A long, long time ago—back in August?—I got an email from a reader named Asha, (1) asking where I came up with the name “alphafemme” and (2) saying that before she’d even read any of my blog, she felt a click—the word alphafemme, she thought, worked really well for her, and would I be offended if she appropriated it for herself. I promised her a post on the subject, and it is woefully overdue.

Let me first address the second thing—if the word alphafemme seems like a good fit for you in your identity, and even if your reasons for finding it a good fit are completely different from the reasons I will articulate below, by all means, if it feels good to you, use it. I think there’s a huge difference between deciding that alphafemme works as an identity label for you (which I would not call appropriation), and deciding you’re also going to publish a blog under the title “alphafemme” and write about (many of) the same things I write about or telling people that you’re me (which I would call appropriation). I would guess that most people are not inclined to do the latter, but I fully endorse the former! Run away with it people!

And now I’ll go back to the first thing, which is where I came up with the name “alphafemme” in the first place. I address this a bit on my About page (which needs updating anyway), but let me go into a bit more detail here.

After the obligatory coming out identity crisis, which I think many (if not most) queer women go through at some point or other (and I think this in itself is fascinating, and I totally want to write about this too), I started grappling with that all-important question: Who Am I? And maybe I have less self-awareness than most, but it took me quite a lot of trial and error to come to an understanding of my identity that felt right. I guess that was part of what I wanted this blog to do for me, to help me go through it all and decide what works for me and what doesn’t. And while I’ve (for now) finally settled on femme as a sort of umbrella-word for how I identify, it was hardly easy to come to terms with that.

I’m sure part of the insecurity in identifying as femme was internalized sexism, that some of the fear had to do with not wanting to choose what might seem to others to be “unenlightened” or, worse, hurting feminism. I’ve pretty much gotten over that now (see my post on femininity for a discussion of that), thank goodness, and am now fiercely, comfortably, and even subversively feminine.

But another major qualm I had with identifying as femme was this fear that I somehow didn’t actually know what femme meant, and that I would be scoffed at by other self-identified femmes for identifying as such. (“YOU’RE not femme, you have short hair!” or “but I hardly ever see you in dresses! that’s not really femme!” or “femmes don’t strap on! femmes don’t do the fucking!”) In San Francisco, it seems to me like everyone I’ve met who identifies as femme fits a certain image: dyed blonde or raven black hair, porcelain white skin, bright red lipstick, fishnets, tattoos… And believe me, these ladies are smokin’, but it’s just not my look. And so I was like, well, if that’s what femme is, then I’m not femme. (There are, of course, many other femme-identified ladies in SF who do also do not fit that particular description, as I’ve come to realize. Yay!)

And yet it still appealed to me. I still felt that my mild obsession with high heeled-peep-toe pumps and my growing infatuation with cooking still somehow made femme the right word for me. But since I was still kind of hesitant, it needed a qualifier. Something that made my identity mine.

It came to me last summer when I was watching old episodes of The L Word with a friend of mine, reminiscing about the pre-Dana’s-death days of the show. Or, rather, it came to my friend. We were watching one of the episodes where Bette is dealing with the protestors to her gallery’s art show. My friend turned to me and said, “she reminds me of you, she’s such an alpha female.”

“What does THAT mean?” I asked.

“Well… you’re strong, and fierce, and driven, and you’re always on top of everything, always in control. And you dress sharply feminine, powerful. But you’re also vulnerable, I think, I mean right? Don’t you sometimes just want someone to hold you and have someone else be the stronger one?”

And oh. my. god. YES. She was so right. I think my similarities to Bette end there (I’m not a raging bitch who cheats on my lovers in order to maintain a facade of Control Freak, and unfortunately I look nothing like her), but such as they are, the similarities ring so true. And “alpha” is an excellent way of describing me. I’m confident in my intellect, and I am meticulous, in control, ambitious, and driven. But I’m not just alpha. I’m alphafemme. I’m an alpha who wants to be enfolded at the end of the day. I’m an alpha who loves to pretend I’m a 50s housewife, a la Betty Draper, but happier (I’m currently obsessed with Mad Men). I’m an alpha with soft eyes and a maternal edge. I’m an alpha, with femme. Alphafemme.

