Tyler Yoder's Blog, page 23

Post the Forty-Ninth: The Whimsical Forest Surprise (OR: The Leavenworth Trip: Part Three)

I believe I left you with the Lizard-Friend* auspiciously pointing us into the forest, towards a hidden bridge, Gentle Reader.

 Naturally we took the Lizard-Friend’s advice and toddled into the woods, where we began picking flowers along the trail.

This will be important, later.

I was determined, on this expedition, to fulfill a duty I’d assigned myself:

The Task: Create a Whimsical Forest Surprise.

The Execution:  Well, we hadn’t been able to buy supplies to build bio-degradable fairies and suspend them as we were hoping to in Plain, Washington, and I thought that I might have to give up on this task before we even got to the woods. However, after crossing the charming little bridge, deep in the forest, we stumbled across a treehouse.

I began to feel a little bit more hopeful. There was also a teepee constructed of sticks, and a number of little platforms, gazebos, and shelters along the river – curious, considering that we’d hiked through the wilderness for about an hour to reach the spot. We wandered riverward, hoping to get some respite from the heat of the day. And then:

Somebody had been building cairns inexpertly by the riverbank. They were clearly man-made, but they weren’t very good.

And that’s when we decided to show them up improve upon what they’d started, and leave a little surprise for whoever had lovingly built the little camps. We set to work:

We spent a good hour by the riverside, stacking rocks. We left a half-dozen each, but the ring in the river – that was our masterpiece. One large central cairn, surrounded by twelve ancillary cairns. Christopher was pleased that neither of us had any question of what the correct number was – we both automatically assumed 12. This is because we share a highly technical background in Teenage Wicca.

The Verdict: Uh, playing in Nature? Heck yes! Obviously we had a blast, and left something clearly manmade for someone to stumble on, that won’t fuck up the countryside. I had been yearning to do this from the minute I made the list. Duh.

But the day’s adventures weren’t over yet!   We hadn’t yet scaled the cliff, or built our flower crowns, or read Tarot in a forest meadow! It was Beltane, after all†!

So we climbed the Big Cliff:

Via a nearly vertical footpath that provided access to the powerlines that stretch across the river. We hiked onward, and that’s when we heard an ominous rumbling.

No, not thunder; don’t be silly. It was just the loggers, who were lumberjacking off in the distance. One was wearing just jeans, boots, and the stupid safety vest; somehow we were able to navigate the trail with our eyes glued to his gleaming, sweaty torso. Christopher was tempted to wander over and say something to them. Something like “Help, sir! We’re just two little lost fags all alone in the woods! Golly!” 

Golly.

but we both agreed that probably wasn’t the best idea. We stumbled onward until we came across a meadow full of flowers.

So then this happened:

And I started singing the Sound of Music:

Christopher wasn’t amused.

So I flopped down, exhausted from belting broadway from the mountaintop.

The hills really *had* been alive with the sound of music.

We hiked back down to the little encampments, and offered up our crowns in a sacrifice, in fire, content in the success of our pastoral adventure‡.

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*Do you mean to tell me you don’t take directions from woodland creatures? What the hell is wrong with you?

†Um, Beltane celebrations usually involve a certain amount of ceremonial fucking. That was not the case here, both because I’m seeing someone and because we’ve known each other since we were five. Ewww§.

‡Christopher also made friends with a horse:

and with a goat:

§ Sorry, Christopher.

Tagged: Bucolic Adventures, Christopher Darling, Fairyland, Lizard Friends, Lumberjacking Off, Pastoral Adventures, River Mountain and Wood, Ruritania, Scaling Cliffs, The List, Whimsical Forest Surprise

Post the Forty-Eighth: Exploring the River (OR: The Leavenworth Trip: Part Two)

Gentle Reader, our first morning in the cabin dawned bright and clear, and I stumbled downstairs in search of coffee. Christopher Darling was still asleep, but as a smoker tobacco-juice-vapor-person*, I can only stay abed so long before my body craves some drugs.

Sweet, Sweet, Drugs

Once I was at a level that I think of as “tolerable quasi-humanity” Darling was up and it was time for adventure, so we all traipsed down the river-trail.

Darling and I had explored it the day before; we were plotting to ford the river and scale the sheer cliff on the other side.

Twenty-five nine years of my life and still – wait, what?

