Tyler Yoder's Blog, page 3

Poetic Interlude CXVIII

Vanity

By Tyler J. Yoder

I am stripped of pretension;

No longer codified, calcified,

By who I am or was – might have been, might be,

Those notions slipping off shoulders

In a gleaming pile.

You meet your mirror in artifice, craft yourself for the day,

The same one you’ve worn for years, ill-fitting – it never suited you.

-I have never been fooled

-I am not taken in by it

-I do not like your lies

You paint yourself in softest light, and smile, satisfied.

I am here, watching.

Behind that porcelain brow, can you feel my breath?Do you still see me flicker on the screen,

A black-and-white memory?

I have no shame.It is no use to me, and I am not afraid.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

Tagged: Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Tyler J. Yoder, Vanity

Into The Woods

At least once a year I have to escape into the deep forest, Gentle Reader – even when I was already living in the woods. I find it necessary to be in the wilds to recharge, reconnect, commune with chorused nature in all her glory. Last weekend, I was privileged enough to escape to the Tahuya State Forest for Miss Skagg’s co-ed Bridal Shower. Mind you, this wasn’t to be your ordinary affair, with cucumber sandwiches and over-bearing relatives – no, this was beer, and bonfires; sleeping on the ground and pickup trucks. In short, it was a return to my roots after some months in the city. How could I resist?

Pluckily, I slung my knapsack to my back, and took the bus out to the land where buses rode no further. Heidi picked me up, and after a short delay to gather supplies, we sped out into the forest in a big ol’ convoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd5ZLJWQmss

The group was large, and some of them had been out at the site since Tuesday, to save ideal campsites for the 25-40 expected guests. That night, there was due to be an Usher’s Meeting, wherein the ground-crew and their runners for the wedding would receive their instructions for the upcoming wedding. Now, Heidi and Paul have held a number of meetings for the bridal party during the year they’ve been planning their wedding; I haven’t come to any of them, because of an old bit of drama that hadn’t been quite resolved. I was once quite close with Emilly and Jeffrey, Heidi’s brother and future sister-in-law, and due to mysterious circumstances that I’m still not quite sure of, they have rather spectacularly refused to speak to me for just over three years. Emilly is Heidi’s wedding planner, and we were due to work closely together at this wedding. I was expecting a situation like this:

But the meeting, though late and rather tipsy, was fairly professional and we didn’t directly interact. So far, so good. It was the closest contact we’d had in years.

The next day involved wedding shower games, which were genuinely fun. Afterward, I wandered down the creek that was nearby for a good hour and a half, all alone except for some beer and my ukulele. Despite the drought, I found some holes deep enough for swimming in. My hair was simply janky with algae, darlings. The best part? I could neither see, nor hear, nor smell anything man-made. No phones, no lights, no motorcars – none of it. Simply the river, my instrument, and me.

Basically this.

That night, under the shelter of the fabulous Ms. Banks’ hospitality, all of the guests were well in their cups and circulating admirably. Like a cocktail party, but in the woods. Under a lantern’s glare – and near the bar – I was chatting with Ms. Banks, when Emilly came up to freshen her drink. There we were, the three of us, under a little canopy – and Ms. Banks and I were discussing how this year’s Pride had gone.

It might be all I’ve talked about for the last month-and-a-half.

This provided the key for Emilly to join us, and join in the conversation. I waxed passionate about bisexual representation, and how important it was, and Emilly and I had a really great conversation, intermittently joined by others who flitted through the bar. We even hugged. It was a huge step.

There were more shenanigans in the woods – including, indeed, me learning how to “shot-gun” a beer, at my age! – as well as going off-roading for the first time in absolute yonks –

but a marvelous time was had, and some relationships are on the mend. Not to mention – the countdown has begun for Miss Heidi and Paul, and their wedding will officially be Very Soon. Getting back into the forest is just what I needed, Gentle Reader – and is just what the Doctor orders before Summer is out.

Tagged: A Bucolic Adventure, Aventures, Big Ol' Queer in the Woods, Dans La Foret, Forest Hobo Drag Queen, Into the Woods, Jemilly Crew, The Boys

Post the Sixty-Fourth: Into The Woods

At least once a year I have to escape into the deep forest, Gentle Reader – even when I was already living in the woods. I find it necessary to be in the wilds to recharge, reconnect, commune with chorused nature in all her glory. Last weekend, I was privileged enough to escape to the Tahuya State Forest for Miss Skagg’s co-ed Bridal Shower. Mind you, this wasn’t to be your ordinary affair, with cucumber sandwiches and over-bearing relatives – no, this was beer, and bonfires; sleeping on the ground and pickup trucks. In short, it was a return to my roots after some months in the city. How could I resist?

