tl;dr

who brought that goddamned chair here?

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 14:56:54 GMT

Cora treated me to a Dan Deacon show last night, because we'd made plans to hang out and then she remembered that she and Adam had bought tickets to go, only Adam had to work, so we still hung out and I just went in his place.

And it was lovely, because hanging out with Cora is delightful, and then I slept really well, and my body's still tired in that incredible, I just went dancing way, and coffee feels so good this morning. Mmmm.

Cora said she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen Drinkin' Out Of Cups, which Dan Deacon was involved in, and it's one of my favorite things, so I will post it here for everyone:

I'm in love with you, little sister.

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:12:23 GMT

Mmm.

I have no idea how behind the times I am on this, but Memory Tapes' Seek Magic is a dreamy, absolutely delightful album.

Also dreamy and delightful: that silly boy cat of mine, getting up on the back of the armchair while I stand near the dresser, hooking his claws into one of the cuffs of my sweater and tugging until I turn around, then launching himself up and wrapping his arms around my neck and nuzzling the top of his head all around my jawline.

are you still in high school or are you twenty-three? (do you remember me?)

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 01:53:35 GMT

I HAVE SPENT SO MUCH OF MY WEEKEND LISTENING TO THESE SONGS: Wretches by Hop Along.

I don't, I don't even know what to say about them, really, except that at parts they're way too loud for headphones and yet all I want to do is curl up and press my hands against my ears until they're all that I hear.

Omg, omg, omg, omg. Somebody else please download them and listen to "Second Name" and "Sally" and then come be tongue-tied and flailing with me so we can shudder and wave arms at each other while we discuss our favorite parts. I CAN'T PICK MINE, AND I NEED YOUR HELP.

ALTERNATIVELY (by which I mean, additionally): Top 5 songs that make you press your hands against your ears in the good way, go! It's been a few years since I asked that, omg.

a secret sweetness (unspoken between us).

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:15:50 GMT

Friday night I dreamed that you came to visit, and we had dinner with my mom and my sister. My sister was rude to you, and I was embarrassed in the way I used to inevitably get with either one of them in a social setting, but not as irritated as I would have thought I'd be if it involved you.

You mentioned a Nikki, and I immediately took her to be your girlfriend, but my sister told you she didn't have a fucking clue who you were talking about, and you blushed and looked like you'd suddenly realized how awkward it was for you to bring her up in front of my family, of all people. I clarified for you while you said nothing, and you shot me a grateful half-smile, but then looked away again, all of things that made this visit an unquestionably uncomfortable decision sinking in all at once.

Later you got drunk on wine, adorable and flushed the way I'd always thought you would be. We washed the dishes together and couldn't find much to say, but your hair was falling over the same side of your face that I was standing on, and you kept your eyes on the sink the entire time, on the glint of the soapy water as it slid between your fingers. Which is to say, not on me.

But the apples of your cheeks betrayed you, sparkled at me through loose strands of your hair, and I was happy. Despite yourself, I think you were happy too.

I didn't know where you were staying, but after you'd retreated for the night I received a long e-mail that basically said, "She's out of town for the weekend, and I can't stop myself from wondering what it would be like to make love to you." There was more to the letter, rambling about less personal things that still shook me when I read between the lines. In the dream I could hear you reading every word to me, and then the next thing I knew I was sitting on your bed, waiting for you to come in from another room.

You'd left a magazine in the cubby hole of your nightstand, something like Cosmo, folded open to an advice column in which someone had written a letter that said, "My ex-boyfriend and I never sealed the deal, and now I think I have the chance, but I don't know how to tell him that I'm still interested," and there was a low, warm thrum of amusement and affection in my stomach as I skimmed the page, imagined you stumbling across the letter and saving it, hiding it under your pillow at night and letting it give you hope for the two of us.

Maybe it was even what'd inspired you to come here, and after everything that'd always made us so special, the fact that in the end it seemed like something that common, that banal was what had finally made this happen, well, how could I not love you all the more for it?

When I woke up I thought, "How funny, to dream about you for the first time now, when there were so many times before when it would have made more sense."

And then, almost a full hour later, I realized it hadn't been the first time I dreamed about you at all:

It was almost five years ago.

In the dream you almost kissed me, your face soft, slightly out of focus and yet all that I could see, leaning forward, closer, closer, closer... and then I woke up, and I was so wet when I woke up that I spent the next week stumbling around campus in a daze, unable to do anything beyond think about the magnetization of the quarter-inch of space between your lips and mine in that final split second before I'd awoken and how I could still feel the pull of it, days later.

I don't know what to do with this forgetting business. My desire's always been mutable, but I didn't think that applied to you. Remembering Friday night's dream really does feel as if it were the first time. Maybe my love is just starting fresh. Maybe it had to.

The second realization I had yesterday, even less startling, and even more alarming as a result: that fantasy I had, the one where you were a little tipsy and sitting on my hips, thighs gently squeezing the sides of my stomach, and I had my hands on your sides, and you were laughing, we both were, and your hair, your hair was falling down across both of our faces? That one? Oh, it's shifted, it has, and you're not even in it anymore. What am I supposed to do with that, do you think?

No, I don't know either.

A half-mutant S.O.S.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 03:48:49 GMT

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but I fucking love anagrams, and I've spent at least the last hour and a half entertaining myself by finding some for my own name.

