I feel like to some degree every year is the best of times and the worst of times. Life is a wild ride, a dizzy dragon overload, a monumental hill covered in ice and we decided to wear the fuck me pumps today. We wake up tomorrow covered in confetti and empty champagne bottles unchanged but all believing that we are going to use those gym memberships this year and see the world a little clearer.

When you realize that love is more fruitful than money and there is more to life than just stuff and things you will be a lot happier. I am an imperfect work in progress, human in all the ways I know how.

This is the first year in memory that I knew who I was going to kiss hours before midnight. It was beautiful despite the fact that I literally purged 2017 into my toilet. The gamble you take when eating magic mushrooms. I spent the majority of my party listening to the beautiful revelry shitting myself and puking in the upstairs bathroom, but don’t feel sorry for me just yet!

A few days before- on my 31st birthday I dyed my hair rainbow, I was about to go to my favorite restaurant Amy’s Place with my parents and my partner to get a vegan feast! BBQ seitan is life.

I received eco friendly glitter and a giant rainbow strap-on as gifts that morning from the most beautiful girl in the world, cuddled with my kitties and loves in the bed hole all day listening to tunes and smoking bongs. I had a show that night and the day off. Life was absolutely perfect on that cold blustery December day in Buffalo.

Then it drastically changed. I found out my best friend’s house burned down and she had an hour to grab what they could before the roof collapsed. A warm home full of love gone with a furious roar. She came home to the fireman throwing her Christmas tree out the window. There is a gofundme set up for them to help navigate this loss.

Some things are more important than birthdays and bullshit. This is my third friend that has experienced total loss due to a house fire in a year. Thankfully nobody was hurt, their beautiful kitty was saved and the turtle survived.

Marla is a beast. Only stuff was lost. Zaz says that her bf keeps telling her that She is His Home and it fills her up. They were at my party on New Year’s Eve with another couple that had had a recent fire. Everyone was playing music, tears and smiles flowed so strong. We can overcome flames (I mean hopefully right, since Trump is about to put us into a nuclear holocaust).

There is nothing that can defeat us. I get so upset sometimes over the most trivial bullshit. I can’t let it drag me down. I know so many people who have been dealt cards unimaginable to me and they keep their head up high despite the challenges. Life is short and fragile, we need to love harder and be there for each other.

This new year new me wave feels super good, right?  Yes, I do want to start doing yoga and painting everyday, writing more poetry and making my shows next level, spreading Food Not Bombs love and vegan treats for all. I also want to get lost with my lover in the woods and spend the whole day in bed with the cats.

I want to drive to St Louis then Denver and Austin and New Orleans for Mardi Gras and Nashville along the way home. I want to go where the wind takes me and love stronger than ever before.

I know that it’s all about lifting up and inspiring others. It’s about the journey, the adventure, the cuddles, the compliments, genuine time spent and tears shed. It is about being human and humane.

I lost my childhood best friend to bigotry and my sanity to politics. If it wasn’t burned up or flushed down this year, it’s worth saving.

Oh Yea, and The Buffalo Bills are in the playoffs. I think my friend the streaker was a good luck charm. The drought is over. 2018, this is our year!

Lemmy Kilmister’s Death Was Announced on my Birthday.

I always loved the way Lemmy just did not give a fuck. He lived his life on his own terms, was fully responsible for his actions, and was finally killed by death. He was a deviant dirtbag other worldly swamp creature who knew how to growl, masterfully.

Why should he care what anyone thought of him? Why should I?! He lived to be 70 years old, that’s like 200 in rockstar years. Most people who live and party at his level don’t make it past 26. He was a dirty dog that partied the hardest, pickled liver, coal tar lungs, full of all the wrong substances, except for rock and roll. He has fucked over 1000 women.

Diabetes, cigarettes, alcohol and speed. The cancerous tumors in his brain and neck were the nail in the coffin. He died two days after being diagnosed, four days after his 70th birthday. His friends joked that he would outlive us all, only the good die young, and so on.

