but speaking of turkey, check out my fav pop punk band the Dollyrots with a bopping version of Little Eva's 1963 Let's Turkey Trot. The original on the Dimension label went to #20. It was even covered by Jan and Dean and used in the movie Easy Rider.
I don't know what it is but this song is so crazy its brilliant. Enjoy the ear worm....
Added My Road Redux bonus feature, Rita Pavone's French cover from 1965:
Relationships as a woman are complicated, I know it sounds stupid when I write it. I don't think I expected smooth sledding (how is that for a Canadianism). In fact I didn't expect to have any relationships at all.
Simply living as who I was supposed to be was enough for me. But secretly I hoped that I would be able to find someone to spend my new life with.
I have been lucky to have a choice of dates but it seems that all too often I am attracted to people who aren't attracted to me and vice versa. I connected with the Vette driving doctor who broke my heart at Halloween and a few brief texts cast be back into despair. I expected the black wave of depression to wash over me at Christmas, it came a little early.
I had a really tough Monday, long dark night of the soul and all that rot, took a sleeping pill to quiet my mind. Well I'm still here, like Rocky, ready to take more punches, too stupid to know when to quit.
It's not that I'm strong I just have some true friends.
a room with a view, photo above is me trying to do my best forties movie star look
Merry Christmas to all my trans brothers and sisters out there, the bravest of the brave, the ones that never give up and keep on reaching for the stars when we are sitting on our asses in the mud.
2015 is ours for the taking, or in lieu of perhaps just a small south American country
Love you all.
enjoy some zombie Christmas cheer from the Dollyrots:
ok ok ....I had great plans to post something everyday leading up to Christmas but working in retail means that this time of year is madness. Once I'm home (and still some dilating necessary) I am too beat to do more than crawl into bed.
Oh yeah I almost forgot.....I hate Christmas!
The over commercialisation, the pressure to create a perfect holiday, the perfect gifts the perfect meal, etc etc. The damned expense!!!! A December to Remember.....if I see one more luxury car commercial with a red bow I will go nuclear.
Heck, I love luxury cars but who gives $100,000 vehicles like they were sweaters. Mercedes and Lexus I'm looking at you.
Seriously, the season on the whole makes me depressed, I've never been a fan. The separation of my family and only getting to see my daughters for half of the day, being a guest in my former home is difficult and emotionally trying.
I know a lot of "normal" people feel the same way, the malls are filled with grumpy, surly and sometimes downright rude shoppers. The roads and mall parking lots alike are like a scene from Death Race 2000.
Today was the Christmas pageant at my ex's church (as Groucho said, I would not want to be a member of any club that would have me as a member). I got to attend and surprisingly didn't spontaneously combust upon crossing the threshold.
I think I do know why I have always hated the holidays. It is an emotional time. Before transition it was the pain of hiding who I was and now it is the loss of that prior normalcy. The nuclear family, the white picket fence, the perfect family Christmas.
But even my grinch like heart can feel what is still good about Christmas on the day, visiting as many family and friends as I can cram into 24 hours. That I look forward to.
Merry Christmas.....you filthy animals
the Plaza Hotel in Niagara Falls, Miss Monroe stayed in room 801when filming Niagara in 1953
I went on a date last Friday and it only ended a week later.
A whirl wind romance that gave me my first taste of real happiness.
A doctor
who drove a Corvette, liked some of same music, someone I had so much in common
with, we clicked from the minute we met.
The emotional and physical closeness was intoxicating. Like
a junkie on heroin I couldn’t get enough after my first fix.
Normally I am a glass half empty kinda gal who moves
carefully I followed their lead and flew too close to the sun. We tried to
spend every minute we could together, then on Halloween night it was over, I
still don’t fully understand the reasons, I guess it doesn’t matter why just
that it is over and it wasn’t my decision.
I cannot describe the hurt, I had only recently dug my way
painfully out of depression and now I find myself in an even lower level of
hell. The day before I remember being in my car and thinking that all the pain
of the last few months and years was worth it since I finally found true
happiness.
I was stupid happy like my BFF Cass says, they even accepted
my past history with empathy. I was bursting with joy, I drove too fast and
played the much too loud, not with my usual death wish but out of sheer
unadulterated happiness.
