11/13/25 - Life In Pictures
Oh, I think you're standing on my left foot.
It's hurting, but that's okay...
'Cause I'm in your way.
You'll break that foot that you're standing on...
I'll walk with the other one...
My bone is still poking out under my toe, by the way. Ain't that a fuckin' laugh.
Perfect. It was perfect, it was the perfect state of mind. There was no performance. Everything was as genuine as I could have hoped. I forgot myself in all the right ways. It's everything it needs to be. If only everything was so peaceful, if only everything could satisfy.
In me, there is a sadness that is so weak. It's so miniscule compared to this triumph. I'm on top of the world. This is my kingdom, now. A tyranny of temperance and moderation, let our future be austere. Let's relish the promise of nothing.
Nothing! And that's everything it should ever be.
I know I'm being confusing; I'm being vague. This isn't a new thing for our blog; we're going to torture ourselves with discretion. No truths, no revelations. No names. No epithets.
It's only me now.
I'm looking at the view outside my mind right now. I'm trying to not to think about it.
I have goals to look forward to. On Saturday we're having an appointment with the leasing office about an apartment. On Sunday I'm seeing an old friend before they go away for a few years. I'm writing more music; the second batch of tracks begins production this week. Job is stable, I'll be moving out, my work continues to shift and develop.
But it won't quit. It's not going to let up, is it?
I really keep believing that I don't have other stuff to talk about. We know what's really going on. The coagulation is quickening. The blood is still spilling, y'know. In Africa, the forces have ramped up their slaughter. The Eritrean and Ethiopian forces continue to hammer on the people of Tigray. Mass rapes and murder are commonplace. Everybody's talking about those pictures of Sudan. You can see the blood and the bodies from space. The altar is starting to rise, into the anerobic void.
In our age we understand the importance of social contract, collective efforts and historical memory. There is no such thing as law and order. It's play-belief. I use that term a lot, don't I?
We can't stop talking about it, as much as I'd like to. I tell you that it brings me no pleasure to trade in insight. I don't enjoy the drive towards knowing, towards the burden of human responsibility. A responsibility to the planet, a responsibility towards humanity, a responsibility towards myself. The ring is so heavy, Sam. I've started to welcome the everyday stressors, it's cowardly. I almost enjoy the working-class toil if it gets me a break from carrying the ring to the mountain.
I saw an exhibit about the blood recently, a friend's exhibit. Exquisite work, it's very honest. It's a different level entirely. That's how you manage the weight of the ring, right there. She immortalized the present, she created history. I dedicate this coffee to you, Samwise Gamgee. In the future, people will need to understand the contrasts of our age. The pedophile oligarchs are kidnapping families and taking them to concentration camps, and they're funding genocides to expand the reach of the empire. Their throne coagulates with the help of AI Data centers poisoning the Black community. And, kids, do you want to know who il Duce loves to keep around in his imperial court? Would you like to know the identity of one of his minor viziers, in the freshwater fiefdom of Michigan, the land of many lakes?
It's the fucking My Pillow guy. Mike Lindell, the dude who was trying to sell those pillows to old people on those commercials they used to have on Cartoon Network and (fuck me sideways) The Hub. Because that's what America is all about.
She could spit in the eyes of fools...
As they ask her to focus on sailors fighting in the dance hall...
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go! It's the freakiest show!
Take a look at the lawman beating up the wrong guy...
Oh man!
Wonder if he'll ever know? He's in the best-selling show!
I carry with me the splendor of conversations all too brief. I saw her two days ago, that was a good day. Any day I've the privilege to see a friend like her is a good day in my heart.
Hmm. I guess it's a terrible sort of thing to admit, y'know. I'm never not thinking about Titania. It's a little gauche for me to reference the name of Shakespeare's fairy queen of A Midsommer Night's Dream... but I've worn many masks in my recent exploits during the Halloween season. I cannot deny a comparative role, with a mind so poisoned by literature and film. If Nick Bottom ever really was a transgender woman, the tickets would fly off the shelves. I've been wearing the head of an ass for almost a year, at this point. Part of me wonders who casted the spell. Maybe... I'd be the first to cast God herself in the role of "Puck."
Let me speak of less embarrassing things. A day before seeing the exhibit, I texted Remas, and let me tell you something...
We are both awful at geography. It's too silly for my own good. Any time I get a laugh out of her, I've done a good job. I can make the prisoners laugh, Johnny. It's a whole new form of "gallows humor." I'm not too sure about this meta-modern world we live in. How have we developed the humor to lead our fellow men and women through the railroad at a snail's pace? I am not a freedom fighter, and I am certainly not a hero. My friends are so kind when they try to tell me how "great" it is that I do this for these families, and I mean, maybe they're right in some ways, but I honestly have a hard time wrapping my head around what I've gotten myself into.
I'm holding their hands through the water on the internet... this stuff puts me in the mind of something I've never been. I'm trying to save a family through my data plan, and that deep sea internet cable has now saved as many lives as it's taken. I'm trying to be a friend to the neediest in our world through (groan) WhatsApp, through (yuck) Instagram, through (gulp) PayPal, and through (gross) GoFundMe. What a fable, my life has become. I do love these people, and I want to see them thrive and get out of this genocide. And along the way, I've conversated to Remas about the specific type of chili consistency they use on the Coney Dogs at Lafayette Coney Island.
"When nothing changes, we get bored."