Some of my favorites, best read as hypothetical newspaper headlines for maximum amusement:

1. Fatal krill spur stomach.
2. Hilt of lust: carpal marks.
3. "Fractal lark!" hums Pistol.
4. Pal of shrill tarts amuck.
5. Astral plums to filch ark.
6. Karma shortfall cuts lip.
7. Slapstick: a floral thrum.
8. Armpit, ho! Cat lurks, falls.

Man, those karma shortfalls are a real bitch. And I would kill for one of those astral plums right about now (so talented!), but I guess I've got carpal marks to keep me busy in the meantime. At least I haven't eaten any fatal krill lately...?

Someone should go warn the cat. I'll do that. And while I am, it would pretty much delight me to see what your favorite anagrams of your names are, dear friends and pals. So, you know. Hop on that. *bats eyelashes in a manly fashion*

it's hard to think about the girl you'd like to kiss when the world is ending.

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 19:12:20 GMT

Jesus Christ. I've watched this video at least a dozen times in the last 16 hours, and it's fucking making me cry.

Please, Mr. Postman by Hop Along, Queen Ansleis from David Senigo on Vimeo.

Fucking hell. I'm so fucking sick of feeling held in by money, anxiety, by fucking PTSD-esque breakdowns (of which I had two this week, two!), and just. Jesus Christ it's going to kill me if I never do anything that makes me feel as alive as that. If I don't do it soon.

Other shit I want to be a part of:

Kickball - Underground Husbands from If You Make It on Vimeo.

Hop Along - Second Name from If You Make It on Vimeo.

Electrelane from Steven Soloway on Vimeo.

...I feel like I should mention somewhere that I uploaded Hop Along (formerly Hop Along, Queen Ansleis)'s first album for julietcetera yesterday and would totally be willing to share the link with any other interested parties. Also, she is really ridiculously gorgeous, holy crap.

salt and pepper shakers over your shoulders.

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:52:50 GMT

Unf, I don't remember as much about it as I usually do with my dreams, but last night I totally dreamed that Emily Prentiss was my sexy mechanic girlfriend, looking pretty much exactly like Neil Patrick Harris in

...only, you know, even sexier. (Considering how good NPH looks in that photo, that really is saying something.) Unf, Emily Prentiss, why aren't you a real person? And why aren't you actually my sexy mechanic girlfriend?

Man. I wish I remembered that dream half as well as I remember the other dream I had, which involved watching a "horror" film called Pornogeist and telling everyone how much work I was going to have to do to cut out the sex bits if I wanted to show the movie to my baby sister, at which point cora_the_rose explained to me v. v. patiently that it was called Pornogeist for a reason. Ahaha.

you're just a stranger who lives in my head.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 05:17:12 GMT

I keep looking at these pictures, taken tonight, and wondering if anybody else can fully understand what it feels when I look in the mirror and that beautiful, queer boy is what I see now.

I wish I could explain what it feels like to transition. It feels like a long drive home to me. It's being curled up in the passenger seat while somebody else drives, warmth that starts in my belly and slowly makes its way into my chest, knowing we're almost there and that the person driving's going to make sure I get there safely. It's having been on a good trip, but knowing that my bed's waiting at home, and that it's even warmer than this car, and being perfectly happy where I am for the moment, but being excited about getting to climb into that bed soon.

This is a beautiful precipice. This is my deep breath before I swandive over its edge.

I'm sleepy. I'm making sleepy metaphors. I'm sorry. It's just a nice feeling, that's all. I want to savor these days, make sure I'm properly appreciating my history, properly appreciating these early days of a journey that will never have a firm ending. I feel time slowing down as I approach the end of my estrogen-saturated days, and I can see it speeding up again on the horizon, and I wish I could make it move even slower so I could soak in as many details from as many moments as possible.

One of the things I do sort of regret about being single for most of this time, although I don't regret it in general, is that there hasn't been anyone to savor all of these changes as closely as I have. It would be nice to be able to take someone's hand and say, "Touch me here, do you feel that? That's not how it felt last week, that's not how it felt yesterday." To be able to see all the more clearly, from having not only my own perspective, but somebody else's reflected back at me at such close range. "Stand still. You know other people have always been my favorite kind of mirror." "Close your eyes. I'm going to show you everything."

I love you, I've a drowning grip on your adoring face.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 01:12:31 GMT

So, I'm realizing more and more that the friends I spend the most time with and rely on the most emotionally are essentially friends of convenience. Ugh. I think that probably sounds horrible, but I don't mean it as negatively as it sounds. They're good people, but we're friends because we work together, mostly. And because we meet each other's needs best out of everyone else that we could be friends with at work. But the thing I'm realizing is that doesn't necessarily mean we actually do meet each other's needs, and that my needs, specifically, really aren't being met, like even a little right now.

This realization isn't entirely limited to work friends, but it's fairly well centered around them. Possibly because it's easier to spread out the disappointment to a larger circle of people who I like but mostly would not be heartbroken about if we weren't in each other's lives, as opposed to the two or three other friends I've known much longer and been much closer to who are also included in this realization as a result of awkward transition business.

