something beautiful about a dancer’s foot

Knarled. Older than time. Carrying youth and grace. Broken. Bruised. Bloody. Beautiful.

I know a little bit about the pain held in the feet. Walking on bunions, blisters and ripped open toes and ankles to maintain femme status. The more painful the costume, the higher the femme. No complaints.

I put on my work sneakers this morning and my feet said "really corrie? yesterday was the last day." I need a new pair of shoes. Wearing my chucks instead... reminds me of being 13.

I love my feet. I have fallen arches and cantankerous ingrown toenails. It's genetic. When I make a footprint you can see the entire sole of my foot. These peds with chipped nailpolish connect me to the women in my family. Connect me to all women. Make me a woman.

After work I will go get myself a pedicure in honor of the dancing pairs of feet I am watching this month. Also looking forward to drinking with a femme tonight and not driving home to the east bay.

come together over me

the past 2 months feel like two years. or that I've grown up twice my age, but in a good way. I drive a gas effecient honda civic (baby sister's hand me down), I have a job that pays me what I deserve for the amazing talents I give to my industry, I have my own home that I am decorating exactly the way I want, I quit smoking with ease and effeciency, I take two of the f'ing cutest dogs on walks around echo park and they listen to my commands, I remember to take my meds and eat, I have good self esteem and am looking forward to the future.

I remember that overwhelming and recent feeling of wanting to slam my car into a tree and make it all go away. I remember the moment when I decided to do it at 40 miles an hour instead of 80. The world of difference velocity makes. How glad I am that I chose what I did. How glad I am that being BPS means Attempting and not Actualizing. The scars on my chest fade fast. I touch them to remember. I am excited to live. It tastes good.

grey morning musings

In order to be really, really good at what I do (and although I am looking at this from a work perspective, I think it applies to all aspects of my self and life) I need to dig around and embrace those Libras that make up half my chart. Learn to use them to balance out all the driving, bossy, burning too bright and fast Aries, to scrape the broken Pisces ego off the cement and continue to focus on the fun loving Leo that is dynamic on stage and great with people. I made it all work last night, I want to be able to pull that magic out whenever I need it.

I am sore and exhausted from dancing for hours but the feeling of my muscles burning and my toes crunching is reassuring that I'm still alive -- I can push my body to extremes and feel/look so good doing it. I'm proud of last night, proud of where my summer vacation took me since March… the people I've met and friends I've made are treasures that I want to keep polished, not watch collect dust on my shelf.

The way sweat flies off ladies' gyrating bodies on a pool table with a slippery plywood cover, the way my own sweat pools above my lip and on my forehead and the feel of towering above the floor, like I was made to have seven inch spikes attached to my soles. The way that good music spins my torso and I don't have to think about dancing, the movement, it just comes into me. Someone exclaimed that I was barely wearing anything and I replied that this is when I feel most comfortable. My skin is my armor, pounds of makeup my shield, shoes as weapons. I have nothing to hide if there ain't nothing to hide behind. Then again, it is a mask of performance though the smile I wear is true, the high from it is real, the after hours elation stays with me for days.

I awoke from very vivid dreams. I rarely am blessed to remember my dreams. Boss says that everyone in your dream is a representation of yourself, some part of yourself. It felt like community meeting, wednesdays, 3pm, but it was so touching, involving characters from my current life and scenarios from my current thoughts. I had an ice cream cone. It was delicious just like out of MacGregor. There was a banana. There were lots of spreadsheets and diagrams that I saw with clarity. Colorful. There was drama and arguing. There was community. I can only imagine what those meetings must be like now. Thankful to not be a part of that world anymore.

I moved yesterday. To oakland, to my own apartment. It's very cute, just what I was looking for. It will still be a week before I've fully transitioned to east bay living but I am excited.

dirty tarot today

THE FEATHER... flight. freedom. a gentle song, a softness of breath, a tickle of spiritual guidance. floating ease. soaring spirit. idealism. bask in the possibility of beauty.

kindness

Learning to accept kindness with graciousness and gratitude, understanding that they come without expectations. To recieve a gift in the same way I give, without requiring any instant or identical reciprocation because we give for both the joy of the reciever and the giver alike. That I don't have to prove anything to be worthy, that being myself is enough. Applying what I know to be true about desire… that perhaps wanting to be taken care of is not a flaw or sign of weakness but instead a yearning to be fulfilled and if that be so then there is an equal and opposite desire waiting to fulfill.

