Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Biologicals





Hilarious. The damsel escapes, on fleet sneaker. 

Well, I've been thinking more about my recently adopted trans-ness. I looked through hideous images from Vollmann yesterday, trying to find a grasp on these complicated matters of physique.

Every so often I'll come across an image that nearly inspires me, as if I am suddenly floating above myself, above my gender even. It is an experience in which I begin to think aloud… I can be a fat girl, too…. Then, just like that, I feel differently. It's magical. I'm starting to believe that with a summer dress or two and some red lipstick that this project might actually have gotten legs.

Gotten 'em - hot ones. 

My fear, however, is that I will not be celebrated as a true American hero the way that others before me have. It's because my cock still gets hard, I'm certain of it. That vile thing stands in the way of my emerging delta. If I'm not very careful then I might just be ridiculed as a fat drag queen with bad makeup, like an aging raver in a madhouse.

There is always that danger, of course. It is easy to throw on a colorful blouse at some desert festival and borrow some sensuous felinity through artifice alone. But to assume another identity, one that does not correlate with your biological sexiness…. well, now, that is saucy.

Saucer of milk, table for two….


I jest.

I probably should stop. I take enough pictures of kids that any weirdness or perceived sexual ambiguity might be detected and then misread as a genuine danger, as if I'm merely trying to use a bathroom of my choosing with children present.

I'm not sure what my birth certificate says; hopefully, "unregistered."

Or, this issue is over already. Isn't it?

We should all stop beating the dead and dying horses. Though, I did hear that the DOJ filed suit against North Carolina. Or, was it the other way around? Everybody is suing everybody, it seems, and all so that I can enjoy the luxurious softness of wearing women's panties in public. It seems a lot of ruckus for something so simple, and sweet.


Oh... but as you pull them on, when the soft cotton forces the hairs of the legs up and in the wrong direction, such a gentle caress, the hand of an imagining.

One could easily confuse it for love, or for being loved.

Just close tight the eyes of the persons in question.



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