1/5/14

NY QUEER PERFORMANCE ART GAME SHERRY FRASER

I suppose I'm a little sorry for the tone of that last post. I meant to post more in to show that I'm not sore or sad but then I thought, you know, let's be honest. I feel a lot better now, though. For a bunch of reasons I'll get into later.

Have a bunch of thoughts this morning and trying to get them all down:

- I want a koi pond. If not one of my own, then I want to go to one. I love them.




- Sometimes I feel sad about aging, about my face changing. But one nice thing about aging, I guess (to the extent that I'm aging) is that I think it'll make me less attractive to pedophiles. Or, if we're uncomfortable leveling that label to gay guys who like to fuck kids, use your own name. I've been tormented by these creeps for most of my gay life, even before. We're told that this is normal, right. That this is what the Ancient Greeks did. The Ancient Greeks kept many different kind of slaves for sex and labor and torture, young gay men were just one kind. Last night someone told me I looked fabulous, which was nice, and then told me about a friend of ours (who is our age, nearly or older than 30) who's been sexting with a 19 year-old college student at our alma matter. I was like Why? Why bother? Why would you want to be sexting with a 19 year old? I guess having sex with someone with a smaller or tighter body is cool if that's what you're into, but the endless sexting? Who has time for it. Yes, see my crows feet. See my chipped teeth. My age spots. See the subtle knuckle-wrinkles. See, when you cut me, my multitude of finely-drawn rings. So many! I'm too told for this shit.

- I was talking with an artist friend whose work I really like yesterday about this thing of being our age, our generation. I am from a kind of lost generation. A generation that SHOULD be lost. A losing generation. I'm just about the age Amy Winehouse would have been. I wanted to know everybody and myself among them and I did, I found a lot of awful shit out about myself and a lot of awful shit out about everyone else, too. The things that matter, the things we all have in common: they're not all good things. The things that keep us together, the little niceties, the politesse-- these are not the things that matter.



- So I had this dream when I was in California. In the dream I was pregnant. I wasn't showing yet, but I knew I was pregnant. I lived in a bad neighborhood. It was basically the Oakland neighborhood where I had been hanging out. In the dream, there were teenage boys playing that Knockout Game outside my house, and I was worried that they'd attack me and kill my baby. So I thought: I can't tell anyone that I'm pregnant, because then they'll kill the baby. But also: I can't not tell anyone I'm pregnant either, because I am, and I need to protect the baby. In the dream I was very tense because I didn't know a good place to give birth, and I didn't think people would believe me that I'm pregnant. After doing some thinking and some talking with my Analyst, I'm pretty comfortable with the classic reading of a pregnancy dream: that there's some kind of unfulfilled desire or creative potential being protected or buried or not acknowledged. That SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT. I need to find a place to give birth. I need to admit to myself that as much as I would like to be nothing. As much as I profess to be nothing (and I mean it), I might not be. In order to save my own life I need to actually get down with the idea that I'm not nothing, that I have something. Maybe. Somewhere. To contribute.

- Listening to Mecca Normal all morning. I'm going to the studio later to work on my show. I'm tempted to not bring my computer, but I guess I ought to, since it'll be easier to work that way.

- What else. I bought myself some cologne. CdG 888. The shopgirl gave me a bunch of candy with it:



I gave the candy to my friend because he was home sick and I've had enough chocolate. 888 smells like gold, the idea is "if gold had a smell". I used to not like the way it smells. I thought it was too feminine or too 80s or something (even though it's from 2007). Something was weird about it. But then a few years ago I went to a dinner party/cabaret performance at Bradley and Coco's house, and he was wearing it and being a hostess and I thought it smelled good. And so I wanted something warm for the winter. My look for this winter (/ the fall) has been black and blue. Maybe you've noticed. My look for the Summer is gonna be Snakes, I think. Snakes for the Summer.



I know that's not a very Summer-y song, but that look, I think, is what I want to go for. I want to buy these expensive MMM shoes that are on sale for (relatively) cheap, but I keep thinking: "What if I used the money from one big purchase to buy so many other small things I actually need?" OH-- the other thing about the Snakes for Summer look is traveling, going on vacation. If I do that (which I probably won't), it'll be Snakes on a Plane. I need new slippers. I want to wear nice new comfortable slippers and sit next to a coy pond. Draped in snakes. This Summer!

- Oh gosh, Summer. It seems so far away. Could not be further away. But it's getting closer. I had some pretty nice news yesterday about this summer. Something exciting is gonna happen. Sometimes it's so nice to have something to look forward to. Some nice plans. I can't get into it yet, but sometimes nice things happen and you have to be like, not like "I DESERVE THIS!" but sort of like "I deserve to let myself be happy about this nice thing that happened." So I'm doing that, a little bit.

- Still can't stop with the Snakes for Summer thing.



The first Two Ton Boa EP is kind of my favorite thing but I love everything Sherry Fraser's ever done. I remember in high school I found on GEMM a copy of their demo cd (which was Sherry playing with Rachel Carns and Radio Sloan) and it blew my mind. That song, "Two Ton Boa", is so pretty. I really identify with Sherry Fraser. With, like, the narrative that she's talked about in how she makes work in and out of her life. I want to be like-- okay this sounds snobby. Sometimes, rarely but sometimes, I've had the conversation with people about "How famous would you one day like to be." I don't bring it up, usually other people do because they are saying that they want to win an Oscar, to be on MTV, whatever. And I usually don't know how famous I want to be. I want to be as famous as Sherry Fraser. Like, if Olympia music was the Queer Performance Art scene, I want to be (comparably) as obliquely genius and prescient as Sherry Fraser. Two Ton Boa typified a really weird strain of West Coast feminist art and music for me, in the early aughts. Bands like The Need, Veronica Lipgloss, Subtonix, Glass Candy (at first), Erase Errata, Mocket, whatever. They all kind of had this weird goth, nervous thing. It was before steampunk or electroclash or any specific nostalgia. It was this weird dark thing. And Two Ton Boa, I always felt, seemed like they kind of got it right, better, deeper and earlier? I don't know. Just geeking out, I guess. I wore your love like a two ton diamond boa.

No comments: