Thursday, July 12, 2018

i've been watching

I've been watching episodes of Queer Eye--the original Queer Eye--from the very first season, aired on Bravo in 2003 (most of season one is on Youtube). Besides all of the cringe-worthy aughties' hair--razor cut highlights, anyone?--and Carson Kressley zingers (I used to have hair just like yours. But I also used to be named Louise and I lived in Germany)--besides all of this, the thing I've noticed most is how unbelievably fragile a lot of the makeover candidate dudes are.
What is it with this disconnection between fiction (men are big/tough/strong/pillars of emotionless steel) and reality: VJ/Lost Boy Steven Smith petulantly refusing to tuck his big boy shirt into his pants? The war veteran who couldn't find his own kitchen if the path was tattooed on one of his gym-wrought biceps.
I know I know, toxic masculinity, male fragility and all that.
I'm just tres tired of maintaining the fiction.
Dang-a-langs aside (and they should be), some guys are good at life, some aren't.
Some women are, a few aren't.
Most women though, I have to say, are ballers. Tough as tanned bark, accomplished, smart, and quick learners, and they look great and smell nice and do 75% of the housework.
Shout out to my girls.
Stay cool, everyone.

Saturday, July 7, 2018

where i find peace (new video!)

My new video highlights some of the beautiful things in my life.
Things I retreat to/gaze on/try on when I feel most stressed*.
(*not including chocolate or whiskey)
 Enjoi!

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Saturday, June 23, 2018

werk

I've been spending a lot of time doing drywall work lately. The only skills I have in this area, I learned from volunteer work with St. Bernard Project and Habitat for Humanity. It's a man's world, especially at the hardware store--snide comments, the assumption that the little lady doesn't know what she's doing, elaborate explanations of simple concepts--with the exception of Dunn Lumber, where a very nice woman helped me buy a bucket of joint compound and discussed mesh versus paper tape, without any implication that my vagina might hold me back.
That said, once I have all my supplies and tools ready to go (including this gem), I truly enjoy the work. Measuring, cutting, fitting, sanding, drilling, taping, mudding and eventually priming and painting.
You get sweaty and dirty.
Maybe a blister or two.
You can see your progress.
You curse your mistakes and then figure out how to fix them.
You give yourself one-on-one motivational speeches.
You finish, legs and back aching, take a step back, and see how far you've come.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

my inheritance

Thanks in part to my shrink I have been thinking about what my parents passed along to me.
In addition to the keen intellect and sparkling personality.
Anyway.
Last night I dreamt that I was packing for a trip and doing the whole dream-anxiety thing of running around a house with a dozen rooms, trying to find things, getting frustrated, and then my parents handed me a huge slithery stack of junk mail, scraps, old pictures, letters--a slippery mess that I couldn't fit into my bag and that I had no use for.
Dang.
The old subconscious is working overtime while I zzzzzz.

Monday, June 11, 2018

the joy before the Krach

New video alert!
I have a few things to say about "Blood Beneath the Skin," a biography by Andrew Wilson, about the wildly talented Alexander McQueen.
With a few comments about how fashion gave me life.

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