Instead it was snatched away the next day. I wish I had
never known what it feels like to be happy as now I will crave it like a drug.
I am going through terrible withdrawal pains. I have howled and cried and
cursed God at the unfairness of it all.
My friends say I am strong and that I am a fighter but I
have taken a serious blow and I don’t know if I can get up again.
One of my favorite sad songs....
the four pumpkins of the apocalypse, i carved for the children
We are having a summer after all, a spate of beautiful early
fall days that have been hot and sunny. Yesterday I had some errands to run and
it seemed too good a day not to take out the Corvette.
Like me she is somewhat “customized”. She has a SharkBite
coil over conversion so corners well but rides rough on city streets. On a
smooth highway it feels awesome.
Being of English extraction I am not given to emotional outburts
but heading home after visiting my friend Tasha, who took the photos BTW I pulled onto the QEW and
rocketed into the fast lane, T roofs off and the radio blasting rockabilly….I
couldn’t resist and let out yell of pure joy.
The adrenalin rush was intense, once home and the
small block cooling off in the driveway I was bouncing around the house like
Tigger on speed.
I totally understand why, one is now a woman in full and the
soul searching is over, stealth and normal life is what is important.
Well my life is still far from normal and I still have some
things to say, nor do I wish to say goodbye to all my friends on this site.
The last month has been one of the most stressful of my
life. I moved the last of my possessions from my old home (throwing away many
many car parts I collected over the years). Moving is always difficult but it
was closing a fifteen year chapter in my life that took the real emotional
toll.
Going through a life times memories stretching back to my
school days in England, to marriage and children made it seem more like
cleaning up after the death of a loved one. And in some ways I guess it was.
The last month also saw the end or rather transformation of
a relationship with a close friend. I was more devastated than I could have
previously imagined.
My relationship with my ex also hit an all time low, just
going back to my old home made me feel sick.
Music, cars, history anything I felt passionate about felt
grey and lifeless.
These events conspired to push me back into the darkest
depths of depression, it was all I could do to get up and go to work, blogging
was a bridge too far. Despite the cost I sought professional help from my
therapist and doctor.
A big shout out to Cassidy for listening, responding to my
texts and just being there for me.
I wish I could say that all that pain is behind me now and
that I am moving forward on the back of a rainbow coloured flying unicorn that
poops skittles. It feels more like climbing Mt. Everest but at least I am
moving up!
I have more to say about dating and relationships but that
will be for later in the week.
Hugs,
April
Big Hunk of Love...always one of my favourite Elvis songs, here is an incendiary cover by the Jim Jones Revue
Wow a second post within only two days… let me check if hell
has frozen over.
My previously discussed problems has driven me back kicking and
screaming to therapy. Despite the cost it is well worth it, I am
broken and need to be fixed. I want to use some a car analogy here.
If I am the car, to continue to drive without repair would only damage
the vehicle to the point of complete mechanical failure.
My therapist recommended that journal my thoughts about the
session….well this blog is my journal. The idea of writing something
for private consumption seems pointless. So thanks for reading, dear
constant readers.
Lets me see what I can remember,
First of all I am still grieving the loss of not just the recent still
born relationship but also my prior relationship with my ex and for my
old life, however flawed it was. Grieving is the right word I am
heartbroken, sad and angry all at the same time. Still working to
reach the acceptance stage.
The real takeaway from the session was that I couldn’t love anyone
fully until I could love myself. In my marriage I could not give
myself fully as I could not love as a woman and kept the best part of
me buried.
Even with transition I could not give myself over to love as I hated
myself. I despised my weaknesses and could not forgive my perceived
career failures. I was consumed by feelings of shame and guilt over
being transsexual.
I believed that the loss of this relationship meant that no one would
ever love me.
I believed I was not worthy of anyone loving me.
I feared I was expendable and I would loose the little security
I had regained in my life.
I was scared and powerless.
No wonder that the recent emotional turmoil combined with other
stresses in my life drove me to the brink of madness and suicide. I’m
not frakkin’ exaggerating with you people….it was touch and go.
I understand intellectually that I deserve love and that I am a good
person but feeling that in my heart is a struggle and will take some
work to achieve. As my BFF Cass said, a lifetime of self-loathing
takes time to overcome.
