this weekend was so weird and quiet and strange. spent it boyfriendless for the first time in a long time (his mom was visiting) & it was nice to have some time all to myself to explore and exist and be.
saturday was the garlickiest garlic bread ever, friends new and old, laughing until i squeaked, making a wallet (or beginning one, anyway), staying up late and falling asleep happy & content by myself in my tiny blue-green room.
on sunday i went to book ‘em before normal hours so i could get some work done for a few hours. on the ride home i decided to cut through the allegheny cemetery (blatantly ignoring the “NO BIKES” sign. yup, call the badass office and tell them to issue me a license…) (I’M BEING SARCASTIC) and it was fucking so incredibly gorgeous i thought i was gonna fall right off my bike. that place in autumn is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! the most beautiful place in pittsburgh!
i disturbed a flock of ravens, by accident, with my pedaling & they all took off & i was surrounded by hundreds of birds in flight. it was fucking magic.
and then i made s’mores on my stovetop and then went to the laundromat. i sat on the stoop of a pizza place while my clothes were in the drier, sewing my wallet and enjoying the sun on my face. the pizza place was closed (or so i thought), making it a prime place to sit in the sun like a wayward senior citizen (or so i thought!)
but, a guy needed to get in, so i jumped up, kinda startled. when i put my left foot down, i was like “ow” and went to investigate. i saw a huge sewing needle sticking out of my shoe, so i pulled it out. i put my left foot down again and it still hurt. upon closer inspection, i’d stepped on TWO needles at once, one of which had snapped and was impaled in my shoe & was impossible to pull out with my bare hands.
so, i called pino 911 and she came with a bag full of pliers and saved the day. god, i love that woman. we took a walk and talked about life. we were hugging goodbye a few hours later & talking about making dinner. a guy wearing a stars-and-stripes jogging suit was staring at us & pino jokingly said, “what, ya wanna come to dinner too?” he yelled, “i dunno, what’s good?” “everything i make is good!” “oh yeah, like what?” “like liver and onions!” “liver and onions, huh? how do ya make that?” and he wouldn’t leave until pino explained, in detail, how to make liver & onions. i lurked in the background cuz i didn’t want to leave her alone with this insane man. finally he was satisfied and walked down the street. as he passed me he made eye contact, looking at ME like i was the crazy one, and sneered, “you can go back to your girlfriend now,” !!! what a weirdo. i texted pino about it once i got home and she replied with something like, “that’s the last time i talk to a stranger wearing gym clothes.” ha!
p.s. OMG, like, seventeen magazine is hatin’ on FTMs. you should check it out. totally fucked up & minorly surprising, as both teen people and cosmogirl! had positive articles on trannies in the past few years. oh well. write them, or not, it probably won’t make a real difference but i guess it’s good to be aware of, or something…
something funny happened while i was biking to work today. out of the corner of my eye i noticed two 30-something guys. one had climbed up the side of the beam holding up the porch, and the other one was helping him down. i glanced at them, was amused, and rolled on my way. as i passed them a little, i overheard the following convo:
ridiculous lawrenceville man #1 [scornfully & loudly]: man! you did all that and that biker lady didn’t even LOOK!
ridiculous lawrenceville man #2: how could you not look? that shit was so cool! what the hell?
this made me laugh and i continued on to work happy (until my tupperware malfunctioned and i spilled the delicious curried-zucchini-potatoes-and-chickpeas lunch i’d packed all over my bike & the sidewalk, in front of this annoying guy from the bank. BOO!!!
but speaking of bikes, OMG. i seriously had the worst bike shop experience of my whole life at iron city bikes this week! i normally don’t go there, but it’s really close to job #2. i heard a rumor that my bottom bracket was fucked up, so i dropped it off for an overhaul. it was bad enough that when i dropped it off, the obnoxious dude working the counter implied that i was stupid enough to ride around with my brakes totally disengaged (“uh, you do know that your back brakes aren’t even on, right?” “that’s because i had to take the wheels off to fit it in his car!” “uh, you do know that your front brakes aren’t even on…?” DUH. like i am just gonna bop around with NO FUCKING BRAKES. grrrrrrr).
