Dear constant reader, even the coldest heart can thaw a little at Christmas time
It has been a frantic week in the retail sector with customers becoming ever more "grichier" as the last shopping days slowly evaporated in a blizzard of sales and two for one offers.
I had today off to catch up on my own Christmas shopping as I had been working some nights to eleven pm. But back on the front lines of consumerism on boxing day...yikes!
I may not be feeling an excess of jollity but I hope you all have a great Christmas and by next season you all have found (if not already) your own Johnny or Sylvie.
Of course that is Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. From the swinging Christmas video I would say the year is 1964 as that was the year Johnny entered the national service, he and Sylvie were married on April 12th 1965.
For my sins I am temporally (I hope) in a work environment that features near continuous Christmas music of the saccharine kind.
For the most part I can block it out but it does tend to leave me with a rather bah humbug take on the holiday season. Scrooge's line jumps readily to mind:
"every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart".
Occasionally a cool yule tune by the Beach Boys or Elvis slips past whatever guardian of mediocrity programs the muzak. Now if this version of the King's Santa Claus Is Back In Town (dig the line about Santa arriving in a big black Cadillac) by The Creepshow ever gets played I will gladly get up on the counter and do the watusi.
A day or two of mild weather, so I reverted to my fifties bad girl JD look, fitted leather jacket, leopard print T and not quite visible Betsey Johnson skull earrings and necklace. I think I looked good swinging my high heeled black boots out of the lowered Lincoln Mark IV. http://www.betseyjohnson.com
Yes it has occurred to me that I sometimes cling to the rockabilly look as a crutch, leather armor that makes me feel like a tough girl when really I am feeling terribly vulnerable.
Trying my best Les-Lee impression
Les-Lee was a Canadian who performed at the Le Carrousel and a contemporary of the Coccinelle, April Ashley and Bambi. I believe Miss lee was also famous for this difficult to pull off open mouthed pose. http://zagria.blogspot.ca/2013/04/les-lee-1929-2010-performer.html
First an apology to my American cousins who have yet to get Thanksgiving and Black Friday out of the way. Above the 49th parallel we celebrate turkey day a little earlier so the stores can begin their Christmas sales that much earlier.
Secondly an apology for my lack of blogging, work, looking for a career position, family, car repairs etc have taken most of my time leaving little for writing or friends.
Jeez, I could do a whole post on installing a new distributor in my Lincoln Mark IV....took Napa three attempts to get me the right one. I will save the whole sordid story for another post, I know you can't wait.
I have attempted to write this post a few times but gave up. Again sorry but this will be somewhat stream of consciousness, if I don't write it now I never will. In a nut shell, in approximately one week I will leave my home (I guess it will no longer be my home), separation/divorce will be finalized. I will be moving about thirty to forty minutes drive away. I wish I could be closer but I cannot afford it.
Circumstances mean that I will not be seeing my children everyday like I have been used to, getting them up in the morning, making them lunch, walking them to school, picking them them up from school, making dinner, telling them bedtime stories.
The oldest understands the dynamics of the situation but younger two will be hurt and confused. I am worried about myself as well. I am not the most happy go lucky person and the new reality of being apart from my children for extended periods of time will be hard to bear. Not to mention being alone and in unfamiliar surroundings during Christmas, which I always found to be a bittersweet holiday.
I wish I could cry those tears now and get them out of the way. I have tried to prepare myself for the emotional impact but how?
Yesterday after a particularly exhausting day at my part time job I hit the grocery store to make sure I had something for dinner this evening and to get a few more school lunch supplies. Christmas music was already playing, cutting through the usual saccharine pap was Darlene Love singing her 1963 hit, Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home) I almost lost it and started to sob as I pushed my cart around the store.
OK here are a few more Xmas tear jerkers and wrist slitters to get out of the way and I promise I won't re-post them.
Ravonettes:
Judy Garland:
Ravonettes again with Come On Santa, because these guys know black melancholy....enjoy
OK cats and kittens hope you all had a good cry and feel a little better now.
