The War On Terror

Imagine the person you love. A person you love. Somebody you once loved or almost loved. Imagine the wind whisking through their hair. Imagine their smell, their feel, their voice. Think of the way they react when you give them a surprise hug from behind. How their fingers dance across your hand, your knee, your thigh in movies that make you smile. Imagine their arms pulling you in closer, shielding you, at a movie that makes you scream. Think of how irritated/comforted/surprised/fed-up you get when their toe nails accidentally scratch you in the night. Think of one secret you’re going to tell them the next time you speak to/see/hear from/write to/email/hug/laugh with/cry with/run with/drive with/vacation with/cuddle with them again. The other secret – the one you won’t tell them until you’re both old and on your deathbeds – think of that one. Think of all the times you’ve laughed/talked/played/danced/goofed around/taken risks/watched tv/played video games/gone for walks/spent time/cried together with them in the past year. Month. Week. Day. Hour. Now imagine that suddenly, brutally, they are taken from you. When you are not tgether. When you are already missing them so much and wanting them to come home so you can tell them your secret. Imagine they are dead.

There is a war going on in our streets. I’ve seen it. The war is silent. People go missing. My friend Colin*. My friend Adam*. Missing. It is fought in isolation. With each soldier, each family, each army, each battle, treated in isolation. There are poor people dying. Young people. But it doesn’t matter because they are drug sellers and users, they are sex workers and gang members, and trannies,  homeless, and hungry, and lost. They don’t matter because they are lost. It is a massacre of the lost.

Quickhit: International Correlation Analysis/Disparity Analysis

These two sites are amazingly powerful. They take some playing around with, but once you figure out what you’re looking at…you may be shocked.

http://www.gapminder.org
http://www.worldmapper.org

Because I’m Not Sorry For This Story

Polyamoury (sometimes polyamory) is not what you think it is. No really, it’s not. It’s not always polyfidelity, it’s never polygamy or monogamy. It is polyamoury

So I am tired of being called a:
–player
–stud
–blackjack
–spade
–ace
–dickwad
–bastard
–asshole
–douchebag
–motherfucker
–asshat
–cock
–twat
–shithead
–dumbshit
–fucktard
–asswipe
–fuckface

just for living the only life I know how or want to live. Capiche? D’accord.

Please accept my sincere appologies that I cannot be monogamous, that I will not – at this time – date, fuck, mack, snog, dance with, cuddle with, hold hands with one person and only one person at a time. Okay. I will most likely only fuck, mack and snog one person at a time. However, I may fuck,mack and/or snog more than one person in a day. In a night. At a party. It’s not that I do not know how to be monogamous, I do. I do not want to be. I do not like monogamy as much as many people dislike non-monogamy. And that is okay. It is okay that they do not like non-monogamy, and that I do not like monogamy. I do not like it Sam, I Am, I do not like it, it is ham (I do not like ham either, you see). To me, monogamy is the most hypocritical thing one could do in a relationship, really. We cannot deny that we, as humans, have desires for more than one person at a time. Unless we are asexual, and hey, then we’re super cool because we don’t need other people to float our boats or bind our wrists. So, to me, it seems unnatural that we would limit ourselves, and claim to limit our desires, to only one person at a time. It does not seem fair that we should have to, when there is really no reason for it.

Monogamy is like saying to somebody whom you love so very much and so very deeply, “I trust you with my life. If I were to be admitted to a hospital tomorrow and have one hour left to live, I would like to spend it with you. But I do not trust you to fuck/mack/snog/date/hold hands with/cuddle with/get intimate with other people because you’ll leave me.” That doesn’t seem natural to me. Polyamoury seems natural because, to me, it’s saying to someone you love so much and so deeply, “I trust you with my life. If I were to be admitted to a hospital tomorrow and have one hour left to live, I would like to spend it with you. And several other people who I probably love just as much in different ways or maybe I don’t love them but I care about them or maybe I don’t even know why I want them there but we’ve fucked so many times that there just seems to be some connection that makes it necessary for them to be there *breath* and-by-the-way-feel-fine-to-fuck/mack/snog/date/hold hands with/cuddle with/get intimate with whoever you want so long as they don’t hurt you because I trust that when you say you love me, you do, and really, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

So, please. Don’t call me all the above-listed names. I really don’t appreciate it.

I Promise to Post Tonight!

In the meantime, check out this video:

Anti-Mr.Tranny Hate Mail

Two posts in one day? Say what, three? Wow!

So I’ve been getting some hate mail, which makes me so so so happy. I know I’m thinking backwards, but that’s okay. I just want to share this one with you, because I find it hilarious. Also because I recently (as of two minutes ago) figured out it’s actually from this “hate mail generator”.

“Dear sexual deviant (I believe someone called you Mr. Tranny),

I just finished reading your post about Sarah Palin, and all the other bullshit on your site, and it behoves me to say how deeply enraged I am by your words and attitude.

You’re the sort of person who is directly responsible for the Gay/”Trans” Agenda that let queers think that God will not punish them, which is sweeping  across this country.

Let me remind you that the Bible (which you probably haven’t even read – which is your first sin) clearly states that no man should lie with another man. It also states in John 5-7 that the day will come when you realize the Lord is your only salvation and God still loves you even if you are an atheist. I fear that if you continue down this path God will expend his wrath on you and you will go straight to Hell the moment that you stop breathing on this earth.

Just remember that you and your sort will be cast into the lake of fire by our loving God and spend eternity being spat on from Heaven by the saved.

But it is not too late for you to change your God-denying ways and repent by accepting the Almighty Jesus Christ as your personal savior and accepting him into your life. Devoting the rest of your life to him would be an adequate way of repenting your sins and you may even turn into a kind young women who can find a man and follow marriage the way that He intended it.

As stated in the Bible, He hath the power to cure the sick and the dying, and if you repent now you shall be guided under His hand for eternity.

You are damned by God, but you do not need to be if you repent now and accept Jesus as your personal savior!”

Hahaha. Oh my.

Sarah Dumbfuck Palin

You know what? I’m really fucking tired of Sarah Palin. I feel like every time she scratches her ass it adds something to her campaign for Vice Presidency. Because I want the President of my country to be just like me. That’s the only reason anybody has found to justify why she should be Vice President (or, shamrock boxers forbid, President) of the United States of America. I wouldn’t want the President of my country to be just like me. I would want the President to be smarter than me. I don’t want someone in office to be in office because, as an everyday citizen, they know “what the people need”. Nu-uh. I want someone to be in office who is smart enough to realize that everyone is an everyday citizen (no really, are some people only citizens on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but not Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays?) and that there are many different citizens that make up the most powerful country in the world. In fact, there are about 250 – 300 million different citizens. And they all need different things. I want somebody in office who is smart enough to understand this. I don’t think Palin is. I know Sarah Dumbfuck Palin isn’t, actually.

 

I’m not American, but I know that this election will affect me. This election will affect the world. More Canadians watched the U.S. Vice Presidential Debate than the Canadian Prime Minister Candidacy debate because the United (so united they have two radically different political parties) States of America is way more fucking powerful than Canada. And I’m sorry, but I don’t want John Toughluck McCain to be president because a) I really don’t think he’d be any better than Bush, and that terrifies me, and b) he could die. I don’t know if anyone really, truly, has thought about this. I know there’s a lot of “if, God Forbid, he did happen to pass away, and oh what a terrible and horrible day that would be and let me just say I hope it doesn’t happen but if, if, if, if it did, I would keep doing what he had done”, but honestly…he’s 70 years old.

A short list of people you may know who died between 70 and 74 years of age:

Norman Fell – 74 (Mr. Roper on Three’s Company)

Alan J. Pakula – 70 (producer/director of To Kill A Mockingbird.)

Roddy McDowall – 70 (best known for his role in Planet of the Apes)

Alan Shepard – 74 (first American in space; second man ever)

Helen Carter – 70 (country singing star)

 

That’s only from 1998. Those five people all died in 1998 between the ages of 70 and 74. But I think I’ve made my point. If, on the very odd case, you’re a complete dumbfuck, let me spell it out for you: Lots of people die between the ages of 70 and 74.

