Day in the Life of an Idiot

 
Image: Me! With fancy new haircut and fancy new glasses!

 Even though I swore not to get my haircut until the pandemic was over, I realized that, after CONvergence, no small part of my sense of self is, in fact, wrapped up looking a certain way. By which I mean, just when you think you DON'T have body dysphoria, you suddenly realize you do, it's just more subtle than some people's. 

naomikritzer found me a nice trans positive barber and this person did me a solid. It is super hard to walk into a salon, as a woman, and say, "I want to look like a hot dyke" and be understood. Because this person cuts trans men's hair, this person got me.

I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! So, pretty, and buctch-ly, and MEEEE.

I didn't really do too much else for my birthday other than spend a lot of money on food OUT.  I got myself a fancy latte in the morning, we had takeaway ramen for lunch, and takeaway Ethiopian for dinner. (At least that last one served for two meals, as I just finished up the leftovers for lunch today.) Shawn and I watched a bunch of the British Baking Show, and I got this crazy idea to use up all of the blank journals that I've collected over the years, which is to write in a different one for each day of the week. I'm going to try, for instance to record "a year of Wednesdays." We'll see if I keep it up, but it might be fun? Particularly if I don't try to do EVERY DAY of the week.  

I also spent some birthday money on a few more postcards for myself. I have slowed down on my pandemic "world(s) tour" (a series of postcards that I've been sending friends from places and times I wish I could travel to,) but I got inspired today and sent out another set. I've prepped some follow-ups as well. If anyone reading this suddenly wishes that someone would send them a silly story postcard every so often, please let me know and I will add you to my list. For me, it's been a fun way to connect to those people who make up what I once heard referred to as your "middle circle of friends." There's the inner circle--close friends you regularly see. The extreme outer circle--your barista, cashier, pizza deliverer, etc.--the people you interact with, but only barely socially. And, this article I read (in the Atlantic?) talked about the people that most of us have really lost touch with during the pandemic is that our middle circle--the people we like and used to see very irregularly (in my case, at cons or in other SF related venues.) So, a lot of people on my postcard list are in this range, though there are a few what I've never met in meat space. 

The weather here has been cold and blowy, so it's been perfect for these kinds of things. I have a manuscript for the Loft that I should be reading, but I'm hoping to spend a lot of Thanksgiving vacation catching up with that.

Tomorrow night is gaming, so I have that to look forward to, too!

Last weekend was CONFABulous. I had a good time? I feel badly because, on the only panel that I was on, I was the least expert person on a two-person panel. There was a lot of, "Oh? I haven't read that!" which... I mean, was probably fine, but I did feel a bit like a goofball. I will say that my colleague, Jason Tucker, admirably picked up the slack, so I think, overall, it went very well. The panel may still be available to watch on YouTube, I have no idea.

The Thirsty Sword Lesbians game was a lot of fun, too. CONFABulous being the usual Gaylaxicon crowd meant that there was a dearth of obvious real life (tm) lesbians, but that didn't actually bother me in the least since one can not say what is in the hearts of the players. Goddess knows that I used (and use) RPGs as way to feel out all sort of things, not the least of which is getting to hear the pronouns I might prefer. The scenario I apparently cajoled tallgeese into running was the Les Beans coffeeshop collective, because, frankly, I wanted to know if you could actually have fun playing "let's fight the forces of gentrification." The answer appears to be a resounding YES! So, that was well worth it.

I'm a little concerned about this weekend's WindyCon, because I just got an email from them noting that they were planning on refunding virtual attendees since they were cutting down the virtual events.... um, given that I ASSUME I am part of said virtual events, this makes me a little nervous. I mean, it's kind of not a problem if I suddenly have the weekend to do weekend things instead of participating in a virtual con?  I guess we'll see what happens. 

