Shopping in Philly

Sensing a temporary lull in the crushing workload at the office, I booked myself a trip to Philadelphia. My favorite American city, Philadelphia is home to cheese steaks, much racial tension, and a Latino queen who smiled at me 13 years ago in a Philly nightclub, making me love the city and forever visit it, looking for him in vain, somewhat insanely. It is also home to BalletX, the dance troupe formed by Matthew Neenan, a choreographer I like, so I timed my trip to coincide with something they were doing.

Although I am not creatively stagnant currently (I have been reviewing books at a somewhat steady pace, and I've been doing a weekly songwriting workshop with my heroes Lori Carson and Beth Sorrentino - from my all-time favorite band, suddenly, Tammy! - and Lori's friend Matt Keating) my novel has gone neglected over these past few months. So I was hoping that a trip to Philly would rejuvenate me. Sometimes trips do that for me. Sometimes deaths in the family do, as well.

I realized as soon as I arrived in Philadelphia that my cat tee shirts would not be enough to shield me from the elements (it was really cold there), and I spent a few hours wandering about, looking for a long-sleeved shirt option. For some reason, I became very moved while shopping, which usually doesn't happen. As I passed a Macy's, in fact, I had to blink back tears. What made me so emotional? The solitude of traveling solo? The strange economic disparity that you aren't shielded from at all in Philadelphia, unlike how it is in NY? The upcoming holidays, and a sense of empathy for the down and out in America? God knows, I have been up and I have been down in my life. Right now, I'm okay, and I want to give this year. Give, give, give. I am going to buy, like, a thousand canned goods for the Harper can drive, I swear. And because I am the team captain for my floor, we will win because of it, and I will get the glory that I always seek, that I must have. I selected this shirt, a simple shell, really, from the Gap, along with another shirt from Urban Outfitters. God, remember when it was cool to shop at the Gap? I put one of the shirts on without washing it first, which is novel for me, and it kept me warm.

As I wandered around the stores and streets of Philadelphia, I was transported back in time to when I lived in San Francisco 15 years ago. I often spent whole days and nights wandering the streets (that's what my novel is about), in complete solitude, except when Nefretiti or Dagsy or Hilz or Joshie or Splendido were free for some fun. The near-total, awful, loneliness I felt during the year I lived there still makes me feel sorry for that young man who I was back then. But I became such a fan then, too. I discovered Barbara Manning, Paula Frazer, Jean Rhys, and many other huge influences on my craft while living in SF. I also discovered the simple joy of drinking bottles of whiskey when there's nothing else to do, which, too, became a huge influence.

In Philadelphia this week, I indeed was rejuvenated, and I wrote for a few hours in my novel. Now, instead of having 239 pages, I have 240 pages. Woo-hoo, I know. But really, it did give me the jumpstart I needed. I came back, rushed to Michelle's bday dinner, rushed to meet Suzanne for "Melancholia," and I've been rushing ever since, really. Philadelphia, I love you and your streets, your cheese steaks and your gayborhood, your "Fresh Air" and your peace. I will visit you again when I can, soonest.

Simon and Pedro (and Jennifer)

One of my most fancy-dressin' authors, Simon Van Booy, convinced me to venture into Brooklyn last night for the Tin House reading. I texted him that I was waiting outside, as I'm shy, but after 45 minutes, I gave up and went into the reading alone. Of course, he was sitting inside already, enjoying the reading. Simon!

I ran into New York Times notable author Jennifer Gilmore there, and her husband Pedro, who Simon seemed fascinated by. They chatted for a while, while I gossiped with Jennifer. Then Simon sweetly gave me a ride back into Manhattan in his Audi. Much like my mother did whenever I drove her anywhere, I gripped the handrest until my knuckles went white, and kept pressing with my foot on an invisible brake. We discussed love, and I was taken again by Simon's innocence on the topic. Sometimes, I give him tips on dating etiquette, but I am un-datable myself, so I secretly hope he doesn't take my advice.

I was going to get dressed up for the reading, to make some doomed effort to attract a gloomy, literary fellow, but you can't out-dress Simon, so I had a bizarre outfit on - grey, acid-wash jeans, a dark grey shirt, and a purple sweater from the Gap. The Gap! And there were no literary fellows there anyway - just one cute guy who seemed to work there, and was thus off-limits, and every other guy in their 50s and up.

In this photo Simon and Pedro both are working their well-honed, individual looks. Work it, Simon and Pedro!

In drag

I have a bit of a date tonight, I think, so I decided to dress in drag again. I'm wearing Gap and Uniqlo, my old standbys when I don't want to startle someone with my outfits, or provoke a fight. But my shoes are as current as next fall. I believe that several animals were slain to make them. (They knew the risks!) My adorable friend C. M. took this picture of me. I'm holding Caroline Weber's book Queen of Fashion, even! Of course, Weber's book is about Marie Antoinette, and her penchant for fashion missteps. My mother used to sit down after a long day at work, sigh and say, "Ah, to be queen for a day." I would never wish for that, myself. With my luck, if I were queen for a day, it would probably be the day of the revolution. :(

Philadelphia fun

I rented a car in Philadelphia, and decided to drive to the Philadelphia Outlet Malls, 35 miles outside of the “city.” It took two hours – crazy traffic. Where, I wondered, where all of these drivers trying to get to? King of Prussia? Ho-ho-kus? By the time I got to the outlet malls, I was crazy late, so I dashed into a Banana Republic and bought a dress shirt and a more casual shirt, and I dashed into a Puma store for some underwear. At the Puma store, the high school girl at the register showed me which underwear was men’s (they were all on the same rack) but whenever I saw a pair I liked, I looked at the tag and there was a woman on it. I didn’t want to inadvertently buy women’s underwear, though it wouldn’t be the first time that my tastes in clothing have led me to the women’s section by accident. So I bought a boring 3-pack of boxer briefs. Amazingly, I stayed under budget, for once. I then got back in the car and drove back to my hotel, then tried to drive to the dance performance at Temple University. The traffic was insane again, and I didn’t even get there in time. Jeremy was texting me, and eventually I gave up trying to reach Temple, and drove back to the hotel again, where Jeremy met me. One of the many things I learned that night was that Jeremy is a Republican. A gay Republican! I can hardly believe it. Of course, that made me want him more. Since part of romance is violence, I love being romantic with people whose views I don’t share, or who are distant, etc., so that I can get out my anger and frustrations on these stand-ins for whole groups of people, whole ways of life. We spoke a bit about economic theory, but neither of us was budging from our points of view. I did explain, though, that I’m a Democrat in name only – really, I’m a libertarian-slash-socialist, though that may seem like an oxymoron. I guess I want all individuals to be free to be like everyone else, though that doesn’t sound right. If I really wanted that, wouldn’t I shop at the Gap more? Anyway, the next day, I was caught in more traffic (and street closings) on my way to the Philadelphia Museum of Art to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit. I gave up again and drove to the train station. How ironic that I thought I would be able to symbolically snub Mrs. Clinton and Obama on this trip, when in reality, they hampered my ability to get around with their Secret Service-mandated street closings and such!!! A week later I tried on the casual shirt from Banana Republic, and I looked hideous in it. Ugh, it was so shiny and blue. But Jeremy contacted me that day and told me again how much fun he’d had, and I fell in love with Philadelphia and all its contents again. I’ll be there again on June 2nd, for Paul Taylor Dance (for reals this time, yo!) on Jeremy’s birthday weekend. I’m going to give him an unbelievably big present.