but then when i went to pick it up, i found that the front derailleur had come loose in the fixin’ process and was pushing my chain into hateful first gear and not smooth, easy second gear. i was like “sigh” because i REALLY didn’t want to bring it back and deal with more dudeliness. but it worked when i brought it there, however imperfectly, and didn’t work anymore. so i gritted my teeth and went back in. i calmly explained what was wrong and asked if they could fix it. and the manager fucking yelled at me! he literally yelled, “i don’t know WHO agreed to fix this bike! there is so much shit wrong with this bike! it’s a safety hazard! i can’t believe you ride this thing!” etc etc. i seriously wanted to cry. i have issues with men yelling at me, but i said, in a firm unwavering voice. “look. this worked when i brought it in and it doesn’t work anymore. can we please just fix it so i can get home?” he knelt down to look at it and was making hyperventilating noises like he was about to start crying himself. IT WAS SO WEIRD.
but i guess the story ends happily, because they took off my offending derailleur (which hasn’t worked since 2002) and now my bike works so well! i zip around the city like a dream. now i understand why i was having so much trouble getting up the hill, why i was so exhausted after biking everywhere. it wasn’t my fault! it was the fault of a shitty bottom bracket that should have been replaced years ago, as well as the derailleur rubbing against my chain. and now that i’m free of both those things i feel so free.
but seriously, fuck a bunch of those bike assholes. i am so tired of being treated like an idiot every time i go to a bike shop. i’m not an idiot. i’ve been a commuter biker for 9 years now. i know how to fix a flat, adjust my brakes, etc. and what REALLY pisses me off is that EVERY TIME i go in to a bike shop with a dude, it’s always a dude who knows less about bikes than i do and rides less than i do, but they are ALWAYS treated with more respect. they are listened to, things are explained to them, they aren’t rudely cut off or yelled at or condescended to. it makes me so angry i could just scream. i wish i was handy enough to fix all my own shit and never have to give my money to someone who is such a blatant asshole to me ever again, but my hands are tied, as are the hands of any woman who drives a car or rides a bike. it’s fucked up.
dudes: if you’re in a bike shop with a lady (or someone who’s perceived as a lady) and you catch the mechanic treating them like an asshole, you can call them on it. really, you can. just a simple “hey, she knows what she’s talking about” can do wonders. i remember once, about 7 years ago, i was at home on long island and i was telling my dad about something that had gone wrong with my bike. he said, “oooooookay,” like i was being ridiculous, chuckled condescendingly, and gave my brother (who does not know a damn thing about bikes) a sidelong glance like i was being crazy. my brother snapped, “you should listen to ocean. she knows a lot about bikes,” and my dad’s face fell. it was an awesome moment of sibling solidarity. and you know what? my dad never questioned my ability to fix my bike again. that’s all it took. (and geez, it’s my dad! my dad is always saying that i’m smarter than him, but even he couldn’t be nice about this one fucking thing.)
so please. dudes and people who are perceived as dudes: bike shop solidarity. we need it. mechanics: yelling at people for not having a perfectly maintained bike does not accomplish anything. being condescending to women does not make yr dick bigger. and being a fucking asshole serves no one. the end.
me and ray, on his 23rd birthday, at a lake in butler county. there was a big sign posted that said “NO INDECENT OR IMMORAL BEHAVIOR”. aren’t we indecent just by existing, though?
char & ian at the lake.
unfortunately, they didn’t have “bisexual auto parts”, so this was the best i could do!
oh, did you know that yesterday i got my first tattoo in 8 years? and that it was a tattoo i’ve wanted for nearly a decade now? and that it was done in my kitchen by a very lovely dyke tattoo artist? well, now you do.
cackling through the pain. everyone there was really funny. robin said, “i’m trying to tattoo you in between laughs!” amanda said, “me and pino are trying to tell jokes in between tattooing!”
amanda & pino alternated holding my hands.
a different perspective!
me & robin the tattoo artist, done for the day. she’s gonna fill in the typester in a few weeks. huzzah! i’ll post close-up pics when it heals a little more. it was a really good night, full of love for the ladiez in my life.
on monday i was hanging out with my AMAZING middle-aged-butch-dyke, cranky-genius, cuban-refugee-via-ny-and-sf-turned-lawrenceville-homeowner, pino. we had a good, strange night hanging out, and in the course of that night, she was successfully able to define the term “hipster”! people are always struggling to define that term, but coming up short. nobody can quite put their finger on it. until pino.
