A bizarre series of events caused me to log into Friendster fro the the first time in 3 years. What I found was like an archaeological dig into the distant history of my own life. I feel that I used to be a very different person, you see. Not too long ago, even; these past three years have been a strange and prickly artichoke for me. As for Friendster, I didn't spend too long there; it was too intense. Archaeologist, cum grave-robber, cum colonialist, I took the easiest and most useful plunder and ran. I came away with some old long red hair pirate pictures and a slew of testimonials from old friends and former lovers.
Warning: I am terribly nostalgic. I love to love, and continue to hold people and things in my hands and my heart. While I am not ruled by my past and my memories I am undeniably shaped and often very grateful for them. I can take a break from loving; actively, daily, someone present and before me, but I have no intention of ever stopping. My heart is a very large home with a special little room for each most cherished person and even many of my favorite belongings, whether they are still tangible in my life or not, and there seems to be no limit to the space for new additions. It may be both my blessing and my curse. A wife should know these things before hand, I would think.
If you can't understand or relate to that, if you find yourself telling people to "get over it" you probably shouldn't continue to read, and we probably will not get along.
What can I say; I like it deep.
So here are some things that people I've loved and who presumably once loved me have said about me in the past. Remember, these are more often than not some of the better things said, and said about a me who is not quite the me who is today. But if not for direct reference or referral, I thought these statements might give some small insight into the me that others see, or at very least the writing skills of my beloveds. There might not be any very recent quotations, perhaps because of the relative dearth of recent partners, perhaps because some wounds are too fresh, perhaps because my more recent slightly more moderate behavior has not been quite as inspiring for writing or memorable comment, perhaps because I quit online social-networking sites about 2 years ago. So here is a slight glimpse into the not-so-distant past. I see that my life used to be much more full of men and boys, nancy- , though they may be. I see that I don't have many memories of sound-bites from the loves of the last few years. Maybe I will remember, or maybe it doesn't matter...
"Sex artist extraordinaire"
-SF Weekly, 2007*
*To the best of my knowledge I neither love nor am particularly beloved by anyone at the SF Weekly, I am just inordinately proud of this quotelet they printed about me this Fall.
"Sadie is a sane woman trapped inside an insane woman's mind."
-Tim Kreider around 2004
"Elegant and Floppy."
-Kyrstyn, 2002
"Best girlfriend ever!"
-anonymous (no doubt opinion has been revised since) 2004
"I have no doubt she will be a revolutionary"
-Angel, 2002
" the third time i saw her, she peed on
my boot. what more needs to be said?"
* Pale Eddie
* Posted 09/9/2003 12:10 am
" * Forces of nature come big and small.
Some might say that Sadie is like a
hurricane, but there's a smaller force
of nature that I find to be a more apt
metaphor. Sadie is a catalyst. Not
that she doesn't do her own thing, but
her doing of her own thing brings big
big change into the world. She's
magnetic, hilarious, loving, and
brave. My life was absolutely changed
for the better by this altogether
beautiful wunderkind."
-Jason 2003
"* Turbocharged electrocutie who walks
carefully around powerful magnets and
gets naked at the slightest
provocation. Can drink you (though not
me) under the table. Will turn boys to
men (and sometimes women) just by
walking through the room. Cooks
delicious meals with love and cheese.
Generous about sharing her life of
adventure and ridiculousness with
anyone who has the wisdom to ask.
Laughs at my jokes, thereby
demonstrating good taste. A quality
fleshie."
- Rev. Dr. Splashy-Pants, 2003
"Ladies and gentlemen, grrls and bois, allow me
to introduce the lovely Pirate Redbits, a
fabulous, demanding spectacle of a woman.
"Elegantly floppy!" cry the Baltimorons.
"Excessively froppy!" shouts the Dobbs-head.
"Frequently toppy!" exclaim a chorus of
simpering subs.
To which I say "all this and more." Much, much
more: Pirate Redbits contains multitudes,
attitudes, natty snoods, shady 'ludes and
eight-hundred-and-eighty moods. The
proverbial "tall drink of water" except that
someone's switched the water with grog, and
she's drunk it all. Flamboiant, debauched
socialite, her milkshake brings all the boys
_and_ girls to the yard and they're like...
