Monday, November 30, 2020

Thoughts in a Hot Autumn

As I start this entry, its late November, and its 50 degrees outside.  Very warm for this time of year.  It was a Hot summer too- the kind of hot that stirs tempers in some and lethargy in others.  Here in State College, there's been very little rain, and what we got was never substantial. Brown summer grass merges into brown fall leaves as the winter supposedly is coming.  

There was frost this morning though- a month late.  Guess its lethargic too.

This morning, Wisconsin verified Biden had the most votes, but in the age of 45 fascism, that doesn't mean he won.  45 will do anything and everything to keep in power.

It's been a hot autumn, and so very stressful.  Would the American experiment survive?  The world watched and held its breath as a nation with the world's largest nuclear arsenal decided between democracy and fascism.

And they're still wondering.  

Nov 30.  Go figure- I write all that and today we get rain.  Maybe I have weather powers and don't know it?




A lot of my fellow transgender women have been posting incredible pictures on social media of late.  They (rightfully) brag about how much weight they've lost, etc.  They all look gorgeous and I look like Jabba the Hutt in drag.  I've been trying to lose weight but keep gaining.  I had my thyroid checked and its normal. Maybe if I fasted for a month or two I could get my weight down to a human level.  The combination of seeing a guy in the mirror and all that extra weight disgusts me.  I'm not fishing for compliments (I don't believe them anyway,) just writing how I feel.  


Pic: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Hutt/Legends


Not helping my physical situation us the depression that sometimes immobilizes me.

I know- wahhhh.  "Stop complaining."

We're entering the holiday season.  I wonder how working for my current employer will be different than the bookstore or my other jobs during this time.  

Despite not working retail last year, I still have a healthy hate for the holiday season.  I think I always will.  After all, I missed the wonder in my daughter's eyes the last seven Christmases.  Now she's a teen.  And I won't see her this Christmas- I already know that.

Actions have consequences.  My being born different had the consequences that I don't get to have a "normal" life, and am punished by being denied the people I love most.  

Oh well, back to work.  So much homework.  Why am I here?


Wednesday, November 25, 2020

SG@A: the Rest of the Story

 Seems my last post triggered good memories.  I post the following with the kind permission of the authors.


Oh, helps if you read the original entry:  Space Goop at Acacia.

I'll lead off with two of the people making the music.

J.R. Mangan: (vocals/guitar: Space Goop): "Now that was a great day."

Mike Biddeson: (1/2 of brother part of Space Goop) Brian shared your blog. Really fun piece. We had such a blast that day but it is really cool to experience the event through your eyes as well as others who have commented. I tried to make a comment on the Facebook post/blog but didn't see a spot to do it. So a couple of fill in the blanks...

I played bass and guitar. JR and I switched. At first it was because it was determined by who learned the song and sang lead vocal on a song, but then it became a ridiculously dramatic beer infused monk chant when we switch guitars, usually inexplicably being accompanied with a flying lobster. Who knows why these things happen. 

The Acacia guys were such fun and that was a very generous event to gift the community with. Dave and I went onto rejoin our old band Ticapoo Brain which was joined by Beth Williams (before she lost her h). Then we started making music with Kevin Slick (who I think sat in with Goop on the Acacia event) in Neo Pseudo which was more of an all original band. We moved to Philly and played clubs til the mid 90s. Neo Pseudo has lots of stuff on you tube. I still play with my brother in another all original band called the llama Dalis. You can find us on iTunes. 

Anyway thanks for the awesome blast of memories. Great article and cool that your back in the valley.

PS I've been working on a book called "Zart, the art of everything" I'll keep you posted!

Mike Goop

http://i-zarts.com/

Goop accidentally formed I think in the summer of 85 back in Mansfield where I was doing grad school in art ed and JR and Dave just finished undergrad.  I think anyway. Very fluid time. Lots of moving and various band  configurations.

Brian Hulek (Acacia Social Chair at that time): "I set a goal as a freshman to ‘have the biggest party at Penn State’ and that was the moment perhaps!

The band was at the end  where Locust Lane passes the house and people were backed up all the way to the swimming pool at the frat next door. And our 2nd level deck was overflowing.

It was one of the best days ever for all involved. I had brothers who hated me crying and hugging me saying ‘It was the best day of their lives’. Every brother at Acacia got a supplementary bill at the end of the semester!😂

Oh yes. I had a VIP section up front with our own keg and pledge pouring.

[about the blog entry]:  Unbelievably well done Sophie! YOU are now forever linked to the event!


The Original Tape

Jeff Podeszwa: I’d like to add a few points.

