August 12, 2005

Quenchistas at GenderCrash!

Last night, Raine, Icarus and I (along with Friendly Local Boys R and D, who may henceforth have to be called Research and Development) trekked out to the fabulous, the amazing GenderCrash, which as many readers may already know is an all-types-of-queer-friendly open-mic night in Jamaica Plain. Raine, the boys, and I had never been, so we were super-excited; Icarus was super-excited because she had been, and knew what was coming.

Highlights of the evening (because if I make this a narrative post, it will be looooong):

  • running into my former medieval French professor on the T. Especially when she got off at the same stop as us and gave us directions to GenderCrash. The only thing cooler would have been if she'd come to GenderCrash with us. Note to self: she kept referring to "we" as in she and the person she lives with, but never in three years of knowing her has that person gotten a pronoun or a name. Hmm.
  • running into AB and E (other people we all knew) on the T, and proceeding to chat with them all night and terrify/embarass them in public with our loud giddiness.
  • the performances, of course. I expected a certain level of mind-blowing amazingness, but gut-wrenching, heart-fluttering, and soul-rocking were also very much the order of the evening. From the song with the refrain "If I were Peter Pan, what would that make you" (answer: a little weirded out about seriously lusting after Peter Pan) to the sexy-angry "long-distance booty-call poem" to the funny, brave, oh-my-Gods-how-talented first-timers (like the kick-ass limericist who will remain anonymous 'cause she's shy).
  • Evan R. Hempel, the featured performer, was talented like whoa. Again, not surprising that there'd be a talented featured performer, but ... well, as I told him when I dorkily made him sign my copy of his chapbook, the true sign of really good art as far as I'm concerned is its ability to elicit a physical response from me. And I was nodding and gasping and biting back sniffles and shivering and grabbing the seat of my chair all the way through his set. I wanted to quote part of my favorite poem of the night - his "security" - but it wasn't in the chapbook and I wasn't thinking enough to take notes. So I present you with a teeny bit of "tears and truths," which is in the book, and which he also read:
i built this temple
from the ruins of a girl
who had seen enough tears and truths


i used her tools to rebuild this temple
in constant need of repair,
and when you became a fixture
i screwed you in with what i had

(i loved you with what i was capable of)

you took my hand
and smoothed my hair
and saw the last of little girl
my tears
melt away into a fortress
of steel and stone that traps me
as much as the ruins did
and I can not say I built this cathedral myself

If you want to read more, you have to e-mail him to buy his book. *smile*
  • running into all sorts of other people we knew, from various places (Vagina Monologues in JP, Harvard, previous GenderCrashes, people our friends had been involved with, &c.). For me, this also involved saying hi to (and getting flirted with by!) people my girlfriend knew and I didn't. Don't mind that in the least...
  • general warm-communal-fuzzies. Yay. I love my Quenchistas.

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