One of Us

Before coming to this tiny New England town, I couldn't have guessed how welcoming and restorative it would be after more than a decade in major cities. As much as I can claim any geographic place of origin, it was rural and suburban Minnesota, which I experienced as oppressive and depressing. Cities provided the noise, distraction, and adrenaline I needed to feel safe and alive. But I still felt isolated, in love with something I was not a part of.

Friday night, after a screening of Rock-n-Roll High School, I helped lead a Ramones sing-a-long in a church-turned-theater, the pews filled with friends and assorted weirdos belting out "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker" at top volume. It was one moment of many over the last two years that have felt like my life come full-circle. You don't even know in how many ways.

I might grow restless here and find my way to broader horizons, but in a world where connection and community have been so hard to come by, I'm content for now to just soak up the love and wear a mullet wig at every opportunity.

Haiku for February 7, 2014

In a former church
I finally feel at home
Gabba gabba hey

Circa 2002, Chicago. Foreshadowing.

Finding My Root

Last summer, in wishing Prince a happy birthday via haiku, I credited Purple Rain with helping form some of my early perceptions of masculinity. I watched it last night after not having seen it for many years, this time looking for clues about myself via the movie's portrayal of gender and sexuality. I made the following observations:

This is what I think a grown man's bedroom looks like.

This is how I think men who love women dress.

And this is how I think they dance.

This is what I think flirting is.

Also this.

And this is the most romantic five minutes in cinema history.

Haiku for a Tiny, Purple Role Model

He's not a woman,

Not a man. He is something

You won't understand.

Till a' the seas gang dry

I am so in love with this plant right now.

O my Luve's like a Schlumbergera.

I bought it at the grocery store for, I don't know, a dollar, last winter. I was living in a friend's attic, waiting to learn the fate of my 10-year relationship. (Negatory on the outcome, for those keeping score at home.)

It has moved with me twice. I haven't re-potted it. I have watered it sporadically and apologetically. The wind knocked it over a bunch before I weighed it down with a mug. I've never seen it flower before.

And this month it has begun to bloom its little heart out.

Haiku for My Heartbreak and Resiliency

My life is just like

[Insert clever simile

About this cactus].

The sincerest form of flattery

So last Thursday night a dear friend shows up to the Halloween show looking pretty damn stylish. Plaid shirt, argyle sweater vest, bow tie, black cap. I'm not about to ask, "What are you dressed as?" because I want to figure it out. I do almost say, "Hey man, you look extra fly tonight," but I'm shy sometimes.

A short while later, this friend wordlessly hands me a slip of paper that reads:

My jaw crashes through the floor and into the basement.

I then have several more costume details pointed out to me, like a plaid fanny pack, the patchy "future haircut" I got a couple months ago, and my wrist tattoos, which my friend has duplicated expertly with a sharpie.

Also, eight more little slips of paper with a haiku on each.

I was really touched, and I maybe it's because I'm self-obsessed and vain. And maybe it's because I felt loved, and seen, and appreciated. If I have done anything to deserve such honor and beauty in my life, I hope I keep on doing it.

I love rock-n-roll. And Halloween.

See my previous post wherein I bemoan the struggles we underwent in coming up with the Ultimate Cover Band for Halloween. See below for how entirely we nailed it. 

If you're in my town tonight, I fully expect to see you at the show.

Haiku for My Halloween Cover Band

Do you wanna touch?

Do you wanna touch me there?

Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

(Not pictured: my band mate, also Joan Jett.)

Homo in Noho, or, On Second Thought, Let's Not Do the Time Warp Again

Despite protests that it is a horrible place and wry laughter in response to my invitations to join me, I went to a certain gay bar in a certain New England college town last night for a Halloween party. There were no fewer than three unicorns, two Catwomen, six Power Puff Girls, and two Rockys from RHPS.

My favorite costume was Carrie White as interpreted by a cute guy wearing just a pair of trunks, a tiara, a corsage, and head-to-toe fake blood. He was accompanied by a woman dressed in black carrying a Bible and a knife. They didn't win anything. Pfff.

The cop who pulled me over on my way home for having a tail light out sounded incredulous that I would drive 45 minutes each way to attend such an event. I wanted to tell him, "I'm from the Midwest. I've gone farther for much less."

Haiku for a Small-Town Gay Bar

Flannel shirts and beards
Back it up and drop it down
Massachusetts queers

O My Sharp, Trifoliate Heart

Sure, I could have arranged the following lines into a more traditional haiku, but this is the way the phrase sprung, fully formed, into my head yesterday as I walked past this tree, on my block, under foggy, gray skies. Only later did I realize it was 17 syllables long.

I never claimed to be a purist.

