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About Me....
 um... who me? uh i guess i'm the lounge's resident tranny. old school bustie formerly known as butta.  my new {wo([manifest]o)} Last entries
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hey. don't be a bone head. sign my guest map. it'd make me really happy.
today was the day of graduation from the welding program, and daddy was sweet enough to show up... bringing 2 dozen roses for me. before her, i never cared much for roses, they always seemed like the default flower, and most times the smell wasn't so strong-- it had been bred out of them. but daddy-- well daddy is obsessed with them. you show her most roses and she can tell you there name and can tell you how she knows by the thorns, rose size and strength of smell. but the thorns are mostly why she likes them. she is a sadist, after all. she picked out a really obscure breed of rose to plant all along her back fence. this particular strain of rose have a medium size bulb, but have a very strong smell, but lots of very long thorns. if anyone should try to climb over her fence, they won't make it far without getting into a world of hurt. i told you she was a sadist... but that isnt why roses will always be linked to daddy for me. one of our first play sessions, she bought me 24 roses. she called all over town to find these roses-- they still had the thorns-- and they were long and very sharp. after a very romantic date, she took me to her bed room, took the head off of each rose and showered me with rose petals, then, me on all fours, proceeded to whip me with the thorny stems... my skin stung for days... i hated it... i loved it. so naturally i was thinking of that when she brought these to my graduation. but most of the thorns had been bred to be extremely small...boo! lately i have been much more masochistic than usual (usually i'm not masochistic at all)), so i would have appreciated a rose whipping more now than i did on that first date. but today turned out to be more about daddy feeding me. i should explain, i've got a feeding fetish. like i need another quirk, right? but there is some thing really erotic about being fed to me,. i can feel it, physically-- butterflies in my stomach, chills all up and down my body-- i get weak in the knees, and i get very submissive. i can't help it. it just happens. one thing daddy figured out pretty quickly was that the way to my heart was through my mouth.... there is something about the way she talks to me when she feeds me. it melts me to my core. you never really know where your kinks really are until you trip over them, and when daddy offered to feed me years ago, i was just as suprized as she was that it literally gave me chills. even more so when she held the fork full of cake to my lips. i suppose this has to do with my body image too. i'm tall, model's build, size 6/8 but ideally, i'd love to be about size 12/14. i just think chubby/full figured women are more beautiful.... i've been trying to gain weight since i changed my meds. it's hard for me to gain weight. i usually forget to eat, or ignore it when i am hungry (like i am now), but i have been doing better and trying really hard. i actually gained 5 lbs in a week, only to lose 3lbs in less than two days. ugh. daddy wanted to take me some place to celebrate, but i am the perpetual cheap date. i know money is tight for her, so i feel awful when she wants to splurge on me. so i talked her into jack in the box. i got one of their biggest burger meals, and 2 tacos, then we went to a fancy upscale grocery store and got 3 different very rich desserts. i scarfed the jack in the box food down asap, and then daddy brought out the deserts. i got thru the first two, and half way thru the third, before i could eat no more. it has been so long since i'd eaten that much, and it felt amazing because of the feeding, but revolting for eating so much. but then daddy told me he was proud of me for eating so much , and i forgot everything but daddy's opinion. even with all the bullshit of looking for welding work, it was a great day. all this, roses, and someone who cares about me. somedays despite everything, i feel extremely lucky.
