Ah-ga-ssi

It’s 5:20AM and I didn’t sleep.

 

Yesterday was an off and on day. In the world outside, there were fires. There was chaos somewhere, as there always is. There were dreams being smashed and lives being ruined. Somewhere, maybe someone was happy.

Inside my house, in the very new Alabama environment, it smells. It smells like there’s maybe something wrong with the pipes in here. Sewer gas, maybe. I only smell it very late or very early, and usually only after it’s rained or the washing machine has run. But I couldn’t sleep. In fact, it’s not just the smell keeping me up. I’ve been transforming back into something I recognize from childhood, mixed in with something I recognize from my teenage years. I keep making all these lists. All these plans. I keep thinking about who I am and how I look, but in a more introspective way. Current events make me feel heavy and broken – dating is not important to me in the least, and all I can do is think about the three of us in this house.

I’ve been watching the things I like and working at the same time.

I’ve been going after leads and thinking about who I am. Who Dude Ranch is. Who The Boy Chin Wonder is. And what we will become in our current climate.

And I’ve been slowly delving back into the things I used to love, that I loved for so long.

That means, of course, Asian Horror Films have been high on my list of ‘get back into me, doll’. And I made the excellent choice to watch The Handmaiden (Ah-ga-ssi) at around 2am. Park Chan-Wook is one of my top five directors. Shit, one of my top five human beings. I salivated when I heard this movie was coming out last year, but life took over and I swiftly forgot.

This movie was a number of…great things. It engulfed me in a way that only movies on my ‘best of’ lists can accomplish. And this movie might not have aimed to change anyone, to convince anyone of anything, but I find myself changed by it. The style and delivery of it. The story, simple but still complex enough to throw you around a bit. The accurate portrayal of how men can become demons even when they fancy themselves just normal human beings.

Just normal human beings trying to get money.

Just normal human beings working out their sexual frustrations.

Just normal monsters.

The delicacy of each women, and the sudden aggression. These characters were fleshed out so damn well.

Eh. Watch it. Love it. Experience the magic that is Park Chan-Wook’s movies, his style, his way of helping you become the story.

Feel like you’re alive again.

 

 

Feed Your Head

So.

Once upon a younger Trey (back when Dude Ranch was just a tiny, big eyed baby), I stood up at a black ass block party to perform karaoke for the first and last time. Ever. I stood there, in front of a slew of black neighbors that I didn’t know (mostly young) and picked a song I knew by heart.

White Rabbit. By Jefferson Airplane.

This decision would hit me as a terrible one almost immediately after I started singing because:

  1. It is a hard song to fucking sing.
  2. I was in front of a crowd of people who had no idea who the fuck Jefferson Airplane was.

I powered through. To this day, I have no idea how I did it. It’s one of those moments that you get stuck in and can’t really stop, so you just go and go and go. I sang it terribly. As soon as it was over I heard a loud ‘THE FUCK WAS THAT WHITE SHIT’ and then just complete silence. I slunk back to where the young sir was and stored it in my ‘you are weird as hell but that’s okay’ painful memory bank.

I’d still get up and sing this song, that’s how good this song is. Grace Slick singing it makes me feel like I’ve just drowned in a pool of super strong coffee. Black with very little sugar, very little cream. She sings this shit like her soul is crawling out of her mouth.

Have I ever mentioned how much I absolutely, positively, ADORE and LOVE Grace Slick? I do. Whenever I wear straight hair it is usually in her signature style.

 

But yeah, listen to her singing this, vocals only, and tell me you don’t end up pregnant within the hour.