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About Me....

um... who me? uh i guess i'm the lounge's resident tranny. old school bustie formerly known as butta.

my new {wo([manifest]o)}

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entry Oct 17 2009, 12:59 AM
the hardest thing about being a tranny, and there are a couple of them, is the need, the horrible craving for love. not just love but that need to be accepted and loved for who you are. think about it. most of us struggled with who we are, and this choice for us was not that. not a choice, it was, the thing you do because the only alternative is to kill yourself. i figured, standing on a chair, noose around my neck, tears down my cheeks, that i had nothing to lose. at the time that made sense.

but you start to realize later, after you've started to transition, you never knew how much you had to lose. the friends, the family, the pride, the pain, the love. that last bit is the funniest, the most ironic, the most fucked up too. because all you want, all you ever wanted was someone to love you for who you are, and you've been loved, or at least that facade that you created to hide who you really are-- that fake you-- was loved. that is the easiest part. but finding that love after you've started down this road is so difficult. but as i've said, you really never knew how much you had to lose. the first to go, most often is loving yourself.

i was hanging out with an old friend, an ex love today, she's opening a bar in less than a month, and i was doing odd jobs, painting and things for her, and it occurred to me that she was one of the first people to call me she. to honor that part of me, even though i was a boy at the time. along with the the girl i was dating, she held me together. she would constantly tell me i needed support. she would also tell me how beautiful i was when i couldn't see it. i suppose part of the reason i initially wanted to help her, was because she wanted me to dj at her bar, and she said she didn't mind training me to be a bartender. but when i was there, i realized, i wanted to help her, to be there for her, because i felt like i owed her. as i told her later, it was a small down payment on all the little kindnesses she had given me over the years, and there were countless kindnesses.

i have always suffered from depression, and she made me swear when we were closer that i wouldn't kill myself, because she didn't want me to leave this planet early. our connection has always been a strange kind of kismet, our paths, and even those of our mothers have probably crossed countless times, and 8 years after our accidental meeting, i would bet we have not, nor will we ever discover all the ways we are connected. it all sounds so overblown if you don't know the specifics. suffice to say, we met not in the state, city or even hospital that we were both born in. that same hospital where both our mothers worked. we didn't meet in the building where i spent countless hours of church in, that same building that would later be part of the school she would go to. no, we met in another state, at a mutual friend's going away party. a party that was on my block, and a block away from her apartment. she left the party because she was nervous, i left because i was tired, but she came back because of the guy she had a crush on, i for the girl i had a crush on. we only found out all those things we had in common later. but i can say, i would not be here had it not been for her. our relationship ended messily. so much so that i am still astounded that we are friends. i never meant to hurt her, but i did. it was not something i had much control of. but all the same, she always supported me.

we were sitting at that bar, talking about a mutual friend, r, who, in the last few years has started to transition. i have to say, i was not at my most kind. perhaps because i know that it could have so easily been me, had it not been for the women in my life. perhaps because i worked so hard not to go down this road so recklessly.

we had known that this friend was at least a cross dresser. her, (then his) femme side, j, would come out for hir birthday. r was married at the time. now, divorced, and unemployed, that femme side had come out full force, untempered by his wife, and it was not good. i'm tall. about 6' 1ish. r is 6' 6" ish, and as j, favored not just heels, but a rather rocky horror-esque wardrobe: fishnets, garterbelts, much too short skirts that barely covered her behind, and bustiers, often on a huge black motorcycle in broad daylight.

entry Oct 8 2009, 02:27 PM
it's been a weird year.

in some ways it's been fantastic, in others, heartbreaking. earlier in the year i was thinking about getting on anti depression medication, i've always suffered from depression. quite honestly i wear my heart on my sleeve. while i can be a tough nugget at times, i'm very, very easily bruised, and those bruises spread until they suffocate me. the summer was pretty good with a minimum of that sort of thing, but lately, the sads have been coming back.

most of my friends, people i know suffer from depression, but are on medication, and seem fine, but in the last month or so i think i've kind of decided against it. quite honestly, i like the comfort of the idea of suicide. some people will say that's the depression or me rationalizing, but the fact is, life is painful. and if things don't quite even out, why should i stick around. a girl i dated had a friend who was in many ways my stunt double commit suicide earlier in the year, about the time i had my last hardcore bout. he was a pharmacist, and simply took the proper drugs, went out to his truck, with some liquor and offed himself. she called me the day after i managed to cry myself to sleep instead of hanging myself. she told me how it felt like so many people she cared about end up dying. since she had been thru 3 or 4 funerals or calls about dead friends in the last 6 months before that. i didn't tell her that i was very close to being one of those phone calls.

