Confessions Of A Tree Falling In A Forest

FRIENDINISTAS,

The other day I bought some plants for the yard. I know, that’s so unlike me. My relationship to any living things that aren’t cats is pretty questionable. [ask me about bamboo & pumpkins. No, don’t]

But we’re trying to create a lush green wall between us & the neighbors—just for our own privacy & comfort—no problems w/ the neighbors in this ‘hood.

So I scouted out a nice spot for the new plants—a sun dappled area between two large pines. I stood there a moment, picturing the potential lushness & fertility.  Moonchild joined me & we remarked what a nice part of the yard it was, how we should bring our chairs over & spend more time there.

Then we went inside because it was noon & too hot to start digging & planting. I planned to return later in the afternoon. So we did our indoor stuff for a few hours, which included binge-watching Kimmy Schmidt Season 3. We started an episode around 5 o’clock & after that one I was going to head out to the yard.

Well…about halfway through the episode we heard a loud boom. Moonchild asked Was that thunder?? And if I hadn’t caught sight of a shadowy figure that looked like one of Danaerys’s dragons flying through the yard I would’ve said Yeah, that was thunder.

Instead I ran to the window to see what the flying shadow was. And there, right where we’d been standing earlier, was a big chunky limb that had fallen from one of the pine trees. 15 minutes before I was scheduled to be standing there again. It was big enough to do some serious skull, neck, or shoulder damage. Possibly a fatal blow.

As we stood there in shock & puzzlement, I had three rapid-fire thoughts:

A) wow, our guardian angels are hard at work today

B) wow, what vengeful deity is out to get us??

and finally my inner Zen master came through with C) wow, timing may not be everything but it sure is something

********************

Friends, I promised I was going to start a summer blog series called Adventures In Spirituality. And I am going to do that. I’m looking forward to doing it actually. I’ve been very busy, and…I must admit…

….I’m falling into a GREAT DEPRESSION again. I’m not (too) ashamed that I struggle with depression. I know a lot of people do. But I don’t like to go on & on about it in my sacred blog space which I reserve for fun stuff like stream-of-conscious poetry.

When I went through this in 2014, I only told a few close friends & didn’t write much about it. But I’m seeing lots of folks going through some size or shape of depression these days—and surprisingly, it’s mostly GUYS who are talking about it. So it feels kind of gender appropriate for me to join in.

Usually when I’m feeling depressed I stay busier than usual & refrain from bothering people; I do art therapy, I write, sing, read awesome books; I talk to Moonchild until he reminds me I’m not any worse at being human than anyone else. I seek professional help if needed.

I’ve already done all of those things ^^^^ this year and I keep spiraling down. Being “busy” doesn’t really cure depression—it often adds stress & anxiety to the equation. Or it holds it at bay until you’re un-busy again. But it’s impossible to sit still when you are deep in the shit, as I seem to be now.

The thing I didn’t get until recently is: if you struggled with depression in your youth it doesn’t necessarily get better with time, it usually gets worse. The more you know about the world, the harder it is to distract yourself. The more medications you’ve tried, the harder it is to find ones that work. All medications lose their effectiveness over time.

And some even leave you feeling worse over time. That’s why I tried so hard, for so long to manage without medication. But I caved in 2014 & latched onto the big pharma-tit…It was a necessary evil at the time. I felt relief from the indescribable anguish that was plaguing me, but I also felt exploited, gauged, monitored & profiled by the corporate health care beast.

[Oh, did I tell you I lost insurance coverage last week? They (United) decided my “condition” didn’t meet the standards of approval for coverage of the medication I’m using to treat it. I suppose this will be happening to many of us. It feels very violating to be reviewed as unfit for coverage.] 

I miss the days when the liquor store was my pharmacy.

The death of Chris Cornell really hit me hard. I’ve read a lot about his struggle in the week since he passed & I marvel at what a valiant fighter he was. Especially in light of the nihilistic movement he was part of. He was the one I’d assumed had found that magic combination of strength / love / creative talent / medicine / realistic expectations.