Pluckily, I slung my knapsack to my back, and took the bus out to the land where buses rode no further. Heidi picked me up, and after a short delay to gather supplies, we sped out into the forest in a big ol’ convoy.

The group was large, and some of them had been out at the site since Tuesday, to save ideal campsites for the 25-40 expected guests. That night, there was due to be an Usher’s Meeting, wherein the ground-crew and their runners for the wedding would receive their instructions for the upcoming wedding. Now, Heidi and Paul have held a number of meetings for the bridal party during the year they’ve been planning their wedding; I haven’t come to any of them, because of an old bit of drama that hadn’t been quite resolved. I was once quite close with Emilly and Jeffrey, Heidi’s brother and future sister-in-law, and due to mysterious circumstances that I’m still not quite sure of, they have rather spectacularly refused to speak to me for just over three years. Emilly is Heidi’s wedding planner, and we were due to work closely together at this wedding. I was expecting a situation like this:

But the meeting, though late and rather tipsy, was fairly professional and we didn’t directly interact. So far, so good. It was the closest contact we’d had in years.

The next day involved wedding shower games, which were genuinely fun. Afterward, I wandered down the creek that was nearby for a good hour and a half, all alone except for some beer and my ukulele. Despite the drought, I found some holes deep enough for swimming in. My hair was simply janky with algae, darlings. The best part? I could neither see, nor hear, nor smell anything man-made. No phones, no lights, no motorcars – none of it. Simply the river, my instrument, and me.

Basically this.

That night, under the shelter of the fabulous Ms. Banks’ hospitality, all of the guests were well in their cups and circulating admirably. Like a cocktail party, but in the woods. Under a lantern’s glare – and near the bar – I was chatting with Ms. Banks, when Emilly came up to freshen her drink. There we were, the three of us, under a little canopy – and Ms. Banks and I were discussing how this year’s Pride had gone.

It might be all I’ve talked about for the last month-and-a-half.

This provided the key for Emilly to join us, and join in the conversation. I waxed passionate about bisexual representation, and how important it was, and Emilly and I had a really great conversation, intermittently joined by others who flitted through the bar. We even hugged. It was a huge step.

There were more shenanigans in the woods – including, indeed, me learning how to “shot-gun” a beer, at my age! – as well as going off-roading for the first time in absolute yonks –

but a marvelous time was had, and some relationships are on the mend. Not to mention – the countdown has begun for Miss Heidi and Paul, and their wedding will officially be Very Soon. Getting back into the forest is just what I needed, Gentle Reader – and is just what the Doctor orders before Summer is out.

Tagged: A Bucolic Adventure, Aventures, Big Ol' Queer in the Woods, Dans La Foret, Forest Hobo Drag Queen, Into the Woods, Jemilly Crew, The Boys

Pride Recap

Thank you for bearing with nearly two months of exclusively LGBTQIA content, Gentle Reader. I hope your Pride season was just stellar, and that the local celebrations didn’t disappoint.

So! Going back to early June, then, our Pride Posts were these:

Post the Forty-Ninth: Madame DeLyte’s Guide to Pride – wherein we looked at a general overview of what Pride means now, and what it has historically meant.

Post the Fiftieth: Pride Etiquette – a guide to how one ought to behave at such functions.

Post the Fifty-First: On Coming Out was full of things to consider before taking that leap.

Post the Fifty-Second: LGBTQIA Community Resources was, um, full of community resources.

Post the Fifty-Third: Songs with Queer Themes, 2015 was the third installment in a series – an annual search for the best explicitly queer songs.

Post the Fifty-Fourth: To Thine Own Self, and All That Rot was about not apologizing for who you are, even if you don’t fit into conventional boxes. Especially then.

Post the Fifty-Fifth: In Which We Go Over The Rainbow was a guide to Pride flags you’ll see.

Post the Fifty-Sixth: In Which We Pass is an anecdote about assimilation. Or, rather, avoiding it.

Post the Fifty-Seventh: Identity Issues was about being allowed to explore one’s identity without committing. It’s okay to be unsure.

Post the Fifty-Eighth: In Which Madame DeLyte Joins Grindr is a humorous romp wherein a dignified old lady joins a gay “dating” app.

Posts the Fifty-Ninth, Sixtieth, and Sixty-First are a three-part recounting of my adventures at Seattle Pride this year.

