Cimorene

I watched a movie called Goodbye Charlie (1964) last night that was UNCANNILY similar to classic Popslash Explosion -era (ca. 1999-2001) Woke Up Magically with the Reproductive Physiology and Visible Secondary Characteristics Associated with Femininity fic (the fandom term for which used to be sex-or-gender swap-or-switch, and at some point progressed to genderfuck). This era in popslash was seminal to the development of modern media slash fandom and was probably the single strongest contributor to the next phase of development of this trope and its variants. (Citation needed, but source is that I was there reading in most of the major trending media slash fandoms of the time.)

SO ANYWAY this is the first movie I've found that is this close to the fandom template! A lot of people like to point to Star Trek's original series as the source of various tropes, but this is a exception. There is a classic episode of TOS where Kirk is trapped in a woman's body, but ( it doesn't fit ). I've always figured this one didn't have any real parallels in movie and tv! So I was pretty surprised to find even this much.

Here's a summary of Goodbye Charlie (1964, dir. Vincente Minnelli, starring Tony Curtis, Debbie Reynolds and Pat Boone), adapted from George Axelrod's 1959 play Goodbye, Charlie: ( Read more... )

But in spite of obvious differences, there are a lot of similarities to this particular early generation of gender-stuff fic:

• The transformation serves the purpose of teaching a lesson related to gender (albeit not the same one as in fanfiction): check


• Exploiting for humor scenes of the character in the "female" body participating at least briefly in objectification of other women: check


• The affection and attraction between the transformed character and the BFF is addressed, resisted, and then develops past the resistance: check


• The "female" body affects the transformed character by making them open to, curious about, and apparently happy to enjoy the actual transformation into a SUCCESSFUL feminine body inhabiter (ie recognized as a sexy woman by all who behold them, having mastered the art of... essentially... drag, ie the performance of glam hyper-femininity): check


• A further transformation removes the inconveniences/impossibilities posed by romance with the transformed character: check (usually in slash this is a transformation back to their original body, but with a new awareness of gender and sexuality)

time crunches in general and betaing for other people in particular both make me want to write more myself. for the past week i've been switching off between kessie's latest ambitious undertaking (i've been waiting a while for more tezuryo futurefic like this! and the ending ♥), and elfiepike's painstakingly-nursed magnum opus (not yet posted, but delightfully working-titled "no clothes for ohno" ♥!). all that combined with running errands and to and from school has resulted in little time for writing, which is probably the cause of the inspiration i've been feeling (that and new fandom joy). in fact, when i was trying to reward myself for a beta draft finished by writing a mini-scenelet-dribblet response to the last mago mago i watched, it turned into a 1300-word short-short story instead. the exhilaration!

now i feel creative in other ways too. i could sketch something. i would love to paint some chairs, though we have no sandpaper and paint, and have not yet been brought the new chairs wax agreed i should paint. i have been thinking about altering my jeans and a brocade waistcoat and hemming up a corduroy skirt (it's mainly the consideration of winding the bobbin first which is stopping me in these cases). i am feeling the urge to buy some of those paper-thin throwaway-cheap white canvas sneakers and colour them with my rainbow sharpies. also i keep wanting to cut my hair again; i like how it looks, it's true, but i don't like how it keeps getting in the way.

wax and i were talking last night about popslash and how the other bands in it were kind of lame compared to nsync, mainly because they were just sort of riding the wave as she said, or beta groups compared to nsync's alpha group as i said. no album has ever outsold no strings attached, according to my better half (a fount of trivia ♥), and most likely none ever will because (she read in an essay recently) the nature of the music market has been changing since then and is changing ever more, and today's pop superstars aren't as big because of interests and genres splintering. i remember when nsa came out; there was nsync fever in the air. i could catch "bye bye bye" on the radio twice in a single drive across town and it was never enough. those people who sneered at pop music (there were more of them back then at the height of the pop craze, as so astutely noted by nsync on their next album) still knew the words and the tune. most of them still hummed it. the high point of junior prom was when the five coolest guys in school performed the "bye bye bye" dance impromptu in the middle of the dance floor, tuxes and all, and the whole school crowded around them cheering and shrieking with delight, shoving each other and climbing on each other's shoulders to get a better view. that summer there were life-size cardboard cutouts of britney in mcdonald's, and she may've been the biggest female star of all time but she was only slightly above the status of their opening act even after the release of "...oops! i did it again". (if nsync are the beatles, does that make you yoko ono? britney: "who?")

in other pop nostalgia news, madonna and her peeps have designed a chunk of h&m's fall line and every time you walk in h&m they're playing an all-madonna-all-the-time career-spanning mix. if they were selling it as a promotional cd i would certainly buy it: my last two shopping trips have been full of "what's this? it's awesome!" and "oh my god, the original version of papa don't preach!" and "what it feels like for a girl! i remember this video!" and "ahhh, that frozen song! hey, i remember when this album came out!" and "that's right, madonna did a cover of american pie! MISTAKE! but i'd still listen to it!" and "eee, like a virgin!" if anyone has a bunch of madonna lying around... *cough*.

rms #1 and #2 (is this like thing one and thing two?) thought that the "dessert bar" listed for dinner on the menu was a joke. but NO! ooooooooh. there were. raspberry squares. coconut chocolate caramel squares. pineapple upside down cake. german chocolate cake. black forest cheesecake. cheesecake with cherries, cheesecake with peaches on top. little cookies. oh. ooooooh.