I was a TKE pledge at the time and of course we were supposed to “work” that party. I think my station was, “make sure people aren’t drinking in the street” as the new law was being enforced. Hell Week was rapidly approaching and the abuse level was also ratcheted up a few notches. Upon arrival it was evident that all bets were off. The scene was akin to a grand music festival, not just a party but An Event. Like all great events, they don’t necessarily need to be planned, sponsored and promoted. An event to define the era. I’ve been to some big events Live Aid, Grateful Dead on New Years Eve, outdoor dance festivals at Mt. Fuji, but this one was special. I think the most I worked was getting beers for some brothers. It made no matter, as the music enveloped us we became equals, the physical plane lifted, only our souls danced. Floating spirits, spread out around the lawn, I don’t remember a single violent incident, or a face without a smile or a welcoming attitude.

“This is the reason I am here. I am here right now for this reason” was my brain’s explanation.

By rule, there were certain fraternity people we were not allowed to address without certain formalities, but that all flew out the window. Listening to the tape it is easy to see why, Can’t You See is a love letter to past relationships and hometowns, the reggae influenced Fire On the Mountain is a clever take on a difficult cover. The band was phenomenal, I’ll venture that the Walk on The Will Side>Can’t Always Get What You Want may have been the pinnacle of any live music I saw at PSU. And Goop did Good Lovin’>La Nacho> Good Lovin’ a full year before Garcia belted out La Bamba.

The angle of the sun, the feeling of youthful invincibility, that a future better than the present will always be waiting, yeah that optimism crystalized in two songs. But it happened.

Little did we know that this was not the Woodstock, rather it was the Altamont, the nadir of social life at PSU. The restrictions that followed turned Phi Psi 500 into a mere shell of itself and off-campus parties and fraternities would be hunted and vilified by the authorities in a manner yet unseen by the masses.

No matter, because for that beautiful day at Acacia, we shared that time, forever locked deep inside ourselves. And no one can ever take that away.

Thank you to Brian J Hulek for the tape and of course, J.R. Mangan and Space Goop for a real good time!

great blog Sophie Lynne!

My response to Jeff's bit: I'd say it WAS the Woodstock, as it may have been the peak of a generation.  Thanks to Bryce Jordan (PSU president at that time) putting in draconian party rules, things were never the same.  Now in my 50s, I sorta understand the why of it- litigation- but he handled it all wrong.  By the time I graduated, it was a lot less fun.  When I tell stories of back in the day to current undergrads, they can't believe it.  Kegs at a party??



Skull Toga 1988


Stephanie Rado Taormina: Jeff Podeszwa omg! What a great post above from you! I haven’t thought about that day in over 30 years but you nailed it and we were lucky to have experienced it.. part of what makes us who we all are today in some way.

Laura Pace Lilley:  Love this blog!!!  I covered music for the Collegian so I agree that music really made our time there special...and takes ya right back...



Thanks to those who allowed me to share their memories of that day.  And that's the thing- at Penn State in the mid-80s, this was in many ways just another Saturday.  It was Phi Psi weekend which made it a bit special, yes, but seeing an amazing band at a party was a regular thing for us back then.  


It really was a special time.  Maybe that's why I wrote a book about it.


Friday, November 13, 2020

Space Goop at Acacia

I've posted bits from my book, Men of the Skull, on this blog occasionally.  Even as thoroughly researched as that book is (VERY thoroughly), I couldn't put every niggling detail in there.  In fact, it needs a strong edit because I put in far too many.   The major reason is many of those details just wouldn't resonate with anyone except those who were there as well.  For example, I can write all I want about a Grateful Dead show, but unless you were there, there's no way to write about everything so that it would be understood.  It wasn't just the music- it was the "vibe", the feelings, the settings, the people... all of it made for the experience.  Let's face it- the Dead weren't the most physically demonstrative or exciting band to watch!  But that didn't matter.

In that same spirit, is Space Goop at Acacia.  Among many people who attended PSU in 1986/7, that phrase means something.  Like on that Star Trek TNG episode "Darmok and Jalad… at Tanagra" means something to the Tamarians who speak in metaphor.  It's a cultural reference.  Another example would be if I refer to swallows carrying coconuts- many get that right away, as I'm quoting a well known movie.  

Space Goop at Acacia, 1986  Courtesy: B. Hulek

In any case, Space Goop was a band at Penn State in spring 1986 (I don't know how how long they lasted, as I found a reference to them in a March 1985 Daily Collegian article), but I know that by fall 1986, they'd broken up.  Space Goop was JR Mangan (guitar), Mike (bass) and Dave (drums) Biddison.