Finally, Post the Sixty-Second: Out In The Park is essentially a Tacoma Pride anecdote and an impromptu photo-shoot.

Happy Pride, Gentle Readers, I hope that my humble offerings have been hilarious and helpful for you this year. Get ready to return to les aventures on Thursday!

Tagged: Pride Recap 2015

Post the Sixty Third: Pride Recap

Thank you for bearing with nearly two months of exclusively LGBTQIA content, Gentle Reader. I hope your Pride season was just stellar, and that the local celebrations didn’t disappoint.

So! Going back to early June, then, our Pride Posts were these:

Post the Forty-Ninth: Madame DeLyte’s Guide to Pride – wherein we looked at a general overview of what Pride means now, and what it has historically meant.

Post the Fiftieth: Pride Etiquette – a guide to how one ought to behave at such functions.

Post the Fifty-First: On Coming Out was full of things to consider before taking that leap.

Post the Fifty-Second: LGBTQIA Community Resources was, um, full of community resources.

Post the Fifty-Third: Songs with Queer Themes, 2015 was the third installment in a series – an annual search for the best explicitly queer songs.

Post the Fifty-Fourth: To Thine Own Self, and All That Rot was about not apologizing for who you are, even if you don’t fit into conventional boxes. Especially then.

Post the Fifty-Fifth: In Which We Go Over The Rainbow was a guide to Pride flags you’ll see.

Post the Fifty-Sixth: In Which We Pass is an anecdote about assimilation. OI, rather, avoiding it.

Post the Fifty-Seventh: Identity Issues was about being allowed to explore one’s identity without committing. It’s okay to be unsure.

Post the Fifty-Eighth: In Which Madame DeLyte Joins Grindr is a humorous romp wherein a dignified old lady joins a gay “dating” app.

Posts the Fifty-Ninth, Sixtieth, and Sixty-First are a three-part recounting of my adventures at Seattle Pride this year.

Finally, Post the Sixty-Second: Out In The Park is essentially a Tacoma Pride anecdote and an impromptu photo-shoot.

Happy Pride, Gentle Readers, I hope that my humble offerings have been hilarious and helpful for you this year. Get ready to return to les aventures on Thursday!

Tagged: Pride Recap 2015

Poetic Interlude CXVII

Dreams and Landscapes

By Tyler J. Yoder

 

 

You’re old enough to lie, aren’t you, darling?

It’s life at all that’s so hard:

In the uninhabitable hours, I dally with my memories of you,

Then I put on a veil, blow out the candle, and hide on the chaise –

Sometimes, it’s necessary to lounge in evening clothes all day.

I want to arise, like a libertine angel, covered in cloud and in fire;

My heart was not gnawed by a specific tiger, my love.

There are days when I hardly speak;

I will frequently take vows of silence that are broken within an hour.

The ghost of Yeats will not leave me alone, today,

And I can think of no better way to die than a bathtub of champagne:

My sorrows, apparently, are survivors – why won’t we drown?

The secret ingredient is my blood; it tastes of cocktail music.

I had a dream, of the Emperor and Empress of Brazil;

We discovered a hamlet drowned in years, at the foot of an active volcano.

I had a strange desire to replace my teeth with carved ivory,

and with the unfertilized eggs of a dead woman.

In the uninhabitable hours, my love, I grow frustrated by the intersection of our madness.

The ghosts of our surviving sorrows, and our dreams, buried in an antique child-sized casket,

Are covered in cloud and fire.

You’re old enough to lie, aren’t you, darling?

It’s life at all that’s so hard.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

Tagged: Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Tyler J. Yoder

Post the Sixty-Second: Out In The Park

Gentle Reader, it’s always important to gather your loved ones together for the holidays. Maman was heading up to town; Christopher Darling and his beau were headed down. Ms. Capere, her husband Laurence, and our roommate Tram were all gathered around, and we’d be meeting yet more friends later on. Why? If you have to ask, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.

It was the weekend of Tacoma Pride.

We ended up driving down in three separate vehicles. The plan had been to bus all together, but Maman doesn’t understand how buses work, and was worried that she wouldn’t be able to get back to her car by herself. We found her some parking and headed towards the festival, just up the way.

We were due to meet our friend Amy, as well as a friend of hers.  Luckily, she texted, saying she was near the Hedwig stage. We were, on the whole, confused, until in the distance the dulcet tones of Wig in a Box drifted towards us. There, we met up with Amy and Tam.

