The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale dives deeper into its loosely-self-destructive narrative, as our protagonist sheds another guise and reveals darker aspects that some people, including himself, may not be comfortable addressing. He beats these down, simultaneously stripping away constraints while adding new binds. It is at this point when he realizes he is not only rounding corners and making turns, possibly irrevocably away from where he started, but also descending – going into the depths of some subterranean dwelling – a descent into the heart of something.
“The search for a life-style involves a journey to the interior. This is not altogether a pleasant experience, because you not only have to take stock of what you consider your assets but you also have to take a long look at what your friends call “the trouble with you.” Nevertheless, the journey is worth making. Indeed, we might say that the purpose of existence is to reconcile the glowing opinion we have of ourselves with the terrible things other people say about us.” – Quentin Crisp
“You need to cultivate a lifestyle first for your own benefit – to give you a firm belief in your own identity and to prevent you from importuning others for their approval to make up for your lack of self esteem. You need a life-style in your dealings with others only to a lesser degree. It will tell them instantly who and what you are.” – Quentin Crisp
A preamble to the next section of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, this may be a wild and wandering post that reeks of vanity and self-indulgence, making it perfectly apt for this particular project. Twenty years ago, that was certainly one of the stages I was at, and thirty years ago I was even further back on that stage, preening and posing for an audience that was both never really there, and somehow watching from afar.
There was a time When I was so broken-hearted Luck wasn’t much of a friend of mine The tables have turned, yeah ‘Cause me and them ways have parted That kind of love was the killin’ kind
Way back in the summer of 1993, Aerosmith released the song and video for ‘Crying’, which is probably my favorite Aerosmith tune (making me decidedly not one of their truer fans) and definitely my favorite Aerosmith video. In it, a pre-Cher-Clueless Alicia Silverstone and pre-stardom Stephen Dorff acted out the torturous tale of young love gone wrong.
While I was still involved in an innocent dating situation with a female friend (ahh, those 90’s) and had never had quite the dramatic rollercoaster those characters were on, there was something sillier and much smaller in the video that called to me from a deeper and more profound plane. At about the 2:25 mark, after her car breaks down, our heroine doffs the very 90’s floral dress she had on and changes into jeans and a white tank. It’s a quick and minor point, but it had a powerful effect on me.
So listen All I want is someone I can’t resist I know all I need to know by the way that I got kissed
That was what I wanted to achieve in my life: transformation. I wanted to shift images like a chameleon, changing into one creature from another, and always keeping the watchers guessing. Refusing to be pigeonholed into one definitive image or style, I would strive to shed my various selves with fashion, clothing, cologne, and creation – ever-evolving and never-stagnant. If I was unrecognizable from one look to the other, all the better. Mercurial and slippery – like its quicksilver namesake – I found it safer to hide behind a multitude of masks and poses, keeping the element of surprise as my chosen weapon. It would be impossible to pin me down – and if you can’t stop someone long enough to get a good shot in, you’re never quite able to capture – or kill – them. If Alicia Silverstone could get her heart stomped on at the start of her Hollywood reign, how the hell would I stand a chance?
I was cryin’ when I met you Now I’m tryin’ to forget you Love is sweet misery I was cryin’ just to get you Now I’m dyin’ ’cause I let you Do what you do down on me, yeah! Now there’s not even breathing room Between pleasure and pain Yeah, you cry when we’re making love Must be one and the same
I started simply enough, in mimicking fashion, bringing a change of clothes on every car ride I made in the event that I had cause to slip from some stuffy school outfit into something more casual. In the summer, it was a change of necessity, as I unbuttoned a stiff dress shirt and opened the windows to let the breeze surround me in an undershirt. In later years, I’d bring a change of clothes to work when I was going out to dinner, switching into something fanciful and extravagant from the dull trappings of J. Crew office attire.
It’s down on me Yeah, I got to tell you one thing That’s been on my mind, girl, I gotta say We’re partners in crime You got that certain somethin’ What you give to me takes my breath away
I would craft images to match whatever project I was releasing: a Ralph Lauren ‘Safari’-scented romantic look with black vests and frilly white poet sleeves for a ‘Love’ project ~ a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and bulky booted trade ensemble for the ‘diSenchAntMent’ work ~ or a frilly, feathery, boudoir-appropriate robe for the Divine Diva project you may reference below. All of it was in service to shedding my various selves and finding out what was underneath all the layers. I hid and obscured as much as I aimed to reveal, digging deeper in an insane attempt to get out of the hole I was making. I wish I’d seen and understood that earlier, but such was the journey I had to take.
