Extra Celestial Shoe Sale

AHOY FRIENDS!!

How is your world?

The one I can't see unless you tell me all about it?

The one I could guess if your eyes contacted mine

But I have unlisted lenses

Private corneas

My pupils are not in your network

*******

Sorry I haven't been forthcoming with any ART or even the avalanche of WORDS you look forward to here in the Octopus Diary.

I'm getting used to my new brain/body chemistry. While I don't necessarily subscribe to the idea of the "male brain" and the "female brain", I definitely feel different with my new chemicals.

I haven't found a way to convince my brain that painting is just as fun as pornography. Don't worry--I will remember how to paint and write poetry again. I'm not too concerned about being suspended in a pubescent time warp for the last 3 months. It's been rather enlightening : ))

I am thrilled & amazed by the transition so far. I can't believe how great it is to not have the hormonal roller coaster of femininity controlling my every moment.

I can't believe my legs are like pork instead of porridge. 

I can't believe how well I sleep now. Sleep!!!! It is a gift I never dreamt I would receive!

I can't believe I have the energy to handle all the piddly little crap life always throws at you on top of all the big important stuff it throws at you too. 

Let's see…other changes include: 

Shady little coffee moustache making an appearance in the right light

More nose hair!! (must be vigilant for crusty goblins)

Losing all firmness of breast tissue. Atrophy. It feels so much better not to have big lumpy messes on my chest, but now they are pretty floppy & unperky & that creates a whole different level of dysphoria. But they are easier to deal with in their flaccid state.

I'm terribly self-conscious that everything I say is "mansplaining." I thought I would just adore being a Mansplainer, but I find myself censoring everything I say because I don't want to be THAT guy.

Like I said, I am loving the transformation. It sure fucking beats menopause, which is another terrific thing ladies have to look forward to after decades of involuntary hormonal torment. 

I realize that a lot of people still don't understand what it "feels like" to be Transgender. And a lot of people want me to explain it to them. And I try. I have tried. Hell, most of what I've posted in The Octopus Diary is about feeling dysphoric in a female body.

And despite the Trans Community's insistence that we don't say "HELP!!! I'm trapped in the wrong body!!!!" That is the only way I know how to describe it. To me, being female was the ultimate sickness, the ultimate amputation, the ultimate degradation of my fragile ego.

If I have to explain any further, I'm afraid you'll never understand.

**********

As far as the whole Bathroom Issue goes…I don't have much more to say about that either. It's being talked about in big media forums & it used to be something I only heard about in my support groups. 

All I can say is--some of the scariest bathroom incidents in my life took place in the girls' restrooms in middle & high school. Girl on girl violence. Eating disorders. Aqua Net fumes. Queen bees monopolizing the mirrors. Menstrual meltdowns. 

And like I said before, the Bathroom Issue may seem like a First World non-problem especially since some countries don't even have running water (a reason many girls stop going to school). And I still say any civil rights advancements that happen here will eventually benefit the rest of the world. Will it take time? Yes. But does it need to happen? Fuck yeah. 

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

NOW…the reason I am posting this boring repetitive blog!!

Most of you know I used fashion to feel better about being "femme" & I have a lot of girl clothes that I'm not using anymore. So I'm having a SALE!!!

Be excited because I'll be selling stuff for less-than-Goodwill prices.

Dresses (mostly Small/Medium sizes 2--6)

T's and Shirts (Small/Med)

Pants, Jeans, Shorts (mostly 3--7)

Shoes (6--7)

Plus hats, accessories, bathing suits, socks. It all needs to go!

So if you/your daughter/your girlfriend are looking for interesting & cheap additions to your closet--

Come to my garage on Saturday May 21 (PM me for details on how to get to my garage)

All proceeds from the Sale will go to renovating our garage into a creative space for podcasts, plays, and crash space for touring bands!!

**********

As always, thank you for reading my shallow, incoherent thoughts. I will have art--Trust Fund Baby & Shelter Cat comix--soon. I'm just waiting for Trumpf to pick a running mate so I know what name to give Shelter Cat.

Excuse Me, Where's The Restroom For Zoroastrians?

FRIENDS,

My neural pathways were forged in satire. You know this already. 

But the world is saturated in satire. It's dripping off the walls of the internet and invading our very senses. 

