Tyler Yoder's Blog, page 35

Lavender Marriage

My mother’s parents were not passionate people. Kind, hardworking, good people, but not passionate about each other. Theirs was a marriage of convenience that lasted more than fifty years, and did develop into love – well before I was born – but it was not the sort of marriage that my other grandparents had, still frisky after a lifetime together. Both my Nanny and my Poppo, though they were devoted to one another, had already met and lost the loves of their lives by the time they met.

Poppo was a farm boy, from a large family. He had hopped a train – quite literally – at sixteen, to come live with his sister Mildred in Tacoma. When the war came, he was married to a ravishing woman. When he spoke about her at all – which was rare – it was brief, and simple. “You should’ve seen her – she should’ve been in the pictures.” He volunteered for the service, and was gone for years.

She was waiting for him, in the airport, when he got home from the war. She was eight months pregnant, and he walked right past her.

My Nanny, on the other hand, was a glamorous woman, especially when she was young. During the depression, as the daughter of the only grocer in town, her parents were still able to spoil her rotten. She met a man every bit as glamorous as she was, and she fell in love, and hard.

Wayne was always dapper, always immaculately groomed and dressed. He had a lot in common with my Nanny: they both loved dancing, and flowers – and men.

It was a different sort of convenience, and a different sort of arrangement. Here was the passion that she lacked in her latter marriage, and the sex just wasn’t important to her. They traveled together, they went out nearly every night, they wined and dined and danced – lord, how she loved to dance. They enjoyed all the benefits of being young and in love, and to the world, that’s just what they were. They didn’t need to know Wayne’s little secret.

He was a pilot, in the war, and his plane was shot down. Nanny refused to believe that he was dead for years; she kept writing the government, the air corps, and anyone she could think of to try to find him. Eventually, she was forced to admit that he was gone.

When I came out of the closet, Nanny never batted an eye, being far more familiar with “the homosexuals” than her children knew. She gave me a ring, silver and opal and heart-shaped, that had belonged to Wayne, and a photograph, to keep his memory alive, and to carry on in the traditions of my remarkable family.

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Tagged: Family Stories That Are Completely True, Lavender Marriage, LGBT, Love, Marriage of convenience, QUILTBAG, Relationships, WWII

Poetic Interlude XXIX

A corset squeezing out the breath,
A python ’round the neck:
Clean and cold conformity -
That demoness of death.
Draped with cords of every sort
The better for to bind
Relentless eyes burn arctic bright, 
Compel with cruel design,
And in the deep of every night
With calculated, clear delight,
You’ll learn to walk the line.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

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

In Which There Is An Epiphany

Gentle Reader, I’m afraid that I’m not doing at all well, today. More than just the ordinary mental merry-go-round. My departure date for Europe is in less than six months; there have been a few snags regarding sustainability, shelter, and so on. I had an epiphany this morning, while I was writing the Ex-Husband – this trip has brought me new life, happiness, a goal to work towards – in a word, hope. If I delay this journey in any way, I will quite frankly die of stagnation and depression, and I would succumb to all my habits and evils that I am currently valiantly wrestling against. If I want to live, I have to make this insane venture work.

This epiphany, however, is not the one in the title; it merely reminded me of it. After several glasses of wine, one winter, while I was in a similar suicidal slump, I attempted to cheer myself up with whimsy – sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn’t. I donned a silver taffeta fantasy and my tiny crown, Theodore, and sent a photo out into the aether.

The tiny crown wasn’t cutting it, and neither was the wine. I sank deeper and deeper in a widening mire. In the bathroom, I was suddenly harangued by my double in the mirror – he really laid into me. I fought back, of course, and there were some tears on both sides.

That’s when he told me he loved – that is, I told me that I loved myself. Flaws, failings, and all – for the first time in my entire life, I actually understood the concept of loving myself – and what’s more, liking the person the person I was, and was becoming, despite everything.

While I very much need the hand of hope held in front of me, I am sometimes able to draw comfort from this memory.

