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

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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.

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sk8 boarding with a long board,
skateboard drifting
street art/stickers/graff/stencils
thriftin' and liftin'
asian cinema- particularlly korean films, movies from the 60's + 70's, screwball comedies of the 30s-40's, german expresionist film, horror and film noir, neo-noir, sci-fi particularly dystopias, self-reflexive film. film theory.
almost any genre of musics, particularly soul, r&b, jazz, blues, old, new and true school hip-hop, jump blues, jazz vocals, "incredibly strange music", "golden throats", odd covers, asian underground, cock rock, hair metal, j and k pop and hop, the "countrypolian" sound, rockabilly, surf, soundtracks and theme songs, swing, big band, lounge, tradional ez listening, bossa-nova, international pop.
subcultural histories. asian subcultures, american subcultures, historical tangents, politics,
gender theory, queer theory,
feminism, feminist theory, feminist film theory,
transgendered issues.

and welding! yay for OAW!!!!

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