
Kelsey - I feel great!
Mom - Grateful.
Eden - I feel great.
Nicole - Excited.
Eric - Great.

Day 2--The Arrival
Well, after 14 hours, 750 miles, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, a tired Thompson clan finally reached Edgewater Beach Condominiums at about 1:00 p.m. On first observation, I would say the condo is fairly nice. The view is, well, of the pool. Upon arrival, Nicole said - I don't want to say anything.

A First Time for Everything

Speaking of kisses, I can't for the life of me remember my first same-sex one. I can recall the first same-sex blow job I received as if it were yesterday, of course, but first kiss? I haven't the foggiest.

ELSEWHERE:
My review of Steppenwolf Theatre Company's Next Up repertory is in this week's Chicago Reader.

Let's Just Hold Hands

Earlier this week, I was asked to recount the circumstances surrounding my first kiss. Well, if you must know, it was with a girl and didn't happen until high school. I guess I didn't think I would ever get to kiss boys and if you can't kiss boys, what's the rush?

Boy-girl lip-locking did eventually happen for me, though, with the poor soul who holds the dubious honor of having been my one and only girlfriend. We were seated on my blue and green comforter in my bedroom in Rogers, Arkansas, and we were watching an episode of Homicide: Life on the Street.

The stuff of romance.

Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?

Yesterday Kito and I attended a performance of Venus, Suzan-Lori Parks's 1996 play about the so-called Hottentot Venus. At intermission, Kito said that if he ever becomes a drag queen, he's going to call himself "The Hottentwat Venus."

Works for me. It also dovetails nicely with my own career plans to become an overweight drag queen named "Heavy Flo." We could perform together, you see.

All That Glitters 126

A look at how I've been diverting myself lately.

Books
READ: The Iliad by Homer, trans. by Robert Fitzgerald [that war would have been a lot shorter if the gods had stopped jerking everybody around all the time].
COMING UP: Coleridge, Camus, Wharton [together at last!].

Movies
SAW: Cave of Forgotten Dreams.
THIS WEEK'S MOVIE NIGHT PICKS:
MINE: Rabbit Hole [so frigging depressing, y'all].
KITO'S: The Tourist.
NEXT WEEK'S THEME: Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Art
SAW: "Nulla Dies Sine Linea" @ Instituto Cervantes [a survey of drawings by contemporary Spanish artists].

Current Interests
Kito; my day job; movies; my mother; lesbians; feminism; the BFF; Chicago theater; Upstairs, Downstairs; food; poetry; my sisters; my childhood; my appearance.

Fool's Four
THE NEXT FOUR INTERNATIONAL TRIPS KITO AND I PLAN TO TAKE:
1. Eastern Canada.
2. The Middle East.
3. Central Europe.
4. Argentina [at last].

Flashbacks
ONE YEAR AGO: "Back when I was in college, Caribou Coffee on Broadway and Aldine was perpetually packed and cruisier than a Carnival Fun Ship."
FOUR YEARS AGO: "Sometimes I think I should spend more time with white people."
FIVE YEARS AGO: "To which should I yield: my lifelong grade-grubbing or the inevitable post-bar-crawl hangover?"

Glitter
Granted, there's not a lot of competition nowadays, but here's the best theme song on TV.

ELSEWHERE:
My short reviews of The Annoyance's Waiting for Drew Peterson and Raven Theatre Company's The Cherry Orchard are in this week's Chicago Reader.

The Gold Mine 127: June 8, 1995

Stuff I've dug up.

Here's a passage from a diary entry I wrote on today's date 16 years ago. I was 15.

June 8, 1995
Well, tomorrow my family once again sets off for our annual trek to the beach in Destin, Florida. I'll tell you, I'm sick to wretched death of Florida. I just wish we could go one year without that trip.
I'm starving; I think I'll try to scrounge something up.

I am not a beach person.

ELSEWHERE:
My review of Mortar Theatre Company's Mother Bear is in this week's Time Out Chicago.

Charity

Yesterday a particularly insistent panhandler persuaded Kito to buy her a Blue Raspberry Coolatta at Dunkin' Donuts. He declared it his good deed for the day, but I'm not so sure. Is supplying the unfortunate with sugary beverages the path to sainthood nowadays? Because as I see it, all he did was contribute to hobo diabetes.