Mixed thoughts
The funeral was... The wake was... Hell, I'm not sure I fully believe the dude's gone. Blah.
I eulogized him on facebook, and I meant what I said. He truly was inspirational.
I took the full day off, for his funeral and wake. And I'm glad. But I just feel so...
I feel angrier than I did. I feel sadder. I feel a lot more than usual.
I feel bad because I can recognise when friends are down, but am completely ill-equipped to help.
I realised that trans guys here have a brotherhood, and NBs have something similar. And I don't think the girls do - if there are bonds, it's through other means. I wish I knew how to fix that.
Coming home I realised this is the first funeral I've been to where it wasn't blood.
I feel the need for loud noise and creation in the same breath. Which is weird, because I normally consider my acts of creation as silent.
I want an unsexy burlesque. I don't even know if he'd be into that. I like to think he would.
I realised why I want unsexy. I don't know if burlesque is compatible, but I want it to work. It could be a play, or a song, or a poem, but I think none of them are what I want. I don't know what I want but it's not that.
I realised why I want unsexy. I hide in unsexy. It's an easy option, and it's self-destructive. Unsexy means nobody sensible is interested. Unsexy is safe. But unsexy doesn't stop bad attention, it just cuts good away from bad. But I still want unsexy burlesque. Reclamation, maybe?
Unsexy is showing all the things you did to yourself.
Unsexy is baring the scars, the fat, the hair, and all the little things that you made You.
Unsexy is sharing the contortions of mind that allow you walk in the street each day.
Burlesque is making art of your body and movement. I wonder if the two could be smushed together.
Today, I realised unsexy is familiar to me. A tactic I used since my transition. I don't know when I started using it. But at least now I know it's a tactic I've used. And I have a label for it. But now it's leading me to form a partial theory that's more than a little dark.
I have no fucking clue if unsexy burlesque will make sense outside my head. I don't know if it's doable. I don't know if it's a thing should be done. I don't know if I should attempt it even if it could and should be done.
But I think this funeral stirred a lot.
I eulogized him on facebook, and I meant what I said. He truly was inspirational.
I took the full day off, for his funeral and wake. And I'm glad. But I just feel so...
I feel angrier than I did. I feel sadder. I feel a lot more than usual.
I feel bad because I can recognise when friends are down, but am completely ill-equipped to help.
I realised that trans guys here have a brotherhood, and NBs have something similar. And I don't think the girls do - if there are bonds, it's through other means. I wish I knew how to fix that.
Coming home I realised this is the first funeral I've been to where it wasn't blood.
I feel the need for loud noise and creation in the same breath. Which is weird, because I normally consider my acts of creation as silent.
I want an unsexy burlesque. I don't even know if he'd be into that. I like to think he would.
I realised why I want unsexy. I don't know if burlesque is compatible, but I want it to work. It could be a play, or a song, or a poem, but I think none of them are what I want. I don't know what I want but it's not that.
I realised why I want unsexy. I hide in unsexy. It's an easy option, and it's self-destructive. Unsexy means nobody sensible is interested. Unsexy is safe. But unsexy doesn't stop bad attention, it just cuts good away from bad. But I still want unsexy burlesque. Reclamation, maybe?
Unsexy is showing all the things you did to yourself.
Unsexy is baring the scars, the fat, the hair, and all the little things that you made You.
Unsexy is sharing the contortions of mind that allow you walk in the street each day.
Burlesque is making art of your body and movement. I wonder if the two could be smushed together.
Today, I realised unsexy is familiar to me. A tactic I used since my transition. I don't know when I started using it. But at least now I know it's a tactic I've used. And I have a label for it. But now it's leading me to form a partial theory that's more than a little dark.
I have no fucking clue if unsexy burlesque will make sense outside my head. I don't know if it's doable. I don't know if it's a thing should be done. I don't know if I should attempt it even if it could and should be done.
But I think this funeral stirred a lot.