Bollocksy Nonsense: April 2012

Author’s note: In this piece there are two characters, Nixon and Reagan. They both consider themselves to be genderqueer. Because of this I will be using gender neutral pronouns: xe for he/she and xyr for his/her. A quick definition of genderqueer is a person who does not feel they are a man or a woman and therefore disregard heteronormativity. Wikipedia has a very simple, and for once accurate, definition of genderqueer if you would like more information. I also suggest the book Gender Outlaw by Kate Bornstein.

Pornography for all of us:

Nixon is interested in trying something new. Something they have wanted to do since their tumultuous middle grade years. Now almost ready for college, knowing things are about to change, Nixon wants to share this experience with the only one who has made xyr feel safe. Xe brings it up to Reagan one morning after their usual 10 minute snooze before getting out of bed. Scootching their body to face Reagan in the cramped twin bed, Nixon gently wakes Reagan with a singsong,
“Goooood Morrrnnningggg”
Reagan lets out a long groan and buries xyr head into the warm crevice between Nixon’s head, shoulder, and pillow.
“Hey bunny, I know this isn’t the moment where we are both at peak mental ability, but can we talk for a second?”
“Of course, what’s up sugar pup?” Reagan says talking into Nixon’s freckled neck flesh.
Nixon sits up, propping their face on their hand, compelling Reagan to roll onto xyr back. Xe looks into Reagan’s face, absorbing their messy morning hair, still crusty eyelids, and pink cheeks.
“I wanted to ask if there is anything that I do in bed that you really love,” Nixon chews on their lip. Reagan’s eyes open and focus on the painted glow in the dark swirls and stars above them. After a few moments of contemplation, Reagan turns their face to Nixon.
“I do really love it when you use just the tip of your tongue and trace circles on my neck or around my nipples or…” Reagan wiggles their eyebrows and uses a deep voice, “lower.” Nixon holds back her giggles with a grin. This is serious business.
“Well now that I know, I will make sure to do it more often,” Nixon leans in to kiss Reagan’s forehead but is met with puckered lips and morning breath. They fall into a lapse of consciousness from soft kisses, they turn into a buttery mess of lover’s morning hours.
A noxious angry buzzer shakes them both out of their daze.
“UGH I CAN HEAR THAT ALARM IN MY EYE BALLS!” Nixon groans and rolls over the side of the bed to lay a heavy flat palm on the alarm clock and end it’s screeching. Nixon stretches xyr arms and legs akimbo and lets out a long grunt. Reagan locks their eyes on the nape of Nixon’s neck.
“Was that really what you wanted to talk about? Because it ended up not being much of a conversation.” Nixon’s shoulders shake from laughter as xe falls backwards laying xyr head onto Reagan’s stomach.
““Well of course I want to know what I can do to make you feel good. But I was trying to use it as a slick way to bring up something I would like to try,” Nixon inhales deeply to calm xyrself, “I wanted to ask if you would be alright with acting out a fantasy I have; a sexual fantasy.”
Reagan sits up and looks straight into Nixon’s eyes and says,
“Tell me, and we can decide together where, when, and how. And make sure we are both ready, willing and able.”
A smile washes over Nixon’s whole body. Xe picks up Reagan’s hand and they lace their fingers tightly.
“Thank you.”

After slurping up their coffee and scramble both get ready for their respective daily lives. Reagan puts on xyr pseudo uniform for work: black skinny jeans and a white oxford. Xe slicks back xyr hair with a glop of sweet Nixon’s pomade. Xe drags a comb through xyr curls, trying to get them to lie in flat waves with just a hint of a pompadour in front. Reagan teases Nixon as xe puts on the same leggings and smock outfit xe has been wearing the last two days. Nixon responds, “comfort is key m’dear” xe then takes Reagan’s comb and runs it through xyr short hair to use up the excess. But the pomade is powerless against Nixon’s cowlick. They walk to the bus stop, holding hands, while Nixon holds xyr bike steady next to them. When they reach the end of the block the two lovers give and receive a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for listening to me.”
“Thank you for talking to me.”
The two touch foreheads and part ways reluctantly.

