Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Shannon's LiveJournal:

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Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
6:42 pm	GUESS WHO'S "ENGAGED"... YEAH, MISS U KNOW WHO THE EMAIL I GOT YESTERDAY AFTERNOON. Hey Shannon, I've tried on and off to get a hold of you for the last four months with no response from you. What's up with this? usually I get some kind of random phone call from you.. kinda worried about ya. This feels weird writing what I need to tell you in an email, but since you won't call me here it goes. I recently got engaged to Debra this last Christmas, and I just wanted to let you know before word got to you in some other way. Were planning on having a ceremony sometime next year. I know we've been through so much Shannon, and I still consider you family. I hope that you can find it in your heart to except this.. and be a part of my life again. I really want you at my ceremony.. It would mean alot to me. Please Shannon, give me a call sometime.... really am worried about you. I hope everything is ok in your life... and that you found a way to continue with school. I'm giving you my new contact info. so you have it. Miss you and love ya! Jenn My new address is: 4415 Hamilton St. Apt.19 San Diego, CA 92116 My new phone is: 619 384-4781 P.S. Found out Courtney Marin is moving into her condo in New York this Summer, I guess she plans to live there for a while.. can you believe that! AND I'M THINKING JANICE IAN. "AT 17" SONG: IN THE WINTER THIS LETTER: INTRO TO THE SONG IN MY CABARET SHOW AH... LIKE WHAT IF I "ACCIDENTALLY" MADE AN APPOINTMENT TO MEET "DEBRA"- SHE'S A THERAPIST, AFTERALL... IN CALIFORNIA, BUT NEVERTHELESS... HAHA... JUST KIDDING. BUT REALLY. THIS HIT ME YESTERDAY. OF COURSE I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HER ANYMORE BUT IT MAKES YOU LOOK AT SOMETHING AND SAY "THIS IS REAL". THIS IS HAPPENING. SHE REALLY IS GONE. AND WE REALLY WERE SOMETHING. AND NOW WE REALLY ARE NOTHING. AND THE PAIN REALLY WAS AND IS REAL AND I THINK ALL OF THE SUDDEN A LOT OF WORDS HAVE MORE MEANING TO ME. "AND IN THE WINTER EXTRA BLANKETS FOR THE COLD. FIX THE HEATER, GETTING OLD. YOU ARE WITH HER NOW, i KNOW... I AM ALONE FOREVER, NOT TOGETHER NOW." NOW THAT MAY SOUND A BIT EXTREME AND IT IS-- BUT TRULY, WE ARE BOTH VERY SEPARATE AND DIFFERENT PEOPLE WHEN OUR LIVES ARE NOT CONNECTED. IT'S NOT BAD, JUST DIFFERENT, STRANGE, NEW... AND NOW REAL. NO, I WILL NOT GO TO THE CEREMONY, AND I'M GLAD I DIDN'T ANSWER THE PHONE FOR FOUR MONTHS. AND KNOWING JEN, I'LL BET SOMEONE SOMETHING THE THING DOESN'T EVEN HAPPEN- BUT WHO KNOWS, THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING, RIGHT? MUCH LOVE ON AN ODD DAY IN MY HISTORY, SHANNON RUNION _________________________________________________________________ Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! Download today - it's FREE! http://messenger.msn.click-url.com/go/onm00200471ave/direct/01/ Current Mood: drained Current Music: JANICE IAN (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
11:59 am	My Space Topamax sprinkles in applesauce, (NOT pineapple) 100 calorie Oreo pack, sugar free lemonade from high maintenance roommate’s blue cup (think it’s been out since yesterday). Seroquel and finally my cigarette, Marlboro MEDIUM. I sit on someone’s old couch cushions that pose as my bed and ponder, should I spray dollar store air freshener to mask the smell? Not yet. For a second I wallow in the moment, you know, for the sake of the new poem. At the top of the trash lies an empty air freshener can. I’m an experienced smell masker. Experienced at disguising one thing to mean another. A lot of smoke this week, to aid my cold. It makes me feel like Dorothy Parker. “Im a fool to rise at all” (Not from this “bed”). I peruse my new room. It’s funny how I live- not quite right. Not all there, all in, or too deeply caught up. I read into everyone, the psychologist within- “Yes, but who are you really?” Not that it actually matters. but sometimes, god damnit, I need to know! I can’t help but get sick of searching within myself for answers that ought to be reachable out there but the world outside is an architectural nightmare compared to the design inside and I can’t figure out who broke the structure in the first place or if it was ever really created at all? The distance between my design and what I’m capable of seeing outside is creativity, is art? (Or is that too fartsy...) But that’s a world I might live in and want to bring people along. not in this peach ash flavored shit of cat hair and borderline alcoholic roommates... For now I look at the solid things and break them down. Some pills, effexor, digestable objects of life that make me see objects the same as everyone else; a cushion is a cushion, an Oreo crisp, an Oreo crisp. But cushions are sometimes Oreo crisps and a cigarette an abusive summer. What good is object identification in a world where we can’t even identify ourselves? Space around me always shouts. Why am I the only one listening? -Shannon Runion (Comment on this)
11:52 am	ahhhhh... She struts around the living room, high heeled not so shiny patent leather Mary Janes tripping on a plethora of mostly empty liquor bottles. Parading a Valentine red plaid "I suck him off in the bathroom" schoolgirl miniskirt slut look, her two sizes two small fishnet thigh highs push the excess fat from late night pizza runs to the top of her legs and keep it from sagging with a tightly wrapped ripped satin black bow. In a frantic run to get to the next bar, a strip joint I think, the wine from her shaking hand spills from the cup as she bends over to retrieve a fallen hot pink glossy lipstick tube her disheveled cat has decided to chase. She applies the gloss carefully as the cat licks the spilt wine from her fingers. She grabs her pinkest purse, pops a clonapyn wafer (or four), and wobbles down the cat urine soaked stairs past the angry downstairs neighbor's door, and out for her nightly routine obsession of drinking, making and losing new friends and lovers...Fucking alcoholic roommate. Go back to Landenburg. God damnit, I need a drink. (Comment on this)