Augh. It's been a bad week for social-emotional stuff. I'm feeling way too paranoid in every social interaction I have, and my disappointment in various things is manifesting itself as irrational anger with a side of uncontrollable crying every now and then. Man, I could use a hug, maybe like a long-lasting horizontal one where I get to be the little spoon or whatever that's called, have you guys heard of that? Oh, and way more of you guys in my life. That would be nice too.

...which reminds me, does anybody else have a list of fantasy friends, kind of like a fantasy baseball team? Because I totally do, and it consists of, like, people I'm friends with online that I wish I lived closer to, and friends of mine who don't know each other but totally should because in my head they get along so well, and people who I know but am not as close to as I would like to be. Sometimes I actually forget that this list is only in my head. So, does anybody else do that? If so, what does your list look like?

as of about an hour ago.

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 18:01:49 GMT

Appointment with GP to get referral to the endocrinologist: done.

Last (required) appointment with therapist to get recommendation letter for endocrinologist to prescribe testosterone: ~~tomorrow~~. Thursday.

Initial appointment with endocrinologist: ~~Friday!?~~ Next Monday (the 16th).

it will surround you.

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 05:15:46 GMT

I buzzed my head tonight, and I dreamed about you again this weekend.

Why am I always dreaming about your breasts? When I had that dream two weeks ago, I was dragging my tongue against the underswell - the crook, the heat, the place on your body which I would most like to call home - and you had tangled your fingers behind my head and let your voice ramble gently out into the soft light of the room while my tongue made its travels on your skin.

This time they were the size of miniature cupcakes, and your nipples were a pale orange-peach-tan whose tips delighted my taste buds as if they really were made of frosting. I know that your breasts are larger in real life, and I have no idea what color your nipples actually are, but I can't get the image out of my mind. Your tiny dream nipples, and how I thought I was in heaven when I felt them beading, tightening under my tongue.

Mine. For a few, brief moments I knew that you were mine.

At first I couldn't tell if I was dreaming of the before or after hand this time. Last time we were curled up on my bed in the yellow bedroom that was my sanctuary in high school, but this time we were somewhere else entirely. Supposedly it was your room. Something tells me it was nothing like your room. I had my arms slung around your waist, and we had no blankets on, but we were warm despite - and I bent to press my mouth a few inches below your armpit, on that wide, solid stretch of your side where your ribs are, and as I did I looked up at your face and decided that even if it was going to ruin everything, I'd had too much of you at this point not to tell you how I felt.

As if you didn't know. To your credit you didn't cringe. I was grateful for that.

The words I used were insignificant. What mattered was how I didn't hide the light in my face when I looked at you, the light that you'd made in me. It was the wildest of joys that you made in me, the volatile, easily violent kind, and although either one of us wouldn't have been wrong to be terrified of that, I chose to let you see it.

And you, you might have said nothing, but still you met my gaze fearlessly, and although your expression gave nothing away, I felt my heart begin to weep at this gesture of compassion from you, at your seemingly limitless capacity for tenderly accepting the parts of me that I cut myself upon most often.

You kissed me as you dressed. I didn't want to let you leave, but it was less of a risk than asking you to stay any longer than you already had. You'd lingered, it meant something. If only I was more certain what that something was.

"What about-" I asked, and you immediately knew what I was asking. Perhaps you had been waiting for the question. Perhaps we both had. Perhaps the entire afternoon had been building toward it.

"He knows," you said quietly, seriously.

I hadn't expected any less of you. I would have been disappointed if it were otherwise. Still, though. I was surprised.

"He knows this was a possibility." Your elaboration came slowly, as you allowed the space to swell between each individual word. "He said it was okay, but-" And here you trailed off, and somehow I knew that the lost end of the sentence was that things might have changed for him, now that it'd actually happened, now that we had - and that you needed to talk to him before you could say anything more, but that there was, indeed, more to be said.

And here is where my heart swelled too full, the moment when I knew that whatever happened from here I would love you, love you and love you, that my face would always be full of that beautiful, terrifying light whenever my brain spoke your name, that nothing else would matter more to me than this grey afternoon, even if - even if this was it, if this was all there was to be had.

And, oh, I am a foolish boy, and my heart trembles in your presence even when you are not a dream, and I don't think we know each other well enough for me to think any of this, but somehow I think that you would understand, that you really are that fearless. I feel a safety with you that no one else has ever inspired so strongly, and I don't know where it comes from, but I want to hold you in my arms and build a fortress of kisses all around every handsome bit of you. I want to offer my arms, my shoulders, my stomach, my thighs, all the strong thick parts of me, as a bed to you, as a home away from home. It is the least that I can do.

the only person who's completely certain there's nothing here to be into.

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 21:48:48 GMT

I love these two things so much:

"She had short hair and never wore anything but Levis, boots, a black or white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Every time she went out the door, she squared her shoulders, straightened her spine, and put purpose in her walk. When the way you look makes it clear that you are a queer sort of queer, each unmolested step down the street is a victory. Live defensively, she told herself as she strained to extend her peripheral vision to shield her sides and back. Sometimes she concentrated so hard on not smiling, not moving her ass from side to side, not giving any sign of vulnerability, that she stopped thinking for several minutes about nights when cars had screamed to a stop, disgorging gangs that chanted insults as they ran, and stopped scanning litter baskets for bottles she could break, just in case." (from "The Surprise Party")

and

" "I don't have any money," she says, as if she has read my mind and knows that I want her to save me, take me in out of the cold that is deepening as it gets darker. "I lost my job. My collective has put my stuff on the street. I was hoping maybe Lefty would be here. He seemed to be a nice guy. Maybe he would have helped me save some of my belongings. I'm going to have to find a cheap place to stay."