today was crazy day... i decided to redo my altar above my bed. i wish i had a pic of it, i'm quite proud of it-- my studio came with a murphy bed, you know the kind that folds up in the wall. well i never really put it up, so it was empty space for years. but i did this painting of a cartoon ts girl wearing a hood with horns on it. it's not scary at all, not like it sounds, but it was a my way of encouraging myself-- it has the names of a lot of my female and transgendered heroines, as well as the upside-down crossed out names of a lot of the fucked up doctors and writers who stigmatized people like me. its style is similar to basquiat, a major infuence at the time. i took a bunch of chinese prayer paper and wheat paste/wall papered the interior space, then hung a red light from the top of the space, as well as a black light, hooked it up with a speaker from my stereo, and then put a little table in it. and soon it was covered with roses and my altar. i collect madonnas, or any female bust, i have a few of them, most scattered around my place. about 7 go on the altar, the biggest of which is in the center on a bamboo tray covered with flower lais, just beneath the painting. to her right and left are two sets of electric candles, a large and a small one on each side, several trinkets, symbols and pictures. there are different flowers that i put on there as well as a wine glass that i fill when giving offerings/prayers. behind her is a semi circle of black feathers, and behind that another semi circle of peacock feathers. she holds in her hands a glow in the dark rosary beads. for my birthday daddy got me a medium sized (8") bronze statue of shiva (god of contradictions and paradox) as ardhanari-- the god who is half woman. s/he is in front of the big bust about 10 inches. this bamboo tray is on a metal first aid case full of personal momentos. under that is a gold cloth table cloth..the end result is that the altar sort of looks like its floating. i took it all apart today to rearrange it. i opened up one of the first aid kits, and.... it was full of old momentos. i'm the super sentemental type, and if i ever dated a girl and she happened to jot me a note-- bet dollars to donuts i still have it. i don't hesitate to say when i met kitty, it was love at first site-- i know it was. i remember writing down her name on a piece of paper walking home from meeting her, and i still have the paper to prove it. i knew i was on to a good thing... in the box was the pictures i'd been looking for. of my 3 major girlfriends. it's so funny... looking at them i wondered what my life would be like if i was still with them. would i have transitioned? it's different with kitty-- i did transition while i was dating her. but what about a? or c? looking back i can't say as i was the best boyfriend. i tried, but i realize now what an asshole i was. more than anything i cheated. i was a late bloomer, and in highschool, a drama nerd. it wasn't till i moved to sf before i had a serious relationship, and soon after i discovered that with a little work women were attracted to me, and well, i went simple. i needed to grow up....c looked a bit more sullen in the pix than i remember. in my memory, she looks like liz taylor in her 20's, but with a hair style like morticia. jet black, bangs in the front and long in the back. my memory wasn't far from the truth. there are some pix i took after we got in some argument, and she was crying. i swear, she looked so angelic when she cried-- it was so rare, but i just wanted to kiss her all over when she cried. she was goth, i loved that she never wore anything but black. she talked with this great smart ass sarcasm, and had a cornish rex (you know, the hairless cats) named kirkigard. or relationship ran it's course. in all honesty i think she was just bored with me... then there was a. it was so good to see her pix. god, she was so beautiful. i still have a huge crush on her. she was an older graduate student, fluent in french, and looked the part. i met her at a halloween party. my friends called her 'tiny triangles' because of the eyeliner that she wore in the corners of her eyes. it was one of the things that attracted me to her, and while i do my eyeliner differently, it was something i borrowed from her. i loved her cheeks, a crooked tooth, and dyed black hair, always piled on top of her head slopily, bangs in her eyes. oh, and that she was pigeon toed. she was great. she was the first person, the first girlfriend that i confided in about what i said was my crossdressing. i want to say that i wasn't lying, but i knew i was trans in junior high. i think i was being hopeful. here was the perfect girl for me.... why would i ever want to think it wouldn't last because i needed to transition....i wanted her to be my salvation, to save me from myself. of course that's too much for anyone. transitoning is difficult business. i never really believed anyone could love me because i was trans, and i pushed her away. i don't even think that i was aware of it. somewhere along the line i decided that she couldn't handle going thru all of that with me. i don't know for sure she couldn't have, and part of me feels guilty for not giving her the option. i broke up with her, and never explained why. now more than anything, i miss her friendship. screwed that up. we don't even talk, but i think that was a choice she made too. she jettisoned some of her other friends...she was becoming a high school teacher when we broke up. i knew one of her coworkers was crushed out on her, and i thought they'd probably date afterwards... and they did. i was happy about it. they were on the same path. i didn't know where the hell i was going. just that i had to the thing i was most afraid of.... there were some pix of me and a, and me and c. it had been so long since i had seen pix of that man. i wish i could say he looked sad, but i didn't. i looked in love. in each of the pix, i was looking at my gf at the time, so happy to be with them. when i fall, i fall pretty heavy, and you can see it in my face. there are some days i wish i could go back to being him. usually the reason is the same: i meet or see some girl that i get a instant crush on, and i wonder what i would do if i was still a boy. i wonder if i would be asking her on a date, if i would be in love and finding a life with her. ugh. my life is full of second guessing. i doubt every tiny little choice, every little fucking fork in the road. even with kitty proving me so very wrong, i still have the hardest time believing anyone could love me. hell, i have a hard time loving me. then again, i am easily my worst critic. sometimes i think i'm traveling backwards. i was full of such bravado when i first transitioned. scared shitless, but brave. i remember kitty and i crying ourselves asleep at night. we were both so afraid of the future. we didn't know what we were in for.... now i just feel weary. the welding program is over and i realize that it is going to be a bitch to get a job welding for me. no one wants to give me a chance...it's so much different in the abstract than it is in real life, in your face. now i cry because i know exactly what i'm in for. and i haven't the shelter of kitty. she always knew what to say, but since we broke up, since she moved away, i feel alone. even with daddy. i just feel so fragile lately. so vulnerable. looking back i see so much that i've lost. the funny thing is it's not something that i think i really ever had. i'm tempted to make an offering to the god/dess on my altar, but i think, that's just one more thing i've lost faith in....