I learned the language of satire in order to introduce my own unpopular worldview to humans who may not understand it if I tried to say it too directly. But through the collective spewings of the internet we've all learned that everyone's worldview is popular, unpopular, acceptable, unacceptable, flakey, snowy and unicornical.

I also know that satire comes in varying degrees of effectiveness. Sarah Silverman and Stephen Colbert are great at delivering satire. There are the legions of  faceless meme generators who are okay at satire. Me? I have come to terms with my utter mediocrity, my extreme averageness. Unspecial unicornitude. My satire skills are filed under "who the fuck cares what this lame dumpling is trying to say."

And really, what am I ever trying to say but "There are too many people on this planet and we're all kind of stupid about it."

Coming to terms with one's own mediocrity is a tough proposition. It rearranges the feng shui of the once integrated self and there you are--strewn across your timeline like so much roadkill,

My ego has gone limp. It dangles between my temporal lobes like a mental ghost-penis. It no longer thrusts its way through time drooling on life's banquet. But something else has risen in its place. Something less hungry and more satisfied. Neutral. Peaceful.

And I want that to be what I project now--not my righteous anger at the way things are, but my confidence that things are changing into exactly what I envisioned.

Frankness, sincerity, authenticity are the communication devices of the day and I'm struggling to unlearn my own programming. Bear with me.

ART!!!!!!!

*******BATHROOMS and TRANS CIVIL RIGHTS

So…in my last blog I wrote a scathing & ineffectual satire on the current transgender battleground--public restrooms.

Now that people-of-transitioned-gender are known to exist among us--and in greater numbers than we ever dreamed--we have suddenly taken great interest in their bathroom habits.

Moonchild hates it when I'm reduced to talking about pee-pees & va-jayjays & chocolate starfishes, but I hope my readers understand it is the opponents of transgender rights who always make it about pee-pees and vjayjays. I mock them to highlight their immaturity at the risk of sounding immature myself.

It's still mostly religious opposition. I am blown away by the support I get from religious & non-religious people alike. But there is a certain segment of the Xtian faith that has always been slow to come around. These people have always angered & confused me and to them I would propose we divide our restrooms as following: XTIANS and ATHEISTS.

(Sorry, Muslims and Jews would have to find faith-neutral facilities, and there's no telling where those would be. And if you are of a faith I haven't even mentioned here, well…you're too marginal to have a restroom made just for you. You can shit where you lay.)

There you have it--more satire. Just what you didn't want. And for those who may be thinking--"Gee, transgender bathroom rights, sounds like a first world problem to me" The world looks to countries like Norway, Sweden, & even the U.S. for their human rights crusades. If the people of NCarolina can repeal the HB2 anti-LGBT laws, then maybe someday there will be girls' restrooms built at schools in Afghanistan and Uganda. (and someday after that, trans-friendly facilities EVERYWHERE!!! )

Remember these two?

But I'd like to ask what my friends really think--Does it gross you out to share the restroom with a trans person?

Most of this discussion revolves around transwomen in the ciswomen's bathroom. If men are allowed to "dress up as ladies" and go into that bathroom, then how many perverts are going to dress themselves as women just to have access to their prey? And if the transwoman is forced to use the men's room? Do we care what could happen to her then?

And what about trans guys? They are probably more at risk using the men's room than any cisgirl is sharing the restroom with a transgirl. And should trans guys be using the ladies room? 

Moonchild was always puzzled as to why I hated public restrooms so much. Often it was because a restroom door symbolically "outs" you every time you open it. People see you going in and out of the woman's restroom--you are a woman.

Should trans people have to "out" themselves to people who may have not pegged them as trans? Or to people who may not be cool with it?

I don't know. It may not be the most imperative issue on the planet, but it affects my life directly so I'm giving it some attention. I work from home, so I really can "leave my bladder at home." But most people don't have that option. They have to pee during working hours. If I know I'm going out, I monitor my fluid intake if possible. I just don't want to have to be forced to choose a restroom. This isn't possible for all trans people.

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

All right. I'm gonna go. This is where I tell you what projects You will find in upcoming episodes of the Octopus Diary. For now I'm not promising anything but always be on the lookout for

1. stream of consciousnesses

2. Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby comix

3. To be better humans, we need better bodies to be human in. That is why I designed an upgraded species of humanoid. 

a) They don't need to eat (or poop!)

b) Though there are 2 sexes (we'll still call them male & female until I figure something out) they are not so very different from each other that they are opposites on a lengthy spectrum. They are more…COMPLEMENTARY.

c) Incubation and childbirth happen OUTSIDE the body.