 

People who are going to die and leave stupid people in charge should not, not, be President of the most powerful country in the world. The thing that petrifies me is that Sarah Palin isn’t a complete idiot. She does have a few thoughts (a few). Such as, “oh, let’s make rape victims pay for their own forensic exams. That’ll basically make rape legal because so many of my constituents can’t afford the cost of a forensic exam. And oh, hey, while we’re at it, let’s sue the government for listing polar bears as endangered!” The very few and far between thoughts she does have are, for lack of a better word, evil.

 

And I’m fucking tired of talking about her, seeing her, hearing her stupid ASSFUCK accent. Everywhere. I. Go. I cannot talk/see/hear her anymore! It drives me so completely and thoroughly insane. Mostly because it’s fucking TERRIFYING. But also because it’s annoying bologna. Is NOBODY ELSE terrified?! Sometimes I can’t sleep at night! Is nobody ELSE feeling her Amerocentric, homocentric wrath? Hell hath no wrath like a Sarah Palin born! That’s right. I wish Sarah Palin had never been born. I said it. I don’t like to say things like that. Saying things like that makes me cringe. But I have no choice. This time I truly have no choice. I want Bush to stay. If Palin is TRULY who Americans are going to vote for, don’t bother. Amend the whatever amendment of the Constitution to allow Bush to stay. We’re better off that way. The whole entire fucking world.

My Cozy Knit Sweater

This post was inpsired pretty heavily by my friend’s post, here.

Recently, everybody’s been asking me if I’m involved in some sort of “community”. As if that will keep me safe. As if that will make me feel less burdened. As if that will solve all my problems. And when they ask I know they mean queer community. I know they mean trans community. I know they mean youth community. So I answer, “yes, I’ve been involved in the theatre community for quite some time now.” Because what else am I supposed to say when I know what answer they’re looking for but can’t give it to them? I give them the answer that I know best. And in all honesty, my answer isn’t wrong. It isn’t wrong just because everybody thinks that the queer community, or the trans community, or the youth community, or the queer youth community, or the trans youth community, or the queer-trans-youth community will help me the most. It isn’t wrong just because of all the communities I’ve been a part of (the afore-mentioned, specifically), the theatre community has helped me the most. I’m tired of being embarrassed for what I think has helped me and what I think will continue to help me through my process of transition.

The truth is, nothing fits me like theatre does. Theatre fits me like a big, brown, cozy, woolen sweater. It fits me no matter how much weight I lose or gain. It fits regardless of how much my identity may shift or stay the same. It fits me whether I am queer or straight or a non-believer in sexual orientation, and queer again. It fits me whether I’m the “right kind of trannyboy” or not. It fits me whether I wear black jeans, or blue jeans, or courderoy. And it doesn’t matter how high or low my pants ride, whether I take my hat off when I enter a room or whether I leave it on. Theatre will always fit me like that big, brown, cozy sweater.

The queer community always feels like a stiff new shirt; starched, ironed and waiting for me to fit into it. It feels like a shirt intended to shape me, not for me to shape it. Unlike the sweater, which becomes something different whenever I wear it, dependant on me to make it what it is, the stiff new shirt doesn’t need me to make it look good good. It operates on the basis that I need it for me to look good, and if I’m gonna wear it, I better fit into its boxy shape. The shirt is made to design me, for me to fit it, but never, ever, for it to fit me, for me to design it. People assume that the queer community will help me deal with things, deal with myself, because there are people like me there. No. There is no one like me. I am different than everyone else because everyone is different from everyone else. May we share the same feelings about the world? Is it possible we’ve experienced the same oppressions? Yes, absolutely. But because we are different people we approach it in different ways, from different angles. Besides all of this, I insist that I don’t really even identify as queer anymore. And to this, they laugh.

And usually say, “ah, but you are.“

Similar feelings burn in me for the trans community. I’m not even sure if there is an existant “trans community” in Toronto. There are a lot of trans individuals. There are a lot of groups of trans friends. There are a lot of trans cliques, but I don’t think I agree with the idea that Toronto has a “trans community“, we just have trans people. I was going to say that all my best tranny friends I met in the trans community, in an earlier draft of this post. Then I realized that’s not true. Most of my best tranny friends I met on the street doing drugs. Some “trans community” we have.

In the end, I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with my favourite community, the community I rely on the most, being Toronto’s theatre community. It’s my big, brown, cozy sweater, and though when I haven’t washed it enough it looks hideous, it never goes out of fashion. And it always fits.