Wednesday, September 17, 2008

shakespeare's tramlet

While I'm laying around not allowed to eat for two days so doctors can stick things in my mouth and ass (in that order, if I'm super lucky) on Friday, why not foolishly ponder what I would do if I were not, say for example, deathly ill with an incurable disease. Go back and checkout how well structured that run on sentence was. All done? Super. Have a tangent.

Late last night, as my mother and I enjoyed yet another one of our lovely "discussions" where she says I'm a sinner and I say she's an irredeemable idiot, my father began frothing at the mouth because "I contribute nothing" and "have no right to ever say anything against my parents who have done nothing but bend over backward for me, the most horrible child in the world". When I pointed out that both he and his wife were kiiiiiind of bigots he responded by saying "I can be a bigot if I want to be because this is my f*cking house and I don't like it" (and by "it" he means "all transsexuals everywhere"). Then he threw my guitar across the room that I've had since I was thirteen, smashing it so it's body has a huge crack in it. Thanks, dad. You're so right. What a great parent you've been. Thus the tangent ends. Exhuent.

I'm kind of angry. I feel like I've been very patient. Now I have this horrible illness which really feels like the last straw. I haven't been angry like this in a while. I guess mabe it's the sudden influx of testosterone back into my body? I have no idea. I need an outlet though. I want to start doing something creative again and I want to bring trans themes into what I'm doing. What do you think? Tranny punk rocker? Tranny playwright? Tranny novelist? I've got it! Tranny finger painting. Awe, yeah. You know you love it.

Well, there you have it. I'm blogging despite having nothing whatsoever to blog about. I'm just a pissed of tranny rebel without a clue. I'm bored. Being bedridden in a house full of transphobic meanies is zero fun. Cheer me up, peoples of the internet. Sing me a song and dance me a jig. I need. Have another picture from that night where I took the pictures that one time.


I'm looking at you....

9 comments:

Renee said...

I'm really terrible at cheering people up. But yeah, do something creative and cathartic...put that energy to use. And beg, borrow, or steal some other residency.

Anonymous said...

How about tranny scrapbooking? ;-)

Jamie said...

Why do I get the feeling that this post is nothing but a thinly veiled primer for your latest Doctor Who fan fic? FINALLY. I'm dying to find out whether the mounting sexual tension between The Doctor and his sardonic sexy-haired trans companion amounts to anything.

That's all I got for now. But I will harass you more later. It's what they pay me for. Entertain yourself with some superglue and your mom's shampoo in the meantime.

Luka said...

I hate to break it to you, kid, but your parents have been taken over by the Slitheen. Throwing some vinegar at them should do the trick.

Heathercam said...

I like the play/novella ..perhaps punk-musical idea. How about "the dollcage"? About the child whose parents wanted to raise a little version of themselves they could dress up as they saw fit and make do the things they wanted. And how they reacted when she realized she was her own self & not a projection of them and started to resist & rebel?
Maybe in the end she could sneak off with Mailbu Stacy to crash in the dreamhouse? But not before some cathartic mayhem ;)

Luka said...

Sorry to hear about your guitar, btw. Verbal abuse is one thing but destroying your property is quite another. On the other hand that's how Pete Townsend got the inspiration for My Generation, and as sorry as it may seem, your life is the stuff that rock operas are made of. The lyrics just need a little twist:

I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But my ma won't admit it
I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But if I say I am, I get it

Pine Point Memoirs said...

All this turmoil does sound like excellent fodder for future artistic masterpieces... too bad you gotta live through the crap to get there. *sigh*

Julie-Anne said...

You're right to be angry, because you're being treated like shit. No hormones of any sort are responsible for that.

I think you're right in that you should be creative. You're an awesome writer- why not do some more writing? :-)

rackoo said...

um I hate to be insane and paranoid, but are you sure you're not being, um, poisoned?