I'm stoked about these upgrades. I wish I could live long enough to see the fruits of this evolution. But the most I can do is write a book of love poems to & from people with alien genitalia.

*********when I envisioned an androgynous future, I didn't so much picture 80 million gender identities as I did 2 genders that were not too different from each other. But I'll take it any way it has to happen. And if that's 7 billion ways…then I can wait.

I'm Not Dumb I'm Counter-intelligent

I always wanted to be an asshole. It's sad but true. I always wanted to be that guy who feels entitled to strut around like he's God's gift.

More recently I've yearned to be the internet version of that guy--the Troll. The one who feels entitled to instigate and antagonize because he's just that confident he will come out on top if any sort of intellectual showdown breaks out. 

The rooster who feels entitled to wake the world.

Now I'm afraid I will become one of those rooster-guys if my T-levels ever get past the 400 mark.

I went to the T-Doctor yesterday and she asked why my voice hasn't changed yet. My voice has gotten kinda scratchy & raspy but not deep. She thought it didn't seem right. So after my next injection and blood work, she's going to see about increasing my dose.

I'm writing today just to keep my beloved blog active. Not because I have anything to say. Certainly not because I have done any artwork lately. I know you all are CLAMORING for The Adventures of Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby…

…but my brain is operating in strange ways these days. My brain used to be this quick-flickering always turned-on thing. Now my brain works at a slower, more deliberate pace. And it's definitely turned on by things other than lyrical phrases and clairvoyant images.

Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby are the best of friends.

They go for walks in their wealthy gated community.

They find things on their walks.

They misinterpret what these things are and hilarity ensues. Their naivete is priceless.

I've written the script for the first episode. But I haven't found the will or concentration to sit down and draw it.

***********Speaking of Penises,

How did we go from the 20-oughts

To the 20-tens? 

I know history moves in little backward crescents, then surges forward in larger arcs

But the back pedaling of the past 2 years has been atrocious

It is the first time in my life that I would use the word

FAITH

To describe what I'm feeling rather than HOPE

I have (secular, humane) faith that the world will move forward again

Because I can't find hope anywhere inside me

And I guarantee you, I guarantee 

My dick is smaller than yours but I'm still grateful for what I have

I miss 2004 -- 2008

The Bush years, which made the Reagan years look like Utopian bliss, are looking

Very peachy under Trump's fluorescent-brassy-gumboesque lighting

*******************If we're not talking about penises

Then no one is listening.

So, what can I say about it?

I'm afraid to die in the public restroom

When I was a girl, a sad angry little strumpet

In my black skirts & flannel shirts

With my long ebony locks & privileged goth complexion

I would go in the Men's room without blinking

Without caring who saw me or who I saw

It was usually fine. Usually no one saw & if they did

They laughed, or corrected me "This is the MEN'S room, hon"

Once a guy got angry though

"Hey!!!! Get outta here!!! You don't belong in here!!!!"

Crouching over his pissing dick, making me wonder if he had warts or

Some deformity ...

That was at Denny's.

And I did belong in there. It was 1993.

But now???????? Now that Transgender is on everyone's radar

And I'm not using the Men's room ironically

I know the rules have changed

And I could be slandered, or killed, or worse PREACHED at.

I think we should have separate restrooms for Pooping & Peeing

Not for Men & Women  

Nothing I hate more--besides violence & terrorism--

Than someone farting & shitting away right next to me in the public loo

Women don't have dicks. They suck. Yeah, they suck OUR dicks. Bro!!! Women deserve to pay more for health care. They deserve a tampon tax. They don't have dicks. How do they live with themselves??

I don't know, man.

Is this a poem? Yeah let's call it poetry!!!!

This is poetry of the highest artistic merit. 

Yurrr Majesty.

Starbucks on Beneva & Bee Ridge, FUCK YOU!! You are poorly laid out and the most uncivil engineering I've ever tried to navigate. What the fuck am I doing here?? Oh, TAXES. Hopefully not death.

What if I dropped a PUSSY bomb? Would riots break out? Would our faces contort in plasmatic disbelief? Let's try it…

Oh no…I can't…too gross….just kidding…

PUSSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>^..^

=========> dickretaliation

(*) chocolatestarfish exit plan

Kalashnikov Dysphoria

HEY!!! Friends!