He was all about that bass, an explosive personality, a beast of a man, a next level human, I wish I could have partied with him. Run my fingers through his black wiry mutton chops, mustache and mountainous power moles.

cat as lemmyMotörhead music is a war cry. Lemmy sang like he had rocks in his throat. It is about fucking women and getting wasted, fast, loud, a grimy version of punk and metal, it is powerful shit.

I heard the news of his death while I was at my drag/karaoke/taco birthday party. My wine drunk mother just got done lecturing me on how I am not leading a good “christian” lifestyle and handed me a bag of pink daisy razorblades and deodorant. I shoved a taco down my gullet, strapped on my mustache and mullet, painted on a 6’oclock shadow, and partied on. I drank so much whiskey and sang so hard that night. A friend of mine did a great rendition of Ace of Spades.

Lemmy was not a typically “beautiful” man, but neither am I. Just like a John Waters character, Lemmy personified trashy lush wonderfulness. He was a perfect kind of filth, often on the “ugliest celebrities” tabloid lists.

People like him make me feel better about my flaws because we are ALL flawed. He looked great in cut off jean shorts, a ragged band shirt, bolo tie, shades, bullett belt, and crossbones cowboy hat, though. Nobody can deny that.

I had to pay tribute to him in my most recent burlesque show. The best part is that I already owned the whole costume. I jumped on the bar and tore layers of grimy costume off of me to The Ace of Spades.

The denim shorts were riding up my vagina. The long black wig itched, the pubey looking fake chest hair was falling off in clumps, my chops and stache were smudged, my rhinestone moles were still on, I smelled like yesterday, my hangover was strong. It was the right way to do it. Chugging beers and shooting Jack Daniels all night with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth.

I regret nothing. Except the fact that I glued the moles on the wrong side of my face, and I was called out on it INSTANTLY. I was impressed. Well, my name is Hemmy, Lemmy’s lesbian cousin.

It was an incredible show, all of my friends did crazy performances in my honor. We were celebrating my birth and the life of a legend in the same night. To celebrate birth and death simultaneously is interesting.

I think about life and death often because it is something we all have to do, it is certain. Who would come to my funeral I wonder? Do I make as much of an impact as I think? Will people think that I was an asshole or remember me fondly?

I want to drink that bottle of whiskey and eat the greasy steak sandwich, stay up all night dancing and screaming, loving, living, not regretting a moment. We may live till 70, or 100 even, but we might also die today of a brain tumor or a gun shot or a car accident or even drown in our own fucking cereal bowl. You never know. We are all lucky to have gotten this far. Each year on my birthday I really step back and think about how far I have come and what I need to do to keep evolving.

I often abuse my body with alcohol and drugs, bacon over veggies, party time excellent over eight hours of sleep. I’ve never enjoyed the gym. I once went to a gym where the women’s fitness room was facing a McDonalds. Running toward the high calorie shitty food that will eventually be my slow cholesterol filled demise. Lovely.

lemmy 2I know so many people, myself included, that pay for gym memberships and don’t even use them. Jump on the yearly fad of this year, I will be different. Wishful thinking that they will become healthier versions of themselves. Less fat, soft, and shitty.

My mom’s ass hangs out of her jeans, rolling over the top like a perfect little muffin. I’ve worked in a plus size store where women had unrealistic visions of what they looked like in their clothes. I have always felt fantastic and proud in my body, the only time I felt moments of self consciousness were when someone else mocked me or told me how I looked was abject or wrong. Fuck those people, they are jealous of the way I look, I am just myself, just like Lemmy was unapolagetically himself.

YOLO. Another year has passed. “Maybe this will be MY year,” magically all the shit that went awry the year before will be wiped away. I am now 29 years old, 2016 is my last year before turning 30, it’s like a power hour, and I have still never had a New Year’s midnight kiss. Not that passionate one that people write about, daydream about, make movie moments about.

So I wonder if the new me I want to be is just more assertive version of what I am now. Less pathetic longing and more doing, grab the face I want and kiss it, embrace the lips I yearn for, or move on and find a new driving force of lust. This year I want to take charge of what I want. My happiness is up to me. My art and success are up to me. I have no control of others, I should not become consumed by selfish notions of true love and that be all end all kind of life affirming passion.