But even with that auspicious alignment of elements, depression can kick you right into the abyss.

Suicide has been a big presence in my life lately. Last summer a friend committed suicide & it left me questioning everything I’d assumed about “pushing through it” or “staying busy” or “not bothering people with your personal shit.” Because if anyone was able to push through & stay busy & not burden others it was her. 

Until she couldn’t do it anymore.

Then I read the Tiptree biography and found yet another literary hero who ended his(her) own life. So many, many literary heroes end their own lives. I used to take comfort in knowing this author or that one had been as depressed as me—that I at least was in good company. Now it scares me, and makes them much more human to me (though no less heroic).  

The show 13 Reasons Why slunk its cold tentacles around my heart in April.

And this week Cornell’s passing has me just … just….what? Asking for strength? Striving for clarity? Willing myself not to do the same thing to my own loved ones?

It’s a precarious time for me to be delving into Spirituality because I feel vulnerable to the temptation of Big Answers. I sometimes yearn for Bigger Answers than I’ve already received on this plane, but I’ve also come to terms with knowing that I’m not supposed to know everything. 

[Like why did a tree limb narrowly miss falling on my head the other day??]

I also know it’s risky to talk (write) about “religion & politics.” And for good reason—peoples’ religious & political beliefs tend to define the core of their beings. So I will try to tread carefully & not use my dickish Blog Emperor voice when relaying my personal stories.

So get ready! Next time in The Octopus Diary—Adventures in Spirituality: Xtianity Part One! 

I’lll also keep you updated on the “medical situation” if I can bear to write about it.

I’m also still accepting submissions of personal, political, heartfelt, newsworthy, ranting & surreally raving poetry.

Also….if you are not a Friendinista, you are not required to read this. You CAN look away.  

BLESS YOUR LITTLE TENTACLES

Hello Friends,

How’s everyone doing? Are we keeping our heads on despite how violently they might be spinning? It’s

the cognitive equivalent of the Gravitron out there and I hope we’re not all covered in vertiginous puke.

I don’t contribute much to the political cacophony because I don’t have much to add to what everyone else is already spewing. I know that means I’m a privileged white person* who “doesn’t have to care.” Wrong. I care. I have called (state & federal) officials and left them messages which I only hope they got. Now that my foot is healed I am going to volunteer at a place that’s being hard hit by reform, and which means a lot to me personally, and where I feel I can actually do some good. I do what I can without constantly bitching about it. 

I still have a lovely personal life which is as important to me as what’s going on in the world. Sorry for that. Sorry for being an individual in these times of collective outrage. But it’s the only way for me to stay sane and remember what the outrage is all about.

What I’m really waiting for is for the impeachment police to come knocking on the White House door. I’m waiting for our wonderful system of checks & balances to accuse our lunatic-in-chief of Treason. Most of all I’m waiting for a team of medical experts attended by international law enforcement to come and kindly Baker Act this motherfucker (and his loverboy Putin) for much longer than 72 hours.

I’m waiting for a do over of the whole thing. I’m waiting for New Rules—if an election and its results turn out to be so fraudulent it threatens the very fabric of our Constitution, we can do it all over again. And maybe that threatens the very fabric of the Constitution too, but we’re at a place where so many threads have been pulled, loosened from the loom, soon there may be no fabric left at all.

I’m tired of all the noise over each & every misstep. There are too many, every day, every hour; every tweet a talking point for days. Let’s get this over with. 

I’m sick of “While YOU were distracted by THIS, here’s what was really going on (big rape-y Trump administration move)” memes. We’re ALL being distracted by everything he does, it’s a multi-ring circus, and I’m a complex human who CAN pay attention to all of it. 

