Some nice things happening. I guess. On Friday I was in a really fantastic mood, even if I was a little bit un(der)slept. Friday was fun.
For many reasons, including mostly the fact that I got a package from Nancy Boy in San Francisco. I love it! They sent me some really nice sprays and creams and shampoos and they're all-natural and "Tested on boyfriends, not animals". Too cute. I am really into it b/c my apartment is newly clean, and now I have a nice clean space to be clean in my new clean bathroom with nice new clean products. Squeaky. Thank you, Nancy Boy!
Also really into the idea of having grooming products designed for use by Queer Bodies. Let's look at this for a second. This reminds me of a really cool interview I saw once with Wynne Greenwood and Fawn Kreiger about their collaborative project called ROOM. The interview was conducted by Lanka Tattersall, who I would later get to meet and be friends with when I moved to NYC. Lanka was the only NYC person I saw when I was in Berlin this summer, she came to see us perform at Chantal's House of Shame. Lanka was a beacon of hope that night, which had been very crazy, and it was so wonderful to see her smiling face. Also we used to babysit her cat, Video. Anyways.
In the interview, Wynne talks about making queer spaces, and how having a lesbian body requires you think about bodies in a certain way. Wynne says: "As a lesbian woman and a feminist, I'm required to project my body onto that of the mainstream images of women. Even for hair care products, it is hairspray for straight hair, not lesbian hair. So I have to be able to imagine that the woman in the ad is a lesbian in order to want to buy the product. I have to be able to abstract my body, and hers. To look at the tree and see a bush." And I am in no way equating a queer male body with a lesbian body, but I'm sort of tickled to have these Nancy Boy products designed for queer hair. And they smell really nice.
This morning I stumbled out of bed and opened the door to the bathroom really fast, slamming it into my forehead. I have a huge bump on my head. I look like a six year old.
And I am really sad about Brittany Murphy passing away. Of course I loved her movies.
In college there was a period in which I was singing a lot of ballads on the cello and the ukulele. I'm sort of getting back to those impulses, lately. I wrote a few songs on the ukulele, mostly for my country/goth band Bang Bang Indians, but also for solo songs. Many of them were just about my friend Chuck who had recently passed away. Pretty facile.
But one song I wrote and was really proud of and often performed, I guess it must have been some time in 2003/4, was "The Brittany Murphy Song". I wrote a song about how I felt just like Brittany Murphy after Ashton Kutcher dumped her and started seeing Demi Moore, and poor Brittany became romantically involved with Eminem. It was littered with references to her most famous films and though I do not consider myself a "song-writer" (I prefer medium, spiritualist, witch, lover) I was always really proud of that song and it's clever lyrics and poignant description of crushing heartbreak.
And even though I'm trying to get back into performing live music, I guess I can never sing that song again. And that also makes me sad. We now live in a world without Brittany Murphy.
Alternately: The world is looking for it's next Brittany Murphy. Thoughts? Maybe Brittany Murphy will only be dead if her spirit and memory die. Maybe she's in part of us. There's a tiny Tai in each of us, waiting to accept our curly hair.
Other thoughts from this weekend. Revenge versus Karma versus Romance. I feel at once the victim and the perpetrator, the perpetuator I guess. I wish I could control everyone else's thoughts. I have been noting to myself, recently, in my head, that if I were somehow able to go back in time, to start certain relationships all over again, revisit certain parts of my life, with my current Emotional Maturity, that I'd be able to do things "the right way". Like, I've grown so much and become so fucking 'real' or 'nonexistent' or whatever-- become so something that I would be able to succeed, do things the right way, avoid fucking up. It is a little disheartening to know that this isn't true, but the thing that keeps it from being true is not that I'm not emotionally mature enough to avoid the same mistakes. The sad part is that I am, actually, smart enough now to avoid making the same mistakes and that really sucks. Cause they're fun mistakes.
I woke up Sunday morning with sunlight reflecting off of the snow on the street and I swear all I saw was the word "SILVER" behind my eyelids. Wish I could find a nice .jpg of SILVER but it does not translate over the internet. Not the shine, the precious metal. The second best. The first loser. The Benvolio. The lucky. The thing that kills demons. Through the heart. I'll protect you.
Images from this weekend:
After trudging through the snow yesterday, I went to Zabar's to get expensive tea and dried cantaloupe and ate it in my room, dark, writing a new piece about psychic powers and dream violence and fucking.
I'm really getting into Miranda Sex Garden. Hello 2009 Winter obsession. Today is the Solstice, it's the shortest day of the year, and I think it's important to treat some things (such as LIGHT and DARKNESS) as sacred, holy, everyday magickal.