Tagged: Depression, Full Disclosure, I almost died y'all, Love, Mental Health, New Experiences, non-whimsy

Dinner & Theatre

Gentle Reader, my dear personal friend, Mr. C.W.L. Darling was kind enough to do something very nice this summer. He saw that a rather spectacular performance of The Pirates of Penzance was going to be put on locally, professionally – and knowing that I identify with the zany buffoonery inherent in all works by Gilbert and Sullivan, invited me.

It was a belated birthday present – that is, he purchased the tickets before my birthday, but the show itself wouldn’t be for months afterward. No matter; I adore theatre, and I above all else, I adore Gilbert and Sullivan. I grew up with their comic operas – their twisted plots were my fairy tales. I trekked up to Seattle, and there I met with Darling and his mother, Leigh, who has known me since I was a child. Leigh was kind enough to take us to dinner at a place that she’d been dying to try – Pasta Freska.

They’re known for their remarkably delicious food, and for one other thing – there are no menus. No, indeed, you’re at the mercy of this man:

He comes out, and he grills you on any allergies, or food restrictions. He then carefully studies your face, and looks deep into your eyes, and somehow your soul – he begins telling you that you adore passionately spicy things, while she is monstrous fond of shellfish, and as for him? He has a dangerous addiction to pesto.

As the first of your five courses is on its way, he returns, because he’s somehow divined that the entire party are enthusiastic wine drinkers, and this red that he’s selected will complement everyone’s taste, and everyone’s individually tailored meals.

The scary thing is that he’s absolutely right about each of his predictions. The man is a sorcerer, both with food and flavor, as well as, you know, the regular kind of sorcerer. Leigh began making her own pronouncements on how Darling and I ought to conduct our lives as mothers often do over wine. Luckily, it was time to leave for the theatre.

The cast was spectacular, naturally – the Darling’s relation was in it, and has been making quite a name for herself locally. Further, Frederick was fresh from Broadway – the famous one. Both Pirate King and Major-General Stanley were as delightful as ever they were, and as we sat there laughing in the theatre, Darling slyly snapped a photo of the two old friends, enjoying the show.

Tagged: Gilbert and Sullivan, New Experiences, Pirates of Penzance, Seattle, Theatre

Boy Stuff

Gentle Reader, my gender expression has drifted back and forth over the years. I have been both exceedingly butch, and exceedingly feminine at different points in my life.

   

These days, I think it foolish to limit oneself to one or the other; if an activity or item makes you happy, embrace it! Society shouldn’t keep you from the things you love – unless what you love is murder. It should definitely keep you from that, at least.

My point here, though, is that while I consider myself the synthesis of masculine and feminine, there are some things that I really don’t like to do. Working on cars is one of those things.

Enter the Boys – those young men that I was so fond of for so long. Obsessed with cars, and all that nonsense – working on them, souping them up, customizing them with kits, driving dangerously in some sort of testosterone-fueled delusion of racing – you know, Boy Stuff.

The trouble is, they weren’t very good at it. On slow days at work, J. would be trying to put a new alternator in. A. would be peering under the hood with him, and neither had the first idea on how to get the old one out. They’d always ask me to come help them out, and I would stubbornly refuse – my mantra became “I don’t know about all that boy stuff” because I simply didn’t want to deal with it. Invariably, though, after an hour of watching them struggle to figure out just what the hell they were doing, I’d sigh, roll up my sleeves and mutter “Get out of the way and let me do it.”

I know my way under the hood well enough to be able to do most of the basic work – I learned from my Dad when I was a teenager. During a misguided time when I was trying to out butch my straight cowboy buddies, we were always messing around with our trucks – not to make them run better, but to get them running at all, again. We even Frankensteined three Chevys together so that I’d have one running one.

I felt trapped and obligated to behave in a certain way, and extremely limited by that. At the same time, there’s a lot of Boy Stuff that I really enjoyed – camping, playing with guns, taxidermy. The Boys, with their enthusiasm for cars, guitars, and – when they were old enough, bars – it seemed false, forced. “This is what guys like, this is what guys do: You know, Boy Stuff.” It led to scenes that felt more over-the-top than pageant night at a Drag club, like this:

Really, it’s just another sort of drag, if it’s not a genuine passion* – and if it a genuine passion, then learn all about it! Embrace it fully! Wrap yourself up in it so thoroughly that you choke on the wealth of information and activity available to you! Don’t just go through the motions.

