Posts Tagged ‘steampunk’

These Boots Were Made

April 18, 2015

For walking.

And that is what I did a lot of today.

No bicycle for me.

I had today off.

It was not much different, in some ways, then a normal Friday.

I just got up an hour later, what a treat, and did laundry a day early, also a treat, but instead of getting on my bicycle and heading to the Mission for work, I headed to Mission Bay, UCSF to visit a friend and her husband and their brand new baby boy.

It was really amazing to see the little nuclear unit and he is a delicious little boy, the cheeks, oh, I could write pages of words on those cheeks.

I might lose a reader or fifteen, but really, fresh baby boy cheeks, so lovely and divine.

Mama was looking great and I was honored to be holding the little guy not even 24 hours after he was born.

It’s a privilege, this life.

And to get to stare into the eyes of a fresh, new, human being, I felt so alive and hopeful and happy and awed.

And well.

All the things.

It was also an experience to be at the UCSF Children’s Hospital.

I remember when it was the old Burning Man offices.

I remember when I nannied out of that space and all the things that have come for me because of that experience, an experience I get to continue having, so grateful to get to be a playa nanny again.

It really is amazing.

And I was wearing my playa boots.

New ones.

I did pull the trigger, I found a great pair on sale on-line, not too expensive that if I trash them I’ll be horribly upset and not too cheap that they won’t wear well on playa and they are cute and shall be wearing them out tomorrow night as well to the Steampunk Masquerade Ball at NIMBY in Oakland.

I broke in the boots a bit today with the walking around.

After I tore myself away from the new baby and kissed my friend goodbye I headed to the Mission to do a little shopping for the ball.

Because, well, why not.

I had spent some time looking through my supplies and things last night and I looked over my spending plan for the month and I found a little wiggle room.

And I found a few things to wiggle into that room.

I went to the obvious place in the Mission for steam punk attire.

Five and Diamond.

Normally, not a spot I frequent.

Too expensive.

However, if one is savvy shopper, there are things to be found.

And I found the two things I wanted and both were on sale.

Yay.

I got a pair of navy ruffled bloomers high-waisted with three buttons running up the front panel and ruffles around the bottoms and tidy little ribbons on the side.

Normally $100.

On sale.

On sale.

And further on sale as they were the last pair in the store.

Final price.

$20.

Go me!

The other thing I picked up was a pair of goggles, $25, same exact style as the ones I have worn for the last five burns.

I won’t be wearing them tomorrow, it’s a masquerade ball, I’ll be wearing a mask, but I had to replace the ones that I lost last year.

It was time to replace them anyhow, I recall not being horribly upset that I had lost them as the lenses were scratched up with use, five years for a set of playa goggles is pretty good, especially when I think of how long I used them.

Then I popped into Multi-Kulti on Valencia, which is a like a discount “dance” store–like on a pole kind of dancing–and got a pair of KBell knee-high socks in grey (to match my boots) and black stripes with ruffled tops.

Plus a plain black mask.

I have another mask already, but you have to hold it, it’s on a stick and I know I am going to want to dance, so I figure a plain black one that I can slip on my face will do me much better than carrying around a mask on a stick.

Besides.

It was a buck and some change.

And then it was off to get my nails done and do the deal at Our Lady of Safeway.

But something lured me into Cary Lane.

And there.

Oh yes.

Just there.

That sweet spot.

You know it, I know it, when something sings out and it’s the perfect fit and the perfect dress for the occasion.

I felt pretty set with my ruffled bloomers.

I mean, I figure, wear my utility belt, my boots, some fishnets, the striped socks with ruffles, some makeup and a few flowers in my hair and boom.

Steampunk Masquerade Ball.

Oh.

I will compare and despair.

Hopefully I will keep it brief.

There are always going to be extraordinary, sexy, over the top, amazing people at these events, the costumery is just outstanding and my stuff is not really steam punk, but it will work and it’s cute.

Then I saw the dress and it is.

Not over the top with details and I might not coin it steam punk as a stand alone piece, but it’s damn close.

And it fits like a dream.

I was sort of shocked.

It’s not a style I normally try on and I just went for it and I am happy I did.

Regular price $137.

On sale.

$45.

Sweet!

So now I have a “costume.”

It’s not really a costume, but I will fit in and feel good and be pretty and I like that.

Being pretty.

It’s nice.

It’s a gift and I am grateful for it.

The dress is versatile too, I could wear it on a date.

Although, I have to stop asking.

Really.

Total sidebar.

I inquired after someone tonight.

Gay.

Gah.

Damn it man.

I’m done asking out as well.

The only way I am going to know for sure.

Is if the guy asks me out.

That’s it.

No more online dating.

No more asking out.

Done and done.

Tomorrow will be for dressing up and playing and hanging out with my friend and seeing old friends and maybe making a new friend or too.

I’m not going to focus on what I don’t have.

But what I have.

Fabulous friends.

New boots.