In the meantime, out of the blue, I have decided to run a workshop on fan writing at Q-Quest 2021. On a Discord that I'm part of someone was looking for swag items for this event and I lamented that all my published work is kind of straight.... and then the next thing I knew I was sending in a proposal and a form to do a background check. I kind of don't quite know what happened, particularly since I basically just booked myself on my birthday. But, I think it will actually be fun. I am always happy to represent the Ancient Ones to the queer youth of today. I mean, in the case of the middle schoolers, it is possible that I came out (in 1987) before their parents were even born. 

It's been kind of a wild day so far. Because I also had to revise my description for a class I'll be teaching (if people sign up) at the Loft this winter (starting in January.) So, there has been a lot of work throwing itself at me today.

Otherwise, I didn't post yesterday or the day before because I've been writing non-stop on my lesbian novel. I had a needed epiphany and that kind of put me into high gear (which is good, since the deadline LOOMS LARGE.)

I should probably say something about things I've been reading, since it's that day, but right now I've got nothing.

How are you??

 

Despite not thinking I'd make it to the venue on time with Mason's complicated school schedule, I managed to arrive at the Strike Theater about five minutes to 8:00 pm. The Strike Theater is an interesting place. It's in a business incubator type complex in Northeast Minneapolis.

For folks not from around here, how do I describe the NE vibe? It tends to be arty, maybe even veering towards hipster, but definitely the sort of warehouse district vibe (even though, here in Minneapolis, NE is home to a lot of residential properties, too, a lot of post-WWII, economical style housing.)  

The exterior, which I did not get a good shot of, had a lot of neon lighting and a heavy-duty chain link fence around the front door? The shot I took is blurry, but I think you can get a gist of the place from it.


image: blurry shot of snow, neon, concrete, and chain link fences. Welcoming? Maybe if you're a spoken word poet.

The pictures I got of the interior of the door might give you a better sense of the place. I mean, when I go to places like this, I feel very... cool and sophisticated, you know? As a small(-ish) town Wisconsin girl, we didn't really have places much like this, except maybe the Pumphouse--which was also a warehouse converted into a theater, but... somehow more upscale? Or maybe this is one of those places that is upscale BECAUSE it is so down market? If I sound snarky, I'm not really trying to. I love these kinds of places and it really does make me feel very "big city."


image: EKIRTS (strike, backwards) above the steel and interior of the industrial steel doors and bank of leaded windows. 


image: lonely mike on an empty stage... can you feel the beat, fellas?

I mean, I think that's it. This is totally the kind of venue that I imagine Lenny Bruce performed in, you know? Only, if he were ever in Minneapolis... 

Anyway, the Not-So-Silent-Planet reading is an open mic. It's apparently one of the only speculative fiction open mic readings anywhere. Every time I agree to do this show, I wonder what kind of fool I am.... I whine about how I need to learn to say 'no,' how all my reading is garbage, how I can't believe there's going to be a BAND.... (yes, a group called Bad September played)

Then, I go, and I have an AMAZING time. 

One of the first performers set the scene by reading erotica generated by one of those learning AI programs. It was a HOOT. I laughed myself almost sick. The performers were punctuated by science fiction erotic haiku, if you can even imagine such a thing. People read poetry about succubus, stories involving space age PTSD and sex, and hot, hot ghost stories. I honesty felt bad being the final performer because once again (this happened last year with the amazing tentacle smut by Tom S. Tea) I was upstaged by a really funny, super-erotic story about the wife of Cerberus's poly amorous one-hour hook-up with a mortal. 

I ended up reading a sex scene from Tall, Dark & Dead (that ancient gem). I think it went okay, because I set-up well. First of all, Mason gave me the idea that if I was going to read straight smut, I sure really dress as stone-cold butch as possible.


image: me, attempting butch in the My Burger

I explained my outfit and then told the story of what happened the first time I handed out a straight sex scene to my writers' group, Wyrdsmiths. Many of you have heard this story before, but it goes like this: I am what used to be known in queer parlance as a "gold star lesbian," so I was VERY NERVOUS to be handing out a straight sex scene. When the critiques came back I was mostly assured that the sex was very sexy and such, but they said a curious thing. "Lyda," my group told me, "You forgot something." I'm wracking my brains thinking, okay, there was kissing, nakedness, orgasm, what could I have forgotten???? They looked me dead in the eye and said, "You forgot the penis."