I’m not such a simpleton that I’m only concerned with trans bathroom issues, or the repeal of the ACA, or the death of the EPA, or how many hits this blog gets from Russia. I can see it all and still have time to care what the Kardashians are wearing and still have time to make more refrigerator art for you. Now that’s privilege.

*I was a poor white girl who grew up to be a middle class trans man, so I do qualify for the special snowflake Olympics, I just don’t get a medal.

*******

One thing that does scare me to death and makes my skin crawl like maggots is this Religious Freedom Order. Not so much the Order itself (which only concerns the fining of churches that align themselves with specific political issues), but the religious groups that are clamoring for MORE religious freedom than the Constitution already grants so they can use it to discriminate against a) women and their inconvenient childbearing bodies and b) the LGBT community. These extreme right conservatives who see Xtians as a persecuted group right here in America and want the Trump administration to Help Us! Help Us! Save us from these married queers and men in dresses! Save the precious little white babies because humans are such an endangered species!

If you know me, or read my last blog, you know I have very little patience for religion. Any religion really, especially the most orthodox & extreme versions of those religions. Nothing creeps me out more than indoctrination of thought-conformity, and the moralistic restrictions that thought conformity makes on the individual.

I would rather watch a roomful of gays & lesbians enjoying themselves in orgiastic bliss than see a bunch of people praying—whether they be a mass of Xtians in a church or a swarm of Muslims responding to their timed loudspeaker ululation. 

I would rather have some creepy slimeball make trans-phobic remarks to me than have some churchlady say I’ll pray for you.

Why? I’m not sure. In the first instance I would feel able to defend myself, and I would feel justified in defending myself against the slimeball’s ignorance. In the second instance, I would feel that someone was trying to manipulate me with their (perceived) moral superiority.

It’s been many years since I’ve felt the encroachment of religious extremists. I felt them loud & clear in the 1980s when I first became aware of them. In the 90s they were still there, just not as loud. Then in the early 00s, the evil Muslim extremist v. the good Xtian people of America dynamic rose up like so much phoenix-shit from the twin towers.

It was a different sort of religious conversation, but the “moral superiority” of white Xtian Americans was still the underlying message.

Under the Obama administration, one thing I appreciated was that religion was put in its place, ie it was not invoked as a political talking point at every opportunity. Religion and state were kept separate, as they are intended to be.

I started to believe that the American people had grown up, come to their senses & realized what religion and/or spirituality were. That those were acceptable tools for personal growth, and for comforting one’s self in dark times, but they weren’t to be used as the basis for legislation. 

Of course, I was wrong to assume that. I made an ass of myself assuming that. For here we are, back in what looks like The Dark Ages to me.

I mentioned in my last blog that I have family members who take moral issue with my identification as a trans guy. They don’t want their precious children to be tormented by the sight of their “aunt” becoming their “uncle.”

[What they really don’t want is to have to answer difficult questions about gender or God’s will or Mommy, why can’t I dress up like a girl?  They don’t want their children to be aware of any options except the ones they present to them. Because it’s easier that way. Or so they think.]

[And some of you are probably shocked to know that after 11 years of estrangement, I am reunited with (most of) my family. That’s another story altogether…]

BUT, what I do want to do, in this Era of Seriousness, is explore my attitudes about religion. WHY do I hate it so? What life experiences led me SO far away from embracing conservative values?

In the past few months I’ve had to acknowledge and try to empathize with people who are as uncomfortable with who I am as I am uncomfortable with who they are. I really get it now that some people do see me as an abomination in the eyes of their god.

BUT—another big BUT here!—I want to refer back to this story that gendermom posted on her blog:

A southern Baptist mother whose child came out to her as trans at the age of 3, how she handled it, how she was treated by her “church family”, and what a wise therapist? pastor? said to shed light on who she was really trying to please—God or the congregation of sheeple who were judging her?

It also shed light on my own reason for disliking religious groups so passionately. Listen here

So…what I’m going to do in the coming weeks is write candidly about all my forays into different kinds of religion/spirituality.