Well. My name is Noh Mann, but I am a nice guy, too, and her assumption that she won't get any help from me stings." (from "The Hustler")

Have I mentioned Patrick Califia's Macho Sluts here already? I haven't finished it yet, but I already know it is the most skillfully written book I've ever read and my new favorite to boot. I am not sure what to say about it that hasn't already been said by better writers than me, but it's probably the most literate book of short stories I've ever read, and I keep thinking that I wish I could go back in time and take this into my high school American Literature class, which is (and would have been) impossible for a variety of reasons, but despite that, if you know anything about that class, you'll know that it's probably the highest honor I could bestow upon any book.

Also, unrelatedly, I'm supposed to go to a party tonight that I'm really not in the mood for, but I feel like later there will be consequences for not going that I'm equally not in the mood for. Stupid social dynamics, I really despise you sometimes.

man, fuck that, he searchin' for faith.

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:03:16 GMT

I AM BACK FROM THE COURTHOUSE.

I AM FEELING APPROXIMATELY THIS HAPPY:

...and, guh, approximately this much like having super hot, super dirty sex to work off the adrenaline. Which is actually more the point of this post than the happiness bit, because on my way home from Greenfield I had this really involved fantasy that I've, uh, had before, but I realized that I've never, ever told anyone ever about this particular ~*~thing~*~ I've got.

So, um. If I were to write some sort of piece about this fantasy, or about other fantasies in the future, would anyone be interested in reading it?

View Poll: just out of, uh, curiosity.

there's a drumming noise inside my head (that starts when you're around).

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 18:23:27 GMT

I won a free hour off of work this week via a departmental trivia contest, so guess what I am going to do with that?

Go to the courthouse!? Today!?

he admits to the forest fire.

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 11:27:28 GMT

I've apparently been doing too many of these logic puzzles lately, because this morning I hit snooze way too many times, convinced that which time my alarm went off was part of a puzzle - the solution to which I hadn't yet figured out.

Aw, crap. Well, at least the supervisor-formerly-known-as-bitchy-but-favorite thought it was funny enough not to be mad at me when I was 10 minutes late this morning.

Also? I was up way too late last night. Around midnight I was reading out of Macho Sluts (♥♥♥) when Bat For Lashes' "Sarah" came on, and I thought, "This song is so creepy! I should make my friend Sarah listen to it."

I started to make a playlist, because it's silly to burn someone a CD for just one song, and then by the time I realized how late it was, it was almost two a.m. and the finished playlist didn't even have the original song on it. Ahaha.

So! I feel kind of silly now. But I think I'm going to give her the CD anyway. It's got a pretty awesome track list and I actually think she'll like it a lot. Hmm.

palaces and storm clouds.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:10:18 GMT

Lora and I went to a friend's sister's "slumber party" last night, which was hilariously awkward for me as we were in a room full of UMass sorority girls talking about sex and about guys and nobody except the small handful of people I already knew recognized that there was, you know, a guy in the room (a.k.a. me) and nobody, even the small handful of people we already knew, recognized how awkward all the compulsive heteronormativity in all the sales pitches were for both me and Lora. (Or at least me, because Lora didn't seem to mind too much. But I imagine it was weird for her too.)

There were a couple of moments where I almost blurted out that I was there. Or almost muttered, "And gentleman..." whenever anyone addressed the room with a blanket 'ladies'. But then I was worried some of the girls might get upset because they were talking about things it didn't sound like they normally talk about in front of guys, and maybe they'd have felt betrayed by my unintentionally covert presence or whatever.

Which is weird on so many levels, but one of the ones I find most baffling: why don't they talk about these things with the guys they date? I don't get it at all. Maybe I am just spoiled by (the seemingly generally followed standard of) open communication in queer relationships.

So I didn't say anything after all. It was so very bizarre of an experience... and it's especially weird because times like this show me just how much weirdness goes unnoticed by even people who are in the know. Like, my friend Sarah is a sweetheart, but even she continues to say 'ladies' all the time in addressing groups that include me, and it'd be one thing if it was something she said regardless of the gender-count of the group or if it were said in some sort of tongue-in-cheek manner or if she (or whoever else) realized the inaccuracy (when taking the word literally) and added something afterward like, "Oh, and Marshall too"... except that's generally not what happens.

Geeky language tangent: I think it'd actually be super awesome if mixed-gender groups were routinely referred to as "ladies" because blah blah blah subverting systematic male privileging. But it's when I know that that's not the case, when I know that somebody wouldn't be saying "ladies" if any guy other than me were standing there, that's when hearing "ladies" makes me sort of uncomfortable.

