06/09/25 - Archival Post 1 - I Am Everyday People

06/09/25

Today is June 9th, 2025. It is my first day of work at this new job. I am completing a cybersecurity online seminar as part of the many modules needed to complete the on-boarding.

I have not eaten any food today. I feel sickly and weak. I've felt worried and ashamed throughout the start of this day, and I am afraid this will carry into the rest of my day.

I don't know why I'm telling you this.

I'm on my break and I'm looking at the sky. It's always so beautiful outside when I feel like ass. It's a good joke.

The more I get acquainted with the gig, the easier it feels. I think I'll be okay. I understand it now. It's not too bad.

I just wish I could go higher. Maybe I'm never gonna rise above this. I'd like to think I'll be wrong about that one day. I think my vision is getting blurrier, I can't see as well as I used to. I don't know what the future is gonna look like anymore.

I feel so disgusting today. I'm glad I finished the album. I glad I made something that feels real. I'm hoping it will be the final nail in the coffin. I don't want to think about them anymore.

They have very important lives, they're involved in very important things. I'm very proud of all of my friends right now. They are all simply the brightest lights in our world. I make it my business to understand these people, so I can learn to be proud of myself one day.

Everything is money. It's everything. 

It's all that's on my mind these days. I've failed my childhood self. I just know it. In so many ways... I'm letting myself down. I should be out on the front lines, fighting. Speaking, protesting. That's what I used to be before I got caught in this shitstorm. I've lost it all.

I can't get out of this situation with my integrity intact. Something has gotta give. Something. I will have some sort of psychological break or panic attack before the month is through. I just know it. Oh God, I wish I didn't feel that way. I really want to just be a drama queen. I don't want this to be true. I first felt like I was gonna get close to that when we were in New Center. That area, it's too perfect! It's in this visual pocket, this kitsch that itches my brain in the wrong way.

When I'm there, I feel like I'm in the age of all of my heroes. I feel like I could fly when I'm down there. And it's completely empty! There's nobody there! It's soulless!

I can feel my head starting to waive back and forth. The migraine is worse, it's so beautiful. I feel just like I did then. I'm such a weak link. Why didn't they steal from me? Why don't they call the police on me and put me away? Kill me, please. Don't let me say another word. Cut my head open and slice your intoxicating memory away. Tell them to hate me, too. You are both so talented, so smart, so beautiful. Don't talk to sicko freaks anymore. Don't waste your time with creepy black trannies.

I'm so deliriously miserable, I could laugh about it. I feel so light. I'm remembering why I used to starve myself when I was alone in the dorms. This was that feeling. That psychosis is back. I hope he ignores my texts. I hope he never...

I'm looking at the painting on the wall. This is so ornate. I love this.

I love writing, man. I can get it all out and nobody gets hurt. I can warn people. They can stay away. They can learn what they should, that they should kill me. They'll finally kill me.

They're too nice to do that. They're too kind, they're too giving. They would never do that. They're such good people...

I look at pictures that right wingers make of trans people on the internet, yknow? The hairy guys in dresses? I see that every day now. I don't know why. I was doing so much better when the year started.

I see a freak in the mirror. I don't know why my family is proud of me. I'm a joke.

Anti-psychotic medication is in my future. I will be medicated soon. I promise, guys. I promise I'm gonna get better soon.

I'm such a freak. This job... it's easy. I can do it. I can make it happen. I just don't know when I'm gonna break. I already know what it's gonna be. I just have to stave it off.

I overdressed for work today. Hilarious. What did I think I'd be doing?

"What a jackass."

"What a weirdo."

It's not an excuse. I should have never asked. I should have never seen them. God, what was I thinking? I should have said no. I shouldn't have even thought about it. Why did I do that? Why did I let myself do that? Why did they trust me? Why were they so nice? I don't get it. They should have never welcomed me like that. They should have spread rumors about me and told people I'm crazy and they should have gotten me put in a cell for the rest of my life. Even if I didn't do anything. He should send me a threat. He should threaten me in a manner I can't ignore. He should demand I never talk to him again. He should hate me. He shouldn't just forget... he should hate me. I hope he hates me. He deserves to hate me. I wasn't cool about it, I wasn't normal, that was my fault.