When we’d encountered a big rock in the river, I insisted on wading out , knee-deep into the river; I like the cold, and wasn’t bothered by the glacial snow-melt at all. When Christopher joined me, well -

- it was a trifle cold for him.

So when we went back the next day, with his family, Christopher was less inclined to wade into the water. I was all for it, though, and so was K, Darling’s sister-in-law†.

She decided not to climb the big rock, though, because her little dog was following her into the swiftly raging river and we were all worried about falling over and being swept away to our deaths, anyway.

Let’s climb the giant rock!

I will help you, guuuuurl!

Whatevs. Also probably YOLO.

The remainder of that day was spent exploring the fabulous shopping opportunities of a small tourist town. They had a hat shop with both real and novelty hats, all sorts; Darling bought me one that was trés Quentin Crisp for my birthday.

Back at the cabin, we had an early night; there was to be a fishing trip the next day!

Christopher and I didn’t go fishing. Obviously.

Instead, we were going to take a Leisurely Nature Stroll. It was Beltane, after all.

Before we could get to Nature, we had to hike up to the bustling metropolis known as Plain, Washington.

That’s it. That’s the whole town.

While we were there, we discovered a charming cupola, and had to investigate; then we discovered the garden.

And then also this happened:

Well, after Plain, we jaunted on towards the unknown.  Luckily, we made a lizard-friend who guided us towards a trail.

Lizard-Friend is on a signpost that reads, simply, “Bridge.”

We were now dans la foret, Gentle Reader; I was thrilled, because the task on my List that I’ve been most excited about was coming up‡:

The Task: Create a Whimsical Forest Surprise.

Which you’ll just have to wait until Friday to read about. Cheers!

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* My biggest problem with using the stupid vapor thing instead of smoking is the nomenclature. I refuse to use the term “vaping.” It’s not euphonic, it’s not elegant, and I hate it. Also I constantly have to track down the bits for my machine or worry about it running out of electricity, instead of just lighting up and using a verb with a bit of sibilant music in. Blech.

†Not to be confused with Miss K. This K is a very sweet young lady, though, and I really enjoyed her company.

‡My original plan for the Whimsical Forest Surprise was to make a Thai Spirit House and leave it in the forest, but then I learned about Cultural Appropriation. My next idea was to make charming biodegradable fairies from renewable resources and suspend them from a tree, but the spontaneity of what actually happened was much better. Trust me. You’ll see.

 

Tagged: Christopher Darling, Climbing Big Rocks, He Thinks My Tractor's Sexy, Leavenworth Washington, Lizard Friends, Nature, Quentin Crisp, Rivers, Two-part Episodes, Vacations

Post the Forty-Seventh: Into the Mountains (OR: The Leavenworth Trip: Part One)

I was woken by the telephone, Gentle Reader. It wasn’t early, and it wasn’t late, but Mr. Darling’s voice was on the machine. I’m not good at mornings at the best of times, and I was awfully confused.

“This call is for Tyler – if he wants to experience an impromptu adventure, he should call me back in the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”

What?

And so I called him back, and was still packing when he showed up half an hour later. I brutally shoved as much coffee as possible into my face, slung my bags over my shoulder, and marched out to his mother’s waiting car.

Mrs. Darling has known me since I was small, and since her family was going to Leavenworth* for a few days, and since my European plans hadn’t worked out, and since my birthday was coming up, she graciously decided to invite me to join them in our state’s Little Bavaria.

There were seven of us: Mr. and Mrs. Darling, Christopher and I, Christopher’s elder brother A, and his wife, K, and, of course, Auntie Tracy. There were also three dogs.

Naturally, Christopher and I were having the most fun of anyone else on this road trip, and it’s all thanks to the power of selfies:

En route, we stopped a few times, most notably at… I’m not really sure. There was a farmer’s market, and a petting zoo, and a corn maze† there? So we engaged in shenanigans while the rest of the Darling clan got supplies.

Christopher and I have known each other since kindergarten; at school, they had these big tires that we’d climb on or hide inside, you know?

We found a charming little bar, that had been set up for the holiday weekend? This clearly prompted me to transform into an old-timey saloon girl.

And then Mr. Christopher Darling, the city-wise sophisticate, indulged in some cow ropin’. That’s right, ropin’.

Back in the car, with about another hour’s drive, we passed the time as best we could. Christopher, that slim bitch, can apparently snack to his heart’s content and not gain an ounce of weight. I gazed on in envy, and did my best to eat like a bird.