Love
April
PS. Yes that is the beautiful Jayne Mansfield trimming the tree.
For most of my life I believed I had been born at the wrong time. I love everything from the fifties, the cars, the music, heck even the chrome toasters.
My mom listened to the Beatles and Kinks but I preferred the sounds of the prior decade, rockabilly, the louder and more obscure the better. I pick and choose some of the cool stuff from the sixties and seventies but in my heart I want to turn the clock back to 1956.
Of course being transsexual in the fifties would have been even more of a nightmare. Only a few pioneers like Coccinelle, Bambi and April Ashley had the guts and blind ambition to make their true selves a living reality.
Not very easy being gay or lesbian either. Oh but we were out there….even in the Madison Avenue of the fifties, though the messages were coded to a “knowing audience”.
I had read that gays in the advertising industry (as it would have been mostly men in a creative role at agencies then) often snuck in phrases and imagery that would have only been picked up by “fellow travelers”.
While pursuing some vintage ads for one of my favorite Virgil Exner designed cars, the 1957-1962 Imperials. (he is also responsible for the Stutz Blackhawk) I think I discovered one of those ads. Check out the above print ad for a beautiful black Imperial Crown coupe.
Going beyond the ads tag line, which could be forgiven for being from an earlier decade the body of the text reads like the script for a gay porno movie….so I ask you am I wrong?
As Cass said when I sent her a copy, "do you think the groom had any idea she had transitioned?"
Who knew Chrysler Corporation was so progressive ;)
Here is some very modern but vintage sounding rockabilly:
A quick post to wish everyone a happy Halloween, of course for someone as zombie obsessed as myself, everyday is Halloween.
Spent last night gutting and carving pumpkins to my children's designs, the youngest wanted her first initial to light up the night.
I had to work today so only a little extra eye makeup, red lips and skull earrings and necklace. Another lady unprompted said I should be a model....Cass I knew it was you in disguise...boy do you squirm when I tried to pull the rubber mask off.
No time for the angel of death costume this year, though I might wear my black halo and wings to hand out candy.
trying to look scary
the Cramps, the best band to play on Halloween and every other day too
Well I guess that would be dating a guy and him never guessing I was not born a woman, as that is not the case perhaps the title of this post should be the penultimate in passing.
As I seek the restart my career (fruitlessly it sometimes seems) I busy myself as a freelance writer, which unfortunately is too unpredictable to pay the bills.
In this recession bound economy even part time jobs are hard to come by.I remind myself that I am lucky to pick up a position in what is one of Canada’s high-end department stores. I was flattered to be hired for the lingerie department though I spend most of my time in shoes.
I should not be worried about passing after SRS but having surgery is no guarantee one will immediately be accepted as a woman by the public at large. Nor do I think I would have been hired for this particular job had I not passed convincingly.
Beyond the pay, my time in this job is a fascinating personal education in female socialization through both my co-workers and customers. Of course I have worked with women in the past but never as one of them. I am pleased that no one is aware of my past nor has guessed I have not always been female in body if not spirit.
It is interesting to see how the most stern visagd customer will melt when receiving a sincere compliment about her outfit, make up etc.My favorite was an elegant older lady (store demographics skew to a more mature crowd) who after I complimented her amazing eye makeup told me I should be a model. I have since adopted her!
Mostly I take passing for granted, but at least once a day I am caught by surprise when I hear, “oh that young lady is helping me” ….oh yeah that is me :)
It is also remarkable to think that it was only three years ago that I left this same mall in tears convinced I would never transition or be able to pass.
getting ready for work
we can wear any colour so long as it is black....lucky it is my favorite colour
below...exhausted after a seven hour shift
All told its not quite as fun as "Are You Being Served " made it out to be:
Sorry for my on line absence, I have been stuck down by the virulent flu or perhaps zombie virus that is going around my part of North America.
