5/2/25 - Skin

I started feeling a bit insecure about my appearance today. Something that I guess is par for the course for a lot of people of my demographic. Whether that means transgenders, women, gays, could be any of those.

I have to tell you, man... I thought I was doing better. I really did. Today really pulled me back to same feeling.

Yesterday was MayDay in Detroit. That, was a very good day, despite what it did to my legs. No two ways about it, 3 miles will hurt my feet regardless, and pushing a wheelchair makes everything hurt. It was a good day, though. I feel good when I feel like I'm participating in something that matters. I think thats a psychological holdover of my upbringing, I come from a Christian family, a protestant family. Maybe it's a bit of a weakness, I dunno. But I felt good commemorating something like May Day. I felt better seeing all the keffiyehs and Palestine flags.

Today isn't as good. I saw a good movie today, but it was illuminating in ways that kind of soured my peace. It's made me question my feelings. It was a good film, for that reason.

But it wasn't just the movie, is the thing. I don't like being perceived sexually right now. It just doesn't feel right.

And cause of all of this, I feel ugly again. My thoughts are uncharacteristic. I've been seeing myself in the mirror and seeing something hideous, but it's just not me. I don't know what I'm looking at today.

There are decisions I have to make right now that I'm avoiding making, cause I have too many people that depend on me to not make a peep. I have a headache and I'm sitting in bed. My head hurt the same way on the best day of my life. Maybe that means something. A genteel voice says to me, that I shouldn't think I've disappointed my parents, that the people in my life are proud of me. But that voice is not my own. The voice that tells me that these people, who I really wanna stick around, are getting tired of all my nothingness, is my own voice.

I started writing down what I was feeling cause I mixed up two entirely different suggestions from a friend and ended imitating LiveJournal. I wanna thank 'em for the idea, it's worked wonders. The ideas are flowing again, music wise. It's like a faucet now, I can't turn it off. Y'know sometimes I think I annoy people with this music shit, maybe that's true. But I dunno, I get obsessed a lot.

That damn movie. I saw that Bob Dylan movie today, and yknow what? It reminded me of them. How could it not?

Still not over it! See you next week.

4/29/25 - 4/30/25 Oil Change

There's a part of me that thinks I was right, about the impression I made. I think I intimidated her a little bit, I think I made myself unwelcome. I don't know what specifically might have done it, or if it was just something on the whole that was jarring about me. But I could feel it was the last time I was gonna see them when I saw them.

I think that I bore him. I think that I'm not what he needed to see that day, that I was just in the way. I can't imagine... I can't imagine if he knew.

I think it might have been my eye contact. I'm not good at that. I think I unsettle people, and I think that might be part of why.

Maybe its because I'm a tranny.

I don't know. What I do know, is that there's a sickness going on. It's a pathological nightmare, a poison that's seeping from my mind into every crevice of my being right now. It is a demon, that has possessed my thoughts with an impurity. It felt very sweet at first, like a little passing crush, brought upon by proximity. I thought maybe that was it.

But it persists. The more I try not to think about it, it grows and grows. It is overflowing to the extent that I can't contain the thougt of it anymore. I am beside myself.

I am obsessed with them. I can't stop thinking about them. I don't know what's wrong with me, or how to stop this madness. It seems really unserious or silly to write down, which might help a tad. But it's like... a weight, now. 

I think about his arms, and his tattoo. I think about her hair, and her voice. I think about his work, his mind, her work, her mind. I'm possessed by a perversion.

I discussed it with another, and they felt the same... it's not just me. But maybe it is?

I don't just listen, is the problem. I want to see them every day, I want to be part of their work. Of their world, it's so much greener on their side.

I know I gave the wrong impression when last we met. The saw my face, I was frustrated, and tired. They couldn't know, what was really going on behind that face.

I can never talk to them again. I have to ignore them, if they ever reach out. They are friends, they mean no harm. Their intentions are kind, they are... civilized.

This never leaves this room, you understand?

I got my oil changed yesterday. All I could think about was, "finally, I can make the trip up there again."

I almost wanted to stab myself in the throat for thinking that. What... is wrong?

