Monday, November 29, 2010

A sudden coat

Okay, what could be more beautiful than walking outside to witness a sudden coat of snow, blowing in the wind and illuminated by the streetlights – yes it’s 22 degrees out, but I just got new mittens made out of recycled materials – although my hands still feel cold, maybe I should try the other mittens, oh wait – way colder. I would snap a photo of the snow, the light, and the air, but it’s too cold except it’s wonderful too, I’ll just pull these scarves up higher on my face, maybe I need one of those hats with ears and definitely a few more scarves but oh the air the air the air is even better now, even better in the snow and see, now I’m home.

Friday, November 26, 2010


I met Truly Outrageous Chrissie Contagious at the March on Washington in 1993. Or, not quite at the March but in Dupont Circle the night before. No, actually I met her a few days earlier, the way this March became a whole week, we met in Dupont Circle but during the day. With JoAnne, who later became my best friend but of course I didn’t know that yet. JoAnne and Chrissie came to the March with the queer youth contingent from Seattle, and JoAnne said I like your hair, and just like that we were friends that’s how it worked at the March, the biggest ever of its kind, a million white gays in white T-shirts applying for Community Clout credit cards but also that meant that the freaks, we found each other, and quickly.

Then there was the night before the March, and I was with Zee, who became my first boyfriend, but I didn’t know that yet either I just knew that I’d met this hot boy who looked at me with stars in his eyes and when we held each other I got stars in my eyes too and anyway we were dancing in Dupont Circle and Chrissie jumped naked out of a tree, falling in between us screaming girl!!!!!!!!

Maybe two years later, Chrissie came to San Francisco to visit me and JoAnne or maybe she wasn’t visiting either of us but she came to San Francisco and we met at a café and she was working big fake eyelashes and some store-designed club outfit and she said girl, I need to change out of this, I can’t be seen like this in daylight I’m embarrassed and I said honey, don’t ever be embarrassed to turn it out or actually turn it out came later to my vocabulary but it’s what I meant, and whatever I said Chrissie would repeat for years like it had changed her life and it’s funny when you meet someone at such a formative time -- back at the March on Washington Zee and JoAnne and Chrissie and I were all 19 or 20 but we wanted different things. I was there to protest with ACT UP for universal healthcare so I was disgusted by the overwhelming apathy and this was the moment when gays in the military became the big issue and I felt squashed. I’d grown up in DC too, so there was a lot more to the story I mean I hated that town, everything about it and when I got bashed the day after the March, right in front of the late-night restaurant where I used to go in high school, ended up in the hospital where they pumped saline into my eyes to save my vision and everything made more sense than ever.

Chrissie came to the March to party, she had so much fun that she ended up staying and working at the strip clubs, the part of DC I never got to know because I left right after high school but she would tell me stories, she decided we were sisters right away, the way we both spent a lot of time in worlds of clubs and drugs, selling sex for a living and moving from place to place in search of something we would never find. We were looking for different things, but we were both looking, honey we were always looking.

I guess we really became sisters because of JoAnne, I mean because of JoAnne’s death -- when someone that important to you dies, you become closer to the others who are left. JoAnne died because she was kicking heroin and the hospital refused her healthcare, I was living in Boston at the time but I went back to San Francisco because I didn’t want JoAnne’s parents to get her journals, the dirty old man who she needed to imagine in order to get off, her father. San Francisco welcomed me like a widow and so when Chrissie decided to move down from Seattle I welcomed her, we were both widows and for just for a second here I’m going to mention Andee, even though she’s not part of this story exactly I did meet her in Seattle through JoAnne when we were becoming so close by talking about addiction and sexual abuse and rage, and when JoAnne died Andee was also a widow.

Chrissie came down from Seattle, and that was when I’d decided that the only good drug was Special K, maybe it would help me avoid the rest and then I ended up with three whole bottles of liquid, liquid is how it starts when it’s still an injection drug so you can perform operations on cats, I bought the bottles for someone who got all excited then I had a connection for the real stuff but then left me with them. I figured Chrissie was in town and she was the party girl so we could sell K together for some cash. I cooked it all up because that’s how you make K into that white powder that everyone wants at the clubs, you put it on a dish in the oven, but then I would come home and there was Chrissie snorting lines, oh well I guess I’ll do a little. One night we ended up at The Hole in the Wall and Chrissie picked up some blonde suburban boy, her type, I was never ready to go home when the bars closed so when they said let’s go to Blow Buddies I was there with them and when the boy pulled out a credit card and started chopping up some crystal and held it up to my nose I snorted it right up, I always said people should do their drugs in public but then as soon as it hit me I thought oh no, I just ruined my life. And then: might as well have fun.

