The Big Goodbye
The Farewell Angel Dare Tour is nearly done. I didn’t end up doing as many in-person events as I might have liked, or visiting as many different places as I wanted, but it’s been a wild and wonderful ride. It’s also got me feeling some Feelings about some things, but I’ll get to that in a minute.
First up, my last stop on the tour. The Slam-Bang Hometown Finale in my beloved New York City.
I’ve got this shindig on May 29th at 6:30pm at PT Knitwear, 180 Orchard Street. It’s my official wrap party, and before you start beefing about the five bucks (which counts toward your book purchase,) know that there will be free-flowing adult beverages and other refreshments courtesy of Hard Case Crime. There’ll be a little meet and greet beforehand and then me and Rob will be talking smack on stage. It definitely won’t be PG-13.
So pony the fuck up and RSVP here, ya cheap bastard. You won’t be sorry.
Then, as if that’s not enough, get a load of this line up!
Noir at Shade bar! 241 Sullivan St, June 1st starting at 6pm. It’s gonna be aces, and I’m thrilled to be in the mix. Hope to see you there!
Right, ok, I guess I’ve done all I can to put off the “talking about feelings” portion of our show. Let’s just dive in, shall we?
Saying goodbye to Angel Dare has been about so much more than just ending a series for me. It also marks the end of an era.
I’m saying goodbye to an older, outdated version of myself. I’m upgrading, shedding my skin and transforming into something exciting and unprecedented. I’m rethinking myself, from my complex and often rocky relationship with gender and femininity to what I really want out of my writing, my relationships and my life. I’m refusing to confine myself within the boundaries of what’s expected of me.
As a writer trying to sell books in the modern social media thunderdome, you’re expected to have a brand. A platform. A carefully crafted online persona that complements the genre, voice and style of your writing. I got lucky, in that I could just be who I already was, look the way I looked, and enthuse about the shit I loved and it all fit neatly into my brand as a sexy hardboiled crime writer.
Almost twenty years later, things are more… complicated.
It’s not just that I lost interest in performing high femme drag, although that’s the most visually obvious element of this menopausal rebirth. It’s also that I don’t want to be limited to writing nothing but old-school, two-fisted crime novels. The project I’m working on now is a real left turn at Albuquerque and I’m fucking loving it. I’m no longer interested in squeezing my bigger, wilder, stranger self into my old 18 inch leather corset.
Goodbye Hot Noir Babe, hello Bisexual Assassin.
I’m 39 in this photo, in full Hot Noir Babe mode. Vintage hat. Vintage bullet bra. Vintage cincher. Vintage girdle. Vintage stockings. Vintage stilettos. Vintage typer (one of many currently in storage in LA while I finalize my transition to living full time in the Pacific Northwest.)
Too Hot Noir Dog Butch is gone now. As is kinky LA shutterbug Carlos Batts. That version of me, the one who wrote Money Shot, is also long gone.
This is me today, posing in the living room of the home I own. I’ll be 56 next month. I’m wearing Tomboy X boxer-briefs (with absorbent crotch panel for post-hysterectomy bladder leaks,) a breathable mesh bralette to keep my big, sweaty boobs cool and under control, a boys-size black undershirt, and my reading glasses. My hair is all gray now, and in desperate need of barbering. My dog is Lupe, a special needs French Bulldog, who also leaks and has to wear human baby diapers. Not sure why I have my leg up in the air like I’m about to pee on a fire hydrant, but it fits the theme. Also, my balance is for shit since I was diagnosed with Ménière’s disease, so it was probably just a goofy little wobble at the exact wrong moment. Which is probably why I’m laughing.
I didn’t retake it, because I only allowed myself a single shot to snap this pic. I didn’t want to sort through a hundred pics and fuss about tiny perceived flaws like we’ve all be trained to do in this post front-facing camera regime. I just wanted to make a point.
What is the point? Well, I’ll start by telling you what it isn’t. I’m not fishing for compliments or hoping to be told that I “still look good” or worse “good for my age.” Whether or not I’m perceived as conventionally attractive or fuckable is utterly beside the point. What I wanted to talk about was aging and changing and assuming my formidable final form. About letting go of old stuff and making room for new stuff. Of starting a new chapter, embarking on a new adventure, and kicking off the Third Act of my life.
Of course, letting go of my old self isn’t the only reason I’m feeling Big Feelings about this final leg of the tour. It’s also the first time I’ve been back in NYC since Pop Faust’s funeral twelve (!!!) years ago, and it will be the first time I have to stay in a hotel. Somebody I don’t know lives in the apartment where I grew up now. All my family members have moved away, as have a lot of my old friends. I’ll be just another tourist in my hometown.
But you know what? I can’t fucking wait. Because all endings are really new beginnings, aren’t they? So come out and celebrate with me, raise a glass to Angel, and help us put the FUN back in funeral.