Of course, to you, it can mean anything you want it to. If it conjures anything else for you, please share!

So I’m committed. That’s what I decided a week ago. Except I forgot all week. I didn’t fail, I wavered. But I’m committed.

Just like I’m committed to flossing, reading for 30 minutes before bed and joining the gym (again).

I’m starting this week  with a quote, product and movie debated, dissected and discussed at Scrabble Night.  And this week, I’m committed.

Technically this is a phrase from The L Word, but we use it so much, it feels like ours.   All you have to do to beat the boys at Scrabble is have a little “Nipple Confidence” (especially when you’re the only female team).  Works every time.

The Snuggie Some of the crew loves it and some hate it.  I’m a lover.  I own one.  But I do see the hate team’s side.  I mean, can’t we just wear our robe’s backwards?

Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t seen Ghostbusters.  I grew up with the cartoon, but never saw the movie.  In my defense, it did come out the year after I was born…

After I mentioned this fact (which I didn’t think was that big of a deal), all activity was halted and Scrabble Night turned into movie night (apparently it was a big deal).

And now, I have a new favorite in my top 5.

Het is een bedenking die ik me de laatste tijd noodgedwongen moet maken bij het mannelijk volk dat zich in mijn richting werkt. Maar wat me daarbij nog meer zorgen baart: “Waaraan ligt dit?” Zijn we ondertussen al zover in de tijd gevorderd dat alle stevige steuren uit de vijver zijn gehengeld en dat er enkel nog sprot overschiet? Of heb ik nu een zwaar vertekend beeld gekregen van wat mijn zinnen nog enigszins kan prikkelen? Het kan ook liggen aan mijn stoere blik waarmee ik de nacht in trek, beducht op net-iets-te-veel-willers, maar waardoor ik ook net iets te veel mijn mannelijke kant toon en zo de net iets te vrouwelijke types aantrek. Oordeelt u zelf maar.

Hij houdt vlak voor mij halt en steekt één hand hoog en stopgewijs in de lucht. “Nee maar, wat hebben we hier?” Versteend in die pose laat hij zijn ogen gretig over mijn lijf glijden van boven naar beneden, en terug. Ik laat luchtig, doch gemeend, verstaan dat ik niet opgezet ben met die vrijpostigheid, waarop hij zijn glas whiskey-cola dropt naast mijn mazout. “Mazout? Maar kind toch, dat is zo… margi!” Zijn oogballen gaan alle kanten uit en er komt net geen “uhu” achteraan. Ik kijk achterom naar vriendin, laat een seconde mijn onderkaak vallen en schudt verbaasd vragend m’n hoofd. Als ik me omdraai, is zijn neus nog twee centimeter van de mijne verwijderd. Zijn adem ruikt zuur. Zijn accent veel te Gents. Dit moet een grap zijn. Een weddenschap, ja. Voor een gang-bangbeurt van zijn vier vriendjes die nu ongeveer achter een hoek plat liggen. Toch grijns ik, uitgedaagd door zijn farse teut, en begin een discussie over het al dan niet marginale aspect van een mazout. Nog meer theatraal vertoon. Grappig, dat wel. Maar so not masculine. Bovendien merkt vriendin op dat hij een zjielee draagt met ouderwetse knopen. Wie anders draagt nu nog v-hals-zjielees met knopen? Ik moest haar gelijk geven.