Nixon mounts xyr bike and pedals down the street. The day is October perfection. A light chill brushes past xyr cheeks giving them a just-pinched color, but a well-placed scarf keeps xyr nose from getting red and runny. Nixon is pleased xe decided to wear a thin wool sweater under xyr jean jacket. The extra layer keeps the core warm enough to not worry about the nighttime nippy air that is bound to come at dusk. Waking up at Reagan’s means a leisurely ride to school, Nixon does not strain xyr legs or worry about busting a kneecap, taking xyr time, breathing in the scent of crushed leaves and soaking up the last brilliant colors nature has to offer before winter’s grey comes.

Reagan presses play on xyr Walkman. Tapping xyr foot in time, letting xyr arms mock the drum rolls and cymbal crashes. Xe looks out the faintly tinted windows at the bundled up masses on the sidewalk. Some taking their time with hands thrust in their pockets, other hustling, running late spilling coffee and cursing. Reagan lets the tape roll from one song into the next, smiling to xyrself with the each new riff; thinking about the evening that surrounded the mixtape’s creation. It was Reagan’s apartment warming party. Aiden and Lucy came by to help set up and make food. Nixon comes as Lucy’s friend from The Studio, but Reagan recognizes xyr from school. Lucy and Nixon wore reclaimed 80’s prom dresses and are covered in glitter. To keep their frocks clean they change into some of Reagan’s tank tops and running shorts. They hung out in the kitchen dancing while Reagan sat on the floor dj-ing. The tape ends, prompting xyr to flip to side B. There is no lag; as soon as the play button is pushed a thunderous snare beats through the wires followed by a slick funk base line. Reagan closes her eyes and savors the momentary lapse into the past…

“When I see you baby!” Nixon grabbed a wooden spoon off the table and held it like a microphone to her mouth. Xe leaned against the doorway, “I wanna take off your clothes” and shimmied xyrself down the doorframe, “Just rip off your clothes. Just take off your clothes!” Reagan’s eyes widened and xe gulped instead of breathing. Xyr hands began to sweat and fidget with the buttons on xyr shirt. Aiden and Lucy started dancing behind Nixon like go-go dancers. “When I see you I want you to...” Nixon ran xyr hands over xyr chest, down xyr belly, grazing the elastic of xyr underwear, “Take of my clothes! Just rip off my clothes!” Xe jumped up and down shaking xyr head back and forth, “JUST TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES!!!” The group fell into a fit of giggles and middle school bumping and grinding.
“Nice moves Nix!” Aiden flopped down on the couch.
“Thanks hun,” Nixon wiggled xyrself back to the stove to flip the fake-steaks.
“I think that song is so good. Not only is it super sexy it talks about the importance of consent!” Lucy said assembling bruschetta.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think Morningwood was thinking about consent when they were writing it”
“Well, I still like when bands actually try to say something radical instead of singing about nothing. Also I love that the roles are reversed. She sings about her sexual desire while he wants to wait. For once the woman is seen as the driver, and the man as the breaks.” Nixon nodded in agreement,
“Yeah, fuck gender norms in general. There are all these double standards involved with male/female. It’s one of the reasons I am gender neutral, I’d rather be the driver and the breaks, than one or the other.”
Aiden looked over at Reagan with his mouth posed to continue the conversation but stopped when seeing Reagan still transfixed on the doorframe. Aiden waved his hand in front of Reagan’s face.
“Any body in there?” Reagan smacked Aiden’s hand away and moved their eyes to the floor. “Sooooo! You like Nixon?” Aiden wiggled his eyebrows and jerked his thumb to the kitchen. Reagan scowled and switched the CDs.
“What do you think?” Reagan said quietly, xe pushed play and Bikini Kill stomped out of the stereo.
That girl thinks she's the queen of the neighborhood
She's got the hottest trike in town
That girl she holds her head up so high
I think I want to be her best friend, yeah!
“You should ask xyr out!” Aiden lightly punched Reagan’s shoulder, “You are super cute and totally xyr type. Xe isn’t some fashion queer, xe has really some real serious dogma behind xyr life.”
“I don’t think xe thinks much of me. I’m not as… you know…” Reagan looked over xyr shoulder into the kitchen at Nixon and Lucy jumping and head banging to the music. Nixon’s body shook, mimicing the furiousness of the screeching guitars, xe stomped xyr foot in time with the pounding snare. Xe screamed along with Kathleen Hannah,
Rebel girl rebel girl
Rebel girl you are the queen of my world
Rebel girl rebel girl
I think I want to take you home
I want to try on your clothes
“I’m not as outspoken or as rowdy as xe is. Xe is so radical and active. They probably think I am a coward or something cus’ I never tell people off. Like- when xe got expelled for fighting those kids who were harassing xyr? Xe went to the school board and fought to get allowed back into school. I didn’t do shit when they threw me out of school after my surgery.”
“Who cares! You don’t have to be screaming at the front lines to be truly radical. You just gotta love and live the way you know is right! Nixon knows that. What xe did was super brave and took a lot of guts to be willing to step into the line of fire. And look you’ve both got something in common! You both got thrown out of school!”
When she talks, I hear the revolution
In her hips, there’s revolutions
When she walks, the revolution’s coming
In her kiss, I taste the revolution!
↔
Nixon coasts down the last stretch of road before the sharp turn into the Studio’s private entrance. Xe locks their bike up and skips up the steps. Xe flashes xyr badge at the guard absorbed in his paper. He folds the top of the paper down and gives Nixon a hard stare as xe rounds the corners to the elevators.
“Damn queers.”
At the 8th floor the doors open to the Studio. A few dancers are on the barre stretching while the piano player and Madame Rossetana argue by the window. Nixon gives a quick wave to Lucy, who is working her turn out, before heading to change in the dressing rooms.
This is the part that Nixon dreads, but over time has come to terms with. Xe pushes open the door marked: Women’s Dressing Room and heads straight to the toilet stall. The privacy is all too welcome. Xe re-positions the binder on their chest and struggles to slip into the spandex tank top style one piece the Madame allows xyr to wear. This routine reminds Nixon of how lucky xe is. While gender neutral but female-bodied Nixon has it much easier than Reagan, in the “normative assimilation” that society has placed before them.
↔
Reagan exits the bus and walks two quick blocks to the back entrance of the restaurant. The door swings open before xe can even reach the handle.
“Goddamn mother fucking pieces of trash!”
“Nice to see you too, Bill.”
Bill whips his head around, “Aww sorry Reagan I didn’t see you there. I wasn’t cursing at you,” he strikes a match and lights up the cigarette clenched between his lips.
“What happened?”
“Some stupid mother fuckers come here and don’t tip after I gotta bow and scrape up their goddamn mess. It’s fucking bull shit I tell you.” Bill speaks with smoke curling around his words accentuating every curse word with a jab in the air with his cigarette. Reagan pats him on the back,
“The world is full of shit heads, Bill, and they all come here to eat.”
The two share a laugh and head back into the kitchen.