And then, while discussing Tumblr and Cultural Appropriation, we had a turban-off – that is, who can tie a fashionable turban without a mirror the best?

Leave your answer in the comments below!

After all the road-trip hijinks, it was almost anticlimactic to arrive at our charming cabin in the woods. Christopher and I were to stay in the Cedar Room, which according to the guest book was haunted -

Aw, yessssssssssssss!

- and we settled in for our impromptu trip to the mountains.

 

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*Leavenworth is a touristy town that requires all of its businesses and residences to be quaint. By law. It’s a “Bavarian” “Village” where you will see a whimsical clocktower on the McDonald’s, and so on. Since I didn’t get to go to real Bavaria, Mrs. Darling wanted to offer me the closest alternative. It was very sweet, and dare I say, darling‡ of her.

†There’s video of this maze, which is not in fact made of corn. It’s made out of sticks zip-tied to each other, with really bad “riddles”§ at the dead ends. Cow-themed puns, really, if that.

‡In lieu of smacking me, please smack whoever’s closest to you.

§What do you get when you feed a cow money? It isn’t moo-lah, as one would presume; the correct answer is evidently Rich Cream. What.

Tagged: Christopher Darling, Cow Ropin, Giant Tires, Impromptu Adventures, Leavenworth, Little Bavaria, Mountains, Oh and Also Ghosts, Road Trips, Saloon Girls, Selfies

Poetic Interlude LVI

Yet another guest post by my Dad. Go figure.

Sometimes I am afraid.
Not of death
for I know who I am
and what I’ve been.
I’m afraid of life for
Sometimes I don’t know
which way to turn.
The ones that depend on me to lead
have confidence, trust,
and believe.
I can’t show that I’m unsure.
So, I put on a mask and
don’t let them know that
very often I’m insecure.
Tagged: James Yoder, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Writing

Update: Not A Real Post

Don’t judge me, Gentle Reader. I’m in a cabin in the woods! Happy Beltane!

What this means is that you’re not getting a real post today. It also means that I’m going to try to get back to a Monday-Wednesday-Friday (Sunday) schedule this next week. I mean, you might get a post tomorrow, but I wouldn’t hold my breath, were I you.

Cabin. Woods. I did say. With Mr. Darling, no less.

Instead, please enjoy the most British thing I can find on the Internet today. Cheers.

Tagged: Apology, British Soldiers, Cabin In the Woods, I wouldn't think much of the man in uniform who wouldn't inconvenience himself to save a female in distress, Not a Real Post, Updates, Wait how do you have wifi, What The Hell Is Going On With Your Blog Dude

Post the Forty-Sixth: Beauty Secrets of the Reverend Doctor: New Boyfriend Edition

Have you ever started a new relationship, brimming with hope, with a brand new boyfriend who is utterly utter – who is better than every guy since Charlemagne, and the best thing since tinned unicorn meat, Gentle Reader?

Or at least equal to.

And has that unimaginably wonderful specimen of humanity then invited you to the Theatre last Saturday, followed by your very first overnight adventure*?  Well, then. If you’re woefully insecure like me, you understand my abject terror.

Oh! I have some body-image issues. Hadn’t I mentioned? I’m bothered by all kinds of things – like my oily skin, the fact that I’m forced to have a corporeal body, and the existence of feet.

Pictured: True Beauty

Well, clearly I had to do something before our big and fancy theatre date. And now, thanks to the power of social media, you can try these handy tips yourself!

Step 1: Conceal everything that is wrong with you for as long as possible.

No, not like that. Did you forget what site you were on? Do it properly – with elegance and panache:

Closer?

You know what? Let’s skip this step.

Step 2: Force Artifice and Nature Into An Uneasy Alliance.

Sure, your cheekbones are charming, but they’re perpetually blotchy and red. Liberally spackle your face with your favorite concealer, realize that it’s at least six shades too pale, and scrub your face until it’s gone. Then, in a panic, go through your ordinary beauty routine, because it’s better than nothing, right?

Yolo.

Seriously, remember to shave, though, fellas†.

Step 3:  Remember What You Looked Like The Night You Met Him And Realize That He Likes You Anyway.

Wait – is this called confidence? Be confident. Confidence is sexy, kids.

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* No details, but I’ll remind you that I’m a lady, kittens.