Acacia was and still is a fraternity at Penn State and other campuses.  At PSU, they were a very short walk across a tree studded lawn away from my fraternity house.  They were considered a major house at the time, and I'm told had great parties (I have never to this day been inside that I remember.)


April 12, 1986: that was the date of the annual Phi Psi 500 that year.  Phi Psi is half a block away from Acacia, and they scheduled the band that day to ensure a huge crowd- which they got.  (I described the Phi Psi 500 in detail HERE.)  It was a beautiful sunny day, everyone was festive due to the Phi Psi, and Space Goop was on stage.

I didn't transfer to Penn State until that August, so how would I know all this?  Three reasons.  The first was that Collegian article.  The second was by reading accounts by people who were there (on facialbook.)  The third?  Well, that's the topic of this post.

Someone plugged into the soundboard, and recorded over a little over 90 minutes of the show (which lasted a good part of the day, as well as continuing inside that night.)  Back then, recording technology meant... TAPE!  For you kids out there, there were these things called "tape players" and they were the preferred method of listening to recorded music at the time.  Compact Discs were available, but really expensive (and non-recordable.)

By the time I arrived at Penn State that August, that recording spread all through the Greek community if not all of campus.  Everyone who was anyone had a copy.  I heard it at apartment parties and at least once in a dorm party.  At my fraternity, the guys would put stereo speakers in the front windows of the second floor, and that fall, the music was either Grateful Dead (usually Dead Set) or Space Goop at Acacia (SG@A).  I managed to tape a copy off of one of the brothers (I think his was a third or fourth generation copy) and I listened to it a lot during my college days.  Sometime after graduation I lost the tape.  Maybe I loaned it to someone- I don't know.  Point is that by 1991, it was gone.

Fast forward decades.  On Facialbook is a group for Penn State alumni... of a certain... vintage... (primarily 60s-early 90s) on which we share memories, swap stories, post pics, etc.  SG@A came up occasionally in stories and such, and at least one person (me) would ask if anyone could make a copy of it for me.

Last week, Brian Hulek messaged me.  He was the Acacia Social Chair at the time who put together that party, and, more importantly, he was the guy who made that recording.  He previously had no idea of what happened to the original tapes.  However, apparently... they were FOUND!  He digitized and uploaded them.  He then reached out to offer me a copy.  I asked how much and he replied "No $$$.  We share the joy!  I am insulted!"  (followed by a winky face emoji.)



Partiers on Acacia lawn that day.  Courtesy B. Hulek

In any case, he sent a copy, which I eventually figured out how to download into my iTunes.  Then, I listened.  

First off, the whole recording he sent was a good 30 minutes longer than the one I had.  The song that started my tape was "Can't You See?", which was over a third of the way through the set.  More importantly- it was a clean copy!  Second generation at worst!  The sound was like being there!

This was the set list:

1. Fire on the Mountain

2. Southern Cross > I'm a Believer

3. Walk on the Wild Side > You Can't Always Get What You Want

4. Dead Flowers

5. Can’t You See

6. Gilligan’s Island > Good Lovin’  

7. Not Fade Away > Who Do You Love?

8. Roadhouse Blues

9. Southern Man

10. Young Americans

(set break)

11. Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard > Day-O

12. Truckin’

13. Nature Calling (Space Goop Original)

14. Down on the Corner

15. Yellow Submarine

16. Roxanne


I was in Heaven!  I sent him the following: (edited for punctuation and clarity):


"Listening to it gave me an intense pang of (nostalgia?)  It brought me back to a time and place now so long past.  I was not at PSU when this party happened- I transferred up in Fall 86.  However, that semester everything was so new, exciting and different.  One of the biggest differences was my fraternity (I joined at Drexel.)  

One of the best memories was this music.  It seemed EVERYONE in the house had a copy, and it was blasted from the speakers placed in the front windows on beautiful days those first few weeks.  Of course, by then, Goop was gone, so I never saw them.  But the idea of Goop- a party band full of life, and a party on a lawn with students drinking, dancing, and loving their youth- always stayed with me.  

I was adjusting to a new reality in a wonderful new place and had so much ahead of me- so many incredible memories yet to be made.  Space Goop at Acacia will always be a time capsule to that time, and THIS is what you've returned to me: that music and all it means to me.  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."


He sent me the following back:

Little known fact- The agreement I made with the band was 1 long day set then 2 sets inside at night. After the long day set  was concluding, we were having way too much fun to stop. I wasn’t going to change the night schedule so I ran in the house and without authorization wrote the boys a check for another $500 to keep playing. After the night session we partied with the band til sunrise!

