I'm The One

Henry: Hey Kage. Wanna feel my steel?
Kage: (faints)

I was looking for a lover
Living underneath the sun 
Thought I was the other 
When I knew I was the one 


Caught a handle on the rising sun 
Took a day to rise and fall 
At the end of the trail I was scarred and burned 
But I felt no pain at all 


Walking through a world of lies 
With a heart made out of stone 
I looked deep into my eyes 
And I knew I was alone 


~ Black Flag

Did you know that doing your homework can actually lead to new ideas of your own? No, I’m serious - it’s true! Well, it might be true. Recent events and new evidence suggest that it might be true. Regardless, I uncovered this potential phenomenon yesterday morning, when I accidentally did some homework for my writing class.

The assignment given last week was to do a full character description for at least one character out of our individual written prose. Every time I glanced at the stack of questions throughout the past seven days, I would scoff at it and think, I don’t need to do this crap. I KNOW my character, thank-you very much.

Because in a nut sack shell, she Sir, is me, Sir.

“Write about what you know” is the old tried and true adage, right? So at the beginning of this course I wondered to myself, Do I know anything about anything? And the answer, of course, was a resounding no. But in close second came the fact that I know what it’s like to work as a professional dancer.  So basically, I’ve been writing about the misadventures of a completely insane young stripper, as she travels for work throughout Canada, Guam and Australia. A bit narcissistic, perhaps, but again, you gotta write about what you know.

The only other things I know how to do well are: a) how to make an omelette in under thirty seconds (you make someone else to do it), and b) how to stalk Henry Rollins. Though I haven’t really excelled in that arena either, seeing as I haven’t even been arrested for it yet.

YET.

Sigh. Sometimes my lack of ambition is truly disheartening.

Anyway, I decided to be a keener and do the assignment regardless of how superior I felt towards it, and, as it turns out, I don’t actually know a goddamn thing about my fictional character, either.

Which is hilarious, because I based the character on me, and my experiences as a dancer.

And that right there, friends and foes, will tell you everything you need to know about lil ol’ me. I really don't know SHIT about ANYTHING.

Doing the assignment turned out to be a godsend. I suddenly realized that I was trying to fit the experiences and stories of an entire lifetime into one girl, in one story; and I wanted her to encompass everything. I wanted to cram in all the stages I went through in life; the perfect ballerina and honor roll student, the rebellious little shit who pierced her belly button at thirteen, the over-ambitious dancer who wouldn’t stop until she became a feature and saw her name in lights, the crazy girl who was so high she couldn’t even find the address of her next stag. I had expected to adorn my character with all these crowns, to cram it all into one story, and for it all to make sense. And then I was going to make her President of the United States, just because I could.

Going through the character description assignment, though, I finally saw what I was doing, and I was able to stop doing it. Like, I learned something, you know? From, like, homework.

Hahahahahahahaha! Isn’t that fucking wild?!?!?! Who knew?

Anyway, on a quick final note, today is the last day for the KCRW fund raiser, the station that plays my imaginary boyfriend’s radio program every Saturday night. Here’s the link if you guys wanna listen to my baby’s show, which I know you do, cuz it fucking ROCKS:

http://www.kcrw.com/music/programs/hr

This past Saturday’s show was a really great one. If you have a few minutes you should go and check it out.

And if you have a few dollars, you should go and give it to KCRW - but put it in my name. I’m trying to get the Platinum Membership Package, which comes with a coffee mug, an autographed t-shirt, and a night of being thrown around a rubberized room by an oiled and topless Henry Rollins himself.

Which they are not technically offering as one of their thank-you gifts, as such.

But they should be. I'm working on it.


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