those close calls are always the weirdest. the next day there will be some little tidbit, a table scrap, really, that makes you feel like sticking around was worth it. usually it's an illusion. kind of a way of telling yourself you should be happy you didn't off yourself. but really what's the difference? there will be highs, there will be lows, come se, come sa. really one is just as good as the other. really, is anything that follows really all that fantastic that it really was unmissable? i'd bet not. not that their aren't pretty wonderful things that can happen, but meh. they aren't all earth shattering, now are they? but why should they be? when the sads come on, it's not usually one thing, but the accumulation of a bunch of little things, and then that one that sends you over, it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. that little .00002 ounces that tip the scales. so why would the good times be anything but a bunch of tiny little happys? it's inconsequential either way. the only difference is the sads stick around a bit longer.

now, i don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, this ISN'T a cry for help. quite honestly, i'm gonna do what i'm gonna do, regardless of the kind words my friends tell me, the notes they send me, or whatever. how i feel is how i feel, and that really is going to be the thing that determines if i take a walk out that emergency exit door. i'm just sayin'. as usual i feel like exploring this, and i'm really not looking for a reaction, sympathy or kind words. i've had all of those. a friend of mine suggested that it would be painful, but after some research i've figured out a way to painlessly suffocate myself, with minimal pain. cost of supplies are roughly about $80 and could be obtained at a party supply store and a hardware shop. worse come to worse if i'm interrupted i'll be a vegetable with a voice like minnie mouse.... if i could talk. wink.gif

it used to be that i feared that i'd wind up in hell, all those years of going to church had literally put the fear of god in me, but of late, i've really shed so much of that Christian dogma. no, now the only thing that keeps me here is what keeps me here, having a half way decent day followed by another half way decent day, and so on. hell i've managed to drag myself thru this life to get to the ripe old age that i am, i figure either i'll feel good enough about things to click the [continue] button. if not? then i'll not. and i think that's the way it should be.

entry Jun 8 2009, 01:08 PM
letter to a boy who likes transexuals

this is a reply that i sent to someone who, i'll admit i have a crush on. he's a former graff writer, and sk8r, which, is enough to make me commence to drooling. he wrote me talking about how frustrated he was about his attraction to t-girls.

i can understand how your sexuality can be frustrating. but these things, they get worse when you try to go against the grain. the thing to do is to work at accepting yourself, and you desires. right now they are in the fetish stage for you. you crave t girls, but you beat yourself up for it. what you need to do is understand that that attraction is-- or atleast could be-- your normal, and that is a good thing. nature is a complex thing, but as westerners our urge is to put everything in a box, or reduce it to binary, either/or, black and white choices. what we forget, often times is not only are their greys, but millions and billions of hues-- variations on the themes. this world we live in is not simple, it is soooo wonderfully complex. that is not a bad thing, that-- that is a virtue. that is darwin's theory. it wasn't just survival of the fittest, it was variation as survival mechanism. variation of nature's beautiful work, the clockwork that makes this planet and all the creatures on it so fucking amazing!

yet so often, we are myopic, unable to see anything that isn't right in front of us. unable to grasp that bigger picture, that we are all part of this grand, living organism, in all it's different shades. that goes for me altering my body, and following it's lead, and growing in to me and you being attracted to people like me, and growing in that. there is no shame in that. only more beauty. we are only part of this lovely work, you and i, part of the wonders this life has to offer. so there is no point in griping, or beating ourselves up in the garden of earthly delights. no, it is so much better to learn to embrace it, and who we are.

as for me, and being comfortable with my sexuality, that, my friend is a learning process. you have to learn whose opinion matters, and whose doesn't. if it impedes you being happy, that opinion doesn't matter. i'm not saying it's easy, but you have to judge what is important to you. for me learning to be me, and growing comfortable with that is over riding, but one thing that you learn is that if you are comfortable with something it puts other people at ease. if you act like something is normal, others see it as normal. it is the putting of others at ease that is the art of it. i can't say i've got that art down pat, but i'm getting there. it's a learning process.