So, not only did I get the music, I got a bit of of the story with it!  He also sent some pictures, some of which appear in this blog entry.

As I mentioned, Space Goop broke up over the summer of 1986.  One member, J.R. Mangan, went on to form Stolyn Hours, which became one of the top bands in State College.  They released an album as well.  The other guys played as Ticapoo Brain before disappearing from the State College scene.  J.R. stayed in State College, and has owned the Cafe 210 West for some time now (still one of the best Long Island Iced Teas ever!)

It's been 34 years since that day.  Listening to the music, I wonder what people who weren't there (or never heard of the band) would think of it.  I think it held up well.  My roomie/bestie Linda thought it was quite good.  The songs are still classics (except for the one original, the reggae influenced "Nature Calling") and the renditions are quite inventive, including dropping the Hokey Pokey into Truckin'.  Some of the on-stage patter is... um... dated (a few of the comments wouldn't fly these days) but the rest is cheerful and fun.

I write about nostalgia and my past quite a bit on this blog.  Well, it's my blog and I'll write what I want to, write what I want to, wriiiite what I want to.  I guess I'm not just remembering bits of my life, but I'm still trying to make sense of it.  That first semester at PSU started as a disaster, as I had only one friend, missed my ex-girlfriend, was hated by most of my new fraternity brothers, and ended up working back at Burger King for money.  However, by October, things turned around and became absolute magic (mainly due to a pair of girls I met.)  I still see that as the best semester at PSU, as everything was still so new and fresh and full of firsts.  Also, it ended with the Nittany Lions winning the National Championship over the Miami Hurricanes.  

Writing this, I wonder what happened to the people there.  Who was the drunk girl shouting for a song to be dedicated to her sorority (Chi O)?  She's probably a mom or even a grandmother by now.  Did any couple who eventually married meet there that day?  Does anyone really have a clear memory of it?

Still, I wonder how things would've been different if I DIDN'T have my "dark secret" to hide- if I'd just been cisgender like everyone else.  Or, for that matter, if I'd been born completely female.  I'll never know those answers obviously.  

I'm back at Penn State now, decades later, living my Truth as a woman, albeit a woman of a certain age.  Like all people of my... vintage... I have my memories.  Many of my best (and a few of my worst) were here at Happy Valley, and I'm making new ones frequently, as well as occasionally updating the faces and names of those with whom I shared that magic heartbeat in the late 80s.  As I've written elsewhere, our Penn State is long gone, and lives only in our memories.  Thanks to Brian, and the music of a band long passed, some of those best memories again have their soundtrack.



Thanks to Brian Hulek for generously sharing the music, and his gracious permission to use his photos and words for this entry.

I've added a second entry about this day with stories from people who were there.  Find that HERE.

Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Exchange with a Professor

In an email exchange with a professor, they asked:

...a lot of other students also feel like their comments on the discussion board "aren't good enough".  I think sometimes this is imposter syndrome (which is soooooo common in PhD programs) AND that I worry that this feeling prevents students from really engaging and enabling us to learn from you!  

So how are you doing?  


I returned the following (link added for this entry):


"Is it imposter syndrome?  Maybe- but I see colleagues referencing all kinds of other authors and their TA experiences, as well as amazing turns of logic... and I ask stuff like "What do you think about that?"   Also, I worry that my experiences, knowledge, and POV are so out of touch (and, to them, repetitive) that they tune me out.  I seriously dread checking discussion boards in my classes (as well as my PSU email) because I fully expect to be called out as a fraud or an idiot and/or dismissed from the program.  


Also, I worry about a very stark fact: assuming I get my degree 5 years after I started it, I will be 59 years old.  Nobody wants to hire a new PhD of that age- period.  Especially with my baggage.  So, what will I do with this degree, aside from have "Dr." inscribed on an urn someday (probably with my dead name)?  People like me are being murdered in the streets, and I'm discussing case studies with people half my age.  I'm a relic from a different time- a museum piece collecting dust as the world falls apart.


So how am I?  Can't say I'm in the best place right now.  I go day by day- due date to due date.  I have a presentation tomorrow in PSY 571 (postponed from last week) and a paper due yesterday (but really this Friday) to write.  Sunday is my Wife's birthday (52) and Monday is my Daughter's (13) so I hope drive down to see them Friday (the only day I'm not working/in class this month) if only for a few minutes.  


The PhD work is hard- but it's supposed to be, and it keeps me busy.  That's a blessing.


Sorry to dump on you, but you asked."


So, in case you were wondering, that's my current status.



