Five Busy Days: A Recap

Thursday I had a date to watch some “new queer porn,” so that’s what I did. There was also tea and chocolate and things in there.

Friday: I went to a party. Yes, that kind of party. I did terrible things to G. at his request. He can tell you about them if you like. I also did nice things like feed him cheese and salami and Halloween candy. And spicy nuts. No, that’s not a euphemism. All in all it was quiet but pleasant, and I am very grateful to G. for pushing his own recent limits on my behalf.

Saturday: Once the sun set, we handed out candy to our neighbors. We had a decent number of kids this year, which made me happy. Most memorable costume: the young boy dressed as Flava Flav.

Then we went to a party. Yes, that kind of party. Where we saw many people we know. Hi, people we know! It was a very nice party, even if we did have to skip the lube wrestling in deference to G.'s hamstring. To get to this party, we had to drive through Marin. We also got eyesful of the grown-up version of the night, which always evokes mixed feelings in me. Although the group of Wild Things on bikes, led by an exuberantly large female Max with loads of curly red hair, kind of made my night.

Sunday was a three-part extravaganza. We began, in the morning, with an excursion to Fruitvale’s Dia de los Muertos celebration, scaled down for this year due to budget cuts. Frankly, I like the scaled-down version. I go to see the altars and sometimes the dancers, eat a little food, and go home. And that’s what I did. We tried the beignets at the beignet place in Fruitvale Plaza, btw – G.’s first taste. I think they pass. And so transit-accessible! Beignet lovers on my list, take note.

Then, in the afternoon, was the last session of my hair class. Detailed notes later. Meanwhile, I need to buy a boar bristle brush.

From there, we drove down to San Jose to meet up with ktempest, G.’s cousin and thus, the ladies’ cousin as well. She was in town for World Fantasy. We went out to pizza along with Naamen, and I fed the babies on garlic bread and bits of meat from our meaty, meaty pizza. This was a lot of fun and totally worth the drive to San Jo, but boy did it make for a long day.

Also, I did feel a little bit like a slacker when I entered the Fairmont lobby and saw so many people I know there. Yes, I skipped WFC. I must not be a Serious Author Concerned About My Career, eh? Heh.

And then Monday: Dia de los Muertos, Mission style. Is it my imagination, or was the Burning Man quotient of the procession up significantly this year? I skipped last year b/c of the babies, but the year before still felt like at least a semi-solemn occasion. This year, not at all – it felt like just a big street party. A big, hipster-laden, beer-fueled street party, which is just so very not my scene. Also, April and Simone refused for the first time to stay in their stroller; we had to carry them and enlist slackerstalker to push the empty stroller through the crowds. We cut out early as usual and went to the park. We’d contributed to the Our Family Coalition altar this year – there was my grandmother’s picture and obituary, and a jar or her homemade preserves. Pomegranate. It seemed appropriate. Afterwards, we played on the swings in the dark. That was cool.

So, I don’t know if I will walk in the procession next year at all; I may just head to the park after the sun sets and stay until the crowds get too big to tolerate. We’ll see.

This is, of course, just the very abbreviated version of a very busy weekend. Enjoyable, but exhausting. I think I am going to do my best to do nothing for the rest of the week. Nothing except cook and hang out with my family and sleep...

(no subject)

Wonderful interview with fattest over here.

The part I want to especially remember (emphasis mine):

"I feel like the struggles we have as a community call upon us to do our own internal fat activism. We need to be deeply aware of all our beliefs and fears. We need to let it all come out and look at it, and decide what parts of ourselves we want to nurture and what parts we don't. It's got to be a conscious effort. If I'm harbouring fears and rejections of parts of myself, and not letting myself see or admit them, those are going to come out later in my behaviour. I must not hide from myself. This is part of fat activism for me – full acceptance of my body and my experience, and making very conscious decisions about how I want to treat myself. It's a constant process, and not easy. But without it I'd be dead, pure and simple. It's the constant questioning of both the external world and the internal world that has kept me from jumping ship on life. Society lies to us, and the internal critic – the bit of society that lives within us – lies to us too. We need to question all the external and internal messages we hear, open our hearts and decide for ourselves what is true."

Hair Class

I've been mentioning "hair class" off and on for a few weeks now. Some of you may have been wondering what the hell I was on about. No, I am not in training to become a hair stylist or anything like that. I've been attending a three-part workshop series on African American Hair Care for children through Our Family Coalition.

I'm not going to go into great detail about the content of the class for several reasons -- first of all, it was a confidential sort of class, and second of all, I don't want to either come across as a newly-minted expert or anything (ha ha ha!) or accidentally perpetuate any weird ideas about black hair care. OK? OK.

That said, I really appreciated OFC in particular offering this class b/c it provided a space where I could cope with my gender issues around learning hair care techniques of just about any sort. I could have my butch panic and then bond with, say, a well-meaning and equally clueless white gay father, or a butch-butch couple, relax and get over myself and pay attention to the details of what I really need to know.

The class was understandably geared toward kids who are a little older than April and Simone, and sometimes I felt a little awkward about that, but I got over that, too. It was definitely worth missing certain people's birthday parties and suchlike for, much as I hated to. I learned a lot. The instructors were generous and patient with their time and attention, and it was clear that they loved working with the kids. They knew how to put them at ease in an instant. OFC deserves big kudos for offering this workshop series.

And my final homework, as noted, is to buy a boar bristle brush. OK.