Crying out

The poem I posted recently has become a pretty big theme in my life. For my birthday in particular, I made some noise in order to receive the milk of loving. I enlisted five of my most trusted girlfriends to be my birthday love angels. I requested that they spend as much time as they had available on my birthday being with me so that I could feel loved and supported. I also enlisted another friend to be my designated driver that evening. I requested a foot massage from a friend and a back rub from another. And later that night, I asked someone for a birthday kiss, on the mouth with tongue and everything. I got everything I cried out for.

I’m 36

I feel great. I was at Mount Shasta for a lovely trip with my aunt earlier this week. I just did yoga and meditated. I am wearing my birthday necklace from my aunt and my new birthday dress from myself. My friend Kelly is about to come over to watch me open my birthday packages that came in the mail. Later today I am having people over for a potluck, and tonight I am going to an awesome party that I have been excited about for weeks. This is my year. I’m a Fire Dragon, according to Chinese astrology. Something great is about to happen, I can feel it. Let the celebrations begin.

The cruel Midwest

I have a friend who shaves his head, is really tall and wears long skirts and platform boots to work. I also have a friend who has dreads past his butt and wears elaborate hoop earrings. Aside from their eccentric appearance, what these two friends have in common is that they are, at least in my experience, very comfortable with who they are. This is in contrast to many other freaks I know who have a certain insecurity about their freakish nature, who feel like outcasts. It just so happens that both of these confident friends grew up in small Midwestern towns, and the other day I talked about this to another freak from Oklahoma. He explained to me that when you grow up in an environment that is very hostile to freakishness, you develop a certain shell to the point that you don’t care anymore. The hostility just rolls right off of you. Then, when you come to a place like San Francisco which embraces freaks, you tend to feel very comfortable, like, “Oh hey, finally. There is all these other me’s running around here.” And I was like, well, I’m a freak from a small (not Midwestern but German) town, so why didn’t this happen to me? How did I grow up to be a freak with so much insecurity?

And I have two possible theories for this:

1) I didn’t get enough hostility and didn’t feel quite lonely enough as a youngster to develop the shell my friend spoke of: I always had friends and I never went through a period of being completely shunned by everyone in town due to my appearance. So maybe I just didn’t grow up in a black-and-white enough world to really feel the contrast when moving to San Francisco.

2) I was actually rejected by the freaks in my town, not by the “normal” people: There was a period as a teenager when I started dressing in a more freakish way but it was in line with a trend that many other teenagers were also embracing. And I ended up not getting along and feeling very intimidated by many of the very kids that dressed like me and liked the same music as me. Also, I don’t know if that actually counts as being a freak or if I was simply trying to fit in with the cool kids.

So maybe what happened to me is that I wasn’t actually a real freak and as a result I have felt insecure around people I perceive as real freaks. Maybe by the time I became a real freak, i.e. embodied my very own brand of eccentric, which was during my year as an exchange student in 1993/4, I had developed too much insecurity and not enough chip-off-my-shoulder confidence to feel comfortable among my own.

It wasn’t until I entered the darker communities in the Bay Area about five years ago that I felt truly embraced by a subculture that felt like my own. And now this comfort is expanding outwards to other communities. I think the reason it has been such a difficult and serpentine journey for me is that I felt rejected by my own subculture in Germany and instead of dealing with it, I ran away to America. At first America seemed like heaven with its kneesock-wearing thrift store whores, but my internal conflict soon caught up with me. Am I really a freak? Do freaks really like me? Yes and yes, I think.

Thanks

Tuesday was Jeremy’s birthday, and I was present for all festivities. Kean was there for part of it as well. I had relatively pleasant interactions with both of them. At one point in the night I was talking to a friend about my disillusionment with relationships and my fear that I was never going to get it right after my recent disappointments. He said to me, “Well, you must be doing something right. You are here, and two of your exes are here. That points to a certain strength that not many people have.” Well, thank you.