I took this yesterday



Sunday, October 11, 2020

Update oct 11

 Why do I feel hopeless?


The huge amount of unfinished homework? Including a 300+ page book due tomorrow night?

The fact that I work all day tomorrow?

The fact that I still don't think there will be an election? That the American experiment is over?

Crushing depression?

Time for this day to be over. I have to be at work at 0730. I'm exhausted.

Go ahead- bitch at me for whining, or looking for attention. I don't give a shit. I write how I feel.



Wednesday, September 23, 2020

From my Old Guy Blog: Blowface

I wrote this piece when I was 40, so 14 years ago (2006-ish).  The book I mention was Men of the Skull.

I'm re-posting it because it's a time capsule so to speak of who I was at that point.  Drinking was one of the most important part of my life.  It was part of my identity, and the cornerstone of my manhood was that I could out-drink almost anyone (German/Scots/Irish genes).

I'll insert comments here and there and they will be italicized

I did a light punctuation/grammar edit, but that aside it's exactly how I originally posted it (I also obscured an identity.)  Also, I'll close the entry by doing a "where is it now?" and such.

*********************************************************************


As I’m at a writer’s block on the book, I thought to tell you a different albeit similar tale.  It’s really long, so I divided it into three parts.

 Not really- it was only in two parts.  Nice editing (eyeroll.)

The origin of Blowface is shrouded in mystery.  Perhaps it was brought by alien life forms to the ancient Mali Empire.  Is that Blowface depicted on the inside walls of the tomb of Ramesses II?  Most scholars place it in the mid to late 1980s.  I heard of it in 1989.  It was this legendary drinking game with all kinds of strange antics and guaranteed drunken good times; the type that blackmail pictures and denials are made of.

Of course, I had to play it!

                The problem was that no one had one.  The only person who might have one didn’t drink anymore.  I was told that the game boards were disposable, as they often became beer or vomit covered.  Shit.

I still haven't seen any other version, but then again, I haven't looked.

                So, being young, dumb, and full of cum, in 1991  I took it upon myself to make a Blowface game.  I gathered two people, like-minded, to join me.  We’ll call one of them M and the other C.  M had played the original many times.  C was a US Ranger standing by for deployment to Desert Storm.

The Result was a game of Blowface done on a large white poster board.  Previous versions were linear- you rolled dice and followed the path to the bitter end.  I figured it’d last longer (more drinking) if it were a ring, like monopoly.  M remembered many of the original spaces which we included, and we added new ones from our disturbed minds.  We added cards that you did NOT want to draw.  Physical challenges, like dancing.  We had all original artwork, as all three of [us] had some talent with the pencil.  We added fragments from every drinking game we knew, or spaces that had similar effects.  To be safe, I had it laminated.

The cards were "Punisher" cards, most of which involved chugging multiple beers.

It sucked.  No one wanted to play it more than once.  No repeat playability.  I mean, if you land on the “Talk like Mr. Ed and drink 6” space, that’s all you do.  In any case, it was our baby, and we played it once in a while when C wasn’t overseas.  Eventually, we lost interest, I got married, etc.

Jump ahead to 1996.  C is getting married.  Two nights before, M flies in from *************.  And I have a surprise for them- I found the Blowface board- and the pieces and Batman mask that went with it (for the “Bat-Fuck” space.)  So the three of us played.  Below, you see the results.

M is “Bat-fucked.”  C is amused by this turn of events


Yeah, I was first to puke.  I lose!

We agreed that the game was a lot rougher to play at our advanced ages (I was turning 30 the next day) and C had a great idea.  On that same day, twenty years hence we would play the game again.  He was given custody of board and pieces (but not of the Batman mask.  That was fucking expensive.)  I have not seen Blowface since, nor do I expect to.  See, C moves around a lot, and so I’m sure Blowface disappeared into oblivion during one of those moves.

I still have no idea if it still exists.  

Part 2

 

Years passed.  History became legend.  Legend became myth.  Then, at a company Christmas party in 2002, I talked about the game to some co-workers.  GW was a drinking company then- lots of people from the UK, and we all loved to drink.  Several of them expressed enthusiasm for the game.  So, being stupid, I decided to make Blowface II- my own drinking game.  After all, I worked at a Game company!  I should be able to do this easily!

So I did.  First- what did I NOT like about the last one.  Well, several things. 

One: We made it on white poster board.  This meant that there was a lot of white space (duh).  In fact, it looked like a bunch of scribbles on a big poster board.  It was ugly as hell.  Two:  as three of us worked on it, there were three different styles of handwriting on it, some of which was small and illegible.  Especially when smeared, which it was. Three:  Some of the spaces forced chugs and chugs and chugs.  One space could wipe a person out.  (See picture above).  Four, there wasn’t enough goofy shit.  The reason for drinking games are to 1) prove yourself and 2) laugh a LOT.  Aren't games supposed to be FUN as well?

