The Annual Magical Holiday Village

Hey Hex-mas peeps,

Each year at my house (since I was a kid) it has been tradition for my sister and I to construct a "magical village"...you know...the cute little ceramic homes that light up...fake snow...little paths, treets, gates....cliche - but fun and beautiful.

This year was no different. We once again constructed our little village and listenend to an array of eclectic holiday music - mainly the Cyndi Lauper "Merry Christmas and Have a Nice Life"
album and Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers amazing "Once Upon a Christmas" record.

When I was a kid, I believed the little tiny homes - whose windows were always lit with a delicious, fuzzy warm glow - were real. Inside were teeny tiny families with a story.

Moms and dads in night gowns, kids hanging up stockings, yule logs, egg nog and jingle bells everywhere.

I believed the village was REAL - inhabited by small lives - who, for 1 month every year get to come to LIFE. I remembered how excited I used to get while piecing this village together, how fascinated I was with EACH AND EVERY miniscule and VERY real life that lived in this little teeny tiny fabricated town that I helped design.

While we were piecing together this tiny village this year...I couldn't help but be reminded of a very sad quote I read earlier this week, which sort of had me depressed.

The quote was:
"There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child."

It was written by Erma Bombeck from I Lost Everything in the Post-Natal Depression.
Don't ask.

Anyway, it sort of rang true....and I started feeling all nostalgic and sorry for myself, seeing as this will be the last Christmas in my twenties.

But then....I took a HUGE whiff of cinamon candle, drank a nice big gulp of my grown up flavoured coffee with Bailey's and took a NICE HARD listen to Cyndi Lauper, singing her heart out about the magic of the holidays and I thought: "FUCK IT!!! Christmas ROCKS!! I'll believe in Santa til the day I DIE -and the people in this village ARE COMPLETELY REAL - just because i said so!!!!"

And so - once again - the village is BOOMING....
here are a few pics so you can see just how REAL these little dudes are...

Pretty magical hexmas tree....eerie...but the warm glow from the houses make it not as spooky...

This is the "INN"..in the far left corner you can see "Santa Claus Mountain"...which is this huge pink mountain that glows...this is like...the icon of the whole town. If you look closely, standing at the foot of the mountain, are 4 "Christmas ghosts". These are guys who all look like Santa, but wear different colour robes. I like to think of them as the life force of the village - which is why they sit - EVERY SINGLE YEAR - at the foot of Santa Claus Mountain - so they can over-look the city to make sure everything is running accordingly.

Pictured above in the right corner is FOR SURE where I would wanna stay - if I was like, teeny tiny and could spend the holidays in the Magical Village. It's a little log cabin - made of real wood. Easiliy the coziest hideaway in the entire village...and right next to Santa Claus mountain!! Could you THINK of a better way to spend hexmas??

Seriously...tell me this doesn't get you in the hexmas mood....? Would you not just LOVE living in a town like this?!?!?!?! Awww....

This girl - standing on the bridge - is another recurring character. She's the village peasant - not the richest lady in the world...but she's always out, hanging around in one of the village's most CHRISTMASSY spots....for the most part, she's MEGA happy...she always gets a very special section of the village...which is why she also gets a VERY special section of this blog.

Two more recurring characters. A dad and son doing ice sculptures. I usually put them in the park, by the ice rink, but this year they got a more decent spot - and moved into a more upscale home -pictured in the left hand corner.

Here you can check out the lighthouse - far left...a nice little shot of my fave section of The Magical Village....

This dude is always driving his horse. I love how he and his horse were lit this year. It reminds me of that Little House on the Prairie episode, some dude delivering presents by HORSE during a CRAZY mid-winter-night storm. Almost looks real....

Just a cozy little hexmas cottage...glowy...glowy...glowy...every night looks like hexmas eve...

And that, is the Annual Magical Holiday Village.