We split up and explored, as one does at such things. I was able to convince Maman to eat from a food truck, something she’s been scared and excited to do, before she headed out. I then reconnected with my friends, who were having appetizers and cocktails at the Forum. After a light meal, we discovered some delightful bricked-up arches in an abandoned lot, so of course there was an impromptu photoshoot. Enjoy the images, Gentle Reader!

Photo credits to messieurs Roemmich and Darling, respectively.

Tagged: Impromptu Photoshoot, Mostly Just Photos, Posts Written In A Hurry, Tacoma Pride

Post the Sixty-First: Pride 2015, Part III

I awoke in Darling’s apartment to the sounds of brunch being made. Evidently, it’s pretty customary when Darling and his roommate both have their beaus over for the four of them to break their fast together; I was privileged to join them. Coffee and conversation in dishabille – who could ask anything more of a morning? This was the most time I got to spend with Darling and company over the course of the weekend, and it is easily one of my favorite parts of this year’s Pride.

The fellas were all booked for a Pride cruise around the Sound for the next several hours, and I was going to investigate the Pride event on the Hill itself – Broadway was closed to traffic and lined with vendors. Obviously, I was wearing considerably more clothing than the fellas, because of course I was, but we dressed in similar amounts of time. Darling loaned me his sock garters for the occasion, because he’s a thoughtful friend and they were just the touch I needed. Off I went in my poncy big hat and toile skirt, into the fray.

The street fair was the same as any such event; vendors hawking wares, beer gardens by the score, a few stages hither and yon topped by beplumed drag queens. You know, the usual. I received countless compliments on my couture, which is as it should be – the French have a saying that no outfit is a success until a stranger compliments you on it. After walking the length of Broadway a few times, I was done with the event; it was time to visit my Aunt and Uncle Stone, way over across town. I believe I mentioned I’m not good at navigating in cities I don’t know well?

Yeah. I wound up taking entirely the wrong bus – to be fair, I was told that the bus would take me where I was going. No matter. I phoned the Stones and they helped me develop a work-around, and eventually made it to their charming home. When I arrived, I had just missed a crisis. They sit dogs, you see, and there had been an accident; one of the dogs had to be taken to the vet. Owners had to be contacted, etc. etc. – despite these troubles, which they handled with aplomb, they were graciousness itself, as ever. I sat with Auntie Trin while Uncle Gwydion took the poor injured pup to the vet, and we smoked countless cigarettes and discussed wondrous things. When Gwydion got home, cocktails commenced, and we sat and chatted some more. Eventually, I realized I had probably better make my way back to the Hill – who knows when the buses stop running in town? Not I! – and I promptly got on the right bus, going in the wrong direction. I eventually realized my mistake, and an hour or two later got to my destination.

I was looking for Pony, where Darling was dancing that night; after wandering a bit – for far less time than the night before – I finally found it, and was promptly phoned by Auntie Robbie, who was down at C. C. Attle’s – which didn’t have a cover. Reluctantly – I really had wandered for miles the night before – I agreed to trudge down there to meet him. Once we finally made it inside, we took a few turns around the room, caught up – it’s been ages since we’ve seen one another – and promptly decided to leave. Robbie wanted to go to Pony – he’s never been – and despite the fact that I was really quite tired and Darling’s apartment was only a few blocks away and it really would have been much more sensible to just retire for the evening,  I agreed to go back up to Pony. On the way, I ran into Jarel yet again, and he and his friend promptly dropped their plans to join us, and go see Christopher dance.

We merry few trekked back up, running into acquaintances and trouble, which is one of my favorite parts of Pride – literally everyone is there. It’s impossible not to run into people you know. Eventually, we arrived at our destination. I spent most of our time there in the beer garden, smoking and looking out-of-place – which I was. Pony is rather butch and scruffy, and daintily dressed Edwardian Ladies aren’t quite the clientele they’re going for. I was also displeased to be mistaken for a pirate several times while there.

I *suppose* there could be some overlap.

Eventually, we hit Bar Time, and the crowd began to disperse for the night. Darling and the fellas were going to an after-party, which clearly wouldn’t have been my scene. I toddled back to his place and called it a night; when I awoke, despite it being the main day of the festivities, I felt a little burnt out, and decided to give the parade and the festival a miss. I shoved my feathers and fripperies back in my bag, and began the long trip back home.

Tagged: Capitol Hill, CC Atttle's, LGBTQIA, Madame Delyte, Pony, Pride 2016, Queer, QUILTBAG, Seattle, Seattle Pride, Tyler J. Yoder

Post the Sixty-First: Pride 2016, Part III

I awoke in Darling’s apartment to the sounds of brunch being made. Evidently, it’s pretty customary when Darling and his roommate both have their beaus over for the four of them to break their fast together; I was privileged to join them. Coffee and conversation in dishabille – who could ask anything more of a morning? This was the most time I got to spend with Darling and company over the course of the weekend, and it is easily one of my favorite parts of this year’s Pride.

