the flapper and the futuristic hooker on acid look

trashy.

last night was surreal.

i was at the goth club downtown surrounded by women, mirrors, and costumes, hanging out backstage for several hours. one woman, dressed in a sexy black slip and orange paper flower in her hair, sat on the floor with me and did my makeup, transporting me back to my youth. she darkened my eyes and added blue shimmer, giving me an exotic look. others were changing in and out of costumes around us, male and female drag costumes that incorporated some alternative materials. it was a trashy fashion show after all- our costumes needed to reflect an element of the recyclable.

c's skirt was comprised of silver coffee packets and magazine cut-outs sewn into an amazing tutu. my friend tara was dressed as a flapper. her dress had plastic spoons stitched along the front that flapped up and down as she walked. my outfit, as i've written about before, involved the use of blue, spray painted cosmetic wedges, glued to the mini skirt and bra by c, the producer and designer of the drag shows.

28, soon to be 29, i looked like a hooker on acid and never thought i would be doing what i was doing. sometimes it is positive to force yourself into a radically different situation for a night. the band stopped playing around 11 and all 17 models lined up backstage and did a secret cheer, waiting to walk in front of the crowd. tara and i went out together for our 30 seconds of stage time. the lights were bright and people's faces were covered with a haze. our routine was over fast and before i knew it i was taking off the high heels and the fishnets.

the part of the night that got to me (a little) was knowing that my ex decided not to model because i was going to be in the show, and not only that, boycotted the event completely, despite the fact that many of her friends were in the show. it disappoints me to face that she is that childish and more disappointing to see that i wasted energy on that relationship. even if we had stayed together, i imagine i would have been dealing with her childishness and mean streak and would we still be together? i shift my attention back to what is important: loving life.

i devoted ten minutes this morning to washing away the heavy makeup from last night's interesting venture into performance art. my cat must have been terrified to see me upon waking, eye liner and eye shadow smudged around each eye. i had stayed for some time after the show talking to friends and new people, and it was late by the time i was home, feeling too lazy to take off the makeup. i do not know if i will perform with the drag troupe ever again in my life, but the subject is up for discussion. i felt good dressing up and being in someone else's shoes for a short time on stage. as cheasy as it might sound, performing made me feel free and powerful and like i can get through some difficult experiences and emerge standing strong. it has this healing power that i cannot describe here. you have to experience it to believe it.

year 28 of life has been fucking hell, if you ask me, and i'm looking forward to kissing it goodbye on april 11th. but i did challenge myself to do more this year. i'll give you the full list: studying buddhism and positive thinking, nude art modelling, doing spoken word performance, the poetry book, the fashion show, being involved with numerous clubs, quitting smoking, and expanding my circle of friends. when i blew out the candles on my birthday cupcakes a year ago, i had wished for "an x-rated year." i so wanted my ex-girlfriend to want to be with me. i wanted passionate sex. i wanted to be lucky in love. even though i did not get what i wanted in romance, in a sense, i think i have received that x-rated wish, ending the year dancing on stage for a crowd dressed like a stripper and having the charcoal nude drawing of me, rendered by a local artist, as living proof of living more wildly.

daydreamer.

there is that song by the beatles. i'm a daydreamer. my mind is like a vivid movie screen continually rolling. if only i could copy what i see. sometimes it's comedic imagined scenes that have me cracking up, and other times it's sheer beauty that i get stuck on. like remembering that long kiss under the stars, the rose bud getting caught in the windshield of the car, or how it felt sitting on the dock at town lake with austin and lauren one summer with the full moon reflecting over the dark water. i often spend time imagining myself in relationships with a wide range of people and will concoct elaborate scenes in my head about these other married or single lives. i've begun to realize as i've gotten older that many people out there do not daydream, and i'm appalled. i suppose it's a prerequisite for writers and artists to have rich imaginations, and not everyone is wired as such.

it has been a beautiful saturday, minus the sxsw craziness cramping my style. i found out that n. had her son last night and r. had her daughter edie this past week. it's spring. tons of women are pregnant. i went for a long walk, onto a coffee house and worked on the poetry book, and am picking up indian food from the clay pit for dinner. i was going to see a friend's art show tonight but am feeling the need to stay in. light some candles and drink wine. read the book i never got the chance to read. downtime is in order. i wish i could take a week vacation to first do absolutely nothing, and to second, dive into painting and crafting.

i feel more excited about the poetry book being published. the content is complete. what i'm working on is the design and layout: choosing the right font, inserting the photographs into text, re-working the visual structure of poems. after much ado, i've decided that probably the best course of action is publishing through lulu dot com so that it will have an isbn number and be available on the interwebs. i'm considering placing a bulk order and selling the books at a release party, instead of having friends place individual orders that add on extra shipping and handling costs. the process feels frustrating at this point. i'm depending on a. to help me with preparing the word doc for lulu submission standards. there are a zillion little details that no one ever told me about publishing a book! lingo crosses over to terms like gutter size, perfect binding, font embedding, etc. i hope that this nightmare of a process is over with by the time my birthday rolls around in three weeks.

