December Twelfth Two Thousand Nine

Dec. 12th, 2009 | 10:32 pm

I went back to the peep show for 4 shifts this month in between gigs and travel. Opened the month with a trip to Mexico and closing with a visit to the homeland.

The peep show smells the same as always, that green cheap soap feet come and like cash, which there isn't any but one dollar bills repeating their lives through the same machines until they fall apart, but it is like family seeing old faces and having all of the same gripes as I did last time I was with them. It is the most holiday spirit I've had this season, what with all the twinkling lights, multiplied by 8 gazillion in the mirrored girl tank and they put a pint sized silver christmas tree in the corner by booth number 1, just the perfect height for the angel on top to sneak a little buttcrack lick when you bend over, forehead to knee (a new song to pass the time Dolores and Fefita were working on. Dolores Parque used to be called Fushia Black but now she wears a wig. Fefita used to be Evita Loca but she became Evita's freakish hyper cousin who wears glasses and a wig. This is what happens to Crusties, its inevitable really. I adore them both in real life, but you get locked naked for a couple years on stilts in a mirrored/carpeted room playing the same looped itunes pop track on repeat for long enough and you will grow to hate something about the situation.

Anyway, holiday spirit. Peep show, how I didn't really miss you that much but you reel me back and make me love you. There were more familiar faces on the other side of the glass, however, and I missed them too. That's an exagerration of sorts, but the look on their faces when they recognize you is gratifying and feeds the ego of attention - mister "I'm gonna pretend like the Lusty is gross but I've been coming here everyday for decades, no lie", his little cock lit up just like this face and he was grunting a little harder than his usual lackluster wank.

Booth was lonely, though. And a bigger reminder of how few dollars there actual are to make mine with my clothes off.

Bookclub: Not just for Oprah

Jul. 18th, 2010 | 05:16 pm

Our lovely bookclub that often provides my sole social sustenance in any given month, took our annual retreat to Guerneville: home of gays, rivermoss, and good times.

We rotated through the house, lovingly called "Cabin De Menthe" by the cutest of Deep Lez vacation rental owners, Tina and Sue, noshing on perfectly tuned meals, playing our less than tuned violins, sipping wine & whiskey around the firepit and soaks in the hot tub until my fingers shriveled up like a California raisin. I am told that our skin wrinkles in the water because soaking dehydrates the body and sucks the water out. I'm not sure if I believe this but plan to research. Good theory. Although more whiskey doesn't necessarily return the body to its watery hydrated state.


Bookclub is dedicated. We are pushing 2 and a half years of monthly gatherings where 75% of those in attendance have read most of our democratically elected novel for the month. We claim James Baldwin as our patron saint, but recently have had an affinity for the Southern Gothic. Maybe 2 selections out of the 30 months of bookclub, give or take, have been light hearted or comedic. No surprise then, when one of the fearless originators, Jade, suggests we read Dorothy Allison's short story, "River of Names" around the campfire, in honor of her residence in Guerneville. (There was intent of reading and discussing short stories on the retreat, and despite our best intentions, relaxing took the precedent for the weekend.) It is one of those stories that I have read many times, and each time I battle through its six pages, I swear I never want to read it again. I love the rest of "Trash" and her other stories, but that one, I'm better off without it.

Bookclub doesn't have a fancy name, just bookclub. The invitation is open, ground rules tried and true. I appreciate bookclub, the love of my family in that safe space, and all the amazing contributions each person brings to the table.