Tuesday, April 19, 2011

My Hoe-pinion is WRONG

Ah yes. Easter break. All is silent in the school for sinners. Leads me to think, as I no longer have to dole out detentions. And I've been thinking quite frequently over the last number of weeks, and in particular over the last weekend about my peers ideas of each other.... in particular the woman kind. You know, the ladies like. I exist in a realm of the world where I'm either consistently attending evenings where queer ladies and gentlemen boogie down with their bad selves, or else i frequent plenty of Burlesque events where both queer and bi and ghey and the heh-ero-sessssuals tend to at-tend in order to watch ladies get near nudey for their queerbigheyheherosessual thrills.

I've been thinking about all the stringent campaigns for equality that I've come across and taken part in, with regard to equal rights for all the sesssuals to love each other in their sessual ways, y'know? I've also been thinking about the contradictions I've then encountered in each of these worlds. Above board, these two worlds possess projections of addressing femininity and sexuality as something to celebrate, something to diversify, never to judge. What I've experienced has been somewhat different, however. Perhaps I expect too much from a country with foundations that are so completely conservative and unlike anything that I would accept in my own little mantra of my way of life, you know, of living and being nice and all that nice things and stuff, you know you know?(i fear i may be a little too ineloquent to take on the complexity of this subject matter, and perhaps should not have broached the subject whatsoever, as generally, i've found, my opinion IS WRONG. i'm ok with that, though.. i think. do you? oh no.)

Aaaaaaaaaaanywhooodle! Sure I'll power on with the opinions and all! Constantly in flux! La la la! (Read as: get out clause introductory portion of the paragraph, (SACH A WIMP!)). Friday evening, I attended a Burlesque event. I've become moderately less fond of Irish Burlesque if I'm perfectly honest. Perhaps, as my own experience of being part of that world, though it may have begun as a foray into projecting my own transformative self acceptance, it strangely led to an exodus in my own moderately successful introductory career (entry level tassle twirler, if you will) as I found performing at these events to be somewhat leery, irrationally competitive and I left with a general air of feeling hugely less confident and somewhat battered.

My personal opinion of the definition of Burlesque, as I have described before on this B to the LOG, (which of course you've been following BBZ!) is that of a subversive, coquetteish, playful method of utilising your own sexuality, taking control of it, and creating something be it beautiful, hilarious, disgusting, even outrageously sexy, but that it is your own, and is therefore empowering. My personal experience of Burlesque in Ireland has been disgustingly, outrageously... disappointing. The air of insecurity so palpable in my little experience in a certain London Burlesque club, is seeped throughout the Dublin Burlesque scene. I'm convinced I'll never be employed by them again, (eh NOT THAT I'D WANT TO REALLY, soz babes, I dumped ya firsty!) particularly after publicly projecting my disdain for how they have behaved in recent months. To say that they have treated me as a lower citizen as I am not a yoga instructor/professionally trained dancer/size eight is a complete truth. To say that I admired them all hugely is also a complete truth. To say that that admiration has dwindled is also, sadly TRUUUUE! Much as I admire what SOME of them do, I do not admire the way that they behaved. To me. And to others that I had the misfortune to publicly witness on Friday evening.

THAT SAID, there are a number of events which I fully support, such as Scarlett Nymphs wonderful work in making Doctor Sketchy's unmissable and the introduction of the heavily queer Black Rabbit Cabaret, and also, naturally, anything Bunny's Hutch does turns into a russian roullette of tentative mystery, being the only open-mic cabaret night I've ever witnessed... my attendance at other burlesque or cabaret events has completely dwindled... Reason being, I'm not sure I want to witness people performing who seem to have an ethic of marginilisation.........WHICH........brings me to my second IRK, of which I've been thinking...

The following article;
is a sneering post which is everything I dislike about the judgemental capacities of queer women against each other. Particularly those who may have been slower to come out, and seeing as their curiousity is welcomed so warmly I can't see why they'd have any difficulty with that! No no. I am aware that bisexuality can be utilised as a marketing tool, that it adds intrigue and salaciousness to an interview, I am also aware that the response to people proposing their thoughts about bisexuality is completely undercut by appalling displays of discrimination such as the above post. Not that she's intentionally being discriminational(IS THAT A WORD?), I mean, it's amusing, as a post... but I feel being amused at things, unless you're laughing at yourself, can be a little naive, particularly when it places itself in the forum of being offensive to someone of a marginilised sexuality. OH I DUNNO. It's just so limiting. So tense. So completely judgemental.