This is a first step.
Nothing profound in my musical choice just the Beach Boys pounding out Dance Dance Dance .....they look like they are really having fun....joyous
Dispatches from the dating front....men are pigs and only want one
thing! Wow April news flash! OK I am being unfair I have met maybe one or two true gentlemen.
Greetings from the office over the stairs....really my office used to be a closet....insert joke here...
I am still battling periods of depression as super blogger Cass will attest, as she, poor girl, is usually on the receiving end of my sad ass text messages.
I had my middle daughter over the other day , we had pizza and watched Toy Story 3, now that is a tough film not to cry over.
It has been an up and down existence emotionally the last month as sad April battles positive April for supremacy. It sucks being depressed, everything I love loses its luster, from cars to music, even food tastes like sawdust. Good news is I dropped below my target weight LOL.
I won't sugar coat this for anyone reading this blog near the beginning of their journey. Transition is worth the blood and tears but you better be strong.
I am posting this as I am on a upswing (I could be back in the depths of hell by this evening). I have come dangerously close to giving into despair but hope is a terrible and powerful thing that keeps me moving forward in this uncertain and scary world.
The Ravonettes have a great new-ish "surf" inspired album but I am trying to listen to only positive upbeat tunes. So I will save that review for later.
My favorite pop punk band the Dollyrots have an amazing acoustic album out called Love Songs, Werewolves and Zombies. You cant help but to play it loud and dance around the room. The song Smile Smile Smile seemed to speak to the trans condition....
I had not dated since the divorce as I was scared and I didn't want to upset my friend from the last post.
I joined a dating site and have been inundated with responses.....yeah I'm bragging.....but its more to do with my profile drafting skills. I have a degree in marketing and I am a writer, I know how to sell the sizzle...
Yes I always wanted to work on Madison Avenue.
It is hard to find the time to do the typical coffee date but I have managed to squeeze a few into a busy schedule.
Some good none bad, there were two where we had nothing in common whatsoever, those were more humerous than anything else. Others involved great conversations that neither of us wanted to end.
But I can tell you have questions, dear constant reader. Let me second guess you.
Passing?
As no one has called me on it I am passing with all comers both in person and on the phone.
Telling?
Do I tell. NO not at this point. I am a woman and I don't owe anyone my life history until I am damn good and ready and things are moving towards a relationship.
So early days yet and I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I am sure it won't be easy.
Here is the stunning Sylvie Vartan on Hullabaloo from 1965, the guy is cute too:
On top of this, literally the same day, I find out in a text
from my ex that she is now dating an old “friend” of mine. She has every right
to move on with her life but it is the old “friend” part of the equation that
stings.
Once again I had to go to work and put on my happy face for
co-workers and customers that was hard too.
So I am here writing this post when I should be sleeping but
sleep wont come nor do I expect it to.
My toe isn't throbbing constantly and I can get around in a limping sort of way so long as I keep my weight off the big toe and balance on my heel.
A co-worker remarked that they had missed me and I almost cried.
The first two days I was functioning normally but on the third the disruption of my sleep patterns really started to take a toll.
The lack of sleep manifested itself in anger. Wrath seems to be one of my personal seven deadly sins right behind envy.
I do have flashes of self awareness and I realize that the root of feelings comes not only from sleep deprivation but the stress I have been under. An element of which has been the promise of a career position. (oh to return to the rat race and once again to be real person in the eyes of others). I am on the short list but the waiting is killing me and everyday that goes by I despair of ever getting a "real" job.
As you dear constant reader may remember I broke my big toe by dropping Corvette t roofs on my foot.
So my right foot along with the rest of my apparently healthy body is restricted to the couch. After I binged watched the latest season of Orange is the New Black I started to loose my mind....its only been three days!
the horror...the horror
I guess I have been so busy the last few months enforced rest was not at all welcome. Never mind that if I can't work I don't get paid. I can't even work on my Stutz restoration project.
Today I am with my daughters making grilled cheese sandwiches and driving them to the library, being very careful of right foot and braking with the left.
I have been a little naughty and brought the Stutz's seized windshield wiper motor along. Sitting down I managed to disassemble it and clean out all the rust. Seems that Stutz designed the space where the wiper motor sits beneath the cowl without a drain. The motor had clearly been submersed in water at some time in the past and stopped working.