11:46 am	Hey guys- I've been busy- But I'm alive- sort of. Here's some stuff to read. Dedicated to the gay uncle i never had... I was the stage manager of his one man show, "isn't it sarcastic", in which he lightly dipped into his relationship with one of the most famous musical theatre composers of our time. ************************** Isn't It Sarcastic? Emotionally slaughtered New York displaced middle- aged gay male seeks refuge on Philly Stage in one man show, "Isn't It Sarcastic?" I hope so, because I've strung together sarcastic stories of life, slice by slice for you to devour and me to wallow in. (And balloons by my lovely assistant, Shannon) Wanted: an audience who will listen. You must not be: homophobic, as loneliness knows no boundaries. Please know who Stephen Sondheim is, Uta Hagen, Gilda Radner and Olympia Dukakis. I want you to get my jokes. I don't joke about Stephen. Not much, as he was my lover. And now nobody is damned near good enough for the Dougster. Wanted: An alcoholic audience in case I'm not sarcastic enough. I'll be drinking Country Time Lemonade (mixed by my lovely assistant, Shannon) because I no longer drink. Please bring your friends and any famous musical theatre composers who might cast me in their next show. No, don't. Suddenly I don't want anybody to come. Wanted: no audience, no stage. Wanted: my television, my adjustable bed. Setting 99 for me, setting 3 for my cat. Do NOT come see this show. You silly, I was just being sarcastic! I'll see you there. Party favors will be provided (by my insane assistant, Shannon) -Shannon Runion ************************************ Current Mood: blah Current Music: joe's mix- 5 versions of "who is it" (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 21st, 2005
11:43 am	my obituary- i know you think im nuts- it was a class exercise! Shannon Heather Runion March 06, 1980- March 10, 2025 At the age of 45, writer, actor, singer, cabaret star, teacher and psychologist, Shannon Runion, passed away during a performance of Peter Pan. She just went to Neverland and never came back. And that is where I imagine she wanted to go, to that second star to the right that we forget to see, but sometimes catch a glimpse of. Shannon was better at staring at it, but sometimes for too long, I fear. Shannon's favorite place was the imagination, the unconscious world. As long as she could go there she was happy, she was sane. She made a life of finding pathways there and of bringing people into her world. Now that she's in Neverland her wish is for you to find your own place of shining bliss. And you can find it within yourselves. Born in San Diego, California she survived her awkward and unfortunate childhood by participating in the country’s most psychotic children’ theatre, where there were 12 Wendy's cast and only four performances. The director was an alcoholic with a P.h.d. in Children's Psychology who found it amusing to mess with Shannon's head, as if it weren't already tilted enough. Shannon once tried to kill herself by rope from the monkey bars. That was in the first grade. Her neck was red for weeks. Wise beyond her years, she grew up young and always understood everybody although they ignored her cries for help. So a writer was born. And mental illness. A great combination to make the future New York Times Best Seller- list. Miss Runion became a very famous memoir writer. The Times called her “angrier than Dorothy Parker, less well than Elizabeth Wurtzel and funnier than Sedaris”. At age 18 Shannon was extracted from California and moved to NYC by a cult that was an acting school, which she swore was a cover up for the moffia. They call it AMDA. She calls it SCAMDA. It ruined her for a long time, but most of all it made her insane. She developed Post Traumatic Acting School Stress Disorder. It's amazing she lived as long as she did. Shannon did sue SCAMDA at age 30 for millions of dollars and won, once PTASSD became a diagnosable illness, with much thanks to Shannon's thesis. It did take long for Shannon to get that far in school. Between the ages of 18 and 28 she became a professional student, getting booted from the University of the Arts Musical Theatre Program, which broke her heart. She thought she'd never see a stage again. She tried to get through the program twice. The first time she had to take a leave due to a drop of weight below 78 pounds (that grand PTASSD at it's best) and the second time an evil Acting Teacher teaching the famoud Meisner Method forced her off of her anti- anxiety pills so she could "feel better" to do the acting method. Shannon lost control, sported a t-shirt of her own invention "Meisner Made Me Do It...", and enrolled in Psychology and Creative Writing classes at the New School in New York. Upon Shannon's death today the Theatre and Writing Buildings at the University of the Arts in Philly are being dedicated to her name. They have publicly apologized for kicking her to the curb. Well, they should have known better. The New School gave her her first diploma. And she had never been more proud. College was a very important decade of her