Which... apparently is IMPORTANT to the straights??!!!

So, I tacked up a little note over my writing desk that read: REMEMBER THE PENIS.

Having set up the reading this way, I think it helped make what was otherwise a fairly straight (pun intended) forward sex scene more interesting, because when I read the bits that involved that particular set of genitalia I could make note of it and people laughed.

All and all a wonderful time. 

I am forever and always impressed with the quality of writers that exist in the Twin Cities. We really do live in an amazing town for this stuff. Brava, y'all. BRAVA.

Oh, hey, and if you want something completely different, don't forget I'll be at Dreamhaven tonight at 6:30 pm! http://dreamhavenbooks.com/event/speculations-event-lyda-morehouse/

First, I have to do a little whining. It's not real complaining mind you, just a little bit of shoulder shrugging at the world. Remember when I signed up for the International Pen Friends? I got this enormous list of people to write to--about fourteen or so names. I've spent the last couple of months writing individual letters to each of the people on the list. This has been an enormous amount of fun, mind you, even though I found the idea of an introductory letter a bit daunting. I mean, writing to strangers? It's a little weird because you want to say something interesting, but you have no idea what the other person might like to hear about.

But, that's not the part that I want to talk about.

I guess I assumed since i paid for a package of 15 people that the people on my list were it. My full 15. But, twice now, I've gotten letters from people NOT on my list. (One from Germany and another from France.) This is not a bad thing, not at all (both letter writers were absolutely delightful!), it's just... confusing. Does this mean, potentially, I could end up with over 30 pen friends? Like, did my name go out on 15 other lists?

I mean, in a way, this makes a certain amount of sense, right? Out of thirty people SOME of them will write. A couple of them might even become regulars--people I really hit it off with. I, of course, quickly replied to both my pen pals. I'm sure the pen pal in Germany is a little stunned. She sent me a happy little note and I replied with a copy of Tall, Dark & Dead IN GERMAN. (What? She said she loved to read!?)

It's a funny, thing, too, because both of the people I received notes from had a very standardized sort of introduction. "Hello, I am ____, I got your name from the International Pen Friends." I suspect I was probably supposed to start my letters that way. Instead, I just launched into all sorts of weird things, including drawing a map of the North American continent with a tiny dot near St. Paul labeled "me." I probably seemed very odd.

Which might explain why I haven't heard back from anyone I've written to yet.

Who knows. It's all a grand adventure. I do so love getting mail, so I've been enjoying running to the box to see what's in it, like I'm fifteen years old again. Oh, and if you're reading this and thinking, "Damn, I wish Lyda would write to me!" I totally will. You just have to send me your address: lyda.morehouse@gmail.com

In other news, I've decided that in the up-coming year I'm only going to read All the Gay. I thought I'd follow along with Gay YA's book club as much as humanly possible as well as hunting down other queer books to read. 2017 is going to be the year of Teh Gay. Everything will be super-fabulous and queer af. I think that is one of the many ways in which I'm going to deal with the incoming administration from Hell.  

Speaking of the incoming administration, I really wish I could afford to go to the Women's March on Washington.  I ran into someone at the coffee shop the other day who said that there's a scholarship to help pay for the bus ride there and back again.  If I could afford it, that would be cool. I've heard that the march is likely not to be very well organized, but, you know, having marched with a bunch of people on Lake Street I'm kind of figuring that'd be okay.  Very likely, however, I'm going to end up at the Minnesota State Capitol with a handful of women.  I say that like it's a bad thing, which it isn't, but it feels very missing out on a potentially awesome, historical moment.

Thoughts? Anyone I know going?