i think i understand why you are having a hard time with your sexuality tho. masculinity is a very funny thing. it's rules are enforced by peer pressure in many subtle, unconscious ways. your machismo is constantly challenged, what you need to understand is the ways that you are a party to this enforcement in others and yourself.

sorry if i get a little too gender theory heavy here, but i think i get where you are coming from. one of the things that helped me was "making space" for others to break masculine gender rules. so if some guy likes, say, pink, you can tease him about it, but at the end of the conversation, make sure he knows in your eyes it doesn't make him any less of a man, or your friend. in that way you slowly make space for others to do the same for you, and your attraction to t-girls. do you see? you put them at ease, and it lets you be at ease.

while i am here, i should explain something to you: i know that you might think that your attraction to tgirls might make you gay, but personally that never made sense to me. gay boys are not interested in t-girls. they like men. even if they like 'em femme, they don't care for all the "bells and whistles" that come with tgirls or women. you are part of an emerging sexuality-- one that is attracted to the female form but with the commonality of a penis. that is something new. you are a pioneer! unfortunately, that means you may have to explain things to your friends, and maybe lose some of them, and it's a cliche, but they really aren't your friends, because they don't make that space i was talking about earlier, for you to be you. seriously, what is friendship if it's not about making space for each other to be who we truly are?

anyways, i'm gonna climb off of my soap box. because i've given you plenty to chew on.


 | Category: film
entry May 29 2009, 12:38 AM

it may be difficult to understand the mechanics of the film without a synopsis one can be found here

one thing i always like is when the opening credits really set the stage for a film. the opening credits for irreversible certainly does that. it starts with the end credits, copyrights etc, and goes backward, words and letters backwards, practically illegible inspite of the bold typeface. just like the film, those credits slide out of control, angling, curving to the left before ending up horizontal. just like the camera work. the cinematography is something elsem and very complex. it's construction is much like the work of julian temple-- who did the film young americans and the janet jackson video, when i think of you. the editing is made invisible, so it looks like one continuous shot. from the first scene we are disoriented, the camera swoops, swirls, shows us things that make no sense. we see people upside down, flipping as if going down a drain. what's more it's progression going from dizzy making at the start, or end of the night to the conventional camera movement of the end/beginning of the story almost makes this a case for a decent into hell. as things spiral further out of control, the camera does more acrobatics, and when the two male characters draw closer to the club that will seal their fate, the camera likes to slide to one side-- and extreme dutch angle, as if they were walking down a steep inline. into the gates-- or rectum (the name of a club) of hell.

i'd been dreading watching irreversable-- the film is infamous for it's single take rape scene, but that is certainly not the most violent part of the film. although it comes pretty close. what's worse, when the violence gets really intense, the camera finally snaps into focus, as if that's what the viewer was waiting for. trust me, long before the rape scene, one is very tired of violence. not to mention any kind of sex-- the opening scene is related only in that it connects to the themes of violation, sex, and guilt, has two men talking, rather blandly about how one man raped his daughter(a bit of intertexuality here. he's a character-- and actor-- from another gaspar noe film, i stand alone, who has only the apt name, "the butcher."*), and now he can't forget it, while the other one jokingly tries to comfort him, saying "there are no bad or good acts, just acts." what follows, makes it hard to agree with him. but it does set up the sort of "play" that director noe is inflicting on the audience: balancing fatalism against memory. the strange thing is that irreversable's structure-- we see the whole thing backwards, like memento, each scene leading taking us back in time-- strangely blunts the violence. if that sounds like a cop out, i don't think that it is....exactly. instead of showing the scenes over and over visually, in playing the scenes backward, the viewer is forced to play the violence over in their head. if you've seen quinton tarantino's death proof, he did something similar, if more literal, (and a bit more sickening, if you ask me) in the first 1/3 of his film, showing the violence over and over and over, until it becomes unwatchable. unfortunately (or fortunately for the viewer), trying to keep up with the chronology can be a distraction, although something replaces the visceral immediacy of the violence once it's off screen: a fatalistic dread. this is where that playing the scenes over in your head comes in and bites you on the ass. as we pull away from the violence earlier in the film an arm broken, and a man's face smashed in (literally and quite graphically) by the blunt end of a fire extinguisher and towards the violence of the rape scene, violence upon violence piles up. it is only after that scene that we get some respite. i say some because, once we've arrived at the safety of "before" we start to see foreshadowing of the events that will conclude and destroy what was supposed to be a beautiful, happy evening. we see how all of the players played their parts, culminating in the trainwreck of destruction.