life. Upon graduation her first book had already been published, and she was a well- renowned teacher and cabaret star in Philadelphia, best known for her Peter Pan and Sound of Music sketches which she performed on Saturday Night Live. Her "kid cabaret" class was a local phenomenon and was touring east coast cities with high middle aged gay male populations. By age 35 she was a professional Psychologist and had invented her own form of therapy, “Cabaret Therapy”. It had been the title of her first cabaret show, but it also became a renowned form of therapy, now used worldwide for adults and kids alike. Just before Shannon died, her memoirs were made into a play she wrote and directed and it also became a movie starring the one and only Parker Posey. In heaven, Shannon resides in a huge house with her best friends Dorothy Parker, Mary Martin, Stephen Sondheim, Richard Rodgers, John Bucchino and Doug Anderson. There will be a service tomorrow with a party following in the Cabaret Room at the Society Hill Playhouse. Everyone is to bring and sing two contrasting songs that remind them of Shannon and will tell a story explaining why. If you don't sing, Rob Blackwell, Shannon's beloved accompanist, will be happy to play them for you. God Bless, or whatever blesses you. Shannon's Unconscious "voice" :-) (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, September 18th, 2005
6:05 pm	Philly Theatre Review Hey guys, the online version of the Philly theatre Review's up on the internet for the first time. www.phillytheatrereview.com The first print version will be in theatre lobbies Mid October... I'm sad my Improv article didn't make it because the site had to be sent somewhere for repair. :-( Ah well- I have to write another one for Novemeber. Still glad I went to the Improv show. I met cool people and they were actually talented. They do long form Improv, taking one word suggestions from the audience and turning them into one hour shows... I'm fat and lazy and didn't leave the apartment all weekend except to get a few coffees. Shannon (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 13th, 2005
11:00 am	My Space Topamax sprinkles in applesauce, (NOT pineapple) 100 calorie Oreo pack, sugar free lemonade from high maintenance roommate’s blue cup (think it’s been out since yesterday). Seroquel and finally my cigarette, Marlboro MEDIUM. I sit on someone’s old couch cushions that pose as my bed and ponder, should I spray dollar store air freshener to mask the smell? Not yet. For a second I wallow in the moment, you know, for the sake of the new poem. At the top of the trash lies an empty air freshener can. I’m an experienced smell masker. Experienced at disguising one thing to mean another. A lot of smoke this week, to aid my cold. It makes me feel like Dorothy Parker. “Im a fool to rise at all” (Not from this “bed”). I peruse my new room. It’s funny how I live- not quite right. Not all there, all in, or too deeply caught up. I read into everyone, the psychologist within- “Yes, but who are you really?” Not that it actually matters. but sometimes, god damnit, I need to know! I can’t help but get sick of searching within myself for answers that ought to be reachable out there but the world outside is an architectural nightmare compared to the design inside and I can’t figure out who broke the structure in the first place or if it was ever really created at all? The distance between my design and what I’m capable of seeing outside is creativity, is art? (Or is that too fartsy...) But that’s a world I might live in and want to bring people along. not in this peach ash flavored shit of cat hair and borderline alcoholic roommates... For now I look at the solid things and break them down. Some pills, effexor, digestable objects of life that make me see objects the same as everyone else; a cushion is a cushion, an Oreo crisp, an Oreo crisp. But cushions are sometimes Oreo crisps and a cigarette an abusive summer. What good is object identification in a world where we can’t even identify ourselves? Space around me always shouts. Why am I the only one listening? -Shannon Runion (Comment on this)
Monday, September 5th, 2005
6:23 pm	Labor Day Blues I'm not having the greatest of labor days... but am glad to be off work, except i need money. Honestly, when my friends were going to this bbq in washington square park, i wanted to stay home because i didn't feel good and didnt have 15 dollars to spend on drinks... i'm so broke! well, i decided to go to the bbq and it wasn't fun. i was out of place because it was like being in california with snotty people. the atmosphere was like la jolla or something- weird. but sarah and her boyfriend were there which was cool. i didn't even feel comfortable around my normal friends. that's because some of them aren't really my friends. and then i was kinda upset for this other reason that doesn't even make sense but I'm not going to talk about it because, like I said, you aren't going to get it and this isn't the place to explain it to you right now.... so, hmmmm.... If you haven't seen it in awhile, watch "A Mighty Wind". Parker posey is so adorable and the movie is my best friend. corky, my roommate's cate, is depressed. she's the one that was rescued and got run over by a car so her one ear is always bent and can't straighten. she's been pulling her hair out... they call it "over -grooming" in animal psychology... she needs kitty zoloft. and last nite alyssa's cat accidently burnt his tail on a tea candle... it was really funny... because it was that burnt cat hair smell and he didn't notice it till later then started to examine the new singed