Sunday, February 21, 2016

Anita Give Some Praise To A Very Special Lady.

Let me introduce you to my gorgeous sister, Anita Mann.

My sister and I have an act that can not flop. My sister and are headed straight for the top. I wish my sister and I earned a 'thou (at least a week) oh, yeah. I am happy to say that this bitch is far from deceased...Pardon my terrible attempt at a broadway joke, but it was needed. Me and Anita go back to yesteryear together and I am grateful for the way we became a drag family.  

"Sometimes all you need is a party hat to keep yourself afloat," is legitimately the first thing I remember she ever said to me. Anita and I go far enough back that I knew her skinny ass before I even was open about my dream to be a lady of the night.This gorgeous piece is the older, twisted scissor sister that I always wanted. 

Our artistic trajectories have crossed paths so many times, that the natural born "competition driven" theater queen in us knows our balanced strengths so well in one another. It's nice to not have to be in competition with another queer man in this town because you see each other as equals. Typically queer-mo's get all puffy chested and snide to one another if their talent is threatened, but with my sister it's just never been the case. No weird gay boy stuff, no male superiority complexes, and no aggressive romantic gestures were exchanged between the both of us and I can't express how lovely it is to have a guy in my life that just wants to platonically genderfuck the world together.  

I've made a lot of choices lately to wean out some bad energy in toxic friendships and replacing it with my ambition to really get dragging around Walla Walla, indefinitely. Anita has had my back all the way through my recent metamorphosis just by telling me that I am good enough.Theater is everything we live for and it's so nice to share it with a person who doesn't have a real chocha! (No Offense Ladies, I just like to be effeminate with dudes sometimes, too.)  

I am so lucky to have a friend who can teach me how to dramatise every crevice of my man face to fool the world that I am a Queen like no other! Some shady queens would just leave me with both garage doors open, a pat on the ass, and rosary beads to pray for some help...But my sister didn't stray! She is helping me with the tricks of the trade and I am so thankful for that.  

The only thing we can do is make each other better men who like to dress up like women. I am beyond ecstatic about the drag community we are building together here in podunk Walla Walla, Washington. Never in my life did I think I would have the gumption to put on a pair of cha-cha heels while fake singing and dancing in the middle of a conservative area such as ours. All my life I have been dreaming of this and it's finally coming true! Now, all I want for my birthday is to donate to a good cause, dance in my pannies all night, and let my sister have center stage and show Walla what she is truly made of. So let's fucking SLAY, queen. 

I clichely conclude by saying I really couldn't do this without Anita! I'm so glad we're back in the saddle again! Thanks for being born talented or whatever....haha

Kisses! Xx'


Saturday, February 20, 2016

Beginnings of a short Political Essay

Voters 'R' Us

What happened to the good old days when asking a random individual who they were planning on voting for president was considered rude? For years, even before I was legally capable, I have hesitated on voting for president because a huge chunk of me felt like that stereotypical homo in the back of the room making a spectacle of my political insecurities and trying to push an agenda I felt was an obligation conducted by people I knew nothing about. I was surrounded by people who assumed I was a part of a political party based off of my choice to be open about my sexual preference, who I associated with, but nothing on what I talked about or thought. How I saw it was, my voice was taken away by a lot of people who had categorized me (and still do no matter what affiliation they deem their own) because all they see is "Gay Rights" and "Gender Equality" when they look into my "politically ignorant" eyes. After that, I swore in my young ignorance to never register to vote in my life.

I am sure it's no surprise that just about everyone I knew had a say on how I am giving up an American right to vote for our Nation's Commander and Chief or that I have no room to complain about the tribulations in the upcoming administrations if I don't embark on my civic duty. I have had a hard time agreeing with such naysayers my whole life and have a good reason as to why.

The hardest part for me was to hide from every politically active person in my life to avoid the same conversations. To me they were the ones who were taking my voice away by expressing their own and I tried to not be emotional about it. I gave them the power and I let them keep it for a very long time because I could not separate myself cognitively from what I feel is right and wrong. Why would what matters to me seem legitimate to anyone if my obvious stereotype already spoke for my personal political policies? So I turned my cheek to politics, not out of lack of understanding of the game, but out of disappointment from my fellow American citizens not allowing me to express my political freedoms how I was taught to.

As of recent I realized how entitled I must have come across to others due to my (recently abolished) anti-government tryst I thought was the answer for myself. It was a terrifying ride that introduced a lot of realities I needed to be aware of, stripped me down of my own privilege, and showed me a lot about what matters more than my own struggles that I am more than grateful to have learned than I can express in words. But, it was also an awakening of my politically savvy self I forgot had existed.