I wanted to add this to my thoughts on 'PuberSpace'---

I get a little flipped out when I read accounts of people who transition (genderwise) and have somehow been deemed gender dysphoric but claim they have not experienced any distress about being born in the wrong body.

????????????????????????????????????????????????

Whaaaaa??????

I know this is the new THING in the transgender narrative. "Sure I felt the need to medically transition, but it wasn't because I felt bad about my body." I struggle to understand this, because….if it weren't for how bad I feel about this body I wouldn't have sought help to change it.

If I felt okay in a female body, but felt a little masculine-of-center, then I would be just fine "dressing the part." Carrying on as a tomboy or an unlady-like lady. (<< all things I've been accused of anyway)

But I've felt so bad in this body it has held me back in life. I don't even like going out of my house. I don't want to interact with my fellow humans because well…all interactions between humans are gendered & my body was a big flashing sign that said "Treat me like an inferior object!" No matter how I covered it up or acted detached from it---there it always was.

[On the flipside, I've also tried to enjoy being treated like a female--like an object. Pretty! Sexy! Nicely dressed! It was a game. It could be fun, but felt like such a clown-circus-lie-fest.]

Now I think I'm starting to understand why we would want to remove being Transgender from the category of being Mentally Ill.

We want Transgender to be something more like IBS. Something is not quite right, so we take our medication for it. But it doesn't mean we're Craaayyyyyy-zayyyyyyy! Or depressed or distressed or incapacitated in any way.

Right now, as mentioned in the previous blog, to receive medical treatment for gender dysphoria you need a note from a Mental Health Professional. Thus, being transgender is a mental illness. 

I was labeled mentally ill before I even started Kindergarten. But I have to say--I've always felt like I was the sane one in a world full of crazy, stupid people who weren't seeing things the way I was.

It was very frustrating. And it may have driven me to actually BE crayyy-zayyyy. I understand why it would be beneficial to all trans people moving forward to remove the stigma. For gender identity issues to be nothing more than a technical glitch---

Oops, we designated you female at birth because of some trifling anatomical features we detected on your neo-natal flesh.

It's hard for me to grasp being gender dysphoric without---the DYSPHORIA!!! 

It's also hard for me to take the lead of a younger generation. Because that's what I'm having to do. My generation & the generations before me were not allowed to have gender identity issues. It was more than the medical field or polite society could handle. So we sucked it up & became crazy people.

But now the world is listening, and people way younger than me understand how to communicate things I had to keep silent about. I am humbled by these kids. Why was I not brave enough to speak up?

Well…when I look at my whole life I know I was as non-conforming and outspoken as I could've been at the time. I have the scars to prove I wasn't just an accomplice in society's fairytale…

so…if we have to use sanitized phrases like 'designated female at birth' and 'gender confirmation surgery' to make Transgender more palatable to our fairytale society…

then I will do my best not to scream "Get me the fuck out of this vagina nightmare!!!!!! Aaaaaaghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Okay. Now here's a poem about something truly insane---guns.

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

3rd poem in trilogy about guns: WHICH CAME FIRST,

The 2nd amendment

Or your balls blue from edging

All day in your chamber?

Lady trigger finger done in 

Two minutes flat while you

Enlist the help of concubines

Somehow this fetish gives 

Birth to the great equalizer

Death on a leather harness

God in your pocket

From the humble prototype--

Ornate barrel 

At the spear's  tipping point--

To the lubricated void

Of the A-K

The infinite loop

Of assassinations

William the Silent was the

First to be silenced on the shores of 

His own bloodline

History looped endlessly

To repeat this sound

In Lincoln's, Garfield's, McKinley's, 

Ferdinand's,

Gandhi's,

Kennedy's, X's, King's, Kennedy's,

Milk's, Lennon's,

Sadat's, Gandhi's, Rabin's, Bhutto's

Eternal ear drum machine

To repeat the question

Which came first

The chicken or the bully?

The sperm or the egg?

Which came first

The dick or the pussy?

The happy or the tragic

End?

The answer never comes.

The answer is celibate, ace

Frozen in bed

The answer is suicidal

The song holds the answer like a newborn

Quickly letting go

Of its divinity

A Cobain or Shakur,

A Hemingway, Thompson or 

Joan Burroughs whose angelhoods

Dead-ended in glory 

Whose persons turned to ash

While their legends grew bigger wings

Than middle management angels

Or arch enemies' unbending

Arms

2-9-16

Lost In PuberSpace

Hey Buddies,

Sorry I haven't been the most reliable Octopus Diarist lately. I'll explain why in a moment.

