fingers, ugh.

Dana cut her right index finger. Sad! And it's her good hand, too! There was an accident with the meat slicer at work, and the first thing I asked when I got there to drive her to the walk in clinic was, "did you cut it off or just cut it? She assured me that it was just a flap. I won't lie, it's a pretty bad cut that required four stitches and a tetanus shot, but luckily her uninsured self is indeed insured by worker's compensation law. thank god. the doctor who stitched her up could have been queer, but there wasn't any hard evidence. thankfully everything was free, including the script for pain meds -- which means... We got free darvocet! Hah! Not that I would ever break the law and take someone else's prescription. *wink*

We went to see the local vaudeville/burlesque show Saturday night, which was pretty great. It was a little too zombie-centric and I'm really not into the living dead so I was disappointed by that. But there were lots of cute girls in bras and underwear and lots and lots of lesbians. woo! I should say, though, the drinks at this particular club are awful. If you're not getting a shot or a beer, don't even waste your money. Worst cosmopolitan I've ever had, with the exception of the one time the old man behind the bar though a cosmopolitan was vodka and grenadine. Nope! Try again.

There was even one who was about the size, shape and age of Crave and it made me miss her a little bit. I'm ever so fond of her girl-boyness. Crave and I are spirits that speaks the same language, sometimes we chance to meet in a forest clearing where the sun shines down and we share precious few words together. I don't think even we know why or by what means we are so drawn to each other. Strangers.

It was nice to have a date with Dana, to be out and about in public. In the morning I have sooo much homework to do, and I am not looking forward to it. Whoever decided that college should be so much work? Am I just a slacker? I mean. I only work 35 hours a week, but I still feel overwhelmed by all the homework. Blegh. Of course it is women's studies - notorious for tons and tons of mostly redundant, although very interesting, articles and books. We shall see.

Miss you all dearly! Love and kissies!

Female to Femme!

Altcinema presents

QUEER(Y)ING FEMME

Film screening - FtF: Female to Femme, with short film The Insomniacs
Lecture - "A Brief History of Femme" by FtF co-director, Kami Chisholm, Ph.D.
A benefit for Altcinema Productions

Saturday May 24, 2008
7:30 - 9:30 p.m.
Tickets: $12 advance, $15 -$100 at the door
San Francisco LGBT Community Center
1800 Market Street, San Francisco

Come out and support queer cinema!

Purchase tickets online at http://www.altcinema.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=51.

For more information or to volunteer, please contact info@altcinema.com or 415.863.2183.


About FtF: Female to Femme (directed by Kami Chisholm and Elizabeth Stark, Frameline Distribution, 48 min., 2006):

Imagine a world in which the journey toward femme was understood to be as radical as journeys to claim and inhabit other queer bodies. Envisioning more than it documents, FtF: FEMALE TO FEMME celebrates dyke femme identities, combining farce and seduction with analysis and personal history. For years, femmes have forged community and created space for themselves out of edgy performance and authentic parody. FtF recognizes these strategies and builds them into an unforgettable sexy, funny and moving film. FtF features a host of fabulous femmes, including actress/writer Guinivere Turner, novelist/activist Jewelle Gomez, poet Meliza Bañales, rock stars Leslie Mah (Tribe8) and Bitch (Bitch & Animal), professors, activists, artists and dancers. The filmmakers ask these thinkers and performers to use the language of gender transition to talk about femme identity, opening up new possibilities for understanding femininity while reinforcing connections among gender warriors around the
world. A wildly original extravaganza, FtF: FEMALE TO FEMME presents a saucy, indelible portrait of a people and a politics central to the gender revolution.

Plus, the new butch-femme romantic comedy, THE INSOMNIACS (directed by Kami Chisholm, 11 min., 2008):

Bell has insomnia. So one restless night, she decides to go to the local Insomniac's Anonymous 3 a.m. meeting, and there she meets Helena, the girl of her waking dreams.

