The chakra meditation series she utilized led her to start dancing (and even Miss Linda would tell you that she is not the most graceful of dancers, even though she studied ballet as a small child). Once she started dancing, she couldn’t stop. She called it “freestyle” dancing; some may call it “Ecstatic Dancing”…all she knew was that she lost herself in the music and the flow and really let her Freak Flag fly. As a doll, some of her movements were limited, but she did the best with what she had. She sometimes danced her way into a reverie, an altered state where everything was composed of music, and she was part of everything, and everything was part of her. She found it interesting that she could reach this state by the physical movement of dancing awkwardly to Depeche Mode and Tears for Fears in her bedroom. But there was something to it, and she now incorporated it into her daily routine.
Now that she had somewhat decent shoes (whereas before she had absolutely none), she thought it might be time to venture out into the world and mix things up a little bit, as she had definitely had her fill of digging DIRT on her hillside. She happened across the Los Angeles Guild of Puppetry’s event: Puppets, Donuts & Coffee at the Magic Castle. Miss Linda was sipping her afternoon coffee when she saw this event listing and nearly choked on her beverage; this event was created in a higher realm, and was calling her by name.
She scheduled an Access van pick-up, slid into her new Uggs and set off towards Hollywood the next Sunday morning, arriving breathlessly at the Magic Castle after engaging in a conversation about Drag Queen brunches, puppets, and which flavor donut was the very best of them all with a fellow Access passenger; they both concluded in unison that chocolate-chocolate-with-chocolate was the very best flavor of any and all donuts.
Miss Linda hopped out of the Access van, bid adieu to her new friend, and trudged up the hill toward the Magic Castle. She had been there a couple of times before as a human, but never as a doll. She hoped her attire (she only had one outfit that fit her) was acceptable for the dress code. She was suddenly greeted warmly be a seemingly gay man who sized her up and asked, “Are you here for Puppets & Donuts?” She smiled enthusiastically while nodding her head, and he ushered her in to what he called “The Inner Sanctum”.
She walked in slowly, taking things in…there were so many bookshelves filled with books, and lots of dark wood and red velvet and a bar that resembled the one in The Shining. There was also a small stage at the front of the room, but mostly people were milling about the individual cocktail tables with their donuts and coffee and talking animatedly; Miss Linda never knew puppeteers could be so loud, but they were a deafening bunch, albeit friendly.
There were hardly any puppets there (she had been hoping for puppets galore). She was hoping she might blend in more easily if there were lots of puppets surrounding her. There were puppeteers and puppet dancers and stage-tech people and benefactors, but only one puppet, and he was in obvious developmental stages at the moment (he didn’t have any eyes). As her own eyesight was bad, she felt for him. She silently laughed to herself when she realized he was made of felt, so she was feeling for felt, although she herself was currently made of rubber so maybe things came full circle regarding empathy.
One puppeteer showed her a photo of his puppet, and Miss Linda made the mistake of complimenting his “simplicity”. The puppeteer choked back a piece of his donut, and said he needed more coffee and quickly walked away. She later overheard one of the more advanced puppeteers compliment the same puppet photo, saying: “I really like him for his…simplicity.” The creator responded, “Oh, thank you! I quite agree!” Miss Linda rolled her eyes, and started to feel her Marijuana tincture kick in.
The meeting began to wind down, and Miss Linda inquired if she might be allowed to explore other parts of the Magic Castle. One of the women said, “Yes…if you go through that black curtain by the stage, you will be officially inside the Castle.” She gave Miss Linda a glance up and down: “I think what you’re wearing will be okay.” Miss Linda was not sure how to interpret that last statement, but she was happy to go through a secret black curtain on her own and leave these congenial (for the most part) puppeteers to their enthusiastic loudness.
Hopped-up on sugar from a chocolate donut with chocolate icing and multi-colored sprinkles and a coffee, Miss Linda lightly skipped down the hallway of the Magic Castle almost ending up in a broom closet, but was soon accosted by a large female security guard, who looked her up and down in more ways than one. Miss Linda stammered, “I’m with the Puppets & Donuts crowd…they said it would be okay to explore the Castle.”
“Yeah, those puppet people were wrong, Miss; you’re going to have to exit the Castle and stand in line and pay the entrance fee like everyone else.”
Miss Linda sighed, and said she would go back the way she came, and do what was required of her (she knew security guards yearned for respect above all else, having encountered one or two of them in her day). But the security guard suddenly said (playing into Miss Linda’s hand), “You know…you’re already halfway there, so you can just go to the front entrance from inside here and pay that way instead.”
“That’s so sweet of you, officer!” Miss Linda replied, batting her eyelashes at the woman. “I will go straight to the front entrance and pay right now!”
“Alright there, little Missie!” the guard said. “You have a good time at the Magic Castle!”
“Oh, I will!” Miss Linda said, thinking to herself: Pay?!
She scrambled quickly away and conveniently got lost in the brunch crowd, ending up sitting with a family that included six children, so she inconspicuously blended in while she ate Eggs Benedict, pan-roasted potatoes, and a side of vegetarian sausage, then slipped down to the haunted piano bar afterward. One little girl kept staring at her as she ate her breakfast and made her feel more than a little uncomfortable, so she was relieved for the excuse to have an early afternoon cocktail.
Getting situated on the bar stool wasn’t easy, but the puppeteer with the simply-styled puppet noticed her struggling and unexpectedly offered to help her up onto the red vinyl swivel stool. He apparently had followed the rules, and gone to the front of the Castle to pay in order to get back inside.
Miss Linda complimented herself in her own mind for her ingenious frugality, then ordered a $20.00 cocktail, entitled a Mystical Margarita (which, unfortunately was mostly crushed ice, but still delicious).
The simple puppeteer left to go wandering aimlessly about, and Miss Linda decided to stay and listen to the haunted piano play itself while screwing with people’s heads (its specialty…it possessed a wry sense of humor).
Miss Linda swung her legs from the bar stool and sipped her drink wistfully. The piano played Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”, and she was pretty sure that it was directed towards her. Several children poured into the room and started requesting really dumb children’s songs, and Miss Linda suggested they might want to tip the piano jar if they wanted the piano to play for them (she personally had no cash on her for tipping). The piano slammed on its keys, like it was angry, and then started playing one of the children’s requests. Miss Linda thought: even the piano is temperamental here!
She took a quick selfie in the parking lot while she waited for the Access van to take her back home to Rancho Tarzanadu…her refuge. She may have shoes now, but the outside world, even the Magic Castle, was nice to visit, but she wouldn’t want to live there. She looked forward to turning her disco ball light on, and dancing with wild abandon in her own bedroom, where she was free to be whatever it was she was.
At least for the time being, as the Republican party was trying to strip people of their rights and bodily freedom, especially in their own bedrooms, but that is just an FYI, on a long list of FYI’s going on in the background and spinning as the world turns and Miss Linda dances. She wondered if she could spiral-dance herself back into a person, in spite of all the global tragedy, and if that was what she actually wanted. She wondered if being a doll was just a convenient excuse to escape the outside world…a world of puppets and puppeteers, in a constant battle-dance amongst themselves.
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