Classification seems so necessary in a still conservative Ireland.... that I think I'm classifying myself as generally irritated by everyone at this point. Much as in my aforementioned quest for equality, I am EQUALLY professing my disdain for those people proclaiming to operate under an alternative form of sexuality, and yet coming across as childish irritants so insecure with their own status that they must belittle others. HOWEVER, perhaps I'm now completely contradicting myself by expressing my irritation at them via the W W W (worldwideweb babes!), perhaps I need too to be accepting of those who feel such an anxiety about their own sexual power that they must behave appallingly. NAH. Think I'll just glare at them in a silent disdainful cowardly way....IT'S MY ULTIMATE WEAPON. Dark. Mystery. Then I'll blog about them. LOOK. I'm so mean. And all because of baby jeeebus being a zombaby jesus and my having time to think. Bet you're sorry now Easter Bunny.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Employed Monkey seeks Creative Respite in Beauty.

I have a job nowadays! Oh my. A vee biz job. So biz I now do things like go to bed at a reasonable hour during the week, my stringent binge drinking aerobics programme has decreased significantly, aaaand I am now in possession of DUCHESS THE BICYCLE as a result...

...is that a swoon I hear? WAS THAT JUST ME? I would happily lick her entire body she's such a ridebox is my Duchess. I do, however, feel a little silly on her sometimes. I fear she's a little TOO COOL for me. Such is life. Aim high and that. To be cool - live cool. La la la! loo! (that's a song I wrote there. to the theme of the fame soundtrack. all while smoking - did you hear smoking is cool? who knew? *sexy cough, followed by sexy spit of phlegm.)

My new job is an exceptionally busy administrational job (BBZ!HIGHFIVES!CU@DUNDRUMTOWNCENTREFORLATTÉS!). Not quite so busy today unfortunately as I HAVE FALLEN INTO A DEATHLY DEPRESSION. Clearly my lack of commitment to my binge drinking aerobical regime now lends itself to HEAVIER, MORE FEARFUL HANGOVERS. Not forgetting that I can now afford to buy double Gins, which is employment's primary downside, IF WE'RE HONEST.

Anyway, the inexplicably broken portion of my little heart which has plaited my intestines into beautiful intricate knots akin to those fetching dreadlocks I used to possess...(*gazes regretfully into misspent youth*)...have abandoned the glamorous world of filing, arranging pens and typing letters in an effort to seek out something beautiful.

Naturally I typed beauty into my gmail, as we all do in our quest for beauty..., by sifting through outrageous gchat conversations with my outrageous gchat friends... This is when I stumbled upon the following quote, which clearly I collected carefully and utilised wisely (siiiiiiiiiiigh, a youth, MISSPENT, dreading locks, typing irresponsibly...well. still do that...) it was untitled, in my drafts... and it is quite beautiful. I did a quick search in my GOOD OL' PAL JStor and discovered that it was from an essay by Alexander Nehamas entitled "The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters" on Francisco Goya's work. And I think it's a pretty accurate explanation of my frame of mind on this MONUMENTAL HORRIFIC AND YET WEIRDLY BEAUTIFUL DAY. (see me at my desk in image below as portrayed by my old buddy Goya.)

"Beauty is to be defended without social utility or moral improvement, without pretending that it is worth loving because in the long run it produces superior citizens, kinder individuals, or more skilled nuerosurgeons. Beauty, instead, makes life better - because it is an emblem of our inability to say in general what makes life better. Some might think of that as a weakness, but it is not. It is the other face of strength, of the capacity to bring new, unexpected, surprising and previously inconceivable goodness - which is not to say moral virtue - to life. Beauty stands and speaks for everything that adds to the complexity, interest, and range of possibilities of human life in ways that couldn't have been imagined before. It is a promise, and for that reason also a danger, and valuable just because of that combination."