Getcha Holy On

in my real life, or, i should say, my past life in seattle that's faded to almost a dream over this last month, i'm the homiest homebody ever...i don't go out unless i'm performing and i don't have people over unless they are performing (wink/wink), but here, in my now life, my glamalicious rockstar new york life, i'm such the girl about town! look! that's me! at every art opening, film debut and poetry reading. every fabulous party, and restaurant. i even attended an amazingly beautiful wedding this weekend, something i never do as i usually find ceremony's of eternal comitment either excruciatingly boring or depressing. sometimes both. but this one rocked. (congrats taylor and marie-elizabeth!)

but now that i've been here two weeks, and i know my way around the city pretty ok, it's time to get back to work. talking to rives yesterday on the way to the catskils about poetry, spoken word, one woman shows and the (lost) art of storytelling it hit me that my show, coochie magic, really has no through story line, and i'd like to insert one. without giving too much of it away, i think the story will start with the etymolygy of the word whore (from the greek -i think- horae, which means holy) and tell the story of an ancient temple babe who fucked to get her holy on. there's an ancient tantric scripture that says something like, 'the more the yoni is used, the holier it becomes' and that concept is very central to the show. so a story that incorporates the idea of feminine sexuality as sublime, and women having sex the ultimate act of worhip. yeah. that's it....more later...christa