“Hello, my name is Reagan I will be your server today. Let me tell you about our breakfast specials, this morning we are featuring -- ” Reagan rattles off that morning’s waffle special, telling them about the complimentary glass of fresh squeezed orange juice they’ll get and trying to ignore the couple’s eyes darting back and forth, looking xyr over from head to toe, tapping their fingers and raising their eyebrows. “So what can I get you folks?”
“Uh- I think we are going to need a minute.”
“Alright, I’ll come back to check on you in a few minutes.” Reagan walks back to the service window where Bill is picking up an order.
“If these people ask me if I am a waiter or a waitress I might scalp them.”
Bill belts out a laugh, “I wouldn’t judge you for it honey.” Reagan checks her watch, after 5 minutes xe walks back to the table with xyr pen poised for an order.
“You two decided?”
“Yeah, I’ll have the…”
Reagan breathes a sigh of relief. It doesn’t mean the day won’t have its problems, but it is nice to start the day with out having to defend yourself.
↔

“This is my last table. I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Hopefully it will be a small order.”
“Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it and I’ll be here all night!” Reagan walks over to the couple that has been put in xyr section. They are older, xe guesses in their 60’s, an age with little understanding. “Hello there, my name is Reagan, and I will be your server this evening.” The couple has yet to look up from their menus as Reagan rattles off the lunch specials. Pasta primavera with garlic knots, hand tosses pizza with artichoke hearts and –
“I’ll have the steak and the lady will have the chicken,” he cuts her off with his curt reply.
“Okay, what sides would you like?” Reagan turns her head to the lady, who remains mute as her mister replies,
“I will have mashed potatoes and she will have a baked potato.”
“Alright sir- I will get that for you now,” Reagan jots down the order and turns on xyr heels to the kitchen. Xe knows that it is technically a gentlemanly thing to do, order for the lady, but coming out of his mouth it sounded so venomous.
When their order is up Reagan sets down each plate with a smile.
“Enjoy! And let me know if you need anything okay?” The woman gives Reagan a smile and a soundless thank you. As xe turns around xe can hear him say,
“Couldn’t they give us a normal server? Marie we better pray over this. Make sure God will clean us from that faggots filth.”
Reagan freezes. Xe fists are clenched, ready to slam his face into his steak. Bill sees Reagan’s defenses go up around xyr and rushes over.
“Hey, HEY! Reagan breathe. Come on hunny lets go out back for some air. We can get someone else to handle them.” Bill takes xyr by the shoulders and coaxes xyr out the back door.
↔