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*Drag can absolutely be a passion of its own, and is a marvelous art form. What I mean, properly, is putting on clothes, actions, and attitudes to fulfill a role that you may or may not wish to fulfill.

Tagged: Gender Expression, Gender Issues, Heteronormativity, Masculinity, QUILTBAG, The Boys

Poetic Interlude XXVIII

Scritchety-Scratchety

Tyler J. Yoder is

Steadily scribbling

Sonnets and such.

Despite description of

Phantasmagorical

Fancies and follies,

He’s such a lush.

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

A Response

First and foremost, I have to thank WordPress for featuring me on Freshly Pressed. I have had more traffic this week than I’ve ever seen, and it’s been magnificent. I sit here, constantly clicking refresh and watching the numbers soar ever higher. I feel like Victoria Elizabeth Barnes, and it’s glamorous. Welcome, all you brand-new glorious Gentle Readers. I hope you stick around, or at least go back to the utter beginning and read every single post. Twice, if you love me. There’s also the ever-so-tempting option of helping to fund my adventures or buy my book.

Speaking of ancient posts from many, many months ago, when I started this blog, there was a bit of family trouble. We had to visit a lawyer regarding our options about a very unpleasant situation with my grandfather’s widow. Feelings were running high, and I couldn’t cope. I started drinking at two thirty in the afternoon, and posted this by five. Go ahead and take a minute to read it, if you haven’t already, because it’s currently the second-most viewed post on this blog, right after the one featured over on Freshly Pressed. You may also want to check out the comment section, and my new friend Sally Mae.

My perspective on this situation (the Sally Mae situation, not the situation described in the post) is probably a little skewed, because all of this just happened, and I’m a little shaken up by the whole thing, but I believe that I tried to explain that I wrote the post from a very hurt place, and the situation with Lillian has somewhat stabilized since then.

Frankly, if I’d remembered the damned post was still up, all these months later, I would have pulled it.

So, Sally Mae, while you may have spoken to family members at the funeral, they were not necessarily giving their true opinions. I know that I was exhausted that day, and having an anxiety attack, and murmuring polite nonsense to well-wishers and fellow mourners, whose faces all blurred together.  Funerals are wearying.

What’s more, Sally Mae, there are a lot of stories that I could tell you about people’s actions that do seem a little cruel. I can understand Lillian’s fear that we were out for money or the house – which was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. What we were out for were old letters, photographs, and heirlooms – things that she was sorting through, on her own, without a member of the family there to help her know what might be important and what not. I know for a fact that several items were taken to Goodwill, and feelings were deeply hurt on both sides. After the initial lawyer’s visit, to determine our options, we collectively decided to drop the matter, not because we didn’t have a case, but because it seemed unkind.

I suspect, Sally, that the “karma” you called upon is in actuality me being further disinherited for speaking from a place of hurt and anger, and I suspect that a little bird might be helping that “karma” along. As I’d mentioned in one of the comments on the other post, though, a dialogue has opened since that point in time, and I have received some very precious heirlooms. The record collection I was so keen to acquire, for example, I now have, as well as my grandfather’s jewelry box – which, when I opened it, had a hand-written note saying “For Tyler” in it, causing me to cry, right in front of Lillian. She started crying, too; we hugged.

Perhaps you don’t know as much of the story as you think, darling. I’ve been trying very hard to see things from your point of view; I hope you’ll do the me the courtesy of trying to see things from mine.

 

Tagged: Death, drama, Family Stories That Are Completely True, Full Disclosure, non-whimsy, Two-part Episodes

In Film

Gentle Reader, I was once a film star.

Only briefly, mind, and it was a silly little production we undertook for a party, but we did have a professional crew and director; there was an actual premier, and I was accosted by an adoring fan. The statement’s true, but on a much smaller scale than it sounds like.

Miss Ward and I came up with the concept, and the very brief script – we had decided on a silent film, so actual dialogue didn’t much matter. Ms. Capere undertook the project with her fledgling production company, Leap Second Pictures, and we set dates for filming. Some of the crew had to take on multiple roles – Miss K , who plays Mrs. Cogsworth,  is seen here, assisting with makeup.