I need to open my eyes and have new years REVELATIONS not resolutions: I need to be more dramatic, make it count, be more like Lemmy. I am going to find myself by traveling and making art because I must. I am going to own my desire. This is a year of sexual awakening.

I am sick and tired of unrequited love and being held down by gender normatives and societal standards. I want to open up my lifestyle and try things outside of my comfort zone.

My life is nowhere near perfect, it is a constant work in progress. I want to take advice from those who are already doing it, and those who have already left their mark on this world and have left us. The art you make will never die, even when your body rots.

“Death is an inevitability, isn’t it? You become more aware of that when you get to my age. I don’t worry about it. I’m ready for it. When I go, I want to go doing what I do best. If I died tomorrow, I couldn’t complain. It’s been good.”
– Ian ‘Lemmy’ Kilmister (1945-2015)

Well, it’s that time again. Time to say farewell to all the failures of the old year and greet the promise of the new one with verve and gusto. To look back one year and reflect upon the resolutions we didn’t manage to achieve, and set forth into the next year with the drive to do better this time around.

I’ll admit it, I didn’t do too well with my promises for 2013. Maybe they were too ambitious. Maybe this year I should set my goals a little more realistically.

For example, one of my resolutions last year was to join a gym and go to it regularly. Well, I achieved half of that one. Joining the gym was easy. But who has time to go to they gym on a consistent basis? I sure don’t. I’m a busy man. I have a job and a social life and a lot of my time is devoted to keeping the forest around my village free of prowling wolves and imps.

I think it’s too easy to fall again and again into the stock resolutions like “lose weight,” or “quit smoking,” or “drink less potions.” You’re never going to be successful at bettering yourself unless you take a real, honest look at your own personal situation before you commit to anything.

I mean, it’s totally impractical for me to try to quit smoking right now. I’ve still got this jade spectre possessing my lungs; if I stopped smoking a hash of sycamore root and oleander, by this time next year my New Year’s resolution would be to not be a reanimated scion of the Dark Gnome Emperor, Gord.

It’s also important to prioritize your goals. If you overwhelm yourself by trying to conquer all of them at once, you’re bound to fail. Rather, take each one at a time and focus on the most crucial ones first. Everything falls apart if you don’t have a firm plan of action.

For example, I know I must defeat the terrible sorcerer Jeremy to free my father from the grip of his spell of Draining. But I can’t defeat Jeremy without first having my sword tempered with the mighty ore of Magmar, which I must obtain from the belly of the great fire-breathing salamander, James, who lives in the depths of the Cave of Woe. And to even get in to that cave, I need the Key of Sorrow, and getting a hold of that is another quest entirely.

So you see, it would be ridiculous and imprudent of me to just traipse into the terrible sorcerer Jeremy’s lair and try to slay him with a regular sword. It’s all about prioritizing. Like, don’t you think I want rescuing my beautiful Elfin bride, Stacy, from the clutches of Ted, Warrior King of the Mountains, to be at the top of my list?

But there’s, like, a thousand little side-resolutions I have to take care of before I even get access to the airship that will take me to the continent that Ted’s Skull Fortress is on. And even then I have to first defeat his Ravenous Hordes.

Anyway, my point is, don’t over-extend yourself. Most New Year’s resolutions fail within the first few months, because people try too hard to make them all happen at once. You’ve got a whole year to make sure you do this right. Don’t try to rush things and end up like so many other wayward travelers, wandering for eternity in the misty Swamps of Displaced Souls.

You have it in you to achieve whatever lofty goals you seek and conquer whatever twists and trials your adventure throws your way this year. The first goblin you slay on January 1st may not seem like much at the time, but when you’re heaving that final decimating sword slash upon the Undead Lord of Chaos next year at this time, freeing your land and people from centuries of darkness, you’ll look back on that runty little thing and realize that slipping your dagger between his gnarled ribs was the first step on a much larger journey.

Happy New Year, Hero. Your quest begins now. Please enter your name and press start.


Photo by arbyreed via Flickr