Month: February 2022

My First Drag Pageant

Pinball McQueen Leave a comment

This past weekend I had the pleasure of competing in Basement Arts’ first-ever drag pageant (in recent years), Lady Walgreen 2022. As someone who considers themselves a “look queen” and a bedroom queen (ie, someone who focuses on my makeup and looks and generally creates my drag in my bedroom without showing it to many other people or going out in it), this was actually my first time going out and performing in drag. And it was the best experience I could’ve ever asked for. Quite literally, I’ve never seen an audience as packed or as excited as I did in the Newman Studio last Saturday night.

The pageant had three parts: fashion, interview, and talent. For fashion, we got scored by a panel of judges (aka other students who are drag aficionados or style icons). As a look queen known for outlandish makeup, this was the category I was focused the most on. My look was a demon-like creature who had all my skin removed from my face and sections of my body, a ribcage peeking out on my chest, and muscles exposed all across my face and body. This has been some of the most extravagant and ambitious makeup I have ever done, and I couldn’t be prouder of what I ended up creating. 

 

The makeup was all done by me, mainly using eyeliners, face paint, and a ton of powder and patience. The ribcage is made out of cardboard I stole from a housemate and covered in duct tape, and the hair is similarly held up by a cardboard frame for the horns. The skirt is a long, ugly thrifted skirt I found, cut up, and stained with fake blood just hours before. Who said you can’t create stunning drag on a budget?

A lot of my drag is freaky, alien, and just a tad bit insane, and this look was no different. And the audience loved it, from the cheering I got the moment I stepped out. Not to brag, but I was the only queen to get a perfect score of tens across the board for my look, which honestly was the biggest win in my book. Listen, I’m a look queen through and through and to be validated on my effort in my looks is the most amazing thing for me.

Next came the interview, which might have been the most chaotic part of the night. I’d like to first apologize to the couch, which has incurred a large red mark from when I decided to man-spread across it during my interview. Rip to that couch (and the one section of my body I didn’t set with powder well enough).

The final part was the talent portion, which included performances of incredible dance numbers, live singing, a spoken-word version of “I’m Sexy And I Know It”, and for me, a pair of rollerblades and licking blood off the floor of the Newman. I may not be the best dancer, but I did create a memorable performance of falling flat on my face, spilling blood all across the floor, and then getting up to lick all the blood off my fingers and garner the most wonderfully disgusting responses from the audience as Kim Petras played. Honestly, what more could I ask for of my first live performance?

While I didn’t make top two (congrats to ElleXL, our Lady Walgreen winner, and Tampa, the runner-up), I don’t think I’ve ever cheered louder during a lip-sync than I did for those two going CRAZY to “I Will Survive”. Seriously, you’ve never seen a performance like theirs. Plus, who cares about winning? I not only got to show off my art to a huge audience of my friends and classmates, I also made some of the most wonderful friends. There’s truly something so joyful about a room of queer folks all half in drag, taking shots and helping each other out. When I couldn’t find my eyelash glue, Tampa offered me hers. I did Mrs. Worldwide’s makeup since it was her first time in drag, and Olympia offered me hairspray to keep my wig down. There could not have been a more different group of performers up there on that stage, but each and every one was incredible and it was such an incredible honor to see them all perform. Shout out to the UMich drag scene and shout out to everyone who came out to the Newman last weekend! And to Basement Arts for hosting!

TOLAROIDS: Taking a stand

akilian Leave a comment

 “The only weapon that we have in our hands this evening is the weapon of protest. That’s all.”

– Martin Luther King

 

A collection of moments when citizens decided to stand up for their rights, beliefs, and freedoms. No matter the cause, the place in the world, whether it was a hundred people or a thousand: This is a step forward for a better future, a vocalization of our concerns, it is a human right, one through which we can communicate our needs and through which we can solidarize with others. And this is an important thing to remember in times like this.

 

 

#StandWithUkraine

Weird and Wonderful: “Tomie”

Harper Klotz Leave a comment

If you’re a fan of manga, there’s no doubt you’ve heard the name Junji Ito. The master of horror has produced some of the most hair-raising works – literally – in comic history, but it all began with the story of one beautiful teenage girl, Tomie.

Tomie panel

Tomie is a manga series revolving around the mysterious, unkillable titular girl. Tomie is a master of deception and getting what she wants, the attention of men. However, every man that falls in love with her develops an insatiable urge to kill her in the most brutal ways imaginable. No matter how many men kill her, and how many wounds she gets, she always comes back with a vengeance – and often an army of clones.