Mr. LaBouef, whose main duty was something technical that I don’t really understand, was willing to step in as the face of British Mars, a vital role in the film.

Miss S, who played a nameless member of the expedition’s crew (the one who vanishes halfway through the jungle scene and NO ONE NOTICES) – well, she doubles as the Cogsworth’s daughter. No one notices that, either.

We began filming, as one does, and being behind the scenes is tedious. Reshooting scenes, take after take after take – it’s damned exhausting. Striking sets is probably the most exciting part – it means that you’re making progress. We had some top-notch special effects, too – including the magic of green screen.

Naturally, as the star of the film – the titular Professor, after all – I was absolutely dashing. Heavens, how dashing!

Unfortunately, the film wasn’t quite ready in time for the event it was designed for – the Victorian Technological Exposition – but it enjoyed a successful première at  a coffee-house in Seattle, as well as being screened at that underground gothic dance club, the Mercury. All in all, a fairly successful première.

Though not available online, I believe that copies of The Madcap Adventures of Professor Cogsworth – in the year 1950! are still available for sale, somewhere on the internet. However, the outtakes from filming are available to view for free. Here you are, Gentle Reader.

Tagged: Arts, Movie Star, Movies, Silent film, Silliness, Steampunk, The Madcap Adventures Of Professor Cogsworth In The Year 1950

In Which I Apparently Date Girls

What topsy-turvy bizarro world is this, Gentle Reader? Though not quite a platinum gay*, I am very nearly a solid six on the Kinsey Scale. What on earth would I be doing dating a woman?

I’m not just talking about my closeted attempts at heterosexuality, either – although neither of those went very well. In my defense, I was very young, insecure, and hated being touched. Both of these “relationships” were over very quickly – for some reason, refusing to do anything more than hold hands just isn’t what the ladies want. After a week with Miss Wong and a month with Miss Ward, I realized that wooing women just wasn’t my way.

   

Fast forward many, many years – years in which I was not only out, but actively involved with the Ex-Husband. During one of our innumerable separations, I ended up dating… Miss K.

The reasons were many, but the primary motivations were mirth and malice.  We had a mutual friend who was irrationally jealous of our closeness – to the point of creepy obsession. The day we began dating, we took her to dinner to announce our decision. It didn’t actually stop her frankly insane behavior, but it was very gratifying to see her face when B realized that she wasn’t the girl who could turn me†.

Further, K and I had been the only two queers involved with Coven Wolf/Clan Wolfenstein/ The Jemily crew, and we were well aware that despite their progressive talk of tolerance and respect, they were actively uncomfortable being around anything outside their comfort blanket of heteronormativity – they made it perfectly clear. K and I went full June and Ward Cleaver on them, our behavior exactly opposite to our usual ways.

They were thrilled with our little charade, and ecstatic that we were “finally able to be [our] true selves.” We laughed it off and reverted to type.

Despite being a complete farce, the time I spent dating Miss K has got to be one of the most fulfilling, successful relationships I’ve ever had. She still makes an excellent partner – in crime.

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* A platinum gay is born via c-section, and has never ever even once seen or touched a vagina. You’re welcome.

† This may seem cruel. It probably is cruel. However, I think that years of delusional demands, stalking, and being constantly cornered for highly emotional and highly unnecessary talks are also cruel, and being nice hadn’t gotten them to stop. For the record, being cruel didn’t get them to stop, either – the only thing that has is actively refusing to see the person in question, at all, ever, for any reason, even in group settings. She still tries.

Tagged: Dating, Ex-Husband, Heteronormativity, Kinsey Scale, LGBT, QUILTBAG, Relationship

Poetic Interlude XXVII

Indecision

Maybe I drift, and maybe I dream,

And maybe I twist, and maybe I scheme,

And maybe it’s all for naught.

Maybe the days are meaningless chores,

Or maybe they’re dramas that Wagner adores,

Or maybe I’ve lost the plot.

Maybe minutia and everyday zeal

And maybe the numinous hope that you feel

Are spray of a fickle tide –

Maybe I’m lost, or maybe I’m strong;

Maybe I’ve really been right all along -

Maybe I need to decide.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

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Tagged: Art, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Venus, Wagner, Writing