I luckily have overcome such angst ridden views and really have started to realize I don't need anyone to tell me my political voice matters anymore. I recognize I have no political obligations to anyone but myself and what I believe is right for our country. All I need is my brain, my tenacity, and my eyes to make my own decision if I choose to make it. Politics have given me a gift that I think a lot of people have forgotten existed. Privacy.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Capsul 2

My Queer Best Friend

 This is a very different story of boy meets girl.

It was envious lust at first sight. We had no idea why, but we hated and loved each other immediately at the same exact time and hardly knew why. One thing lead to another over about 18 years of insecurity, some warm Keystone Ice and “ The Blair Witch Project” and it was an instant life connection. 
In our first 24 hours of knowing each other we did not leave one another’s side. I, the quirky obnoxious newbie to the Walla Walla queer community and the stunning Tiffany (formally identified as Tanner) who was the seasoned vet. She was the only face and the queen of the young queers of Walla Walla for the better part of a decade. We had finally found the only other out teen queer within a 100 mile radius of each other and I had no idea what to do. Together for exactly 24 hours, and our path to our beautiful friendship began. She blazed a path for us here in Walla Walla that you are not emotionally capable of overcoming like she did. Unfortunately, If you give me the “Well, she did it to herself” excuse…then shame on you. I hope that being an ass hole thing works out for ya! 
I think the reason we started our relationship out by despising one another was because I liked Tanner more than I liked myself at the time, and admittedly vice versa. It pissed us off that we saw what was amazing about one another instantly, and could not express that about ourselves. We may have technically been “out of the closet” to the entire world, but we were still hiding in the corner of our well stocked closets in the fetal position. What it comes down to is, is that we both envied each others natural, silent and unique self confidence that we wish we could apply it to our own being. 
It has been quite a climb up the mountain of friendship for the both of us and I am thrilled our strengths brought the best and worst out in one another.  We have lied about each other to people. We told people we knew mutually things behind one another back  that could potentially destroy one another’s reputations in this town, only to make us feel better because we hated the way our individual lives were transpiring. We were on one other’s mind’s quite a bit since our first meeting but hardly made an effort to reconcile the past. This game went on for years. Little did we know at the time through all of this negative effort we had put into loathing one another we had met our match. The competition was over.  
After many tears and elongated conversations over copious amounts of wine and whisky, we had come to the conclusion that we were the best thing that has happened to one another in a long time. We made each other better people by challenging one another with our god given personalities. It is a beautiful way to get to know a person if you take the time to dissect it with one another. It is to this date, the best way I have ever gotten to know anybody.
If there is anyone in this world I can rely on to tell me what I NEED to know, it’s my girl Tiffany. Even when I do not inquire on her personal opinion about how my life is going, she does not hold back to tell me the truth about what she see’s going on in my life, and chances are high that her accusations were 100% accurate. I love that about her so much. I love that I never surprise T with any choice that I make in my life's path. I love that she supports every choice I make, as long as it is in my best interest at heart and if my decisions physically pain her to the bone. I love that we can get lost in conversation about our visions for drag shows we dreamed to perform together someday, as if nobody is in the room. I love that she has never given up on anything, and always says yes for her and no one else. I love that she fights for the love that she knows people deserve. I love that she genuinely gives a shit and doesn't hate that I gave her the flu this past Thanksgiving holiday. 
I am so blessed to have been given the opportunity to get to know and be friends with one of the most wonderful women God has put on this planet to challenge the world. Good job big guy, this formula must have been top shelf.

She has made me realize that I am worth it. She has helped me understand that just because it feels like I have lost everything I have built up for myself, that I am never am alone in this world. She has made me a better man.

A better gay man. 
I believe whole heartedly that Tiffany is going to change the world for the better. She already has changed a numerous amount of small town minds on what it means to BE a woman. My girl is on her way to making a professional name for herself and on HER terms. I truly could not be happier for her. Everything she has succeeded in she achieved all on her own. I have seen the way society has shaped my friend into a stronger person through hate and misunderstanding of how special she is in the way she copes with it.  If you choose to cast the first punch, beware that she will always come back swinging 4000 times harder than you swung at her. My bitch is a FIGHTER. She fights for her rights as a beautiful woman every single day that she wakes up and puts her work heels on her perfectly pedicured feet before they hit the ground stomping. Everyone in this town underestimates what she is capable of, but not me. I believe in my friend . I will fight for my best friends happiness and success come hell or high water. And that’s a promise. I love you Miss O'Hear. 

Immortality Capsule 1

Confessions of a Closet Queen: A Monologue

This is a monologue about the perspective of an American cliche.
by James M. V.

Is it me, or is everyone I am surrounded by absolutely terrified of me? Who exactly signed me up for this? What am a working so hard for? Why do I think I know what it means to work hard? Why is my honesty really difficult for some to swallow? Why is my honesty so hard for ME to swallow...? 