Niet zo ostentatief maar toch ook niet vrij van twijfel:

Hij komt het station uitgespurt op een manier waarop ik zelfs nog niet loop. Zijn leren jekker sluit nauw aan rond zijn horizontaal gestreept spannend truitje (leer ik later). En de broek laat ook al niet veel tot de verbeelding over. De stem had me al eerder teleurgesteld, met een lichte lispel en een stuntelige poging tot AN. Niet zozeer de zinsbouw of de woordkeuze, want die is prima op niveau, maar die uitspraak is zo… erover gewoon. Zeer vriendelijk en rustig, vastberaden ogen die je blinde vlek lijken te zoeken terwijl je je levensvisie prijsgeeft. Net als een goeie vriendin dat zou doen, als ze meelevend luistert. Het zittende plaatje klopt al helemaal niet: ik met één voet steunend op de andere knie, hij met het ene been strak over het andere. Zo net iets te afgeborsteld, te correct, te gevoelig. Te vrouwelijk?

Okay so lately when I think of love, Kate Moenning instantly comes to mind.

Her part of Shane on the L Word completely merged with Kate Moenning’s existence, which had once been its own, unique and separate being.  I am sure that this gets extremely annoying for Kate, but come on, who can’t look at her and remember all the endless nights they have laid in bed getting off as Shane worked her magic, winning over the hearts of so many beautiful ladies.

Now I am not into the whole player thing, so it is not that trait of Shane’s that entices me, rather it is her ability to comfort, understand, and not judge.  Yes, she gets caught up in drama, but it is only because she is so true to herself and follows her natural instincts like a wild animal–i freaking love that. She is not fake, you know who she is; Shane is the ultimate example of “what you see is what you get,” and it is this trait that I admire most.

As far as Kate’s role in the L word, I think I am one of the very few people that always wanted to see Shane and Jenny together.  However, I really wish that Carmen had come back into the picture =\ Those two were so in love!  Now, about the whole Molly thing??? Sorry but I totally didn’t get that! However, the relationship and chemistry aside, I did absolutely love Molly’s reaction when Shane “flirted” with another girl at the bar in an attempt to break it off with Molly (because of Molly’s mother’s threats.)

Let’s recap:

Molly, “So what do girls do now, throw their drink in your face?”

Shane, “Yah, some do.”

Molly, “Well I’m not going to do that.  You don’t deserve that, you deserve compassion.”

[Then Molly basically tells Shane that she is not going to try and change her, that's something Shane needs to do for herself.  She tells Shane good luck figuring her shit out, and that maybe she'll still be around when she finally does.]

In those lines, Molly  proves that she gets Shane more than any other girl that Shane was ever with in the L Word.  Molly is not trying to shape Shane into the kind of girl she needs.  She is not trying to pretend that Shane is something she is not.  She completely understands Shane’s personality and recognizes that Shane, like us all, is a human with flaws– a human who’s sometimes unfortunate experiences have shaped her.  Molly reminds Shane, however, that those unfortunate moments, although they are a part of her, do not have to permanently set her fate, but that shaping that fate is something that Shane has to do on her own. The viewer is reminded that once again it proves true that “you can not truly love another until you love yourself.” Even people who have experienced terrible circumstances and have acted in immoral ways deserve compassion.  And compassion, in my book, is what it is all about. <3

So without further ado, I love Kate Moenning, her character on the L Word intrigues me, and although I was not a Molly fan, I think she shared a lot of important reminders for Shane, as well as for the viewers. Molly was a glimpse of hope, which was often a rare occurrence in the L Word given its drama and often “taboo” and outlandish actions and events.

So when all of you think of love on this beautiful morning, no matter who comes to mind, remember to show compassion to that person and to all people. We all deserve compassion and we all deserve a fair chance to shape our future for the better. <3 PEACE.HOPE.LOVE.

We stopped checking for monsters under our bed
because we realized they were inside us.

So there’s this show that I have fallen in absolute love with.
The L Word.
I am only on the 4th season out of 6, but it has already become part of my life.
Anyway, here is one of my favorite quotes I pulled from Season One.

I’m sitting in a chair, writing in agony.
A demon, a minor demon, is pinning me there
fucking with my head. Abraxas, he says..
I’m Abraxas, the demon of lies and decent.

