Tyler Yoder's Blog, page 11

Music Monday: Santa Baby

An actual ukulele video? What madness is this, Gentle Reader?

Well, I was in the holiday spirit, and thinking of Mr. Darling. Sweetie, this one’s for you. Now, I’m no Eartha Kitt, and I do flub a few times – but I *did* just learn this song this morning, after all. Cheers, everyone! And happy December first!

Tagged: Eartha Kitt, Music Monday, Santa Baby, Tyler J. Yoder, Ukulele Covers, Ukulele Vids

Poetic Interlude LXXXVI

The person this is for knows who she is. Everyone else, enjoy!

To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevel Her Hair
By Richard Lovelace
 
Amarantha sweet and fair
Ah! Braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee let it fly.
 
Let it fly as unconfin’d
As its calm ravisher, the wind,
Who hath left his darling th’East,
To wanton o’er that spicy nest.
 
Ev’ry tress must be confest
But neatly tangled at the best;
Like a clue of golden thread,
Most excellently ravelled.
 
Do not then wind up that light
In ribands, and o’er-cloud in night;
Like the sun in’s early ray,
But shake your head and scatter day.
 
See ’tis broke! Within this grove
The bower, and the walks of love,
Weary lie we down and rest,
And fan each other’s panting breast.
 
Here we’ll strip and cool our fire
In cream below, in milk-baths higher:
And when all wells are drawn dry,
I’ll drink a tear out of thine eye,
 
Which our very joys shall leave
That sorrows thus we can deceive;
Or our very sorrows weep,
That joys so ripe, so little keep.
Tagged: I Love Lace, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Richard Lovelace, Shake Your Head And Scatter Day, To Amarantha That She Would Dishevel Her Hair

Post the Hundred and Thirty-Second: Friendsgiving

I hope your holiday was swell, Gentle Reader, if you’re American. If you’re not – well, I hope you had a decent Thursday, and hearing all about America’s self-obsession. I also hope you’re not punishing yourself by going out shopping today. I’m not, but by the time you read these words, I’ll be right in the thick of the crowd, travelling by bus to Ms. Capere’s place, Tranquility Base.

Why would I dare such a thing, on this, the most crowded, unpleasant day to be in public? Because of friendship. Friendship is magic, you know.

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, the Friday after Thanksgiving is traditionally Friendsgiving at Ms. Capere’s. It’s exactly what it sounds like, and it’s something I’m rather thankful for, myself. It’s a great way to catch up with those whose busy lives might keep them apart, and to destress, unwind, after a typically fraught family function. Miss Spectacular will be there, and Mr. Darling, and all sorts of old friends. I’m sure I’ll have a story or six to tell by the end of the night. I’d rather celebrate friendship, fidelity, than fiduciary folderol any day, anyway.

Thank you for sticking around, Gentle Reader. I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other this last year. On this Friendsgiving, I’m thankful for you.

Tagged: holidays, Not a Real Post, Rambling Nonsense, ReRuns, Tacoma

You might want to rethink that comment you are about to post about Ferguson, MO

Tyler J. Yoder:

This struck so many chords. Please read this blogger’s thoughts on the on-going events in Ferguson, Missouri.

Originally posted on beccyjoy:

I, like you, am heartbroken about what happened to Michael Brown, and what’s happened to so many others. I have read the posts, watched the videos, and prayed for justice and peace. It is so sickening that it’s hard to sleep. I have so much to learn about how I should even think about these tragedies and I am choosing to listen rather than express my opinions about most of this issue.

The part I do feel I understand well enough to speak to is the invalidating commentary by my fellow white people.

People of privilege, aka white people, aka my friends and family,

I know you might think your comments are harmless, or maybe you think it is fun to debate or “play the devil’s advocate,” but please keep in mind that in a land not so far away, people…teenagers even, are actually dying over this.

You might mean well…

View original 448 more words

Post the Hundredth: Thanksgiving Gratitude

In America, Gentle Reader, tomorrow is Thanksgiving – and you know what that means: an obligatory post about Gratitude! Here are some of the things that I’m thankful for:

My mother’s safe return from Istanbul just as protests begin heating up over there.
To have a chance to reclaim some of my family’s treasures from the forces of nature and entropy before Maman sells Arvingdale.

The love and support of some very dear, very old friends. You know who you are, and I wouldn’t have made it through this year without you.
That I’m not in Europe at the moment; it’s very cold, several countries are in chaos, and I’d be living rough, as they say. I don’t think I could manage a life on the road in the winter.
The mid-century aesthetic that’s so popular just now.

That I finally tried my hand at painting. I’m enjoying it far too much.
The memories I have of loved ones who are gone
Little unlooked-for luxuries that turn up unexpectedly, like when someone unexpectedly brings a hookah to a function and I hadn’t even realized that I missed smoking hookah until it’s unpacked from its case.
My taste in clothing, though a trifle peculiar – it suits me, and brings me joy.

Musicals, and music in general – making music, listening to others making music, spontaneously bursting into song: music carries me through each day.
You, my Gentle Readers. I’m thankful for you.

