Beefcake? Cheesecake? There’s cake? What?
Originally uploaded by fit of pique.

I was asked by a friend to send a recent pic of myself, so I fiddled around with the self timer on my new camera and came up with this beefy cheesecake photo. Forgive the white balance problems, I’m still learning my new camera. I also made my first packer last night, because usually I use bananas or socks, and I wanted to try something different, so I did the hair gel – condom – sock thing, but after being in my pants for a while it sprung a leak. I’m still woefully unable to do packing with dildos, because I have no idea how an erection fits into pants, and besides that it’s awkward and obvious. There really should be an FTM group in this town, but I haven’t heard of one yet.

This picture might get me into trouble, for really dumb reasons. I’ve always been a rather sexual person, even when I’ve been celibate, but Post-Diagnosis suddenly ALL sexuality that I have gets attributed to mania. Bipolar individuals sometimes go through periods of extreme concupicense (that’s a medical term for horniness) and so of course, like most other “behaviour” we engage in, it’s been pathologized. So I tried to be a “good” girl, ie, sexless and everything that psychiatrists and “caregivers” want the mentally ill to be, but dammit, I like fucking, like most people, and I don’t see why I should have to turn into a school marm just so people don’t start commenting on the possibility that I am entering a hypomanic phase.

Really, having periods of intense sexual desire is probably one of the more fun aspects of what has been called bipolar disorder. But beyond that, it’s just who I am, even before bipolar reared it’s ugly head. Some people have tried to say because I’m queer I think about sex so much, while others have tried to say it’s because I’m a sex addict (which is really silly because I haven’t had nearly as much sex as even the average person). The truth is, I think I’m so sexual because I’m Cree.

It’s true. Cree women are the only people who have consistently scandalized me and made me blush. If you want to hang around sex radicals, go make friends with Cree women. I’m not saying brown women are all trampy, at all, because that’s just creepy. And there are a number of Cree women who are school marm types. But still, raunch-o-rama! I won’t even get into the Rolling Head stories, but suffice it to say Cree culture has some very heavily sexual stuff going on in it. I like that. The sad part is that some goddamn colonialists came and raped most of our children, so the sort of outre sexual culture of Cree life has been demolished.

I am trying to reclaim it. I don’t particularly give a fuck if you want to fuck me or not when you look at this picture. Most people won’t, because most people have their own particular “types” or things they are looking for in sex icons and partners, and I don’t care if a 220lb butch dyke/transfag isn’t in their personal sexual iconography. But I’m in someone’s personal sexual iconography, so I made this image just to see if I could lure that person into my life, whoever they are. It’s for that one person, or a few persons, that I’m standing in my bathroom in a bra on a blog.

Mostly I made this for Valentines Day though. And mostly, since I am single, I just made this for me. So many people are getting upset over the sexuality of young females right now, including other women who identify as feminists. I don’t think anyone has any right to critique someone’s elses sexual self-expression. So girls are dirty dancing and taking the romance out of oral sex, whatever! Maybe that is an important evolutionary step in young female sexuality. My only concern would be that heterosexuals are emerging as the #1 HIV risk group and are still being tragically unaware of this fact. Globally 70% of HIV transmission is through heterosexual sex, and living in a developed nation isn’t a barrier to the virus.

But you can have healthy, safe, sexuality, and that doesn’t mean you have to be a schoolmarm or wait until you get married or anything like that. I think people should embrace whatever level of sexual activity they want to engage in. Just learn how to protect yourself.

And now I have to apologize to all the “schoolmarms” out there. As a matter of fact, the friend who brought me into the BDSM community when I was a baby perv was a schoolmarm.

It’s funny, I actually was just going to say Happy Valentines Day in the text of this blog, and instead I went on a defensive tangent around the viability of female sexuality. Happy Motherfuckin’ Valentines Day.

