(no subject)

Our current play is by a playwright who has been dead for some time, though I'm not entirely sure someone outside of theatrical circles would be aware of that. Thus, our stifled laughter at the following exchange is probably pretty unfair.

Patron: So has [dead playwright] written anything new?
Coworker M: Not lately, sir.
Sam: I hear he's more into gardening now.
Patron: *wanders off*
Coworker C: *unable to contain herself any longer* He makes the best compost.

We have one patron whom everyone knows, because he's been with us for many years and is one of our biggest fans. He's an older gentleman and while he's pretty lucid in other respects, he has a bit of a neurosis about his theatre tickets. He calls us, once every week or two, asking us to send him new copies of his tickets, which he has "lost". His husband, bless 'im, says they have about eight sets at home and so we know not to send out any more.

He came to the theatre today and was an object of great interest to us noobs, since we'd heard much about him but never met him. He's a tidy, good-looking man in a wheelchair, who smiles very brightly and has a t-shirt with our logo on it which he is obviously hugely proud of (he also has a rainbow sticker on the back of his chair, for the win). It's clear that looking after him is a labour of love for his husband; it's nice to watch them, knowing just enough about their life to piece together a story and not quite enough that you can't use a little imagniation.

I am home, and very tired. But I can't nap till eight, because I'm fasting after eight pm and thus eating more-or-less continually until that time.

(no subject)

Well, I've packed up my most comfortable clothes, a pair of pyjamas, some snickers bars, and a book to read. I've laid out clothes for tomorrow and made sure I had enough cash to get a taxi to the El on Tuesday.

Tomorrow morning I leave bright and early to go to the hospital; my clinical trial is ending and they have lots of tests to run, so I'll be staying overnight and coming home Tuesday evening. Nothing dangerous or invasive, other than a few IV needles. I'll no doubt post from my mobile, but other than that I probably won't be around until Tuesday night. The trial was not terribly well-executed, but that's hardly my concern, considering I've had free treatment and will get $400 for the past sixteen weeks.

Having chaperoned a friend of mine through her submissive awakening, and being the kind of guy who rolls with just about anything, I have a fair amount of knowledge about the BDSM lifestyle. At heart, for many submissives I've known, is the fact that the Dom/sub relationship is really about the sub -- with some exceptions, the sub is in control without being "in control", which is what makes it attractive to people with high-pressure, high-powered jobs. It's a way to consciously give up that control they have to keep the rest of the time, and give themselves over to being cared for, to being told precisely what to do so that the strain of uncertainty and independent thought is removed. There is a great deal of caretaking that a Dom or Master commits to when they take responsibility for their sub or slave.

I'm not a sub, and have no desire to be in a power play relationship at either end of the spectrum, but I am an independent and tightly-controlled person, so I understand the appeal. Despite the needles and the fasting, I've been looking forward to the hospital because it means that for two days, control is out of my hands. I have a legitimate reason not to go anywhere or do any of the ordinary things I would do (laundry, dishes, errands, bills, being nice to patrons, and/or worrying about all of the previous). The responsibility for my health and well-being is in the hands of someone else. It's not something I could commit to on a large scale, but two days of it for pay...that's awfully nice.