PANIC!

Last night, David and I wended our way down to the East Village to Nowhere Bar for Charlie Vazquez's Panic! reading series. Nowhere Bar is a great little dive, with amazing three dollar drink specials. The crowd is a mix of bears, otters, and wolves...but the East Village Indie Punk sorta furry guys as opposed to the "I Might Eat You and Masturbate with Your Juices" Bears that hang out at the Ramrod.

The crowd last night was spectacular. At the first Panic! I attended, there was a smallish crowd that filled up about a quarter of the bar. Last night, the crowd was standing room only. Double Pride Panic! was packed. The reading started off a little slowly, but there was a great mix of men and women, all of whom were people of color. Charlie was being a bit of a bugaboo by not telling us where we would be in the line up...but that added to part of the charm of the evening. Of especially fantastic interest were Vincent Bernard, Taylor Siluwe, and Rosalind Lloyd.

Let me tell you, Rosalind read a story about a hot tranny, and the story was so damn steamy that my ass got moist. Yes lord.

I took the stage last to the cheers of new and old friends: Reggie and Steve Herrick from the Rookies, Shelly from Camp Heartland, my new fave person Allison, my old school gal pal/soul sister/co-fried chicken fiend Shante "Paradigm" Smalls, the delicious and sweet Karlo Karlo, and, of course, my love David "Good Booty" Berube.

By the time I got up in front of the crowd, folks were feeling good...the drinks had been flowin' for about an hour...and at $3 a pop...the crowd was fairly lit up and jolly. I started off by reading my poem inspired by the struggles of Chief Joseph. My set started comically as I went to flip the page to finish the first poem, and the pages stuck together. I didn't realize it and thought I had just lost a damn page...I stared blankly for a second...and then said, "Huh...I seem to have lost my poem." It was then that David started yellin' from the crowd..."The pages are stuck together."

I checked it out, and sure enough, there was the missing page. Thanks David!

I was feeling pretty jolly myself by the time I took the stage, so I was cracking jokes in between poems and tellin' bawdy stories about butts and dicks and the like. You know, the usual. I followed Chief Joseph with my ode to Nicole..."Love Poem" then I swung on through to "Christmas Eve Eve Morning," which is a poem I wrote about just how good my baby is in the sack...and, of course, I ended with "Mixed Emotions." (You can listen to Mixed Emotions by clicking on the Ninja in the side bar of my blog).

The crowd went crazy. For a minute, I thought somebody behind me was showin' their titties or doing live porn. When I realized they were clapping and whistling for me, I did my usual: I bolted from the stage. Afterwards, folks said very nice things about my reading...including several people that said that I was a "comedian," and I needed to do stand up.

Too bad when I try to be funny I turn into Fozzie Bear. Wakka wakka bitches.

The highlight of the reading was when the publisher and founder of Velvet Mafia, a press that focuses on queer erotica, approached me and said that he wanted to talk business. How about that?

After the show ended, David and I hung out with my new pal Karlo. Karlo is a super sweet human being that has a very gentle spirit. I met him at the Sol Awards of the Hispanic AIDS Forum a couple of weeks ago. We rode the train home together, where I regaled him and Titi Carlos with stories of Hot Daddy.

David and I ended the night with a special house guest, but David gets mad if I kiss and blog...so I shan't put the delicious, sweet, and fun details on here...as I would like to actually have sex with my boyfriend again before the Second Coming. Coming. Get it? Wakka wakka...

Thank you to all you lovin' and awesome folks that came out last night and showed all the artists in the show some love. A special thank you to Mr. Charlie Vazquez for having the reading series and lettin' a little old Midwestern gal such as myself up in the mix.

Everyday Heroes: Koren Hoard

Now and again I will be writing an entry about a person that should be praised publicly but will probably never be...the heroes and angels that walk among us.)

I recently wrote an article for a new queer Latin@ magazine called Zona Rosa. The topic of the article was “heroes.” That publication will have a section in each issue dedicated to the heroes of queer Latin@s. In my article, I redefined the term “hero”, stripping it of the often militaristic, capitalistic, or political elite requirement of hero-making.

In my life I have had many heroes. Some are still with me, others have passed on, and there are a few that I have not seen in years, but they are never far from my heart, mind, or spirit.

Once such person is Koren Hoard.

I remember meeting Koren a decade ago. Once upon a time there was a queer youth movement in this country that challenged gender, embraced while ripping apart stereotypes around sexual orientation, and wove a fierce joy and open sexualness and sexuality into a movement that redefined “gay” and the issues that were pertinent to our communities. Koren was one of the soul carriers of that group of young people.

On the surface, when I first met Koren, I though he was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met. I was quickly taught a valuable lesson in assuming gender, and Koren was the first non-operative transman I met. I used to tell him that he had the most beautiful breasts of any man I had ever seen. Everything about Koren is beautiful, from his smile to the gentle way he moves through the world. There is a quiet and fierce strength about the man that is uplifting. He never sought the spotlight, and the one real indulgence that he took was making sure that each night he wove into his hair brightly colored extensions that matched whatever fierce outfit he put together the next day. And I am talkin' fierce...he is the only person I know that can pull off an electric blue and magenta outfit and also rock the hair to match.

When I met Koren, he was working at the National Youth Advocacy Coalition. He did his work with integrity and that integrity was present in his friendship. I love Koren because with a word and smile, no matter how ugly your day is, was, or might be, it seems a little lighter and more bearable.

When I lived in North Carolina and worked at the NC Lambda Youth Network, I would often come home and find Koren, who lived in DC, sitting on my front porch or cleaning my roommate River's bedroom (and for that and that alone Koren deserves sainthood...River was a pig, rolled in a hog, dipped in a sewer, buried in a full septic tank). I love River.

I also loved when Koren came to visit. He would move about our house and smile. And when he asked how you were...you knew he cared and was listening.

Over the years, as I have gone through my own journey and trials...Koren would hear or read about it...and it would never fail...in would come an email or a phone call. Koren offered hugs, financial support if I needed it, or just a willingess to be there. This was after having not seen him in months and sometimes years. I know that I have never given to him the peace of mind and love that he has given me, but I would, quite seriously, do whatever I could and try to do things I knew I couldn't in order to support him and make sure he is always surrounded by peace and love and the support he needs.

I don't talk to Koren often enough. I can't remember the last time I saw him. But my love for him has grown exponentially. He is a gift to the justice movement. He is a gift to all who have had the fortune to know him, and he is a gift in my life. I love you Koren. Thank you.