And while I am KILLING YOU ALL with nostalgia and hexmas cheese, I might as well lay it on thick....

a great quote - in response to the very sad Christmas quote I mentioned earlier - would be from that of the one and only Tom Robbins - and the words of wisdom from his insanely genius book (and my #1 read EVER) Still Life With Woodpecker.

In his infinite wisdom - he said "It's never too late to have a happy childhood."

And this Village proves it :)

hell, the only thing prettier than a quote like that...is this village.

...tis the season to realize what being a kid is all about all over again.

It also reminds me how WRONG the Erma Bombeck quote really IS.

Why does "growing up" have to mean letting go of our IDEAS of MAGIC?

In truth - we do NOT have to. Ever. No matter HOW drastically our situations change between holidays - we still have the one thing that will NEVER leave us as long as we are alive, even though we might ignore it more than we should: Our imaginations.

I know I don't use mine enough...it's an entire universe inside our skulls...at our disposal.
Maybe growing up wouldn't seem so scary if we spent a few hours a day mingling with the magical monsters who are STILL very much alive inside our heads.

La La Land...it really is a fabulous place to live...even if only for a few nights a year.

Christmas always brings it out, in me anyway.

sigh,

I heart the village.

love and hexmas balls,

daniel

Transgender Memorial

I was doing my radio show Monday night and the the host of the show which airs directly after mine - Queer Radio (what else COULD go after my show?!?) came in and told me it was a day of remembrance for transgendered people who were killed or persecuted in hate crimes.
I don't think about transgendered people often, because I don't know any personally.
But that night, while I drove home - they were all I could think about.
These people are hands down the bravest I can think of.
These are the people who make it easier for guys like me to say "I'm gay."
These are the people who take the BRUNT of the freakshow jokes - even from other queer-identified people - and still walk away not only LOOKING fabulous, but with their head held high.
Now I know it's a thick skin one must develop to identify as transgendered and it's a struggle that I will NEVER EVER understand.
I CAN understand the loneliness you can experience in being an outcast in a heterosexist world.
But I cannot grasp what it must feel like to be an outcast in your own body - so bad you just KNOW deep in your heart that the body you were born with is just FLAT OUT NOT THE ONE YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE IN.
So few can understand it.
I thought about how transgendered people could be the ever-developing missing link in some kind of sexual evolution of the human species.
I thought about how terrifying it must have been - back in the Stonewall days - for Sylvia Rivera - a transgendered woman - when she THREW the bottle at the police officer after he poked her with his nightstick while on a raid of the gay bar...and prompted RIOTS that lasted for DAYS and basically started the entire gay rights movement.
A transgendered person did this.
Not the people who blended in with society...and could be invisible.
Not the gay people who were members of law enforcement or who held power in political parties.
Not even intelligent, level headed gay people.
The TRUE supposed 'freaks' of society - stuck up for EVERYONE and prompted a fucking REVOLUTION.
It's Rosa Parks - but for gays.
And it was a transgendered woman.

Transgendered people are my heroes, for real.

Dan

My New Fave...

I can't stop listening to Antony and the Johnsons. From Cocorosie to BOTH of his amazing albums to his incredible performance in the Leonard Cohen film...WOW...he's just the most brilliant and beautiful performer I've seen in...fuck...a long, long, long time.

Got Calendars? Mark 'EM!!!!!!

Nautical themed show just in time for the holliest, jolliest time of year.
December 9th at the Avalon.
So much goodness yer gonna have no choice but to clench your teeth in ecstasy and scream "YAAAR!!!"

Hope to see many of you's kiddie-pies there...

hearts and farts,
dan

Haircutzzz

Hey tweeps, peeps and dooz-a-ma-beeps,

I'm having a late-twenties crisis.
Okay, actually - it's a mid-week crisis.
Basically, I'm sick of me hair.
Floppy. Motionless. Wannabe hippy - but not quite all there.
It's like Patti Smith meets my spinster aunt Cathy.
Trust me - if you saw my aunt, you'd know this is not a good thing.
Here I am - as of a few days ago...