that fatalism, while it worked in memento as a device to ratchet up the tension in a noir mystery, in irreversable, it ends up relieving any of the characters-- including the rapist-- of any responsiblity. the whole thing was preordained, as the man in the room says, there are "just acts." one of the themes is that "time destroys everything" a phrase flashed at the end of the movie, and taken from a book mentioned by alex (played by bellucci). i can see how that might justify the backward sequencing, but it puts the emphasis on cause and effect, rather than choice, a strange way to go about making a film that has rape in it. is alex's rape the result of her sexuality and her display at the party or just a combined series of events? is it her independence for leaving the party without her asshole boyfriend, or just because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time? cause and effect in film implies that there is no choice in film, that the people populating the screen have no more choice that figures that zoom in and out of a cuckoo clock. yet, alex says, the woman always chooses. but then says everything is preordained. perhaps it's just my moralizing but in a film with such violence, it seems strange that the director seems to simply shrug. usually in a film on the subject of film violence, the viewer is solidly implicated. that holds true here, although i a strange, muted way. played forward, it would be hard not to be drawn to alex/monica belucci's sexuality, and that is the usual trap. the audience is drawn in by her beauty and seeing her objectified, and then the director springs the trap. it worked for hitchcock, and many other directors exploring this theme. noe, however does things strangely. we see alex briefly, in a classic horror film manner, shot from behind. a visual that implies vulnerability, the camera is practically stalking her. the voyerism/objectifying that implicates the viewer occurs after the rape filmicly; the viewer is rather dared to think of her as a sex object, although, technically, she's little else by that time in the film. she's barely been mentioned up until that point, and she isn't, as a character, fleshed out until we are well before the rape. infact, noe seems to make a point of her being a cypher the closer she gets to being raped. perhaps that is one of his points-- sex for men is objectification. none of the men seem capable of anything sexually without the objectification of the other. this is not a simple male/female equation, for noe, i should add. there is a subtext of brutish masculinity running thru the film, the men constantly question each other's sexuality, and variations on "faggot" are constantly hurled. the second scene in the movie takes place in a gay bar called the "rectum," where we see all manner of sex acts taking place, one man even asking to be fisted; the rectum is frequented by the rapist, aka le tenia (the tapeworm) is also a pimp, who beats his transexual prostitute, insists on raping belucci in the ass, and saying she has a "tight faggot ass"; a transvestite the men (alex's ex and current bf, pierre and marcus) meet while looking for the rectum insists he's not a faggot; the two pimps trying to get the men to help them find le tenia, finally convince pierre and marcus after insulting thier masculinity; and marcus (who mirrors le tenia in some ways); tells alex he wants anal sex. in noe's world, it seems, men are easily manipulated, will do anything to hold on to what little masculinity they have left.


i'm still mulling over irreversable. like inside it's one of those films that i love-- ones that require you to chew on for a while, that need a bit of wool gathering in order to pull apart. the more i do, however, the more i really admire/ respect what noe was trying-- and i think largely succeeds in doing. it is of course a film that is hard to digest-- it has the most notorious rape scene in film, and there is no mediation (cuts etc.) between it and the viewer. we are made to suffer thru it with alex, the female lead. but pulling back, the structure shows us something much more profound. if we take it that irreversable (film wise) starts-- in hell, having arrived there thru the "rectum" the club of brutality, a club of death, where everything, metaphorically turns to shit, a specifically male space, an exclusively evil, with a character from another film, one noe calls the most hateful, evil, self loathing, spiteful human being that ever lived, and then "count backwards", we end up, at the chronological start-- eden. with alex untouched, perhaps as a child, playing in the sprinklers, a specifically idyllic, female place, a place of life, and birth, having arrived via the home, a somewhat female space, indicated by the rather ham handed shot of a 2001 poster.

i should rewind. the auteur theory posits that with a film master, the films are solely her/his vision, their obsessions, granted, most films are too big for that to be literally true, but they are the person in charge, and if we are talking about an auteur, not simply a director, then this is certainly true. behind that theory is that for the purposes of story telling, that person, the director is god/dess, ruler and controller of the world/universe or all that he sees, and thru their control, we glean their message, or their world view.