fur and funny smell... and the other cat that it was funny too, i think... well, so like i said, im not in the best of moods, but at least my apartment isn't under water in new orleans. I had the strangest dream last nite i remembered someone i knew in that city and then had to find them... but i don't know anybody... if i used writing therapy to figure that out, i'd most likely discover, a part of myself that is underwater inside that needs rescued that i remember in my unconscious but don't acknowledge when i'm awake... but that could be anything... i wonder what shannon that is, and please, will she come out soon, because it is unhealthy to keep parts of yourself drowning for too long... don't you agree? on a lighter note, i don't have anything very light to say, so i'll say goodbye for now! sound good? Byeeeee shanona Current Mood: blah (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 4th, 2005
1:07 pm	Life is a cabaret... so, last nite was one of the most interesting Tavern on camac nites to date... I met a couple who was trying to get me to be in the miss new jersey pageant... can u imagine me in a pageant? hahahahaha. I would have done it for the money... but i am too old. By a year. Yep. Anyways, he requested I sang "Suddenly seymour", so i did. And then "somewhere that's green". I had to because i messed them up so bad a few days ago on thursday when i sang them with nile... i don't know exactly why, except i was feeling kind of low on things and this guy was singing off pitch in my ear and i just couldn't do it. But i turned it around yesterday and I felt better. John's my man! He is so cute. The piano player. Love him!!! I woke up not feeling well. Well, I didn't exactly go to sleep. i ran out of sleeping pills and so i am still awake. of course. woooohooooo. And I am broooooooooke. what's new..... anyone want to give me money? I have set out on this journey to write a syllabus for my kid improvisation class, assuming enough kids sign up. i ordered a new book that someone told me to order and it has become my new bible. Apparently the women who invented improv as we know it, as an art form, was totally into teaching, studying and working with kids, as am i! perfect fit... her name is viola spolin... I am doing my November article on three local improv troupes- or two? This one guy, Rick, who taught a one day class i took, is going to give me some kid improv clues and im going to write an article about him... I may also see his fringe show and review that for the online publication- this is all for that philly theatre review. The doug anderston article is online now, the condensed version, and the full version will be printed in october. I also am working on an online plug for his fringe show and will write a review for his show too, if allowed. I spent this week at work in training and painting and cleaning the community center (fuck) and passing out fliers for doug (which was fun because i felt important) haha. I love Doug. He is the gay uncle and supportive family member I never had. I really love the guy. Honest to God. I am so lucky I met him and lucky he teaches me and I get it. Well, I don't feel good. I'm off to buy some zicam. Isn't that exciting???? With what money, you ask? good question. I don't know. But I will find some. somewhere. Somehow. Shannon Ps, I just got a message from a so called someone at work saying "why do you hate me?" Current Mood: sick Current Music: the hum of my crappy air conditioner (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 30th, 2005
9:28 pm	Life is a cabaret... kid cabaret so the madness at work has grown thicker... i've almost had to quit on a few occasions. this guy is harrassing me and the kids are getting to me- because i care too much about them? I can't explain it, but when I work with kids i get closer to myself and that makes me cry... it's a good thing to remember me and want to be me again, but a scary thing too... but it's good thing to want to be shannon, for all of those people out there wondering perhaps "whatever happened to that girl". here i am in philadelphia, a block off of fucking south street, living above a doctor's office, with a roomate and 4 crazy cats, one that is an alien... either that or he escaped from a chemical testing lab... I work with kids, teach preschool and theater and creative writing, afterschool- kid cabaret and kidprov... if kids sign up. and one did today! a girl whose mom said when i handed her a flier at open house "oh she'll never do that" well she called today and said "my daughter is begging, i have to let her try" yay!!!! of course you do!!! i know my kids and I know them well... kid cabaret is the answer, i swear... for certain kids it is just the thing and i have invented my own little secret form of therapy... haha... i am so scared of this semester and everything- i need money... i wish i had good enough credit and could have gotten that loan because now im so screwed and i don't want to drop to part time just to get a tiny reimbursement cuz then i lose my scholarship... poopy shit that's what it is. bleh. tomorrow i hafta pass out fliers for kidprov and fliers for DA, my mentor's show. lots to do- tonite is sex dwarf party, and it's not perverted, if that's how it sounds... i will maybe have fun? Alyssa and beth and i are going so far... we will see bye for now shanona ryder (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 24th, 2005