<--experiencing paroxysms of ecstasy in memory

<--greatly desires her mom's tabbouleh. tabbouleh, i swear, is the food of the gods. in the next non-star trek story i write, which MIGHT occur in the next two weeks (knock on desk), the main characters are going to make tabbouleh together, and debate the concentrations of olive oil and lemon juice, and chop onions and argue about the word "julienne" and just generally be sweetie-heads. the only question is: orli/viggo or dom/billy?

decisions, decisions.

in other news, ran into frog boy in the cafeteria with... *drumroll* who? no, guess! yes! that's it!

smudged eyeliner + tangled pony tail girl! you win the year's supply of dental floss AND the crocheted bathtub. [edit: and guess what he said to her? no, you won't, so i'll tell you: "i don't even care who gets to be on top tonight." whew. it was funny. you would have to see the utter geekiness of frog boy to understand, perhaps.]

i was highly amused.

[edit: also saw a joey-lookalike in the caf., and i didn't even know it was joeymonth as of tomorrow. was not, however, particularly excited. eh. where are the chis-lookalikes???]

i have not done my homework.

blargh.

i am surely not so lame as to be mentally mixing j pop with american pop country in my head?

<--ack. run away. run fast.

but it sort of sounds good--that's the scary part--why do i always seem to go insane around, oh, 10 pm? hey! *idea strikes cim with enough force to injure* maybe it's a sign that i am not getting enough sleep?

<--and i am DEFINITELY not thinking about downloading mixing software so i can do it. *whimpers* help me!

i need to write.

but i can't until i read language: introductory readings and northanger abbey. also, should probably finish babel-17 and re-read the two towers. and my star trek iv novelization is staring balefully at me, too. look, i'm going to eventually write it! maybe i'll just do it now and make it short, get it out of my hair? not until i finish at least another chapter of the linguistics text.

goddammit. have to work tomorrow. ickbleh. ugh. blargh. nerble.

also. lucy making fun of lyrics. "up against the wall." exactly. and everyone knows chris's nickname is "shorty." i mean, it's not like this is a secret.

but the problem is that it was obviously justin who lusts for chris. i can't believe she didn't get that.

is he actually going into space? did it cost $20 mil? how? and uhm...

why? ...besides the lifelong dream thing ...because that's so. uhm. loser.

lance: now, what's the most annoying way i could waste $20 million?

[edit: OK, not THE most annoying.]

"Justin was at a party once, some sort of reception for yet another escaped nobleman who'd arrived in the city bearing nothing but a now-worthless title, and oranges were served. Everyone exclaimed over them, and the air was full of their smell.

Justin didn't touch them. "

""Fine, don't move then. I was just--" Lance broke off, cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Will you ever tell me about him?"

The two of them were in Lance's kitchen. Morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows, hitting the icon that hung over the sink. Justin could still only bring himself to look at it briefly, and mostly not at all.

"No," he said."

proschai, by amber. a shimmering, glowing star in the nsyncau firmament, to mangle a quote from my favorite movie.

sequel to ledischka.

just, oh, god

<--wordless... my mouth is open and i haven't finished the story yet. haven't cried but my eyes keep stinging. i keep fidgeting and the skin on my back keeps prickling, the way it does when a plot-story-character has me by the throat. i can't move, pinned in place and if i struggle i bleed.

e, let me go. *soulful hobbit eyes.* why didn't you tell me you had stories up???

the beauty is overflowing. you write the kinds of stories that i turn my eyes away from, that make my face feel foreign to me, and lips heavy with suspense.

and there are just--flashbacks. justin. why isn't he really like this? and chris, and the snow imagery, *whimper*--you keep shaving closer and closer to the bone of the essence of the themes you're writing about, leaving the edges and the parts that could have been there out so it's blindingly clear. few people come so close to expressing an idea so thoroughly and so indirectly and--gulp.

whew.

cimorene111: brian: what does this mean?
cimorene111: nick: what?
cimorene111: brian: "the feeling i need to walk with"?
cimorene111: kevin: *sarcastically* i don't know, that he's going to walk with a feeling?
cimorene111: nick: who gives a shit?
cimorene111: brian: but what's it talking about? how do you walk with a feeling?
cimorene111: nick: can we just sing?
cimorene111: kevin: aj isn't here.
cimorene111: nick: what the fuck, man, i'm going to get high. call me when you're ready to sing.
cimorene111: brian: but...
cimorene111: kevin: well, we know what feeling he needs to walk with.
cimorene111: howie: hi. everyone forgets me. because i am unimportant. ignore me.

i have halfway finished with arkansas in the slash across america thingy. it is chris/justin... not jc/lance. i just couldn't bring myself to do it. don't think i am going to use the drunk! thing after all. but anyway, yes! i can finish it tomorrow and start she-ra!

they're so so so so cute. mwah. don't you want to kiss chris and justin to death???

okay, so i got the colors down, yet i still have v. little to say. hey, holls should get one of these. i already wrote in my real diary today... so... yeah. anyway. i just reread silvia's gorgeous "till the sun breaks down" today. i really want to say i cried, but that's a slight exaggeration. i never cry in books, not since i read mercedes lackey's magic's pawn in third grade or so. (haha--the kernels of slash!) anyway, i came as close to crying as i ever do. and then i read amber's america story, "everything," and now i want to write one too. i want arkansas. dammit.