Ok.  Fix number one: instead of white poster board, I used black.  That would mean that all artwork would have to be attached, which led to Fix number two: create the spaces on the computer to be uniform size and font.  Everything neat and legible.  The art would be painted onto the board or pictures would be drawn (or color photocopied) and attached.  Fix number three:  Simple enough.  Eliminate the really ugly drinking spaces.  Well, most of them.  I kept the deepest pit of Hell.

I wrote out all my possible ideas, made some sketches, and thought of other things.  How to make it more interactive?  Add spaces that involve everyone- but make them special.  Also, I stole from an old GW game (Curse of the Mummy's Tomb) the idea of a piece that everyone moves:  the Chug Monster.

The Chug Monster was simple enough.  If it passes over your piece, you drink.  If it lands in your space, you chug.  If you rolled doubles, you moved the Chug monster. (Talisman Reaper expansion, as well as other games, also use the concept.)

I also added a short cut- the “Bridge of Death.”  (Monty Python reference.  Duh.) This is where the interactive spaces went, and it features the biggest single drinking space on the board- up to 18 drinks.  Still, complete the short cut and you cut off time.

The objective of the game remained the same: collect Golden Chair passes.  To go to the bathroom, you’d have to use a pass.  The new version made it easier with the short cut and two other possible spaces.  Like the old game, there is a section called Hell, but it’s not as bad (no “chug 1d6 beers”).  To balance it, the opposite corner is Heaven.  Mr. Ed stayed in the game, as did Captain Kirk, but those spaces were adapted to provide more variety.  Instead of everyone who lands on that space doing the same silly voice, a die roll would determine what voice the person would do.  (similar to TalismanThere are three of those spaces.  I also added spaces that I stole from another GW game- places to “explore” by rolling a die for various possible effects. (Talisman, again.)

I decorated the board with copies of pictures that I had of friends and other stuff.  In the end, the whole thing looked like this:

Colorful, isn’t it?  The shine you see in the pic is lamination.  I didn’t want it getting ruined.

The lamination and color photocopy cost me $50!!  I did the color photocopy so I'd have a backup copy, and to make it look "smoother."

Here’s a close up of Hell.

Heaven and hell were hand lettered.  Flames, arrows, and that thing in the corner (“Deepest Pit of Hell”) are all hand painted using acrylics. The devils were coworkers at the time, from Halloween parties.

Here’s Heaven:

Same thing: hand painted acrylics.  Photocopies of pictures.  The angel is the wife of a co-worker.  In any case, you can see what some of the spaces are like.

Here are the cards I made:

So- I had the board, I had cards, what next?  Playing pieces!  Working for a miniatures company, I figured that everyone who played would be co-workers and expect some miniatures as gaming pieces.  So I modified a few models to be holding Beer Mugs and painted them.  I then cobbled together a Chug Monster.  However, after a few games, people complained that the Chug Monster didn’t stand out- it just blended into the background.  It was a Chug Wuss.  So, in response to that I made a New & Improved Chug Monster.

Above (L-R): Pirate with Beer Mug, Chug Wuss, Chug Monster

Rear view, in case you like Chug Monster Ass

So then I tested it.  I called a gathering of souls to my house and we played a few times.  It was a LOT of fun, but still needed tweaking.  One person suggested I sell the idea.  Ok.  But what would Joe/Jane College think of the game? 

I tried to set up a group of Penn State students to test it, but after I arrived they all bailed out.  So, sitting alone in a bar with my game, I spied a group of four students eating and drinking.  A little bribe (free beer) later and they played.  They LOVED it!  (They suggested the same tweaks that the other group did.)  I still have their written suggestions for the game.

So the game floated around Maryland for a while.  I brought it to parties where it was played with much enthusiasm.  At one party, someone made a rule that everyone drinks double the amount prescribed.  That killed the game in a hurry.  Then, quietly, it was stored away as I moved back to Pa.  It’s been played once.

That therefore is the story of Blowface II: my drinking game.  I’m now 40 years old.  Would I still play it?  Is it something I should grow out of?  Well, HELL YEAH and maybe.  I’m sure that playing it would crush me for several days, as I don’t recover as gracefully as I used to even a few years ago.