********(a moment passes)*********

I started Testosterone in December and I'm going to tell you all about it.

But one thing I've realized is--I am a horrible disgusting no good writer. I can't convey an honest thought or emotion to save my life. When did this happen? I think it happened when I decided to become a serious writer. When I stopped writing from my intuitive giblet basket & started contriving genetically modified responses to the controlled environment around me.

Also, I think I lost a lot of creative brain matter when I went through that nervous breakdown thing. That thing I've tried to write about, tried to document in words, but failed. Word retrieval is not in my wheelhouse anymore. I cannot adequately describe what happened from mid-2014 to mid-2015--

Was it a nervous breakdown? If it was, it was a really long one. 

Was it Major Depressive Disorder? As severe as that sounds, I think what I went through was more acute and dangerous than that even.

Was it my Chakras suddenly aligning with the new world order? To me, this makes more sense than any medical diagnosis. 

Was it the emotional backlash from solving my mystery? Definitely, but not exclusively.

Was it evolution? Was it peri-menopause? I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS!!!! And I may never find out exactly. And it may happen again. All sanity is temporary after all…

What I do know is: when I realized how serious it was getting I sought help. Not just for the anxiety/depression but for the big "secret" thing that plagued me all my life--

gender dysphoria--

(go ahead & laugh)--

At first I just wanted to meet people who felt like I did--ie, really bad about their gender. 

It was good to know there were other people right in my own area code who knew the struggle.

Between my first transgender meeting in Aug '14 & the second one in Sept was the peak of the nervous breakthing. I got on medication and things improved.

I had no real plans to start hormone therapy. I didn't think Moonchild would be in favor of it. And he wasn't. I didn't think transition would be a real goal for me, but I still wanted to be with people who had their own stories about transitioning.

Once I got on medication, things were mostly okay but I did keep having little relapses. Most notably in Winter & Summer of '15. During the Summer relapse it was Moonchild who asked if I thought testosterone would help the situation.

I said I didn't know but I was willing to try anything. So I inquired of the mental health professionals and they provided the documents I needed to start hormone replacement therapy (HRT).

The only thing was--that was in July and I couldn't get in to the endocrinologist til December. It was a long wait but I had the feeling that this was going to be the answer to my lifelong dilemma.

Aug 2015 Waiting patiently...

So…that beautiful day in December arrived and I was so excited. I was kind of dreading the injection because who likes needles, ya know?

But it was just a little pinprick and was nothing compared to the elation I felt at starting this new adventure.

I noticed changes right away. Mostly that I had more energy & was way more horny. 

I did my next injection on my own with the nurse's supervision. Then I started doing them at home. Definitely getting used to needles. Not just from injections but because you have to have your blood tested often, and if you're lucky like me you'll develop polycythemia and have to donate blood ever so often to get rid of excess red blood cells. Those needles at the blood bank are the killers. Like 12 gauge shotguns shoved into your veins.

Anyway--it's been three months and that's the point where many guys start to see real changes in appearance. And vocal range.

I am seeing some very slight changes. My cheeks, nose & upper lip look bigger. I have some lip fuzz. Definitely a little pitchy in the vocal region. I still sing every day and check my range--I can still hit some pretty high notes but I keep waiting for that to change.

When I was being fueled by Estrogen my main concerns were write/write/write draw/draw/draw sing/sing/sing

On Testosterone my main concerns are skate/skate/skate ????/????/???? sleep/sleep/sleep

[I won't say what ???? is, but I'm sure you can guess…]

My lack of interest in the creative pursuits that sustained me for most of my life is a little worrisome. But I hear it is normal to be consumed by other thoughts--I am literally going through puberty again!

This makes me laugh. I've been in denial about how old I am getting and it finally caught up with me. And what did I do? I went and started adolescence all over. I feel like a kid who has all the knowledge & experience of a grown up. Who doesn't want to feel like that?

There are some scary aspects of transitioning. Not everyone is down with it, and even people who are accepting don't really understand much about it. At this stage of the game most trans people are ambassadors of transness. I feel pressure to be a good representative of what Trans is. That's a tough call-out for an anti-social surrealist like myself.