Why is making choices for myself impacting so many people on a constant basis? Why did I just sound like I am the center of humanity's universe? How do I stop giving a damn about how many people it is impacting? Why exactly do I care? Who exactly do I think I am? 
Why do I have to sound so consequential? I was certain I knew who I was. What am I doing? Where did my anger go? How the hell did I end up here? What time is it? 

No really...

What time IS it...?  

I am overwhelmed. I am 24 years old. I feel like I’m older. I am tired.

I am an artist. I am immature. I hardly know anything. I am addicted to anxiety. I think everyone is gay. I am gay. I am clueless. I work hard. I work my ass off. I work my ass off for the right reasons. I am never going to ask for credit, ever. I am never going to need credit from anyone else. I am obsessed with my self worth and what it's made of. I am ambitious. I am starving. I am persistent. I am serious. I am overbearing. I am genuine. I am fucking hilarious. I am famished. I am thankful. I am a prick. I am passionate to a fault. I am impulsive. I breathe equality. I objectify reasoning. I fucking love humanity. I am a fierce friend. I am a master manipulator. I am a hypocrite. I am melicious. I am someone who gets even on YOUR standards. I am pretty sure everyone thinks I always get what I want. I am always in question of my psyche. I am a person who know's my reality. I am so grateful. I am way too serious. I am unfocused after a bad comversation. I am aggressively passive. I am not passive aggressive. 

I say “I” a lot. 

I am way too fucking serious... 

There are many things you will think I am that I am not. I won’t say no to a great party, personal time with the family, and especially the opportunity to express myself to the free world how ever I choose. I have a hard time leaving the room without everyone I know being aware I care for them before I depart. I am a performer for you, not for myself. I am up there to change the world, not burn it down with a single spotlight. I know that you are asking me for it, because I am begging you to tell me to be on. I am always on when you are off, and never off when you are on. I can’t enter a room without being comfortable with how I look. I don't do it for them. I wear it for me. I believe that first impressions are the most important interpersonal communication in existence. I can’t remember the last time I felt comfortable about my exterior. I can't remember the last time a stranger was kind to me. I can’t remember the last time I walked into a room...

Why don't people THINK?
I can’t help to think I give people thoughts they never thunk they would think. 

All I do, is think. 

All I think about is myself. I think I know everything. All I think about is how I can do the right thing. All I think about is where to find the right thing. Where is my right thing? Is there even a thing? Why do I keep saying..."thing"? 

I can only consider how I am acting. All I can see is my control. I think I have control. I think I finally have....control. I'm in control of the only thing I am humanly capable of having authority over. 
I have never been in love they way I know I was born to love someone. I can’t remember the greatest day of my life. I am reminded about the worst day of my life everyday. I emphasize to not blame anyone as much as I can. I am sick of blaming myself over nothing I had control over. I am appalled at myself for blaming others who didn't either. I never know where I belong, because I don't want to belong. I think you're lying when you say you don't want to belong. I know I am not anymore. I think they are lying when they say they want everyone to belong. They want you to belong to them. 

I am masculine. I am feminine. I am scared to be both. I know I am offending people who don't know any better. I really believe they don't know any better. I never hate anyone that doesn't know any better. 

I don't know any better.  

I remember every time I have been called faggot. I hate myself for pretending that I don't despise the word "faggot".  I hate myself for being a tough faggot. I hate that I will truly never get over the word faggot just like every other faggot won't. I hate that I am called narcissistic because I am not a faggot.  

I loathe myself when I am taken advantage of, which supersedes the love I have for the people who did. I hate when I am told constantly I did it to myself. I hate that I sound like just another small town queer with issues I don't keep to myself out of obligation for a conservative society. 
I want to change the world, but I don't want to run it. I am convinced I am capable of loving everyone in the known universe. I don't care if people believe me or not. I beleive me. 

I wish I had the right voice to make a difference in the right way. I wish that wasn't a distant mentality. I wish people would listen to my voice. I want a person to find their own voice through mine. I want those announcements to be self proclaimed. I want to tell you what I have to say makes you feel just as ample to do so. I am terrified to tell you what I have to say. I wonder if anyone will take me seriously. 
I think I take myself way too seriously.. 

I think, I live, I breathe, I Drag.  

Friday, August 21, 2015

Notes. Ideas. Direction.

Blogger Note 1:

I really want to relate to a vast amount of perspectives in this current existence of mine. I am not too sure how possible that is, but it is really all I want to do with my life. It is not because I think I am smarter than anyone, or I am more important than another human being. I just think that if I share my ideas, my stories, and my fantasies with anyone who chose's to take me seriously, there is something I can give the world it has never been given. 