Straggly. Out of control. Wild.
My hair too.
Ladies and sisters, homos and gentlemanly fags...and all the incredibly cool straight boys reading this (James) - I needs a makeover.
(Begin playing Hole's "Celebrity Skin" here)
I want drastic.
I want stylish.
I want something I have to play with in the morning, put product in, mess up.
I want hair that people will say "WOW! Nice HAIR!"
I want hair that will match my outfit.
I want something with a little OOOMPH to it.
I want something I finger style...something I can do different each day.
Here's the catch:
It has to be something safe enough that it won't look ridiculous on a grizzled, late 20 something copy writer.
I'm not so much worried about colour as I am about style and cut.
My lovely hair-dresser-in-common-law-sister Anna always does a stellar job..my problem:
I never EVER get my haircut.
EVER.
SO, I'm gonna take the plunge this time. What I need from you all - are ideas.
Here are a few I have been toying with:

I like this one cuz it is still "office-ish" but still...stylish too. I like the sides because for the first time it would show my ears off to the world (not that I'm particularily proud of them)...and I also like the sides because while it is short...it is not like..buzzed w/ a clipper. I love the top cuz you can play w/ it....I really dig this cut.

Okay, remove your pre-concieved notions about Billy joe Armstrong. Yes - he's a little guy-liner wearing punk rocker - but - take a close look at his hair. Again - I love the sides and back for the same reason as photo #1. And the top is funky and fun - but would still look nice with a dress shirt. Neat - but messy. Maybe outdated...but fuck? When did I give a shit about being in style anyway. Have you SEEN my hair lately? I look like a reject from post grunge film SINGLES.

On second thought...maybe this is a little too emo...but fuck..i can't help it...i love the ears...i wouldn't style it as crazy...but i love the back and the sides...maybe i wanna show my ears...but i don't want it TOO short on top....I want something funky.

Okay...nevermind the fact that this guy's got a body that could set off a smoke alarm - his hair aint' half bad either. A little more conservative perhaps...but I think I'm sensing a theme here. I don't want a bush (like the one that has grown on top of my head) but I still want to have FUN...I don't want a clipped, unstylable piece of work...

What do you think ? any suggestions peoples? Anyone?

If you find a cool pic on the net that you think I should try - post the link in my comments.

Hair Peace bros and sissies,

dan

Fun With Zounds

Happy Hi-Fi's brothers and sisters,

My good friend Jeffy D and I have begun the slow and tedious process of playing with fun sounds to accompany some of my poems.
Both of us love playing around with instruments and making fun, stoner jams (even if we aren't stoned) and only a few nights ago - we decided to actually RECORD one of these sessions - and then take it an extra step and lay some vocals down.
Now - no ego involved - I am not saying what we did is amazing stuff...but - it is SOO fucking fun and it is really making me consider writing in different styles.
It's like an excercise in creative process...you find out what sucks, what is great and what you need to learn about your own ...creative process and product, I guess!
I always wanted to make a small little 20 page poetry zine - and then hand it out to people at coffee shops or burlesque shows - or wherever - for free - just to spread it around for the fuck of it...just for fun...but I am leaning now towards the romantic and glamourous idea of having a little CD to give out.
Like a spoken word album!
What we have right now is BARE BONES.
All first-take stuff.
Everything will have to be re-done if I ever want to give it out to strangers, but for now - it's REALLY fun just to listen to and feel the ideas spark up.
We recorded three songs so far!!
For the Eclectic Cafe - which Jeff and I both play on...bass, guitars and organ.
January Rain - my poem - recorded to a song Jeff recorded by himself prior.
Midnight Shift Working - which is turning out REALLY cool so far, trippy, background noise, with some sad organ in the middle..but something about it makes me laugh.
Getting Fucked Out West - we actually played this LIVE one night at the Avalon to a pretty packed crowd - Jeff on guitar me on the mic - and it was recieved well - so we just figured we might as well record it. It's kind of a joke poem/song - with clippity cloppy spaghetti western chords played by Jeff in the background.
But it is really cool. We don't know what we are doing so everything we do - is if nothing else - very honest stuff.