I did look up the derivation of sick as a parrot but it is far too murky to get into here. I guess I picked it up when I was at school in the UK during the late seventies/early eighties. I believe it has something to do with sports and being disappointment in the results. I always felt it to be a good description of feeling under the weather myself.
I appear to be over the worst of it, (see above image) Imagine me in all my feverish nose running horror.
Normal sporadic posts on transitioning, cars, music and my so called life to resume soon.
Here is the greatest horror movie opening sequence ever:
The latest season of AMC’s hit series The Walking Dead debuted last Sunday night.
Not disappointed, lots of action and nail biting suspense….just wish I didn’t have to watch alone…but does add to the scare factor when its just you and the glowing cathode ray tube.
In the interview “after show” program The Talking Dead the director promised lots of horror to come….of both the personal character driven and zombie kind.
My favorite part of the episode (spoiler coming up) was when it started raining zombies. A group of survivors including the very good looking Norman Reedusan American actor who portrays Daryl Dixon on the show were on a supply run to a mall. Unbeknownst to them a portion of a crashed airliner was on the roof with a large number of reanimated passengers. As our heroes stock up on supplies the roof begins to give way, raining ravenous zombies down upon their heads.
I consider Dead Like Me the best modern television show ever….better than Mad Men, Walking Dead or Life on Mars (original British version).
The show ran only two seasons and tells the story of a group of recently and not so recently deceased individuals who in the afterlife (purgatory if you will) are given a new career path. Reborn as reapers they collect the souls of those about to die in accidents. It is an unpaid role, they still have to live, eat and hold down a “real” job.
They are mere cogs in a mysterious (divine?) bureaucracy that is only hinted at.
The show deals artfully with the meaning of life and death, family and god. I should add that it could be emotional; there is one episode that caused me to weep. It is not the clip I will share with you, I will leave you to find that one yourselves. Most of the episodes can be found on You Tube.
The clip I want to share is of a transsexual nature so be warned it might contain some triggers. To put it in context, in episode 4 season 2 a recently deceased MtoF’s last request is to go to church where they proceed to curse out god for his cruelty. It is not so clear on the small screen but god or an angel appears to carry Her home and god is female.
But you knew that right?
its also a good show if you have a thing for post it notes.
I had been relatively quiet on line, as I had been prepping for an important interview. It was great to be back in the city, for all its congestion and constant construction it just feels like the center of things.
I went in very well prepared and had even been working with an interview coach to ensure I was on top of my game. I brought along a portfolio of past marketing campaigns and some other published work. It was a difficult panel style interview though the director did most of the talking. A couple of put the interviewee on the spot type questions asking for critiques of current and proposed advertising campaigns.
An hour flew by but I didn’t get the warm fuzzies on leaving and was quite down on the train ride back to the suburbs. Passing was not an issue as the position was with an LGBT focused publishing company.
A full time career position would be the answer to my prayers, I felt like this was my opportunity. Letting go and focusing on the next set of challenges is what I need to do but it is difficult.
I apologize for my absence from the blog as I have been preparing for a big interview in Toronto next week. I have also been working on a portfolio of all my marketing campaigns.
I did take time out to finally get around to getting my hair done. I liked the length but hated the way it fell across my face and was looking all scraggly.
I never thought I could do bangs with my fine blondish hair but my stylist did a great job. Felt like a million bucks leaving the salon. I love bangs, ever since I saw my first photo of Bettie Page.
I took my inspiration from Sharin Foo of with the Danish band The Ravonettes. Gosh she is gorgeous.
In an attempt to get the automotive portion of my life into some kind of order I have the goal of making sure all my cars (well most) are licensed and road ready so that they may be driven, sold or used offensively against the coming zombie hordes.
On Sunday I left my basement bunker to check on my cars that have been stored off site and make a list of necessary repairs and maintenance.
Leaving my house in the Seville a black squirrel darted across the road stopping right in the middle. I braked and gave it a moment to decide that the other side was a safer place for he and his nuts.
