On the other hand, it's totally worth it for the Shuffle Meta. Because that was a segue worth blogging about.
Because my life is built of synchronicities, and of course all the talk of gender roles and genderfuck and kinesthetics and performance of same would intersect, I offer this photograph from Brian Rasic's website. (Look around some more while you are there; he does good work. I love the shot of The Residents. Awesome. Whatever happened to them?)
I was talking to misia and commodorified and truepenny and a couple of other people about this shot, and the two things that struck me about it.
The first being that those are totally the Speak Evil, See Evil, Hear Evil monkeys. (Also, rock stars huddling for warmth. Where's the bad?)
The second being about body language and so forth. When I say I'm primary kinesthetic, I mean, the first thing I do upon looking at a picture is put myself into it physically. I don't see it so much as sense it. And I was really struck by the gender performances in this pic.
In terms of genderfuck and gender performance, when we talk about butch or femme, we're not talking about it in the sense of implied sex-roles within the gay community. (Takes me back to a conversation with cpolk about how hysterical the adoption of Gay Code as pop fashion by 80's teens was to those with a clue. OMG, the bandannas. And the earrings. And the bitty ponytails. *dies all over again*)
What we're talking about is whether somebody is "butch" or "femme." Which is not the same thing as masculine or feminine. Or gay or straight. Or top or bottom. (To speak in false dichtomies for a moment.) I'm butch, though I can femme up pretty convincingly when I need to. misia's femme. We're both fat white women with bobbed hair; the difference is how we wear ourselves.
Anyway, it occurred to me that this photo is a beautiful freaking type example of not just that kind of performance, but also of what I mean when I talk about a kinesthetic sensorium. (If you haven't clicked through, it's a candid photo of Mick Jagger, David Bowie, and Pete Townshend sitting on an ottoman or something; I found it while I was collecting Bowie pictures for icons.)
And the body language is fantastic. Jagger's obviously freezing his ass off. He's huddled under a jacket and hugging himself, and yet he's totally butch. Bowie's behind the other two, but he's sprawled all over the place, has physical, visual, and kinesthetic command of the space, and is yet as femme as they come. And Townshend is sitting there like you posed him on purpose to be the neutral control. (And looks exceedingly goofily cute, I have to say, but I'm predisposed to like anybody who spends that much time on charity work.)
I think I may finally be figuring out ways to talk about this stuff so that I an continue using it in my books, and make it more transparent to the readers I lose with it now. The trick is to open it up without dumbing it down, because alienating your core audience is a stupid way to make a work more accessible.
to do list:
package up stuff to mail to various places, including ARCs and things for kelliem
mail these things tomorrow after the gym
go to the bank which is next to the post office
do sekrit project