 

This was the story that helped Ito break into the manga industry, and for good reason. Horror books and comics are generally harder to nail than films or television shows, but once I opened Tomie I couldn’t stop until it was done.

 

Tomie perfectly balances psychological and body horror, sprinkling in gore and dread in equal measure. Each story slowly builds, leaving hints along the way for the ultimate reveal. Pages upon pages of a lake where corpses disappear was terrifying alone, but when the creatures hiding in that lake turned out to be even scarier I realized that all 752 pages of this story would be relentless. Just when I thought there would be some sort of relief, Junji Ito showed me a display of death I never could have dreamed up in my worst nightmares.  

The scariest thing about Tomie is not the fact that she asexually reproduces evil copies, or that she drives men crazy enough to hack her skull into pieces. The most horrifying thing about this girl is the fact that no matter how hard you try, you will never kill her. Just like other iconic horror villains, like Michael Myers or Freddie Krueger, Tomie is a stand-in for the fears that we cannot tame. She is as essential to the world as the concept of fear, and as such her reign of terror is unstoppable even to the very last manga panel. 

 

Also like other villains, Tomie has a fatal fear of her own. Like many women, Tomie dreads losing her beauty and youth. Although it seems at first that Tomie’s stories are loosely connected, by the end of her saga it’s clear that she is as much prey as she is predator. The connection, lingering in the background of melting flesh and freshly-grown heads, is that Tomie’s power stems from her vanity. Many of the questions I had about her nature can be solved by keeping this in mind. Why can there only be one supreme Tomie? Why can’t she age? Why is she impossible to capture, both figuratively through art and literally? It’s indisputable that Tomie is evil, but this flaw expertly humanizes her at turning points in the overarching narrative. I even found myself feeling bad for her in flashbacks of bullying and implied abuse, but watching her use these as fuel for torturing innocent people pushed me right back over the edge into hatred.

Ito’s first tale of terror is often cited as one of the greatest manga of all time, and it’s still getting attention decades after its release. Despite a lack of successful adaptations, Tomie remains perhaps more relevant than ever. In a world where we carefully count Instagram likes and study the best ways to Photoshop our bodies, the endless life of Tomie serves as a warning. Who are we without our image? The answer may be lurking in the basement of your local hospital, around the corner from your home, or even enveloped in the darkness of your closet.

The Rise of the Band Geeks, Episode 18: Whoever Stole My Tater Tots is Going to be Very Annoyed After I Steal Them Back

Alias Leave a comment

Hal gaped at his cymbal bag, trying to process the horror he was beholding.  The bag was lying on the salt-strewn bag of the drum room, its gaping maw ferociously ripped open and its contents spilling from its interior.  His sheet music, sweat-stiffened cymbal sleeves, marching band baseball cap, math homework from last semester, a bag of goldfish that had been there since September, and his cymbals were scattered around the bag in a grisly minefield that resembled the dining hall tables after the dinner rush.

 

It was not the fact that his bag had been rummaged through and his stuff cast aside.  It was not the fact that he’d finally found that one homework assignment that had almost destroyed his grade in that one class.  No, it was a far worse truth that stilled him and made him simmer with rage:  someone had stolen his tater tots.

 

He’d brought some with him today to save for after practice (yes, he was actually practicing in the off-season) and stowed it in what he’d believed to be a safe place:  his cymbal bag.  He’d only left it unattended for two minutes to use the bathroom, and when he’d returned, he’d stumbled upon this.

 

He bared his teeth as his hands curled into feral fists.  All day, he’d been looking forward to his tater tots, and now he’d been robbed of the one thing that brought him joy.

 

He stormed out of the drum room in a seething mass of projectile spit and vivid expletives, his face redder than a strawberry.  The main practice hall was vacant, but that did not stop him from ravaging the racks of chairs and music stands in desperation to catch the fiend who had betrayed him.

 

Out in the hall, a pair of unfamiliar band kids sat giggling as they scrolled through their phones.  Neither of them possessed the plastic contained where his tater tots had been stored.  An interrogation of a poor bloke who just came her to find his lost water bottle yielded similar results.  He wasn’t stupid enough to go to the Fearless Leader, since even he knew the Fearless Leader had more important things to worry about, but perhaps a staff member had seen something.

 

“I’m sorry, Hal, but I haven’t seen anyone go into the drum room,” sighed a forlorn staff member.  “I’ll let you know if I see anything.”

