radiopeter

Ever since I returned home the other day with a three pound block of imported feta I’ve been cooking. I made Revani, Pastitsio, Moussaka, and a vat of Tzatziki yesterday. Today I have to assemble Souvlakia, Soutzoukakia, make a feta dip, and a few other things which I can’t remember because they’re on a list stuck to my ‘fridge.

I work better with lists.

So just popped onto my blog to chime in and remind all the gay folks celebrating Pride month that it isn’t about the thongs or the parades or the sun kissed men and women of the world. It’s about remembering who you are, who WE are, and where we come from.

Do some internets research today about Queer history. That’s what Pride is for. To remember.

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

It’s time to try
Defying gravity

I don’t know when it happened. Maybe last week, maybe the week before. I’m not really sure. I was outside and I looked up to the sky. And all of the sudden, I wanted to be up there.

Literally.

I’ve read a lot of pilots blogs recently. They say they’d always dreamed of flying. Ever since they were a child… When they were growing up… Collecting airplanes… You name it, I’ve read it. But I don’t know how it started for me. Something just snapped. The above lyrics from Wicked are eerily apropos.

I want to be a pilot.

The moment I began to think about it I began to realize that I really can do it. There is nothing physically holding me back from taking flying lessons. So why not learn how to soar through the sky?

I just set up http://flying.radiopeter.com. I don’t think I’ll begin until August, but this is the time for research.

Irving Berlin, be a dear and help me out…

Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see

Sunday night I had a slightly earth-shattering evening. I hung out with a guy I’d met before but hadn’t spent much time with. We come from similar backgrounds, and maybe that was the key, but there was a natural ease between us. The evening was wonderful, and if I could call it a date (I’m not sure I can) it would have been the best one I’ve had in quite a while.

And today he’s still on my mind. In a big way.

The other thing on my mind is our opening of L’imitation of Life tonight. I’m freaking out about our lack of rehearsal time in the space, but it is a stage reading, and flawlessness is not required. My intention is to keep myself as organized as possible and set my awareness dial to hypersensitive.

Last night as I lay in bed rolling tonight’s performance over and over in my mind, all I had to do was think of him and I fell asleep.

I think I even woke up with a smile.

Twisted Americana.

That has, for a while now, been the perfect description of most everything mounted by the Steppenwolf Theatre Company. They are, in my mind, a creative nexus beyond compare. I’d be doing a disservice by describing them further than twisted Americana, which I use in the most positive sense.

Even when it comes to a story about a donut shop in Uptown.

Tracy Letts, author of the Tony Award Winning (yay Chicago!) August: Osage County, has penned another magnificent glimpse into the lives of a handful of characters that live in my very own hometown.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I absolutely adore anything Chicago flavored. I’ve lived here all my life and take great pride in my city. I gravitate to books, plays, movies, documentaries, and just about anything else with Chicago as the main subject. I’ve called myself a Chicagoholic before, so my bias in loving Superior Donuts may have something to do with that. END FULL DISCLOSURE

***SPOILER ALERT*** ***YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED***
(more…)

You could arguably say that ever since mankind looked up to the heavens, they must have wondered who else was out there. All those dots in the sky signified more than constellations, more than gods, more than just snow against a blanket of black.

When I was younger I remember standing outside and gazing at the full moon somewhere in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The sky was alive with points of light drenching nearly every inch of what I thought was inky blackness. My childhood in Chicago was full of good things, but looking up in the night sky, the haze of city lights obscured most of the stars.

No so in the Black Hills.

There were so many dots of light. My young mind was just beginning to understand that each point meant there was a star somewhere out there that could be another rock. And if there was lots of other rocks out there, why couldn’t there be other kids on them, staring up at their own night sky and wondering if anyone else was looking up?

—

The Phoenix lander on Mars found ice yesterday. I don’t think there is a child standing on Mars and looking up, but where there is water, there is the potential for life. Finding organics on another planet is something I’d like to see in my lifetime.

Here’s hoping.

Now it’s time for a musical interlude:

Life takes you up, and it can take you down
Like a hurricane it blows your feelings all around
But here we are, back on solid ground
Ain’t it funny how one day you’re lost and then you’re found

And now we’re together, with someone to catch us when we fall
Now we’re together, and nothing else matters at all

When you go from

Rags to riches, all your wishes
Suddenly come true
And it’s a new begining, a chance at winning
This time we can’t lose
…Changin’ these rags to
Rags to riches
This time we can’t lose
Rags to riches!

My god I loved that theme song. Tisha Campbell on the lower 3rd and the holler. Yay 1988! ANYWAY…

Photo by Rick Aguilar

By now you’ve looked at the picture in this post and asked yourself “Self, who is that vision in the cream dress with the platinum flip and the tasteful single strand of pearls?” Milliseconds later you realize that it is Peter Mavrik, painted and powdered for the back row.

