OurLadyJ

645am

god, it’s early

i’m on my way to teach

only 6 days left as a boy

last night, i had a dream

i was taking a yoga class

and the instructor started in on the creation theory

and i became outraged

screaming something about

how full of shit stupid people are

and the entire class turned against me

like zombies

so

i climbed out of the window of the gym we were in

obviously some christian college

and found my way to the stage at la mama etc

where justin bond was singing

with kenny mellman and rufus wainwright playing two pianos

luckily, a third piano awaited

out-of-tune and falling apart

bright red, chipped paint

so i jumped onstage

and rang in the apocolypse

with my mates

fuck yoga

getting a pedicure

the woman asks me if i’d like a wax

and, as i look up from reading david wojnarowicz

i remember the proud man

at the bathes.

i was 19. he, much older.

3,4,5am

‘hey beautiful, do you like my new wax?’

i shiver/shudder/etc

and pull myself back into my pedicure chair

thinking of reasons why i shouldn’t post this on my blog.

who is going to judge me, my experience, etc.

but this is my memory to own, for better or worse.

as she paints my toenails, i tell her ‘no wax.’

i don’t even know what happened

still trying to digest last week.

adjusting to having a girlfriend.

finding myself censoring the blog.

i’ll give it an honest try.

so, after not speaking to her for 1.5 yrs

i went to my mom’s bday party

as a woman

with my girlfriend

and a guy who i once had a mad crush on.

sounds like fun already.

we got into PA friday evening

had dinner with my parents and little brother

then shot potato guns and set off fireworks

then drank coffee and hopped in the hot tub.

me in a two piece

and my parents were snapping photos left and right.

totally wierd, but a lot of fun.

we watched my most recent concert on my laptop

and then called it a night.

it felt not unlike taking acid.

then the next day, the above mentioned picnicked with

my grandparents, my older bro & his wife.

and everyone treated me like a family member.

i thought, ‘what the f is going on here?’

the last time i saw them,

my parents were telling me that i was an awful human being

for wearing eyeliner to dinner.

people change.

even right-winged war-loving christians

can prove their humanity

when they see that they might lose their child.

it’s nice to have my family back.

exhausted

sleepy, me

i feel i need to write about

the miracle that took place

last weekend in pennsylvania

my family embraced me

as a woman

for the first time

my mother smiled and loved me

and my grandmother told me i was beautiful

my father joked and laughed with me

and my brother & i played duets on the piano

it was a wonderful homecoming

deeper than i can explain

i was ready to move on without my family

but now,

they are with me again.

amazing

so maybe i’m a fag

trapped in the body of a trans woman

cuz last night

i freaked out when anika noni rose

sang at her sound check

and i handed her the mic with gaga in my eyes

seriously, i was on the floor.

then the kids performed their hearts out

and rosie had tears

as did most people in the audience.

14 hour days

easily become rejuvinated

in moments that reveal heart

now i’m off to PA

to visit the people that raised me

as a woman, for the first time

tiffany & co

a good day

natalie’s on the broadway

2nite, dallas bbq

a really big margarita

then hanging out backstage

at legally blonde

a nice day

remembering jerry falwell is dead

thank god.

that man drove me crazy

while coming of age

i knew my family trusted him

and he despised everything that i stood for.

you can connect the dots.

so ding dong the witch is dead

and my people have one less demon in front of them.

a wonderful day.

my girl loves me

and i love her.

a very good day

last night

so much to take in

i’m in that place

the day after

thinking about the words

to ‘africa’

revisiting the feeling behind the piece

i’ve refused to be called a victim of hiv

because victim is an ugly word to me

but the dictionary tells me that

a victim is a person who is harmed by an event or action

and so victims, we all are.

but to be accurate, i wasn’t a victim of hiv

i was a victim of sexual repression

the psychological castration that is accepted

under the guise of christianity

and this is the cause of aids in “post-aids” nations.

developed nations who have the capability to stop this virus

will continue the spread of it

until they learn to remove shame from beauty,

guilt from pleasure, detestation from that which is inexplicable to us

what to do

my hair is my top worry for tuesday’s show right now

which is a really really good thing

the band sounded amazing in rehearsal 2nite

i could die under the bridges of the strings

maybe i’ll write a nice tune to die to some day

like my grandmother

her favorite song, i’ll fly away

was playing when she went

sometimes you just need a soundtrack

i’m exhausted, incoherent and rambling