Now for something FUN.
And an update.
Howdy, Kumquat!
How you holding up out there?
I’m doing well, though there is a lot of processing going on about the life I left behind in California. In some ways, my life is still sitting there waiting for me to figure it out, because I’m paying rent on a storage unit with everything I own inside, and my beloved 2000 Toyota Tacoma is out there too, which is both sad and inconvenient.
Recently, I was asked to write a testimony supporting someone who is taking my former landlord who evicted me to court. As you recall, The Nest was my 1500sf art production studio with a stage— kind of small underground venue in the foresty Sierra foothills— that I was building for 3 years up until April 2023. The Wilder Side already knows about this, but figured I could share this with ya’ll over here too.
I agreed to give my testimony in support of her claim and spent about 10 days chewing on it before sitting down to write my side of the story this past Wednesday.
Truthfully, I was knocked a little bit sideways by this request and a torrent of buried feelings about it all flooded me, quite unexpectedly. I had to really work through it. And thanks to my friends who also helped.
The thing is, it was a complicated situation.
It was a commercial building zoned for light industrial use. The landlords (both prior and current) only ever gave us month-to-month leases, so they had the legal right to evict us whenever they wanted. They knew that 20-25 people were living there illegally, and mostly turned a blind eye. We all had to hide and be secretive, which is a shitty way to have a community, and so there wasn’t one.
I never was one for living in my studio anyway. I truly wanted to live in one place and work in another, but that has just not been possible for many years. After the 1-2 punch of my divorce and getting cancelled by the burlesque community online (both of which greatly impacted my livlihood)— I relocated to LA in 2017. There, I struggled mightily to survive as a dog walker.
I rented rooms from some passive aggressive milennials and had a storage unit where I would go and just sit amongst my costumes and cry, promising that one day we would be reunited. My 5th time moving in LA was into a former kimchi factory that was going to be built out by a group of artists and I was finally able to get rid of the storage unit and be with my work, all under one roof.
It was such a relief…that lasted all of 2 months.
I moved in February 1st and then I moved right back out May 1st of 2020.
The timing of the pandemic hit in my life 3 months after I got a minimum wage job as the receptionist for Trashy Lingerie (not sorry to see that go), 2 months after I moved into the kimchi factory and only 2 weeks before I was scheduled to teach my first yoga class in LA, after “auditioning” at about 10 places over several years.
So many almosts in LA.
But it was a blessing in disguise because I discovered Northern California and I fell in LOVE. I happily waved good bye to the cruel roommates, the horror show of Skid Row which was spilling all over downtown and to the well-documented LA fuckery. I finally got my own place in Nevada City, which is not in Nevada and is not a city, but I loved it all the same.
When I arrived I also had use of a small cabin I was trying to rent long term. Folks leaving the Bay due to Covid really gobbled up everything. During my 3 years out there, I watched the residential rents in the area go from $600-800 for a single person dwelling to $1200-1500. I tried living in an RV. I was forced to sometimes live in my truck. I crashed with friends and my sister who moved out too.
I wound up living in my studio full time despite a lot of effort to play by the rules.
It fucking sucked and I still got evicted anyway.
I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone.
I wasn’t trying to get away with something by living there, I was trying to get on my feet and make a living with my craft. Which also most people tell me is frivilous, too hard or that art is just a hobby. Fine, muggles. You live in your world, I’ll live in mine. Nothing is impossible AND I have done it before AND it’s my soul’s purpose for being here and I know it, so I don’t lie to myself. I do whatever it takes to stay true to my path. Yes, I understand how hard it is. I also am skilled at several different arts, surely not all of them are unemployable.
Anyway. I’ve had to suck it up and move on so many times that alchemy and turning shit to gold are a few of my super powers. Being forced to just keep going because I had no choice I guess also means there’s a lot of feelings to unpack when you do land somewhere. It hurt me deeply and I lost a lot. Many times now this has happened.
I’m not a victim— but I’ve been in more precarious situations than I prefer for my body, mind and spirit— due to some unfortunate circumstances.
If you look at the situation legally, I was gambling and I lost.
But what happens to artists should matter to everyone. We are the invisible glue, the rush of blood in your loins, the ones who make your heart beat fast. Artists remind you that you’re ALIVE. They dare you to dream bigger! To be more you! To feel more FREE!
Why does the world seem so joyless right now? Maybe it’s got nothing to do with politics or the controllers, but everything to do with believing in magic and being able to be creative again.
Do you know how much more fun the world would be right now if artists like me could get up on our feet?
I’m not saying all artists are created equal. I’m not trying to have raves or sex parties. I’ve used neither people, drugs or selling out as a path to get there, but have chosen to keep going with hard work, grit and determination instead. I just kept my head down and got back to work over and over and over.
I’m writing a longer piece in which I poke around at the sticky issue of low income artist housing, so we’ll revisit this topic.
I’ll just wrap this part up by letting you know that I obsessed over the whole thing and wrote a 3 page testimony and then I changed my mind.
