Who you looking for? Jimmy Jazz

I was up way too late last night. Oh well. The good news is that apparently, I know how to shimmy.
My day was boring. I worked. I drafted, and I got it done, basically. I need to do an elevation as well, but the groundplan and section are really hard to extrapolate from, what with nothing labeled or dimensioned. Feh. And then I was tricked into watching performance art. My cousin had said that she and friends would be up to something, and did I want her to call me in the evening? I hate missing out on anything, so when she called and said something about spaghetti dinner, puppetry, this thing, I said sure, and went. It was a fundraiser for Great Small Works, and it was odd. I threw down my siggested donation, and found Sarah, and got my spaghetti (which was good, though odd. Who puts olives and carrots into sauce?) and she introduced me to a bunch of people who's names I promptly forgot. I really need to work on my face-to-name retention. So I sat, and ate, and there was a kind of video being projected, and I couldn't quite see the relation, but hey, why question it. I had also realized that the attendance was almost entirely Jewish. While I like Sarah, and I'm glad she's taking me places, I am starting to feel like a total fraud, masquerading as a Jew, who has some sense of music. Finally it started, and they explained that the first hour was kind of choose-your-own-adventure, in the main room was a rock opera, upstairs was spoken word, downstairs was painting done to improvised music. Aaaand, go! Sarah was in the rock opera, so I stuck around for it, only to quickly realize that holy shit I am watching performance art, the kind I really hate. It was about 20 people wandering around, occasionally hitting rocks together, and rustling their butcher paper tunics. I have no appreciation for such things, so I went downstairs to the painting and music. During dinner, the drummer for this sat been sitting next to me, and had said something about the whole thing being improvised, and working off of each other. Hey, cool, I thought. I kind of like this sort of thing. But watching it was unsatisfying. And really loud. The band was improvising off each other, but really had no relation to the painter. He was working with a roller and black, white and red paint. You know, the colors of angst. Or something. It seemed like it was a large skeletal dog in mid stride, and something else that turned out to have wings, and kind of a city scape. I figured that he had kind of started randomly, and then worked off his initial strokes until he saw an idea, and then kept going with that, and the musicians just kinid of rocked out next to him. But after about 20 minutes (seriously, I sat there for that long) I noticed that in his hand, previously hidden by the pan of paint, was a little sketch! What the hell? I thought he was improvising! No wonder the music didn't match up with him at all. I kind of felt cheated, and went back upstairs to try to meditate to the rocks. Earlier there had been a couple sitting next to me, and the guy had been talking about some sort of space that they were renting or opening, and how (as best I can quote him) "god is a reality, whatever that may mean, he's in the world, part of the world, and you can interpret that as you will. And so we're interesting in exploring the world through that reality, through the reality of god that we have been given" and talking about having a church service of some sort, Gregorian chants one week, rock music another, "this stuff the next week. Well, I don't know what this is, never mind" and having Beatles songs in the hymnbooks. Weird. They left just as I came back up. Finally finally finally, we were led back downstairs, and the whole point of the evening became clear. Great Small Works has a show opening the 4th, and this was a fundraiser for it, and so we got to see a couple exerpts from it. It's a puppet show, and it was pretty good. It was very funny, though I think I would have appreciated it more if I were actually Jewish. But it was good. Unfortunately, it was only 15 minutes or so, and then back upstairs for dancing. I do not dance. And really, I really like watching other people dance, but then Sarah made me get up, and I ended up having a good time. I even started up the Electric Slide far a bit.
Afterwards, I went and got shawarma with Sarah and two of her friends. I was kind of eyeing the guy, Ben, and when we got home, I asked her how old he was. Of course, he's about her age. Which means he was born in '79. Of course. Way to perpetuate the pattern, me. I don't know how I do it, but literally half of the guys that I am attracted to were born in either '78 or '79. I don't understand. In any case, he's off limits, being a musician.