Soak it up.

Feel the burn of the sun on my chest, weighing heavy and pleasant. Store it away for later when winter grey falls around my home. Want to bottle this sweat like a treasured cologne and relish a paradise that everyone loves to hate.

time to blog about joan

I thought that by the third week of the joan rivers theatre project workshop I would have hours worth of juicy, dirty stories about miss rivers. as it turns out, I have nothing but admiration for the woman. this is no "moving right along". she's always full of gracious words and praise, never missing a chance to joke, and the jokes are always good. mean, crude, dirty and delicious. she shares old school femme tricks with me and has about a hundred pairs of fake lashes in her dressing room. a woman of my own heart.

she gets off stage after a 90 minute show, I rip her out of the rigged costume I just shimmied her into a few moments before and she jets over to another venue to do standup. two shows a night. it's rather unbelievable. I'm exhausted when we have mere two show days, much less two different venues in one night. we are all going to watch her standup at the plush room on friday, I'm excited. she's running the NY marathon and she's stronger than me (there's a gag where I hold a door shut so it appears as if she's locked in the dressing room set on stage and it takes every once of my strength to keep the door shut while she pulls it open from the other side.) her team of handlers are all dolls and we've had a blast drinking lava bowls and dancing at the tonga room.

I am to the point as a stage manager where I'm not learning anything more backstage and this is one of the easiest productions I've run at the magic theatre. still, they all think I'm working very hard and making the magic happen. really, it is just an honor to watch this woman and her supporting characters from behind the curtains as the play gets rewritten on a daily basis, growing into a full blown production and not just the staged workshop it was scheduled to be. I cry with laughter every night at the same jokes I have now heard a hundred times. I chain-smoked with Melissa on our fire escape balcony and listened to her talk about cooper, the grandbaby, and thought to myself, wow, joan looks better than her own daughter. I've seen precious pictures of the two of them together when melissa was a baby and joan had a nose. I don't need a signature, these are memories I will not forget. truly old school hollywood at its finest.

I won't be going union right away next week. the show I booked got moved to next spring so I will be waiting until mid-december to fulfill my AEA dreams. in the meantime, I miss the lusty and will need all the free time I can afford to pursue dreams in a more southerly direction. I am content and excited and life feels good.

letter from my mother from jerusalem

the following is an email from my mama who is back in palestine, where she and her pastor/best friend, Bonnie, lead tours every summer. this year they went alone to attend the Annual International Conference at the International Center of Bethlehem (ICB), where our friend Mitri is pastor/founder. I was there just over a year ago and so much has changed. The local winery, Cremisen, has closed it's gardens because the wall is cutting straight through it, the settlements are spreading visciously, there is still no resolution between the Abbas vs. Fatah Palestinian government debate that nearly tears families apart. It sounds like things will soon be coming to a head, whether that means more war and worsened conditions or further & resolutionary peace talks. She said a man spoke yesterday at the conference who envisioned a middle-eastern union, not unlike the EU, that could bring together all of the small, resource wealthy but war-ridden countries of the fertile cresent, building a super power that could overthrow the "western" occupation and take those countries into a new economic age. This is one of the few solutions I have heard over 5 years of study that makes some sense. Ok, on to the wisdom of my mother:

Hi,
It's been another full day. We went into the old city (snuck in 2 Palestinians on our bus) - visited just the Wailing Wall and Church of the Holy Sepulchre in different ways. We spent over an hour at each of the sites with one of the conference leaders as guides. We had lunch in the old city. Then one of the church elders took us to a friend's house in the old city, owner of CocaCola Israel- you guessed it- a magnificent house with a magnificent view from his rooftop. This guy is also on the ICB board of directors. Our bus then took us to Sabeel [a christian organization working against housing destruction/rehabilitation] where we had an excellent presentation by the UN office. This is the info that we know a lot about- but these theological people are not up to date on this. They have a website with some excellent maps. Driving between Bethlehem and Jerusalem- the settlements have grown so much even since last year- and it won't be long before Harhoma and Gilo connect. When Tony Blair saw the same UN presentation, he was shocked at the settlement growth. When our bus got to the Bethlehem checkpoint [what Isreal now calls a super-terminal], a man and his son were facing guns. It was scary and very new for most of the other people on the bus. It was lucky we were there to witness- things cooled, though I'm sure one or both is arrested- for what, nothing. We will be meeting Nina [a Jewish woman who tours around the world speaking against the occupation] on Saturday for dinner- and Kathy Nichols on Sunday for lunch (from Sabeel), but I absolutely can't wait to get home. I'm missing you so much. I love you, xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoooooooooooooooo love, Mom