Even when I wasn’t trying to avoid drugs was trying to avoid crystal -- it was part of the reason I left San Francisco the first time around, but anyway then we got kicked out of Blow Buddies for saying girl too much, and then I cleaned my room while Chrissie and this boy tried to have sex, or whatever people do on crystal, while I gritted my teeth from a few feet away because my room was tiny, I was trying to act like I was organizing until the boy took out the drugs again, oh sure. Eventually they were trying to sleep and I was still up and then the boy went home so Chrissie and I went to the End Up and I’d never realized before how amazing it was to alternate crystal with K, like you were dancing 10 feet in the air the air was the ground there was no ground except the way you were dancing. And when Chrissie left in her chenille leopard print pants to do a porn video I bought two bags of crystal, I kept alternating it with the K and of course more cocktails to keep me from getting too wired and then I guess it was about 24 hours from when we originally left The Hole in the Wall and we were back. I poured out this huge bump of K, a whole capful, I knew I would end up in a K-hole but I thought I could pull myself out with all the crystal but K hadn’t really arrived in San Francisco so the bartenders didn’t know what to do when my friends said no, leave her alone, she can’t move, they dragged me out to the street and then I could feel my head splitting open, holding on to Rick’s hand because I was so angry at Chrissie and I could feel the life leaving my body, the way everything flashes before you until this homeless guy said pour cold water on him and everyone looked confused but I nodded my head and the cold water brought me down enough to get into a cab. And a week or two later when the ordeal was over I decided I would stop doing drugs, drinking too because it always what made me decide that of course I would do a few bumps, even if I hadn’t had anything to drink.

JoAnne and I had been friends in the way that meant it would never end, we knew that for sure, and then the hospital told her to go home with active TB and a bladder infection, she died the next day. When I moved back to San Francisco, for a while all I could think about was death, but I’m trying to tell you about Chrissie so I’m telling you about drugs. She always needed someone to party with, at any cost to herself or the people she loved or hated and maybe even dated except that was another thing that connected us, we didn’t really date. I guess I just told you about my first boyfriend, but then my second boyfriend was eight years later and I don’t remember Chrissie ever dating anyone really, no wait there was Brian in Seattle, that’s right, and now it’s been another eight years for me but that’s a different story.

Chrissie was the type of queen who everyone liked to talk about because that meant there was someone messier than they were -- she was always getting kicked out of bars for causing a scene, maybe jumping up on the bar and kicking someone in the face but she just meant to demonstrate a glamorous cancan, stealing some trick’s car and deciding to drive cross country, crashing into a cop car and ending up in jail in Wyoming, always trying to get back to Seattle or Florida where she was from or New York and through all the messiness she somehow became the manager of the poshest boutique hotel in Seattle, why not throw a party and serve up all the liquor bottles earmarked for the mini refrigerators? Or there was the drug dealer former military trust fund roommate who pulled a gun on her and she punched a hole in the wall, ended up in the psych ward. When she kept going to the hospital for abscesses – a spider bite, that’s what she said. I knew that you couldn’t get someone to stop doing drugs, all you could do was listen. I listened, and I tried to get her to tell the truth. Chrissie, that’s not a spider bite.

When she came to my house with grey skin and black knuckles, sipping Dust Off from the straw that came with the can, girl I got cab vouchers, let’s go somewhere, and when I took her hand in my hand or really the mitten covering my hand, something about how she was cold, she was sick of it all, she was angry, that’s when we were really sisters.

We were both crazy queens and hookers who turned tricks for way too long until it made us distant in ways we hadn’t expected. We both liked to share stories starting with honey or girl or you won’t believe this. We both liked to turn language into a game. We both believed in runway and reading and rage and rapture, but I don’t mean to suggest that we were similar. I remember the first time Chrissie stopped doing drugs, I guess it was around when I first stopped doing drugs, now that I think about it, but I didn’t think about that then. Chrissie started going to the gym and drinking protein shakes to bulk up and she bought blue contact lenses to cover her deep brown eyes and she tried to imitate some kind of upscale preppy look that before I’d always seen as a joke, but the worst part was that she didn’t want you to call her girl. My name is Chris, she said.

