Southern Comfort part 1

I decided to fly to Atlanta for Southern Comfort this year. I haven’t been on an airplane in the last seven years or so. I usually drive to Atlanta–driving through the South is pleasant this time of the year–but the spectre of gas shortages, to say nothing of the price of gasoline, put me off. I got a great price on a round trip ticket out of Kansas City that saved me about $160 all told. So I flew.

I had to make some hard choices when I was packing. I chose not to take my green ball gown (a choice I came to regret), nor more than three hairpieces. I cut down on the number of corsets, too, though I took my favorites. Most of what I took was separates, so I could mix and match different outfits without packing a lot of stuff. It worked out pretty well except I’ve lost some weight since I bought some of my clothes. Poor fit was a bugaboo for me all week. When I loaded up the car, Felicia asked me if I was going to be able to survive with so little. She’s seen what the car usually looks like when I load up for SCC.

Kansas City’s airport is the most trouble-free airport I’ve ever seen. They say you should get to the airport at least an hour early, but I could have shaved it to 15 minutes at KCI. It’s designed that well. Even the security check didn’t take more than two minutes. I purposely dressed in a more conservative manner for the flight out as a hedge against being searched. I wasn’t searched, so I guess it worked. The worst thing about flying out was the fact that my luggage doesn’t have wheels. That wasn’t too godawful a problem at KCI, but the airport in Atlanta is another matter entirely. I got quite a work-out in the Atlanta airport, both upon arrival and departure. Note to self: buy new luggage next year, luggage with wheels. Zelda picked me up at the airport after a half-hour of communication foul-ups. We stopped at a Burger King to get some food before we went to the hotel. After stowing my luggage, I went down to the lobby at the Sheraton to socialize for a bit with whoever was on-site. Then I went up to the room to get girlied-up for the Tuesday night pre-conference Southern Belles social. The picture of yours truly on the Belles site for this particular event is ghastly, so you’ll forgive me if I choose not to provide a link. Alas…

Meanwhile, the AV part of my seminar was coming apart at the seams. The DVD I burned with all the data wouldn’t even read on Zelda’s computer (she has a Windows laptop, I authored the presentation and the DVD on a Mac–data DVDs seem to be incompatible cross-platform). Plan B: ask the hotel if they could provide a machine on which to run the disc. They made every effort to accomodate me, but they didn’t have a Mac on-site, and would have to rent one. Price for rental: $200. Thank you, no. SCC comp-ed me part of the conference fees, but they didn’t comp me THAT much. Meanwhile, Zelda was freaking out over Hurricane Rita. Zelda, bless her heart, has a serious phobia about hurricanes. She’s from around New Orleans, and though her home and family escaped the damage from Katrina, she felt guilty for not being at home for the potential disaster of Rita. She was a hair’s breadth from leaving on Thursday morning, but I think her wife talked her down.

I embarked upon Plan C on Wednesday morning. There is a Kinkos not three blocks from the hotel, so I traipsed down there in boy mode (ghastly boy mode at that; ugh) in the hopes that they would have a machine that could read my disc. If so, I would transfer all my files onto data CDs and from the data CDs, I would transfer the presentation and movie files to Zelda’s computer. Unfortunately, the Mac they had at Kinkos was slower than mollasses, and I ended up paying $28 for this. Afterwards, I high-tailed it back to the hotel so I could get dressed for the barbecue in Piedmont Park. I’ve been going to SCC for six years now, and this is the first time I’ve actually made it to this event. Had I known what they were serving, I wouldn’t have been in such a rush. I don’t care much for boiled shrimp. In fact I tend not to eat shellfish and crustaceans at all. Ah, well.

I’m sure that I missed out on a lot of socializing this year, because I chose to do this conference on the cheap. I bought the “seminars only” package, and so was not able to eat in the grand ballroom with everyone else. I didn’t think I’d miss it, but I did. On the other hand, I didn’t have to deal with my own particular dietary restrictions and I ate pretty well at the restaurants in the Colony Square mall attached to the hotel, and elsewhere. For a lot less money, I might add.

Wednesday night, I had dinner with Zelda and some of her accquainances. Our dinner companions were from Virginia. There were a lot of people from Virginia at this year’s conference. Zelda’s friend Andrea is a post-op TS, and it was fun talking to her about the differences between her life as a man and her current life as a woman. Truthfully, I thought she was a genetic girl when I first saw her, which I think pleased her no end. The picture she showed to me of her former self� looked like a completely different person. It was an incredible difference. I found myself talking to a LOT of TS’s this year, mainly because I’m leaning that way myself. The dinner conversation on Wednesday night soon devolved into who we all would “do,” candidates restricted to men. I’d do Rupert Wainright and Jude Law, myself, but there were many other worthy candidates offered up. Heh. Dinner ran long, and I had to hump it to get changed for the benefit photo-shoot offered by the fabulous Roxy Dunonde. I got there JUST before she started to take down her equipment. I can’t wait to see how the pictures come out. Better than the amateur shots taken throughout the week, I hope. We shall see.

