Sherilyn is a San Francisco resident who performs and writes mostly about her life. Her gender identification figures prominently in her work, but her humor and grace are the hallmark of all her creative endeavors.

Meanwhile, the squid is a month old, my head is fine, and I dont mind how my roots look. These are good things.

Overall, the Stage was a success, and by Satan, it ran on time. Unfortunately, Kelly arrived too late to go on stage, and Alexis Miranda missed it altogether because her contingent in the Parade was towards the end. Ironic considering the mention she gets in the article about the Tranny Stage in Inside Pride, based on the interview I did back in May:

Sweet Transsexuals
LYNN BREEDLOVE HEADLINES A SUNDRY CREW OF TALENTED PERFORMERS ON THIS YEAR'S TRANNY STAGE.

Anyone familiar with Lynn Breedlove's previous incarnation as the lead singer of the all-dyke punk rock band Tribe 8 won't be surprised to know she's now a pretty funny guy. Tribe 8's signature wacky theatrics have translated pretty seamlessly into Breedlove's new stand-up act, "One Freak Show," which deals, as he puts it, with "being a no-op, or rather po'-op tranny. No-op is when you don't want to get the surgery; po'-op is when you don't have enough money to get it." In the new show, which Breedlove promises to excerpt on the Tranny Stage this year at Pride, dildos and chainsaws have given way to animal dolls and eggbeaters. But the artists' core interest in gender, money, and the disorienting power of laughter remains.

"What's exciting about comedy is that you can hear people laugh," says the forty-something wordsmith, who now divides his time between the City by the Bay and the City of Light, where he's working on the screenplay version of his novel Godspeed. "When you're rocking out and you've got a bunch of guitars and drums and bass, people can't hear it you're being funny. Or if they do get the lyrics, then you can't hear them."

According to organizer Sherilyn Connelly, there should be lots of this sort of fun and interactivity on the Tranny Stage, which celebrates its third anniversary this year. Connelly drew on her experience producing Wicked Messenger (which had long stints at El Rio and the Dark Room) to bring together for Pride an exciting mix of music, comedy and spoken word. Connelly is particularly happy to have booked the all-tranny, all-MTF rock band Lipstick Conspiracy; the drag-king burlesque troupe the Transformers; and Dyspecific, which she describes as an "out there, sort of rock, jazz, freak-out kind of band" headed by Sarah West.

Connelly is also looking forward to co-hosting with Alexis Miranda, a headlining drag performer from Divas in the Tenderloin. "In the tranny community, so often we're trying to put together our best, non-threatening face. Divas is considered a little on the seedy side, but I want to bring that scene in. It's not right that that part of the community gets represented only in the paper when a tranny hooked gets killed. I want to see them on stage, doing something positive. Not having a presence from Divas there would feel false to me."

"People like me," she sums up, "twenty years ago I never would have dreamed we'd have our own stage. We're still marginalized now. But the fact that we can be at an event like this--it's a pretty profound thing to me."

From the scenic corner of Turk and Larkin, The Tranny Stage brings you the best frackin' entertainment from across the gender spectrum and back! For our third birthday, the too-cool-for-school lineup includes (but is not limited) to The Mighty Slim Pickins, Kelly Michaels, Lynn Breedlove, The Transformers, Shawna Virago and the Deadly Nightshades, and Lipstick Conspiracy. All this plus snappy hosts--with karaoke!--and easy access to the Transgender Pavilion, the Tenderloin, and all points beyond. Join us!

The karaoke was in the form of Charlie Anders, who more than ably covered for Alexis's unfortunate absence. I'd suggested it to Charlie when I asked her to host, because I knew she wouldn't be able to resist. The other hosts were Susan Stryker, Julia Serano and myself (Carmen Morrison had to cancel); Ryka and Mr. Tuff 'N Stuff were last-minute additions to the lineup of performers, but closed out the show perfectly. There were unexpected moments and some chaos, and that was okay, what with the happy accident principle. It woulda been nice if certain of the performers had told the tall squidified schmuck in the kitty ears ostensibly running the Stage (hi! that's me) that they were going to be bringing other people onto the stage, but it all worked out. Best of all, nobody played to an empty street, in spite of how far away we were from the rest of the celebration. There was always a crowd, not necessarily a large one, but full of people enjoying themselves. To me, that's what it's all about. Though my first passion is writing, I have an entertainer streak in me a mile wide, and it's what made all the stress of the past months worth it, to see an audience (strangers, even!) being entertained. It's why I do the Queer Open Mic and especially Bad Movie Night, which is all about the stimulating the pleasure center of the brain.

Whether or not I'll do all this again next year, put myself through it again, is a question I'm nowhere near close to answering.

Afterwards, Vash and I had dinner with Sadie at Cafe Gratitude, and topped it off with ice cream from the Bi-Rite creamery. glorp!

An email I sent to my landlord earlier this morning:

Subject: extreme noise.

9am Saturday morning. I was already awake, but I could have just as easily been trying to sleep. I heard what sounded like an adult male roaring, and something VERY heavy being slammed against the floor four or five times, both above my bedroom and living room, followed by a child crying loudly. Thumping and crying occurs often, usually on a daily basis, but this was easily the worst yet. Doors slammed a few minutes later. Perdita will occasionally react to the noise when it's louder or more persistent than usual, lifting her head and her ears perking up, but this time her eys went wide and her ears arched back. Five minutes later, she was still spooked.

As was I. The noise always rattles my nerves--I like peace and quiet--but this time it was practically scary.

I don't care to speculate what's happening up there, but I thought you should know what it's sounding like.

Happy Pride, y'all.