I wish that it was raining then. I could have sat in the car for a moment, and let the noise of the rain drown me out. I thought I was alone, but I've discovered that this illness is very friendly. It's infectious, how wonderful.

I'll end it here. I hope I never see them again, for their own sakes. I wish them the best.

4/28/25 - Teeth Cleaning

That song Lemonade by Gucci Mane is so good. I wish I could live in that beat. I can't imagine feeling like Wop feels, man. That song just gives us a taste of it.

I got my teeth cleaned today. I understand why people are afraid of the dentist, but I've never been able to relate to it. I've grown a little accustomed to the discomfort, maybe its a pathological thing. I find, as my gums are being poked and prodded, bleeding and everything, it's easy to sit through if I focus on the pain. I anticipate it, I guess. Not really a challenge if I teach myself to like it. When life gets too difficult, I teach myself to enjoy the more distasteful and bitter stuff, so that I walk through it easier. I can taste the iron flavor on my teeth right now, my mouth is so dry. Sometimes I think, I should be more comfortable with feeling gross. I used to be good at that, but I realized it's kind of a cop-out. Choosing to embrace a feeling of shittiness to mask how insecure I feel about not being able to keep up with the best. It appears in everything I am these days.

Right now, as I write, I'm hearing Won't Do by J Dilla. Nobody made being an asshole feel so slick before. His work with Slum Village cemented that, they're just horndog socialite townies on the tracks. I kinda love it. Shame that he went so young.

I feel better when I can fixate on special interests, of course I do. I've become really predictable, I have a shtick. I feel like by the second time anybody sees me, they've had enough. I can see it on their faces, it's useful to know.

I've been really enamored with the 70s, how sickly and loose it's been reified to be. Maybe that's me that thinks that way, though. I don't know. I like the idea that, in the US at least, the 70s was a decade of failure and stagnation. It's comforting to think that we've been here before, in a certain sense. There was a failure to build upon the work of the Civil Rights Movement, a regression into conversative dogmatism with the Nixon administration. Democrats loyalty to expanding the war in Vietnam at the chagrin of the youth was their death knell for years. The gas crisis permanently set back the economic highrolling stimulated by the US Auto Industry. People are getting out, they're protesting, some are even participating in high profile murders, but it's not doing anything. All of these things, it feels familiar.

Now, at this point of writing, I'm listening to Oxygen by Swans again. SKIIIIN TIIIIGHT! OHHHH NOOOOOOOO!!!!

I love this song man. I like the other Swans I've heard, but this is still the best to me. It's a real car crash, it's been a minute since I could make noise like that. I'd give anything to hear it live.

It turned to Flashlight by Parliament. I love hearing this on the Lodge, it kinda makes get a little lazy. Like I worry I'm gonna get in an accident with the way this song backslides. This is one of those songs I like to dance to. I've been hearing this song since I was a zygote, since I was little in the backseat of my Mom's car. It reminds me of turning onto Outer Drive. It reminds me of the building with the donkey statue.

All these songs are songs by dudes though, is the thing. When I get in certain moods, I think of myself less as myself, and more like the maladaptive daydreams I write about every now and again. Flash Light is so loose, it's just below the midriff. It's real "Angelica." Oxygen is really congested, really angry. It's a shock that hits the floor and runs up your wrist. It's really "Ricky." 

Won't Do is rolling down the windows a little, it's really late. It's friends, it's money for slots and asking your buddy about how Heroin feels. It's like voyeurism. It's real "Buddy."

This is just how it works in my head. Right now I'm hearing Fame, that's really "Angie," but it it's got a hint of "Buddy," in there. Buddy is who I wish I knew sometimes. In the manuscript, I've made her a little antagonistic, which I think is fitting cause I make her hang out with that little shrimp Red.

Red is the best of em, he's really honest, really boring. He's kind of who I hate to be. If I could describe him, he's I Saw the Light by Todd Rundgren. I'm listening to that one right now, I love this song. I really wish I could still sing. Every time I sing these days I just get sad, it makes me feel bad when I have too much fun with it.

"In my eeeeeeeeyes, in my eeeeeeeeeeeeyes,  in my eeeeeeeeeeeeyes, in my eeeeeeeeeeeeyes..."

I had fun writing this entry, I'll try to keep up with this.