The Intergalactic Diva Network
I spent the better part the night clutching 3 x 5 quad rule index card and rehearsing scenes from my revamped one woman show The Intergalactic Diva Network.
First I selected shoes; 7.5” patent pleather black get-it-girl platforms, which I believed would enable me to fully embody the character. Then I made pancakes and marveled at my ability not to burn down the condo.
Before I could actually begin rehearsing I needed another swipe of MAC’s Film Noir and another hit of Angel perfume.
Do you know how difficult it is to rehearse on a full belly? Cranked up Magnum P.I. on the old Netflix Instant View and did the electric slide (in those hell heels) to the theme song.
The Intergalactic Diva Network is really an umbrella term for a revolving collection of short stories I am constantly trying to shape into a solid hour of cheeky entertainment. The kind of entertainment scored with the dulcet tones of dinner plates clattering to the ground and patrons being bused in from area nursing homes for the award winning meatloaf casserole.
First piece on deck: “In 1978 my mother and her best friend Pat got kicked out of a Weight Watcher meeting in San Antonio, Texas for sitting in the back eating funions and heckling the other WWers.”
I am not getting my mother’s voice quite right. I am getting her essence and doing a banging job evoking her mannerisms, but there has got to be vocal way of conveying her indifference to WW other than stating, “She went to WW meetings to get out of the house and had absolutely no interest in dieting whatsoever.”
Thomas Magnum has a tendency to wear very short shorts, which was infinitely more fascinating than deconstructing my mother’s motivations.
Getting back to the performance … Trying to resist picking the paper cut on my thumb. The sting of pain followed immediately by the satisfying ahhh… rinse, lather, repeat.