6:40 pm	little shoplifter Today we took our kids to the aquarium. First off, we had to sneak 7 children in because the center didn't account for 37 kids. That was a treat. so we are teaching the lying is ok. "now everyone with no wristband don't talk about it... and go in between the kids with the wrist bands. don't make eye contact with security." and we successful enter the building. i spend all day chasing them thru shark tunnels, yelling at them not to turn the starfish on their backs... i deal with a bloody nose issue in the gift shop... watch the hippos, sneak a coffee into at least 6 exhibits that say no food or drink... get yelled at in the lunchroom by a custodian for opening up a door that says "alarm will sound". The OTHER camp got to go thru the door. Why shouldn't we? Then the fun part of the day. This one 7 year old got caught shoplifting a whale keychain. she had it hid under her dress and later on we found out and made her take it back to the store and apologize. well, her mom informed me apparently she's done this before. But then im thinking, well, we stole from the aquarium this morning by sneaking 7 kids either. But that is our boss's fault... anyhow this 7 year old- she was adopted two years ago. don't tell me her real mother may be in prison too. i can't take any more children with their mom's in prison this summer. it's really sad. yes, i want to be a child psychologist one day, maybe... but not yet. hell, i dont even have my fucking god damned bachelor's degree yet even though i have 180 college credits. Anyhow- i'm excited- i asked this casting director i know for an audition, and he actually said "yes"- wow. scary. now i need a headshot and actually need to get my ass in gear and figure out what the hell is going on. the musical is called '50 west 50'. it's new- and the character i'd be auditioning for is a 22 year old songwriter from boston... haha- well my hair is blackish right now---- hmmm... im bored... joe's coming over to watch "weeds" episode 3. i watched it last nite... but what the hell... Shannon (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005
9:53 pm	hello, im back Good morning, shannon is back in town. i forgot I had this live journal thing until Alyssa reminded me. Alyssa is the girl that was supposed to be my new roommate, but good thing she isn't...and i don't mean that in a bad way. she responded to my great ad on craigslist, that if it were listed on a personals ad would have attracted my future wife. But it was a roommate ad, and alyssa was the first person i called back because she was the coolest person who responded. she wanted to live alone but liked the ad so decided to check it out anyways. then she didnt take the room... a few weeks later joe's ex b/f accidentally called me to woody's. when i got there, he didn't know why i showed up and told me he meant to call someone else, so he ditched me and i sat at the bar by myself... then i saw her out of the corner of my eye. she looked familiar... oh yeah, that was...'shannon' she says... "alyssa!" and then we met again. I'm so glad- I'd say more about what I'm thinking, but it's the internet, nobody is really reading... except maybe alyssa, and then i sound crazy... but what's new??? Just babysat for one of my lesbian mommies who went on a date with her adopted chinese child's "aunt",... they actually kissed in front of me.... awww. see? i have been WAITING for that from one of them... im sad they can't be open, that they don't let themselves be... what straight society doesn't seem to understand is, GAY PEOPLE WHO WANT CHILDREN REALLY WANT CHILDREN. How many straight parents do we see who don't want their kids, who end up mistreating them, abusing them, neglect... they weren't even planning for children, etc... but that isn't true for gay people- for them it is really a choice, and a difficult one. what is wrong with people sometimes anyhow? a lot. But we already knew that, now didn't we. like the asshole at monkeybar last week. my saturday entails: a 7 year old b-day party at 12, another 7 year old party at 2, playing 'god' for 1 minute over the mike in a gay man's cabaret show. don't you wish you were me? shanona ryder "so hush now, peace, hey- the babysitter's here... the best babysitter's here." -Dar Williams (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 7th, 2005
11:24 pm	Rear window, the musical REAR WINDOW, THE MUSICAL- BY ROB BLACKWELL, ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE. HE WROTE IT FOR TODD WADDINGTON, I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW. GENIOUS. DA IS THE FABULOUS GAY UNCLE I NEVER HAD- I LOVE HIM TO DEATH- I MET HIM AT TAVER ON CAMAC LAST NITE- AND HE JUST HAS THIS AURA ABOUT HIM... HE KNOWS SOMETHING WE DON'T KNOW, AND HE'S NOT GOING TO TELL US. STICK WITH HIM (I DO AND I WILL) AND ONE DAY YOU WILL GET THE STORY, WILL BE INVITED TO THE PARTY. I AM SO LUCKY TO HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY SOMEONE- AND AS I TOLD HIM LAST NITE- HE HAS TO HAVE FAITH IN ONE OF HIS STUDENTS- i KNOW HE'S LOOKING DOWN ON THINGS RIGHT NOW- BUT HE REALLY IS SO AMAZING AND I REALLY AM SO LUCKY I VISITED FRANKLIN AND HIS DAD TONIGHT- SO SWEET. SO CUTE. LAST NITE DOVI CALLED- IF IT WERENT FOR THESE KIDS I COULDN'T STAY AT OLD PINE, BUT THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE. THEY ARE ALSO A PART OF A FAMILY I NEVER HAD- ANYWAYS- MY ROOMMATE HAD TIVO NITE NITE SHANNON Current Mood: crazy (Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 1st, 2005
