2004-08-20

boy, oh boi

hello, my receptacle for words and such. I have nothing to put into you today. no stress to work out. no complaints to air. nothing planned to write.

I just wanted to say hi. I miss you. I miss thinking about all the great things you could contain one day.

but come to think of it, something happened last night at the drag king contest, I was fronting. sis was in town and her friend H wanted to boi-dyke it out, so I decided to join in on the fun.

two ziplock baggies, trader joe's jasmine brown rice, and a borrowed bra under a tight black muscle shirt and I look like a lezzie on T who never lopped off her/his chest. forget drag kings, trannies have more facial hair than I do.

the illusion worked. we joked that I should hit on dykes. however, I got approached by a photographer who's looking for models to explore gender. I had to confess that I was a biological fella. she's never photographed a man before.

her trepidation, understandable if she's exploring boi/ftm/tranny culture, made me think my gmail account wouldn't get the email she sent. with links to her fabulous work.

she wants to set up a photo shoot in September. and I feel fine about being a M to FTM. I'm comfortably male, but have experienced trans-phobia, in so much as I don't fit societal definitions of masculine. though I've never thought of myself as female. I'm just a fey, nelly boy who's more comfortable with women.

depending on the scene (interviews, weddings, school, activism, concert, sporting events, work) my many male genders are all performances. costumed in a suit, in hipster duds, in a Speedo or running shorts.

I even feel like I'm performing my maturity, because, surely, I'm not ready to be thirty-one.

earlier - later