Well, you _know_ what they're like.
Pirate Redbits, how do I love thee? Let me
count the ways.
- Polish (Polish!)
- Beautiful
- Inspiring
- Smart
- Brave
- Absinthe Connisseur
- Burner
- Pansexual, Polyamorous Sex Worker
- Patient
- Giddy
- Stupid
- Creative
- Sexy
- A merciless right hook
- Adventurous
- The Original DRS #1
- Still Polish
- Piratical
- Organizer
- Responsible
- Dizzy
- Sensual
- Loonaps!
- One-time co-habitant (see above: brave
and/or stupid)
- The best-dressed woman in any room
- The best-undressed woman in any room
- A good friend of Devon (that dashing rake)
- Splendiferous
- Vociferous
- Bold
- Tasty
- Redbits (w00t!)
- Pierced and inked
- "On Our Backs" centerfold girl (Dec/Jan '04)
- Pleasure Activist
- Haight Street Dreidel Club
- Petite Louis
- Goat-beard braider
- SF's official Naughtiest Schoolgirl
- Giselle
- Travels in France
- Storytime
- Fancy
- Loving
- Queer
- Crafty
- Cook
- Kinky
- Intercontinental Ballistic Sex Bomb
- Geek (or at least geek-friendly)
- Costume queen
- Curvy
- Supportive
- Incindiary
- Unstoppable
And oh-so-much more. Impossible to imagine
what my life would be like now without you, so
greatly have you perturbed the dimensions and
limits of my already strange universe. And I'm
far from the only one who can say this. You're
the Erisian force made manifest, a "fountain of
blood in the shape of a girl". A sexual
singularity, embodying both Lolita, Mrs.
Robinson and all points and forms in-between
simultaneously. And beyond: obliterating the
bi-polar gender axis, your identity and desire
exceeds the poor boundaries of language. In
both essence and action you are a true
revolutionary and an inspiration, loonaps and
all.
Xoxoxxx"
-Aaron, probably 2003
Showing posts with label girlfriend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girlfriend. Show all posts
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Monday, December 10, 2007
My First Partial Offer
Well this weekend marked a milestone for SLWaW and a number of them for me, personally, but the most relevant of them was that I got a partial, mostly joking, potential offer for a maybe wife.
Someday.
She is gorgeous, over 20 years my senior, the girlfriend of dear friends of mine, and lives out of town. So there are some potential drawbacks (mostly the out of town part) and also a great deal more of getting-to-know in ways other than biblical. The road to wifey is neither short nor easy, well, at least it hasn't been for me. But I feel much encouraged by even casual interest in my proposition. It's exciting!
It reminds me of the rule I learned in my Arts Administration for the Independent Artist class (thank you Krista DeNio!): the guideline for promotion is a 10-1 ratio. If you flyer for an event, about 1 out of every 10 people who pick up a flyer will show up. Now I know that marriage is a little more specialized of an event than a Hanukkah-themed burlesque circus, or a plague of masturbating Pee-wees, at least in this town, but I figure after several hundred, or no more than a few thousand drunken offers of"oh, I'll be your wife!", something has got to pan out.
(The lovely lady in question was not drunk by the way, that's just how I envision future encounters or offers emerging: them drunk and clinging to their seething date, me Charlie Chaplining it out of there.)
Wow, I was just about to get so 90's lesbo. Well, I've been accused of being a 90's lesbo before, so I might as well go for it. What I was going to say was: as the fine film 'Go Fish'* taught us, "The Girl Is Out There."
So, one down, countless more to go. Hooray for the first, not-totally-single, step.