Good news was my Corvette, taking up space in my mother’s garage (THANKS MOM!) started right up after putting the battery on charge, no seized brakes, no evidence of mice etc. yeah! Drove her around the block.
The 76 T-Bird was not so lucky, upon opening the hood, the new and expensive underhood sound deadening pad I installed last year had been eaten and torn up to make a squirrel nest….acorns being much in evidence. After cleaning out the engine bay she started up fine. I seem to have caught the evil creature early before it did more serious damage.
Last time I brake for squirrels….you have been warned you little tree rats…
Black and white outfit was what I wore today to a networking session.
I am a fan of the Coen Brothers’films, especially since O Brother Where Art Thou? After seeing Oh Brother in the cinema I went out the next day and bought the soundtrack.
The brothers have a hotly anticipated new film out soon called Inside Llewyn Davis, which deals with the early 1960s Greenwich Village folk scene.
I am NOT on the whole a fan of folk music….though when Elvis first hit public consciousnesshe was dubbed “the Folk Music Fireball” by one confused critic.
The song used in the trailer is called Dink’s Song (or Faretheewell). Covered by Dylan and other folkies the song dates back to a 1908 when it was collected by John Lomax, no doubt it is much older.
One of these days and it won't be long Call my name and I'll be gone Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well
I remember one night, a drizzling rain Round my heart I felt a pain Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well
I went looking for the version in the movie and instead found this 1962 version by Judi Resnick, proving once again that the best music is unknown, just waiting for us to discover.
Judi Resnick(not the astronaut who died in the Challenger tragedy) seems to have only released one album recorded in a Boston coffee house. Apparently she passed away in 1982.
Something in her voice seems to hint at Phil Spector's girl group sound, perhaps it was something in the air back in then. When I like a tune I play it over and over again, so needless to say this track has been on infinite repeat at the April Bunker.
Her version of Faretheewell seems to elegantly capture the sadness many of us have to endure in seeking to right nature’s wrongs.
I was particularly moved last week by Sophie’s tribute Lisa (A Woman Named Sophie blog) . Transition is a hard road and we must never give in to despair, we must strive to see the beauty not the sadness.
I wish, my attempt to mimic her dark sixties eye makeup was met with...."pretty but it makes you look really tired".
Inspired by my viewing of the French bio pic of Serge Gainsbourg, A Heroic Life. I was aware of his influence on French popular music and of course his love affairs, Juliette Greco, Brigitte Bardot and Jane Birkin.
I mean where to begin? From his obscene "Les Sucettes" pop hit for yéyé girl France Gall to his "Aux Armes et cætera", a reggae version of "La Marseillaise" that caused riots in Paris. He courted controversy, had the most beautiful women in the world and lived for his art. Oh and of course made a lot of money...."I'll get into hack work and buy myself a Rolls"
I will leave you dear constant reader to search out the above mentioned tunes, here are two of my favourites Gainsbourg numbers:
Friday was my birthday, 29 again! In an attempt to spit in the face of fate/karma/what have you, I journeyed into the sinful big city on the 13th to catch the monthly Rockabilly Shake Up at the 3030 on Dundas St. West.
A cool venue that featured a line of vintage pinball machines, (I have a 1975 Bally four player “Bukaroo” in my basement...well not my basement for long).
Two bands were playing, The Alistair Christl Trio and Christian D and the Hangovers. Both were great but I preferred the Hangovers Cramps like sound, it was their psychobilly style version of Tear It Up that finally got the normally shy me up on the dance floor.
Good DJ spinning some obscure rockin wax, including the impossibly infectious and nutty Snacky Poo Part-1 by The Del-Mars [Mercury #72244] 1962. See below to have your musical taste permanently warped.
You don’t turn up to a rockabilly show without spending some time on your look. Lots of guys and gals really dressed the part. For the guys, leather jacket JD style or dapper sport coat wearing Sun era Elvis. The girls were an eclectic mix from bad girl biker, forties factory worker, Bettie Page clones and one redhead who was the splitting image of Joan from Mad Men.