“a hipster,” she proclaimed, “is somebody you don’t like.” then we shrieked with laughter. it’s so true!
sunday was my 5 year anniversary of quitting smoking. i would still do anything for a damn cigarette. well, obviously, i could just walk to the corner store right now and buy a pack. there’s nothing physically stopping me from doing it. but i can’t. maybe you know why & maybe you don’t.
last night i was going to go to bed in defeat but kelsey & amanda did a drop-in. one bad thing about the drop-in was that i left all manner of inappropriate shit laying around and i think they saw it all. sorry! but other than that it was good. we all cuddled in my hammock under the stars (i initially, accidentally, typed “stores”) and told stories about our day and i felt very loved and taken care of, both by them and the universe.
i’m at the public library right now, downtown, and i just wanted to share that the girl at the next computer (don’t worry, she can’t see this) is being loud and teen girl-like and she just said (i think she’s either on the phone or talking with someone on another computer facing us, can’t really tell): “why did you comment on that picture of me with blood in my mouth?” she sounds amused. this is not as funny and weird in blog form as it is to live it. oh well!
so two days ago i was riding my bike down butler st., headed for my stupid-ass job, when i rode over an industrial-strength staple that handily punctured my tire. my bike shuddered so much upon impact i almost got thrown off, and i staggered to the side of the road, my “fuck fuck FUCK” complaints nearly as loud as the HIIIIIIISSSSSSSS coming from my poor lil’ tube.
but every cloud has a silver lining, because i hiked up the hill to the 54c and encountered my buddy five at the bus stop. the bus took forever to come, but that’s okay, because the following hilarious thing happened.
a school bus full of junior high kids was stopped at a red light. as is customary, the whole bus started heckling everyone on the street. a few teen girls (probably between the ages of 12-14) focused on us. one of them yelled, “hey, is that your brother?” pointing at five. i said no. her friend said, “oh, is he gonna hit it then?” me & fivey burst into hysterical giggles at the idea of us doing it, and then when we recovered, i yelled, “nope, we’re both gay!” the two girls looked at each other in surprise. they yelled something i couldn’t hear. then the light turned green and i waved my hand exaggeratedly, yelling, “it was so nice talking to you! thanks a lot!!” and they waved back in kind of a confused way. oh MAN! so funny. i love fucking with teenagers’ heads.
in other news, last night i finally visited oh yeah! with ray. i’ve been hearing so much about oh yeah! and all of it is true. we shared a belgian waffle with cookie dough and soy ice cream and it was AMAZING and i can’t stop thinking about it. now i understand the slavish devotion.
in other news, tomorrow i am 27! wow.
yesterday i had a strange and beautiful experience. i was angrily stomping around butler street on my lunch break when i saw a flyer saying that bitch (of bitch and animal fame) was playing at a coffee shop in the hood that night. i don’t normally listen to her music, but i had a feeling that it would be an interesting thing to see live, and i was right. i was thinking about people playing music in the same room as you, how that’s such a gift, and how it’s easy to overlook what a privilege that is, what a rare special thing.
so i went home & made curried lentils & wrestled with my computer (not literally) & then went back out for the show. i laid on the floor, in a lushly carpeted & pillowed show-space, surrounded by lesbians (half of whom i know–this is pittsburgh, after all). one thing that i hadn’t expected (but i think i knew subconsciously, which i think is why i felt compelled to go so strongly) is that bitch moves like axi, and makes the same face when she sings.
have you ever known anyone who died? i think it’s not an uncommon experience to remember your dead loved one as a series of still pictures; not an animate human anymore. i think it’s not uncommon to forget their voice, forget how they moved, forget what their presence was like. partially because remembering hurts too much and partially because there’s just nothing left to remind you. and so here i was, sitting twenty feet from this woman who looks and moves so much like this other woman; something i thought i would never see again. and here it is, right in front of me.