There are many things going on in the world at large that bring me to tears, and of course my little life has been a trifle difficult of late, but it’s important to remember the things that bring you happiness, that buoy you up, that make life possible. Happy Thanksgiving, Gentle Reader.

Tagged: Bygone Days, Gratitude, holidays, Thanksgiving, What I'm Thankful For

Music Monday: Grey Gardens

I know I’m late to the party on this, Gentle Reader, but I’m really glad I made it – the party is so spectacular, and … really resonates just at the moment. I am, of course, talking about the musical sensation called Grey Gardens.

I had, of course, heard of Grey Gardens a number of years ago, and how popular it seemed to be – my research at the time only turned up the documentary about the aunt and maiden cousin of Jackie Kennedy Onassis, living in a dilapidated 28-room mansion with 52 cats and some lovely raccoons. They had grown a trifle eccentric, shall we say, in their isolation, shall we say. While the film does have certain charms, I didn’t understand why the mid-seventies documentary Grey Gardens – named after their decaying pile – was making waves.

It’s because, of course, it had been turned into a musical. Which I highly recommend. It’s available in 14 parts on youtube, which I, in turn, present here to you. Happy listening, Gentle Reader.

Tagged: Decaying Mansions, Edie Bouvier Beale, Edith Bouvier Beale, Fifty-Two Cats, Grey Gardens, Little Edie, Music Monday

Poetic Interlude LXXXV

God’s World

By Edna St. Vincent Millay
 
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!

Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!

Thy mists that roll and rise!

Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag

And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag

To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!

World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!Long have I known a glory in it all,

But never knew I this;

Here such a passion is

As stretcheth me apart, — Lord, I do fear

Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;

My soul is all but out of me, — let fall

No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Tagged: Awe, Beauty, Edna St. Vincent Millay, God's World, Nature, Poetic Interludes, Poetry

Poetic Interlude XC

God’s World

By Edna St. Vincent Millay
 
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!

Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!

Thy mists that roll and rise!

Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag

And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag

To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!

World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,

But never knew I this;

Here such a passion is

As stretcheth me apart, — Lord, I do fear

Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;

My soul is all but out of me, — let fall

No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Tagged: Awe, Beauty, Edna St. Vincent Millay, God's World, Nature, Poetic Interludes, Poetry

Post the Hundred and Twenty-Ninth: Transgender Day Of Remembrance

Gentle Reader, November 20 was the Transgender Day of Remembrance. I was hoping strongly, when I got home from work, to see a number of posts across social media from my friends on the topic, and I was disappointed – a handful mentioned it. Myself? I did, and I shared a few articles, a few memes on the subject – but nowhere could I find a comprehensive list of transgender murder victims over the last year – the people we’re lighting candles for, and supposed to be remembering, honoring, and in whose memories we are purportedly working.

I find that appalling. I’m not that blogger, and I don’t have the slightest idea of where to begin to compile such a list. But it’s not an original idea – lists exist for 2012 and 2013 – and I would have liked to read a small profile on each victim, each death, and how their families and loved ones are coping in the aftermath. 

At any rate, Gentle Reader, here’s my piece from a year ago. My knowledge and views have grown since I wrote this – as I would hope they would over the course of a year! – but it still seems poignant. Educate yourselves, and educate your friends, your associates, your loved ones and acquaintances. It’s important. Lives may, in fact, be saved. 

 

Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance, Gentle Reader, during which we remember and mourn the hundreds of human beings who were brutally murdered for being true to themselves. This violence occurs daily, and death is frequently the result.

It’s frequently asserted that lesbians, gay men, and bisexuals ignore the transgender in LGBT. It’s true, too – and worse than just ignoring our allies, a lot of the hate directed at transfolk comes from the L, G, and B. It’s appalling – only this year, in America, was transgender included in the wording of ENDA, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, which has continually failed since it was first introduced, years ago. Not being fired is an important right, and I’m glad that folks in the community are starting to grudgingly pay attention to our transgender friends, but I’m pretty sure that not living in fear of being brutally murdered is something that should also be addressed.

A lot of cisgender† people are confused about the very concept of being transgender; I have to admit that, being cis myself, I can’t answer that question with any degree of authority or accuracy. I’ve never had those experiences; I don’t know what that struggle is like. All I can do is empathize, based on my own experiences, and do my best to be a good ally – to take what the trans community says at face value, treat them with respect, and try to be a good ally. This doesn’t mean that I won’t get things wrong – I know for a fact that I will – but I can do my best to get things right, and apologize when I fuck up. Sometimes, though, that isn’t good enough.

For example, in my most recent relationship, my partner came out to me as trans. I was taken by surprise, and I tried to be supportive – but I know I frequently misgendered her during the process. There were some other issues going on with the relationship, but I can see now that while I was being supportive, I was going about it in entirely the wrong way. I was still trying to impose my worldview on hers. I’m sorry, my dear; I’ve educated myself since then.

