Spotlight: Out of this world

After a couple of disappointing shows, I am pleased to report that the Spotlight show is back on track and better than ever.  This is not your typical drag show.  What started out as a drag king show has become a showcase for kings, queens, femmes, male leads, and burlesque…an avalanche of alternative performance.   This show proves that lip-synching can absolutely be an art. 

The theme for this night’s show was “Out of this world” and most of the performers had acts based on that theme.  Interestingly, it was these acts, going beyond drag and burlesque clichés, that were  the most successful. 

No one typifies this artistic sensibility more than Mr. Eddie C. Broadway.  He, probably more than any other performer in the show, knows that drag is primarily a visual medium.    His Avatar and Mad Max outfits could stand as works of art on their own.   But it was not just about the costumes.  His choreography was uniquely tied to the outfit.   His subtle twitching during the Mad Max act was a particularly nice touch. 

I haven’t spoken much about Melody Broadway in the past.  To be honest, her acts were disappointing.   Last night, however, she easily won the most stylized and interesting act award for the evening.   Her first act was an odd Kabuki inspired number.  It may have referenced some pop culture that I am unaware of but it didn’t matter.  It was quirky and ineffable and I loved it.

The guest performers,  Symphonie von Liebe and Dix E. Tracy, in keeping with the Science Fiction theme, did an amazingly sensual meeting of Kirk and Spock.  As much fun as it was to see the beloved Science Fiction icons portrayed by beautiful woman, it was much more fun to see those same icons ruin each other’s makeup with passionate, on stage making out.   Oh yeah, and the choreography was nice too.   Sorry, I’m still having flashbacks to that lipstick besmirching kiss. 

Freddie Prinze Charming, the presenter of the show, served as MC and had one act.  He was painted silver from head to toe and sported a large silver “F” on his chest.  The effect was very entertaining.  He displayed a raw masculine power that is missing from a lot of king acts, who while dressed as men, still often display feminine gesturing. 


The various queen acts were for the most part disappointing.   Rather than follow the general theme of the show, they chose to stick with traditional drag routines  (if the word “traditional” can be ascribed to a drag act.)  Felicia Minor, while staying in the drag milieu, was energetic and fresh.  Seeing her interact with the audience is always fun.   Some of the other queen acts started off interesting enough, but ultimately degenerated into simply collecting tips…to the point of leaving the stage empty for an awkwardly long time.       

If you’ve never seen a Spotlight show, you are truly missing out on an experience.   This is not just the best queer show in town.  It’s the best show. 

Th-th-th-th-that's all folks

I could not think of a more fitting place to have the swan song to my comedy career than at Gunner Daimon Gatlyn's fund raiser for ....well, for whatever MI title he doesn't already have.   The one set I was expecting to do went very well.  Lots of appreciative compliments both on the act and how awesome I looked.  (Not sure which compliment I appreciated more.)  

The second, unexpected set did not go well and I cut it short.  I should have known better.  One of the rules I learned over the years is that after 10pm, the audience will not respond to an intelligent set.  They are usually so drunk by that time that the only thing they will laugh at is how often you say the word "fuck."   I once testing this hypothesis by doing a set after 10pm entirely in Middle English heroic couplets.  The difference was that I ended every line with some form of profanity.  I absolutely killed.

But it was particularly fitting that my last appearance on stage should have ended with the audience not really listening to me.  The words of Eliot came to mind:

This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper

Schadenfreude

I had to pick Kenny up from school the other day. When I showed up, the nurse was confused. She was expecting a Jimmye Winburn to pick him up. I told her that I was Jimmye Winburn. More confusion. She asked if she could see my ID. I presented it to her. She looked at her computer screen and now looked especially confused. "Oh, I'm sorry. We have you down as Kenny's grandfather." 

"Yes," I said. "I AM his grandfather." 

Her confusion turned to pained perplexity. 

I let her delicious confusion stew for a bit before releasing her from her torment. "I'm transgender."
"Oh!" she said, "I am so sorry. So Sorry."

"It's OK."

"I am so sorry."

When you're trans, you take whatever schadenfreude you can. I am SO going to hell.

I'm out

I have been asked if I am actually retiring from comedy.  I can say now that I am. 

With very few exceptions, the comedy world has made it abundantly clear that my presence is not welcome.  And since the vast majority of comedians are terrible people that I wouldn't want to hang out with anyway, I am not really losing anything. 

There are other trans comedians...sure.  Some of them have even managed to thrive in the community.  I can't...or I just don't have the moxy... or too old... or simply too tired.  I'm tired of being played off the stage in the middle of my act and having the host tell people that the performer up after me is a "real woman."  I'm tired of a host stopping me in mid act and saying that no one wants to hear five minutes of body stuff after he just did fifteen minutes about farting.  I'm tired of getting helpful advice that I should do something other than trans comedy because it makes people uncomfortable.  (i.e. it made HIM uncomfortable.)   And I'm tired of being passed up for gigs...even for shows that feature other LGBT performers... because I "just don't fit in." 

A while back I unfriended most of the performers I knew on Facebook.  They had clearly only friended me to be able advertise their shows anyway.  I may have to unfriend a few more soon and for the same reason.  If you are a performer and have never commented on any of my stuff,  you will soon find yourself with one less person to invite to your show....not that you would notice.   I doubt if any of you have even bothered to read this blog entry.  

