I left the broom at the coffeehouse. I only paid a dollar for it, so it wasn’t really worth wading through the crowd to collect it.
I spent a day out, which was actually good, and planned to meet someone at a Trans Open Mic that was happening tonight.
TBB was encouraging me to perform something there, something unscripted and as potent as when we went on stage as The Drama Queens (We have no act! We have no talent! We are… The Drama Queens!)
I wasn’t so sure.
TBB has really gotten into the whole “the ultimate tranny operation is when you pull the broomstick out of your own ass.” It’s gotta be ass for her — no butt or bum substitution allowed.
I’m glad she likes it, but I also know that she’s been hearing the line for five years, at least, and she has never responded to it until recently. My writing is like that. It makes absolutely no sense until you have that experience under your belt, and then the same text that was just blah-blah is suddenly bang on. It’s why I have to be really aware when people tell me what resonates and doesn’t resonate with them, as it usually tells me more about where they are now then about the strength or clarity of my writing.
I bought the broom, though, so I would have a prop. It wasn’t a wasted trip, mind you. I got some CFL bulbs two for a dollar, a bottle of shampoo I need and two pairs of eyelashes. I love eyelashes. Later in the day, I even got a J. Jill black dress on clearance, just across from where I bought my first ever skirt around 25 years before at the Zayre store. It was a Jordache, black pleather, and of course, it needed to be shortened, so I hemmed it with some gasket sealer adhesive. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
When I saw the space and the crowd though, small, young and granola crunchy, I was pretty sure the bit wasn’t going to fly. Add to that the fact the signup list showed serious overbooking, and I just knew it wasn’t my night.
Now, it’s not like I won’t be represented. My friend asked, last night, if I wasn’t going to be there if she could read something of mine. That was out of left field, but I said, sure whatever she wanted. She chose “Hello From Hell,” the piece I wrote for a MSW class training therapists. It was interesting that she chose that, because on Monday night, a lesbian CSW was passing out business cards to network. I spoke with her, and she asked if I had come in to do a class with Arlene when she was training. I had, in 1996, 17 years ago, and that was the only time I ever read “Hello From Hell.” Seems like a sign.
I had a drive back after I left the event, so it gave me time to consider what I might have done for that crowd.
My first thought was to do a bit TBB and I did at a Virginia Prince Lifetime Achievement award ceremony we hosted, where we played the world’s oldest crossdressers, a kind of mix of The Two Thousand Year Old Man and Tim Conway. TBB did this backward pratfall in a chair that just grabbed the crowd, so I forgave her for missing a punch line. Spackle, Spackle.
Still, I’m not sure that ancient history mixed with slapstick was something I could have carried off alone, so better.
It’s old stage practice that when you have a crowd, pander. Wait, that didn’t quite sound right. Give the people what they want and expect. Yeah, that’s a better way to say it.
So I started composing a poem for the occasion:
Everyday the world wakes up anew
Yesterday left behind, Tomorrow not quite here
A new day, A new us
Time to choose again
from all the human possibilities.
Everyday a new beginning
to slip from convention and claim
expression most authentic
choices most empowering
life most beautiful
love most breathtaking
Everyday is reivention
for those who move beyond fear
escaping social pressure
to be a potent self
flying beyond the norm.
Everyday is fresh and full
another chance to go beyond
another chance to find the harmony
another chance to become new
another chance to claim beauty
Everyday is laced with magic
magic in our hearts that lifts us
magic in our creation that energizes us
magic in our world that connects us
magic in our spirit that makes us fly
Everyday is a fresh generation
a claiming of the divine
a threading of possibility
a shattering of expectations
time to choose again
from all the human possibilities.