I’m getting better about writing. That is both therapeutic and a good sign for my mental health. The Monday that started Thursday afternoon continued though to yesterday. On Thursday I got my flu shot. Even in the midst of a prolonged Monday that was not a problem and I urge all of my Gentle Readers in the Northern Hemisphere to get there’s. You should also get your bivalent COVID-19 booster. I already got mine. Don’t let the ignorant people lead you astray the vaccines are safe and effective. Don’t take my word for it, read Your Local Epidemiologist, Katelyn Jetalina. She is my go to source for infectious disease information. There are plenty of others.
On Saturday, my plan was to pick something up at Marshal’s. When I went into the D train station, I saw that the turnstiles were roped off. The D station is closed all weekend and will be closed every weekend through mid-December. The entrance to the station should have been taped off and that information given without going downstairs. That’s going to make it much harder for me to get places. I will have to always take the 4 train and then if I need the D switch at Yankee Stadium where the D is terminating. I was going to take the Bus but just as the bus came, I remembered that I had planned on voting. My polling place was I the opposite direction, but it was a beautiful day and I walked to my early voting location at the Montefiore Community Center where I was reminded that it was still Monday. I walked in and was told that I should take the elevator to the basement. No way I want to take an elevator to the basement, I can certainly walk that. I asked where the stairs were and was told, “Take the elevator, I’ll take you.” I had the same problem in my polling place in Briarwood. They wanted me to take an elevator up one flight and wouldn’t tell me where the stairs were. When I got to the basement, I went to the intake table. When you do early voting you don’t go a table specific for your election district. You tell them your name and they print a new form for you. I have worked as an election worker so know the rest of the process well. I went to a privacy booth and voted. I had studied the ballot at home so knew who to vote for. There was one part I was not properly prepared for. When someone runs unopposed, I will not vote for them. This is especially true of judgeships which are often decided by wheeling and dealing between the Democrats and Republicans. You’ll see the same candidate running in both parties. That’s not what happens here in the Bronx where the Republicans are not competitive; here there is but one candidate running. I still wanted to write in. If the Republicans don’t have the numbers to be competitive the Working Family Party should have a nominee. As it is, even though they are elected Judgeships in New York State are essentially patronage jobs. You get them not for being a great lawyer but by being a good fundraiser for the party.
What I had not prepared with was whom to vote for. Over the year I have voted for myself, my family, my friends, and even fictional characters. More than one hobbit has received my vote. If I’m going to protest, I’m going to do it in style. There were three judges running unopposed, so I tried to think of a troika of nominees. Once when given that choice I went with the members of Red Molly. Remembering that I went with the women of Bobtown, Jen McDearman, Karen Dahlstrom, and Katherine Etzel. I dutifully filled in the oval indicating a write-in and filled in the three names … where only one name should have gone. There were cross-outs. I carelessly crossed out all three names and had to squeeze one of their names in. Then I filled the other two write-in spots.
After that debacle I was a bit nervous about writing in the other unopposed candidates, for State Assembly and Senate. I was going to write in the fourth member of Bobtown, Alan Backer but didn’t because he doesn’t live in my district. Even though I’m making a silly protest vote and have voted for cartoon characters in the past, I will only vote for a rep that lives in my district. Instead, I just voted for the unopposed Democrat.
When I put my ballot in the scanner my fears were realized, it was rejected as unreadable. I knew it was because of what I did with the write-ins. As a poll worker I knew exactly what to do, get a new ballot and have my old one voided. I brought my ballot to the table and the worker did something unthinkable, she opened my ballot and started studying who I voted for looking for the mistake I made. That is of course against the law. How can anyone, let alone a poll worker, not know we have a secret ballot? That’s drilled into us when we train. We are not only never to look at a ballot, but we should never be close enough to read it by glancing over. People have to be confident that their vote is private. I told her she can’t do that. She officiously said, “I have to do it.” What she meant was that she didn’t want to go through the bother of entering the info to print out another ballot. Today I called and lodged a complaint against her. You can’t fight City Hall or Mondays.