I still have this game.  The board is in storage; the cards and minis are here in my apartment.   Would I play it now?  I really don't know.  I KNOW that I would be sick for days after.  Besides, at my age, who would play?  I could bring it over to the fraternity house, but I'm sure I'd get side-eye and laughed at. I keep it because it cost me so much to make, and because it's a relic of a time in my life long passed.  

The person who made that game was so different to who I am now.  I no longer have to "prove my manhood."  I also don't drink to deaden the howling Pain of my life.   My DUI has a lot to do with that as well.

Still, it LOOKS like fun...

Monday, September 14, 2020

7

 Dearest Lisa,

It's September again, and the now familiar sorrow intensifies.  As I write this, it's the day before my birthday.  I will be 54- two years older than you were.  I wonder if you would even recognize me now- so many changes.

I wonder what you would think of the times we live in now.  Knowing you, you'd probably have a mask to match every outfit.  Aside from that, I'm not sure.  I guess you'd be railing against the evil of the GOP (your former party) for destroying itself by aligning with a mad man.  You'd be out there on the protest line like a few of us.  I assume that after seven years you would've gone full time some years back.  Knowing you, you would've already had the surgeries you considered.  Or not.  Definitely a boob job. 


Dancing at Angela's Laptop Lounge, August 6, 2012.  


Seven Years.  Seven whole fucking years since that horrible day.  Seven years since you left Sandy alone- left your children without you.  Left the trans community behind.  Left all the unbearable Pain that you suffered and surrendered to the Darkness.  You left after promising me that you wouldn't. 

You left me wondering how I didn't see it coming, and how I was going to get through this Darkness without you.  Yes, I see you in my dreams when you visit, and I know you're watching out for Sandy.  Yet, you can't speak to us anymore.  We can't see your smile except in pictures that are becoming old. 

There are so many "new" girls who never got to hear you laugh, yet know of you from the stories that I and others who were blessed to know you tell.  I sent a message to someone who never got the chance to meet you.  I said "She [you] was a phenomenon.  She was so strong in so many ways, yet so fragile.  That was, in a way, her glory, and it was her end." 

The last message

In seven years, the world changed.  We now have a world-wide pandemic, which in this country was made worse by the lack of precautions and actions from leadership.  Tens of thousands died because the mad man lied.  Nearly 200,000 Americans dead.  Life completely changed. 

As for me, I still have the same dead eyes I've had since you died.  Thanks to inactivity due to quarantine and depression, I've gained thirty pounds.  I look like a globby parody of a person.  I'm still here at Penn State, doing my best to continue with my studies.  I rarely doll up or go out anymore.  Linda is too busy with work, and I'm far older than everyone in my school cohort.  Besides, not many places remain open.  And I just can't muster the desire.

Seven years, Lisa.  What you could've accomplished- for yourself, for Sandy, for the community... I guess we'll never know.  All I see is who and what you left behind.  I get it.  I know that Pain that is so incredibly intense that living each second is agony.  Each breath is a regret.  Yes, I understand, and you know I do. 

So all I can do is write letters you will never see, and speak to people you never knew in places you never saw- and have them wonder why I still hold that torch of your memory.

You know why.  I say it every year.  Every fucking year for seven years now, and I'll say it as long as I suffer on this Dark world. 

I love you; I miss you; and I always will.

Yours,

S

Sunday, September 6, 2020

Working on...

Disclosure:  An earlier draft of this piece was posted on TGForum a week ago.  


Some months ago, I was emailing back and forth with a new friend.  Nora Simone is a writer among many other things, and she wrote something that really made me think.  I reproduce it here with her kind permission. 

Sophie Lynne - At this point in my life, I am working on my obituary, not my resume. I want to be thought of, and remembered for having the right priorities, few regrets, and helping others. 



Wow.  

I thought about that.  For days.  Months.  

And I think I arrived at a revelation.  Yes, me.

Maybe my employment problems, and by that I mean my whole life. are because I've ALWAYS worked on my Obituary instead of my Resume.

Let's look at this, shall we, dear reader?  

As I've written many times, I've always felt a compulsion to help others.  I also have an massive death wish.  This doesn't look good on a resume.  

I've always wanted to help others, because I see their lives as having far more value than my own.  As I've written (too) many times, that's why I chose education as a path.  "I touch the future- I teach" Christa McAuliffe said.  

I've always figured that I'd be forgotten within days after death.  I still believe that.  But if I am remembered for anything, I would want to be remembered for trying to make the world a better place.  

I figured if I had a tombstone, it would read "She failed" because by definition, if the world isn't better (and right now it's FAR worse than when I came into it in 1966.) I think the best I could ask at this point is "She tried."  Then again, it won't be up to me, will it?  I won't be there to see it through.