And when I say sort of uncomfortable, I mostly mean 1) that it makes me realize a) what a huge, huge shift in thinking it is to transition and b) how impossible it is for anyone who hasn't been here to catch every instance of something that's shifted and 2) that it makes me kind of sad that most people are going to stop paying close enough attention to catch more of those instances once I get to a certain point or once they get to a certain point in their understanding. Because, like. Things are so fucking weird. And so much weirdness just kind of slips under the radar, and I love that I'm seeing all of this now. It makes me wish everyone went through something where they paid this much attention to something as "simple" as how the world treats something as common and taken for granted as gender (and how the language we use supports that treatment), and augh. It's such a bizarre and rewarding thing to pay attention to.

Speaking of bizarre, I had this dream last night that I joined a competitive dance coalition in Northampton. I want to say we were in groups of 4-5, but several groups were meeting to rehearse together-but-separately, led by a single instructor. So I'm not sure who we were competing against, because the small groups were definitely individual teams, but we seemed to be facing a common "enemy". I don't know what made me want to join this coalition, because I didn't know anyone there, but nobody seemed put out by having me there, beyond a few unimpressed, "Oh, there's a new person" looks from certain people.

Anyway. The team I ended up on had one guy and one girl, and the three of us had this sort of weird, silent respect thing going on when I first sat down with them. I was sitting on the corner of a crate in this very masculine way, with my knees spread and square, leaning forward with my weight solid on my forearms and my hands loosely folded and dropped low. I was reading something, I think, and then after a few minutes I looked up and shook my teammates hands and introduced myself, adding in that I was trans, and then looking back at what I was reading.

Somehow I could tell that my teammates made up their mind about me (in a positive way) as a result of my no-nonsenseness, and it made me grin to myself while I continued my reading.

Later in the dream I was sitting in some kind of wing-backed armchair while the instructor was addressing everyone about this guy (who works in my company but in another department) and how he was going to try to steal our material if he knew that we were meeting, and that was very amusing because it's totally not out of the realm of imagination that people would be concerned about this with him, but. The more important thing is that one of the younger girls from the coalition came and sat on my lap while the instructor was talking, and I wrapped my arms around her and kept her warm, and she kept trying to sneak glances at me, but I'd catch her and then she'd look away and giggle and I'd tighten my arms around her and snuggle her closer to show that I thought she was being adorable. And my teammates kept looking over at me with this little girl in my lap, who was obviously smitten with me, and they looked at me like this gave them even more respect for me than what I'd earned before.

I'm not sure what the little girl really had to do with anything, except the connection to Zoe is fairly obvious. Laura and I went back to her friends' house to babysit on Saturday, and I charmed the crap out of Zoe all over again. She had artwork waiting for me when I got there, because apparently she'd been thinking about me over the week. And at dinner she kept scooting her chair closer to me and wrapping both her arms around just one of mine and smiling up at me bashfully through her tiny, blonde eyelashes.

She's such an intensely verbal kid, too, and so much so that it's hard to play with her sometimes because she's so smart and so capable of entertaining herself that she just sort of steamrolls everyone around her, and I can relate to that so much that it makes want to, like, scoop her up and tell her it's okay to be that clever, that she'll find people who can keep up one of these days.

Laura and I curled up with her to read her bedtime stories; it was pretty much the strangest, sweetest thing, because Laura is such a gruff person most of the time. And while we were reading I also had this image in my head of what my own family is going to look like someday, and like. I know it's never really what you think it's going to be, but I'm pretty sure my family's going to be so beautiful.

Anyway. After the dream I woke up feeling warm and loose in a way I don't feel like I've felt in a while and the feeling's stayed with me so far. Mmm. If that continues, today's going to be a good day.

you would laugh and you'd say, "no, I wouldn't."

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 04:05:13 GMT

Also, my birth certificate came today. I would be more excited, but. I've been irritable all day. So. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Also also, an offhanded comment from Annie reminded me of how much the general public thinks certain things I'm into are really kinky. I really don't think they're that kinky. Not superly so, anyway. But man. I wish I had a (gender goes here)friend so we could do those things, regardless of how kinky they may or may not be.

so we'll drink from the bottle and roll the dice.

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 20:26:10 GMT

List 10 musical artists you like, in no specific order (do this before reading the questions below). Really, don’t read the questions below until you pick your ten artists!!!

1. Electrelane
2. Joanna Newsom
3. Sleater-Kinney
4. Kaki King
5. Tegan & Sara
6. Florence + The Machine
7. Portishead
8. Julie Doiron
9. Land of Talk
10. Cat Power

1. What was the first song you ever heard by 6? (Florence + The Machine)

"Kiss With A Fist", during Jennifer's Body, although I didn't know it at the time. (I remember thinking, "Wow, this new Kate Nash material is badass," hahaha.)

"Cosmic Love" was the first song I heard and knew what I was hearing.

2. What is your favorite song of 8? (Julie Doiron)

This is a hard question.

Several possibilities: "Spill Yer Lungs", "Lovers of the World", "Tailor", "Heavy Snow", "Gone Gone", "The Best Thing For Me", "Seven", "Don't Wannabe/Liked By You".

The ones that make me the happiest, generally speaking, are "Lovers of the World" and "Tailor". They're love songs, and they're understatedly complex ones. They're love songs for people like me who don't necessarily believe in one all-consuming love, who still try to give our all every time, because we understand that even great relationships break hearts sometimes and that the potential end of a relationship isn't nearly as significant as the journey leading up to it and the things we learn about ourselves in the meantime).