1:11 pm	long time no write ok my life has changed a lot since back then. I just got back from Kentucky, where I spent six days rolling in the grass. Okay, I didn't roll in the grass, but I did look at it a lot, which was nice. i performed my first 15 minutes of my cabaret show for my dad and he loved it, which was great! I also intentionally ran into my very first boyfriend. Last you heard of me I was with Andy, except he went back to England and never came back. Lord only knows why not, I am the most beautiful girl in America. Okay, not the most beautiful, but the oddest. How could you not love me? Justin, that is his name was not even scared of how much I had changed. It isn't that I changed, it's that I let myself out. I have always been me. Sometimes I am more me than others, due to certain circumstances... Illness, dead bodies in my room, etc. if you know me you know the stories. If you don't know me, you will know the stories when you read my book that will be made into a play and an indie film starring none other than the great and powerful parker posey. Let me take this time to honor Justin. He teaches music in Indiana to highschoolers. I teach musical theatre to kids preschool- 16 at the moment... I just don't get paid anything to do it. Saturday marks my first ever "Kid Cabaret" class. Isn't that genius? And in the fall I get to teach it at a professional theatre. Can you imagine Charlie fucking Gilbert's face when he sees that? I can't help wanting to prove myself to that man. I used to respect him until he saw nothing in me. now that I am more confident of a person I realize i don't need other people to see something in me in order to see myself... but it sure does help. Last week my kiddies performed my own deranged version of "annie and oz" - can u imagine? I had them sing 22 songs. It was fucking broadway kids at old pine community center. brilliant. :-) Joe and I are writing a play that might get picked up in ny. I cant announce it here in case someone steals it. everyone always steals my ideas. no more of that shit. ok? i hafta go now. But check back for some postings of this semesters writing. about one more year left, everyone. of school that is. and then i hafta keep going cuz i cant afford those loans. god help me. shannon did i mention I am an indigo adult? I am sure i am. I will explain that later since i know you dont know what that means. if you do- i am impressed. :-) love and hugs SHANSBY the great Current Mood: contemplative (Comment on this)
Sunday, November 14th, 2004
2:39 pm	Hey guys- i thought you'd like an update maybe... Last week I was attacked on the bus on the way to New york. Yes. Please send me your hugs. This week I have my cabaret show tonite- my class isn't the best, but we have fun. I am singing Somewhere that's Green and Teaching third Grade (from Ruthless)... nobody is coming I know so i should be fine. :-) Break a leg, Shannon... Ok. I will. Shannon Current Mood: creative (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 28th, 2004
10:22 am	Good morning.... I wanted to tell you about last nite... Cabaret class- I was having a tough time and what I thought was a bad nite, because for the first time in a long time I realized how important all of this is to me... After class, this actor/singer--- soooo fabulous- think Sutton Foster- but better... told me he loved and was inspired by my work and would i be interested in him writing me into his upcoming show in January? What!?! It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me before. A bad nite turned good. Especially when Dean and Al called me to meet them at McGillan's. Happy times... And Dean and I had fun bitching until 230 in the morning. I love Dean- he's the best. And Al is hilarious and great too- he breakdances and you'd have to see it to get what I am talking about. Cheers to the hope of turning it all around, Shannon Current Mood: busy Current Music: Comedy Central makes me laugh (Comment on this)
Saturday, October 23rd, 2004
5:00 pm	first saturday off in a year and a half!!! WORDS THAT MEAN SHANNON swirling eyes pinch drama Delta Scamda lose lost behind deteriorate beneath below I know go Y'all lego brick liberty bell edelweiss gain die dinner loan me thinner friend? Bailey's misty kiss laughing silly stupid girl raging human being abused locked bruised toaster ring bus stoli six effexor reflector bran flakes bones root green ****an exercise in personal memory---- fun stuff--- you guys should try this*** Snapshots 15805 Lime Grove Road Freshly scrubbed rosy cheeks dressed with smile, matching lady pink leg warmers atop bubble gum converse sneakers dancing on Bernie’s freshly cut grass. ******** The Wrong Bus Home Curvy street downhill, away from places known- hidden in green grass where he gave me peanut M&Ms to hush. I hid them under bed but always saw them there and him in my head and never saw the face. Eighth grade girls with gum and boys stare daggers at braided me in plaid, clutching Snoopy doggie lunch pail with half eaten smashed bologna and mustard. “Cut bread in fours instead of two today, mommy, I’m extra hungry”. ******** Home. Stuck behind sister’s bed tucked away from monster- he eats me if I move before 5. 5? I don’t know how to read the time. “Mommy, why does everything have to be so certain?” “Shannon, put your socks away.” Couldn’t reach top drawer so white dresser fell on me. ******** Alarm clocks forget to ring. Check it 10 times, 12 times. 