Silliness, A State Of Grace

"Entertainment and art are not isolated."

-Martin Kippenberger

When I came to New Orleans to live, I decided that I was going to do without cable television. I had cable TV in my last apartment in Florida, and realized that when I was at home, the TV was on constantly. I had about 700 channels and never found anything worthwhile to watch. I rarely read books or magazines, I have an enormous CD collection that was barely ever explored or listened to. Since I began this rather daring "experiment", I am pleased to say that I always have something to read, my periodicals do not get backed up and the pleasure of having music on in the background is infinitely better than hearing the hacksaw voice of Rachel Ray, ever.

I still enjoy some visual entertainments, however. I have a Netflix account that really gives me my money's worth. I receive television series from time to time, but the difference is that I choose what I want to watch and when. Some episodic series are very addictive. For instance, I just concluded the fifth season of Nip/Tuck. The depravity is staggering...This of course does not hold a candle to the fabulous melodramas and comedies that appear live on stage any given day of the week at 1239 Marais Street. I am speaking of the improvisational antics of myself and my glamorous houseguest.

We constantly entertain each other. The common goal of everyday life is for one to crack the other one up. Sometimes costumes and mouth props are employed to great effect. We enjoy each others well-developed sense of the absurd and general silliness. The entertainments typically commence with the tiniest drop of alcohol, savored in such pristine amounts as though it were the last of Aunt Pittypat's fine Madeira. There is much singing and our unique harmonies fill the air. These occasions I shall here on out refer to as musicales. We frequently hold musicales in my kitchen while waiting for dinner to be prepared or a delectable dessert to be pulled from my lovin' oven. During one such musicale, I prepared a cherry pie. As there was Southern Gospel crooning from the surround-sound, we adopted a Plantation theme. I don't think that antebellum house-workers ever had such fine, golden grilles as we do. So flashy! What a strange reality we inhabit. Seriously. By the way, the grilles were extravagantly bestowed upon us several Christmases ago by our dear sister Gyps, who was often in attendance for past musicales. Gyps, as you read this, please know that there is no earthly way of displaying our gratitude. The grilles really are a gift that keeps on giving.

One day, as Kevin returned from work, he was greeted by none other that Little Edith Beale, The Worlds Greatest Danseur.

Unfortunately, no genuine photographs exist of this instance, but you get the idea. Imagine, a chenille throw and a t-shirt improvised as a head scarf can create enchantment. As Hallowe'en is fast approaching, and is a well loved and eagerly anticipated holiday in New Orleans, you, dear readers, should be absolutely beside yourselves with the maddening thrill of seeing the New Beales of Grey Gardens in a very tasteful photographic essay. More to come! You'll have never dealt with such staunch characters!

A more recent musicale saw a loving tribute to Sister Wendy, the beloved bucktoothed British nun/art historian. She had a very profound effect on us when we watched her eloquently explain important artworks in galleries and museums world-over. See how we appear to explain important artworks in my home?
We realize that this is a rather obscure reference, but those in the know will no doubt be touched by this moving series. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

It is non-stop, madcap fun. I imagine that our musicales and theatre were quite similar to how the world entertained itself before the advent of radio or television. Generations of people world over sang, danced, performed morality plays and struck interesting tableaux for the sake of fighting ennui.
From shadow puppetry projected by firelight onto cave walls to Live! With Peaches and Toenisha! Frankly, Cox Cable can suck it...