Tapping into my feelings of defiance, I decided to catch Friday night's show at ODC Theater, Fresh Meat 2003, an outstanding collection of trans and queer performances. My favorite piece actually happened during intermission, when STEAMROLLER Dance invited the audience onto the sidewalk outside the theater and danced against the wall, playing with gravity. Highway flares marked the boundaries of their stage and threw multi-colored shadows while The Cure's "Catch" played on a boombox. I cried it was so beautiful. Even when the artists were portraying incredibly difficult experiences, like the brutality suffered by a butch/femme couple in Sean Dorsey and Linda Case's "Red Tie, Red Lipstick," the overall mood was one of joy and community. I wanted to join the sassy Sisterz of the Underground onstage as they broke it down to the Beastie Boys, and the Harlem Shake Burlesque had the entire audience fanning themselves to cool down after Simone de le Getto and her sexy ladies celebrated what parts the good Lord had given them. Then there was the heartstopping love poetry from Other Brothers and Navarrete x Kajiyama's entrancing "Essay on Tango." Finally the Transcendence Gospel Choir took the stage and took the roof off with their songs of praise. The world's first transgendered choir, they preach exactly the gospel of love and acceptance that I try to practice.

I won't be able to see Jeanne tie the knot with Terry next weekend due to an unfortunate scheduling conflict with the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, but I did gather with a dozen other lovely ladies Saturday afternoon to sip tea and nibble tiny sandwiches at Lovejoy's and to wish Jeanne the strength to get through this last week of prep. The tea soothed my sore throat, but I begged off from the hot-tubbing and the Prom-themed party the rest were continuing on to. Instead I headed over to the Borders at Stonestown to smooch Maaike and gossip with her parents before Dandeline set up shop in a corner of the cafe to play a short set. I didn't actually hear any of said set, however, because I was off again to attend a mysterious performance called OBJECTIVITY the complexity of simple things. The street address listed on the Web site led me to an uncomfortably familiar corner near the Castro that was deserted except for a man listening to a radio under a blanket. I thought for a moment and decided that this was probably not the performance I was looking for. I called Heather to plead for help, and she gamely found a more promising address on her computer, the San Francisco Design Center. I tore over there and arrived just in time to join the horde of neat-but-boring young people as we were herded into a showroom upstairs by attractive attendants wearing matching red hats and red rubber gloves. Everyone sat around smiling uncomfortably at each other until the doors closed and strategically-placed actors sprang to life reciting seemingly random passages and poetry. That went on for a while, then it was time to move again, this time into a very long wood-panelled trailer where there were arias and harpsichord music as we stood around clutching a blanket and an apple each. Ultimately the entire exercise seemed a touch pointless even at the same time that it was impeccably designed, not unlike the glossy magazines I love so well.

When I got home I popped in Toy Story 2 and, even though I knew it was coming, proceeded to bawl my eyes out at the scene where Jessie's little girl grows up. Such a Velveteen Rabbit moment.

Queer Cultural Center
Sisterz of the Underground
Transcedence Gospel Choir
The Fischhouse
San Francisco Design Center
Toy Story 2