So, what do you want to know about lies my dear?

I’m not a liar.
I try again to get up this time I’m flayed,
splayed.
I feel myself screaming.

I’ll tell you about lies.
There are white lies and black lies, and many
shades of grey lies. Some lies are justified.
Lies told out of kindness, lies that preserve
dignity, lies that spare pain.

Everybody’s a liar, dear..
cause everybodys somebodys fool.

We are all connected through love, through loneliness, through one tiny lamented in judgment.

]]> http://queenofthecastle.wordpress.com/2009/11/19/back-in-kiwiland/ Wed, 18 Nov 2009 23:49:30 +0000 brooke http://queenofthecastle.wordpress.com/2009/11/19/back-in-kiwiland/

So it’s three weeks since I landed back here.  Here’s what’s been happening:

Started work (3 days later).

Climbed a glacier for 8 hours (4 days later).

Rode to the lake and back (24kmish, 9 days later).

Joined the gym (also 9 days later).

Went to gym (multiple times… cannot remember days.  Am giving up chronological scale).

Fell over swiss balls at gym.  Other girl in gym was not sure whether to laugh or not.  She did in the end.

Got mad at customers at work (multiple times… and it hasn’t even been 3 weeks!).

My L Word DVDS arrived in the mail!  I ordered them off Amazon the Saturday after I got back to NZ, expecting them not to get here till mid-late December, but they arrived last week.  The parcel didn’t have my name on it so two of my colleagues checked to see what was in it so we could work out who it was for.  Suddenly I hear giggling and ‘Uh…Brooke, did you order some dvds?’  Gossip.  I can starts it

Have been catching up with friends and trying to learn everyone’s names at work.  There are about 60 employees, and fewer than 10 are still there from last time I worked there (3 years ago).  That’s a lot of names, especially when 4 are called Rob, and another 3 are some form of John/Jonathan.  I suppose that’s actually fewer names, but it makes it a hell of a lot harder to remember who’s who.  I’m trying to make sort of mnemonics to help me.  For example, there’s a guy called Jack.  I remember his name coz he has a beard like Hodgins from Bones.  I will not be telling him this.

Most folks are nice, and it’s cool to have the familiar faces around that I’ve known for years.  I’m also enjoying being in a flat.  My flattie is cool (we’ve worked together before) and we pretty much do our own thing mostly so far!  I’ve lived on my own before, but somehow I feel more grown-up etc this time around.

I haven’t got the internet at home atm (trying to work out whether it would be worth getting a vodem.  Any thoughts?) so that’s why the blogging hasn’t been happening so much, but I usually visit the netcafe at least once a week so I’ll try to keep up to date!

I’ve been up in the ‘big smoke’ the last couple of days staying with my dad.  Went up to the ‘bigger smoke’ yesterday to visit the Warehouse coz I have a queen bed in my flat and only single sheets, so I’ve been sleeping in my sleeping bag for the last two and a half weeks.  So yesterday I bought a duvet and a cover and sheets and an underlay and towels, and left feeling all grown-up lol.  Can’t wait to go home and make my room look more home-y.  I also got very sunburnt yesterday.  I’d bought all that stuff and still had like 2 hours before the bus came so I found a cafe in the sun and had lunch.  Outside.  For 1.5 hours.  I am so stupid.  One day I will die of skin cancer and it will serve me right!  My weird birthmark is now clearly visible again (a strip of skin running down my left arm that never tans) and looks like I tried to get arty with some sunscreen. o.O

Anyway!  It is almost bus time to ferry me back home, so I will go.  But first, because Holly requested it:

Yes Holly, I know. 

I haven’t read any other reviews of this game – I bought it because, well, Gamer loyalty and everything. Had the game since about three weeks after it first came out but haven’t played as much as I did with Sims 2 (due to having more of a life now) but here are some thoughts and observations anyway.