End of Anniversary

The 4 year anniversary of my release from St. Luc Psychiatric Ward passed uneventfully this last weekend. I didn’t say anything about it because when I got out I was too busy being enthralled with this thing we call life and freedom, and so I wasn’t thinking much about the hospital at first. I was too busy relearning how to take care of myself and what it means to walk around the city on my own, choosing food on my own. I was still living in grinding poverty though, and went back to living on tiny amounts of instant foods like ramen noodles and tea.

So again, I want to wander off and do some non-disability related thinking for a little while. Sometimes I really need to remind myself that I am infinitely more complex than just a person with a disability and that all the other parts of me deserve their own time and space. On professional and political fronts I’m doing a lot of work around finding funding or educational space to explore themes of bioanthropology and mental health alternatives. On a more personal front I’m starting to explore my “gay male” sexual identity, which is kind of like trying to put a messed up ball of yarn back together. The frustration comes from the fact that it’s still largely theoretical and that I have made the decision to abstain from male hormone treatment, for various reasons, mostly having to do with not wanting to shave. I’m not sure how to step into that side of myself, and neither do I want to leave the lesbian side of myself. So again, I’m struggling with issues of duality which one would think I would have a leg up on, being biracial, but no. I’m kind of just keeping my eyes open for trans-friendly queer guys. Believe it or not, men only space is also freaking out about transfolks. Transphobia, it’s not just for the ladies. I keep reading Pomosexuals, mostly because it’s the only thing in my bathroom, and I keep feeling reassured by the complexity of many other queer experiences. I think I will probably roll around with another transguy, but who knows, I just don’t want to try having a fun time with someone who’s suddenly going to get upset over my female body and run around washing his mouth out with poppers.

So I’m doing fairly well really. A lot better than I was before January 5. This coming weekend I will be doing The Burn of my stuff, which will be good for me. And plus I have more phone numbers of my friends, which I had lost, and so that makes me happy.

Geneology

I’ve been reading more about the DNA testing the Genographic project is doing. Apparently my own DNA swab will only tell me about my mother’s mother’s migratory history. Which kind of sucks because I want to know the aboriginal history, and my maternal Grandmother is totally white!!! So if I want to test my three other recent ancestors, I have to coax DNA samples out of my Dad, my Aunt or Grandmother on his side, and my Grampa or Uncle on my mum’s side.

But Gramma’s side is interesting too. She’s a Lennan, by way of Scotland, she was a first generation Canadian. Lennan is not a misspelling by the way, and apparently one of the reasons the name is dying out is because government officials and teachers keep trying to replace it with a more English sounding variation, like Lennon. John Lennon, incidentally, might also be related to my Dublin ancestors.

Dublin. I was surprised. But there you have it, the name comes from Ireland, and there was a Scots-Irish marriage in our history. We also have an Orangeman way in the past. The irony of that is that my Gramma’s Anglican, which is also known as the Church of England, or could also be called Catholicism Lite.

My contemporary Scots relatives live in the small town of Wick in Northern Scotland.

Lennan, in the original Gaelic spelling, was Ó’Leannáin. And then, well you know, the English wanted something they could say. Kind of like my real Cree family name, which was actually just one individuals name, is Kiskicici, but got turned into Cuthand. Cuthand is a mistranslation, because the literal translation of Kiskicici is Frozen Fingers. We didn’t even have last names normally, that was a product of colonialism. And Frozen Fingers wasn’t my great grandfather’s adult name, that was his baby name, which normally got changed into something else later on depending on his individual personal history.

Genetic ethics. Did you know some of your genetic material is patented? Some of the controversy around projects like the Genographic project is bioprospecting. Currently the gene pools of Iceland and Estonia are patented. Here’s a clip from the Corporation on gene patents.

My favorite scene from Trainspotting, on Scottish Nationalism.

