I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks.

Dear Courtney,

I shouldn't even try to apologize because there's not enough time or words to adequately redeem myself. I fuck you up, and you fuck me up, and it's part of the charm and appeal and desperation and what was the question again?

I shoot up junk for the same reason I smoke pot, for the same reason I smoke cigarettes, for the same reason I drink beer, for the same reason I drink coffee, for the same reason I go to the movies, for the same reason the fucker across the street watches the same stupid video 30 times with my ugly face. For the same reason you don't think of me anymore.

But that's not true. I know I haunt you, and I'm sorry for that too. I understand what hellhounds sound and feel like, and if I knew a way to let go of your heart I would do so, but right now it sustains me.

I sometimes can't remember how you look. This is why I don't grieve. For fear of forgetting. I'm sure you look better now than you ever have in your entirely life. Or so I've heard. I've even seen it with my own two eyes in the reflection of the train window this morning. Will my image of you ever go away? Should it?

I'm the face of might-have-been and what-will-come. I am not the face of death. That is the myth I am most sorry for promulgating.

I'll grow up soon and leave my coward self behind. I hope you'll still be around. I know you will.

I love you.

All apologies,
Kurt

birth of a baby boy

I unintentionally let my 9 month hormone mark slip by me. It was July 24th, which was the day after my trip to Vermont. I remembered, I just neglected to comment.

Today I was sort of amazing myself when looking at my reflection, and how my clothes are falling off my body and spilling down in different ways. My arms are more uniform shape....like they don't taper at my wrist as much. I have hair on my hands. The hair on my legs is visible in only the light of the tv (I noticed this last night) -- this probably doesn't make sense...... My neck fits into my shoulders differently -- I've definitely gone up in collar-size. I think my hands are differently shaped, but I can't quite figure out how. The changes are complicated by my weight loss -- like I'm not sure what comes from what, though they are all related. My belly fuzz is certainly more significant, and now I'm even getting more chest fuzz. Which is a little weird seeing as my chest is not...typical, so to speak. But it actually doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I think I'm sort of embracing my genderqueer gynandrousness. So to speak. In other words, to quote a certain someone my gender rules. I decided last night to start wearing earrings again, but of course I don't have any decent ones, but luckily it's HalstedMarketDays this weekend, which means plenty of booths with faggy/dykey silver hoops. I think I want some thick chunky ones...maybe I'll even start getting my holes stretched....but anyway, I digress. Back to my gender-which-rules.
One of the interns this summer who I've been hanging out with asked me yesterday if I had already had surgery. She was also pretty amazed that I had been on hormones for less than a year. She thought I had been transitioning for several years. This made me feel good about my level of masculinity. And just as I suspected, as my physical masculine presence grows, my trans/genderqueer/multi-gendered/female-experience self is coming out more. As I said to a certain someone not to long ago, "I"m glad I have a pussy." I guess if there was some utopian wish-granting going on, I would perhaps wish for a working copy of all types of equipment, with the option to remove or use any or all at any time I want. Hell, if you're going to do pointless wishing, you might as well go the full ride, eh?
I guess I just feel really okay with myself right now. This was one of the nice things to come out of my experience on Tuesday. I was able to have this total moment of bottom desire where I was able to be in my body while it was being viewed and, surprise, surprise, I liked it. Yes, I liked my body. Who the fuck knew. Not me. Will this last? Probably not. But who cares. The fact that I'm able to possess it for any fleeting moment is pretty miraculous.

[Why do I feel like Joe is stalking me through the radio?]

(no subject)

Yay for my friends Br___ and St___ who are coming to my apartment tonight. I wanted to do something social, but not high intensity, nor did I actually want to leave the house. (This is normally where a girlfriend or best fried come in handy, but both are out-of-town.) So I think we're going to watch some Sex & the City, maybe play a game or two. And their arrival will force me to do some apartment straightening.....

Tomorrow I'm going to Market Days to see the Chicago Kings and hang out with Mi__ and Ti___. Perhaps in the evening I'll harass Co___ who can't come to Market Days because of some school assignment. Definitely must do some laundry this weekend. I hope it will be a nice blend of social and alone time. I guess that pretty much depends on me though. The interns here have been giving me shit today, asking if I have another date this weekend. They get a kick out of ethical slut-ness, even if it's not coming to fruition as ideally as I'd like. I think they like to live vicariously through me.

In other exciting news, I've been asked to DJ an event in Chicago in september being done by this really cool coalition that works on crossover race and queer issues -- my co-worker here and another friend are on the planning committee. Unfortunately, it's the date of Melanie's uncle's wedding, so it will be yet another event that I DJ where she'll be out of town. But this also means that by the time she sees me, I'll be extra good since I'll have several gigs under my belt. Anyway, when more details are available, I'm sure I'll post an invite, for those who are actually in the chicago area.

I didn't get everything done today, but I got a lot. So I feel pretty good and productive -- a nice way to cap off the week.