†An actual beauty tip for fellas – straight up, for realsies: Stubble is sexy. Painful-Sandpaper-Face is not. The French discovered a compromise years ago, referred to as a barbe-a-trois-jours (The beard of three days). The idea is, if you’re not interested in growing a full beard, or you have established facial hair but there are bits you shave, you artfully arrange to shave three days before you see your sweetie, to be at maximal sexy-stubble and minimal scratchy-gross. It works. Depending on how your facial hair grows.

Tagged: Barbe a trois jours, Beauty Tips, Doctor Boyfriend, Humble Bragging, New Boyfriend, Panache, Style Blog

Poetic Interlude LV

Another guest post from my deceased father, Gentle Reader. Coincidentally, that may be because I’m working on releasing some of his work. Quelle chance!

Part of me, old friend,
is travelin’ with you.
Sayin’ goodbye is never easy
but it’s not always bad.
The road of life is constantly changin’
and we’ve come to a fork in the trail.
Your direction takes a different path for now
But I know our footprints
will merge again.
 
Tagged: James Yoder, Poetic Interludes, Poetry

Post the Forty-Fifth: A Bus Trip In Drag

Throwback Thursday’s a thing, isn’t it, Gentle Reader? Let’s give that a shot.

Miss Ward, Mr. Darling, and I were inseparable in high school, Gentle Reader*. We did everything together, and would frequently go on fascinating trips, via bus, to the local mall. As teenagers are wont to do.

We had a happy tradition in those days, before cellphone cameras were ubiquitous, of getting a disposable camera, taking an entire roll of pictures, and then getting it developed in only an hour, before we went home. You youngsters may have trouble believing that, but it was a miracle of technology at the time.

This went on for some time, you know. One bright day, we hit on the idea of dressing in drag for one of these excursions. Darling and I were both newly out, and in and out of frocks all the time. Of course, we had to find a different mall far away to go to, because what if our classmates saw us! Or our parents! Oh, the peril we thought we were in!

A lot of planning went into this excursion, via AIM and our Hotmail accounts. I had to use code words, in case my parents read my e-mail; if I remember right, “corsets” were “hats” or something.

Any road, the day arrived, and Darling and I turned up at Miss Ward’s doorstep, with frilly things in hand. Miss Ward’s transformation into Mike Paige was pretty painless.

Darling was next; he had a lot more experience with makeup than I do†, and a better selection of clothes. Quick as a wink, he was transformed into Megan, Mike’s girlfriend.

I was always a bit more awkward than my friends‡, not as polished or as smooth. My transformation was not quite as convincing. Behold: Molly DeMorte, Mike’s cousin. She’s from Arizona.

So we went to the strange foreign mall, and we were very convincing and no one said anything derogatory at all people whispered nasty things about us, except when they were hitting on Megan. We looked at all the wondrous sites our own mall lacked – a store with only Japanese things! – A fabric store! – and settled down for some ice cream.

Knowing that, via bus, we’d have to be getting back soon if we were to establish our alibi, we went back to more familiar streets, headed to the movie theater we had supposedly been at for the last seven hours. Once there, we swiftly shifted to our more usual personas§, and no one could tell anything was suspicious at all.

Probably just drugs or something.

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*In later years, the addition of Ms. Capere and Miss Spectacular rounded out the cast, with occasional special guest stars.

†He still does.

‡I still am.

§There are a number of times, with this particular set of friends, when we’d all crowd into a bathroom together. Some times are more glamorous than others, but there have been many, many, times.

As a bonus, Gentle Reader, here’s one more photo of Molly DeMorte.

Tagged: Bad Drag, Darling and Ward, Drag, Gay Teen Powers Activate, LGBT Youth, QUILTBAG Adventures, The Mall, Throwback Thursday

Post the Forty-Fourth: Rays of Hope

Oh, my stars, Gentle Reader. I have really been slacking as far as the blog goes, lately. I beg your pardon – as you know, things have been a little rough lately. I even missed last Sunday’s Poetic Interlude – I’m sorry. Happy Easter, though?

Things are starting to look up - things with Doctor Boyfriend are going swimmingly, and he seems to be taking the chaos that comes from being associated with the Yoder family in stride. Right now, he’s the lighthouse in the stormy, night-time sea I’m struggling to navigate – but it’s still pretty early on, and I don’t want to put too much pressure on him. He seems to be holding up pretty well, though.