I’ll bet lots of you will be surprised that I have tried to embrace Xtianity in my life. A few different times. I never did take to it, but next time in The Octopus Diary I give you

ADVENTURES IN SPIRITUALITY PART ONE: XTIANITY !!!!!

Keep your submissions coming. I still have only two. I’ll post the guidelines again soon.

May 6: The Year of the WriteDudes™ Metallic Neon Gel Pen

Fiendish Friends,

Happy Sesto de Mayo. I hope you’re all doing better than I am. Not that I’m doing poorly, but this year so far has been subpar. After a gorgeous year like 2016, I’m afraid all years are going to look a little inferior.

So far, 2016 was the most exciting year of my life (even counting those years before 1985 when my hyper-memory began). Childhood sucked. It was more like a miniature adulthood. But what can you say about the year you began transforming into the beautiful horny swan you were meant to be? Just good-bye Bowie, Prince, & Princess Leia, hello me.

This year has been full of worry, anxiety, injury, inertia, and lack of inspiration. And yet, I’m not complaining. My life is still very good—I’m just worried about the bigger picture because, ya’ll, it looks a little … forged, vandalized, just an empty quadrilateral on a dusty wall.  <<< [I’m trying to do an art heist metaphor here & it’s failing.]

Speaking of Art, I’ve already done 100% more art this year than last year, and it’s not because I’m inspired. It’s because art is my therapy & I didn’t need it last year.

****************

Friends, I was watching Ellen the other day as I often do in the afternoons and I didn’t realize it had been 20 years since her “coming out” episode.

I never saw the episode even though I did Identify as a queer woman back in the 90s. I was very, very busy in 1997: going to school, working two jobs, drinking full time & hiding the fact that I was trans. Oh, the things you can do in your 20s!!

But I was aware of the episode. I heard all about it from those people who did have time to watch TV. Wow, it was such a big deal! But what I really didn’t know about was the huge backlash Ellen’s coming out cost not only her, but all gay people.

I was too busy in the real world—and there wasn’t The Internet back then—to feel the surge of conservatism that followed. But Ellen reminded us all of it on her daytime talk show last week. 

Not only was her sitcom canceled, not only did she receive death threats and become the butt of the late night comics’ jokes, and have to go underground for her own safety…

…but all the other actors on the show were targeted as well. And they weren’t even gay. Oprah and Laura Dern (who had cameos on the episode) were deemed lesbians-by-association. Dern couldn’t get any film roles for 2 years after that. Oprah was allegedly having an impure love affair with her best friend Gayle and lost a lot of viewer support.

Violence against gay people escalated—the brutal slaying of Matthew Shepard happened the following year. Not to mention the less-publicized incidents that we remain oblivious to.

2 versions of Tiptree Art

After the episode aired, Oprah did have Ellen on her show to try to talk through some of the backlash that was happening—

and Ellen showed some of that footage on her current show—These angry god-fearing, big-haired Xtian ladies shouting “Go ahead and be gay in your own home, but why do you have to announce it on television??? I don’t want my CHILDREN to see that!!!!”

Oh the fucking CHILDREN.

It was hard to watch. It was hard for me to learn that while I raced around in my own hectic, self-medicated world, all that was going on in the queer community. Part of me is glad I was unaware, but another part of me is like—why wasn’t I out there fighting, protesting, standing up against the ignorance? I was getting my own taste of sexist/homophobic treatment in the workplace, but I thought that was just what I deserved for…being.

The scary thing is, that’s what I hear the conservatives saying about transgender people now—

“Go ahead & dress up in your queer little uniforms behind closed doors, but don’t you dare bring yourself out in the light of day where my CHILDREN can see you [and possibly identify with you].”

Keep yourselves on the down-low, you perverts.

Not Suitable For Children

There are people in my own family who don’t want me near their CHILDREN. And that’s okay—I made up my mind quite awhile ago that I am a *Not Suitable For Children* adult.