*As a 16 year old living in Baltimore, I went to the local small art theater no less than 3 times when Go Fish was in the theater. I clearly remember one time arranging for a mixed group of boy-girl couples and friends to go with me so I wouldn't seem so damn gay, though I'm unclear about to whom. (Same thing with 'The Incredibly True Story of Two Girls In Love'. As far as media went, if there were ladies who liked ladies, I ate it up, though I remember being a little confused at the time by the boxing butch.) Even at 16, I identified most with the butchy lethario, Daria. After at least one of my gleeful viewings I went, by myself, to the cute dyke cafe, the now defunct 'Cafe Diana'. My head swimming with Guinevere Turner's comely image, I got myself tea and cake and sat there amongst the lavender walls, glowing with feelings of satisfied lesbianism, about to burst with my own queerness, dying for someone to talk to me. Of course, no one ever talked to me, I must have looked like some very strange kid who (as Irene and I say about dudes in suits at the Lex, the local dyke bar) 'didn't know where I was'.
It turns out that I never really got the hang of 'lesbianism', per se, sexually I'm too curious and flexible, though I may be one in spirit. But it was the 90's, in Baltimore, and I still refused to say 'fag' out of respect and hadn't ever met a transperson yet and was desperately in love with my best friend and didn't even know I was goth. So lesbians, wherever I could get them, see them, be around them trying silently to make them love me, were it for me. No wonder I'm a 90's lesbian, I never really got to be one when that was all the queer I knew. Well, another psychological mystery solved. Ima go listen to some Ani.
Someday.
She is gorgeous, over 20 years my senior, the girlfriend of dear friends of mine, and lives out of town. So there are some potential drawbacks (mostly the out of town part) and also a great deal more of getting-to-know in ways other than biblical. The road to wifey is neither short nor easy, well, at least it hasn't been for me. But I feel much encouraged by even casual interest in my proposition. It's exciting!
It reminds me of the rule I learned in my Arts Administration for the Independent Artist class (thank you Krista DeNio!): the guideline for promotion is a 10-1 ratio. If you flyer for an event, about 1 out of every 10 people who pick up a flyer will show up. Now I know that marriage is a little more specialized of an event than a Hanukkah-themed burlesque circus, or a plague of masturbating Pee-wees, at least in this town, but I figure after several hundred, or no more than a few thousand drunken offers of"oh, I'll be your wife!", something has got to pan out.
(The lovely lady in question was not drunk by the way, that's just how I envision future encounters or offers emerging: them drunk and clinging to their seething date, me Charlie Chaplining it out of there.)
Wow, I was just about to get so 90's lesbo. Well, I've been accused of being a 90's lesbo before, so I might as well go for it. What I was going to say was: as the fine film 'Go Fish'* taught us, "The Girl Is Out There."
So, one down, countless more to go. Hooray for the first, not-totally-single, step.
*As a 16 year old living in Baltimore, I went to the local small art theater no less than 3 times when Go Fish was in the theater. I clearly remember one time arranging for a mixed group of boy-girl couples and friends to go with me so I wouldn't seem so damn gay, though I'm unclear about to whom. (Same thing with 'The Incredibly True Story of Two Girls In Love'. As far as media went, if there were ladies who liked ladies, I ate it up, though I remember being a little confused at the time by the boxing butch.) Even at 16, I identified most with the butchy lethario, Daria. After at least one of my gleeful viewings I went, by myself, to the cute dyke cafe, the now defunct 'Cafe Diana'. My head swimming with Guinevere Turner's comely image, I got myself tea and cake and sat there amongst the lavender walls, glowing with feelings of satisfied lesbianism, about to burst with my own queerness, dying for someone to talk to me. Of course, no one ever talked to me, I must have looked like some very strange kid who (as Irene and I say about dudes in suits at the Lex, the local dyke bar) 'didn't know where I was'.
It turns out that I never really got the hang of 'lesbianism', per se, sexually I'm too curious and flexible, though I may be one in spirit. But it was the 90's, in Baltimore, and I still refused to say 'fag' out of respect and hadn't ever met a transperson yet and was desperately in love with my best friend and didn't even know I was goth. So lesbians, wherever I could get them, see them, be around them trying silently to make them love me, were it for me. No wonder I'm a 90's lesbian, I never really got to be one when that was all the queer I knew. Well, another psychological mystery solved. Ima go listen to some Ani.
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