So yeah...that's what I've been doing. And it's been SOO amazing.
The experience, not the end results - but we're working on them!!!
And like I said - all of it has to be re-done..but it is cool. It's something I've never done before but always wanted to do. Still in the early stages, but I will keep everyone posted how it's going.
I'm not much of a musician but Jeff is the PERFECT person for me to work with.
When it comes to instruments, I have NO ego.
I can be bossed around.
I can be told to do something different - and I'm receptive.
Anything Jeff tells me musically, is ALWAYS for the better.
And together - well...you might say we have a fun little knack for coming up with REALLY REALLY catchy and ORIGINAL melodies...
It's such a fun way to spend a night, making something like this - even if it's only for personal use and private consumption.

Hopefully I can someday play some for you!!

PS - I have some big news tomorrow as well...a long and winding road that has been snaking its way through my life is coming to a close.

The (not so) big reveal happens tomorrow...

love and smootchies,

daniel

Haggard

Can you imagine how Ted Haggard must feel about himself?
One of the most influential names in the Christian right and he gets busted for having party-boy gay sex complete with crystal meth with this guy.
Of course, I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at this news, grind my teeth and say "looks good on the motherfucker"....
Then I thought about what this guy must be SERIOUSLY going through.
Yeah, he was a big fucking ASSHOLE homophobic bully.
He released a statement saying there is a part of him that is "dark and repulsive".
This is how he feels about himself.
This guy is SO far in the closet - he is STILL denying that he had sex with this prostitute.
"It was just a massage," he says.
Yeah.
Except it was on his dick and the massueuse used his mouth.
But seriously - "Dark and repulsive".
Is he just a blown up version of a closeted and frightened guy who has to go into his factory job and have beers with the boys after work and grimmace and laugh when they make a fag joke?
Maybe even make a fag joke himself?
This guy is deeply involved with a church KNOWN for having a VERY anti-gay agenda.
Obviously, it has torn his own self-esteem to shreds.
No doubt in my mind he's a fucking creep.
But I think this man is SO fucked up - I honestly feel KIND of sorry for him.
I bet suicide has crossed his mind.
I don't know..is this any different than the teenage kid who commits suicide because his parents are members of some crazy church??
This guy is in a bad, bad way.
Yikes.

hearts and farts,
daniel

Who Let the Frog Out? The Bob Dylan Disaster.