Wow I’ve written 966 words and not gotten to the main thing I wanted to write about, seeing Jill Sobule’s new musical, F*CK 7th Grade. I love Jill and she’s magical, but not powerful enough to defeat a Monday. Guess what train was the fasted way to get to the Wild Project in the East Village. You got it, the D. Taking the 4 added 20 minutes to the trip. Fine, I just had to leave earlier. That would be easier if my watch hadn’t stopped. I hope it just needs a new battery. I managed to get to the theater at 7:57 for an 8 PM curtain. Whew. On Broadway they always start 7 minutes late. Off-Off Broadway might not be as regular, but I knew I’d have time. My seat was in row J. The row numbers were written on the armrests and most of those were blocked by people’s elbows. I was lucky and saw Row H and knew I was two rows back of that. Except I wasn’t. As other people came, I saw I was in row K. How did that happen? There is no row I. I have no idea why. I still had time and moved up one row. That’s when I noticed that I didn’t have my phone. I had it in the pouch of my hoodie that I had taken off when I sat down. It apparently fell out. I looked on the seat and didn’t see it. I saw my glasses on the ground a few seats away but even with the help of others I couldn’t find my phone. I asked the woman sitting next to where I originally sat to call my number. She was kind enough to do it. I couldn’t hear it ring but the person on the other side of my original seat did. It had fallen between the two seats. Whew. Mondays are a bitch. F*CK Monday.
When Jill took the stage, her power waxed and drove Monday away. It was not a one woman show, she was joined by three other lesbians. I avoid using gendered and sexual preference terms when not relevant, in this case that’s central to the story. It starts in 7th grade when Jill wanted to be a spy and a rock star, things that girls were not supposed to do. Then her friends discovered boys while she discovered girls and was ostracized. So, here’s the thing, I’m a straight male and I had no trouble relating. And it’s not just because I was called fag all through middle and high school. Sure, I wasn’t actually gay, and I wasn’t a girl, but I was enough outside the adolescent norms to attract harassment. I suspect being outside the norms is the norm; why else are the story of the ostracized weirdo makes good perhaps the popular trope in all of literature? It’s a thread running through our culture from Cinderella to Harriet the Spy to Harry Potter.
I’m not saying that I know what it’s like to be an adolescent lesbian, I’m saying I, and perhaps all of us know what it’s like to be the outsider. The key and arrangements are vastly different, but they still have the same chord progressions. Or maybe it’s just that Jill is an amazing artist that I love. My money is on it being better. Part of being an amazing artist is the ability to throw light on the universals where it isn’t obvious.
It certainly helps that I have been a fan of Jill’s since the release of her 1995 eponymous album. The hit from the album was I Kissed a Girl, no, not that Katy Perry song. Jill’s came first. Ironically that was not the song that I first knew of hers, it was not played on WFUV. I don’t remember what their focus track was, perhaps Trains. It’s hard for me to remember as I’ve listened to the album so many times and have seen her perform the songs live countless time. I remember hearing I Kissed a Girl on Vin Scelsa’s show. He even had her as a guest where she sang it live. I heard it other places, but not on the station that I listened to the most often. I wondered if Rita Houston was perhaps homophobic. That’s hysterical in hindsight as Rita was gay, I just didn’t know it then. It’s strange thinking of it as funny as we lost Rita far too soon, but that doesn’t change the irony and the humor of my foolishness.
The show starts in 7th grade but continues through college, dropping out of college and playing open mics, to being discovered by a record label. It doesn’t stop there and progresses to years later when she’s a self-professed two-hit wonder and confronts her middle school tormenter. I won’t spoil how that turns out. You want to see the show. I want to see it again. The penultimate song was not autobiographical but is perhaps my favorite song of hers, Underdog Victorious. It features an adolescent gay boy in the roll of Harry Potter or Jill, dreaming of his ultimate victory of being accepted for being himself. Things are cliches because they strike a chord. Poor artists rely on the cliché, great ones use it as a building block.
I have left out the biggest bonding element the show revealed for me and Jill. Remember how I said she wanted to be a spy. What cool kid didn’t? She said that she had a James Bond Camera that turned into a gun. I had a Man from U.N.C.L.E camera that turned into a gun. It was probably the same toy, rebranded after The Man From U.N.C.L.E was canceled. After the show Jill saw it on sale online for a ridiculous price. I just found it. I was right it was also called Agent Zero.
Who is going to buy this for me and Jill? We both want it. To be honest even though I’m for strengthening gun regulations and reject America’s love affair with guns I want one where both the camera and gun work. Jill, you with me? I promise we won’t shoot anyone.
It was a beautiful night so after talking to Jill after the show I walked from the theater at 3rd and between Avenues A and B to Union Square so I could take the 4 all the way home. On the way I stopped at the dollar pizza place on third avenue that I’ve stopped at so often after shows at Rockwood. Everything worked out perfectly as Jill at full power could put an end to the endless Monday.
Wise Madness 