I Moved! The Dead Man’s Piss and Other Tales

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Many of you have been asking where I’ve landed since leaving San Francisco, and I’ve been holding off on responding because 1) I’ve been fucking busy trying to move and 2) I really wasn’t sure where I was going to end up. My official statement, where I said I was going north with no specific destination in mind, wasn’t good enough for some of you. I’d get messages asking WHERE exactly the place was that I wasn’t sure I’d move to. ?!?!? Wanting to spare you all a digital text reenactment of “Who’s On First?” I ignored your messages, but not your desires to know more. Today, you finally get the news.

I’m living in a town in Washington state, not far from Portland, Oregon. 

To be honest, I don’t know much about Portland, other than there’s supposed to be a lot of gluten free people and trees. My boyfriend and I passed through the city one night last year on our way to a Sasquatch conference. We stayed at the Jupiter Hotel, where all the employees have at least one earring and your room comes with drawing chalk and a single complimentary condom. The city felt artsy and fringe and kinda poor, appealing to all my being-an-artist-is-suffering sensibilities. So I’ve rolled the dice and set up shop close to the city of Portlandia but not in it—snagging a house in a small town where the cost of living is low, the scenic views are brilliant green, and the Mexican food unfortunately tastes like white people made it.

I’ve managed to get myself a sweet pandemic bunker with room for a home office, complete with Buffy the Vampire Slayer Funko-Pop decor and a footrest in the shape of a yak. I have a kitchen with enough counter space to comfortably chop a vegetable, a backyard, and a TV room (the American dream). It’s all alien to me. I got so used to living in 600 square feet of space in the Bay Area that I recently got lost and went into the wrong room on my way to bed.

But before you get too jealous, get this…

Meet the Drag Queen Who Slays in Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live!

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Buffy is flanked by vampiric danger in Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live! What ever will she do? | Photo by Sloane Kanter

I’ll never forget the day my friend sent me an event link for Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live!, the hilarious drag parody of the television show of the same name. Halloween was approaching and I had just committed to a romantic relationship with my boyfriend. I saw this situation as the ultimate test: Would he prove his love by dressing as the teenage werewolf to my teenage witch, attending the 90s television event in full costume? Or would our relationship turn to dust, just as so many vampires have by the Slayer’s hand? Well, prove his love, he did. We even won the costume contest for dressing as Oz and Willow. 

While we knew the night would cement our love forever, we had no idea that we’d both also fall in love with show’s star, Michael Phillis. That night, we discovered that in every generation, there is a chosen drag queen. She alone will wield the strength and skill to take on the role of Buffy Summers and give Sarah Michelle Gellar a run for her money. Michael is that Slayer.

Recently, I was lucky enough to talk to Michael about the sweat, fake blood, and tears that went into making all four Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live! shows, which started their run back in 2016. For the first three years they condensed seasons one, two, and three into two-hour performances, and last year they took on the famous Buffy musical episode, Once More with Feeling. I also talked to Michael about what it’s like to be a struggling performer in an expensive city, how Buffy was actually a gay role model, and how you can survive the pandemic by running a mostly-naked carwash.

Michael Phillis, star of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live!, poses with the show's billboard in 2019 | Photo by Michael Phillis
Michael Phillis, star of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Live!, poses with the show’s billboard in 2019 | Photo by Michael Phillis

Thanks to coronavirus, Buffy Live!, which is usually held at a club called Oasis in San Francisco, will not be happening this year. In the End Times, you may be wondering, just as the Scoobies were in Once More with Feeling: Where do we go from here? Well, I say to go to OasisTV right now and watch every performance of Buffy Live! (start with season one) and read my interview with Michael here on the blog. The show is fucking hilarious and it’s inspiring to observe a cast so dedicated to both Buffy and the craft of comedy. It also gives Buffy fans something else to do other than count Nicholas Brendon’s laundry list of crimes and watch Sarah Michelle Gellar do repeated bits on Instagram about how she hates home-schooling her kids.

And now, without further ado, I present to you the talented comedic mastermind: Michael Phillis.

So, how did you end up getting cast in the role of Buffy? 

It was just like it was on the show. You know how Sarah Michelle Gellar was originally reading for the part of Cordelia Chase? Well, I was originally reading for the part of Cordelia and I got cast as Buffy. I didn’t know how to do Buffy, really. Cordelia was more obvious to me because of her bitchiness, her tone. Much closer to a gay man, frankly. I was a little hesitant to play Buffy because I had to figure out how to be dramatic and yet have fun around these serious lines.