About Dr. Kami Chisholm:

Kami Chisholm, founder of Altcinema, holds a Ph.D. in History of Consciousness from UC Santa Cruz and is a graduate of Loyola Marymount University's Film Production department. FtF: FEMALE TO FEMME, Chisholm's first (co-directed) feature documentary, premiered in June 2006 at Frameline30: The San Francisco International LGBT Festival. In 2007, Chisholm produced and co-edited the festival hit GODSPEED, a short about a trans bike messenger directed by Lynn Breedlove and Jen Gilomen. Chisholm is also the director of over 10 short films, including the recently completed romantic comedy, THE INSOMNIACS. Currently, Chisholm teaches feminist/queer/race theory, sexuality studies, and visual culture at California College of the Arts.

Purchase tickets online for QUEER(Y)ING FEMME at
http://www.altcinema.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=51

Christmas surprise

Today, I got a very special gift from a stranger. On my way back from the next town, where I spent the afternoon and night, I checked the mail. Inside the little mailbox was an envelop addressed to "Miss Avarice" - it's weird seeing that written down. Just as weird as it is when you people call me my real name, those of you who are privy to that information. (Don't stop calling me that, it grounds me).

Inside, a note, an autographed picture of a very handsome drag-man, and a pair of earrings. They are tiny shiny red origami cranes, and they survived the December mail craze splendidly. I will absolutely have to find some important excuse to wear them out.

I have two other boxes that I'm trying to get sent. One, I haven't closed up, the other has been stamped and wrapped for about a week, now. This is your last chance for a decemberween gift and card, most of which will be crafted by yours, truly. Email me your postal address, and a pen name for confidentiality, if you wish! Fucking Miss Avarice

stripped

I didn't think I was going to go through with it! I thoroughly expected myself to be lying home moping at 2 in the morning wishing that I'd been courageous. I skipped the flogger and cuffs, decided that might be overkill for this particular occasion. When I got out of work, I called my host to see if I should still attempt to make an appearance at the party. She said the party was still hopping, and sounded quite friendly (that was the first time we'd spoken by phone) and cheerful so that gave my bravery a kick start. I arrived and I was totally weirded out by all the strangers - I knew absolutely no one. [I was wearing my pinstripe pants and a black button-down shirt and my big pearls (not the little ones) so I was fully covered - the invitation promised that those not wearing a costume would be stripped upon arrival!] Tried to look around for her, tried to make a friend or something but nothing was working out, when a surly character appeared and said hey. I lifted the hat atop a smiling face and recognized Jenn - the first time I get to meet her face to face and she's cross dressing (in a tongue-in-cheek kinda way, it's a costume). Eye-liner mustache was starting to wear off but she smiled and grabbed me a Blue Moon from the fridge by which I was standing, said, "this is my sister!" pointing to a masqued figure, and then rushed off to care for some sickly guests out on the front lawn. I only spoke to her - and only briefly, a sentence or two - about 4 times for the hour and a half I was there. But that's okay. I found that smiling and having an open posture made it easy for people to approach me, or to be comfortable around me. The third time we bumped into each other I said...

"I am wearing a costume, you know."
"What? What kind of a costume is that?"
"Well... you promised me I'd be stripped at the door..."
"Ah, I see, well if your costume's under there, why don't you take off your clothes?"
"Come on, you know bottoms don't undress themselves!"
"Like this..."

She started to unfasten the buttons of my shirt, and called to a girl nearby, saying "come on over, we've got to strip this one!"

"You missed me at the door!" I said. They slipped the shirt off my shoulders revealing the black corset and all my pale skin and cleavage. The accomplice said, "Well, you can keep your undies on - are you wearing any?" I nodded yes. "Are you sure we can take off your pants?" How could I pass that one up? "I'll be terribly disappointed if you don't" I pouted. She said, "Ok Jenn I'm going to need your help on this one!" They unbuttoned, unclasped, unzipped my slacks and started pulling them down my thighs, uncovered the lacy band of thigh high fishnet stockings and the shiny black boy-short panties... down, down to my knees, down to my ankles, they struggled to get them over the heels of my shoes, but finally oh finally I was free! In the living room in front of a bunch of strangers. [Wow, am I a little bit of an attention whore? Yeah... guilty as charged] And that is how I spent the rest of the night. Corset, panties, stockings, heels. And so cleverly disguised by my "work clothes". I got what I wanted out of the evening, and said, wow, now that I'm in my real costume I need another beer. The second one tasted almost as good as the first.

