A sign from god, gods or goddess or....(Cthulhu perhaps)

It is good to be back dear constant reader.

Make sure you check out my last few "back from the dead" posts

Redux:
http://myroadredux.blogspot.ca/2014/03/redux.html

on Candy Darling:
http://myroadredux.blogspot.ca/2014/03/beautiful-darling.html

As I have said before my personality is not a happy go lucky one and I have had to deal with bouts of depression throughout my life.

I have much to be thankful for and some things to be upset and angry about, the other night I was letting the later bring me down.

Driving home after a long day at work (yes I am grateful to be employed and passing...but still I am woefully underemployed with the pay packet to match) and away from my children who I spent the evening with, making dinner, ensuring homework done etc. 

As I cruised over the Skyway bridge that separates Burlington Bay from Lake Ontario, my mind returned to the though of what it would be like to drive the car off the bridge. No I am not suicidal but I recognize the thought as the onset of a depressive period I thought I had beaten into submission.


It was a beautiful night, no stars but clear beneath the clouds, the lights of the city and the flames of the steel mills in sharp relief. At that moment I was passed by a white 1978 Cadillac Coupe deVille (425 V8) moving at a highly illegal rate of speed closely pursued by a Jaguar XJ sedan.


The incongruous sight left me momentarily speechless, then I think I cheered. Was there a story there? Two vintage cars racing, underworld feud, caffeine withdrawal hallucination. Whatever it was, it was so damn cool it reignited my guttering spirit.

and what was playing on my stereo...the Repo Man soundtrack    

Frak Blogger

Sorry to say but Google and Blogger are conspiring to not update my post on T Central or for any followers.

T-Central has top women working on the problem but so far no joy in Mudville.

I am taking some time off working on resurrecting my C3 Corvette and making dinner (blueberry pancakes) to share my frakkin feelings...

Beautiful Darling

It seems as if all my friends, whether "normal" or transsexual are having a tough time of it lately. I blame the economy, geopolitical tensions or perhaps it is just the weather, a miserable arctic winter that refuses to release its death grip on Canada and much of the northern States.

Hope springs eternal and the weather forecast promises double digit temperatures by the weekend albeit accompanied by rain. As long as I don't have to shovel it, bring it on!

Being transsexual is no easy road, despite the advances our tribe have made over the last few years. It was much harder before.

Any regular reader of this blog will know of my interest in transsexual history, I hold the pioneers such as Coccinelle, Bambi and April Ashley in high regard (not to mention all those who were brave enough to make the same journey and to live successful lives out of the spotlight).

I recently had the opportunity to re-watch the 2010 documentary Beautiful Darling, the story of Candy Darling. A student of the outre I always had a basic knowledge of Andy Warhol's Factory and his female stars, Holly Woodlawn, Jackie Curtis and Candy.

The story is told by her friend and biggest fan Jeremiah Newton. There is nothing drag queen about Candy, clearly she was a transsexual. Excerpts from her diaries speak of her desire to start hormones and electrolysis. The photos from her youth in Forest Hills are even more telling, few could fail to see the girl staring back at them. Her school book sketches of fashions offer more proof.



By the mid-sixties she was already venturing into NYC, first as Holley Slattery (her family name) and then as her movie star self, Candy Darling. Risking arrest I might add violating the masquerade law.

I will leave it to you dear constant readers to explore the rest of her story from the Warhol films to  Tennessee Williams and her untimely death from lymphoma at age 29.

Candy was truly a beautiful woman but her desire for fame meant she was little more than an oddity to most people, as  a result both love and financial success eluded her.

Two things stuck with me from the documentary, first her incredible force of will to reinvent herself as a woman and as a movie star in a time when dreams of even simple transition were nearly impossible.

The second was a quote by Candy's contemporary and fellow Warhol alumnus, writer Fran Lebowitz. In her words “a 25 year old man who becomes a 25 year old woman is not a woman at all because a woman first has to be a little girl… Candy was never a girl, Candy was a fantasy she created for herself.”

Yes she created herself but it is obvious from her photos, movies, writings and sketches that Candy was female. If I can be bitchy for a moment, it is Ms Lebowitz who should take a long hard look in the mirror. 

“I will not cease to be myself for foolish people. For foolish people make harsh judgements on me. You must always be yourself, no matter what the price. It is the highest form of morality.”