But that doesn’t mean all gay & trans people are not suitable for children. Or that even unsuitable people like myself shouldn’t be seen by children. There are ALL sorts of people in this world, and you can only force your precious children not to see them for 18 years, then you’re out of luck.

Your children do become gross adults one day. Maybe gross gay or trans adults, no matter how closely you monitor their lives or gate their communities while they’re young. Gay & trans people do exist within conservative families—HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO LEARN THAT LESSON??? How many gay/trans kids have to end their own lives before we get it?

(and I know some conservatives will say, hopefully all of them)

Not Suitable For Children

I know lots of gay & trans people who do embrace Xtianity. A disturbing number actually. And that may be its own sort of backlash—like, look at me, I may be gay/trans but I accept the Lord & I know the Lord loves me as I am, so na-na-na. I don’t think I’d understand religion no matter how I identified, so it’s hard for me to understand why any marginalized group would embrace the institutions that marginalize them.

ANYWAY…back to ELLEN. I have always loved & appreciated her for her humor and kindness. But now I really do know how brave she was in the face of hostile criticism, mockery, potential danger. How much she deserved the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

It’s hard to tell how much things have improved when they keep going forward then backward—how much our cultural awareness has expanded when it suddenly contracts once again.

But, when I look at the big (stolen, forged, vandalized) picture, I can see that we are, mostly, moving in a forward direction. 

**************************

All right. That’s enough of that—I got kind of EMOTIONAL watching Ellen’s 20 year anniversary show, and I know you all love emotions.

But I’m trying to embrace my emotional nature lately rather than suppressing it. I’ve tried to suppress my emotions all my life, for your benefit, and I’m not doing it anymore, because it does not benefit me.

Not Suitable For Children

What I will be doing, however, is Taking your poetry submissions!!!!

That’s right. I would like to share this Octopus Space with other poets. It will be a total Vanity Project, so I expect I will get ZERO submissions from anyone, but here are some

OCTOPUS DIARY SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:

Send me your tired, your poor, your literary stepchildren rejected by all the other reputable journals.

I am open to a wide variety of topics and styles, but here’s what I don’t like:

▶︎Preachy stuff — the I-have-heard-the-voice-of-God-and-here-is-what-it-says type poems. 

If you use vague, general words like Universe, Fate, Chaos, God, Nature please get more specific—which aspect of nature? which of the many gods? Describe the chaos in great detail, don’t leave me hanging. I was a doomsday poet in my youth, but I at least managed to nail some of the details. Please give me details so I know what to expect from the current era’s day of doom.

 ▶︎Derivative stuff — I like Bukowski as much as the next guy, but what I want is YOU. I love the personal—can’t you tell? I don’t want copycat styles unless you want to try to copy e.e. cummings (that might be interesting). I know many publications frown on using the word ‘I’ too much, but I do not. I want your I’s. 

Just think, in this day & age, using capital letters and punctuation is rebellion at its finest. Use them rebelliously and I’ll love it.

▶︎Boring stuff about flowers or how pretty the sky is. Just don’t do that to me.

▶︎I don’t LOVE rhyming poetry, or formal styles (sonnets, ghazals) but if they’re good I DO love them. So it’s not an absolute ‘no’ on those, but please…make them interesting & personal in some way.

▶︎I like stuff ABOUT sexism, racism, homophobia, etc..just don’t BE racist, sexist, homophobic, capiche?

Give me your pain, your fears, your triumphs in a cruel world, your bizarre point of view and I’m sure I will enjoy it.

Send your darlings to me via Facebook messenger, or if we’re not friends on Facebook, friend me, then send them to me via Facebook messenger. That’s the only way I will be taking the first round of submissions. I would love to hear from my writer friends of course, but I would also like submissions from people who don’t usually submit poetry or even write it. I want you to dig deep and challenge yourself. 

It’s for the Octopusses. And the CHILDREN.