Back in the early 90s I was in an all dyke band in Albuquerque, New Mexico called Too F.I.N.E. Minds (F.ucked-up I.nsecure N.eurotic and E.motional). We were the only all queer and all female band in Albuquerque at the time. These were some of the most talented musicians I've ever known, and our chemistry together on stage was intoxicating for me. We had a large dyke and queer following who were super loyal and a blast to play for.
Off stage, we were like family, albeit, not always so functional. In 1995 we went on a 3-gig micro tour to the East Coast, where almost broke up at least 3 times. On the drive home from that tour, I was thinking about the internal struggles we had, and about how hard it had been and was becoming. While I was thinking and feeling into this, something inside me shifted, and out of nowhere an internal voice - clear as day- said to me "When you get home, you're quitting the band. In a year you are moving to San Francisco."
I immediately started crying. It was one of those private looking out the window cries, where the person driving doesn't know you're crying. I knew the voice was real and right and as much as I tried to argue with it, there was no turning back. I've had only a few moments like this in my life. I wrote about another moment like this in the Ace of Swords about coming out to my parents.
When we got home, I quit the band and began preparing myself for a move to San Francisco. It was not easy. I had never been to the Bay Area, I didn't really know anyone there, I had never lived away from home, I loved New Mexico, and I had a strong community and family that I had no desire to leave.
Young Frankenstein moment
This is the lesson of the Eight of Cups.
And now for some Too F.I.N.E. Minds: