sistawendy: me in my suffraget costume raising a finger in front of the Vogue (oh yeah)
Remember when I was freaking out about not being able to find Northwest Film Forum? It's on 12th Ave., not 11th, where I was and where Cafe Racer now is. Whew!

Fun fact: that block of 11th, the one between Pike & Pine, is where the Vogue was for over a decade. Way back in the day it's where fetish store Sin was; I still have a patent leather collar from there. Vermilion is there too. As I told the door person at Cafe Racer, where Barça used to be, it's as if that block actively resists attempts to make it too frat, too broey – even though the SPD's East Precinct Station is around the corner.
sistawendy: me in C18-inspired makeup looking amused (amused eighteenthcent)
The weekend didn't exactly start auspiciously: circumflatulation SNAFUs, and the Tickler's tummy acting up before, during, and after a lovely Chinese dinner at Tai Tung. (Mm, sauteed squid & pea vines.) But after a night of treating the Tickler with unusual delicacy, we hit the Nordic Heritage Museum for "Julefest".

You may remember that the Tickler is the Viking queen who attacks my castle. (Oh noes!) She has a Norwegian name, and she looks Nordic. She also has a side to her that I'd never seen until yesterday: she's charmingly bananas for things Scandihoovian. That's right, my burlesque-dancing super freak of a girlfriend has a mile-wide Norwegian grandma streak. She was keen to watch the accordion and nyckelharpa* music, this time complete with dancing in traditional dress.

A note about the museum itself: I used to live about a block from the old museum, which was in a former elementary school in a quiet corner of Seattle's Ballard neighborhood. That museum seemed a little, well, sad to me with its mismatched, amateurish signs and old exhibits. I know I wasn't alone in that opinion.

Well, not anymore. As of a few years ago, the NHM has a spiffy, purpose-built museum at the western edge of Ballard's commercial district, i.e. 26th & Market. And yes, it has to be in Ballard, because that's historically been Seattle's most Nordic neighborhood**. The Tickler misses how everything for Julefest was all together in the old museum's parking lot, but the indoor space was pretty neat. It looks much more like a professional operation now. They had a few very old early Viking artifacts on loan from the University of Uppsala, which was nifty.

The metalheads outnumbered the black people. I saw no obvious Nazis; says the Tickler, Nordic people, as fetish objects of the Nazis, have been vocally trying to dissociate themselves from them. I have never seen so many Nordic-looking people in one place.

Yes, we tried the æbleskivers: they're basically spheres of fried pancake batter served with powdered sugar and jam. Not bad! I told the older Danish ladies cooking them, with their special pans and skewers, that I'm mostly English and therefore behind enemy lines; their response was that the Vikings got everywhere. So everyone's Nordic? And, of course, I took a sip of the Tickler's aquavit. You could have caraway flavor, which tastes like you're drinking a sandwich, or anise flavor, which is basically ouzo.

So do I recommend that for everybody? Wayell, maybe once if you're like me. If you're the Tickler, you go every year and get a membership.



*The bastard child of a violin and an autoharp. It has keys, so the player doesn't have to finger the strings individually. It's held at the waist, not under the chin.
**As the older Scandihoovians have died, been put in homes, or been bought out, Ballard has been gentrified even more heavily than the city as a whole, which is saying something. Somehow, though, people still drive like zombies there.
sistawendy: me in the Mercury's alley with the wind catching my hair (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Believe it or not, I'd never been to a poetry slam until last night. It had been on my to-do list for ages. The Siberian Siren's girlfriend L does sound for the Rain City Poetry Slam on Wednesday nights at Scratch Deli on Capitol Hill in (Where else?) Seattle. It's run by dykes - duh - and it's all-ages.

Like Gaul, this slam is divided into three parts: open mike, "feature", and the competitive slam. I arrived from the Eastside just after the feature started. It was packed and quite warm in what was once a single-family house.

And you know what? For the most part, the poetry didn't suck. Sure, there was a lot of what you'd expect from younger, queer or queerish women, but the featured artist especially did quite a job.

I've already written one of my own for next time. Ph34r me.

Footnote: a butch friend of the SS runs a slam in the school she teaches in down in Federal Way*. The SS helps out; there are a lot of immigrant kids down there, including poor kids from Russia**. None of the grownups can be open about their sexuality in that environment, especially not in Federal Way, but that isn't the point. What's remarkable about this is a) an openly butch schoolteacher in Federal Way at all, and b) the Siberian Siren's public spirit.



*An unfashionable suburb on the other side of Sea-Tac airport from Seattle.
**When I think of immigrants from Russia, I think of people like the SS's Microsoftee father, I told her. He's not that representative, she says.

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sistawendy: a head shot of me smiling, taken in front of Canlis for a 2021 KUOW article (Default)
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