Menstrual Monday Concerts

 

 

Still, it’s fun to think of a mosh pit that only menstruating women are allowed into…

 

I imagine a sort of Woodstock – let us call it Bloodstock – people dressed in shades of red, pink, brown and tan; costumes, hats, flow-dyed (or faux-dyed) t-shirts; leias of strung cranberries, baskets of pomegranates; “Faberge” tampons adorned with rhinestones and fake pearls.  Yoga lessons.  Tai chi.  And the hardest drugs you can find there are evening primrose and St. John’s Wort.

 

I make reference to Woodstock rather than Lilith Fair or other women’s music festivals, in order to heal from my own musical scar tissue – read I Need a Vacation from Gender for the details, if interested.  And then as a poet, I guess I’ve got a bit of a chip on my shoulder, when it comes to your typical “Son of Beatles” (as John Lennon put it) men’s band – I can remember pointing out to someone that poets rarely get paid, no matter how good they are, but bands usually do – and he practically yelled at me, that “they have to carry all that equipment in, you try lifting those speakers,” etc., making me wonder that, if it were true performing artists got “paid by the pound,” then perhaps I should bring a 200-pound opus to my next poetry reading, as well as my own set of speakers (in which I’d carefully hidden several lead bars.)

 

But, continuing on, they really didn’t have most pits back at Woodstock, did they?  Still, it’s fun to think of a mosh pit that only menstruating women are allowed into.  I guess I can remember back to my own difficult adolescence (Bloodbath) and how sometimes, caught unawares, I would bleed into my jeans during school…I imagine dozens of women dancing in a most pit, bleeding into their jeans…and then those stained jeans being washed, the stain not completely coming out, the stain a badge of honor, a status symbol:  “hey, I was in the mosh pit at Bloodstock…”  And besides, this would be the perfect way of testing out the hypothesis, that dancing makes cramps go away!

 

I have to admit, I’ve always found Jimi Hendrix’s solo version of the national anthem a bit…tedious…and I never really liked the original all that much anyway (I think it’s the “bombs bursting in air” part.)  But I think it would be great to get some of that sheer virtuosity going at Bloodstock.  Although poet Adrienne Rich writes in “Transcendental Etude” that she has “come to distrust” virtuosity, I still have a place in my heart (and ears) for a technically brilliant performance.  Bloodstock would certainly benefit from such “playful” competition.

 

…And in the spirit of playfulness, maybe at Bloodstock all the backup singers would be male, but the backup bands female.  Who says feminists don’t have a sense of humor?

 

“And a good time was had by all.”

 

Let the good times flow!

 

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