march 20th

for several days now my building has been surrounded by cars bumper to bumper. i almost chance getting hit every time i leave the garage. cars line block after block, and music is almost always blasting even when my windows are closed. think: screams and drums and metal and voices wailing. mischa was hiding under the bed covers when i came home. it's the masses of people crowding every corner that i'm feeling done and over with, and the weekend has only begun. today marks the first day of spring and it smells like spring time in the air. i think of freshly cut grass, flowers blooming, and drinking beer in the sunshine. i feel a lightness now that the winter season has ended. i'm going to gaybigaygay on sunday with elle and some friends, and on friday i'll be modeling in the "trashy fashion show" at elysium. it's glamorous and trashy and will draw a large crowd. my costume involves a black mini-skirt with a slit up one thigh, a sheer bra decorated in shiny, glued on materials, silver stockings, a pair of black high heeled wedges with straps around the ankles, and glittery make-up. i want to look hot so my ex girlfriend gets weak in the knees. :p down the road, i'm planning to rent a tux and perhaps perform a burlesque routine on stage with a friend also dressed in a tux. i'm shy but love attention at heart and have this dramatic, theatrical side that i tend to tone down in the public eye. as i've written before, performance has been healing for me. where has the time gone? i'm looking at the clock and it's almost 10. thank goodness for the weekend.

2009-2010 goals

*poetry book release (april/may)
*performance!: slam poetry and austin drag collective
*writing my novel
*teaching creative writing workshops
*painting again and having a full show
*having a website
*taking guitar lessons
*thinking positively, believing in myself more, exploring relationships and art, being open.....
*having fun

that about covers it for now.

march 14th.

already there is a long line of tourists at the coffee house ordering their coffees to go. it's the beginning of the sxsw invasion. this year the weather is miserable. cold, overcast, and raining off and on. back when i was a waitress i remember the nightmare that sxsw was. "the stills" left me a mountain of canadian coins as their tip and i had so many tables that i practically had to carry two trays. i'm usually crabby anyhow during the sxsw week. traffic worsens, lines are long, and picture thousands of tourists in the city who do not know where they are going. these people are one grand vacation while i have to work -another reason to feel bitter. this week i'd like to catch some free concerts, because there is plenty of wonderful free music to access, and attend gaybigaygay, an afternoon of queer bands on the east side. there will also be bands performing right below my balcony, which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. hours upon hours of death metal is not what i have in mind....

i'm getting my costume ready to partake in the trashy fashion show on march 27th. i'll be dressed in a mini-skirt with a bra decorated and spray painted, and shimmery tights and high heels! it's trashy. my friend T, i think, is performing as a flapper. we are going to have so much fun that night strutting our trashy outfits.

i feel like i have little of interest to report today. the deepest thoughts i think about the universe strangely have a hard time coming out into words, moving from brain waves to letters. mostly i've been contemplating my place in communities. simply because i like to date women automatically places me in this "queer community" and i'm not so certain how involved i want to be. i like to have friends in a wide range of circles. i think it's important not to become insular. people are people. what is it to be human? who are we beyond labels? how are we the same? how are we different? i told elle that i was having a "femme identity crisis" because i don't feel that comfortable taking on a label. i may be a "femme" one day and i may like to be someone else the next. who i am is continually shifting and evolving. it's hard to ever pin me down. we talked about how it is useful to have forums such as the femme mafia because it can create connections and dialogue that otherwise would not exist, but that she understands where i'm coming from. she identifies most as queer. i don't know if i even identify strongly with being queer. there is this part of me that resists labels at all. when we went out together one evening, i wore a tie.

have you heard about the high school student in indiana who is suing her high school because they will not allow her to wear a tux to her prom? indiana is obviously in the dark ages. the news story is here. i wish i had worn a tux to my prom instead of that stupid dress my mother wanted to place me in. that girl has every right to wear a suit and tie to her prom, and it's hot. one would think that those people would be more concerned about the girls wearing super trampy dresses.

when i was 16 in 1996, i agreed to go to the prom with this boy named patrick. we weren't dating, but he was interested in dating me, and i felt more comfortable about the situation because we were meeting a large group of couples for dinner before the prom. my mother chose my dress, a white, conservative-like dress, and had my hair professionally styled into a french twist at a salon, pinned with flowers and baby's breath. there was so much efing hairspray that it was more like a beehive, taking on a life of its own. patrick came to the house to get me- dressed in a black tux. he was tall, skinny, and had this very catholic roman nose and glasses. (he would later attend college in chicago and be hit by the mirror on a passing bus in the street because he was that clumsy). we had dinner with the other couples at an upscale cafe in austin that no longer exists. i'll never forget how he ordered onions and i had to suffer through onion breath for the rest of the night.