In other news, I’m shopping for a day-job in the Tacoma area, and looking at going back to school, maybe a cute little studio apartment in the St. Helens district. Who knows if either of  those things will pan out – my plans usually fall through – but they’re giving me something to strive for.

There are a number of changes I’m trying to make in my life right now – that was the point of Europe, after all; a dramatic boundary, delineating the boundary in no uncertain terms of the life I want to make for myself. I’ve been reactive, not proactive; passive, not aggressive – dormant, sleeping,  a plant nestled under a blanket of snow, waiting.

Spring is here.

You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little less prolific here, and you’ll have to bear with me while I re-evaluate the priorities in my life, try to figure out who I am, and what that means, and why anyone should care. Those are questions that no one really answers, of course, but I’d like to have at least an inkling – surely I’m more than just the guy who stumbles across things like taxidermy rat underwear.

Thoughts and advice are welcomed, of course – and I’d be thrilled if you could help craft a resume! – but mainly, Gentle Reader, your patience and support are what I’m after. Thank you.

I’ll leave you here, with a little Rufus Wainwright.

Tagged: Aspirations, Doctor Boyfriend, drama, Hope, Self-Discovery, Soul-Searching, Spring Is Here, Taxidermy Rat Underwear, Who Am I

Post the Forty-Third: Oops, They Did It Again

To paraphrase the incomparable Ms. Capere, I wish we didn’t keep having to have this conversation, Gentle Reader.

Not her and I, no. Not you and I, either – doubtless, if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’re probably pretty okay with the QUILTBAG community*.  And yet -

As you may remember, I recently asked a stranger on a date and things went pretty well, and things kept going well. As of yesterday, we decided to be exclusive! I was thrilled. I really like Dr. Boyfriend. He’s swell! After yet another excellent date, he dropped me at home, and – as he’d graciously given me first crack at making things Facebook Official – I announced it to the Social Media World. As one does.

MS Paint: Preserving Anonymity since 1982

I sat back, and watched the congratulations rolled in. And then some homophobia happened.

I’ll just let that sink in, for a minute. Two openly gay gents announce, on Facebook, to their friends, family, and acquaintances, that they’re dating, and someone – someone who’s known to one or the other of them – has issues with gay people†.

Now, granted, I barely know the guy who started spewing shit – and, granted, this is certainly a first world problem. For example, there’s a Nigerian lesbian who was condemned to execution for, in fact, being a lesbian; she fled to the UK for asylum, and she is up for deportation to her native country. Still.

You can sign a petition here, for what it’s worth.

All the guy actually said – and I’m paraphrasing, because of course I removed his comments – was that he’s not a fan of the gays, but if you can’t find love anywhere else, good enough. So what he said, in the great hierarchy of hatred, barely ranks. Still.

His niece, my actual friend, was livid. She asked permission to call him out, because she didn’t want to turn our happy announcement into a flamewar – and went and had a quiet word with him, because I didn’t want things to overwhelm the happiness of the post. A few minutes later, I got a quiet apology. Still.

If he was bothered by it, why bother saying anything at all? Not Commenting is an option. Or, if the idea of two queers having meals together, watching movies together, going to parties and bars and spending quiet nights in together really fucking bothers him, why not unfriend said queer or queers – especially one as angry and vocal as I am? Failing that, there’s the option to hide people from your newsfeed. Denigrating people who are in that marvelous giggling rush of first infatuation? Classy, dude.

Sooooo Classy.

I try to react to things like this graciously, to take the opportunity to educate an ignorant buffoon, or to let someone who’s supportive know that perhaps their language isn’t quite appropriate.

I try. Oh my God, do I try. I try all the time‡.

Being queer does not give me the magical power to turn into an information booth. It doesn’t turn me into an educational center, or my (our) happy little announcement into a public forum for debate. I am not a saint, and these daily grains of sand grate and grate and grate until I explode into anger.

And that, Gentle Reader, is what is meant by the term “microagression”.

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*Or else you’re lurking for passive-aggressive stalking reasons (Hi, Sally Mae!) or similar claptrap.

†I may need to overhaul my Social Media Strategy. What? You don’t have one?

‡In this Inst-i-tu-tiooooooon!

 

 

Tagged: Dating, Doctor Boyfriend, Homophobia, LGBT, LGBT Visibility, Microagressions, QUILTBAG, Social Media