8 o’clock pm set for, click, 6 am. 8 o’clock pm set for, click, 6 am. Parents snore and won’t wake me. I’ll miss Spelling and won’t get to spell the 15 challenge words correctly. Won’t get to be the best. Stay awake- listen to Grandfather clock for time, won’t miss Spelling. *********** Echinodermata 5th grade science Sick Shannon Mom said to sis I picked up a little weight. Splashed my gruesome self into pool. Too much of Grandma’s Strawberry Rhubarb pie. Laughs as I sink. Want to hit head on bottom. Want to prove something. Need to prove “sick”. ************** Wendy Sick. Giant Green Globs of thick mucus line sinus cavaties. To heal I stick vaporizer in front of face. Must be able to sing the song tomorrow so I can play Gala. I will heal faster with vaporizer in face. Gala Night. No voice. Dream role. Can’t go on. Play Indian instead in plush green velvet dress. Cry through Ugh- A- Wug number, still mouthing the words. No more trips to Neverland. ************ Toyland Orange County, California. Bitch after Bitch after Bitch after snobby stuck up Bitch. Roommate won’t go home for Thanksgiving. Mad at me cuz I spilled her orange juice and used toilet paper marked with blue M for MICHELLE. ************* The Last Piece of Mail. Do you want to go to school in New York? Do you want to be brainwashed and have your life taken away from you? Do you want to live with Heroine Dealers, Rapists, and mumu moustache women named Anna Louisa? Do you want to share a bathroom with a pot smoking rapist who wants to carve your name into his wooden chair? If so, audition (we accept everyone) for SCAMDA, otherwise known as the American Musical and Traumatic, I mean, Dramatic Academy. *********** Sue. She sneaks out the back door, says, “I have one room left”. I move in Hurricane. Into dead person’s room. Door banged in. Fermaldahide, dried bloody band-aids and vomit on wall, dirt soaked tub, frozen over popsicles in freezer. And at the bottom of the floor, soaking up the stench, my three month old black ballet shoes to match the black tights and leotard I wore when teach told me my identity and sold me my first set of Metabolift. ************** The First Day I left. Michael comes to new room. Not 73 H. Gives me ring for power. Says not to be surprised when he knocks on my door one day again. Surrounded by boxes and sweating with tears, I lug my green wheeled suitcase to Broadway. He shuts the door. Goodbye. I break the ring in Chicago. The guy on the plane is from Interlochen. I have to go back. *************** Thanksgiving Day Parade Gap XS sales rack black long sleeved tee, grey skirt once tight, now flowing, creating room for loss of me. Goodbye rotting room in someone else’s closet. No more cling cling sounds of Strawberry Slim Fast cans rushing towards bottom of make shift garbage pail. Pictures peeled off one by one, revealing true grains of someone else’s story. No more long awake nights with heart beating out of chest. Least not in this bed. Grey stoop awaits. Roach gone. Green suitcase. He sits on stoop unaffected by frozen behind or my failure to look back out of Super Shuttle window. Unwrap stale piece of Big Red. We move on. ****************** Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love. Is that Ben Franklin on top? Learn later is William Penn. First time for everything. New city, same place. New scars, over deepest sores. Avenue of the Arts, or lack thereof. Starting number- 98 pounds. I’m singer- with nobody and a normal roommate- not from Orange County, not from Squammish. She dances. I don’t eat. At 78 pounds I fall out for 3 days onto hallway floor, wake up, unharmed, unnoticed. Happy Thanksgiving. *************** Far From Skid Row....I Dream We’ll Go.... Somewhere That’s Green. Surprised to see me at first semester UARTS jury. Skin covered skeleton me. Dressed in plaid. Buns on head to cover balding scalp. Sing a song. “Anyone Can Whistle” Not me. But watch me try. ***************** That First Night Same city, new me. Dark hair, dark circles, new shape to same skin. Seems to fit perfectly with hers. Back stiff. Back safe. Stroke me gently. Arms pull me in. Safe, scared, sacred alone. **************** Just Me, You, and the Toaster Won’t let me leave. Hostage in my own home. Raging beast in her wanting to consume or shatter me. Arms spread against door, evil glare in eye, presses me towards futon couch. Bruises chest, pinches neck, toaster thrown at leg. Bits of crumbs fly and scatter across short, bland carpet. Stay strong enough not to pick myself up. Stay strong, don’t recognize the threat. Took me four years. ************** Seroquel Have I taken enough? To fulfill this spur of the moment obsessive sensation? 10, 15, 20 or so. Where are the rest of the samples? Fumble for them in dark drawer. Glasses on bed, can’t see. Pop them out of pouch into me. Crawl back into bed without concern. Ambulance. Men. Hospital. 10 hours out. Too serene to be scared. Poking, asking questions. Cannot stay awake. Slowly slowly slowly dying. Pulling at my toes. Can’t feel. Can and don’t want to. Tubes, needles, pins. No response. 10 days later, I live. ****************** Would You Like a Double Decker Bus Tour? Shit. Not another day at 12th and Market. New English guy will fire me for lack of tickets sold. Instantaneous capture of all negative thoughts. He makes me me. Night after night after night in his hotel room, I see life as it may have been. As it is. Soon I think I’m me. And it’s exactly where I want to stay. ***************** MORE WORDS THAT MEAN SHANNON!!! unecessary nervousness pain gain lost bones wicked insane Andy joy Michael loss live learn trying costs tubes drugs Effexor skin mind blowing cocktails gin vanilla Stoli carriage rides music sick solgege Mick London lambs stampede still quiet berries Clonapyn pill crying dry rape pine dimples darting downward sign bottom lacking ladder lick Jen gone mind sick Love you peoples. Aren't I the bestest memory person ever (Dayv!!!!) haha SHAN Current Mood: creative (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, October 22nd, 2004