...the fuzzed out guitars might help. ;)

Also, lyrics like this:

If I were a tailor I could make you a tie
If I were a baker I might bake those things you like
And I wouldn't mind taking my time

If I were your paper you could read me like a book
If I was your pen, then you could hold me in your hand
And I wouldn't mind you taking your time drawing the straight lines

If I were a snow plow I could plow a path to you
If I were a snow flake I would fall right next to you
And if I were your wood stove I could keep you warm at night
If I were the fire I could keep you warm all night
And I wouldn't mind taking my time
No I wouldn't mind taking my time for you

3. What kind of impact has 1 left on your life? (Electrelane)

A pretty big one. I started listening to Electrelane in late summer 2007, which was a pivotal time in my life. I actually remember the exact date of the first time I heard No Shouts, No Calls. It sounds silly, but the way I responded to the album (both in terms of certain songs and the overall experience) really told me a lot about what kind of person I was and what kinds of decisions I was willing to make. And then once I made those decisions, listening to the album over the following months helped reaffirm that I'd made the right choices and lended comfort when I got lonely.

4. What is your favorite lyric of 5? (Tegan & Sara)

It's actually from one of their new songs, "The Ocean":

So, it's been so long since you said,
"Well, I know what I want
and what I want is right here with you."

...have I mentioned how much I love the new album?

5. How many times have you seen 4 live? (Kaki King)

Either 2 or 3 times. I know I saw her once at the Iron Horse and at least once at Pearl St., but I always want to say that we saw her play at Pearl St. twice. I don't actually think we did though.

In any case, she's fucking badass, and one of the most engaging stage people I've ever seen.

6. What is your favorite song by 7? (Portishead)

"Glory Box". I feel like Dummy's one of those albums that gets even more perfect years after you first listened to it, but "Glory Box" is always the song that hits me the hardest. (And despite the fact that it seems to be an incredibly gendered song, I think the emotions behind it hit me even harder as a guy, now that I've begun transitioning.)

7. Is there any song by 10 that makes you sad? (Cat Power)

A number of them, but which ones manage to do it vary by my mood. "King Rides By" is usually a safe bet though, as, well, it's a sad song and in particular it's one that I associate with my first-favorite ex-girlfriend.

8. What is your favorite song by 9? (Land of Talk)

"Speak To Me Bones"! It's weird that I can answer that so easily, because I love so many of their songs, but "Speak To Me Bones" is the one I can still listen to (easily!) like a dozen times in a row, even two and a half years after I first heard it.

...although, augh, there's a rotating list of co-favorites and "Street Wheels" is up there right now.

9. When did you first get into 2? (Joanna Newsom)

Um. I had to think for a second, but it was also the summer of 2007 (like Electrelane!). I had made a mix for Zach and somewhere in the enthusiastically scribbled notes I'd cobbled together, I mentioned what a thrill I get out of hearing really smart girls swear in their songs, and he got all shivery and told me about how much he loved the part in "Colleen" where she finally snaps and says, "But still I don't know any goddamned "Colleen"".

And then I heard "Cosmia" and I sent it to Lora after we had broken up the first time and then we both spent sleepless nights listening to it and thinking of the other, and, well. My love for Ms. Newsom has only grown since.

10. How did you get into 3? (Sleater-Kinney)

I was fifteen and I spent a lot of time looking for and reading about bands and albums that had been influential to people "like me", for whatever elusive value that matched, and Dig Me Out came up on a list one day. It took me a while to get into the album - I knew it was going to have to be lyrics to hook me (as opposed to the music doing it), but I needed some time to find which lyrics did the first trick. But once I was there, I was really there, and they quickly came to be (and remain) pretty much my all-time favorite.

11. What is your favorite song by 4? (Kaki King)

"Night After Sidewalk" and "Close Your Eyes and You'll Burst Into Flames". Also, "Life Being What It Is" and "These Are The Armies Of The Tyrannized".

12. How many times have you seen 9 live? (Land of Talk)

Once. In June of 2007 at the Subterranean in Chicago. Lizzie Powell managed to be an effin' badass even in red sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Pretty much ridiculously so. I got to talk to her briefly (very briefly) after their set and she gave me permission to steal one of the club's posters for
the show! (It is now in its current home in my cubicle at work.)

13. What is a good memory concerning 2? (Joanna Newsom)

Hee. Well, "Sawdust And Diamonds" and "Only Skin" are currently tied for my favorite of her songs, but every time "Cosmia" comes on in the car, I giggle out of delight and squeeze Lora's hand and/or thigh and tell her how happy it makes me that we had such a fantastic song for our relationship.

14. Is there a song by 8 that makes you sad? (Julie Doiron)

Oh god, lots of them. Ms. Doiron is pretty good at sad songs. Most of the songs from Julie Doiron & the Wooden Stars remind me of my first-favorite ex-girlfriend and lots of the songs from I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day remind me of my most recent ex-girlfriend, so. Depending on my mood, any one of them can get me down.

From Julie Doiron & the Wooden Stars, "Gone Gone" and "Seven" are the likeliest culprits. From I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day, it's most likely to be either "Spill Yer Lungs" or "Heavy Snow".