The fellas were all booked for a Pride cruise around the Sound for the next several hours, and I was going to investigate the Pride event on the Hill itself – Broadway was closed to traffic and lined with vendors. Obviously, I was wearing considerably more clothing than the fellas, because of course I was, but we dressed in similar amounts of time. Darling loaned me his sock garters for the occasion, because he’s a thoughtful friend and they were just the touch I needed. Off I went in my poncy big hat and toile skirt, into the fray.

The street fair was the same as any such event; vendors hawking wares, beer gardens by the score, a few stages hither and yon topped by beplumed drag queens. You know, the usual. I received countless compliments on my couture, which is as it should be – the French have a saying that no outfit is a success until a stranger compliments you on it. After walking the length of Broadway a few times, I was done with the event; it was time to visit my Aunt and Uncle Stone, way over across town. I believe I mentioned I’m not good at navigating in cities I don’t know well?

Yeah. I wound up taking entirely the wrong bus – to be fair, I was told that the bus would take me where I was going. No matter. I phoned the Stones and they helped me develop a work-around, and eventually made it to their charming home. When I arrived, I had just missed a crisis. They sit dogs, you see, and there had been an accident; one of the dogs had to be taken to the vet. Owners had to be contacted, etc. etc. – despite these troubles, which they handled with aplomb, they were graciousness itself, as ever. I sat with Auntie Trin while Uncle Gwydion took the poor injured pup to the vet, and we smoked countless cigarettes and discussed wondrous things. When Gwydion got home, cocktails commenced, and we sat and chatted some more. Eventually, I realized I had probably better make my way back to the Hill – who knows when the buses stop running in town? Not I! – and I promptly got on the right bus, going in the wrong direction. I eventually realized my mistake, and an hour or two later got to my destination.

I was looking for Pony, where Darling was dancing that night; after wandering a bit – for far less time than the night before – I finally found it, and was promptly phoned by Auntie Robbie, who was down at C. C. Attle’s – which didn’t have a cover. Reluctantly – I really had wandered for miles the night before – I agreed to trudge down there to meet him. Once we finally made it inside, we took a few turns around the room, caught up – it’s been ages since we’ve seen one another – and promptly decided to leave. Robbie wanted to go to Pony – he’s never been – and despite the fact that I was really quite tired and Darling’s apartment was only a few blocks away and it really would have been much more sensible to just retire for the evening,  I agreed to go back up to Pony. On the way, I ran into Jarel yet again, and he and his friend promptly dropped their plans to join us, and go see Christopher dance.

 

We merry few trekked back up, running into acquaintances and trouble, which is one of my favorite parts of Pride – literally everyone is there. It’s impossible not to run into people you know. Eventually, we arrived at our destination. I spent most of our time there in the beer garden, smoking and looking out-of-place – which I was. Pony is rather butch and scruffy, and daintily dressed Edwardian Ladies aren’t quite the clientele they’re going for. I was also displeased to be mistaken for a pirate several times while there.

I *suppose* there could be some overlap.

Eventually, we hit Bar Time, and the crowd began to disperse for the night. Darling and the fellas were going to an after-party, which clearly wouldn’t have been my scene. I toddled back to his place and called it a night; when I awoke, despite it being the main day of the festivities, I felt a little burnt out, and decided to give the parade and the festival a miss. I shoved my feathers and fripperies back in my bag, and began the long trip back home.

Tagged: Capitol Hill, CC Atttle's, LGBTQIA, Madame Delyte, Pony, Pride 2016, Queer, QUILTBAG, Seattle, Seattle Pride, Tyler J. Yoder

Poetic Interlude CXVI

Courtship

By Tyler J. Yoder

 

 

 

 

 

It was a foundation, and also a word, in the wickedest man I know,

A few drinks in the story of its birth.

I am far too small for answers, for an embrace,

For Art is white and cold, and will be many others,

Most lucid at playing the ancient games.

Lord, I remember the bartender,

The institutionalized uncle’s affair,

Our sordid lives that summer.

The kiss was blurry, on the fifth,

Less tidy than murder.

The flaws aren’t soft

When I am assaulted by forty years.

I am seething, waiting for jail.

I am looking for a month,

Or a love affair tres sérieux.

Tagged: Courtship, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Romance, Tyler J. Yoder