Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Scraping off the plate, getting chalk up on the slate... soaking up, wringing out, getting loud loud LOUD.

Blah blah blah, ok, ok... so... I haven't really been bloggy with it since I FULLY intended to do so again back in FEBRUARY already, for crying out loud. Of course I decided it would be a great idea to express as much to like, everyone I know... kind of like when that friend of yours decides to quit smoking and figures that blabbing about it will create some sort of positive peer pressure support incentive not to start again... but really, it just makes the friend feel kinda silly should she ultimately fails and starts smoking again. I am SO that girl. Except you know, cuter.

Anyway, in all fairness, my plate's been REALLY full of shit for the last few years, and unfortunately by "shit" I don't ACTUALLY mean "cheese" (a reality which I feel is total effing bullcrap). Nope, the "shit" I refer to is the "shit" that finds itself on your to-do list when you somehow convince yourself that you can helm several billion community / arts / groups / sass projects and simultaneously manage to sleep properly, eat properly, stay organized, continue to grow as an artist, maintain your personal relationships, pay your rent and oh yeah, rock hot new outfits dripping in your homecooked dopesauce. To think it took me four fucking years to realize that none of this was actually possible without a team of about 10 billion Cabana boyz, who in all fairness should probably be delegated to single moms instead of narcissistic party promoter diva bitches. Fuck fuck fuck. Teddy must have been making some strong-ass cocktails behind that red sparkly bar of ours for me to lose touch so fully and completely... oh yeah, HE WAS. And LOOK, see? "Blogging" wasn't even anywhere on the list!

HOWEVER. I actually do feel like I'm finally managing to permanently scrape some of the shit off my plate so I can catch my breath a bit and remember what it feels like to be a real human who likes to take walks, make brown-rice spaghetti, and rant randomly online about whatever amuses her or pisses her off. Turns out a grrl feels more inclined to do so when she has free time to actually THINK about stuff. I know, SHOCKING, huh.

Turns out also that a grrl tends to turn out better work when she feels inspired and all spongy, which is DEFINITELY how I felt after coming home from New York City about three weeks ago. I felt like a new woman on only a slightly altered mission. It made me realize even more that Vancouver is such a baby city... a beautiful city that I love, despite its need of a severe ass-lighting... and that the fight we fight to expand and deepen the culture / arts communities here is an age-old battle that has been fought and won and reflected in cities all over the globe... we're just a little behind is all. One day it will be possible for me to sustainably apply what I've learned in the last two years as a party promoter, festival producer and venue owner... but interestingly enough, I think that will be the day I'll no longer have to fight my way up from the underground. In the meantime, I plan to relish in the current rawness of it all. And I think maybe that means it's a good time for me to get some shit out on stage, or on a record, or on this blog, or wherever. So it's where I'm at... I just hope I can put my mouth where my brain is. I think I just sort of have to, because otherwise I don't really seem to work properly... I just feel sort of broken. Time for some renovations and a couple of good artistic fixes.

Speaking of which, lately I'm loving just letting burlettas come out however they want to... sometimes I feel like singing, sometimes stripping or strutting, or all three, sometimes rhyming or even just MCing the show in the classic sense with introducing the acts and hosting. And sometimes I NEED to create a new mohawk headdress or to tightlace into a corset... but then sometimes it's not so much the craftsmanship of what I'm wearing so much as the idea that it creates the desired effect for the piece, or even that I just get off on raging garters and an outrageous plastic jacket I giggled over in a bargain basement thrift shop. The point is that I'm open to whatever seems entertaining or interesting, and letting stuff go where it wants and develop into its own aesthetic and its own genre organically and all my own. And I really like where it's going, much more, I think, than if I was driving at something specifically.

It's almost like, you know, being an artist or something. ;)