Now I remember what I said to Chrissie, that first time she arrived in San Francisco: don’t let them make you change. That’s one of the stories she would always repeat, and I loved her for it. And also I loved her. There was never anything balanced about our relationship -- I knew she was completely unreliable, and so I never relied on her. I’m not sure if I realized I respected her because she could let everything go, over and over again, in hopes of finding what she wanted. She never did, but neither have I.

Maybe you’ve figured out that she’s dead. Her heart stopped, that’s what they said. Later they said it was because of huffing, but I’m sure that’s not the whole story. I could tell you so much more. But it was strange the way I found out. Socket left a message saying I want to offer you support about Chrissie Contagious, I know you must know because it’s on Facebook.

Facebook? I don’t read anything on Facebook, I mean I read what’s addressed directly to me, and nothing else. I started crying right then, but I didn’t want to cry yet because I didn’t know anything. So I looked – Magdalena left me a link to Chrissie’s page so I went there. The page had become a memorial – is this what people do now when someone dies? All these stories about adventures with Chrissie. Someone wrote about how they were sure she was dancing in the stars, and I felt so disgusted. I still didn’t know anything.

The last time I talked to Chrissie, she had just listened to me on NPR. She was so annoyed at the announcer for calling me she. Of course we call each other she all the time, Chrissie said, but that’s because we’re camping – I couldn’t believe that announcer, the way she kept saying she.

I couldn’t believe that Chrissie didn’t realize I had asked the announcer to call me she. I never understood how Chrissie could live in worlds filled with freaks and fruits and perverts and whores for so long, but still she wanted to be normal. Sure, she could pull stunts that made everyone else look tame and prudish, but only on drugs.

Once Chrissie fled San Francisco and crystal for the last time, I was someone she would call late at night when she’d been drinking for 12 hours the way she’d been drinking for 20 years almost and even though she mostly stopped the rest of the drugs there was always a cocktail waiting. She’d alternate between getting more ice and asking me about San Francisco and yelling at the TV—something about Hillary or Heath Ledger or how angry she was that they were selling dildos on infomercials, but I wonder what she’d think about all these news stories about an epidemic of queer teen suicides, an epidemic we all know has been going on for generations. I’m wondering about those of us who do survive – for how long?

When I step outside and oh

Let me tell you about the air oh the air the air the air the air! To tell you the truth, I wasn’t even thinking about it until I went outside in the freezing cold to sit in the sun yes the sun and at first yes it was the cold that I noticed almost too cold until the sun yes I told you about the sun but then the air I mean really the air I mean really. I wanted to say this must be the freshest air ever, but of course there are places way fresher so maybe I’ll just say the freshest air ever for me, or maybe not the freshest air ever but the freshest air ever in the morning when I step outside and oh, when I step back inside everything’s different, my head clears and I can actually dance to three songs in a row without getting tired or hurting anything or actually I do hurt my foot a little bit, otherwise I would still be dancing but wait let me open the door again just to feel that air.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Down fast

Yesterday I felt pretty good, almost great when I went on a walk, three walks actually and they didn’t tire me out too much. The second one was amazing, the sun setting and those bright desert colors and then the softness of dusk and then I arrived to sign a lease yes a lease I have a new home! A two-bedroom, even, for less rent than I paid in San Francisco for my studio – and so I’ll even be able to have a guest room, I’ve never had a guest room before – even when I lived with three or four or eight people, we didn’t have a guest room. And the best part is that it’s in the perfect location for me, the only area where I can kind of get around without a car, and right behind the corporate health food store – it’s kind of what I fantasized about before I got here, and now I’ve signed a lease!

But then today I wake up feeling awful – it’s so hard to predict when my sleep will be good and when it will be terrible, or even what exactly makes it terrible, because last night didn’t feel that awful. I did go to bed wired, and that kind of kept on going while I was sleeping, so I guess that was the problem. Then the landscapers or whomever were pounding on the door again, just as I was waking up. At least I have a feldenkrais appointment, actually that’s in 10 minutes – better go.

