Badger bag - messy, surly, full of books

"She has been called, and rightly so, the Boswell of the Octopus."
Dastardly Dan needs help, he is back from the "big house" and if you can spare a little cash for him give it to me and I will pass it on.

Saturday, February 28, 2004

the real luck

But the real luck was the fabulous rest of the evening. Doxie's party had me slightly unnerved because I knew a lot of people from bl@ck le@ther w1ngs would be there and I have not seen them for almost 10 years and now from being Doxie's girltoy hot young thang femmy top lesbo (though at the time I ended up having a boyfriend and living with him too), I show up with husband in tow, smelling of the suburbs. Admittedly, cute, somewhat ambiguously gendered, coolest in the universe husband, but ... just a couple of awkward moments as I get enthusiastic hug and pat on my leather-clad ass from some girlie and then pop! at my elbow looms a large smiling man looking like my outfit accessory and wanting introductions. heh heh heh.

But that was not my main problem. the main problem was that goof-ass article i wrote about being branded that freaked out Fecker and Calla. Now. Yes I said some mean spirited things but the article was playful, funny, and made fun of myself way more than anyone else. I made fun of Calla's accent and how she took a zillion yearrs to prepare herself to appear topless for the camera but I also talked about how I liked her and how she was nice. I made fun of Fecker and his 2 friends for taking even longer to fuss with their sarongs so they could look appropriately tribal for the camera but I also talked about how I saw him as an interesting role model and the odd tensions between the cool stuff and the suburban reality of his life. Then I made fun of myself quite a lot. And made fun of all the smudging with sage fake indianness. And I think I said some separate things that were my doubts about the body mod scene and dis-privileging oneself and making a subculture but where some things were reversible or hidable so that you could go get a good job, but what was considered much cooler was to do something non-hideable in the style of teardrop prison tattoos so that you were guaranteed to remain in the underground economy or work in record stores forever.

But here is the deal. It went into a zine that what, had maybe 100 or 200 copies at most and I figured no one involved would ever see it. (And I don't know if they did see it.) And my dear friend who is a genius writer but sometimes irritating framed the article in a different tone than I meant it so that from the headline and the things in sidebars it seemed like a direct attack on Fecker. More virulently than I had intended at all. And then right afterwards there was this giant horrible incident in S@nta Barbara where some people in our community got arrested and Dregon went to jail and it was pretty terrible. So I think Fecker and Calla were freaking that if Minnie and I hated them we could mess up their lives very severely just by calling the cops on them.

well that was a complicated explanation. But When I say that Fecker and Calla were pissed at me and I didn't feel welcome in the community anymore, that's why! And I think that anyone associated strongly with them heard something about it, from their point of view, and probably without reading the article, so that gossip was likely "Badger wrote a horrible hateful thing and published it and she is totally insincere." Ugh. As if then I would go off and write an exposé of the summer gatherings in the woods. I do really respect so many of the people and had very nice relations with them. I called Feckerr and Calla some years ago and made long detailed apologies which were accepted but they didn't want me coming to their house or anything and I can understand that...

And indeed I did feel some awkwardness last night.

BUT on the whole, my teflon soul was able to shed that awkwardness very quickly.

And I had a great time! And everyone was lovely and sleazy and wearing antique rabbit fur coats and beaded dresses and leather and hats with veils and the old-school butches in their chaps were rather darling showing off their new hormone muscles as many of them seem to be in some stage of FTM transition or intersexualness. And Doxie was lovely. And Rook was my cute boy toy. And I felt that I missed everyone and was welcome back. And my outfit was admired and I was not the youngest one and there was much flirting and grabbing and sleazing. The birthday cake had a giant very artistic picture in icing of Doxie with cane marks on her bare ass. I had fun talking with some of the 70s s3x radicals who work on a history project and archive. Dr. Bother, fellow sullier of lesbian purity, mom of toddler and SF nerd, showed up and so Rook had someone to talk with and did not shadow me uncomfortably the whole party. She and I then got a box of gloves and shyly plotted our assault on the helpless tied up and beaten Doxie but then it was time for cake and time to untie her so, alas, we did.

I especially admired the amazing scientific and technical skillz of Saro. Her glasses slip down and she looks like a mad scientist as she taps away with her evil homemade tools and oddly she also looks like a small shy brown shorebird. anyway she is cool on all levels and never boring. I believe she plays a mean game of scrabble, as does Doxie.

I do get mildly uncomfortable or uptight at these things when I realize that while people are good hearted and competent, they are less competent or responsible than you would expect sometimes because half of them are stoned out of their minds or something. I am okay with being stoned out of one's mind but someone has to be a sort of designated driver and be aware that for example, the front door out onto mission street is locked, which almost every time I looked, it was not. dorks. And if I were bottomming, (rare anyway, top on the streets, bottom between the sheets as they say) I would not trust someone stoned or on X to top me and know what they are doing and be aware of what's going on with me, much less to do anything really extreme. Anyway! A minor quibble compared to all the excellent wonderfulness of all those people and the party and Doxie herself.

And how did I get so lucky as to have a fabulous husband, live here where I wanted to live, have a nice kid, and he does not mind when I am all up in the coochie of my 60 year old ex girlfriend or making out with random half naked women in tallulah bankhead hats and fur coats? not only does not mind but beams upon it benevolently? what a fairy tale.

posted by badgerbag 2/28/2004 08:38:00 AM comment

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Ranting, complaining, speculating, confessing from Badgerbag in an extended Crossing the Line ceremony.