I only want to write down what my eyes see, so someone can convince me that I am not seeing the world correctly.That is not a challenge, it is a request. Truth be told, I hate how I look at the world. I am not really sure how I look at the world in it's entirety, and that scares the shit out of me. I don't understand myself. I do not understand why I think that what I have to say is something to be looked at as art. It is just my brain.

This is my brain. My brain tells me to love everyone. My brain tells me that everyone I know is aware I love them so much. My brain is one step ahead, and 14 steps away from everyone else. My brain takes time. It takes longer than everyone else's. My slow brain is a gift from my ancestors. It has a rhythm. It only functions on a one track cadence. My brain only can express itself in the moment. My brain is very good at pretending. My brain is not yours. 

Here I go...into the abyss of cyberland, and invading the one track minded socialmedialites of the given free world. Brace yourselves, here comes the motherload. 

Monday, August 10, 2015

Part 1 of Chapter 1 : A Holiday Note

Chapter 1
(Pt. 1)
A Holiday Note

At the end of last year, I was caught off guard by a casual message from a former teacher of mine. It wasn't from just any teacher though. It was from an educator I felt respected by for the first time living in my new, permanent, west coast address. The sender of my valued anecdote happened to be my favorite teacher throughout my entire high school experience. To me, she really seemed like the only person in my surroundings that really had my number, and never used it to her advantage. I am not too sure why I was so obvious to her, but I enjoyed having one adult in my corner from the start of my endeavors of the most unique high school experience you could imagine. 

It is a proven fact that good teachers, never stop teaching. In the quaint note, she had told me of a man she had met that grew up in Milton-Freewater, OR who had become successful in performance arts that had reminded her of me. He happened to be performing the following February at our local liberal arts university, and insisted on buying me a ticket to meet him and enjoy some delicious art on a glum winter evening. To my dismay, I had to decline because the stage also required my presence that night. Even though my soul was desperate to sit in an audience, the almighty Theater Gods refused to allow it.

Bummed is an understatement for how I felt about not being able to attend the recommended musical revue she generously placed in my lap. I still carry around a vast amount of curiosity of what I missed out on by missing that display of educated self expression. All I really wanted was to have a real conversation with a seasoned someone who could understand 90 percent of what came out of my mouth. It had been so long, and I was depraved of artistic ingenuity.

Even though my schedule didn't allow me to experience one mans display of talent, disappointment didn't hang around much longer for a gloating jeer at my delicate life. I was overcome with a sense of realism that had gotten lost in translation between my teenage and adult psyche's.

There it was! One of the most prominent segments of my life found its way to me during the peak of the single most depressing holiday season I have yet to encounter. At the time, there was not much I could hold on to other than the keen sting of community theater dramatics and a bi-curious aspiring model/actor with severe Jesus issues and a disgusting sense of realism.

I digress...

"Jimmy, I have been thinking a lot about your high school education experience lately, and I must say it really was surreal to see you walk those halls as you did. Your experience alone was like watching my own personal movie with a direct incite on you surviving high school as the only out gay student in school. It was unlike any other student I have ever taught to see how effortless you made it look to be you."

It took me a minute to respond because I could not tell if she was patronizing me or not. I had been so used to being treated as inferior, that when someone complimented me I typically ruled out real affirmations as the directed first intention. After 5 minutes of contemplating on the most appropriate response, all I could really say was a polite, "Thank you," and maintained my bewildered state of mind.

Was she serious? I had always known I had made an impact on the students and staffs daily lives like everyone else, but it was never anything I was proud of or thought mattered. How I saw it was, that I was the poster child of sexual confusion in my new community, and it alienated everyone I had encountered throughout the latter part of my public education experience, including my family.

Unfortunately, due to (as I like to call them) cultural differences, I wasn't entirely aware how much attention I was going to get from my peers by coming out of the closet at the ripe age of 15. All I really considered was my own happiness when it came to coming out. I thought I was in love and I wanted to share with the world how I felt. I was comfortable with the cutest guy in school being the center of my school boy concessions, and blindly opened my closet door in extreme insensitivity towards anyone else I knew. I thought everyone would see my true happiness, and leave me alone because it was genuine. That's what I try to do to people. Doesn't everybody do that?

Call me passionate, call me selfish, or call me insane, but the only conscious effort I really made was to be honest for the first time in my life. It didn't hurt me, so how could it possibly hurt anyone else? In retrospect, the only thing I really was sure of at the time was my sexuality, and that was it. There was something in the world telling me to express an adult perspective in a vicious teenage world that was drenched in red paint. I eventually ran out of reasons to not say anything anymore, and exploded. It was a new school, a new start, and the timing could not have been more perfect. By the end of my freshman year, I knew exactly how I was going to introduce myself to McLoughlin High School, again.