Okay, that didn’t work. Or, maybe it did work, but it didn’t work at making me feel better. Sometimes feldenkrais does make me feel worse, but usually when I already feel this awful it helps. But not right now, I guess. It’s like every little thing I do makes me feel terribly sad and overwhelmed. The sun is going down fast, I better take a shower and go for a walk.

These fish look a bit hungry, but still somehow healthy, here in the desert...

Monday, November 22, 2010

Sun hat strategy

Somehow, every time I put an outfit together, it ends up being red and green, or containing enough red and green that people think or maybe they don’t think but they say something about Christmas, and I hate Christmas, and all these fucking holidays, what could be worse? But it’s hard to avoid red and green when my warmest coat is red, and my other two warm coats both contain green, and my warmest scarf is purple and green, and my mittens are green, and I have two pairs of green corduroys, and now my daytime sun hat is kind of a pale blue-green, so instead I’ll tell you about sun hat strategy.

It’s good that I have the winter to figure it all out, when the sun is in one direction you pull the hat that way, turn a corner and you might be facing the sun so then you have to pull the hat down, another corner and you pull it the other way. How does my hair look with all this pulling? Or, even more important, is this hat shading my entire face? Store windows can help to figure that out, but then I always look up when I’m looking that way, and that changes the angle, less of my face is shielded.

Then there’s the wind—it’s hard to find a sun hat big enough that also won’t blow away. Like the one I’ve been using, it’s pretty big, and it does manage to stay on, I just pulled it down a little, which makes me look stranger, but I don’t want to lose the hat. I have a much bigger one, but it’s so light but I’m sure it would just blow away. Although it does contain a wire that makes it easy to shape in any way you want, maybe that would help. I guess I better go for a walk.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

An extra-special thank you...

Maybe I never told you this before, but my absolute favorite way to wake up in the morning is when someone’s pounding on the door. Even better if it’s my worst night of sleep in a while, waking up in the middle of the night with endless bloating and burping, probably because I took too much of the emulsified oregano to kill the parasites, but anyway there’s good news because now there’s someone pounding on the door. Even better, because they stop pounding, and then start again.

Then I hear something that sounds like a lawnmower -- oh, great – it is a lawnmower. What a great time to mow the grass, when it’s all dead – then come my favorite machines, the professional leaf blowers—could anything be a more efficient use of energy? Especially when the leaves have already blown themselves into a beautiful and delicate pattern against the walls, but it’s so much more beautiful now than an hour-and-a-half has passed and I can see the dirt, oh how I just love looking at freshly-mown dead grass and newly-uncovered dirt, I’ll have to get my temporary landlord and extra-special thank you for such a lovely Saturday morning surprise!

My first graffiti sighting in Santa Fe...

Friday, November 19, 2010

This space where I really feel what I want

I keep missing out on my writing time, maybe it’s because I rush outside for a morning walk and then I get tired, or because I’m so focused on finding an apartment and that gets kind of exhausting too, especially since I’m walking around and then suddenly the effects of the altitude will hit me and it’s like I can barely walk anymore. Then there’s the difficulty of using my laptop instead of my usual setup – the mouse especially, what a mess!

Did I mention that there are no emissions laws for cars in New Mexico, or at least no state laws, no smog tests that you have to pass like in California, that’s what someone told me, so maybe that’s why, when you’re standing close to the road and some truck drives by, oh no! So I will certainly have to figure out routes for my walks that don’t involve such close proximity to the fumes, although sometimes it will certainly be difficult to avoid. There’s this thing about the West that I’m starting to understand, the ideology of all these trucks and diesel fumes in a town so famed for health – it’s the keep your laws off my freedom kind of mindset, although I will also say that not a single person has yet questioned by name when I say Mattilda – not one. Not even: what’s your real name? Or: Mitchell? Miltilda? So I’ll take that part of the freedom.

And a Santa Fe phenomenon: realtors without money. Like this one who moved out of his condo to take a job as a building manager, and then he rents out the condo to pay the mortgage. Or the ones who don’t yet have enough money to fix the kiva fireplace, but as soon as you pay them the deposit down they’ll have enough cash. Although then there are the ones that clearly do have money, telling you that they spent $20,000 to stucco that wall, so the other one will wait a while. But it is interesting how realtors and rental agents seem to intermingle, I mean the realtors do it all – like they’ll have a house on the market for $1.6 million, and an apartment for 700 a month – although maybe it’s not the same realtors who represent those properties, but definitely the same agencies.

