Scuttlebutt
a vocab word that’s a surprisingly modern practice.
Also, kind of about pirates. Sort of. Partially.
So I knew that the delightful-to-say word scuttlebutt meant to catch up on what’s happening. So like, if I were to ask you, ‘What’s the scuttlebutt?’ you’d then proceed to tell me the latest stuff that’s going on in your life. But you know what’s even more delightful? It actually means, more precisely: water cooler gossip. No, really:
A scuttle in nautical terms is a small hatchway. A butt is a cask or barrel, used to store liquids like beer, liquor, or water. And look how Irregardless Magazine sums up the scuttlebutt:
When you put scuttle and butt together you end up with ‘a hatched cask used for holding drinking water’. The scuttlebutt was typically placed at the poop deck of the ship for general use by crew members to gather and gossip around. And that’s where it took on its euphemistic meaning. It’s the sailor’s equivalent to water cooler talk.
How cool is that? And who knew that office culture has been at all influenced by Navy culture?
And now… Zuko’s Scuttlebutt!
I wanted to do one of those ‘rundown of my life right now’ type posts today and I thought that’s what ‘scuttlebutt’ meant originally: the news. What’s going on. The skinny. The down-low. The scuttlebutt. What I didn’t realize was that it actually means false rumors or gossip. Oops. But I can still picture you all gathered around the water cooler or the keg, talking about the latest shenanigans in Zuko’s World, regardless of the truth of it. So, here goes:
The Scuttlebutt (Zuko Edition):
The House!
This is the biggest and most central life thing going on with me right now, of course—the new house. The move itself, though remarkably smooth, was exhausting beyond expression, and the unpacking and arranging and discovering of 5 new things we need to get each hour that goes by is an ongoing process, also indescribably exhausting. And good god almighty do I never want to move ever again. Thankfully, that is indeed the plan.
A Room of My Own
I recently shared a Musing about this concept as I waxed wistful about the erstwhile Birdhouse and my upcoming move, so go there to see more about my excitement at having a space to myself:
This move is from a (lovely, roomy) apartment into a house. And in that house, I will have a little room all to myself, for the first time ever. Like, ever. So it’s not only A House of One’s Own but it’s a Room of One’s Own too.
Now, in my many young apartment days, of course it always necessitated roommates. Not that I never had a room of my own, but it was still such a communal living arrangement anyway. And then I did end up in those situations with a man living in my room a lot of those times anyway.
And so now I will actually have a room that’s entirely, not just for living in (the Birdhouse was an apartment that was an Abode of My Own), but a dedicated room only for my work and no one else’s. And not for everything, including eating and sleeping, as the Birdhouse was.
New traditions
My favorite new habit I’ve noticed so far in the few days I’ve been living in the house, is watching Bob Ross along with the real sunset. Over a nighttime treat. This will only be possible in the summertime, so I’m enjoying it as I can, right now.
And who knows how many old traditions from the apartment life will stay with us. If any. Like frequently going to CV: obviously I won’t be stumbling over there and back literally every day anymore, but it’s not really that far. A 10-minute uber ride. However, especially now I have a study, I have a feeling I won’t be going there much at all anymore. Which is good for my liquor-imbibing habits as well as my panting, thirsty bank account. I’m predicting it’s because, now I have a work space separate from the living room relaxation space, I won’t get cabin fever so often, needing to get the hell out of the house before I go crazy. There are many differently dedicated spaces here for different things, and so my brain (I predict) won’t get quite so putrefied and fried.
In fact, I went there the other day as Spouse was clearing out the last of the crap in the apartment garage, and it was…well I don’t know what to think about it anymore. Of course, I’m not distant enough from that habit to really have an opinion yet. I had a sort of phase 1 of feeling mixed about its changes, back when it first changed from IC to CV and before I could have known that only a few months later, we’d have bought a house and moved away. But it was already a little weird, even then.1
I fully expected I wouldn’t be frequenting CV as much as I had done IC, but honestly? The only reason I haven’t been there as often once they opened back up is because I was sick a couple times. In truth I find myself going over there just as much, and though many of my closest bartender-friends are gone now, the ones that remain feel like a small band of fellow warriors on the path, who’re still in it with me after surviving.