6:06 pm	poem revised REVISION POEM ONE. TRAIN TO TRENTON Squishy Swedish Fish sink by black licorice bait. Death in stomach. Counting calories: Feast of side salad, 100. and Diet Coke (Vanilla Stoli, 100?) in train station "bar" not enough to sustain personal psychodynamic interview. Findings reveal ink blot is ink blot. Words so close, crunchedtogether yet lost in unwoven letters made into one. No texture, no impulse, no soul. Black runny clue atop inspiration to spell. See erasable ink blot before eye, inkblot covering news, smudging, concealing dew. Melts if warmer. But cold fingers play one sound, no song, many triads at once. Head rings tune- resonates praise. Brings to mouth salivating desire to druel on page. Mesh sound of dripping ink. Red sour cherry ball dives into last night's Watermelon Pucker. Splashes decaying fish in chewed up head. Bounce, bounce "Wake up, I want to play!" But fishy's already dead. Flown to Candyland Eternity. Left with skeletopn frame of an undigested flicker. Bummed ball bounces. Bounce factor low. Slips on thought, rolls. Rolls, Rolls, Rolls. "Rolling easier!!!" And fun to slide around liquid waste. Past particles of self gather to become a piece. But return joinedtowhole. Nice to rub shiny slick surface. Polished newness exciting. Color to same old self. Apple sour ring joins party, only half torn, falls down tract, circle still in tact. Intertube in bile river rests in sludge so cherry ball can relax. Ball doesn't want to relax if only to be supported by broken intertube. Ring wraps around ball, mending the break atop Swedish Fishie funeral. Ball, now sad. Captured in jelly arms. Couldn't stand alone. Ring, now sad, too. Ring and ball mourn loss of separation that made ring ring and ball ball. Fish, ball, ring now unidentifiable slurpy subjects who can no longer convince newcomers candy is candy. I throw away candy bag. I've lost myself by capture of broken ring. Can't be something when a part of everything. Can't clain "nothing" when something still exists. I carrie a fishie funeral, sunken ball and ripped ring. Swirling, singing, shrieking in core of me. Open my mouth and let them sing- Erase erasable ink. -Shannon Runion October, 2004 (Comment on this)
Sunday, October 17th, 2004
8:00 pm	I quit the Big bus yesterday... I Have My Own Cow. His Name is Rupert. He is All White With A BlackSpot on His Bu-utt. Emergen-C crusted across dollar store glass. Morning B-12 hit me when? Marlboro Box atop wood. Would he come December? Wrap myself in her blanket. Cover to hide stain we made. Breathe to feel time he came. Exhale thought I may have felt if me meant me, and Serotonin knew how to fire. Margarita Mojito breath for no one to smell. Sink steps away. London far. Pen near. Not much to say. Coats atop cart to launder- unveil this winter. Bus on fire. Lit it myself two years ago. Saw Tacey, the roommate- nothing left to pierce. Crusted Bran flakes four years ago- hand in bottle, no place to go. Crashed on floor, Thanksgiving day. The year before, left him to stay. I became me sometime ago. But the answers to that are nowhere I know. Life full of a cigarette break. First friend inspired to eat chocolate cake. Leigh, she said, I was better that day. No, I knew death so near. Scary but surely living through tears. I came back, I saw her- I saw she was me. Klonopin, Seroquel, Effexor and tea. English Vanilla, sweet yet so strong. Mojito, burrito. I sing through that song. Linda, she said, I’m too nervous. I’m fat. Pounds are not worth it. Life told me that. Look back and see the remote changing now. I’m 14. I’m sick. I have Rupert, the cow. All white with black on his ass, Alex. He screamed in front of the cast. I used to be someone he wanted to know. Now I dance behind the tree in the Wizard of Oz show. Hear me, please. I’ve so much to say. It’s not just a word, or a song, or a play. I’m something that sticks out, sore as a kitten, Gluten. Beer. Urban Outfitter’s mitten. Plaid. Mint. Andes. Mine. “Kitchen” full with dollar store cow. Decoration, Celebration! Radio on mute. Goodbye to job and the lady with fruit. All just a dream, a mystery, a joke. Nothing that can’t cure by Stoli and Coke. Diet, now, that I wish I were small. At least I don’t barf in the Florence Y’all. I’m proud to be me. I don’t care if you’re you. Don’t treat me like shit. Don’t smother my clue. Mom said I was special. I believed her, and now I know I can make it, someplace...somehow. Glass still stands. B-12 away. Cigarettes empty. Jen Gone. I stay. I sing some notes. I cry. He doesn’t know. He’ll see I have made blanket to cuddle. Match lit. Candle crafted Shannon pit. Current Mood: contemplative (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 14th, 2004
10:12 am	if my friends could see me now Guess what everyone? I got that job! The one I was supposed to get this summer... teaching theatre and creative writing and musical theatre and whatever else i invent to kids after school! kindergarden to 5th graders... now i have no time- i work at the big bus still, take full time school classes, and 2 tap lessons, voice, cabaret, and acting... how does she do it? I dont know.... haha... But this job will make me feel better about myself and is finally something in the wacky field i am inventing for myself : acting+singing+writing+psychology........ theatreology? creatreapy? theratheatrics? i dunno... something.... well, wish me luck folks. Shannon PS- my cabaret class is performing on Nov 14... teacher just called me to tell me i should sing "if my friends could see me now".... ha ha... He told me this morning something along the lines of, "i am fine" and "charlie gilbert shouldn't have assumed those kinds of things of you".... hehe. yay (2 Comments |Comment on this)