Genetic Testing late 1970’s

The irony of the who genetic testing quandry is that my mother,father, and sister’s genes have all been analyzed way back in the late 70’s, when it was becoming obvious Sky wasn’t like the other babies. And she has a rare syndrome too, she was almost going to make her doctor have something he could name after himself!! Seriously. It was a notable case back then. We still really don’t know much about her particular syndrome, which is why I don’t pretend to know everything about what her experience is like. There aren’t many people like her in the whole global population. So yes, my immediate families genetic material has been floating around the scientific sphere for almost thirty years by now. I don’t know what research has been done with it since.

I think I have to do a project about it all now.

My little Time Immemorial Genome

So I guess you’ve heard by now about African American celebrities getting their DNA tested to find out where in Africa they come from. It turns out they were doing it in a sort of publicity kick off for the Genographic Project, a mass collection of DNA samples to chart human migration throughout history. For $100 American you’ll be sent a scientific Q-Tip with which to swab the inner cheek. After sending it back they’ll delve into the mysteries of your DNA and tell you where you come from. As research progresses you can periodically log into National Geographic and find out more about what your genes tell them.

Cool! I thought. A chance for me to do some CSI roleplay, AND find out about my migratory history. And so I was all set to start a genome testing piggy bank for my own “Participation Kit” when I found out that there are Aboriginals here in North America who are very against having our genomes tested in this project. They’re calling it Biocolonialism, dear god, something out of Bladerunner. They’ve called for a total ban on any north american Indigenous person submitting their DNA for testing.

Nearly 3/4 of my DNA is Cree, which means I’m not supposed to submit to a cheek swab. Oh no!!! But I really want to!

The rationale for this is kind of interesting. Basically, in an attempt to win land claims rights, we’re really pressured by the courts to prove we’ve been here since “Time Immemorial.” And it’s kind of true that if white people hear we’ve been here for 10 000 years rather than since the first fish grew legs, then they kind of dismiss us being First Nations and having rights to the land. Well we’re still First Nations in that we were here first!! Gah! So a lot of activists have shot down all kind of migratory theories, like the Bering Strait, out of sheer terror that to admit we haven’t been here since before the dinosaurs then we’ll lose more land rights.

So a lot of stuff about who we are has been covered up by how political my little genome is. And people still think the land grab of what is now Manhattan was a funny thing, which is REALLY dumb because all of Manhattan is cursed because of that land grab. I’m not sure why white people think the colonization of a people is funny. Anyway, my point is we have crap land rights right now anyway, and personally I don’t really think disavowing scientific study of our history, within ethical limits, is a useful political strategy. Yeah, fucking around with people’s remains is creepy, things should be respected, but my DNA, really, has been spinning around in blood tests on a routine basis for four years anyway.

If I hear the phrase “since time immemorial” one more time I’m going to vomit.

All that phrase really means is “We’ve been here longer than we can remember.” But somehow it’s been translated in political thought into “Yeah, my kookum’s kookum’s kookum used to cook trilobites with Saskatoon berries out by where they’re building the new Walmart.” Unreal!

Truth be told, from my understanding North American Indigenous people include refugees from various continents who just got here a really long time ago. Some theories suggest Olmecs were descendents of refugees from the Shang Dynasty. There are rumours of Egyptian artifacts found in the Grand Canyon area.

Like, take, for example, the Mongolian Spot. Why did I have it? What does it mean that certain groups get mongolian spots at birth? Do we all come from one area a really long time ago? I’m curious. Is there any truth to the Bering Strait theory? Are we Asian? I mean, I have the same eyes as Asian people, I’ve been mistaken for Asian by Asian friends. People in Chinatown used to be friendly to me because they thought I was Asian. I know I’m not Asian, at least, not in any “Yes, my grandmother was from the Phillipines” kind of way. What does it mean that the really old Cree men have brown eyes rimmed with blue?

And so I still want to get the kit. And then I wonder, am I betraying the current political wishes of my people? But what right do they have over what I can do with my genome? And what will it mean to have my DNA sitting in some lab at the National Geographic? I can only test either one parent or the other, so now I also have to decide between my mom and dad, and that’s just awkward. I might do both.