There is the social policing of the trans experience. Now that Transgender has made its way into mainstream culture there is this big uproar about who's doing it wrong & who's doing it right. What language we can use to talk about it because--hello--if you use the wrong words to describe your own experience you could come across as transphobic or god forbid trigger some yucky sad feelings in the millennial sitting beside you.

But I refuse to use dead phrases like "designated female at birth." That sounds like some kind of technical/clerical error someone made at the hospital the day you were born. It totally discounts the grievous incongruity that follows you around while you live in your "designated" role. The absolute Twilight Zone your life can be when you feel like 'he' and people keep 'she-ing' you. It also removes all blame from God, who is totally to blame. (<

Then there is the bathroom issue. Public restrooms, as you may have noticed, are the battlegrounds on which trans rights revolutions will be fought.

I know that when I tell friends of my transition the first thing they ask after "Are you going to have the surgery?" is----

"Which bathroom do you use?"

And it's funny because---- ----- -----when I presented as female and was so dainty & femme--- I used to use the men's room all the time. It was part of my surrealist charm. 

When I knew I was going to start T, I got nervous using the men's room. Now that everyone knows there are trans people lurking about I'm a little wary of …getting my ass kicked in the bathroom. This is something all trans people worry about, male or female. It is a THING right now, but I hope it stops being a THING and that using a public restroom becomes a less gendered experience in the future.

For now, I try to not have to use the restroom any time I'm out. Since I am not yet passing as male I don't want to attract any unwanted attention. But it's also getting awkward to use the women's room. I'm in that between-phase where it's best to leave your bladder at home (with your American Express card).

And as for that other question "Are you going to have the surgery?" I know that it means "Are you going to have a dick somehow, someday?"

(or if asked of a MTF, are you going to have your dick cut off?)

Basically, it's a dick question disguised as a medical inquiry. I've been trans long enough to know this.

And I know the politically correct answer that I, as a trans ambassador, am supposed to give is--"It's not appropriate to ask about someone's genitals. Would you ask a cis-gender person what's in their underwear?"

But here is my answer (listen closely because I don't want to have to say this ever again):

I do not plan on having "the surgery." There are two surgeries that trans men can get on their lower regions, and the results are much better than they were last decade. As of now I don't plan to have those surgeries. The effects of testosterone on the lower regions are good enough for me. So if you're asking if I have a dick--I'll say "I have two."

Puzzle over that for awhile. But then quit asking me or anyone about their genitals. It really is inappropriate.

Btw, the only surgery I plan to have is top surgery. I'll wait to see how the T redistributes my body mass and for insurance co's to cover it! : )) 

Another strange thing is---I think I have been called "Ma'am" more since I started T than in my whole adult life. It really pisses me off, but it tests my ability to be a patient reasonable ambassador. Seriously though, it's getting to the point where i might get violent.

Feb 2016---3 month on T

Also…pronouns. In a politically correct world, you cis-people are supposed to honor my wish to be called by male pronouns. I do understand how hard this is when I still look like a female pronoun. So you get a grace period from me. I know when I start looking more like 'he' it will be much easier. If you call me 'she' and I have a moustache and talk like Barry White--you're going to look like the weirdo.

All right!! That's my first 3 months on testosterone. I will write more when it's time. I kept trying to put my trans experience down on Tumblr or Twitter but that seems dumb to me now. I'm going to put it in the Octozone. 

Hopefully I'll be back to writing & drawing soon. I'm only writing today because the ice rink is closed. Have patience w/ me.

Adventures in Underachievement

Here's the thing, Friends

So out of focus lately

So much incoming data…so much of my favorite stuff becoming 'just stuff'

It's a processing error moreso than a lack of inspiration, but...

I'm too old for the sharp twinge of inspiration…my brain is crammed with a lifetime of thoughts memories emotions sensory overload

Sensory shock sensory awe sensory exhaustion

Can I pick through the landfill and salvage what I'll need for the rest of my days?

I don't even know if I can manage that sort of sorting…

******Here's The Thing********

I used to clamor for androgyny

"The world should be less concerned with masculine & feminine and just BE," I used to say

And I meant it.

I still want that.

And now it's happening.

What I didn't realize was how painful the transformation would be.

As I've been known to exclaim, "Ouch! Evolution hurts!"

It does. But it will all be worth it when we've aligned our hearts/minds to a life w/out such binary restrictions/privileges.