the last couple of weeks have been a bit weird, but then, all my weeks are weird. welding class is offically done, and now comes the time to look for work... and i am scared shitless. there is so much that pushes me to be brave-- to work beyond what terrifies me, and i put on a brave face most of the time, but sometimes i can't. it's beyond me. daddy was nice enough to ask me to go to portland with her. she needed to get her dreads redone, and with nothing but bills staring me in the face, if you asked me to go to the 7th circle of hell i'd have asked when the next flight was leaving. i'm not the best traveling companion. i'm not. i used to be, but this life for me has been one of collapse. my world has shrunk. i am ruled by fear. in some ways this is nothing new, back when i was a boy i would have bouts of agoraphobia-- i never really noticed it until i got a place of my own. roomates always kept thoughts of transitioning and externalizing my body issues at bay. but once i lived alone, i had to face my shit. i felt so fraudulant walking outside dressed in boy clothes. when i had roomates, my vintage 3 piece suits and dreads were my armor, my refuge, but adrift on my own, i felt as if it were a huge lie. i knew internally the path for me, and it haunted me...i was afraid someone would discover my secret. i was paralyzed by the thought. i remember i used to love traveling-- i was tall enough to be intimidating, even though i was thin as a rail. the dreadlocks added an air of mystery, and well, i am black, and no matter how kind, polite, articulate or whatever adjective you use, that card turns away a lot of fucked up shit. now something as small as just going to the restroom is an ordeal, and i suppose if you aren't trans, you might not understand, but it is still one of the few places where there is sex segregation. anywhere else there is enough to distract people from me, or rules of politeness might keep them from saying or doing anything-- the bathroom that is the place were i'd be most likely to get stares, those whispers that eat self-esteem in gulps. that is where i am most vulernable. the most fragile. it is also the least avoidable place no matter where you go.... i wonder if it's just me, although i know it's not. i've heard transmen talk about this too, and i'd say 95% of transmen pass. it's just instinctual. no matter how many complements people give me, or innocuous questions that would clue me in that i'm probably passing, like people asking me how tall i am, and taking about female relatives who are my height or taller, alleviate my anxiety. i daydream of walking carelessly into a bathroom, not caring, not worried for a second. but that seems impossible.... when i think about this, and other similar, innocuous fears, i feel handicaped. crippled by my rational irrationality. i understand so much about being handycapped, i think, even though i am able-bodied. i understand the sting when you look at someone and they nervously look away, unsure how to cope with my difference, overwhelmed by the guilt of a lingering glance. i know that dis-ease. i used to get it when i was a boy and i would see someone who was trans. perhaps for me it was because i knew that i was trans too, but hidden in my armor of shame.... but i was talking about travel. i used to be the best person to travel with, i loved looking for the hidden places, the nooks and crannies of any city. endlessly exploring them. but my mind travels back to the last time i was in portland with my daddy-- back then she was just my girlfriend, who wanted a romantic weekend, and my phobias got the best of me. i spent the entire time in a very pricey bed and breakfast crying. overwhelmed by even the smallest walk to the corner. i put on a brave face by the last day and found my fears were unfounded, but the walls come crashing down at a moment's notice, and i am reduced to little more than a puddle. this time i was some what prepared, tho. i had been learning how to 'work my weave', practicing retro hairstyles for one of my drag mom's weddings. i had figured out how to look cute with a minimal ammount of fuss and muss, and the sheen of confidance of having to face people everyday at welding school, still reinforced my posture. i could still put on that mask, that got me thru those fears. it also helped that my daddy and i have been kind of 'honeymooning'. falling for each other again. this time a bit wiser for wear. already knowing the other's flaws. our daddy/daughter relationship helped too. if i was afraid of doing something, if my fear got the best of me, she could always tell me that she would never let anything happen to me and that i should do it for her, and i would bite my lip and do it. i think she is just sort of figuring all of this out, of course, but she has a lot of power over me, and she is just starting to explore it. down in portland we had a ball, and her hairdresser remarked that we seemed like we were on the same page, not like the last time we were down, the year earlier. this time we met a couple down there for coffee, mostly out of my urging. i figured i could use the self esteem boost while i was in the area. they are a bdsm, femme domme couple, a and b. to be more exact, she, a, is the domme, he, alias b, the sub. i have the utmost in respect for them, although i have never seen them play. i don't really need to. the person that i know who is probably one of the top 5 heavy duty masochist subs in seattle says that that b is way more hardcore than he is. which says a helluva lot. ....and b has i HUGE crush on me. i suppose