After playing some of the pre-made Sims, I created The Shaws:
Catherine Shaw – elderly
Robyn Shaw – young adult
David Shaw – teen
Henry Shaw – kid

Catherine reached level 9 in her medical career before dying a rather sad death. She wasn’t electrocuted or burned in a fire, she didn’t starve to death, she just died whilst watching TV. The creepy grim reaper came by joined by creepy music and I desperately try to click on the grim reaper to see if there was an option to beg for the soul of Catherine but there wasn’t. The poor old lass chilled in her epitaph in her old room until one night the ghost of Catherine Shaw popped right out of that beautifully engraved tomb and began exercising on Henry’s bike, chatting to people online and watching TV in the same place she died. She comes back every few nights and just hangs around the house. She speaks to the kids and none of them get scared when they see her. Catherine even eats food. Didn’t know ghosts could do that.

Robyn reached the top of the cooking career before she became an adult. Throughout her young adult years she tried to find someone to be in a relationship but found that every guy she spoke to was either in a relationship already or they had no chemistry (happy thoughts and relationship +’s when they spoke. She came across Maddison in the cemetery, whilst looking for rocks! Madisson was a slightly overweight lady with no job as I found out when I had her move in with The Shaws.

David, on the other hand had spent his entire life scared of social surroundings. He painted in his spare time locked away in his room and worked part-time at the cemetery. No one but ghosts to bother him there. When he met a local muscular guy on the criminal career track they hit it off. David soon saw the reality of that relationship and decided he didn’t want his partner arrested at all hours of the night for his dity dealings. So, when Maddison moved in, she brought her friend Ayesha with her. Ayesha was single… and I have yet to see what happens between them two but I hope they hit it off more than criminal guy.

Henry was a budding writer from the get go. A more extrovert character than his brother David, more of an academic than an artist. However, by his young adult life, he had published five or six books and was in a relationship with the beautiful Bella. Once the two were young adults, Bella moved in and got a job in the politics career. I didn’t play much with this guy because I was too caught up in finding the other two people to date! He seemed fine with working at the bookstore, going to school, having a girlfriend and writing at his own accord.

Work
It’s pretty easy to get jobs now – you can pop into the grocery store, bookstore or even the graveyard to get a part-time job. There are also more options when searching for a job online and through the paper – roughly 5 career tracks available per day rather than 3 in the Sims 2. Part-time jobs are usually four hour shifts and actually earn you quite a lot of cash if you live a simple life.

Skills
Climbing the corporate ladder seems easier too! I managed to get my elderly Sim, Catherine to level ten of logic months (I’m guessing in Sims time!) before she suddenly died. I did however missed out on level 10 of her medical career, which was her big wish – maybe the logic studying aged her more quickly. I’ve discovered with level 10 of logic, Sims can tutor other Sims as far as they know of the skill – so Catherine only knew up to level 5 of cooking, so she tutored Robyn up to level 5 of cooking. On an additional note, if you want your sims to excercise but don’t have the money for a treadmill then you can click anywhere in town and tell your sim to run there.

Money
I’ve found that my sims earn too much money! They always say you can never have enough money. Robyn bought a share of her opposing restaurant and earns about $1,000 a month from doing nothing. David sells his paintings, Henry sells his novels and short stories. With Bella, Ayesha and Madisson all living there, it’ll work out to lots more! Robyn comes home three days a week with well over $1,000 for a few hours work – pays off getting those promotions! I honestly don’t know what to spend all the money on besides moving the whole family to new houses and decorating them, buying cars, books, etc.

Collecting
There’s a neat addition to The Sims 3 that let’s you collect things. Butterflies, rocks, gems and so on. If you earn enough life points, you can buy a reward that lets you see where all the collectibles are in the town you’re living. I bought this for Robyn, which is how she ended up at the cemetery one night collecting gems. Call it fate. You can also go fishing now and you can sell your fish to the grocery store or store it in your fridge for sushi and other unusual meals that require “vampire fish.”