Me; leopard print mini dress, black leather jacket and four inch black pumps, yes I can cut a rug in them.
Today we met with the lawyer to basically finalize our separation agreement and pave the way for a divorce decree before the end of the year.
In happier times it was this view that we both looked out upon as we embarked on a honeymoon cruise to Bermuda. New York is also where I first set foot in the new world, only one year old.
But not about me today.
In Southern Ontario we are having a mini heat wave, warmer than even that perfect day back in 2001... when the world changed.
It was a global tragedy, an atrocity, my heart goes out to all my American friends.
I recently discovered an very cool album from 1980 by Marie France called 39 de fièvre (RCA). The record combines, rockabilly, sixties garage and the ye-ye girl sound. So right up my alley.
Despite her punk background she has become something of a traditional French chanteuse. In 2008 she returned to her roots teaming up with the Phantoms to record a rockabilly/garage album.
As my regular readers will remember I have a thing for late fifties, sixties French pop culture. Most of the tracks are available to listen to on You Tube ...enjoy.
And one more thing….she is or rather was transsexual.
Fast rewind the time machine to 1980 and I was a boarding school in the UK, beginning my obsession with rockabilly and Cadillacs. At the same time tormented daily by my own thoughts….what the hell was wrong with me, was I the only one, I must fight this curse at all costs, the shame, the guilt. Heck you all know what I am talking about.
Wonder if things might have been different if I found this record….what a role model! Better late than never!
My recovery seems to be going well and I am following my dilation routine to the letter as Dr. Brassard recommended. My times during the day are not consistent but I get in three required sessions.
On the home front things are less rosy.Divorce will soon be finalized and I will have to vacate our home for the last fifteen or so years. J and children to stay in family home. Employment is still an issue and my writing doesn’t generate a steady income. Wherever I end up I will be seeing a lot less of my children about which I am extremely upset.
My emotions have been on the raw side this last week and I have found myself sobbing at the most ridiculous things.
I had been watching an old British sitcom called Hi De Hi about a fictional Butlin's like holiday camp during the late fifties. The series focuses on the camp staff and ran for nine seasons. The other day I caught the very last episode on You Tube. In the final episode the staff learn the camp will not open next season and their little family is cast to the winds.
I think I cried for thirty minutes at the bittersweet conclusion, seeing parallels to my own situation, silly no?
Sometimes it overwhelms me and threatens drown what I hope is the good person inside of me.
I think I have managed to keep a positive attitude despite personal and employment issues. I can remember how far I have come and how lucky I am to have many supportive friends and family.
But sometimes the old me flames back into being, the old me… always angry/sad/miserable… I take each minor setback to heart and bile floods my soul.Dear constant reader that corrosive anger is like a drug, I used to draw my strength from it, the fuel of my ambition and a necessity to get me through the day.
I would hazard a guess many transsexuals have that same self hating anger as a crutch. The original concept of anger (wrath) as one of the seven deadly sins meant anger directed externally as well as internally.
Part of me welcomes its return with open arms, so familiar and so comforting. Yes it whispers, hate the world, no one loves you,you are freak.
Clearly I have written this post more than a few times over my journey, the telling helps exorcise the demons, thanks for listening everyone.
As the villager said in Monty Python's Holy Grail, she turned me into a newt but I am much better now…
Today I vacuumed and washed both my Cadillac Seville and Buick Electra. Always a work out but I managed it. I also installed a new dash in the Seville to replace the original that had cracked, hey it is almost thirty years old!
I saved a blue dash from an 82 Seville last summer and had dyed it red (using leather shoe dye) to match my interior. Kudos to Cadillac for making it an easy job to replace, only eight bolts and four Phillips head screws.
Took the Electra (love that name, just rolls of the tongue) for a spin around the block, OMG forgot how wonderfully smoooooth and powerful and large.