now, keeping in mind, noe's subtitle for irreversable is, "time destroys all things," and if the metaphor is an allegorical look at human progress using the human body, which is more than plausable, thanks to "the rectum," the tunnel and our friend, the tape worm, la tenia, then what noe does in showing everything backward is not the act of vomiting up the bile he shows us, but rather, undigesting it. taking the proverbial bite of the apple and piece by piece restoring it, rendering the apple-- and the body, at least in his universe, whole. more than that, however, it is a rejection of maleness, and male violence. brutality for brutality's sake is found on the male half of the film. the center of the film is the rape, a metaphor of corruption, to be sure, but it is after this, the energy or world spins out of control, if we head cronologically, and the narrative decisively switches from the mostly female centered alex, to the masculine animal pack of the pimps, pierre, marcus. the tapeworm and the roman quorum/bathhouse of the fire extinguisher scene in the rectum. shown filmically, the tunnel is, as i have mentioned, where alex is reduced to object, to the point that she disappears from the film. it is only when we return backward chronologically, that her humanity, her complexity is restored, and she centers the film.

contrast that to the way it would have appeared had the movie been shown chronologically, she would have slowly been stripped of that humanity, reduced to voyeuristic object of desire. alex -- women--represent hope, joy, kindness and love in the film, and when she is 'snuffed' the same happens to the film. it is rather obvious with the rape being center, that this film is concerned with the corruption of women, but aside from the rape, noe shows us the corruption in other ways, the closer we get to that center, the more corrupt the women become too, going from alex's friend who is pregnant and very sweet, on to the women who dance with alex, to the coke sniffing drugged up women, to finally the prostitutes marcus toys with, to the one that tells alex, the tunnel is safer. once in the tunnel, there is a transference (pun intended) the woman le tenia is harassing symbolizes, that filmic shift i talked about earlier-- she is, as we found out earlier (chronologically backwards) that she is not just a prostitute, but a transexual. both male and female, but she falls on corrupt side of the story line, although she is still sympathetic, she too is a victim of male energy/hate, along with the other women on the corrupt side, but eventually, they too will disappear, and all that is left is male rage. here, the corruption is almost a cain and abel parallel, with pierre's jealousy of the "ape" marcus (and of course there is the 2001 reference again too, natch). so it makes sense that he bludgeons the man he thinks harmed alex, much to the pleasure of the other apes/men.

other notes: the boards on imdb are pretty repulsive, with lots of trolls (with names like pederasty) saying really fucked up things, but-- there is a very interesting post of someone who found steven hawking's take on the film, which falls in line with my take on it, using the auteur theory. [/color]

 | Category: life
entry May 25 2009, 09:40 AM
i've taken years to figure out what
method i'd use to kill myself. it may sound funny that it's taken me years, but i think this is the last one. i know how i'll do it. deciding to kill yourself is not something that you do on the spur of the moment, strangely.
it's taken me years
to learn the art of the fade:it's something you plan as the pain inside you grows
and now that i have my method, i can finally find peace.
where my voice sounds
like white out,
all words delete
pain is deaded
my features blur
relationships pixelate
and all that i am dilutes. i understand the people who have killed themselves. this overwhelming. and i won't be missed, not for long. i will fade, as i've been doing for years, and i can't wait to be free of this life, this pain.
it's my secret power,
a slight of hand,
my jedi mind trick
you don't even know
is working on you.
and even if you did
would you care? and why should anyone care? the world doesn't stop when someone important dies, and it won't stop when i go either. so the method:helium suffocation.
the funniest part is
it takes so little effort disposable helium tanks are easily to find. i'd think that walmart carries them.
to distract you
a bit of misdirection
to edit things out helium, unlike most canned gasses has no oxygen so if inhaled one can breathe, but you suffocate.
and you don't recall it starts with getting high, then dizzyness, disorientation as brain functions shut down.
anything that happened. it's like going to sleep. if i miscalculate i'll end up a vegetable, so win/win.
the plan is to dose myself with liquicaps. when i get sleepy, i put on the gas mask and turn on the gas.
that's it's charm: it's simple. painless, and the parts are easy to obtain.
life's clockwork
gears grind and blind
and you never stop
to look back
and even if you did
would you care?
i can have a tank + gas mask delivered to my apartment, and next time my bones ache, then i'll just fade. this is my last year! yay!

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sk8 boarding with a long board,
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