It's all my fault.

I'm gonna wait to keep writing later today.

------------

Rest in peace Sly Stone

8/2/25 - If You Ask Nicely I Will Send You My Social Security Number

So I'm discovering that Big Pink has become a sort of church for me.

That's fine I guess. I like dancing. I really like dancing. How could you not like dancing? I love dancing. I also love accidently elbowing short people in the face and saying sorry 45 times in one night.

Its a shame that my twin prefers Spotlite because Spotlite makes me... nervous. The people who go there are really good people, they all have salaries and mortgage their houses. These are Dennis Archer's people.

I'm being really mean, I'll stop. Spotlite is good. If I had to go to a club with friends that dont go to clubs, I'd go to Spotlite.

Bleu is NOT good. Its a fake club. Its a front for a Mossad sleeper cell. Im calling it. I do not want a SECTION! I WANT ROOM TO DANCE! I would take a friend to Bleu if we weren't really friends and I kind of wanted to watch them attempt to dance within the centimeter of space they'll have available in a really vindictive, machiavellian way. Or maybe in a psychosexual Blue Velvet sort of way.

Sometimes I think I seem like Frank to my friends, and then my own hand stretches out in front of me and smacks me in the face.

Recently I watched The Young Girls of Rochefort dir. Jacques Demy. Of course the first New Wave movie I watch in 50 billion years is the fruity singalong romance one. 10/10, I loved getting jumpscared by Gene Kelly. The song the twins sing near the beginning is still in my head even though I don't really understand any of the words. I wish French People were real. It's a real shame, you know... French people stopped existing after the exchange students from WAYN escaped the cesspool called "America" to return to the bed-bug cuddling, cigarette nursing promised land in the sky.

That makes it sound like they died. They didn't die, they just moved back to public arts funding and loose consonants.

I am not Superman, unfortunately. I am just Gabriel.

I had such a fun little conversation with Remas last week, my heart is so full of hope and love. Which is a shame, because I took a pretty nasty financial hit. I had to pay the wifi bill for my family, you know. They hit the Pentagon. Now I gotta wait another week before I can call the leasing people.

My coworkers are so fun! Its been a while since I've actually enjoyed my job. Not once have I thought about calling in a bomb threat.

This post is not as well written as my sad ones, but I have decided that I don't care. Writing is not part of my skillset anymore, I am no longer concerning myself with keeping up the appearance of being a writer. I'm not a writer! I don't have to be one. This is good.

I almost want to start working on my next project since I've already got down all the concepts, sounds, methods, visual design language, ideas, etc. I need to put them together in a production bible.

The thing about Hepburn is that it needs to be influenced by the right kind of filth. I'm trying to see about some burlesque, some strip clubs. I gotta see about finding some erotica. I also gotta see about putting myself on the street, but where? Detroit isn't a gigolo city. But I'm trans though, right? I think there's a different term for it. I'm thinking about putting myself in danger a bit. It's a really milquetoast, unserious thing to want or look for. Not something that somebody with a life of safety and promise should ever look forward to.

So I think maybe Hepburn isn't for me? I dunno. It's an idea I want to see come alive. Maybe...

I'll have to start shaving my legs 🫩🫩 I don't wanna do that. But I will. Because I need to give myself the acid bath of sexual validation. Arms are one thing but... 

Oh well. I guess it's easier to be candid if you don't fear the watchmen. I'm thinking about that clip of Jason Alexander in Seinfeld, where he says something like... 

"I cannot envision a situation where I will ever have sex again. 

How's it gonna happen?"

Like God that's such a defeatist mindset, but also, like.

Yeah. I'm rooting for my hormones, y'know? At 3 years in, I might even be tolerable. But right now, we're only a year and a half in this shit. We just gotta do it all again.

6/3/25 - Archival Post 0 - Bergman

At this time of night, the ceiling is grey. I see light emanating from my phone onto the duvet covering me, and to my eyes, it is grey.