What a gift it was when it’s all said and done. Buffy is totally my diva. I just never even dreamed, as a kid, that I would have the opportunity to play her. It was like a dream come true that I never dreamt!

So Long, San Francisco: The Hot Alien Migrates North

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Photo by Jessica Buckner-Knai

Today, I’m heading out. Leaving the San Francisco Bay Area. Hasta la vista, baby.

I don’t know exactly where I’ll end up, but I’m getting the hell out of California. Or rather, getting out of this fiery California hell. 

Surprised? Don’t be. It’s been a long time coming. The alarm clock has been going off for years telling me to wake up and get moving, but I’ve been hitting the sleep button. Chasing dreams.

The reality is that unlike Tony Bennett, my heart left San Francisco a long time ago.

But I’m ready to find it again.

Something tells me it’s hanging out somewhere colder, where the artists still thrive along with big, hairy cryptids.

You can find more details on the why of my move in The Bold Italic’s latest piece showcasing the departures of many disenchanted Bay Areans (scroll down to find my story at the bottom). The exact where of my move, however, remains to be discovered.

Stay tuned.

A Cryptid Playlist by Your Favorite Scum Princess

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Art brought to you by Rick Spears

In quarantine, you realize who you are. Steeped in the onion burrito scent of your own B.O., staring into a party sized bag of Cheetos, you’re forced to deal with your dark night of the soul. Who are you without the structure forced on you by your boss, your dad, your boyfriend, your gynecologist? You question everything you ever stood for and everything you believe!!! WHO ARE YOU?!

On the bright side of things, depending on your situation, self-quarantine might be good for you. The way an apple cider vinegar cleanse might be good. Or a colonoscopy.

It’s times like these that force me to come to terms with how many of my usual daily activities are unnecessary and frivolous. To decide what activities to keep and purge. Without the outside world interrupting your thoughts every five minutes to ask what size latte you want or what your major was in college, you can think.

This is the chance to discover how much of your daily schedule is dictated by the needs or wants of others. To find out whether you’re human waste waiting to be picked up and disposed of in what Mom, Boyfriend, or Janie from accounting has deemed your proper place. Or if you’re human waste that can sort itself!

Being a writer has made me a pro at being confined to one place for long stretches of time, but no more than a few weeks. The possibilities of extended isolation are endless and I’m looking forward to examining the results of this grand experiment. What a dream!

I could become anorexic or fat. Go so long without brushing my teeth that my throat hurts from the tongue residue. Realize which people I really miss and who doesn’t miss me at all. I may not be able to leave my apartment, but these are the psychological trips that money just can’t buy!

That said, over the last month my usual existential dread has transformed into a focused pandemic-dread, with not much room for self-reflection. Every once in a while between reading COVID-19 tweets, my throat will start to burn like there’s ash in it, and I’ll swear it’s coronavirus creeping, when really it’s just allergies that come with the miracle of spring.

They Are Already Here: A Journalist’s Close Encounters with UFO Culture

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Photo by Greg Rakozy

When science journalist Sarah Scoles was working on a few articles for Wired magazine, she was assigned the task of following up on a 2017 New York Times piece about The Pentagon’s “shadowy” UFO investigation program. The program was originally founded as part of the Defense Intelligence Agency, according to the story, and for years officials had been studying unidentified objects and aircraft. Scoles’ editor asked if she wanted to go out and confirm—or not confirm—what the New York Times found. While she had written a book about the science behind the search for extraterrestrial intelligence, she had never reported on UFOs. Moved enough by the opportunity, she told her editor, “Sure,” thereby sealing her fate.

It was this astronomical moment that lead to Scoles’ immaculate conception of a book now being birthed onto store shelves today: They Are Already Here: UFO Culture and Why We See Saucers.

The book chronicles Scoles’ encounters with the UFO phenomenon and the people who devote their lives to it. She rockets through both the weirdest and most rational of claims—picking up a series of warped puzzle pieces that may never fit into a logical explanation.

As a journalist who has covered various fringe beliefs myself, I reached out to Scoles to learn about her experiences and research, wanting to compare notes. So we got on the phone and shot the breeze about UFO facts, fiction, and the fantasy of ever finding the whole truth.