Wonderlette Guy

It was sick and wrong and quite possibly the grossest thing I have been a part of recently, and I absolutely loved it. From the infected stocking cock to the rotting plastic buck teeth to the incongruous Rogers and Hammerstein music and the 50's glamour of the back-up dancers (that included moi!), I was among those outcasts, degenerates, and freaks that are San Francisco's drag scene. I have intersected this scene for more than 12 years. I have not been a part of it. Saturday night changed everything. I found home.



You can check out another performance of "Wonderlette Guy", Saturday, February 13th, 2010 at Bootie at the DNA Lounge.

Gay 90's on Roller Skates

  
There was a drag queen who always performed on roller skates at the Gay 90's. She lived in my building off of Loring Park and threw amazing parties. I cherished our friendship and her shaved eyebrows. It was a casual friendship one with only a greeting as we passed each other coming and going from the apartment complex.

One night, I snuck in to the Gay 90's to see her perform. All I remember was disco and yellow and the feeling that I'd love to be a drag queen. It scratched the itch of theatrics. I wanted to hide the still quivering and shy boy of winter behind the loud color of an illusive summer. Sometimes I still want to be an illusion.

Little Luncheonette of Drag Queens

  
In the eighth grade, I was in Little Luncheonette of Terror. It was a spoof of Little Shop of Horrors for theatre companies and schools too poor to purchase the rights to the more famous musical. The jumpsuit I wore was detailed with bubble wrap spray painted a bright leaf green to give the impression of some swamp thing from outer space. My face was also painted a verdant green with black grease accents on my nose and eyes. It was my first starring role. I was thrilled.

While I no longer perform in musicals (Did I really think I could sing?), the flair for the dramatic, theatrical, and illusion live with me. It is why I still love wigs and make up and drag queens.

Marilyn Discovered

 
Her name was Vamp. Then it was Wednesday. Now, I am not quite sure what it is. To me, she will always be Vamp. Her class and perfect make-up, her gothic look with lace and rock and roll remain with me.

I still look for her in clubs when I can muster the energy to go out. Sometimes, I see her perched against a wall with a tall cocktail in her gloved hand, the straw twitching from her impatient tongue. Most of the time I don't find her.

She was the one who discovered Marilyn. It wasn't my first time in drag. It was the best. It was Halloween in San Francisco.