Haiku for October 7, 2013

F*cking neon pink-
orange maple tree, you are
what my soul looks like!

Fig. 1

Fig. 2

Vampire Practice*

Tribute bands are one of my favorite things in this world. I was in one, once, as a long-term project. Get me drunk, and I'll tell you about it.

I also love a good cover (and a good cover music radio show).

So why is it so difficult to come up with the ultimate cover band for the Future Collective Halloween Cover Band Show?

Well, I could explain why, but instead I'll just leave you with this haiku and this classic music video from 1979.

Haiku Cover

The times are tough now
Come on in and cover me
Just getting tougher

*The other night, when I told my roommate and her friend I was having "band practice" at the house later, they both heard "vampires" instead. Seems about right.

Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility.

Almost a couple weeks ago, someone gave me (as in, "Hey what's this thing I just picked up off the ground? Here ya go!") a green, spiky orb on a short, thick stem. It was sharp enough to cause a delightfully tingly-ouchie sensation when I held it in my hand (after I had twirled the thing til the stem fell off).

I left this magical alien plant life on the dash of my car (like ya do), and over the course of several days, it dried and split open, revealing a shiny, dark brown nutshell with a light brown spot.

And it seems like a theme of this blog, and of my life (I guess there's some overlap there): transformation, a very solid, beautiful thing hidden inside a bizarre, prickly thing, which is also beautiful and thrilling. And sure, I could have researched any and discovered that it was a (SPOILER ALERT!) horse chestnut, but why take away the mystery?

Haiku for What the Last Two Weeks Gave Me

Do I like it more
When it's new, strange, and pointy
Or smooth, dark, and hard?

DEEZ NUTZ LOL

All in a day's werk.

Yesterday I was running a booth for Homo Promo at Future Fest. My job was to get carnival attendees to write suggestions for a monthly "random act of queerness." To further this aim, I decided I would need an outrageous outfit. (Slash I will take any opportunity to wear suspenders with no pants.)

So I was checking out my costume in my roommate's full-length mirror when my landlord knocked on the door. I bolted upstairs and grabbed my bathrobe, then came running back down to let him in. He was there to fix a door that was backward on its hinges or some shit.

While he was doing that, I went back up to put on more clothes, then I left for the tabling gig. As I was driving across town to pick up a banner, I realized what I must have looked like as I answered the door.

Haiku for My Random Act of Queerness

Bathrobe and bow tie.
No wonder he looked confused.
Poor Mr. Landlord.

I am not really comfortable showing the Internet the front of this outfit.

I'm too busy for this blog.

Today's haiku brought to you by Right Said Fred because I still have a lot of packing to do.

You know what I mean
I'm too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts

Do these bikini models with cameras make me look straight?

Ye Olde Summere Jobbe

Haiku for Inaccurate Depictions of Medieval Europe

I don't like to judge
But your accent angers me,
Bad ren faire actor

Huzzah.

Take the drag queens bowling

This post is mostly just an excuse to show off this photo I took at the drag show/karaoke/bowling party last night.

Ta-da!

Also it is sad and confusing to witness and be complicit in misogyny toward drag queens.

Haiku for April 23, 2013

It would feel too weird
To tip them, were they women.
It still kind of does.

Fish sticks and lady fingers

Last night I attended a performance of the Fully Functional Cabaret on the campus of Smith College. Tonight's the last stop on their tour, otherwise I would tell you to go see it. Fingers crossed they will be able to tour the rest of the country with it.

When in doubt wear goggles

Last night I played a set as part of Deep Frost Slow Thaw, one of five bands in the show whose members were randomly assigned. My friends all said we sounded great, and those who are not necessarily my friends said we looked great. (Our uniform was short shorts and swim goggles.) And we sold five copies of our tape, which is really just recordings of our practices on one of those old rectangular cassette recorders with a built-in microphone. It's so lo-fi it's not even fi. It's like sub-fi.

Happy. Birthday.

Last night I celebrated my friend's birthday at her apartment with pizza, costume changes, and booty beats. She asked everyone in attendance to make a list of 31 (her age) things that make us happy. I thought it was going to be really hard; it sounded like so many things. But I was actually the first one to finish my list. Does that mean I'm happy?

Haiku for March 22, 2013
(for J.D.)

Hard cider. Dildos.
Naughty naps. Hot baths. The moon.
Cassette tapes. Haircuts.

Facts of life

Today is my maternal grandmother's birthday. She would be 80-something today, I guess. She's been gone for a few years.

This is her and me a long time ago.

3.13.13

Yesterday I got an unrecognizable tattoo and an unpopular haircut. I'm fairly pleased with both.

Haiku for March 13, 2013

Pinball inked on wrist
I have three dollars left now
"What's your tattoo of?"