Digital Demolition

Maybe an FAQ* of my life would be better here…

I’ve been hiding online for years. Lurking but rarely talking. Hiding behind pseudonyms. Keeping things locked down. It feels like it’s time to stop hiding. I can ramble with the best of them and now I’m coming forth to do it. Publicly. Despite whatever familial issues it causes. Theme? Pshaw! Common purpose? Naw. I’m just going to start talking and see what happens. Since you’re here, why don’t you head over and read the House Rules.

Since I turned 17, I’ve been a bit left of center. I moved to San Francisco when I was 23 and it’s only gotten worse better. One of the up/downsides to living in SF is that no matter how outrageous you might be, there’s someone around the corner doing something even crazier. When I moved here, it was the King Mouse (a guy in a mouse costume, complete with crown and scepter) and the Twins. Since I’ve lived here, I’ve personally witnessed so many oddities, it boggles my mind. The guy “walking” a head of cabbage (dragging it down the street by a leash and harness); the guy in a pink unitard on a unicycle, flapping his arms as he rode by; the tranny who always wore a neck brace; and ye gods, the displays of personal freedom during any festival/parade/fair/flash mob/dinner party/weekend can be summed up as “uniquely San Francisco.” You become so accustomed to it that any changes you make to your own appearance or actions just blend and you tend to forget that between SF and New York are several thousand miles of Hee Haw without the cameras. Here are the most common questions I’ve been asked over the years.

What’s with the hair? Is it seasonal? Do you change it to match every outfit?

My hair is red. Really fucking red. I-have-to-bleach-it-to-get-here red. Some of these versions of my hair have been quite unfortunate. Like in 2001 when New York blew up, I decided that I should see my head shaved once before the world ended, so I shaved all but a fringe around the front. Ick. (oh, and look – there’s a birthmark!) As of 2009, I have ridiculous red and black dreads (half mine, half extensions). Here’s a visual synopses of the past two decades of my hair.

Yes, I have changed the color. I’ve been blue, green, purple, blonde, and black. For my first office job, I wore a brown wig and under that wig, my hair was many colors. No, it’s not seasonal – getting these bright colors is a major pain in the ass and you can’t simply “go back to your natural color” or change it to match your shoes. The red seems to make me the most happy and having silly hair provides two valuable advantages: 1) I can never work in a stodgy office again. They’d never hire me. 2) It cracks me up. I think you should hang onto the things that make you laugh.

How about the jewelry?

I started piercing myself (a bad idea, you should go to the pros for many reasons) in college. Every time I was in a bad mood, I’d add an earring. Then I decided that because I wore no makeup, I should pierce my nose. So I did. Twice. (Boy, that’ll make your eyes water.) After I moved to SF, I went crazy with the piercings and stretching the lower holes just big enough to make people do the double-take. When I got my tongue pierced, I had to relearn how to spit. Getting a nipple pierced is surprising and painful. At one point I think I was up to 25 or 30 pieces of jewelry stuck through my body (nothing below the waist). Some rejected. Some I just got tired of maintaining. A couple of years ago, I had to start getting regular MRIs and CT scans. Taking out all those little circles and studs of steel gets really tiresome. And since I have good jewelry, I have to go into the shop to get most of them put back in. So now I’m down to 13 – a delightfully wicked number that I enjoy.

Do you have tattoos?

Natch! I live in San Francisco – they practically don’t let you in without one. And besides, what would self expression be without the colorful pictures that adorn my skin? The body is an extraordinary canvas, why not use it? Of course, there are many really bad tattoos out there. And many more that are just not my style. I give serious consideration to the art before I go under the needle, planning up to a year before I get the next one.

The three-quarter sleeve on my right arm is actually five separate pieces I did for five consecutive birthdays. Barnaby is a master artist with a great eye for color – he’s done all but three of my tattoos. (My good friend, Richard, drew several, and my husband, Dave, drew two.) I have two spur-of-the-moment tattoos – both on my back so I don’t need to look at them all the time. They represent special things, but are distinct from my other art. Most of my art is done because it pleases me – if you see me on the street, you’d probably never know it’s there.

Why do you ride an old scooter instead of a new motorcycle?

I’ve always had an affinity for old things. When I wrecked my car in my freshman year of college, I pleaded with my mom to let me get a Vespa (my then-sometimes boyfriend had one and, having ridden it around a little, I got hooked). Like many only children, I got my way and was rewarded with a 16-year-old Vespa 150 Super. I rode the hell out of that little bike over the next decade, then started expanding my collection. At one point I was up to five scooters and one motorcycle (a 1985 Yahama RZ350 – I love the smell of a two-stroke engine). My then-boyfriend had even more bikes. We actually rented a garage to store the extras. Here’s a picture from 2007 when my boyfriend-now-husband and I went scooter camping.

Basically, it’s hard to take yourself too seriously when you’re riding a scooter. Vintage scooters, if properly maintained, will give you years of fun. They make a funny noise, like an angry bee trapped in a jar. They have all the quirks and personality you get in an older relative, but they take you to fun places. Old scooters are also, mostly, geared. Automatic scooters are great for some people, but I just can’t corner without using my engine as a brake. I commuted 14 miles to work for years, riding though one of the worst El Niño years the Bay Area has seen. But even the worst day at work can be magically erased by the scooter ride home.

I did have an ultra-cool, really fast, glow-in-the-dark RZ350 motorcycle, but the thing was rife with mechanical problems and damn heavy when it fell over (which it did a lot, because it was also a little too tall for me). Though it was lovely to look at, I returned it to the person who had gifted it to me, with many tears and a fond farewell.

I’m now down to two Vespas (a 1959 VBA and a 1974 Rally 200; probably my favorite models of the entire line). I used to go on long (750 miles in three days) rides, but now I mostly stick to the city and the Marin headlands. I suspect we’ll get a motorcycle someday (and a snowmobile!), but it’s not the right time. Yet.

* One uses “an” FAQ because you pretend to say it out loud. It is however, “a Frequently Asked Questions list.” As far as punctuation inside or outside the quotation marks, though, I waffle, but generally put them inside. It seems to be cleaner that way.