Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Another day, another whimsy






I rode my bike to the farmers' market yesterday, wandered around for a bit, ate a salmon sushi burrito. Yes, you read that correctly, a raw salmon burrito. The day was hot, the evening hardly improved. I lingered, was bored. I stopped by the pub on the ride home and had a couple beers. The beers were pleasant, though I do not miss the hops much. It was nice to just sit in the pub and chat with some of the regular crew. After many years of testing I decree that wine (red) is preferable to beer. Taking a break from both of them has caused me to be more aware of the impulses towards each. I love beer, but wine is more inviting.

I missed the gym and my usual bike ride this morning. I lolled in bed and convinced myself that my pinched nerve was preventatively painful. 


Everyone was happy to see me at the pub, Several commented on how good I looked, how healthy, and how much weight I had lost. At one point I went to the bathroom and noted that I did look healthy and clean in my white CK shirt. Jeff, a bartender was also in the bathroom and gave me encouraging words, then he hugged me. I'm pretty sure that means that I am transgender.

I do want to try a little transgendering soon, see what all of the fuss is about. 

I should stop joking. For those who are trapped in an identity that is not that of their own body it must be difficult and perplexing. For me it is merely humorous. I am a liberal, but I am also very immature, childlike in laughter. 

They do seem to have a lot of fun though, the transies, so there must be deep reservoirs of pain there. Not everyone can transmute dissatisfaction into the creative impulse, nor should we expect that of them. There is already a surplus of bad art and music. Being able to laugh freely must emerge as a survival trait. Pressure and pain do sometimes result in the most beautiful of compensatory acts. Those who tussle most with feelings of incompleteness draw upon deep unseen wells of turbulence and terror, when identity is defined as illness and the characteristics of gender left to blow against the prevailing winds, or to scratch against bathroom walls in the hope of escape or entrance.  




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