The wiper motor is Italian made by Magneti Marelli. (the car was coachbuilt by Padane in Modena on a Pontiac chassis and uses a variety of Maserati and Ferrari components. I believe a modern replacement is still available but somewhat expensive in North America so I am hoping a little elbow grease and ingenuity will get the original working.
What I was upset about was that the chrome windshield wiper trim pieces were missing. In fact I hadn't seen them since the car was disassembled back in 2006. I had an idea that Stutz used Alfa Romeo parts judging by the wiper motor assembly but they could also be unique to the car. As only twenty six 1971 Stutzs were built replacement trim items are nonexistent.
Poking my nose into a few boxes I had searched fruitlessly before I came across a clear plastic bag with all the missing trim pieces!!!!
Ah the bitch goddess of vintage cars can be merciful....too bad about the toe.
Since we have been talking windshield wipers here is a really wet song Dion and the Belmonts...
all dressed for work, any color you want so long as its black
Canada Day (July 1st) was the first anniversary of my surgery. Despite predictions of rain Southern Ontario enjoyed a hot summer day.
It was made even better as I was able to pick up my daughters that morning and bring them back to my "home" where we had a early birthday celebration for my oldest.
My good friend Julie decorated the house with red and white bunting and did the cooking. Reese's peanut butter chocolate cake!
We all went on a hike along the Bruce trail to a hidden waterfall where we waded barefoot up a stream cooling our tired feet.
Later we raced slot cars, watched a movie and had a water balloon fight. A wonderful and memorable day and yes I cried when they went home.
It is a weird time right now as I wait to hear about a career position in the city, things look positive but I have been disappointed too many times before.
My part time retail job keeps me hopping....well literally now as the other day I managed to drop a box containing two glass and steel Corvette T-roofs on my right foot. OMG the pain, the end of the box came open and the t roofs slid out (they are very very heavy). The next day I went to the hospital and an x-ray reveled that I had broken my big toe. It is hideous purple and swollen as I sit here type this post, and throbs like a.... well you get the idea.
Lucky the roofs didn't guillotine all my toes off. No cast or boot, just rest and comfy shoes. I am back at work on Saturday and I am not sure what to tell them. I have a note from the doctor requesting desk work but I really have no choice but to be on my feet. I am concerned I will be dismissed.
The above photo is pre accident. At work we have to wear black, good thing it is my favourite color (notice I spelled color sans the U in tribute to our American cousins....it is the glorious fourth after all). Dresses and bare legs are the exception as the AC in the store is so cold nylons and long sleeves are a better choice.
My Seville and Lincoln Mark IV in downtown Hamilton.
Both sides of the 49th parallel are experiencing some tough times right now, it is hard to keep hope alive but sometimes it is all we have. My faith has been tested but America is still the shining city upon a hill, thanks for giving me all the things I love...
Against Me played in Toronto this week as part of World Pride and I was lucky to be there.
You all no doubt have heard of Laura Jane Grace's transition and the band's new album.
She and the band put on a great show, though I prefer my punk more in the Ramones style.
The album Transgender Dysphoria Blues has some very powerful lyrics though I think a song from her earlier career called Pretty Girls is more poignant in retospect.
It is hard enough to transition in our own little spotlight. To do so in the glare of the 21st century media boggles the mind.
That one of us can tell our story is something I am thankful for.
This year Toronto hosts World Pride, I had never been to any aspect of the pride celebration before. When I worked downtown in a previous life I would come into to work Monday morning the streets still strewn with multi-coloured confetti.
I don't really consider myself a member of the LGBTQ world but that is no excuse to join in the party.
I had a good job interview in the city the other day and was still high on the possibility of a new job in the marketing field. It was time for a little celebrating.....it is also almost a year since my surgery.
I met up with friends on Church Street for coffee then over to an alternative club called the Bovine Sex Club (calm down Cassidy)....as you can see from the photo it was really alternative....loved the white Maleficent in attendance.
The club had an open air patio on the roof where my friends and I met some amazing cis and trans girls from across the province and even from the States.
I was a little worried about my rather short dress alerting people that I was not always female. Then again it is pretty hard to pass amongst gay guys and other trans men and women in attendance.