At this point- nearly 54 years in- my resume sucks.  My masters degree was an impediment.  Working the same retail job for 14 years is fine... if one is a manager.  If not, there are questions about your competence (which I've had asked of me.)  

Still, in the end, what lasts longer- a resume or an obituary.  In many ways, an obit is the "last word" on a person, unless some historian starts digging around for dirt.  Kind of like an epitaph.

F. Scott Fitzgerald used a line from his book The Great Gatsby as his (and Zelda's as they're buried together) “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”  Al Capone has "My Jesus, Mercy."  And of course, Lester Moore has “Here lies Lester Moore. Four slugs from a 44, no Les, no more.”  Maybe an appropriate one (if I earned it) would be “Pertransit benefaciendo.”

Or, more accurately, "She hated life, and is happy it's finally over."  

In any case, I'm here studying for my PhD while the country disintegrates under a tyrant's rule.  Poor timing.  Maybe I should go where the trouble is and earn that epitaph.  

Be well.





Wednesday, August 26, 2020

The Point (Political)

I grew up in a tiny, dying, conservative town.  Most people there are 45 supporters.  

What I've noticed when engaging with 45 supporters, both online and in person, is that the Cruelty is the point.  They want REVENGE for what they see as "liberal dominance" and the erosion of white privilege, which they blame for (fill in the blank.).    What they love about 45 is that he is cruel.  

Toxic Masculinity writ large.

Last weekend, I went to a farmer's market neat Quakertown (SEPa), where there was an entire booth dedicated to 45 merchandise: "Red Zone."  On several flags, shirts, etc, read "Trump 2020: Finally a president with balls!", and on others "No more bullsh*t."  (A quick examination of five items showed that all were made in China...)
Ask a 45 supporter about that and you'll hear about "illegal immigrants" (brown people, not white), BLM (black people), and AntiFa (umm... so you SUPPORT fascism?).  45 will crack down on them all.  Ask about that, and I have, they'll get vague.  Kids in camps?  "Obama's fault."  Or "they shouldn't have come here."  But they're toddlers.  "Parents shouldn't have broken the law."  So they lose their kids forever (few are reunited) over a MISDEMEANOR?  (Doubt me?  I linked to the law there.)  
Some 45 supporters come out and say it- "kill them all."  They are a minority, yes, but that minority has 45's ear. (Steven Miller anyone?)  Then you see all the Black people being gunned down by armored police in the streets.

As a liberal transgender woman (intersectionality of three things 45 hates), me and mine are square in the sights of that hate.  


We live in Dark times, dear reader, but it's not like there isn't any precedent.  My country (USA) was founded upon Intolerance, Hate, and Genocide.


Intolerance: the puritans who settled in Massachusetts were SO right wing and intolerant that they were thrown out of every country in Europe.  They claim they came to the US for "religious freedom" (sound familiar?) which was just their code for their hate.  If not for the Wampanoag people, they would've died that first winter.  They thanked the Wampanoag by stealing their land and decimating their tribe.

Hate: Slavery.  The belief that white people are superior to black, so it's fine to enslave them.  I've heard so many white people blame the Africans for this, or Northerners, or (fill in the blank) for slavery that it's sickening.  Every confederate state mentioned white superiority and continuing slavery as the reason for leaving the union.  The South is the hotbed of 45's base.  Nuff said.

Genocide: The people indigenous to this country were massacred wholesale, either by disease, poverty, or by the US Army.   We'll never know how many died.  I've seen estimates reaching 114,000,000.

I've said many times that I don't expect to survive 45's reign.  He won't go quietly- and his cultists are fanatics willing to kill or die for him. 

These opinions are my own and do not represent any organization or whatever.





Wednesday, August 12, 2020

What now? (School edition)

Yesterday I learned that my best chance for a Graduate Assistant position slipped away.  I didn't get the job.  I got the usual platitudes "tough decision" etc.  This was for the "Center for Sexual and Gender Equality" here on campus.  I applied, and was interviewed. 

They already knew me, as I volunteered for the place last year- many hours speaking, mentoring.  I'm good enough for that, but not for a job.

Was it because I'm too old?  Not "passing" enough?  Too fat?


Yesterday- no makeup

Those are the reasons I usually get when rejected for a job. 

I can hear you now.  "Stop whining!"  "Get moving!"  "Be positive!' 

I've said many times in my life (and on this blog): if you hit someone in the head with a baseball bat enough times, they WILL go down.

I'm looking for alternate ways of survival.  Hell, I'm too old and fat even for prostitution.


Hope your life is better than mine.