That's what Remas told me a few weeks ago. What the people of Palestine want from you on the internet is not just money, which is reasonable enough. They want to be friends. They want somebody to talk to, to get to know you. They want to socialize, to remember what it's like to have peers and comrades in their day-to-day life. They like to have people who they can check in on and have small talk with. They want to have a laugh, to learn new things. They want people to confide in, so they can know that somebody on the other side of the ocean cares about them. They do not want to be forgotten.
This is the role I've almost unwittingly taken in my life. My job right now is to be a friend to just some of these people. What I'm hoping to do is make their day a little brighter, to be there when they need help, whether with their donations or with their spirits.
Every now and again I talk about my job, how I was working for the children the last 6 months. Making people smile is what I value more than anything else in this world. I've started to learn this about myself. I love to entertain, I love to see those smiles. When I can put on a silly costume and make the kids laugh, I think that gives me life. It literally adds years to my lifespan. And when I can text a friend in Gaza something that makes their day brighter... I feel like a million bucks. If can throw a good joke to a friend in conversation that garners a genuine laugh, I feel like I could lift a building.
When I got the transfer to Manal, I felt like I had finally achieved something I was truly proud of in life. More than graduating, more than landing any job, even more than my music. In my heart I think... when I'm an old lady, somebody might try to ask me if I figured it out. I'm never going to have all the answers. I'm not a super genius, I'm not Jesus, y'know. I don't have any advanced insight or wisdom into the metaphysical lattice of the world. What I can tell them is, I always looked to make people happy, and that seemed to help. I hope that's the least I can say, when I get old.
Y'know what I'm thinking? One of my friends, the Archimedean, as I'll call them. Archimedes would hate this. Archimedes would probably read this and think, "you conceited saccharine slut."
And you know, Archimedes is probably right, the poor bastard. Too brilliant. Brilliant enough to savor the taste of Newports. That's a full-flavored menthol majesty. I'm thinking that if Archimedes reads this, I can rage bait them with compliments. If I bother them well enough, they might drive down from Ann Arbor to give me a good thrashing, and at least then I can see how long their hair has gotten.
Let me tell of this mind warping kinship I've somehow managed to foster with these families. Zahr asks me how I'm doing, and every time it's the same answer: I'm at work.
"You work so much!" Tell me about it. She's become one of my viziers.
She tells me, "Why aren't you eating?" This is the best disaster. With so many of these people in the Strip, they text me too much. And by the grace of God, I am cursed with the burden of a saint. They know me, now.
They know when I wake up, they know when I'm at work. They can tell when my mood has changed based on my textual prose. Do you know that even the most religious people in the Gaza Strip are more tolerant of Transgender people than a municipal Recreation Supervisor? And yet little miss Eastside seems to get it just fine. "Inclusive workplace" my ass.
You must understand, guys. Most of the ladies who post these videos asking for donations, and for support... They're all mothers. If you're too nice to them, God willing, they start to talk exactly like those old ladies at work who notice when I'm getting thinner.
Let me tell you what she said when I was offline for like, two days.
"What's going on with your account? Tell me you're okay."
I try to be brief and professional about it, just say I'm having a rough time and I'm working through it.
You know what this angel says to me? To my sadness.
"Consider me a friend or sister and tell me. What is with you?"
Oh yeah. She definitely sounds like my sister, I'll tell you that much. Like damn, alright girl. Let me not disrespect you like that.
I love these people, man. They are so concerned and tenderhearted. Maybe it's the result of a lethal wisdom, a revelation in character gained by living through the worst of times. Far be it from me to indulge orientalist, parasocial play-belief.
Maybe they're just good people.
I'm trying really hard to be good people. I guess I should talk about it, huh? Did you really think I wouldn't mention it again? Of course I would. We're going to have to use a better epithet for some of our characters here. These characters are real people, after all.
I'm thinking we'll organize our epithets. And don't seem so surprised, I couldn't be all that wonderful, right? I'm still only a real person. Maybe dipping into the insanium will help deter some of these goddess-titans I continue to pontificate about. Wouldn't that be welcome, some peace and quiet in this brain of mine. Oh, I couldn't stomach that.
Here's a playbill for you. Some new shorthand for the sake of being messy. I'll never pretend to be anything otherwise.
- Transgender Kropotkin - Archimedes (I know he's gonna hate this one)
- Beautiful Gorgeous - Persephone (Oh, I'll be vain about it)
- Titania - Titania (It's a good one already, no changes)
- Oberon/The Incubus - Griffith (yeah, it's that bad)
- French Guy - Cronkite (maybe he'll like that one)
- Battle Creek Jesus - Obi-Wan (lmao)
- Birria Girl/Taco Girl - Deanna Troi (I know at least one one of you guys should still be a Trekkie)
- ???? (I don't remember what I called him b4) - St. Paul
- My twin sister - Rhydian (hahahahahaha)
- (I also forgot what I used to call this friend, too) - Sir Robert
And if I could end this entry with something saccharine...
I was speaking to one of the grand viziers, Deanna Troi. She's always so cutthroat in her wisdom, you know what she said to me? If I could be so terrible.
"You should just tell her."
She makes it seem so easy. I've so much to lose, here... maybe I should get it over with after all.
Oh, I think you're spinning inside my head...
I think of you all the day,
'Cause you're in my way.
Oh, I think you're holding this heart of mine... (my heart is yours)
Squeeze it apart, that's fine...
That's enough sappy documented pining for one day. I'll see you soon. And yes, Deanna. I'll talk to her. Soon. Eventually. I think. Maybe.
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