To be continued.

Vanity, thy name is woman…

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I\’ll get around to a more thorough recap of my trip to SCC, but I\’m sure that the burning question is \”What did she wear?\”

edit: SUCCESS! I got my photo album to work! (can\’t see it? It\’s a friends only album. I\’m not shy or in the closet, but there are reasons…)

edit, part deux: Well, crap. The album isn\’t showing up. I\’ll figure a workaround later, I guess. Crap, crap, crap.

Vanity, thy name is woman…

src=\”http://dunyazad.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1127748218-hr-60.jpg\”

I\’ll get around to a more thorough recap of my trip to SCC, but I\’m sure that the burning question is \”What did she wear?\”

edit: SUCCESS! I got my photo album to work! (can\’t see it? It\’s a friends only album. I\’m not shy or in the closet, but there are reasons…)

edit, part deux: Well, crap. The album isn\’t showing up. I\’ll figure a workaround later, I guess. Crap, crap, crap.

Our Heroine Returns….

I’m back from Southern Comfort. I’ll post some sort of recap once I recover the feeling in my feet. Six days in high heels is hard goddamn work….

Christi\’s Movie Pick du Jour for September 19, 2005

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Seijun Suzuki\’s Story of a Prostitute (1965) is my favorite of the Suzuki films I\’ve seen and is the most atypical of his work. While Suzuki\’s principle reknown is based on his pop-art yakuza movies, this movie, made outside the mainstream of his studio work. This was made for a considerably smaller budget on sets left over from Kon Ichikawa\’s The Burmese Harp. Virtually alone of his work for Nikkatsu, this seems to be interested in something beyond the abstract images on the screen. The story follows a woman in Japanese occupied Manchuria. She is employed as a \”comfort\” woman, a woman whose job it is to satisfy the sexual urges of the troops. In pursuit of this, she winds up in a love triangle between a man she loves and a commander who loves her. At one point in the film, this dilemma is shown to be literally tearing her apart. The end result of the film is an indictment of the way Japan conducted itself during WWII and a condemnation of the way Japanese society uses women (it\’s closer to Naruse and Mizoguchi than it is to, say, Kobayashi\’s Human Condition films). Of course, Suzuki is still the same director who made Branded to Kill, and this film slips the stylistic leash early on to rampage into a striking abstraction. The film just plain looks good. But for a change, the gonzo camera work and lunatic shot compositions are at the service of a point rather than and end in themselves. The movie is compulsively watchable, but its subtler themes will follow the viewer around for days.

Christi\’s Movie Pick du Jour for September 19, 2005

src=\”http://dunyazad.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1127165203-hr-55.jpg\”

Seijun Suzuki\’s Story of a Prostitute (1965) is my favorite of the Suzuki films I\’ve seen and is the most atypical of his work. While Suzuki\’s principle reknown is based on his pop-art yakuza movies, this movie, made outside the mainstream of his studio work. This was made for a considerably smaller budget on sets left over from Kon Ichikawa\’s The Burmese Harp. Virtually alone of his work for Nikkatsu, this seems to be interested in something beyond the abstract images on the screen. The story follows a woman in Japanese occupied Manchuria. She is employed as a \”comfort\” woman, a woman whose job it is to satisfy the sexual urges of the troops. In pursuit of this, she winds up in a love triangle between a man she loves and a commander who loves her. At one point in the film, this dilemma is shown to be literally tearing her apart. The end result of the film is an indictment of the way Japan conducted itself during WWII and a condemnation of the way Japanese society uses women (it\’s closer to Naruse and Mizoguchi than it is to, say, Kobayashi\’s Human Condition films). Of course, Suzuki is still the same director who made Branded to Kill, and this film slips the stylistic leash early on to rampage into a striking abstraction. The film just plain looks good. But for a change, the gonzo camera work and lunatic shot compositions are at the service of a point rather than and end in themselves. The movie is compulsively watchable, but its subtler themes will follow the viewer around for days.

Wax On, Wax Off

Preparations for SCC part two: the body wax. Ouch, ouch, ouch!

Actually, it’s not all that bad. My experience with the laser last week put this into perspective. I had yet another technician this time (that makes  five since I started going to the salon where I have this done), who had yet another different procedure for waxing. After ripping all the hair out of my skin, and after applying the tea tree oil, she covered the area with a hot towel. Damned if that didn’t feel good. In any event, I got my back, chest,  abdomen, and eyebrows done. I’ll do my legs myself this weekend. I haven’t decided if I’m going to do my arms or not. I’m thinking of shaving those to cut down on the chicken skin caused by waxing.