“Honey I’m home!” Nixon throws xyr backpack down on the couch and ventures to find Reagan. Xe enters the bedroom finding Reagan sitting on the edge cracking xyr knuckles. Nixon jumps on the bed and hugs Reagan from behind, wrapping xyr arms around xyr neck planting a kiss on xyr neck. Reagan’s body remains stiff. “Honey bear?”
“I am so sick and tired of everyone’s ignorance.”
“What happened?” Nixon slides to be side by side with Reagan.
“Same shit, different old white guy.” Reagan tilts xyr head upwards to keep the dam from breaking, “I just don’t understand how people can be so casual with their cruelty. These people just acted like I was invisible. Barely waited until I was out of earshot to call me a faggot. I understand that they come from a time where our lifestyle was not out in the open and was not accepted and that is why their behavior is often rude- because they are uneducated about these things. But-“ xyr voice cracks and tears spill out, “but can’t they keep that shit to themselves? Why do I have to hear their ignorance? Especially when I am at work!” Reagan mocks a smile and mimes holding xyr pen and order pad, “Hello I am hear to serve you and take your bullshit!” Xyr chin drops into xyr chest, xyr shoulders shaking with hard sobs. Nixon curls her arm around Reagan and pulls xyr head into xyr chest. Xe strokes Reagan’s floppy dark curls, using xyr sharp nails to scratch in circles behind xyr ear, how xe likes. Minutes pass in silence as Reagan’s cries quiet. Xe sits up and lifts xyr head to look into Nixon’s eyes.
“Don’t they know that I am human like them? That I hurt just like them?”
“You’re not like them Reagan,” Nixon grabs Reagan by the shoulders and straightens xyr up and softly kisses the salty wet skin under Reagan’s eyes, “You are so much better than them.”

After a quick cuddle the couple gets up to make their night meal. They decide on breakfast for dinner, because nothing is more comforting then tea and fakey eggys proclaims Nixon. Peeled away from the warm sheets Reagan goes to put the kettle on and heat up the pans. Nixon takes a moment to stand in front of the mirror straightening xyr back and letting xyr arms mimicking the gentle curve of bird’s wings. Xe begins to practice the first steps of the women’s piece. Holding xyr arms above xyr lifting xyrself on relevé extending one long straight leg in front curving xyr back and arms to xyr toes pulling xyr leg into xyr chest, then bursting forth to lift xyr other leg straight behind with arms thrust upwards and fingers flayed. Xe stops to catch a glimpse of xyrself in the mirror. Standing with feet planted firmly, xyr hard, expressionless face stares back. Xe cannot even read xyrself. The smell of turmeric and curry powder floats through the air in spicy swirls. Carried by the sizzling and crackling of tofu in the cast iron pan. Like tentacles they wrap around Nixon growling stomach and pulls xyr away from xyrself into the kitchen. Nixon sauté arabesques down the hall, xe jumps long with xyr arms and legs extended letting the morning flow through xyr. Xe lands softly behind Reagan.
“I love when you leap. It is this beautiful mixture of beauty and strength. You can see all your muscles working and the way your skin gets taught, it’s just gorgeous,” Reagan shimmies xyr shoulders as if xe is getting the shivers. Nixon smirks and performs a series of fouetté en tournant’s, bending shallow at the knee and whipping xyr leg quick in the air to rotate the body rising in relevé. Xe stops and glissades to the cupboards to take the plates and cups down.
“You show off,” Reagan stirs the scramble mixing in finely chopped garlic and handfuls of shredded zucchini. The toaster dings, Reagan slides the slices of peasant bread onto the wooden serving board, “can you set this down darling?”
“Yessm,” Nixon twirls to the table setting down the serving board with grace. Xe tiptoes with xyr fingers touching and arms curved above xyr head towards the fridge, using excessive flourishes to get out the soy spread. Reagan rolls xyr eyes and puts a heaping spoonful of scramble onto each plate. Giving Nixon a taste of xyr own medicine, Reagan does a few made up steps with extra ridiculous flourishes to place the plates on the table. Nixon holds back a laugh, letting Reagan attempt a grand plie. Xe throws her arms around Reagan’s waist and raises xyr hands above their heads slowly turning in circles. Their faces are full of laughter but their bodies intertwined are genuine. Nixon spins Reagan out and bows kissing xyr hand.
“Thank you, for this dance m’dear.”