My relationship to Christian Death

I remember seeing a Christian Death poster or flyer or shirt at one of my favorite thrift stores back in ca. 1992. It stood out to me because it had the word death in it. Or maybe it stood out to me because my friend Christian pointed it out to me. Or maybe I wanted to tell my friend Christian, “Hey, there is an intense-sounding artist that shares your first name.” I don’t remember. Yes, I thought the Christian part in the name Christian Death was a boy’s first name. I didn’t realize until much later that it referred to my very own native religion. Christian is a pretty common boy’s name in Germany. In fact, it’s a name I chose for myself around age 4 when I was fed up with my mom referring to me and my sister as “the girls”. I insisted that I was half boy, that my name was Christian and that my mom please refer to us as “the girl and the half-boy.” Later, between grades 7 and around 11 I had the above-mentioned friend named Christian. I had sort of a love-hate relationship with him. I trusted that he liked and respected me but sometimes I also found him insensitive and annoying. But I guess that’s what friendship is like, isn’t it? Sometimes your friends annoy you. Sometimes you annoy your friends. I think this is something I am still coming to terms with. I think in many cases I have avoided getting too close to people for fear of annoying them or them annoying me.
Back to Christian Death. I didn’t consciously listen to them until very recently. Last year I created a Facebook page that’s dedicated to the very first dance club I ever went to, Cartoon. And the other day somebody posted a link to a Christian Death song to the page. And it definitely sounded familiar. I decided to check out some Christian Death albums. And the album Only Theatre of Pain in particular spoke directly to my 15/16-year-old self. I am now convinced that I have heard some of the songs, such as Romeo’s Distress or Electra Descending in cool dark rooms in the early 90′s. I didn’t know at the time that it was Christian Death and while I probably appreciated the sound and mood of these songs, they didn’t violently grab me like some other music at the time did. So I never pursued a stronger connection to Christian Death.
Until last week. And now I have been asking various friends, who like or have liked the darker aesthetic, if they ever liked Christian Death. And most everyone has answered “Hell yeah.” One friend from Germany even asked me how I went for so long without getting into them. I really don’t know. I don’t even know if I have heard any of their stuff in recent years. Like, does Death Guild ever play Christian Death? Probably. I’ve just been oblivious to it for some reason.

Mutant gallery

A photographer did a cool photo project at Mutant Fest this year, involving a backdrop and the waiting for clouds. It makes me happy because I see so many of my beautiful friends in there.

Fun in the sun

When June rolled around this year, I started to wonder when I was going to have out-of-town experiences in the heat that showed me that it was summer. One thing about living in San Francisco is that you’re pretty oblivious to what season it is because the weather stays roughly the same year-round. But I had noticed over the last few years that the way I can really feel that it’s summer is by going on trips outside of the city where it’s really hot.

Well, I have now been exposed to plenty of sun, heat and mosquitoes. Waterfalls too. Starting in the middle of June, I have been to three long-weekend campouts every two weeks. First I went to the Katabatik Solstice campout in Stanislaus National Forest with my friend Liz and her chihuahua Bela. It’s the same event I went to with Kean and Jeremy last year, which made me proclaim that maybe I did like camping. I liked it this year too. My favorite part was meditating on a log overlooking a valley after waking up on Saturday morning. My second favorite part was going for a walk with Liz, Bela and the mushroom goddess.

Two weeks later, for the 4th of July weekend, I went to Priceless, the annual False Profit campout. I had been to it twice before, in 2006 and 2007. This time I rode up in an air-conditioned van with four other people, which was super amusing. As soon as we arrived I ran into my friend Banzai, and we set up camp next to each other. We went to yoga classes together on Saturday and Sunday morning, and in the afternoons we floated in the river. I also spent time with some darker friends of mine who had brought their own sound system and called it the Worthless Stage. I liked the music they played. I wasn’t feeling the music otherwise for the most part. I am discovering that I am really not into whomp-whomp music. The only time I really enjoyed dancing was when Kid Kameleon played some drumstep on Sunday night.