A beautiful new baby in my community.

A gorgeous new dress.

And somewhere to wear it too.

That is more than enough.

Abundance.

Prosperity.

Love.

More than enough.

Off With Their Heads!

April 17, 2015

Or something like that.

I am going to the Steampunk Masquerade Ball with Serpent Mother on Saturday at NIMBY in Oakland hosted by Airpusher Collective.

I have no idea what I am wearing, perhaps a mask?

Bahaha.

But in the spirit of trying new things, going new places and having new experiences, I agreed to grab a ticket, $30, and go with a girl friend of mine who I don’t get to see a lot of and really want to reconnect with.

And she’s got a car.

So I won’t have to BART over.

Even though the event is offering shuttles from the BART, which is hella cool, I much prefer to not have to take the N-Judah to the BART en costume.

What costume that is going to be, fuck if I know, but I’ll pile my hair up on my head and stick some feathers and flowers in it and wear a mask and my playa boots and say fuck it that’s good enough.

I actually dug out my Burning Man bin and found what I had forgotten, that I lost my favorite goggles last year and need to replace them.

That I don’t have much by way of costume, either.

Really my wardrobe, in its current state is what I wear when I go to Burning Man, give or take a pair of striped socks.

I feel a tiny compulsion to purchase “steampunk” attire, but I don’t want to drop a load of money.

Really, though, I am just happy to have some weekend plans aside from doing the deal and making food for the work week.

Sometimes that feels like all I do, although, that feeling is not a fact and I know that the basics that I do cover allow me to go out and have the experiences that I crave.

This is going to be fun, I will see some folks, hopefully, that I don’t typically see until I am out on playa, and I will get to hang with my friend, catch up, dance, look at art, be fabulous, wear fishnets (please, I have many pairs and they haven’t been worn in months), dance some more, be around fire (fire! fire!) and the Flaming Lotus Girls work–Serpent Mother.

I love me some fire art.

I do.

I do.

There is just something about it that makes me happy.

I don’t recall why I did it, but when I was four years old and I lit a bunch of paper bags on fire in a dry lot behind the apartment building we lived in.  I got the bags, I got the matches, I rounded up the neighborhood kids, and I lit that shit up.

Of course my ass got lit up soon thereafter.

I didn’t know what a drought was, but the neighbor lady did and boy, oh boy, did she bend my mom’s ear.

My favorite smell?

Firewood burning.

More specifically, bonfire on the beach, but I will happily take the smell of any wood burning, well, except chemically treated plywood, I’m surprised I’m not dead from the shit I inhaled when I was a homeless kid building campfires from scavenged wood in Miami, that stuff is horrible.

I almost always have candles burning in my home.

I love the way matches smell when lit.

I used to be a smoker.

But you know, cough up a little blood and a lady changes her mind.

“I saw that!” He said, drawing back, “don’t you dare ask for one!”

He chastised me.

I didn’t even realize that I had leaned forward inhaling the dry smoke wafting from his Camel cigarette at Burning Man.

I was out with a friend taking photographs and he smokes.

I don’t, not for nearly ten years now, well, May will make ten years, but that night, I don’t know what it was, had he offered I might have.

Burning Man is one of the few places and times I have been tempted to smoke, but I never have and doubtful I will start this event either.

There is a romance to it though.

All things must burn.

Maybe it’s the ephemeral, maybe it’s the magic of fire.

I could watch wood burn in a barrel and be happy as a clam for hours.

My first time out as a playa nanny the dad handed over his fireman’s jacket, the real deal, and I happily wrapped myself up in it and got as close to the burn barrel as possible.

I should have been a fire fighter.

That was a dream I had once.

But I’m too old now, that’s for sure I cannot imagine what it would take at the age of 42 to get into the fire academy.

Rather I’ll relish the work of others and stand aside to fantasize.

Burn baby burn.

Anywho.

There’s a day yet to decide what to wear, not that I think it’s really all that important, but I do want to dress up a little, flex a little Burning Man muscle, have some fun.

“Make sure you have fun this weekend!” She admonished me as we walked out the gates tonight at Our Lady of Safeway.

“Do something nice for yourself,” she added, and hugged me.

I do like to take a suggestion, I’m good at following directions.

I will do something fun.

I promise.

I won’t worry about what to wear, rather I will just be glad that I splurged on the ticket and I will get to go and have a new experience.

The event is being held at NIMBY in Oakland, which is a huge DIY warehouse on Amelia Street.

It’s funny when I think about it, there are lots of DIY things and art that I find compelling and amazing and attractive, yet I have no compulsion to DIY anything.

But I am always amazed by people who are, I admire the carpenter, welder, sculptor, painter, fire magician type folks, hell even a seamstress amazes me.

I have no skills along those lines and I find that kind of talent and ability quite sexy.

Maybe one day.

But for now.

I shall be content to don a dress and mask and boots and join in support of some extraordinary artistic talent.

Thirty dollars beyond well spent.


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