stephanie yang

one of the things i have always adored about new orleans, is that life here is never boring. i mean, really. something about the air or the water or something less concrete, tugs at each of our inner freaks and that is the persona we seem to all lead with when living here. and yes, perhaps that is a gross generalization, but i think it is the quirkyness in us all that knits together the beauty in life…and this town embraces all of these parts as the norm. that is an amazing thing.

as i’ve been walking through this time here, reviving friendships, reinvigorating connection, making new connections, stories begin to unravel before me like a reflection of hansel + gretl’s bread crumb trail, teasing me deeper and deeper in.

here are a few stories to share:

1. “ireland”
location: friend’s house

i’m standing at the back of the room having a complicated, yet cordial, conversation with a lawyer i actually met several years ago, who now tells me that he represented the new orleans housing authority recently during the controversy over whether or not to tear down existing public housing projects post-katrina (they did tear them down…) and as our conversation continues, we segue politely back to film (he’s been an active board member of the new orleans film festival for over 15 years) and he is encouraging me to submit my films to this year’s festival, as another woman joins us, a jury member of the festival, anxious to see more narrative/experimental pieces. curious. (yes yes, i will be submiting!)

and then i notice it. across the room, my wonderful friend alba, who’s birthday we are celebrating this night, is talking with a beautiful older woman and they are both looking over at me repeatedly and alba gives me that “we’re talking about you” look, that we have perfected with each other…

i excuse myself from the film festival gossip conversation (alas) and weave over to alba and said, mysterious woman…seems, i have been smiling at her all night and she is curious to know who i am…perhaps i am just a smiley person? we begin to talk and alba disappears. we happily bond immediately about both being tulane alums and she also tells me she’s married to the chair of the tulane theater department (rad!)…but that she had much more fun when she was younger and was “experimenting” with dating women…

somehow the topic of guinness comes up and she shakes her head at me upon learning that i have never been to ireland, thus never having had the opportunity to drink guinness there. she puts her hand on my forearm, looks me in the eyes and says, “then i will have to take you to ireland with me so we can drink guinness together.” oh my, i think she is flirting with me.

i, of course, flirt back

we end up talking a lot now, sitting on the front porch, and i learn that she has a son who works in film for a post-production house in burbank…who she will be visiting at the end of may. i mention i might be in LA in may and she says we must then stay in touch so we can do dinner in LA. she’s on facebook, she says. “of course”, i say…and a the porch fills up with fabulously drunk and politely southern gay boys, our conversation ends there…

until she finds me later to say goodbye, and plants a big kiss, smack dab on my lips. she winks at me and leaves.

i am flattered.
i am intrigued.
i am intrigued that i am intrigued by a woman who is 65.

i haven’t friended her on facebook yet, but i ‘m sure i will

2. “alabama?”
location: private party at tipitina’s

he was just standing there, a few steps back from the other people i was talking to, staring. as our conversation lulled, i turned to him, extended my hand and offered my name. “hi, i’m stephanie” (as everyone here knows me as). he just looked at my hand, curious, and stared back. finally, after a few awkward moments when i am realizing that he is really way gone drunk and i may have just made a huge faux pas by engaging, he joined me and began to talk:

he asked me first, “are you a native?”, to which i replied, “no, not a native, but yes, i used to live here [in nola].”

he nods. then asks, “have you ever lived in alabama?” to which i replied, “no, but i have visited…”.

he’s drunk and my curiosity for where these questions are going begin to wane quickly as he punctures the bubble of personal space in leaning in just a little too close, as he continues the inquisition with, “are you a lesbian?”

i’m sorry, what? i respond, “because i haven’t lived in alabama, you are automatically asking me if i’m a lesbian?!”

i look over to a new friend i had met earlier in the evening and he just shakes his head…but doesn’t not intervene.

i like his lead…so i just shake me head and excuse myself as his wife approaches and tells him he needs to leave now, or else he’s walking home.

nice. the man can barely stand…

funny thing is, as i’m leaving with another friend a little bit later, we see him staggering alone down the sidewalk, away from the bar.

i think his name was joe.

3. “lollipop”
location: friend’s house

i am reconnecting with an old friend, a dali-inspired moustached gentleman with many a visible piercing…and we are laughing raucously at how our past and present intersect. he used to date a good friend of mine, and as her name comes up, i tell him that my most vivid memory of the time he dated her, was actually one of their play dates (he’s very kinky!! yay!)…no, i wasn’t there…but i was a part of the planning beforehand…and was there afterwards for the debrief with her. it was an age play scenario – my friend was playing a young girl being taken to the carnival and he was the sugar daddy…who buys her a giant rainbow colored lollipop (and i mean giant — it came in a big box) and then spanks her well with it. the lollipop came home beautifully cracked, chipped and well used

i tell him simply, i remember the lollipop. he grins proudly and nods, “oh, so do i.”

4. “ole miss”
location: friend’s house

“i’m actually from mississippi”, the sweet gay boy tells me. it is late into the night and still his button-down shirt remains unwrinkled under his sweater vest and neatly tucked into his unpleated, pressed khakis. we are sitting outside in the warm air and he tells me he went to “ole miss”. i get excited because to be honest, he is the first person i’ve ever met who went there and finally i get to admit that i visited the campus there in oxford once and walked all through campus, just because i was curious about this infamous institution of elite southern-ness. he is shocked! i ask him, “so, how were you able to queer it up?”, he grins and tells me that once he muddled through his freshman year, he realized that it was “one of the queerest places” ever!

really?!

we were interrupted by another friend before i could inquire further as to whether or not southern politeness is what was behind his response, or that perhaps ole miss is really one of the queerest places ever…and what the hell was i doing in san francisco when clearly, i could be living in mississippi and eating real grits on a regular basis as a big flaming queer.