It's at times like these I appreciate a lack of color. I dream of a grim isolation. It's ironic that I feel a fondness for that now. I used to have privacy, and I used to have calm. I don't believe I am entitled to their graces anymore.

I miss choices, I miss confidence. I miss taking my time with things. I miss patience. I miss the malaise of Sunday. I miss forgiveness.

I miss when things were grey. I miss when I could let my heart slow down. I miss calm. I have so dearly missed being able to love myself.

I tried to read Critique of Pure Reason. It makes me sad. I'm not allowed any synthesis. I am commanded, controlled by commitment. I have no self. I read that book and I see everything I am not. It's so pathetic. It's not even supposed to be that kind of book.

I don't feel comfortable with my body. I don't want to have urges or needs. I do not want to be treated as a pet, as a servant, as an accessory. Maybe that's all a person is. Maybe I'm not a person after all. I'm a machine. I am used, I am placed. I cannot live like this, and yet... what else is there? I'm not lucky. I do not engender respect.

I don't have privacy anymore. I don't have time.

I am taking steps to loosen up. I am hoping that I will learn to love having a birthday again. I don't like having a birthday. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to be reminded of it. I feel that as I grow older... I hope to one day forget about it. I hope that one day, it will pass. It will feel like any other day. And I won't even notice.

I want silence. I want calm. I want to see nothing but grey. I want to be alone.

I'll write more later

6/11/25 - Archival Post 2 - Till I Die

I could never play team sports. I get yelled at once and I feel like ripping open a suicide vest.

Whatever.

I'm still not feeling happy with my life right now, so I'm not going to write a lot of stuff today. I don't think it's very pleasant to read that sort of venting.

My feet hurt from work, and walking with nowhere to sit. I couldn't get into the gf's apartment for hours after I got off work and every building was closed. This is what I get for relying on others. I asked my parents for $20, so I could afford Gas tommorow. I felt so ashamed. They gave me 40. I've only very recently started asking my parents for anything. I spent several months refusing to ask for help. I would have one meal a day for a long time because of my living situation.

I don't want to live here anymore. I am tired of being here. I don't want to make myself beholden to somebody else's schedule and time. I am tired of empathy. I don't want to have everybody else's back anymore. Who's going to look out for me, for once?

That is all for today.

Rest in Peace Brian Wilson

7/12/25 - Archival Post 4 - Nico

Every day that I'm outside, in the summer heat, it pops into my head. I remember how Nico died. Just riding her bike. I think about how painful that must have been. The incredible sensation of it. I think of how quickly it must have stolen the joy from everyone that loved her.

I've been thinking about the social, communal impact of dying, a lot. That's not very special. It's the same old shit. I'm honestly tired of being sad and mopey. It's so boring, isn't it? Depression is really a trite sort of affliction, it's exhausting to hear about. Stop being such a toddler and eat your vegetables, you know?

It's like in American Werewolf in London, where Jack is telling David, "You ever talked to a corpse? It's boring! I'm lonely!"

I can't believe John Landis was ever allowed to breathe air. I think he should have been turned into dog treats for that Twilight Zone thing, with the children and the helicopter blades.

I still try to talk to Remas. She's opened up just the tiniest bit. It's great to hear from her.

I'm talking to my ex on WhatsApp a lot. Only been separated for just around a week and a half. I want to maintain healthy friendship, but I dunno. I've never done this before. I feel like maybe I'm too lenient with the language I've used. I hope I'm doing this right. I hope things can remain positive. I believe in them, I hope that they believe in me.

It was my belief that staying employed would ground my perspective and sober my thoughts. Finding peers in my coworkers could help tether me to reality.

That was what I thought would be the case. I must say that unfortunately, my mental homeostasis has gotten used to this job. And so, the oxygen comes back in, I start to coagulate again. I'm not as fluid, or as flexible, as I'd like to be.

I've regressed a great deal. Just hearing myself think has disappointed me.