Ahhh...Bob Dylan.
The Poet Laureate of Rock and Roll.
Supposedly.
I'm a fan and I can't deny the GOLD that comes out of this dude's mouth when he sings...even though he can't really sing, and his songs are always the same 3 chord typical-blues progression...the simplicity of it just clicks.
So, we had the chance to see the old cronie last night at the Palace in good ole Detroit Rock City.
Well..Auburn Hills anyway - but for rich white folk - that's close enough.
Nose bleed section, but who gives a shit.
It's about the music, right?
So the lights go down and the theatrical music goes up and the band takes the stage.
The band starts playing.
I scan the entire pile of equipment, scattered speakers and instruments, looking for Mr. Bob Dylan, knowing he is somewhere in all that musical mess.
He starts singing.
Then I notice him.
Only because his head moved - SLIGHTLY - to lean in to sing into the mic.
He's propped up against a piano like a fucking mannequin and the sounds coming out of his throat were almost...not human.
He sounded like a Velociraptor squealing after its next victim.
He sounded like a chicken with a curling iron up its chicken-ass.
He sounded like Tina Turner with strep throat.
I'm committing rock and roll blasphemy, talking about Mr. Robert Zimmerman this way...but let it be known: I expected more.
He stayed propped up against that piano for the remainder of the show like a fucking folk-rock-stuffed scarecrow.
It could have been a cardboard cut out for all I know...except a cardboard cut out MIGHT be able to sing a bit better.
All his songs last night sounded EXACTLY the same, melting into each other in the same ole Chuck Berry blues chords he's used since day one. The majority of songs were from his new album, which I enjoy very much yet they were COMPLETELY unrecognizable through his nasally slurs and the stinky vocal farts he kept laying on us all.
The audience seemed semi-responsive to him, but I'm not sure if this was out of respect - or if they were just deaf.
No big screen behind him. No visual stimulation save for a few cloudy-light effects that were used in my grade 8 play "Must be Santa" - and he stood so still on stage, I seriously thought he was gonna develope a blood clot.
Now, I didn't expect him to be lowered down on an elevator and come out with a pile of 12 hot gay dancers behind him, doing synchronized moves while pyrotechnics blasted and streamers fell from the ceiling...
But I did expect to be mesmerized by his deep, beatnik, "folk-rock-holier-than-thou-poet-god-royalty" lyrics.
You can get as old as the hills but a good song is still a good song.
Profound lyrics are STILL profound.
Except NO ONE could make them out.
So let's review the show:
He didn't move.
There was no big screen to make him out so technically - from where I was sitting, it COULD have been fucking Phyllis Diller up there, croaking like sick mule.
No visual stimulation save for some stupid light tricks used in primary schools.
And he was completely indecipherable.
"I think he's fucked up," my friend Jeff said to me at one point during the show. "I don't even think he knows what the fuck he's singing."
I stared at Bob Dylan while Jeff said this - through binnaculars - and did notice a certain "I'm not all there" haze in his eyes.
I'm almost certain I saw rigamortis begin to set in.
I kept cracking jokes with Julie about him dropping dead during his set...and at one point the two of us even left to puruse the lobby..out of sheer boredom.
Seriously.
I bought a fucking bucket of POPCORN for fuck's sake!!
Keep in mind - we are usually people who don't BUDGE from our seats during a show.
I thought for a minute that life Partner was actually enjoying the show - he is more of a fan than I - but then when Julie and I came back from getting popcorn and "just hanging out by the t-shirt stand" - Life Partner left to nab a hot dog.
He ate it in the lobby as well.
I felt a small little piece of Life Partner's heart break after Bob Dylan finished his final song before encore.
"Are you fucking KIDDING ME," Life Partner said, in disbelief. "THAT was his last fucking song before encore??? How fucking BORING...are you KIDDING me??"
I could only nod and share in his disbelief.
Mind you - my disbelief hit the ceiling when the crowd actually started cheering for him to come back.
I stared at the audience, shaking my head - a confuszed frown furrowing my brow.
"SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" I wanted to hiss, violently shushing them! "You WANT him back out here?!?! Are you all a bunch of SUICIDAL tone deaf ZOMBIES?!?!?"
Of course, I remained silent, my popcorn bowl in my lap and prayed he'd be pretentious enough to just flat out SNUB us all and not come back out to torture us with more muttled Dylan-speak.
Maybe it was all that church I skipped in highschool...hell - maybe it's the fact that I'm a fag...but my prayers: NOT ANSWERED.
Dylan took the stage yet again to my dismay - but broke into my all-time favorite tune "Like a Rolling Stone".
I've sang this song many a time at karaoke bars across the city - and one in Toronto too ! I know every word by heart, so i was excited I could at LEAST get into ONE tune.
Do you think I could follow a SINGLE word he said??
Sure, I recognized the lyrics...but they were sung too fast, off tune and half away from the microphone.
Never, in my history of concerts have I seen such a great song be SLAUGHTERED that way - and by the ORIGINAL artist at that.
He ended with Watchtower, but by the point, I was looking for a pack of cards to play a round of Go Fish with Julie.
Honestly..if we sat around, smoked a joint and someone said: "Hey...check it out - I'm gonna fart!" - It would have made for a more entertaining night.
A good concert - it was not.
Poor Bob Dylan. While I appreciate the man's music and his legacy of amazing song...I think it's time to move the show to a different kind of venue.

Like maybe...a nursing home.

hearts and farts,

Daniel.