Ain’t no shame in my game.

I’m not new to the drags. Many years ago (I think in the early 1630’s) I used to paint my face, slither into my denim coochie cutters, slip on my fishnets, pumps, wig, and head out to the clubs. And coochie cutters, for those who don’t know, are those indecent short-shorts that tend to display a little more of the candy shop than most mothers would prefer. You know the ones.

Back in the wayback, drag was my way to get in bars before I was 21. A fiercely painted face and my 36 C’s tended to get me into most gay bars without the need to show my ID. It was dumb, illegal, exciting, and one of the biggest rushes I’ve ever experienced.

I can’t forget the first time I was in Fusion on the walkway above the dance floor. I think it was the summer of 1634. I looked down and saw a throbbing sea of shirtless men. Martha Wash was, from the speakers, commanding everybody to dance now. I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and got the spins so bad I nearly passed out. As I faltered, a handsome slab of beefcake caught me in his big guns and cooed in my ear “Careful gurl. You’ve got to maintain honey chile.”

It didn’t help that I weighed 104 pounds and had four drinks in under an hour.

Once I righted myself and got a glass of water with a straw (mind the lipstick), I stood leaning on the railing for what seemed like hours. Below me were hundreds of men who liked men and knew all the words to every CeCe Penniston, EnVogue, Toni Braxton, Deborah Cox, AND Ace of Base song. Just like me. Except there I was, in heels, giving them fem realness.

As time passed and I began to develop friendships with the door folks, I started wearing less makeup and dressing more masculine. In time, I was able to into most places as a guy. Drag was my ticket into the gay nightlife world, but I never wanted to be a woman. I know plenty of folks from that time that are either in the process of becoming women, or already are.

And so a new chapter begins in my life.

The stage reading of L’imitation of Life marks my first acting gig in drag as an adult. I used to lip-sync and go-go in face in the late 1800’s, but I’ve never acted as a 8 year old girl, much less a 16 year old ingenue with a penchant for knives.

In truth, it ain’t easy. I have to keep much more control in my voice than I ever thought. My cats must think I’m bonkers because I keep babbling to myself out loud at home in my young Suzie Turner voice and my teenage Sandra Dee pitch. I was reading Chapterhouse: Dune out loud last night, trying to find where the characters live in my throat. It’s challenging, but also fun as hell, and I’m blessed to be working with a team of actors who are the bee’s knees.

Ed Jones cracks me up with a glance, Mike Miller, the man of a million voices, is so over-the-top funny, and Chad McLaughlin is delicious to work with. Aaron Holland as Annie is ebonically brilliant and Laura Korn is a ham from Hamville and plays a crazy girl with ease.

Our director/costumer/producer David Cerda, who also has a role in the show (!), has a wickedly sharp sense of comedy. I don’t know how he does it, but he’ll give a note that turns a flat line into pure comedy. It’s so very Handbag.

Do you live in Chicago? Can you make it to the show? I’d love to see you there…

The funny thing about the blogosphere, unlike old media, is that the content can pretty much dry up at any given time. A prolific blogger can suddenly goes postless. A photo blog, pictureless. A podcaster (myself included) stops producing podcasts.

There is nothing wrong with a lapse in content. Life gets in the way at times. And in my book, blogging shouldn’t ever feel like work. It should be a joyful thing that enhances the world around you. Sadly, so many blogs I formerly read have lost that spark.

I spent an hour before the sun rose today cleaning out my Google Reader. My eye wasn’t on the posters that stopped producing, but instead on those that lacked smart content. I’ve discussed this many times, both on my own podcast and elsewhere, and it’s a concept I stick to.

Out with the old, tired, I-blog-therefore-I’m-cool sites. I was surprised how many of them I actually subscribed to. No, I don’t need to see an excess of flesh-laden pictures. No, I don’t need to read about what you ate at McDonalds. No, I don’t care about your morning coffee thoughts anymore. No, your lesbian perspective on the world is neither lesbian, nor a perspective. And who are you kidding by thinking your podcast is anything more than a PR machine trying to make money? Seriously, it’s reality check time.

I’d still read those blogs (or listen to the podcasts) if the writers actually had anything to say. But where there is no smart content, there is no interest from Peter Mavrik. Sad, because filling the internets for the sake of filling the internets is rather Sisyphean.

I do love to tell my blog about my problems, thoughts, and the world around me, trying to keep enough smart content embedded in the posts to make them worthwhile. And if nothing else, I’ll toss you a picture or two that’ll make you think.

But think about it. What do you read on the internets regularly, and why? What exactly keeps you coming back for more? If you do like those pictures, or reading what someone ate at McDonalds, or someone else’s morning coffe thoughts, there isn’t anything wrong with that. But what is it doing for you?