********

COMING SOON TO THE OCTOPUS DIARY:

The Adventures of SHELTER CAT & TRUST FUND BABY

As if I don't already have enough unpaid, self-indulgent projects going on--here's another one. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Guns Don't Kill People, Overpopulation Does

FRIENDSHIPMATES,

Hi. How are ya. I'm fine.

I know you're wondering why I've taken on yet a new blogger name--Valentine Tremens--and I'll tell you:

It's for purposes of anonymity. As I become a more serious writer, and a more mature* citizen of this nation exercising my 1st amendment rights, and more infused with the paranoia of living in an electronic age, I don't want my personal-ranty-ravey-silly-place to be the first thing that comes up when my name is searched. That's all.

*mature in years not attitude

Here is part II of my gun poem series

**********

ARMS & ARMS WITH LEGS

I knew the story from the song

She didn't like Mondays, she shot the whole day down

Boomtown Rats stole the summer of '79

Kicking disco in the balls til Reagan's 80s

Flashed into existence

Nobody really hated anything enough to shoot it 

Into TVs main artery

Everyone busy (sniff, sniff, swipe) making

Powder into gold

Kids were happy in the 80s!

Chopping up their hair and holding

Out their hands for daddy's trickle down allowance

Guns were in the house but they didn't come

To school

Clinton's 90s--what a happy time!

Every baby a miracle!

Every child a precious helmeted trophy snowflake!

Those cognitive enough to watch

Such stellar lives burst onto the scene

Gagged a little at the goo goo ga ga glory

Resistant to their incipient grunge

Baby on Board, please…

I'll be happy to put your baby on a board

One clean cervical stigma

And a whack at your skullful of hormonal glitter

Come as you are to my art installation

Then I grew up & all the babies on boards

Meant something new--

They'd gone back to their Empyrean starting gates

And I was there to care for their remains

Babies on metal trays

Too small to withstand the force of our machines

We embalmed with carefully aimed

Horse needles

In the news one day a gun went bang in Kentucky

Killing a pile of rascals too old to be babies on boards

Too young to be the centerpiece on

Our porcelain slabs

We sympathized with those in our profession

That Kentucky location

Got a terrible death call in 1997

Then it happened in Arkansas,

1998, and we sympathized

And then Columbine 1999

Columbine forever until 9/11

Then we forgot

Kentucky made room for Virginia, meanwhile

Amendment 2 was being stretched like canvas

To cover the long hypotenuse

Spanning the right-to-bear angle

Criminal backgrounds searched but not seized

Mental illness wouldn't fit inside the bill

No school system trained in clairvoyance

Though it was suggested as the only real solution

You cannot pull my arms from their inalienable sockets

You can however learn not to be shocked

When you're about to get shot

Draw your arm, thinking on the right side of your feet

Meanwhile,

Chicago erupted in deadly locks & pops

New venues plowed for random violence:

Malls 2008

Military base '09

TV studio '10

Political rally '11

The theater in '12

Then the supreme Hook

Embedded in the leviathan's jaw

The Hook that punctured our raw bare feet

Because we never saw it w/ our psychic scholastic elementary

Vision

A vengeance so unthawed

The frozen finger that fell on the trigger

And stuck there like a Connecticut tongue 

In winter's vomitorium

We never saw that day until it came

We pulled the sheets over their heads & ours

Bodies who had the right but no desire

To bear the third arm all good guys must grow

Right out of their sandy hearts

I am good w/ my gun and I shoot your bad arm

With my impeccable aim

And reputation

Where do I get my badge of honor

The certificate that states

Good Guy #808 saved the day?

St. Elliot the Master Manifesto Bro amended

His arsenal in '14

With cutlery and automatic transmission

But it was still his right to own the fire in his mind

And Charleston's burning hot '15 summer

Blue eyed visitor bridging gaps

With Bible verse hypotenuse and

Bang! and Pow! and rat-tat-tat-tat…

So, what about those good guys 

Protecting on duty and serving on camera?

Projecting & perverting

A bias cut through black fabric that bleeds

But doesn't fit the

Hypo-criteria

For tragedy's patterned genre?

1-27-16

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Thank you for reading this long piece. You won't regret it when I'm a famous poet. Err…whatever.

p.s. I just heard there is a moratorium on childbirth in Central American due to this new virus that causes babies to be born with tinier-than-normal heads.

I've always though a childbirth moratorium would be a wonderful way (possibly the ONLY humane way) to get the population of the planet down to a reasonable number of people. 

Because guns don't kill people, overpopulation does.