There's a line in "Spill Yer Lungs" that always kills me: "And maybe I should have mentioned / that I was not built for this kind of loving." And then it goes into the chorus, or what functions like the chorus, and. Just. Ugh. It reminded me of my most recent ex-girlfriend well before the relationship even ended, so. Yes.

15. What is your favorite song of 1? (Electrelane)

Hahahaha. I have no idea. All of them? ;) Probably "After the Call" or "Saturday"... or "Oh Sombra!" or "On Parade", although choosing a favorite seems really wrong considering how fantastic their entire albums are.

...also, the party was GREAT. But I got like three hours of sleep and then worked for eight hours and now I'm too worn out to update about, like, actual life things, haha. :P

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 21:53:57 GMT

This Halloween party tomorrow night is going to be effing ridic'. Annie's afraid of lobsters (like, legit afraid of them), so as the kind and caring friend that I am, that is exactly what I'm going as.

Laura and I are making a whole bunch of extra claws, too, and we plan on distributing them to the other attendees before Annie shows up.

Oh god, how in the world did I end up with an entire cabal of friends who are just as delightfully absurd as everything I love and adore?

ALSO. Today somebody told me my haircut makes me look like a guy from "some movie like Rebel Without A Cause or something." MY LIFE, IT IS COMPLETE.

I've got the cure for your crimes.

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 14:01:01 GMT

Okay, so, the new T&S album: it's SO GOOD.

Buy it if you get the chance, but I'm going to go ahead and upload it anyway. (ninjascrabbit uploaded it for me first, so really I am just passing along the favor.)

Sainthood -- Tegan & Sara

I am pretty sure it's my favorite of their albums. It sounds more cohesive than they usually do. (I wonder if that's because they made a point of writing in the same space this time around.) Anyway, I actually like all of the songs, but so far my favorites are "Don't Rush", "Red Belt", "The Cure", and "The Ocean".

Enjoy!

I never know if to laugh or to scream.

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 03:30:00 GMT

I have been listening to a crapload of Florence + The Machine and Tegan & Sara the last couple of days, and I've been contemplating uploading a few songs (the new T&S album is SO GOOD), but then just now I was listening to a remix of "Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)" and I realized that Florence's voice reminds me so, so much of the vocalist on this song I listened to like a billion times when I was a freshman in high school, and so I am uploading that song instead!

Broken Bridge - Daughter Darling

Mmm. Piano-driven trip-hop! The lyrics are kind of corny, but the beat is so nice and her voice is frigging incredible. Ugh. I think this is the first time I've listened to this song in years, and it's still so good. ♥

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 01:51:11 GMT

Huh. I figure I'm open enough that there probably won't be too many responses to this, but just in case:

The problem with LJ: We all think we are so close, but really we know nothing about one another. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

tear out all of your tenderness.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 09:36:56 GMT

I can't sleep. At this point, I think I am probably going to call in sick to work again ~~tomorrow~~ today.

On one hand that's probably fine because even after calling out last Thursday and leaving early today I've still got 12.5 hours of accumulated overtime from the last couple of weeks that I'm not actually allowed to code, so. I need to take the time off anyway... but I think technically I'm supposed to schedule the hours ahead of time, not just call in with them, so, blah. I don't know.

At this point I'd be getting less than an hour of sleep. Yeah. I'm going to have to call in. Regardless of whether or not I technically should.

So I think it is fairly obvious from recent posts on the matter that all of the gender business is going exceedingly well, for the most part. And the non-romantic part of my social life is going well too.

Other things though? Not so much. And that's why I'm not asleep.

...I don't even know how it came up, but earlier in the car Laura and Annie got into an argument about whether or not drugs make people skinny, and they were talking about heroin addicts because they've each known a few, and the conversation led to something that jarred a memory for me.

And, like, that wasn't unusual. I have so many memories that there are always a couple getting jarred at any given point. But usually I just keep them to myself, whatever they happen to be, because my memories tend to be too weighty to discuss in a casual social setting... so, yeah. I just deal with them myself. But I don't know, I don't really want to do that anymore. I'm trying to let other people have a chance to be more supportive. So I decided to share the one that their conversation had brought up for me.

I was 13 and my dad was dating the 20-year-old who already had two kids. The three of us were going somewhere in the car, and she made this joke about crack that neither my dad nor I found very funny, because it skirted just a little too close to all those oh so white elephants in the room where most of my childhood was spent.

And... I had this moment where I knew that she was going to end up pushing it and making the moment even worse, because she was too self-absorbed to realize that my emotional well-being was more important than the bruised ego she got when we hadn't laughed.

I remember that moment so clearly, how in my mind I was closing my eyes and praying that whatever she said next, however my father responded, that it wouldn't confirm anything I didn't want to know for sure.

I was too self-protective to let myself deny likelihoods when it came to my father, but when it came to actually knowing things, like knowing things for sure, I tried to keep as much of a distance as possible. I mean, I already knew too much, and all of the fears that came along with that knowledge already took up way too many of my conscious thoughts.