Which also brings in the issue of my mom and dad also being tracked in the National Geographic database, not officially, but that’s their genetic history. So non-consensual. But then it’s my genome.

My genome’s nobody’s genome but mine.

God it’s a wild and woolly ethical problem. The thing is, I don’t trust over half of the Indigenous leadership anyway. They have a tendency to continue colonizing us. Not all of them, but enough of them that I’m a rather suspicious person. So in the end it really is my own private DNA, but now it’s being held hostage in a time immemorial land rights show down. Goddammit!

Barbara Kruger was right, my body is a battlefield!

And now for a fun distraction from Margaret Cho:

My Puss – Margaret Cho

update: I can only test my mom’s line. Maybe my father is relieved now.
Oh yeah, and here’s a link to an article about some people in China trying to find out if they really are Romans.

Burning Man 2007

I’ve decided to go to Burning Man after all this year. It’s about time. I’m kind of intimidated by the strict rules involved in living in a self sustained, isolated community in a location with no resources. But I’ve known people who go, and they’ve been putting my fears at ease about attending. I think it will be good for me, just be around art and artists. Someone told me not to worry about making an installation or art intervention or anything my first year out there, because there’s tons to do anyway. So I think I’m just going to spend some time making my bike into an art bike of some kind. I want it to be kind of like a wind instrument when I ride it, like have some kind of flute like pipes attached to it. But with the ability to turn it off. I guess I need a concept. And it has to be a decent musical instrument, not something embarrassing that makes me look like Pocahontas with her indian flute music soundtrack. Oh man, that would suck. I mean, it would be really funny in an ironic way about the depiction of aboriginals, but I don’t want some white person to think I’m serious. Dammit.

So yes, art bike. I don’t really know much about stripping down and rebuilding a bike’s skin, so it will be kind of a nice thing to learn. It’s a crappy bike by the way, the seat I bought for it costs more than the bike itself, it’s a garage sale bike. Hmm. Now I have to think about what a bike could be. I could make an s/m bike. Just get shiny chrome rivets and some kind of weatherproof leather-like material or rubber or something. A pervert bike. That could be fun to make. The seat already has a kind of vaguely BDSM air about it. I could make real leather floggers for the handlebars instead of pom poms. It could be fun. Maybe I’ll go sketch around with that until I figure it out.

And the bike was already black and blue.

DSCN0016
Originally uploaded by fit of pique.

I know he’s out of focus, but this is the best pic I got of him head on. This is Schrodinger, he’s almost a year old, and he’s still an asshole. He’s a descendant of run of the mill barn cats from the country. He’s really pretty, as you can kind of see, and it means he gets away with terrible things just for being pretty. He’s a bit of a bully, he’s beaten up every animal in this house, including my mom’s golden retriever. He also goes food bowl hopping because he suspects everyone else’s food has to be better than his. He also eats bread, and dog biscuits, and Cheezies.

RSCN0037
Originally uploaded by fit of pique.

This is the infamous weiner dog Mister, running away in a huff under the couch. He’s my alarm clock, besides doing a bunch of amazing tasks. He’s pretty funny. His new way of waking me up is to lie against my head and slowly spin around like he’s on a rotisserie. His fur is kind of high maintenance, but spending fifteen minutes everyday brushing him out is a nice activity. He’s basically a long canine swiffer, as you can see, so he picks up all kinds of crap. He also steals wallets.

DSCN0099
Originally uploaded by fit of pique.

This is my sexy industrial, it has a bump but it will be okay. I got obsessed with it when I was on mushrooms. It’s one of my favorite piercings just because it looks so ferocious and made me almost pass out later on when my body went into shock. It’s kind of out of focus again because I was holding the camera. You can kind of see my lobe stretching. It’s 8g, on it’s way to 0g.

DSCN0156
Originally uploaded by fit of pique.

So this is me with the new camera, doing the bathroom mirror self portrait thing. I’m listening to my iPod. The mirror is dirty. I’m writing this from flickr and feeling annoyed, but this is me and the tiny camera. More pics soon.