some day i would love to spend a week with them just learning how to do half the things that a does to b, i have a feeling he would be so much fun to play with. i do miss my domme side, and my friend assures me, there are crazy things he would be happy to do for me. i don't think i could really stick with lots of blood play, but it would be nice to try my hand at it. you never know what kink will catch fire next, do you? i have to laugh that i'm talking so casually about blood play, after saying going to pee is scary. lol.... it's like everything is backwords. i know that some of these things freak people out, but i just shrug...am i a hot mess or what? after coffee, driving out of town, daddy was talking about how b was lusting after me while we talked and ate. she said anytime i'd ask b a question, he'd get all shy. it was very cute. it's so nice dealing with people you know from the outset are kinky-- and that they love trans stuff? mmm. even better. perhaps that's why i feel more comfortable in a bdsm/queer arena. that is a space where i am the normal, and buffy and biff are the freak.... my daddy relationship is growing more comfortable to me. although, i know daddy doesn't want to live it 24/7, for right now, i crave that. that pull to subspace is so strong. it's a different kind of protection, i don't need an armor, i give my fears, my trouble to daddy. it's a heavy weight. she is sweet to carry it for me for even an instant. although, on occasion, like seeing b, i miss my badass sexy, smirky domina self. i miss that command. its that armor again, but this time it's my interior that's girded. you command respect from the inside. all my insecurities vanish, or maybe i'm strong enough to ignore them on my own. its nice to feel so strong, and see that strength reflected in how people see you. like when b would look at me. or at a... defering constantly, like i am with my daddy. he is everything, like a is to b. and i love that too. how can you not love someone who talks about you like a goddess? that was one of the things that first attracted me to my daddy. back when we were just dating. long before she grew into my daddy, before our break up. the first time we had sex, she was so reverent-- i was her goddess. it felt so good. but i think we both wanted it too much. i really needed to be pushed off my pillar. i needed her to know how flawed i was, and still want me. i needed her to see me for who i was. . i suppose it's the polar opposite of how most people see me, they see only the exterior. we stopped at a touristy beach town on the way back. daddy wanted to do the the bumpercars, and see the sights, but i couldn't. i wasn't up to it. the very homogenetity-- if there is such a word--- was suffocating. i felt like i was being looked at cross-eyed constantly. it was, i was. overwhelmed. its that sense of being judged without depth. like my family, like my church. like my mom. i've been reading this book, drag king dreams, it's by leslie feinberg, who wrote what is the best fiction book about transexuals, stone butch blues. it's kind of funny , but reading his books always deepens my understanding about what this life means, what it is about. he doesn't really offer many answers, only more questions, but that is what this life is, a bunch of unfolding questions. but i think, being a f2m, a transman, he understands that fear. the main charecter, max, is almost nocturnal, not wanting to be seen during the day. it's so funny that being trans comes down to sight, or seeing. at one point he writes about a slightly different kind of seeing, the kind, which, to me is at the heart of love. seeing that person not just warts and all, but their essence, the person they are beyond their body, their pretentions, their facade, to that soul. and he does it so elequently. love, it's said, is risk. it's even more so with transpeople, there is risk for partners of transfolk, who have to deal with the stigma every bit as much as the person who is differently gendered, but also it's effect, it's opression on them, their fears that they must deal with. my daddy told me that she understood now, why i couldn't always do everything she wanted to. she said she wanted me to get beyond it eventually, but for now she wouldn't push. instead, of idealizing me, she saw me clearly, flawed, afraid, disabled. |
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interests: sk8 boarding with a long board, skateboard drifting street art/stickers/graff/stencils art/television/radio/magazines/ (video)gaming thriftin' and liftin' asian cinema- particularlly korean films, movies from the 60's + 70's, screwball comedies of the 30s-40's, german expresionist film, horror and film noir, neo-noir, sci-fi particularly dystopias, self-reflexive film. film theory. almost any genre of musics, particularly soul, r&b, jazz, blues, old, new and true school hip-hop, jump blues, jazz vocals, "incredibly strange music", "golden throats", odd covers, asian underground, cock rock, hair metal, j and k pop and hop, the "countrypolian" sound, rockabilly, surf, soundtracks and theme songs, swing, big band, lounge, tradional ez listening, bossa-nova, international pop. subcultural histories. asian subcultures, american subcultures, historical tangents, politics, gender theory, queer theory, feminism, feminist theory, feminist film theory, transgendered issues. and welding! yay for OAW!!!! blog categories: music film politics art etc las hormones y vida travisti all categories Search My Blog
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Jul 19 2007, 04:01 AM