Sitting at the table the two tuck in to their meal. While their right hands fork food into their mouths their left hands are clasped with the others, using their fingertips to caress the smooth backs of their hands.
“I am so sorry you had a rough day sweetie.”
“We all have rough days.”
“Yeah, mine wasn’t so perfect either.”
“What happened?” Reagan takes a swig of soymilk straight from the carton on the table.
“Rossetana is making me decide what part to have in the recital this year. There are male and female roles. I asked her to just put me wherever, but she says I have to decide. It is really bullshit.”
“That is really unfair.”
“I know- she has been really understanding though. This is the first time it seems to be an issue for her.”
“I don’t understand it. Everyone is so focused on putting us in our place. Keeping us within their lines. We make them uncomfortable because we are not something they can calculate and compute.”
“I know.” Nixon’s voice is low. Xe pushes xyr scramble around on xyr plate. Reagan can read Nixon like a book, and quickly changes the topic.”
“You know what I know?”
“What?”
“I know that I love you.” Nixon smiles but keeps xyr head down. Reagan takes another gulp of soymilk. “I also know what an amazing person you are. How you are strong and sexy, and smart, and sweet!” Nixon looks up at Reagan with wet eyes.
↔
Night comes and finds Nixon and Reagan in bed. Nixon knits while Reagan scans a copy of Maximum Rock and Roll. Reagan’s lullaby tape spins in the stereo, the soothing strings of 6x16 cello wanders through the room. They sit in a comfortable silence, while both are involved their separate activities, they are conscious of the other’s presence.
Nixon inhales sharply.
“You drop a stitch?”
“Yes” Nixon makes an exaggerated frown and an excessively sighs. Xe opens the bedside table and puts away xyr project. Rolling over xe throws xyrself on top of Reagan.
“Well hello.”
“Helllooooo loooovvverrrrr!!!!”
Reagan puts xyr magazine down and takes Nixon’s face in xyr hands. Reagan smushes Nixon’s cheeks to produce puckered lips and plants a kiss. Nixon curls up into the curve of Reagan’s body, letting xyr head rest on Reagan’s shoulder. Xe runs xyr fingers over the raised scars on Reagan’s forearms trying to find the right words. Xyr fingers skip across Reagan’s collarbone and glide down xyr sternum. Nixon looks up, “Is this okay?” Reagan nods. Xe lets her fingers slide down further to trace the knotted scar tissue of Reagan’s chest incision scars. Reagan closes xyr eyes and lets xyrself float away,
“You are the only person I can stand touching them. Your hands feel so healing.” Nixon smiles but bites xyr lips,
“I could map your body from memory.” Reagan laughs making Nixon’s hand and mind jump back to reality.
“We have talked about consent and limits before, but I just want to make sure your comfortable. I don’t want you to be doing this just cuz’ I want it, you know?”
Reagan plants a kiss on the top of Nixon’s head, breathing in the comforting scent of xyr scalp. Nixon’s head always smells like the pomade they use, a spicy clove and orange scent with a hint of dirt after rain.
“I know. When ever we start doing something intimate I am so comfortable knowing that you understand me, what I need and more importantly, what I want!” Reagan wraps xyr arms around Nixon’s waist and plants a wet kiss on xyr cheek, “I am so thankful for you.” Nixon melts into Reagan. Their skin fuses together from the heat of their bodies tangled in the bed sheets. Reagan rests xyr head in the niche of Nixon’s neck as if it was meant for xyr alone. Nixon kisses Reagan’s fingertips and places xyr flat palm over xyr heart. They soak up the other’s rhythms, breathing and beating in time.

Bollocksy Nonsense

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Here here

Gutter Foxes

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Pornography for all of us

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

So this happened

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Sycamore

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Nerves