But let me tell you about the morning sunshine, and all the air yes the air the air and the air. Do you remember those pictures in National Geographic or wherever, the Siberian women in swimsuits and swim caps, sunning themselves against a wall in the dead of winter? It always seemed so crazy, but now I understand. It’s the way that winter really works. At least when I’m sitting on the patio, testing how many layers I can take off, and then it’s just wool socks, shorts, mittens and a hat, and yes the sun on my skin and all this air and I know a naturopath told me that the angle of the sun and the earth doesn’t give you any vitamin D at this time of year, but whatever it gives me is what I need: my body in this place this space where I really feel what I want.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

As long as possible

Here’s the thing: you could be anywhere, let’s say a shopping mall parking lot or okay I am in a shopping mall parking lot, I figure I might as well see what’s inside, nothing, better than something because that means it’s a mall that failed, or failed past CVS and Office Depot and a hot tub replacement parts store, but anyway then I’m in the parking lot, gross, but I look up and oh, the mountains, right there, and the sky, the air and the sky and the mountains.

Much better is right when I wake up and go outside, it’s freezing out, 35 degrees, but I’m sitting in the sun and oh there’s so much air or not just air it’s like air and air and air and air, and I think what the hell was that shit I was breathing before no actually I just think oh, this is amazing. Except for the time when I walk out of the first apartment I visit, I guess it’s not an apartment it’s a tiny house with two beautiful patios but it’s too small inside and I can tell I’ll be allergic, so then I’m walking back to where the bus is, and it’s so far I could never live this far even though this is close it’s nowhere near close enough and I can walk because I didn’t bring a bag but in my regular life I would definitely need one, right? Tonight’s strategy is that I’ll walk to Whole Foods to get something to eat, and then I’ll take the bus home, but now I’m on Cerrillos, which is 5 miles of strip mall hell, and even though this is before the strip malls start the exhaust from cars is horrible and it’s much further than I thought, everything is further than it looks on the map, further than people say because they all drive anyway and outside Whole Foods, yes I’m finally there, but wait did I mention the old railcars decorating the railyard and yes, the mountains again, you can see them in every direction except when the car exhaust surrounds you I mean you can still see then too but it doesn’t hit you in the same way. But outside Whole Foods they have these little carts that are like rolling play stations for kids and you put your groceries on top, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those before, and when I get inside I think oh no, this is hell.

Which is strange, because usually when I go to a random town, Whole Foods actually seems comforting in a way that at least I could get groceries and feed myself, but maybe here I’m already used to the co-op, the co-op that’s just as expensive as Whole Foods and I can’t exactly tell what exactly makes it a co-op any more that something like REI, which is actually just down the street, thrilling, but anyway as soon as I step into Whole Foods I think oh no, what am I doing here?

Except I know that I’m there to get food, and once a few rich straight women and one dyke compliment me on my look I’m feeling better, especially after the one who says everything about you, it all looks great -- I’ll take that from corporate health food homogeneity any day, I mean I’ll take it wherever I can get it, and did I mention the trend here in Santa Fe: straight women love me, or are at least curious, dykes look a little confused but interested, fags act snotty, and most straight guys don’t even want to acknowledge me. Especially the cowboy types – there are a lot of cowboy types in Santa Fe.

Of course there are exceptions to this general pattern, like the straight couple who go to my second apartment showing right after me, I mean they’re looking for it and I say hi and the woman says hi! No, wait – what’s the exception there? Maybe that they were both friendly and I wanted them to get the apartment, I mean the house – this one was huge, with stunningly high ceilings and a bathroom twice the size of the bedroom in the other place, but I would never be able to get there without a car, and the back faced another street like a thoroughfare, what is it with these highway-type streets in the middle of cutesy Santa Fe?