Finally around 3:30 Jenn said she was headed for bed. No joke, I'd be exhausted, too. We hugged and I sent her off to bed and went to the car to come home.

Analysis: Jenn's sister called me amazing, she had encouraged me to take off my own clothes earlier, but that's not how I wanted it. I need to start claiming the word amazing for myself. I sit in it like a robe and it suits me. I am amazing. Also, I created Miss Avarice in hopes of recreating myself. Her adventures are looking increasingly similar to mine. I'm becoming Miss Avarice. Hah! Also, I'm still trying to figure out why I'm more comfortable with someone else taking my clothes off rather than me doing. I thought it had to do with bottoming, but now feel like it's a weakness that I need to overcome - that maybe I'm deficient if I can't take off my own clothes in front of someone else. I can. But I much much prefer to be undressed by someone else... weird.

drunk blog

i wanted to write while i was still slightly tipswy.

am still slightly tipsy. yey! tonight was "Lesbian Invasion of the Gay Dive Bar" night!

so. questions; comments.

1) why is it so fkn hard to type when you've only had a little bit to drink? I swear I am such a cheap drunk. One drink and I was buzzed, two drinks and I was sufficiently tipsy and three would have been overkill. Kay remembers what happened last time I had three drinks. Oh, no, that will not be happening again. Didn't pass out or puke, but she did lead me by the hand out of the now-defunct Suncoast resort.

I like that phrase. "now-defunct." the resort was actually on the very eve of going "defunct" that night.

2) butches. so why is it that I don't personally know any butches who are into femmes? I really don't get it, like. they just go at it with each other. of course. I'm not complaining that I get to watch. That is some hot shit, right there. I swear if there were butch porn, like real live butches fucking, you would never see me in the sunlight ever again! EVER.

Image: butch #1 sitting on the edge of the pool table. butch #2 kneeling on the table behind her, and the femme. me in a black tank and skirt, my new heels. tucked between those lovely butch thighs. ugh. and i do my uuuhh.

Image: butch #1 and #2 kissing; in the foreground, the femme is trying to get their attention, she leans over and puts her ass up to them and shows such tasty cleavage. whee! of course, it doesn't work, the two of them are too involved in smooching. I'll have to find the shot. figure out how to anonymise it.

3) awwwwwww. pooor sweet sad, drunk butches! you know. when I see butch tears, my instinct is to hold them and kiss them and stroke their faces and arms and love on them like nothing else matters. butch #1 had a bit too much to drink and spent the better part of an hour puking. now I'm no help at all with that, but afterwards she was sittin' on the floor with little tears just kinda leaking out her sweet sweet eyes. :( so i sat down on the floor with her and held her hand. When they took her out to the car, I stood next to the open window and stroked her arm and face and asked her if her tummy was better, and cooed sweet consolations to her. I wanted to tell her she was still strong, but i couldn't imagine it coming out the way i intended it. And she's not going to remember me in the morning, anyway.

4) Kay tried to give me hickies on my... arms? There's nothing there, and I'm so disappointed. I still don't even have any bruises from other her mfk'n fish tank! and at one point it was resting on MY LEG.

5) It was my first time at that particular dive bar, so I had a "virgin" shot with the drag queen, she remarked at how lively my breasts remained, lacking proper support equipment ;) She's the most precious, precious queen in all the land, and her first number featured a lovely, slinky seafoam gown with a rosy accents. She's like. Legendary. The Legendary Apple Love.

(and now, to proofread my drunken ramblings)