Yeah, not so much, now.
Bit-jiggling as a Hobby
Blue Dime Cabaret
Our latest Blue Dime Cabaret scuttlebutt includes the closing of our beloved speakeasy, Odde’s Lounge, and subsequent scrambling to find a new home turf. Funny enough, our Pride show (tomorrow!) will be held in the basement space of a Denver club called HQ. But the former owners of Odde’s have moved on to Chris’ brother’s whiskey bar, called Little Wolf, also in Denver, and we’re slated to bring our shows there starting in July. Don’t worry—I’ll be sure to write a Popination about it as soon as I experience it.
Kinky (Bikers) Boots
I have begun making regular appearances at the private parties of a local motorcycle club, who put on kink parties bimonthly surrounding the theme of BDSM, consent, and cigar-related kink. It’s a lovely group of weirdos and they’re some of the most respectful audiences I’ve ever jiggled my bits for. I was a little nervous when I appeared at my first event with them, just because it’s always a good idea to be hyper-aware when meeting a group of bikers for the first time, and also (and more to the point to me), I have had uncomfortably negative experiences working kink parties (as opposed to mere burlesque shows). I explain my exasperation and discomfort with one of these shows in Chapter 9 of my memoir, Next Time. It’s called ‘Kinky Boots’ and it goes into some detail, so. Check that out for more.
Teaching debacle, er, career, er, job
DU? I hardly know u…
I’m still teaching DU, still adjunct of course. And wow am I standing in the ivory tower and watching it crumble around my feet. Or, like, that opening scene in Pirates of the Caribbean where Jack Sparrow rides his sinking ship all the way to a last precise step onto the dock as the ship goes under. There have been several reconfigurations within the department where I teach, including the axing of graduate programs and eviscerating course lists. But recently the university proper has released a report running down the many merges of degrees and departments, and cuts galore…sheesh.
But anyway. I just concluded an Art Interpretation course and am just about to begin a course called Creativity & Innovation. Which is hilarious, because these classes are all online and asynchronous and I’m no longer allowed to create my own course materials. It’s funny, too, because the longer I work with these admin-supplied course shells, the more I’ve begun to notice that the assignment requirement descriptions sound just like AI prompts, not assignments the likes of which I’d give in a classroom (even an online one). And so when I notice further that there’s an AI tool embedded in each course in Canvas, and that student responses are beginning to sound just like a chatbot made them, I just have to shrug my shoulders. I don’t get paid an iota enough to try and do anything about that. All I can do is continue to make my class posts as human and personal as I can.
And then pop some popcorn to watch the whole thing implode.
The Book!
This is the other biggest life thing going on in my world right now: My book! Called Crowns of Gold, it’s my crowning achievement (see what I did there) of piratical adventure and thiefy heists, which I finished in grad school 25 years ago and which just this past December, was finally published!
At the moment, I am trying to sell the damn thing as much as possible, as it’s by a micropress and so my own publicity is most of how anyone is able to find it. So I share the purchase links far and wide,2 and also! I have set up a READING/SIGNING EVENT at beloved bookstore from my youth, Boulder Bookstore, one of the very highest quality indie bookstores in the country. I’ll be giving a talk, reading a wee snippet from the book, and signing copies on July 1st, and I’m frantically trying to gather a sizable crowd for this. Hopefully people will come dressed as pirates, too. I plan to. Anyway, spread the word, and if you’re in Colorado, come see me! Here’s the link for the event. And here’s a little promo video that BBS put up to help promote:
That’s About the Size of it
Thanks for peering into this window of my (admittedly interesting!) world. Sounds kind of exciting actually, now I’ve written it all down…
And I’ve discovered since that one of our beloved bartender friends from when it was IC is such a close neighbor to us now that she’s basically within walking distance! How cool is that? She’d left once IC switched to CV and we’d been missing her.