in the between-song banter, bitch was talking about how she found a scary lump in her breast and spent a whole month totally freaking out, convinced that she was going to die, and how she made a promise to herself that if she was okay that she was going to live really fiercely, that she was going to love really hard and dance really fast and have really hot sex and do something that made a difference in her life and the lives of others. i had a very similar experience last year with a scary lump in my neck & a very similar realization stemming from it. and so after the show i went up to her & said that i’d had the same experience, and how it lit a fire under my ass. i said, “after i found out i was okay, i wrote a book, because i realized i didn’t have any more time to waste. and you need to let the lump be a gift.” her eyes got really wide, like she really needed to hear it. “what is your book about?!?!!” she yelled, but then she got pulled away by someone else.
so i wrote my email address on her mailing list, and then drew a bunch of arrows pointing to the other side of the page, and wrote “p.s. my lump-inspired book is about kale and compost piles and group-house love and the families we make when our own throw us away…” [which is not really an accurate description, but it's what i could think of at that moment. i get flustered trying to explain my book.] i was chatting with this lady i know and then bitch came back and said, “wait! so what’s it about?” and i showed her what i wrote and she yelled, “I LOVE YOU!” and gave me a big hug, and the whole thing was so exactly what axi would have done. it was fucking eerie, and so unexpected, and so so beautiful. i didn’t cry; i went to the lesbo bar with some acquaintances of mine & then rode my bike home super fast, feeling triumphant and safe and loved.
i took a long walk through a cemetery in a snowstorm. mainly because the allegheny cemetery is in the way of pretty much every place i need to get to, so i thought i’d cut through it. this never saves me any time; but i never learn. it almost doesn’t matter how much time i waste in there, it’s so beautiful. my ipod literally froze so it was just me & the silence & the snow & all the dead people. beautiful, even though i felt like shit and was cursing pittsburgh’s lack of decent public transit. i saw two other people walking through too. they both looked so interesting, like they really had somewhere to be, like they had a good reason for taking a long walk in shitty weather. i felt a part of something bigger, and better, than myself.
amanda & i decided to celebrate the fact that we both randomly received 90’s-dance-song-themed mix cd’s in the same week, both of which were made by people who know our love of kitchen dance parties, and who insisted that their cd’s be used in the kitchen. this was a bizarre coincidence, but a nice one. & so on new year’s day, we gathered some good peeps together to freak out to junior high dance songs.
how can you make a document of something using still pictures, using fixed words, when its inherent nature is one of movement, one of change? not using flash helps, but who likes dancing in adequate lighting? not me. when you want to remember, but you don’t want it remembered like this:
the flash arresting everyone, frozen in an eternally awkward pose. when it wasn’t that way at all. when you moved, you were beautiful. you felt it. you became part of something larger than yourself, as cliche as that perhaps is. cliches happen. your formerly freezing cold house was now sweaty; everyone’s outerclothes in a gigantic pile on a kitchen chair. you let people come into your home & you had a moment, without spending money or worrying about looking cool or whatever. you just let yourselves go; you let yourselves happen. and it was amazing.
that’s a little more like it. but still, not accurate. but really, how can you or i or anyone describe anything that happens to us & have it be accurate? that’s just how it is.
p.s. did you know that i apparently make this stupid-ass face:
every time i dance? i guess you would if you ever danced with me. but since i don’t often look in the mirror while dancing, i had no idea until amanda took multiple pictures of me dancing & i was making that face in every single one! oh well.
when we were pulling into pittsburgh at 6 a.m. yesterday, my greyhound driver got on the loudspeaker and announced, “i want to wish you all a happy new year. and i hope that 2009 is the best year you’ve ever had, but not the best year you ever will have.” he sounded sincere and urgent. i don’t think i’ve ever heard such a genuinely nice new year’s wish. who would have guessed it would be on the hound at 6 a.m.?
new york was good, full of inspiring ladies & good people who i miss. i remain glad to be just a visitor, though. riding the LIRR back into the city on saturday night i felt the genuine misery, of all those people trapped in gilded cages miserably shuffling to work at some god-awful hour. that used to be me, and i am glad that it is not me any longer.
today is gorgeous & i can’t really enjoy it cuz i’m here. it’s okay, though, i guess. the building across the street blocks my view of the sky entirely, but one of its windows reflects it. i can see the most eye-blinding shade of blue & a bare spidery tree & all sorts of birds swirling around. i wouldn’t even know they were there were it not for this window, this little portal to the other world. to the casual observer, i am just staring vapidly into space. but you know what? the casual observer’s wrong.
