![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deep red bells
Jun. 2nd, 2006 08:35 amThunderstorms yesterday as soon as I disembarked, huge winds whipping trees, downpour and hail, lightning streaking across the sky. Then it calmed down and only started raining again later that night, while I lay in my room wilting like some cold-blooded plant in a greenhouse. I want to go chew on cold red meat for breakfast, which is a kind of disgusting desire but one I might fulfill anyway. I don't know what's going on with me but I better lay claim to some sort of vegetarian practice cos this can't go on like this- meat should be intermittent, not full-face plate-down back with a vengeance, yes?
I started reading Max Valerio's book. Some parts when he talks about not wanting a radicalized trans movement to speak for, denigrate, and dominate non-politicized transsexual experiences, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt (as parts of this are to me a very valid critique) but instead just feel my stomach turn because of the way he establishes himself as an epistemic authority on FTM realness, linking it to medical intervention and a red-blooded understanding of male masculinity. (To wit: the excerpt in this bridge called home.) Anyway, I like the plan to pass the book along the FTMoron mailing list.
Dreams I can't remember but I woke up feeling sad. Maybe it's the heat. I sure would love to go to shul tonight. Also I feel like making an offering of this half-bottle of too-smokey scotch, pour it on the ground watch it soak up sink down and rise, but I don't know: is it rude to give Them something you don't enjoy too much yourself?
I started reading Max Valerio's book. Some parts when he talks about not wanting a radicalized trans movement to speak for, denigrate, and dominate non-politicized transsexual experiences, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt (as parts of this are to me a very valid critique) but instead just feel my stomach turn because of the way he establishes himself as an epistemic authority on FTM realness, linking it to medical intervention and a red-blooded understanding of male masculinity. (To wit: the excerpt in this bridge called home.) Anyway, I like the plan to pass the book along the FTMoron mailing list.
Dreams I can't remember but I woke up feeling sad. Maybe it's the heat. I sure would love to go to shul tonight. Also I feel like making an offering of this half-bottle of too-smokey scotch, pour it on the ground watch it soak up sink down and rise, but I don't know: is it rude to give Them something you don't enjoy too much yourself?