 

“It’s fine,” he growled, swallowing his fury.  She was innocent, he reminded himself.  She wasn’t sus.

 

Another round of fruitless interrogations finally prompted him to give up.  He collapsed beside his poor, lonely cymbals and let out a baleful sob, curling in on himself as he mourned the loss of his dear most requested tater tots.  What a cruel world this was.  Someone had pilfered his precious, and he would never again behold the seven golden nuggets of shredded potato for as long as he lived.

 

Something brushed against his shoulder.  He opened his eyes and found himself peering into the jaws of his ragged cymbal bag.  Wistfully, he stuck his arm in and rummaged around in the vain hope he’d find his tater tots.

 

His hand brushed against something flimsy and plastic.  He paused, an electric shudder running through him as it slowly dawned on him what he was touching.  Shaking, he extracted the container and held it to the light, sobbing not from grief but from exultation as he counted seven glorious bundles of fried yumminess under the fluorescents.

 

He whooped in spite of himself and leapt to his feet, then executed a perfect jump-fist pump combination the likes of which the drum room had never seen.  His most requested tater tots had not been stolen; they were in his grasp, uneaten and innocent, beckoning him to open the lid and devour every last crumb.  He grinned, then yanked off the lid and seized the top tater tot, a greasy pseudo-cylinder that had long since cooled to room temperature.

 

The flavor was exquisite:  salty, savory, potato-y, it permeated throughout his tongue and illuminated his soul.  The colors in the drum room brightened, and the crud on the ground shined in a way that was eerily breathtaking.  The stale bag of goldfish did not seem so unappetizing.

 

“HEY!”

 

With a jolt, Hal whirled around.  One of the upperclassmen darkened the doorway, her hands on her hips and her ponytail dissolved into frizzy strands.  Hal hastily snapped the lid back on his container and met the livid girl’s gaze.

 

“Are you the one who stole my pączki?”

My Name is Minette, Chapter Twelve: Trapped

theopoling Leave a comment

That was the last conversation she’d been trying to avoid. “Maw, please!” Minette protested. She wrapped a lock of hair around her finger and rubbed it between her fingers. She wouldn’t be able to meet her reflection at all with her last shadow of independence sheared off. It was her only weak grasp at her true self, at the person she dreamed about. Shearing off her hair turned her outsides into the outsides of the Good Son, the honorable husband, the person who was not–and would never be–Minette.

Paw’s fist slammed down on the table, silverware jangling, Irma startling. Uh-oh.

He leaned forward. Crickets sung outside, unaware of the calamity inside. “Why do you fight this so hard?” he asked. His face was the reddest she’d ever seen it, and that was saying something.

Minette was silent. She couldn’t tell him. She had no defense. She couldn’t answer past her tight throat.

“Morton, you’re too old for all this. It’s time to grow up,” he said, snapping the last two words in emphasis.

Minette ordered herself not to cry. She nodded her head, hiding behind locks that would be gone in a day or two. Her dreams bled away. This was real. This was happening. To her. And soon.

“Yes, Paw.”

Paw leaned back. “Good,” he said. The sounds of life resumed. Everyone else kept eating, complimenting Maw on her mash. Irma asked about her dress, and Maw’s eager yammering filled the silence and loosened everyone’s shoulders.

Life kept turning around Minette, even as desperately as she wanted it to stop, to just stop, if only for a moment.

It felt utterly useless, almost stupid. What control did she have over her life? All her dreaming, her pining for something else, it had only served to hurt her. To highlight its own impossibility. Before autumn came, she’d have a moppy head and a wife and she’d be a partner at the smithy.

Before long, she’d be trapped behind the portrait of her false life forever, acting and dancing around like a fool until it was time for her own weary, overworked death, completely voiceless, her true self unknown to all.

OTM #1: Creature

katelynski 2 Comments

Hello, and welcome to “Oh, the Mundanity!” Through this series I want to capture the little things in my life that keep me inspired. There are so many joys in life that go unnoticed, and I think taking time to reflect on these things make me feel so much more calm at the end of the day.

With midterms around the corner, I’ve been sort of tense and wired as of late, but my roommate’s cat has really kept me going. He’s as the title describes – just a little creature – and his strange antics have had a strangely profound effect on my life. If you have a creature of your own, or maybe a friend with one, I highly recommend you take a moment to give them a hug, a long stare, even have a conversation. Sending good luck to everyone who’s having a hard time this week; I hope my creature can spread love your way!