Or there’s the time when my cousin M. came to an art show that I had a piece in. She had come out to the family as trans* after Grandpa passed – I was so proud of her! At this point, I had educated myself quite a bit more about the trans* community and deemed myself a better ally. Nevertheless, despite M. presenting as female, and my knowledge and respect of her journey, I still slipped up a few times, misgendering her as well. She calmly corrected me, with a smile, and waved it away with a flick of her wrist, but I know that it’s something she has to deal with every day, and if I, a purported ally, still slip up, what hope is there? Sorry, darling, and thank you for understanding.

The founder of the Transgender Day of Remembrance, Gwendolyn Ann Smith, wrote an article today, which was featured on the Huffington Post. She has this to say:

“Anyone can potentially fall victim to anti-transgender violence. Transgender-identified people and others whose gender identity or expression does not fit the typical binary are who you may think of first, but anyone who is perceived as not being “masculine” or “feminine” enough for their attackers is at risk.

Cases of anti-transgender violence have affected people of all ages, from newborn to elderly, and go across all sexual identities, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. There’s no “magical” way to be protected from anti-transgender violence.”

I’m not sure what I think about that. At face value, I think that it’s absolutely true, that cisgender people suffer anti-trans* violence, in the same way a young straight boy who lisps will probably suffer anti-gay violence. Despite the fact that I can absolutely see her point as true, I worry that she only mentions this because the rest of the community largely doesn’t care what happens to transfolk. She’s casting her net more widely, telling us that it can happen to us, to get our attention piqued. That’s my fear, anyway.

Gentle Reader, we all need to be there for each other, and support equality for all. I know this post is long-winded and a little disjointed, but I hope I’ve made you question yourself, or the world, just a little. Let’s take a moment to contemplate the deaths of all those who died such tragic, unnecessary, deaths, and to try to make the world a more understanding place.

*********

*A special note, here, G.R. – the term “trans*” typically includes an asterisk at the end, so for purposes of this post, the asterisk does not refer to a footnote. Well, except for this. Damn. You get the idea.

†Cisgender is the state of having your genitals match your identity. I should note that Cis and Trans* are not opposite poles of a binary system, or even goalposts on a spectrum, they’re just two of the more common gender markers.

Also, the cute drawing about pronouns comes from here, and I don’t own it. NSFW, probably.

Tagged: Cisgender, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, LGBT, Pride, QUILTBAG, Transgender, Transgender Day of Remembrance

Post the Ninety-Ninth: In Which There Are Vampires

For some reason, Gentle Reader, the photos from La Fête Sanguinaire  - party held in 2008 – exploded all over FaceBook once again this last week. Let’s revisit the last grand winter affair of the Fabulous Party Association.

Gentle Reader, you may remember me mentioning that the last grand gala of the F.P.A. was La Fête Sanguinaire. It had been scheduled for the winter solstice, but due to the untimely death of my father on the first of November – right in the crush of planning and set construction* – we were forced to delay La Fête, for obvious and good reasons. However, we still had a number of guests anxious for some sort of evening out, and so we decided to host a Vamp-In, at one of the local hometown bars.

Now, Gig Harbor has a very peculiar atmosphere – it’s somewhere between frat-boy and socialite, and can’t decide precisely what it wants to be. The Hy-Iu-Hee-Hee, which has been standing in the Harbor for absolute ages, caters to both crowds; it’s a local institution, and a popular nightspot, being one of the few businesses in town that stays open after five.

 

Though popular with the old guard – the well-known, highly-respected families that have populated the Harbor for many years† – it is also popular with the barely-twenty-ones, as until nine p.m., their still-underage friends can join them for a taste of bar atmosphere, with the pool table and darts.  In short, it is populated by dude-bros of all ages. Observe:

Well, on the date in question, we decided that this would be the perfect venue to appear at, dressed as children of the night. You may question the wisdom of our decision – I certainly did – but what’s life without a little risk? Further, we were to travel to the Rocky Horror Picture Show afterward, and could always use that as our excuse. No matter! We appeared, at the bar; Miss K had allowed me to spend three hours turning fifteen sheer burgundy curtains into a bustle-gown for her‡, and I appeared like this:

Snuff is classy, folks. Stay in school.

At any rate, there we were – the two dozen of us who had made it to the replacement event. We were ostentatious, we drawled incomprehensibly in our false accents, we said “I do not drink… Vine” approximately seven hundred times, and were generally obnoxious – to the surprising delight of everyone in the bar. Apparently, rather than rushing for their anticipated pitchforks and torches, the townsfolk appreciate an unexpected touch of whimsy here and there. Who knew?

*********

* I am almost entirely certain that I’ve mentioned this part before – when the coroner came, he was very confused, and had some questions to ask me about the coffin I was building in the back yard. Timing is everything, kids.

†The sort of family that includes my Uncle R and the sort of family that Maman came from§.

‡No pictures of this gown survive, or so I am forced to assume, because an angry Miss K is a fearsome thing.

§The sort of family that tells people when they have “married down” in fact.

Tagged: Coffins, Dude-Bros, Gig Harbor, Gig Harbor Washington, Hy Iu Hee Hee, Society, Vampires