Finally, last weekend, I went to Mutant Fest for the third time. Even though I kept telling everyone that Mutant Fest and I don’t get along, I decided to give it another try. Both times I had gone before, something very inconvenient and expensive had happened to my car. In addition, last year Jeremy and I had fought a lot. But I don’t have a car anymore, and Jeremy and I are “just lovers” now and had learned a lot about each other, so I figured it might be okay. I rode up with three friends on Friday. Once again, the drive was super fun. I only brought one small bag because my plan was to rely on Jeremy’s camp for shelter and food. While we were on the way we all received text messages from various friends that Mutant Fest had been broken up by the cops and that everybody was being sent away. We kept driving towards Mt. Shasta. We ended up in a safe location near McCloud that night with about 50 other people. I slept in my friend Shadow’s tent without a mattress and only a thin blanket, and I was very cold. The next day we spent a lot of time at the waterfalls. That night a few different camps regrouped near Weed, about an hour from the original location, and I was finally reunited with Jeremy. I was no longer homeless! I ended up staying until Monday morning instead of Sunday, and I was really glad I did because I spent a big part of Sunday afternoon at the nearby creek, and it was beyond magical. Sunday night I spent a lot of time looking up at the sky of our tent with Jeremy, and, after we joined some friends, pointing out all the people I had crushes on. First thing Monday morning I got a ride in a Prius with two friends and made it home just in time for my first therapy appointment at the Integral Counseling Center, which is right by my house and part of my school.

What I loved the most about all of these camping trips was getting rides from and relying on friends. This is still something that’s new to me. I have always been so self-reliant and independent, always wanting to have maximum control over the where, when, what, who. It’s so refreshing to take risks and give up control. I wish I had done this a long time ago. I love my friends, and I love that the loss of my car has allowed me to connect more with friends. I feel like I am relating to people in a whole new way.

My favorite

I love emails that start out like this:

“I hate to ask a deep and personal question, but…”

Something about trust

Last weekend Jeremy and I went to a big underground Valentine’s party called Monsters of Love. I spent a good amount of time there dancing with a friend–let’s call her Kira. Kean and I had met her at our first Burning Man together. He had always had a crush on her. While Kira and I were dancing at this party she said to me, “I want to spend more time with you!” She had been saying this for years. I thought for a second and then I said to her, “You know what’s been standing in the way of a close friendship between you and I? I was with Kean, and I didn’t trust him.”

After a while Kira asked me, “Is it okay if I dance with Jeremy?” I said, “Yes. Him I trust.”

Good to know and also kind of sad for all involved.

Girl time

Now that I’m single again, my girlfriends are really stepping in to make my life special. First I reconnected with my friend Amanda who I had met at at Witch Camp years ago. I had always really admired her, and she was offering free 13 Moon Oracle readings a couple of weeks ago. I really liked how magical and filled with spirit I felt after being with her, so I booked a healing session with her for a couple of days later, and that was refreshing as well.

I am knitting some new gloves for Theorna. Through Theorna I made a new friend named Gwen, a transplant from Detroit. We went to a dark ambient show together last week where I heard some of the best music I had in a while.

Amelia came over last weekend to set up her sewing machine at my place. I now, over a year after my old one broke, finally have a working sewing machine at my house and can get crafty again. Amelia will probably come over to use it sometimes. I am planning on making simple corsets (no bones) out of T-shirts and altering some more old shirts.

I have been doing two photoshoots with Selene, one in the shop where she is working, which allowed us to bond as well. More photos coming soon.

I ran into Kelly on the street this week, and we went and had some pie, and then we went to her place and cried a little. She also introduced me to StereoMood, a site that will provide a playlist based on your mood. So far I have listened to the elegant and beautiful playlists.

Yesterday Talia’s +1 for the Edwardian Ball got sick, and I got to be her +1 instead. I got to dress up all fancy and mingle with fellow Edwardians for free.

And today I’m going to Sonoma County for a slumber party at a fancy cliffside hotel. My friend was going to go with her boyfriend, but they are going through a rough spot, so she invited me instead!

I’m excited to see what other girlfriend times are waiting around the corner.