Down Town East Side Eagle Feather

It has been a long time since an eagle feather came to me. The last time, and first time, I was walking along the beach with my mother when she found a golden eagle feather. It was truly majestic, and she gave it to me. I was probably thirteen or fourteen.

As you know, it’s illegal to kill eagles, so getting a real eagle feather is a pretty special thing.

Present day life in Strathcona, I go on a very long voyage on foot to buy pot for a friend, I wind all the way through the hinterlands of East Van, down Commercial Drive, up to a street corner where I meet the dealer who has been developing a rather amusing infatuation. Then I hop on the Freetrain back to my neck of the woods, risking a fine just because my feet are tired. I arrive back at the apartment building, when what do I see, but an eagle feather. Not majestic, but noble nonetheless.

We have a pair of bald eagles in the neighborhood, so it could have come from them.

Or, as my friend pointed out, fallen off of some Indian.

Either way, a sacreligious reward for walking so far, mighty halfbreed, to score drugs.

I choose today to blame it all on my Saturn Return

I only clean when people visit me. How strange. Like, I can live in a sty, but visiting folk cannot. Anyway, there’s not really much to tell about my life. Or maybe, there is stuff to tell and I just don’t wanna. I think it’s my Saturn return. It’s kind of interesting anyway, to me, not necessarily other folk. I feel poised to make massive changes in my life. I don’t know that they would be changes anyone would notice though, except for me.

Since going a little loco at the end of last semester, I’ve been on an anti-depressant and my mood stabilizer and my anti-psychotic, and I haven’t been terribly depressed since. I’ve felt way more hopeful about life. This whole unemployed thing is a freakin’ nightmare, but I know somehow I’ll end up in the right job.

******************living kitchens*******************************
My fridge breathes. It’s true, ask Lynn. Every few hours it lets out a great sigh.

Lynn (my neighbor) has dirty dishes. Once I was visiting her and I heard moans and creaking bed noises and it was coming from her kitchen sink! We just call them the dirty dirty dishes.
*****************end***************************************************

I haven’t cried in a very long time though, and that unsettles me. It’s like, crying is a focused expression of emotion, it’s kind of a religious experience really. And it’s healing. And I just haven’t cried about anything in a long time, whereas before I could cry at the drop of a hat. I don’t know which is worse. I miss crying.

That all being said, please don’t go out of your way to make me cry. That would annoy me.

I finally have a happy dream to tell you about. My mentally handicapped sister had her 30th birthday party and I missed it, which was sad. But I dreamt that I was there, and the whole family was there, all dressed up. And somehow my sister had connections with the millitary, so they flew in fighter jets across the sky and dropped all these little toys, like swimming noodles and those punch balloons. And my job was to go gather up all these little toys for her.

So I think when I have some money, I’m going to go down to the toy store and buy her a bunch of goofy toys she would like. And marshmallows, because she loves marshmallows. All kinds. There’s this really yummy kind she likes that has toasted coconut on it.

Job Hunting and Gathering

“A BFA, what kind of a job can you get with that?” my cousin scoffed.

It is true, BFA’s, or as they are affectionately known, “Bachelor of Fuck All”‘s, are a whole lot of work with dubious credentials at the end. But surely a major in Film/Video must add up to something. Dear god, all that learning how to use equipment I could not afford.

Anyway, there’s a job opening as a technician at ECI. Which is a bit ridiculous, going back and working for the school I graduated from. On the other hand, I was taught how to use all their gear, and I was a technician intern.

My protein sources are sad. I need to buy some groceries. My potatoes are all rotten. And I need to take out the garbage.

I had a long nap today.

Recently I had a nightmare I was trying to move into a new place and everytime I was moving in I would find dead murdered bodies everywhere, I was screaming and running away, eee. Finally I told my friend who was helping me find a new house NO MORE MURDERED PEOPLE. Strange dream.

Boy – Part 3 TMI

************Do not read if you don’t want to hear about testosterone’s effects on clits********************
The two weeks is up, I do not have a mustache, I am beyond the hot flashes and higher body temperature. I am still not planning to transition into a man. However the one thing I was hoping for has happened. My clit got bigger. I am probably exaggerating, but it feels twice as big as it was before. For a masculine little dude girl, this is an exciting development. My sensation even feels slightly different, which is awfully cool.

Did my sex drive go up? Nah, not a whole lot, I’m fairly concupiscent as it is. That’s a fancy word for horny, yes it is.

Either way, the whole experience has left me feeling more comfortable in my body as it is. I consider it another form of body modification that I’ve chosen. Apparently it will stay the same size, unless I opt for further hormone treatments, in which case it will get bigger, but that whole body hair lowered voice thing scares me.

I like being a lesbian boy the best. All these parts of mine are nice, and I want to keep them as they are.

High Femme Haiku

High femmes, I love you so,
yet you are scary, how can this be?
Is it the pointy shoes?

Someone buy me this . . .

. . . hot transfag porno.

I Heart Too Much

“You love too much.”

It is true, I have fallen in love a fair number of times in my life. We’d taken some kind of online test, and I had been fussing with dirty dishes as I casually called out my answers.

Me, a woman who loves too much.

How many times are you allowed to fall in love in your life without looking like a ridiculous teenager?

When I was younger, with my first sweetie that I was with for a year, there was this friend who kept falling in love with a different person every month. I think I saw her go through like, four or five girlfriends. A woman who loved too much.

But who is to say that just because you fall in love with a number of people, that it is a bad thing. What’s wrong with loving more people?

It’s a bit ridiculous to think I love too much, since I’m twenty-seven and have only had three girlfriends, and can fall hopelessly in love with people for years without anything ever actually happening. I just don’t see the point of only having one big love in your lifetime. Plus I just like that in love feeling. I guess I’m a pretty intense little dude when I’m in love. It’s been many years since I wrote a poem to a girl though.

Anyway, this summer is looking like much fun because for the first time in years I have a nice set of multiple crushes, on various cute smart ladies. Assorted flavours. Even if nothing happens with anyone, it’s entertaining as all hell. My close friends are now used to listening to me spin grand fantasies involving people they don’t know. I honestly don’t know how they can stand it.

$101.00

I won $101 dollars playing pull tabs at the Sufferin’ Dufferin last night. It was enough to buy mysef and two friends two rounds of import beers, and some extra to fiddle with. I’m really tempted to buy a DVD I have wanted for a long time, since this is extra Surprise money. Hmm. What to do. . .

*******UPDATE***************
I bought the DVD for cheap on eBay.

😀

I have kandy korn!

Without a care in the world

This morning a terroist attack rocked London. And I la di da’d around all afternoon on public transit, not a care in the world, shopping. I bought pricey honey-carmel scented soap and candy bath melts. One Roman Dirge baby T (fat girl in skintight T alert!), three panties, and two cute t shirts from Old Navy. And that was about it. Then I split a 6 pack with a friend because I promised I would buy her beers. And that was my day, it was lovely. If I got major artist fees I would shop every day.

I’m not feeling the hot flashes as much, maybe that part of T is over. People ask me if I am going to keep taking it. I would have to say, no, not unless something really happens to change how I think of myself in the world. I’m pretty comfortable in this wacky gender called Butch Dyke. I think it’s a place I want to keep living in for a while.

In fact, I almost feel more girly after having tried T. It’s hard to explain. I will mine my daily thoughts for a way to explain it. I do know that the other day I was shaving my legs (I haven’t done that in about six or seven years) and I thought “This is not a manly thing to be doing.” Same with wearing the Dorothy’s-Ruby-Slippers nail polish. And buying a T shirt that says “I am a little fairy princess.”

I’m just a 21st century gender terrorist.