Now the word out on the street Is the devil’s in your kiss If our love goes up in flames It’s a fire I can’t resist
These days, I don’t dive so deeply into my creative pursuits. I’ve learned to create a healthy distance from whatever project I’m exploring to the person I am in real life, easily separating whatever artistic flights I might fancy from my family and friends and husband. There is a definitive delineation that allows me to explore different themes here, in writing and photos, without danger of slipping into a persona that isn’t aligned with who I intrinsically am – even if facets do overlap and dovetail. Whenever something makes me uncomfortable, that’s a sign it’s something I need to explore.
‘Cause what you got inside Ain’t where your love should stay Yeah, our love, sweet love, ain’t love ‘Til you give your heart away
Which brings us to the present moment, and this look-back at The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale. It was at that time when I remember just starting to see and sense that separation between artist and artistic output, just beginning to feel the safety of that demarcation and distance. The ensuing two decades have shown that I still have much to learn, and that the work is something that never ends – not that I would ever want it to reach some sort of conclusion: the lovely and infuriating conundrum of learning that there will only ever be more to learn keeps me keen and eager for what’s next and what’s new.
The following step of 2005’s Divine Diva journey arrives with the next installment of this project, which ricochets from the feminine stylings of the previous entry to the more masculine stylings of our next entry… stay tuned.
I was cryin’ when I met you Now I’m tryin’ to forget you Your love is sweet misery I was cryin’ just to get you Now I’m dyin’ to let you Do what you do, what you do down to No, no, baby, baby, baby
Ricocheting from the stereotypically-masculine to the stereotypically-feminine, the push and pull of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale may be as profound as it is silly. One of the main tenets of that project was poking a little fun at myself, and looking as ridiculous as possible, while also positing some inherent questions on what makes a man or a woman. It sounded more superficial back then, which is precisely how I wanted it to be. These days, such questions take on greater resonance, as more and more people are being attacked for being different or other. That is way too serious for someone in a wig like this.
And lip gloss like that.
We won’t even get into the rest of the make-up…
Such a wigged-out state is ideal for this interlude, which constitutes our lone Divine Diva Tour entry for the week. Catch up on all previous entries below.
When you’re able to see its stupidity and social construct, you can pick up its various elements and present something wholly fabricated for public consumption. Sometimes all it takes is one accessory or pose – the people always fill in the rest with what they want to see, what they find comfort in seeing. It’s what they have always seen. Playing with this and upsetting expected notions was how I got off twenty years ago, and plays a major part in the formulation of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale.
Imprisoned by the yellow tile of a locker room, our protagonist contemplates the various ties that bind him. Sartorially, he remains a prisoner. Socially, he stays an outsider. Stylistically, he is the ultimate trickster. Something about shape-shifting removes emotional earnestness. You do not know what to believe, you do not know what is true, you do not know what is real. There is the body, there is the brain, there is the heart, there is the soul. Science does not quite match up to style. Life is a pose.
Some passages of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale were simply for fun, much like the accompanying bop by Madonna, which loosely ties in to the already-loose football locker-room theme seen here. Sporty cosplay before we even had words for it, bringing me back to the lighthearted nature of the world in 2005, when violent romps were mostly of the imagined sort, not playing out literally on our streets and sidewalks. Madonna, take me away…
Fans can make you famous,
a contract can make you rich,
the press can make you a superstar,
but only luv can make you a player…
The music was silly, the poses were sillier, and the wardrobe was the silliest. Try on different guises was the main pelvic thrust of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, and in 2005 I had the body to slide like quicksilver into just about anything. It allowed me to inhabit people I wouldn’t have otherwise encountered on a daily basis. It allowed me to grow.
Back then I was just on the verge of turning 30, which felt slightly old to me then, especially as a gay man whose community put an impossibly high bounty on youth and beauty. Twenty years later I’m about to turn 50, and feel more at peace about it, which is a lucky turn of fortune, as fighting the fact of getting older is a losing, wasteful, and foolish battle. Still, it would be lovely to fit into a 30-inch pair of pants again, but that ship has sunk. At least there are pictures to prove that it once happened.
We are what we are and what we are is an illusion. We love how it feels putting on heels causing confusion. We face life though it’s sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter; Face life, with a little guts and lots of glitter. Look under our frocks: Girdles and jocks, Proving we are what we are!
‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’ posits the extremes of the stereotypically-masculine and the stereotypically-feminine, and somewhere in-between, or perhaps far beyond, is where this current entry takes us.
We are what we are – Half a brassiere, half a suspender. Half real and half fluff, You’ll find it tough guessing our gender. So Just {whistle} If we please you that’s the way to show us. Just {whistle} ‘Cause you’ll love us once you get to know us. Look under our glitz: Muscles and tits, Proving we are what we are.
We face life though it’s sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter, Face life, with a little guts and lots of glitter. Look under our frocks: Girdles and jocks, Proving we are what we are!