Another trans performer once told me that every time I go up on stage and do my transgender shtick, I make life a little better for all of us.  I followed that advice for five years and just got a lot of heartache for my trouble.  Doesn't matter.  The schmagekkes have won.  I'm out. 

I am so out that I don't even want to SEE any more comedy or drag shows.   Don't bother inviting me.

This is the healthy thing for me to do.

Finally, this is my advice to other comedians who are trans but have not made it part of their act.  STAY STEALTHY.  Do not come out.  All you will do is make trouble for yourself. 

A manifesto of sorts

Please bear this in mind when you are conversing with me:
1) I do not "like" men.  In truth I can barely tolerate them.  I spent fifty years and a lot of money trying to escape having to see a penis every day.  The last thing I want is to bring another one into the picture.  So guys (cis-men, trans-men, pseudo-men, demi-pseudo-trans men, and everything in between,) fucking give up.  I'm not going to date you no matter how attractive you think I am.
2) I am not your damned therapist.  My life is not "all together."  When you come to me out of the blue and detail just how badly your life sucks, all you are going to do is push me into the corner weeping piteously as I remember just how badly MY life sucks.  So much loss.  So much loss.
3) Do not give me helpful advice on what I COULD do to be a better producer/capitalist.  My brain is hard-wired to screen out any talk about money matters.  *I* can't do anything and your comments on "why can't you see this?  It's so easy." feel like you're whipping me.  Don't fucking whip me. I will cut you.
4) No, I probably do not know your friend who also a) is gay b) is trans c) lives in Arizona.
5) Yes, I am a liberal, a Socialist, anti-gun, and (as far as Christians can see) an atheist.  Fucking stop trying to convince me to be otherwise.   And if you feed me a line of conservative, plutocratic, pro-gun, and Christian shit, expect that I will call you on it as surely as I make the Jehovah's Witnesses sorry they ever walked up to my door and tried to convert me.  Let's make a deal.  You don't try to convince me to believe any of your crap, and I will do likewise. 
6) I am not an elitist just because you can't understand half the words I say.  I'm not going to debase my lexicon.  Fucking find out what those words mean yourselves.  You don't even have to crack open a book.  Just fucking google it.
7) I am not going to fucking clean up my language.  As Mark Twain said, "There is some comfort to swearing ...a comfort denied even to prayer."

είμαι Θεα

Back when I was male...  (I say it that way because even my kids say that I was never really a man) ....but back when I was male, every other day I would have a nightmare in which I was either being fired or was about to be fired.  I usually wound up 87549//////////////////////////////////////////////////////nhbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb (damn it, Dog.  Get off that freaking keyboard!)  by co-workers who tormented me that I was a terrible programmer, a horribly ineffectual human being, and an idiot.  This nightmare became so regular that as we went off the bed, I would kiss my dear wife good night and ask, "I wonder what horrors await me in dream time tonight."

These night horrors tapered off when I started transitioning and disappeared completely after my surgery.   My semi-nightly demonic taunting have been replaced by dreams with varying degrees of lucidity.   When the dream is completely lucid, I am essentially God.  But I am not a jealous god.    After one nocturnal apotheosis, I spend the bulk of the night fulfilling the wishes of everyone I met.  And they didn't even have to tell me they loved me or even believe that I was God.   (It's good to be de god.)

Last night's transfiguration was particularly gratifying.  After hanging out with Xena for a time  (she's a pillow princess, who knew?) I found myself at a combination summer school/summer camp.   After enjoying the double-occupant showers and the mandatory sex with other denizens of the girls' dormitory, I decided to continue exploring the rest of the camp au naturale.  There was none of the "Oh my God, I'm naked!" panic of other dreams.  I knew I was gorgeous and was treating the other campers/students to a beatific vision.  No need for false modesty. 

I wandered into the wrestling class.  It was disappointing that I had to wrestle guys,  but they were distracted enough by my nudity to attempt to use their flame throwers on me.  A simple wave of my divine finger took care of that nonsense and sent them flying against the wall.  Utterly bored, I started back for the dormitory, but couldn't remember exactly where it was.  No problem, I thought.  That's the way things go in dreams.  You can never be sure that something will be in the same place when you go back to it.  So, if Jimmye couldn't go to the dormitory, the dormitory must come to Jimmye.  The entire world warped until the entrance to my inner sanctum approached me like a supplicant. 

I woke up with the stupidest of grins on my face. 

A 420 Tale

One time I made the mistake of trying to do a show on 420.  I had never actually heard of the holiday before.  All I knew was that everyone was saying,  "I love 420", "420 is the best."   I honestly thought they were talking about some new cleaning fluid they'd found.

By the time the show started, everyone but me was baked.  The comedians were stoned.  The host was stoned.  The entire audience was high....both of them.

I tried to do my set, but no one was listening.  Nothing but crickets.  Eventually I stopped and asked the crowd, "Hey if I were to leave this stage right now, how long would it take you to even notice?"  Literally half the audience...ok, that one guy...looked up at and said, "......whut?"