I leave you with a quote from the character of Mame Dennis played beautifully by Rosalind Russell in Auntie Mame:

Life’s a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!

Amen Mame. Amen.

Mom & Dad on Father’s Day

Aretha performs at around 1:36 in. I can’t really say much, because the song says it all.

Today is one of those days where I could feel overwhelmed with everything that is on my plate and all that is swirling around in life right now. I say I could feel overwhelmed, but really, I don’t. I like being this busy. However, o blog of mine, o theraputic beast that you are, I need to profess to you my to-do list in the hopes that saying it aloud (or rather, saying it to the internets) will in some way inspire me to tackle this list head on.

The nominees in the category of things Peter Mavrik needs to get done are:

• Create a costume plot for L’imitation of Life with David
• Learn my lines for the scenes where I have exactly five lines. It IS a stage reading with scripts, but there is really no excuse
• Figure out my face for a press photo shoot on Monday
• Figure out if and what I’m bringing as a gift to a birthday party tomorrow
• Try and make a stop at Midsommarfest this weekend
• Meet up with the delicious T-Bags for some much needed social drinking. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her and I’m jonesin’ for a Smith injection.
• Cook something with the rhubarb that is teasing me every time I open the refrigerator door
• Finalize the shopping lists for my party menu. Looks like I might be feedin’ 45 or so
• Determine the whereabouts of a wayward friend
• Attempt to stop listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water on repeat. Another friend lost his father and I can’t seem to tolerate any other music at the moment.
• Put my bedroom back in order after the painting my Dad did. My clothes are still living in the living room.
• Sort out the ambient music for my friend Borris’ fashion show

That, believe it or not, is the short list.

I got my first box of veggies this week. Included were two kinds of cheese (I bought a cheese share), a dozen eggs (not shown), lettuce, asparagus, radishes, green garlic, rhubarb, chives, mint, a jar of pear butter, spinach, and a carton of white mushrooms.

So, after washing most of it I decided some veggie dinner was in order. A couple slices of pesto cheddar with wheat wafer bread, some steamed asparagus with coarse salt and butter, and a bowl of sliced raw radishes and steamed spinach topped with chives, salt, olive oil, and red wine vinegar.

For dessert, I tried the pear butter on some wheat crackers. Mmmm. Delish!

We had our first read through of the L’imitation of Life script last night, minus two characters. There was some sort of scheduling / location kerfluffle and we read without them. It went well, but we read right before we watched the film and I realized I had some stuff spot on…the bits where my character is 16. But for the little girl, I gotta get this nasally thing she has in the film down.

I’d rehearse right now, but my Dad is painting my bedroom. Who doesn’t love a parent who is a professional painter?

Tonight we’re actually in a rehearsal space, so it’ll be interesting to read with the new folks and their parts in the mix.

Nasal. I need to make ‘her’ nasal.

I’m incredibly excited to be a part of Handbag’s Summer Camp 2 series. Instead of behind-the-scenes I’m on stage for this one, playing the character of Suzie Turner in L’imitation of Life, a parody of Imitation of Life. But you knew this already.

The hardest part for me right now is getting her look right. I’ve been playing with my eyebrows and I think I’ve got them, but I’ve decided to add something interesting into the mix. After much research and lots and lots of hemming and hawing, I went ahead and purchased an airbrush makeup kit.

No, it isn’t a top-of-the line kit. I can’t justify spending that much money just yet until I practice. I decided to purchase a moderately priced Dinair kit. Now, it’s not as if I need to airbrush my makeup on to turn into Sandra Dee. And funny enough, I may end up not using it at all for the part. But it’s given me a hell of an excuse to drop some cash on a new and interesting area of research.

I wanted an airbrush kit when I was 14. Of course, I didn’t want it because I thought I’d use it for makeup, but then again, who doesn’t remember watching Pris in Blade Runner spray the purple makeup across her eyes? Very raccoon she was. It left an impression on me.

For the last couple weeks I’ve been sifting around on the internets, scouring youtube and a million other video sites looking for example videos of airbrush makeup kits. Most, if not all folks recommend buying a professional Iwata airbrush and compressor. But, for the same cost as that hardware, I’m getting a smaller compressor, the airbrush, and a complete set of makeup from Dinair.

So with any luck, I’ll get the kit in a week or two and start playing with it. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help me flesh out those gamine eyebrows I’ve been longing to have since I was a child since I found out I was cast in the show.

The Apple WWDC Keynote 2008 told us on July 11th, we’ll get and iPhone with:

3G
GPS built-in
A shiny black back
Exchange e-mail

So yes, I’ll be taking the day off on the 11th to wait outside of a store to buy the next iPhone.

For realz.