Football and frocks go together in my mind like hot dogs and mustard. A magical mix, made better together than when separated out. Twenty years ago I felt fractured and splintered – in many ways I was just trying to put myself together. That began with reconciling all the opposing natures within my wayward head. That began with football fashion, fabulous frocks, and the amalgamation of all my compartmentalized pieces.
Two sides of the same coin, thirteen sides to a strange die, a multitude of factions, and a breakdown of fractions. The world is better viewed one tiny piece at a time, one broken shard and splintered bit of wreckage examined and studied and researched from the inside out.
How strange it is to feel so split, how lost it leaves the soul…
… and no matter how much you learn to reconcile, to join, to heal – it never quite comes together. We are never whole.
“There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even admitting this there is no catharsis, why punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling.
This confession has meant nothing.” ~ ‘American Psycho’
“But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am not there.” – ‘American Psycho’
Bret Easton Ellis wrote a modern-day masterpiece in ‘American Psycho’ and though it’s messy and gritty and an over-the-top rendering of the 1980’s, it has glimmers of the American Dream encased within its glossy, blood-sticky facade. The movie version contains some indelible images as well, and it inspired this section of ‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’.
Switching out thorns for florals, a host of flitting fireflies arranges a little halo of flowers around my head in some former fairy life. In those days there was play for the sake of play, dress-up for the joy of dress-up, and sliding into a new persona was escapism enough from a world that didn’t demand it as much as this one does.
Dressing for the fairy forest demands a light touch, especially when the nights turn warm and the moon reflects a sultry shade of persimmon. The seasons were the same twenty years ago, even if I wasn’t.
The fairy has often been underestimated and denigrated throughout history, kept small in the way that the mighty always want to conquer the meek. It wasn’t applause that saved Tinkerbell – it was having the power to charm the audience into said applause. The fairy cannot be weak; the fairy must be wily. Whether that’s through wit, cheek, or other fairy tricks, it’s a matter of survival. Little things of charm and whimsy are too easily crushed – and not so easily crushed, too.
The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale gets its weekendly posting place with this kick-off – an interlude that reveals how much has happened in twenty years. First, the shoddy WordArt and cheap-ass costumes have aged about as well as my abs and hair color. Second, the amateurish posturing and my Zoolander facial contortions are laughable as well. About the only thing that withstands the test of time is this driving power-pop anthem from the 80’s. It gives the ultimate element of cheese-please that puts this into so-bad-it’s-almost-good territory, and that’s the best we’re going to get today.
Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the risin’ odds? Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need
I need a hero I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight I need a hero I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta be soon And he’s gotta be larger than life, larger than life
Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy Somewhere just beyond my reach, there’s someone reaching back for me Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat It’s gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet, yeah
I need a hero I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight I need a hero I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta be soon And he’s gotta be larger than life, larger than life
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above Out where the lightning splits the sea I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me Through the wind and the chill and the rain And the storm and the flood I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood
Some people can be bound and gagged, spanked and humiliated, punished and degraded until their skin is red and raw and glistening with the sweat of pain – and still hold all the power in the room. It’s an unusual sort of sway, to get people to treat you that way, to trick them into thinking they have any sort of power over you. It’s madness and magnificence, mess and muck – the prettiest and most awful sort of fuck.
I never promised you a rose garden this summer.
I only promised you an island.
And every person is their own island.
Especially in the summer.
This section of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale comes to its saucy close as our first full week of summer begins. Brace yourself for rollercoaster whiplash…
Playing with a persona is the safest way to try on a new look, and I promise it won’t get stuck like that.
If you give the merest whisper of an identity, people will often just fill in the rest. Like when you put forth a pixelated or distorted picture – people will bend it and will it into what their minds want it to be.
I’ve always been lazy that way: providing the basic pose and letting others fill in my blanks.
The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale resumes its online posting schedule, twenty years after appearing in three-ring-binder form, fronted by lavender lace, backed by a rainbow tapestry of ribbons, and accented by a poof of ostrich feathers. Yes, I am using poof as a noun, because when you know the rules you can break them.
This entry begins as a black and white study in gay eroticism, with hints of sadomasochism and an underlying tension of possible bondage – the classic hallmarks of divinity. The photos will speak for themselves – previous divine links further below, in case you get cold-feet scrolling…
“The fairy tale even projects this acceptance of reality for the child, because while extraordinary transfigurations in the hero’s body occur as the story unfolds, he becomes a mere mortal again once the struggle is over. At the fairy story’s end we hear no more about the hero’s unearthly beauty or strength… Once the fairy-tale hero has achieved his true identity at the story’s ending – and with it inner security about himself, his body, his life, his position in society – he is happy the way he is, and no longer unusual in any respect.” – Bruno Bettelheim