In my situation, I was late on rent and that’s the most basic reason to be evicted by a landlord. He did it in a shitty way, but unfortunately, it’s not illegal to be an asshole. We all knew the deal.
Also, in subsequent conversations with the woman filing the claim, I got the sense she was “hopped up on justice” in a pitch-fork-weilding way that I have been on the receiving end of myself many times. Having dared to disagree with the militant wokesters in the burlesque “community”— I had my ass handed to me and it’s still impacting my life 7 years later. I don’t think I’d do a damn thing differently because it revealed to me a lot of people and places I had been investing in that did not have my best interest in mind.
But blessings are almost always in disguise.
Now, I just don’t have the stomach for outrage. I see the world as a many faceted jewel and trust that things happen for a reason and we can’t always see the up side when we are in the shit. But nothing lasts forever, so eventually something better will happen.
Basically, I have faith.
I chose to keep the letter to myself and not add my story to pile of testimonies she is gathering.
The experience was a catalyst for me to sort through a lot of feelings I hadn’t looked at and that’s gift enough for me. A Mercury retrograde flavored gift and I’m thankful.
Now.
On with some fun things!
FIRST…
I really enjoyed this article on Substack this week on the Square Man, Round World blog. It was a sweet love letter of sorts from a straight dude to women in which he brings up some great points. It had me thinking a lot.
And I agree with him that if relationships are important to you, it’s impossible to know too much about the other half. It only helps you to learn to be in better relationship with others, so it’s useful to think about these things.
He asks 2 important questions—
Why do men want sex so badly, all of the time? And
Why is that a problem?
Check it out:
I actually shed a few tears when I read this part:
Your husband’s attention, even if he’s not the most impressive guy in the world, means something. It’s your home. It’s what supports you. Most women like the strong, protective, decisive man — so they can live underneath that umbrella. And they like when, underneath that umbrella, he also listens and plays and attends. It’s safety. It’s love.
And your body, that's his umbrella. It is his happiness. It’s not just fun, it’s not just playtime. It’s his home. It’s where he finds his value as a man. Your body is the place where he goes to get his reward for all the effort he puts into being masculine and strong and decisive and protective. Your body is his reward. Your body is the fountain he drinks from.
That’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve read in a long time. Maybe romance is still alive. I sure hope it finds me!
Second…
Star biographies are my favorite! Especially Old Hollywood star stories. Of course with Wicked coming out, it’s dusting off a lot of classic Wizard of Oz stuff and that is one of my top 5 most influential and loved movies, so I’m loving it.
Last night I went down a Glinda rabbit hole.
Although this video title must be an AI-generated title meant for click bait, because I didn’t really find Billie Burke’s story that tragic. She lived a life of ups and downs, like every other human being on this planet and she seems to have handled it gracefully.
I learned so much about her and…HOLY SHIT!
I had no idea Billie Burke had such a long career in vaudeville and radio before movies and was from a deep circus family, her father a famous Ringling Brothers & Barnum & Baily clown— Billy Burke, whom Billie was named after, obviously.
Ya’ll know that I’m an acrobatic burlesque clown so that really tickled me to discover.
And then she married THE Great Florenz Zeigfeld of the Zeigfeld Follies on Broadway and later the movies?! Before the Depression hit, their life looked like a ridiculously extravagant rich person’s cartoon with a whole menagerie of exotic animals on their palatial property. How fun to even have a few years of stories to tell about that kind of thing. They lost it all but the stories live on!
The part of Glinda though, almost went to Fanny Brice.
And Billie was in her 50s when she played the Good Witch of the North.
What a woman.
I Saved the BEST for Last:
It’s that time of year where we get to watch all our favorite nostalgic holiday movies over and over again like we’re kids!
I may be biased because I made this one, but this 23 minute surreal holiday romp is my FAVORITE CHRISTMAS MOVIE!!!
Filmed at The Nest in Nevada City December of 2020!
Edited over a period of 6 months into 3 episodes it’s now one 23 minute whole movie!
Scored with ALL ORIGINAL MUSIC by my talented musician friends.
Starring my performing friends whom I had to cajole into appearing during quarantine when we were all engulfed by fear!
Also starring the videographer’s dog due to the absence of enough performers to fill all the parts!
With appearances from my two best dog friends, MJ and Toast, from LA who stayed with me for 3 months out in the mountains!
With gobs of silly jokes, props, gags and costumes that I refined during my 15+ years of making Christmas burlesque shows, which are always my favorite.
It’s a scrappy, no-budget, campy, partially improvised, irreverent, ridiculous, heart warming tale that will give you the warm-fuzzies.
All reasons why Elf Colored Glasses needs to be on your Favorite Holiday Movie list!
Have a great weekend— go spread some holiday cheer!
Actually fond of egg nog,
Trixie
PS I forgot to put Episode 7 on YouTube in order with the rest, but it went up last Tuesday. Catch up on all the fun!