But I wanted to tell you about the bus, I mean I wanted to tell you but first I wanted to catch the bus, after Whole Foods, but instead I just waited and waited and then I tried to get a cab but there weren’t any, so then I started walking, and I did see a cab but he had a call, so I decided okay, I’m not that far, I guess I’ll walk, and then after I walked a few blocks the cab came back but I waved him away, I figured I was close enough already but oh those last four blocks, oh when I got home my feet hurt and I was so tired, so out of breath because remember the elevation, I couldn’t speak and my body was hurting like actually it hasn’t hurt yet, then I started a bath but the hot water ran out halfway through and I got in anyway, and even though it wasn’t warm it was better than not being in the bath, and I stayed in as long as possible and the good news was that by the time the bath finished draining the water was warm again so I could take a hot shower to wash off the Epsom salts.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

When I wake up, there’s something about the light that means I can’t tell what time of day it is, even when I look at the clock it seems wrong and in my head I feel tired like I could sleep longer but then when I close my eyes again I’m awake and I stay in bed anyway because the clock says it’s early, I don’t want to get up too early and crash but then I’m awake so I get up and go outside. I must still be dreaming because there is so much air and immediately my head clears no opens but no matter how much I think about I can’t tell which direction I’m facing or how sky meets earth or in what direction the sun is coming from and the walls of the buildings are smooth, rounded instead of sharp and I’m standing out on this brick patio facing three oak trees with leaves a bright fall yellow glowing in the light and maybe this dream has something to do with childhood because I grew up with oak trees but they were already huge, these are arranged in a careful line, leaves blowing in my direction and I’m not sure how many of these trees will fit in the small space once they’re grown unless this is a different kind of oak, youthful for a long long time like the way they always say we want to be except then we remember childhood.

Maybe it’s raining because there are clouds so low and I hear something that sounds like rain except I don’t feel it, maybe the drops are so small that my skin can absorb without interruption. I go back inside, into the kitchen to look at another view, a house with a brick chimney, two huge spruce trees behind, also from my childhood, I mean not those trees exactly but spruce trees, huge. Actually these are smaller, darker, maybe a different kind of evergreen and then I go back outside because I want to see what the light looks like now, and right then it starts snowing, flurries hitting my mittens and this happened the last time I visited Santa Fe, I love the snow so much I can’t imagine a better greeting I’m here in all this air I love this air and the light and the sky and now the sun is coming out a little I need to go back outside to figure out which direction.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

That strange deluded calm

I’m staying at this gorgeous place in LA—the key is the garden, oh my the garden! It’s like you could be anywhere, maybe not even in LA except my nostrils are closing from something in the air, I mean the air. And these cushy lean-back chairs, I need to get one of these for Santa Fe. But I think the stove is leaking, I keep smelling gas, even over by the bed with the windows open. But then I’m outside, and I smell the gas again – at first I start thinking maybe there’s a leak in the whole neighborhood, but then I remember wait, I’m in LA – that’s the air.

I go outside for a walk, and it’s almost like high elevation the way I’m out of breath almost right away, but that’s just the pollution. Still, I look in the distance – mountains? Where are those mountains? Maybe that’s Griffith Park. I look to the side—those tall skinny palm trees growing diagonally. All these big houses, many of them not particularly fancy but not particularly rundown either. Birds of paradise growing out on the street. Each time I come to LA, I get closer to understanding the allure. I’m in the center of one of the largest and certainly most polluted cities in this country, the center of so much industry and striving, but there’s that strange deluded calm you get when you walk around outside in the sun and everything is growing and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees. Then there’s the highway up ahead, cars stopped for miles even though it’s noon, I think I better turn around.

Monday, November 08, 2010

Remote control

But wait – forget about what I said about strip mall hell. As soon as Randy and I get on the highway, I think oh no, my life is over. But we’re only on the highway for a minute, when we get off there’s an outlet mall and that’s our destination – no, not Rue 21, Guess, Polo, or Carter’s, but, yes – the As Seen on TV store. Randy wants one of those remote control electronic back scratchers.

Really we’re here at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf – don’t forget the leaf part – using the wireless internet – actually I’m just sweating and immediately in more pain and more exhausted, but there’s a bus stop across the street and I can watch the people waiting there to realize how horrible it would be to really live here. Unless I could sit in my apartment by the beach all the time. But wait – you can get a $1 dollar any size soft drink or sweet tea at McDonald’s, right across the street, open 24 hours. I think I’ll check that out as soon as Randy gets his back scratcher. I do need some Dermablend.