Fun Facts:
According to classical mythology Electra was the daughter of King Agamemnon and and Queen Clytemnestra who took revenge against her mother and stepfather Aegisthus for the murder of their father, Agamemnon.
The Phillips head screw was invented by Henry F. Phillips of Portland Oregon. The importance of the crosshead screw design lies in its self-centering property. One of the first customers, in 1937, was GM for its Cadillac assembly-lines.
At 233.3 inches (5,926 mm) long the 75 & 76 Electras are the biggest Buicks ever made.
GM designer Wayne Kady was responsible for both the 1976 Buick Electra and the 1981-1985 "bustle back" Cadillac Seville.
Today is the anniversary of my first month dilating or as we shall now call it GMS (girl maintenance schedule). Natasha I liked your acronym so much I shall now call it mine.
I get to go down from dilating four times a day to three, which means every minute of the day does to seem to be dominated by ones GMS. Downside is that I have to now use the next size larger….owwww.
#3 is a light green colour, perhaps I will call this one Kermit, because you know its not easy being green.
GMS time per session increases from twenty to thirty minutes. Five minutes for #1 (statutory grape), ten minutes for #2 (blue meenie) and fifteen minutes for Kermit. Sitz baths twice a day continue for another month.
I am feeling better and can get out and about more. I even attended a dinner party last Thursday, my inflatable donut was my date.
On Monday I drove for about forty minutes to visit my father and to check on my 59 Cadillac, which is currently in his garage complex. It was a good visit but I find I tend to over do it then pay for it the next day feeling super tired.
Tensions are high at home with “J” needless to say. Divorce looks to be finalized soon and then matter of house and me moving. You probable guessed I will be having some storage issues. But that is a story for another day.
Doing my best to remain positive and to focus on job search.
I don’t know if I would go as far as say I am back in the land of the living but I think I have finally left the walking dead stage behind.
The mind is willing but the body is weak sums up the way I am feeling this morning.
First of all a big thanks to super blogger Cass who kept the home fires burning on this blog with my garbled texts from the front lines. She has also been a true friend patiently listening to my tearful bitching.
What the hell can I say about the experience, except I am still processing it all. I knew theoretically that it would be painful but never having had any major surgery I was ill prepared for the level of pain I experienced. Emotionally it was challenging, transition is a gradual process but SRS is an immediate change.
I left the recovery center in Montreal on the 10th, my father once again was nice enough to pick me up and drive me back to Ontario. First stop was McDonalds; I was craving a Big Mac and a McFlurry, ohhhhhh greasy, chocolatey heaven.
For the last two weeks plus I have been staying at the home of my old friend “D”. I have known “D” since I was 14 and we share a love of old luxury cars. He was the prior owner of my 76 Electra Limited coupe. I will be returning the favor and playing Florence Nightingale later in the year when “D” goes in for surgery….no not SRS!
It was agreed between my ex “J” and I that I do not come home right away as she didn’t want me upsetting the children. Also I would feel obligated to help out around the house when I would be in no condition to do anything but look after myself.
After two weeks I am really looking forward to getting home to my own bed, seeing my girls and last but not least DRIVING!!!!!!! I don’t care if it is around the block but I need to see six feet of hood in front of me and seven liters plus of V8 under my right foot. Talk about withdrawal. Forget Demerol my drug of choice is Detroit.
“J” and I disagreed about my return, I wanted to come home now, her opinion was that I don’t ever. After much discussion by text and in person we seemed to have reached a compromise. I will be going home but the stay will not be permanent. I would have secured my own place before surgery but as a writer I am hopelessly underemployed. A real job is my priority, writing is only a stopgap, I have an MBA in marketing and have worked for multinationals such as Bridgestone Firestone and the Bank of Montreal.
The photos were taken by my friend Natasha after a mercy trip to Taco Bell we popped into my favorite salon to say hello to the girls….. what can I say fatigue overcame me.