My new aesthetician hadn’t seen The 40 Year Old Virgin yet, which is too bad. Much comedy banter could have ensued. Alas…

Christi\’s Movie Pick du Jour for September 15, 2005

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Much as I love Vincent Price\’s horror movies–and I DO love his horror movies–even I have to admit that his best performances are found in two movies well outside the horror genre. In His Kind of Woman (largely unavailable, though it shows on Turner Classic Movies from time to time), he upstages everyone involved, including Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell. And in today\’s movie, Champagne for Caesar (1950, directed by Richard Whorf), Price displays a considerable talent for comedy. Price plays the sponsor of a quiz show called \”Masquerade for Money\” who has one hell of a dilemma on his hands. Contestant Ronald Coleman is just too good for the bottom line. Unfortunately, Coleman is good for the ratings, which means Price gets to sell more soap. The situation is driving him crazy, and the slow burn of frustration that Price portrays is hilarious. The film itself is a gentle satire of the game show–more Ealing Comedies satire than Billy Wilder satire–that still holds up today. Coleman is good as the unemployed genius who bedevils Price, as is Celeste Holm as the femme fatale Price puts in his way. But the movie is worth seeing for Price. It\’s almost a shame that Price turned into America\’s favorite boogeyman, but them\’s the breaks, I guess. Would I trade a Price career in comedy for all the Poe movies? Maybe. Would I trade it for Theater of Blood or Witchfinder General? Not on your life.

In any event, the DVD of Champagne for Caesar leaves a lot to be desired, but don\’t let that put you off. It\’s a fun, fun movie.

Christi\’s Movie Pick du Jour for September 15, 2005

src=\”http://dunyazad.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1126797069-hr-51.jpg\”

Much as I love Vincent Price\’s horror movies–and I DO love his horror movies–even I have to admit that his best performances are found in two movies well outside the horror genre. In His Kind of Woman (largely unavailable, though it shows on Turner Classic Movies from time to time), he upstages everyone involved, including Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell. And in today\’s movie, Champagne for Caesar (1950, directed by Richard Whorf), Price displays a considerable talent for comedy. Price plays the sponsor of a quiz show called \”Masquerade for Money\” who has one hell of a dilemma on his hands. Contestant Ronald Coleman is just too good for the bottom line. Unfortunately, Coleman is good for the ratings, which means Price gets to sell more soap. The situation is driving him crazy, and the slow burn of frustration that Price portrays is hilarious. The film itself is a gentle satire of the game show–more Ealing Comedies satire than Billy Wilder satire–that still holds up today. Coleman is good as the unemployed genius who bedevils Price, as is Celeste Holm as the femme fatale Price puts in his way. But the movie is worth seeing for Price. It\’s almost a shame that Price turned into America\’s favorite boogeyman, but them\’s the breaks, I guess. Would I trade a Price career in comedy for all the Poe movies? Maybe. Would I trade it for Theater of Blood or Witchfinder General? Not on your life.

In any event, the DVD of Champagne for Caesar leaves a lot to be desired, but don\’t let that put you off. It\’s a fun, fun movie.

Christi\’s Movie Pick du Jour for September 13, 2005

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Of all of his horror movies, Vincent Price said Theatre of Blood (1973, directed by Douglas Hickox) was his favorite. It\’s not hard to see why. Price\’s career is enormously diverse, but by the end of his career, he was hopelessly typecast as a horror icon. I\’m sure he chafed at the boundaries of the genre. This film lets Price show his considerable Shakespearean chops–exaggerated, to be sure, but the talent is certainly there. And any actor would relish the premise of the film…but I\’m putting my horse before my cart to market, to quote Richard III.

Price plays Edward Lionheart, a Shakespearean actor of incredible ego who is snubbed by the London critics\’ circle. Wounded, he does what any normal actor would do in his place: he fakes his own death then begins bumping off his critics one by one in scenes \”inspired\” by Shakespeare. This isn\’t as outlandish as it seems–try reading Titus Andronicus sometime to see that The Bard provides plenty of fuel for ghastly murders. Price is aided in this pursuit by his equally deranged daughter (Diana Rigg), whose penchant for crossdressing is all of a piece with the film\’s premise.

Anyone who is even remotely familiar with the horror movies of the early 1970s will recognize this as a cash-in on Robert Fuest\’s Dr. Phibes movies, with their strange, \”themed\” deaths. But this movie trumps them and absolutely closes the book on them. Let\’s go back to Titus Andronicus for a second. That play gives us one of the more outlandish death scenes in all of movies here, in which Robert Morley is stuffed full of his own poodles. Really, how can any film hope to match that? It is to its credit that no one has even tried…

All in all, this is great fun if you have a taste for The Bard, for Price, or for the grand guignol. And if you have a taste for all three? Well so much the better. The opportunity to hear Price (over) acting as Lear, Shylock, and Iago is just too good to pass up.