the rathskeller

after bitching about madison on this blog for a few weeks, nothing makes me happier than meeting someone who knows about the red union mugs that you used to be able to go get refilled at the wisconsin union (where I am STILL a member! and I never even schooled there!) with beer or coffee or whatever you so pleased nearly anytime of day. anyone who knows me knows I'm rarely without my red, gross, coffee-stained brown mug circa 1991 and how desperately I search to find something as good, as perfect, as suitable for my beverage of choice. And now the lid is busted, what to do?

a good night at chez, ready to count some paper and pretend like it's a lot, but I love to take my clothes off for money and there was a fabulous bachlorette party there for most of the night that I think annoyed everyone, but they paid me well, and I just can't get enough of 80's prom dresses.

my bed is covered in ho gear and I am tempted to just crawl in alongside the piles of bikinis and stilletos and condoms and lube just to lay down my pretty curls and sleep. exhaustion in the purest form.

homesick for cali

just a couple of days in wisconsin and I remember with full force why I moved to san francisco. I hate the accent and the lack of organic food and products. I hate all the straight people asking me over and over to explain trans identity and politics after which they just spend the night making fun of it. I hate living under my parents roof where I spent some of the worst years of my life. I hate being treated like I'm 15. I miss the smell of piss on the sidewalk, I miss ritual mochas in the morning and bart and the lusty and the lex and my family on virgil street. I miss the ocean and the big rainbow flag in the castro. I miss freaks and queers and dolores park and dirt and glide and hills and "hella" and the spanish that I can't speak. I miss you.

summer vacay

taking the summer off from theatre was the best decision of my life. found myself a femme gang and a ton of sun. a float ride shaking my ass on national television. the hustling that I forgot I missed so much. drinking too much and staying up all night. actually getting to go to pride because there wasn't a show to run or rehearsals to attend. I do miss the theatre being away and it will feel terribly good to be back.

my next show is 'The Joan Rivers Project' -starring the one and only. should be hilarious.

my kid sister's wedding is in just a few weeks now. going back to the homeland for a week filled with wedding and family and all the wonderful intense emotions that follow. I have to throw a bachlorette party for my straight-edge, prudish and favorite (only) most beautiful sister. And make a toast. Ans all sorts of other things that are already freaking me out. It's just way too hetero for me.

perv award

the show I'm working on right now opened last night accompanied by too much wine and a a few moments that were, well, just too much. they give out a "golden homie", otherwise known as a gold spray painted homer simpson pez dispenser, that resembles a very small golden penis. I was asked to accept the golden penis award on behalf of a co-worker who I adore, and the acceptance was accompanied by a little too much touching from the director, who is also my boss. ewwww, gross! I sweat so much standing in front of everyone after already downing too much wine. the rest of the evening was spent on the fire escape with all my best friends, a high school kid who flirts with older women, a foxy mother/daughter pair, and a smattering of kids I went to school with. one of the better opening nights, which we closed down again, thank you team H. cheers to robots, new yorkers, student designers, noggin' juice and crazy folks... "that's the magic part"

now it's sunday and family night has already come and gone with only two l-words left before we'll have to come up with something better to do on sunday nights. and I embark on my first weekend (as in 3 sequencial days off!!!!!!) since I skipped town for x-mas. I've worked my butt off all year thus far and I'm so thrilled to get out of town. a little road trip south.

perfect days in the dark

It's such a perfect day. I have matinee eyes after having a smoke break on the fire escape looking out at the ocean and angel island. nicole yells "boat" in excitement because we are truly that brain dead. but it's back to what's been dubbed "hotel corrie" which is within the area of backstage on the northside theatre which has been dubbed "shit-land" due to all the crap being tossed back in the corner because this place has no storage for anything.

I wish I was on the back of a motorcycle in the sun. I wish I was drinking a cosmopolitan at the bar. I wish I was laying on the beach, or shopping for a pair of black suede boots. Oh god, anywhere but backstage in the dark!