On leaving the club we stumbled across this cool 1963 Cadillac convertible.....wish I could add it to my fleet.
Here are the Dollyrots with a mash up of the Doo Run Run and I Wanna Be Sedated
Picture is from my friend Genni's pub which now seems to feature a TARDIS....
as Inspector Space Time would say, it is not a question of where this photo was taken but when...(totally geeky Community reference sorry).
So what else have I been doing besides messing up the space/time continuum. Working, looking for a better job, restoring my Stutz Blackhawk (subject of a future post). On Sunday I traveled to my father's to pick up my Lincoln Mark IV that had been in storage since December. I had sprayed all the chrome with a light rust proofing oil to prevent corrosion. Although the car was under a cover the oil had attracted and killed a few million midges (tiny flies that are found by Lake Ontario). The chrome wheels were black with them!
After tanking up with some dino juice the next stop was a high pressure car wash.....no flies on me...
Today I had her in for an alignment and much needed replacement of the pitman arm, which was causing the steering to be very vague. Rather worrying when piloting a five thousand pound car around a highway on ramp at speed.
I had another more serious post planned but after pulling an all niter drafting a marketing analysis for a company I hope to land a job with I am pretty much all out of words and any semblance of coherence.
When I was in banking I used to spit out industry and marketing analysis documents like a vending machine. This particular assignment was especially challenging as it was for a market that didn't yet exist and required much original research. Big thanks to Cass over at Cassidy's Quest for the early morning edit!
A little side note I am not getting paid for this work (I do write professionally also) and that chafes a little but in today's buyers market employers have the upper hand. I guess I am saying I am happy for the opportunity but resent the amount of time I had to put into this project.
I am not working at my other job today so I may drag myself to the garage and spend some quality time on my Stutz Blackhawk restoration project.
I do love early sixties French pop, here is France Gall's first big hit, I read she was rather embarrassed by the success of this 'silly" song but you cant help but smile when listening:
And here she is again from 1968
Speaking of the late sixties did you catch the most recent episode of Mad Men ("Waterloo" season 7/episode 7), no spoiler alerts just amazing writing and acting against the backdrop of the first moon landing.
Here is a picture of Don behind the wheel of a 64 Imperial to push all the right buttons (double entendre as Chrysler products had push transmissions)
Sorry I have been quiet since my Archer post. Work, children, cars, driving back and forth between Burlington and Hamilton nearly everyday.
To tell the truth I have been feeling very exhausted (even beyond the supernatural powers of the blessed coffee bean), some friends even pointed it out, so made an appointment with my doctor. Better safe than sorry.
I am not too concerned more likely the effects of insomnia and a busy life.
Not working today, so looking and feeling like a extra from a George Romero movie I have stumbled to my Victorian era coal fired PC to write you all a short missive.
For a number of years now I have been a fan of the Gallic genius Rev. Tom Frost. Coming to you from, in his words, the South of Hell France, he has thanks to the interwebs been spreading the gospel of weird western, horror movie themed rockabilly, through imaginative sound effect laden pod casts and his own brand of singing and playing.
Don't be afraid to click the links, come join us....there is always room for one more....
Having an obsession with obscure pop from the fifties through the late seventies means I find the modern day sorely lacking in the design and entertainment realm not to mention politics and the high price of fossil fuels.
I know I am a little late to the party but I wanted to sing the praises of adult spy cartoon Archer. The series now in its fifth season concerns the eponymous named secret agent who works for a a quasi government agency called ISIS.
His mothers is the head of the agency, Lana Kane (get it) fellow agent and ex girl friend, Dr Krieger head of the applied research department and possible clone of Hitler (go read Boys from Brazil). Cheryl, the crazy secretary and sometimes country singing star, OMG I could go on and on.
Just go watch it and try not to pee yourself laughing. I should warn you it is rather rude but well that is part of its charm.
I really dig the retro vibe of the show which is set in some sort of alternate reality where vintage and modern 20th century technology exist. The computers are early eighties, the cars are from the fifties through the seventies, the cold war and Soviet Union are still a going concern but we also have cell phones, GPS and many contemporary references.
A universe I would certainly feel right at home in, wonder if ISIS is hiring?
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
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.”
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. 
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.