Let me tell you what I've been thinking about. It's just another ideation I'll never lack the control to subdue. I've been thinking about blocking everybody in my contacts, and my social media, and throwing my phone in the river after crossing the border. I could drive forever until my gas runs out. After it's empty, I can walk to a nice little nowhere. And I don't really know what I'd do after that.

You know what I think? Stop being such a toddler and eat your vegetables.

I want... too many things. I don't want material possessions. I resent myself for that. I want something ungiveable. Something I don't believe I have earned. I've accepted that I need to learn to tolerate what I see in the mirror.

My family loves me. They poke holes in everything that I do, and everything that I am. They don't take me seriously as a person, and I've decided there's nothing I can do to change their minds. Who cares anymore. It's enough that they love me, I don't have the ability to change people.

Stop being such a toddler and eat your vegetables.

I'm saving up for a place of my own. I'm thinking... this might be it for me. This is the highest I can go. I'm not meant for anything greater than this. I don't think I believe in myself anymore.

I want to apologize to all my friends and family, for putting you guys through it. Y'all didn't deserve any of that, you guys are just trying to live your lives and stay above water, I understand that. I'm gonna stop talking to people, I'm gonna try to focus on myself.

I understand it's been a large gap since the last time I wrote on this blog. I had a moratorium put on posting, yknow, and I think maybe I should have just stuck to that. I'm a liability to my loved ones right now, and my goal is to put myself in a spot where that's not the case anymore.

I still feel the same. I thought that changing my life would fix something, but it didn't. Nothing is different, you know?

 

7/15/25 - Archival Post 5 - Savvy

I missed his call. He never said whether he would call me again today, or if he'd be available. I don't like this.

I tried linking up with the boys on the weekend, but they're still in the thick of it. Working stiffs, all of us. And y'know, because we're all working class kids, none of us get to lie down. I really wanna lie down. I have dreams about everyone. I feel like I'm never gonna forget.

I was watching Fire Walk With Me on my phone while all the kids were in the computer lab. There were some small issues today with one of em, but that's confidential. As long as we dont have to send 'em home, it's a good day.

I keep thinking about how Donna was talking to Laura about her thing with James. How revealing she was of her true feelings, even if she didn't know she felt that way yet. And Sheryl Lee is such a great actress, that bizarre emotion of knowing isn't overplayed on her face. She only says enough to acknowledge Donna's yearning. With that kind of tone that clarifies, she knows this. Of course I know my man is all that. Stop talking about it.

Yes, James is very sweet.

But Laura sees through a lot of malaise. She has to. There's a sharpness to her personality that I feel like I've seen before, in others. But Laura doesn't know what to be around Donna. She's always so afraid of losing her. She doesn't know how to be what she deserves, so she pushes her away.

Sometimes I think maybe I come off like Donna in that scene.

And I think that maybe I should stop talking. I've been trying to speak less. I haven't done a good job of doing that, but I'm still trying.

I'm worried about the future, but not necessarily my future. I'm worried about Remas, and Manal, and their kids. I'm worried about my friends. I'm worried about Auntie, and my parents. I'm worried about these people under siege, all over the world. The more I learn, the more I worry.

He told me not to think like that. He's so much wiser than me. His is a story of perseverance, of sacrifice. In a manner I could never understand. I almost don't feel worthy of his attention.

Why would he ask to call me? I didn't think he still liked me. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he wants to bring me back to Earth, land one across the jaw. Maybe I deserve that. I'm worried about her, too. She's a brave sort, it seems. Smarter than I could ever hope to be, its those eyes. You see it in their eyes, its like a visitation every time you make contact with them. I can't think of a better fit for the both of them. Seeing them together, its like looking at a dream.

I feel like one of my friends finally figured it out. What they have, that couple, seems wonderful. I'm so proud of him. I don't know how meaningful that might be coming from me, but I really am. I'm proud of everyone. Everyone. To me, my friends are my heroes. They are who I look up to, who I aspire to be. They are what I see as the truth.

When I think about them, and what they have already become since I've known them... I feel less afraid.