I mean, I spent so much time when I was a kid, trying to figure out how to stop being so abnormally perceptive, how to stop being so clever, how to stop figuring out all of these things I didn't even want to know that nobody ever even had to tell me, that nobody was ever even willing to acknowledge to me because they were just hoping against hope that I didn't already know, even though if they'd taken even a single second to think about it clearly they would have seen how much attention I couldn't help but pay to things, how much I needed somebody to step in and be at the very least a real friend to me, if nothing else, if nothing more. And then here's this fucking cunt bitch I'm already light years smarter than lobbing bigger hints at me than I would have needed even six or seven years prior, telling me there's yet another drug I have to actively worry about with my father, and pretty much forcing my father into a confession I wouldn't have any choice but to witness. It was just. One of those moments that happened in slow motion, one of those moments in which I knew my heart was about to get broken in just one more irreparable way.

So there I am, like, praying that no one's going to say anything, that the inevitable isn't about to happen, and in my mind I've got my eyes closed as tightly as they'll go but in the physical world I was staring right at them, looking back and forth between the backs of their heads and holding my breath waiting to see what was going to be said.

And, of course, I was right to have prepared myself for the worst. She did just about the most perfectly awful thing she could have done. She waited a few seconds after her failed crack joke and then she slugged him in the arm as if she couldn't tell how uncomfortable we were, and she said, "Oh come on, like you haven't done it!" and then she laughed, looking back at me like she expected me to be on her side, trying to coax him into laughing too.

And I don't know, I'm pretty sure she had to know on a certain level exactly how out of place her original comment was, but instead of changing the topic she blustered right on through to some place even more awful, and I know - I know - that degree of sheer bravado-filled, mind-numbingly-obvious-to-everyone-except-seemingly-the-person-doing-the-neglecting negligence is a way of coping with the shame of realizing what further shred of innocence you've taken from a child who already had too little of it to begin with, because in I'm-so-fucking-stupid-I'm-not-capable-of-acting-like-a-decent-human-being logic, if you carry bravely forward you don't even have to acknowledge the shame exists, and if you don't acknowledge it exists that's a pretty good way of making it up to the poor kid, right? Just don't acknowledge that you've done anything wrong. And the best way not to acknowledge that you've done anything wrong is to continue... continue and make it even worse if you can. Because if it were really bad, you wouldn't have done it, because you're a good person, so if you did do it, then that means it wasn't really bad and if it wasn't really bad then that means you're still a good person. And I know all about what the flash in a person's eye looks like with they decide that's how they're going to cope with that shame and all about the things it'll lead a person to do, because I used to see that look on my mother's face way too often, and yeah. That was the look that dumb bitch got that day right before she decided to punch my dad on the arm after we didn't laugh at the joke she shouldn't have made in front of me anyway.

(And he. He. The fucking dickless chump made me change the subject. He just let it hang there between all of us, waiting for someone else to step up and move on. I still remember how hard it was to do around the lump I had in my throat. Fucking coward.)

...I told Annie and Laura the abbreviated version of that story, which means that I stuck with telling them the 'what' of what happened, and then I acknowledged that at some point between the ages of 6 and 8 I was definitely aware enough of such things to want to cry whenever my dad had friends over and they went into the bathroom for a few minutes and then ducked their heads out into the hallway and called out for someone to bring them a spoon, and like.

Annie made the most disappointed noise, and she said something about my family always taking the cake, and I said sort of glibly, "Well, didn't you know that already?" and she made the noise again and said something about how the details are worse than she can imagine, even though she knows to imagine something pretty awful. I'm glad I opened up, but I wish my brain wouldn't have forced my hand in the first place.

Ah, well, the more my brain forces my hand, the more likely it is I'll tell my stories, and one of these days they've got to run out. Right? And the more I tell my stories, the less likely it is I'll feel alone at the end of the day, right? Right.

(My therapist and I are working on trauma recovery. Did I mention that? It's good. I just wonder how many of my memories I'll have left by the time we're done packing them away.)

things that happened in the last twelve hours.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 05:36:43 GMT

STRANGERS THINK I'M A DUDE NOW.

...AT FIRST GLANCE, ANYWAY.

THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL AND WEIRD.

1. A guy started to call me "ma'am" when I stopped to get a soda on my way to therapy. But then he caught himself and just trailed off awkwardly instead.
2. One very blunt individual took one look at me and asked, "Are you male or female?" (For the record, I think this individual's a jackass. But the deeper implication behind the question even being asked pleases me.)
3. I got pulled over doing 20 mph over the speed limit around the same time all the Amherst bars were closing (because I'm an idiot and I was spacing out driving through campus) and the cop called me "sir" (and let me go with a warning). (!!!)

..."passing" is such a weird thing. I have no idea what it is that's suddenly allowing me to be read (more or less) correctly by people who don't otherwise know me, but I'd sure be curious to find out.

always in this twilight.

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:15:48 GMT

Augh, I just realized how close Friday is getting.

Whic means I only have three days to pull together my costume before Jill's Halloween party.

Crap. But I have the greatest costume idea ever(!!!), so let's see if I can do this.

[ETA: Speaking of things I can do, guess who just scheduled an appointment with a primary care person for Nov. 2nd? This guy!

(For insurance purposes, they will be the one writing me the referral to the endocrinologist, so once I see the PC I'll be able to schedule the endo appointment as well. And by then I will have my reccommendation letter from my therapist - today is appointment 10 out of 12 with her - and then hopefully within a few weeks of the initial endo appointment, I will actually have my prescription for testosterone. Holy shit. So many hoops, but what the hell. It's almost here! \o/)]