we packed into his friend's mother's minivan and drove to the hotel where the prom was held at. it made me want to puke seeing all of the lovey dovey couples, and i remember seriously being aware that i was completely and utterly gay and swimming in a sea of seemingly straight teenagers. my friend V looked hot in her tight dress. i felt the need to somehow act like i could be straight with patrick and shove aside these intense feelings. they were powerful, and i felt powerless over them. the rest of the night involved standing around watching other couples dance and posing for pictures. we had to sit through the award ceremony while the "king" and "queen" were crowned. it was like some twisted popularity contest. afterwards we all had dessert around 1 a.m. at kerbey lane cafe, and patrick took me home. the drive home when it was just the two of us is what i dreaded the most. i had a feeling he expected something from me, and i felt somehow guilty that i was not interested in "putting out." there was awkwardness when he insisted on walking me up to the front door to say goodnight. i remember him standing there, expectant, waiting for.. a kiss?..while i thanked him and shut the door behind and locked it. i went to my bedroom, practically tore off my dress, pulled out the pins from my beehive, and was oh so grateful that the prom night was over and done with forever. there was such a divide in my world then between what was expected of me and what i desired.

i'm still trying to get closest to living according to my heart. today i miss j and i miss e and i miss my old life when i was a paid writer for a living. it's hard not to rewind and reminisce.

i hate this.

welcome to my life:

wake at 6:30 a.m. and hit the snooze button several times
workout 20-30 minutes now or after work
shower & dress for the office
drive to el chilito for breakfast and coffee to go
drive 20 minutes to work
be at desk by 8:00
drink more coffee!
lunch from 12-1
leave work at 5:00
drive 30 minutes home in rush hour traffic
start cooking dinner
cleaning
3 hours to unwind/write/watch a movie/phone time/go to a coffee house
be in bed by 10:30

it is those 3 hours pencilled into the window of each day that i really live for. there is not enough time to daydream, to create, to simply be, and i want to take the hands on the clock and set them back. pretend it is 5 o'clock instead of 10:30. pretend that i can stay up as late as i want. these days feel like being on a race track. i came home from work this evening, took a hot shower, fixed a strong cocktail, and began cooking dinner in the kitchen. i boiled some penne noodles and while the water was bubbling, cut a large tomato, garlic, white onions, basil, and kohlrabi, added the veggies to a hot pan sizzling with olive oil, simmered them in a white wine reduction, and poured the pasta into it with buffalo mozzarella. a recipe from amber. being able to cook from scratch and use fresh vegetables and herbs from the co-op made me feel more connected to "life," less disconnected from what is important, such as wasting time in traffic and spending hours in front of a computer and being on this corporate time. cooking and plants and making art bring me back to who i am. in two months i will have someone to cook for in our new house. no more dinners for one. i love to cook and hate washing dishes. she loves to wash dishes and hates to cook. this could be a winning combination.

o.

through the most recent experience of femme-on-femme i've learned this: i tend to like girls who look more like boys, girls with sometimes shaved heads, cologne, boy's clothes to match, and a sensitive core. most of the world does not understand why a girl like me would go for a girl like my ex-girlfriend and like the many women i was with before her. soft butch, gender queer, whatever you want to call it. i have to be the tough one, warding off stares from those men in restaurants and video stores and bars when they see me with a girl like her.

Our lives
had been like two lines
running parallel on the map
for years, always missing
but almost touching at street
corners and drag shows
until this one night when
an earthquake shook the room.

Your blue eyes peering out
from under a baseball cap
gave me butterflies.

Coffee dates evolved into late
night phone conversations, words
scratched into notebooks while
I smoked forbidden cigarettes.

It was autumn:
we were driving through the
confetti of falling leaves not
knowing where we were headed
exactly, the headlights of your car
forming an arc of light through the
fog and trees and I whispered “stay”
and you stayed beside me:
my first true lover
my girlfriend
butch, femme or femme, butch
glittering rainbow sign
our names recorded on
an intricate map of women
connected to her and her and her.

Your touch was
aloe vera to burns.
Sex
an erotic dance
between hands
and sheets.

Kissing beneath a full moon
not knowing whether this
would last 3 months
or 3 years
I savored the
taste of
apricot
sweetness.

next....

i should write my next book about the people i've dated; it would be comedy, tragedy, and erotica rolled into one. this weekend, it became apparent that my 2-week romance is going to be that, and probably nothing more.

i want to be with someone who is crazy about me and with whom i can have hours of stimulating conversation. i know what i want and i know what i do not want. sometimes it's not a match. you're in different places. you have conflicting priorities.

sadly i still miss my ex-girlfriend. i miss: the wonderful conversations, her touch, her kindness, so much more. i curse the heavens for not letting me have it my way. now, onto the next chapter of life. there will be others.

i've given up cigarettes 99 percent of the time. this afternoon i had a few with a friend sitting out at a table on the patio in the march wind and sun. perfect weather for the kite festival downtown. i so enjoyed the american spirit cigarettes, relaxing into the carefree smoke clouds. almost everyone i've talked to has had a rough week, frought with frustrations and miscommunication.