Other neat things
The laptops are cool. When I was at another house I saw that the sims carried their laptops from one place to another, I have yet to see my sims do that though. You can donate to charities through the post box now too – even if you don’t donate just clicking on the post box and seeing random charity names can be quite amusing. Bikes exist in the sims, one of my kids (in a different family) didn’t even own a bike but one appeared and she rode it to the library one afternoon.
Fun

Of hij mijn brieven die ik voor hem schreef soms wilde.

Gooi maar in de vuilnisbak, zei hij.

They call a girl who hits on someone’s boyfriend – a slut (I am pretty sure there are more creative names around but well, “slut” is solely for exemplary purpose here, I am not calling names here or have an intention to degrade anyone). I, on the other hand, disagree. I believe it takes more than a slut to wreck a good, stable relationship. Okay, maybe two sluts and above. Or another way to look at it, the relationship could be fcuked up at the first place.

Let’s see.. What about the guy? The one who let girls hitting on him knowing that he has a girlfriend. So what now, “don’t blame the player, blame the game?”

And, we have ‘the girlfriend’. I wouldn’t see her as a victim per say. I mean, you do not know what you do not know – right? Just a bad luck of run perhaps. But when she finds out the truth, ugly or not, she better run (Oh, and prior to leaving, causing some form of physical pain to mr. ex-boyfriend is not that bad of an idea).

It’s not okay to do something just because everyone is doing it. It’s not okay to just go with the saying, “if you can’t beat them, join them”. It’s not okay to play with feelings, cos you’ll end up hurting more than just your own.

Para aquella que se enteraron, y quienes no, es porque viven bajo tierra, Katherine Moennig tiene nuevo programa. Y no, no tiene que ver con nada ABSOLUTAMENTE nada gay. Creo que esto último fue más noticia que lo primero, qué chistoso. Supongo que esto se debió a que… es SHANE! por Dios, es todo un personaje. Es decir, ok, podríamos ver a… no sé, digamos Jennifer Beals en otro programa [como... Lie to Me], haciendo de ex-esposa del protagonista, y lo creeríamos. O sea, lo creeríamos más que Shane haciéndola de hetero en una serie completamente hetero acerca de doctores. Entonces de verdad no es sorpresa que el mundo seguidor de The L Word haya hecho tanto alboroto acerca de esta noticia. Y yo me incluyo en ese “mundo”.

No sé si ya lo platiqué pero tengo como 2 amigas gays muuy cercanas, de hecho como que durante el último año se han vuelto de mis mejores amigas. Pero el punto es que a las dos les encanta Katherine Moennig, y una de ellas se refiere siempre a ella como “Shane”. Así que se me quedó la costumbre, perdón. Cuando me enteré de que iba a salir en una nueva serie les dije a estas amigas. Luego, cuando salieron las fotos promocionales se la mandé, y también estuvieron de acuerdo en que el cabello largo es un FAIL grandísimo. Al mismo tiempo estaban un tanto intrigadas por ver cómo salía Shane Kate de “buga” [término que significa hetero.... lo siento es que no sé si sea popular]. Y hace como 1 mes nos enteramos de que iban a pasar la serie, Three Rivers, por Univeral Channel aquí en México. Muuucha emoción, sobretodo de su parte.

Total que cada vez que pasaban un promo de la serie checábamos y rechecábamos la fecha de estreno: 28 de octubre. ¡Ya es el próximo miércoles! ¡Ya es en dos días! ¡Ya es mañana! Y aunque ayer, miércoles 28 de octubre tenía una cantidad que sólo puede ser descrita con una grosería de tarea, tenía examen de mate y muuuy poco tiempo, nada me impidió prender mi tele a las 9 de la noche. Bueno, también necesité 4 llamadas de estas amigas que para recordarme que era a las 9, que empezaba en media hora, en 20 minutos, en 10 minutos, que ya me bajara por el amor de Dios.

Así que pasé una hora viendo a una Shane con peluca, bata, y ropa de doctor que se le veía muy gay, peleándose con un señor que se llamaba Drinkwater LOL. La serie me gustó, no creo poder verla  taaan regularmente, pero de vez en cuando estará bien. Pero mi punto es que toda la experiencia previa, durante y subsecuente al programa fue en extremo divertida. Los comentarios entre mis amigas y yo fueron más o menos así: “En cualquier momento le va a tirar la onda a la enfermera”, “Yo me quiero llamar Drinkwater… o mejor DrinkVodka”, “Su cabello es raro”, “Su cabello me empieza a molestar”, “¿Por qué le cambiaron el cabello?”, “Carmeeeeen ¿dónde estás?”, “Mientras no le metan un novio por ahí, todo correcto… so weird”, etc etc etc.

Yo había dicho que Shane realmente no tenía ningún efecto en mí. Hasta llegué a pensar que me molestaba un poco [perdón]. Pero ahora puedo decir que la amo, no como mis amigas, claro está, sino creo que se ha convertido en un ícono de nuestra comunidad, y como todo ícono, hace más cercanos a los miembros de esa comunidad. Osease hace que mis amigas y yo nos pasemos un excelente rato. Gracias Kate

I have been neglecting my blog ever since this quarter of grad school started. Which I regret. I have rehearsal in less than an hour for “click here 4 slideshow or 6-8 character limit,” the piece previously entitled “3 boys & an old prophetess,” to be premiered in a couple of weeks in Anthro(pop)ology II at Columbus Dance Theater downtown. The piece is devastatingly beautiful, and rocking with pop culture. This is one project on which I am working, and hopefully in the next half hour I will have time to share some info about a few other things I’ve been doing.

I am creating a new piece right now with three amazing dancers (Erik Abbott-Main, Eric Falck, and Amanda Platt). I feel like I hardly know what to say about this piece yet. The creative process is very different than anything I have ever made before. It reminds me modes of approach that we explored in a “creative processes” course with Bebe Miller in the spring. In the spring this way of working was so foreign, and frankly frustrating. It has to do with pursuing points of interesting, interrogating those interests through exploration, and spending time with a thing to discover what it is rather than starting out with a concept to materialize. In a previous post I detailed the list of interests in between which this piece is evolving. Rehearsal have involved exploring some Butoh, enacting KNOW(TOUCH)ME(YOU)(MY/YOUR BODY), a piece I designed last year intended to privilege the body as the site of identity and interpersonal knowledge, learning and repeating movement material, discussions, writing exercises, degrees of undressing, watching video clips (Uma Thurman’s way of moving in Kill Bill vol. 2, a kind of snapping wispy-ness, the cooch dancers in Carnivale, a kind of disinterested, detached, and almost clumsy attempt at sexy, and the angry crowd of men watching Jenny strip at the end of season 2 of The L Word, my source material for escalating angry gestures, the kind that are demanding intimacy; all of these have shades of movement interest that relate to the movement I’ve been generating for the piece.)

If there is an idea or concept about which the piece seems to be orbiting, it is “getting inside who one another are,” through movement material (by learning my movement the other dancers in the piece are accessing something of my identity), by biting (coming from my interest in the vampire craze in pop culture, but also relating to a forceful entry, and welcome intrusion), undressing/being undressed/perhaps redressing in someone else’s clothes or literally getting inside their clothes with them, writing and reading (personal body histories adapted from Andrea Olsen’s Body Stories, and answering a series of questions offered below), etc.

Some of the questions we’ve answered and shared with on another (maybe you would like to answer them and post them as a comment, contributing to creative research?):

“My body is _____.”

“Sex is _____.”

“A man is _____.”

“A woman is _____.”

“I am ashamed of _____.”

Describe when you were most happy, or a memory of a time when you were truly happy.

Finally, I can offer a video clip of our progress. It is a rough cut, mainly for our own purposes of seeing and analyzing the movement, but I offer it as further insight into what is being made. Enjoy: