This Southern Faggot's Blog


Everyone is dieing
September 26, 2016, 10:42 pm
Filed under: People to remember, Southern life, Thinking Thinking | Tags: , ,

We grew up together. We discovered our Queerness together. She introduced me to the intersectional politics that has shaped who I am, to this very day. She gave me my first radical Queer book that changed everything for me. She gave me my first Mattilda book. We danced together. We laughed. We cried. We lived together for a while (not a good idea). We learned from each other. I learned so much from her.

She died not knowing how important she was to me. She died without me ever properly explaining to me how important she was to me being the person I am today.

She is fucking dead. She will be dead, forever.

For however long I am alive, I’ll always know one thing. I will never see her again.

I can never call her for advice. I can never hear her laugh. I can never process fucked up situations with her again.

My entire life, I was told that people die of a) age or b) a very serious sickness.

People don’t tell you as a kid just how fragile life is. People don’t tell you that when you grow up, your Queer & Trans friends will be living in a world so horrible, they are forced to end it, because they just can’t take it anymore. They don’t tell you that as a kid. They fucking lie.

I have no idea how to talk about suicide. My immediate response was shock. I thought no, not her. Never her, this must be a mistake.

I’m worried that was my initial response, because I thought she was ‘stronger than that’. But I have to check that shit. Suicide isn’t weakness. I have to remember this.

I already miss her so much. I can’t stop thinking of her in that last moment. I just hope that she found the peace that she wanted. The peace she needed. If I can just believe she got that, then I’ll be a bit better.

It feels like Queer & Trans folks are dropping all around me. What do I do if I wake up and realize that everyone I’ve ever loved is dead? What will I do?



condoms and faggots

The other day I heard some dude identified faggot tell his friends that his classroom was recently split up, boys and girls, but he laughingly said that he didn’t know which side of the room he should go to! Isn’t that funny?

But I get it, or least I think I do. I understand faggots hearing their entire life about how feminine they are. Turning that around and being a nelly faggot who becomes ‘one of the girls’, I get it. But I am worried that faggots of today are taking this completely out of context and male chauvinist asshole faggots now think they can’t be called out, because, hey, there just ‘one of the girls’. Right?

Could this also be where some (a lot?) of this false idea of some sort of gay mainstream trans-friendly “community” comes from?

I am wondering if the feminization of faggots, has gone too far.

Have the origins of this campy queen culture been lost in the sea of str8 actin gay dudes and mainstream assimilation?

It’s late and I am going to go to bed, but I feel like I will talk about this more, soon.

The other day I took a few (12, maybe) condoms over to this punk house and everyone was so amazed at where ‘all those’ condoms came from. Between yesterday and today I have had a bunch of people come up to me and have a conversation with me, the entire tone of the conversation being general amazement.

But, it was only like, 12 condoms. Is that really a lot? I mean, I recognize that I generally have more condoms around the house than most people I know, but it is kind of terrifying to think that 12 condoms is really ~*a big deal*~.



It didn’t rain today.
January 19, 2010, 10:23 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , ,

I have an almost overwhelming desire to be a home owner. I want nothing more to have a place that I can call home. I want a place that is always requiring my time, fixing this, working on that.

I want to live with someone, for the first time in my life, that I feel completely comfortable with. I don’t want to have to choose what parts of me I feel able to share with them. I want to be able to talk about consent, abuse, vulnerability, sex work, gender, sexuality. I want to be able to have conversations without having to leave any part of myself behind, because I know they won’t agree, or they won’t get it, or refuse to.

It scares me that I would be completely comfortable ‘settling down’ RIGHT NOW. It scares me that I feel so comfortable planting my roots, at an age that people would consider ‘so young’.

It scares me that all of these desire don’t involve you.

You would still be in my life, clearly, but you would be playing a far smaller role than you have been playing over the past 5 years. What would it even feel like to not live in a house with you, to not be able to see you multiple times a day? Somedays I think this would be the most healthy thing for us, some days I think that might kill me. Or you.



I talk about ducks more.
November 29, 2009, 5:24 am
Filed under: my head hurts. | Tags: , , , ,

I really like the way this website is put together.

It’s that time of the year where it gets cold and all I ever feel like doing is walking around my town. Shivering (because thats better than feeling nothing) and wondering what other people are doing at this very moment. Not people I know, necessarily, but just people, in general.

I wish I knew how to explain this frequent desire to be alone. Maybe it isn’t a desire to be alone, maybe it is just a desire to be silent and for that silence to be okay. It will pass, it always does, but right now, I just don’t want to talk to anyone if I don’t have to. I would like to sit in the park, listening to the ducks snore-quack and possibly holding someones hand and being silent, but that’s okay.



Hello
November 27, 2009, 5:18 am
Filed under: Interesting day, People to remember | Tags: , , ,

I have no desire to drink, but I do have the desire to drink whiskey with you, while walking by the river, each sip stinging our throats (mine worse than yours). The pain of each sip is what I enjoy, you enjoy the process of drunkenness.

We talk about vulnerability and both open up ourselves in ways that we didn’t think were possible. We talk about tricks, you find relief in talking about the worst ones, I find it in talking about my favorites. We end up on that floating dock on the river, the one that seems like they would want to keep people off, but make no attempt to. You know the one. We sit there for hours, feet dangling, reaching for the water but not quite making it. A storm is coming, or has already past, we aren’t sure, but the clouds sure are moving fast.

Look at all the light pollution. It makes the clouds absolutely beautiful. We wonder where they are going. Why the rush? I have no desire to leave, you want to float away as fast as possible. Desperately looking for stability, for some sort of stable home.

This whole time I have been nervously picking at my nailpolish, now my nails are a wreck. You notice and don’t say anything.

We both end up holding each other, but I don’t remember when that happened. We both know this won’t lead to much more and thats okay. Sex is easy to find, we both know this. What we really need is someone to sit with and where silence is okay. Together, we have this.

Soon you will get bored with this town, as everyone eventually becomes. You will move away and I will stay behind. Why don’t I have any desire to leave? What is keeping me in a place where I feel constantly so vulnerable that I don’t want to leave the house. The idea of leaving terrifies me more. The idea of going somewhere new, having to start over makes me want to vomit. At the same time, the idea of moving to a new place where no one knows my past is fantastic.

Eventually, we leave the dock and end up back at my house. We fall asleep and in the morning, you already have your plans together for leaving.

Someday maybe I will be able to leave. Until then, people will come and go, but something will hold me here. Maybe someday I will find out what.



Elephant 6
November 16, 2009, 8:04 pm
Filed under: People to remember | Tags: ,

For most of my life, I have kept to my self. As a kid, I would climb trees, talk to animals, play in the creek, walk through the woods, whatever I had to do to make it. To survive. I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing at the time, but now I get it.

Middle school was really, really rough for me. I did such a good job of forcing myself to forget, that now all I could tell you is where I went to school. I vaguely remember what the front of the building looked like. I have no desire to go back and never will. It is the only school I have ever gone where I have no desire to return. To remember anything about it.

After middle school, I became slightly more social and developed a few good friends, but I still kept to myself a whole lot. This is about the time I discovered the band Of Montreal and then, the Elephant 6 Recording Company, which was just a bunch of friends making music. Elephant 6 quickly became my best friends and felt more like family more than my bio-family ever did. I couldn’t get enough and I horded as much of it that I could, all through high school.

Elephant 6 is all but dead at this point, but I often think back to those times and I really, really don’t think I would be here, today, without all of that wonderful music. What a fucking weird thing to think about.

Anyway, about a year ago, my computer, amung other things, were stolen from me. Ever since then, I haven’t listened to much music at all. I didn’t miss it at the time, but now I am going through the long process of re-importing all that music to my new computer and it is kind of overwhelming. I just want to curl up and cry and giggle, at the same time and never leave my house again. I have a lot of really amazing stuff and I can’t wait to re-discover it all again.

I have missed you, a whole lot.

I think what Elephant 6 meant for us is very simple: there’s something pure and infinite in you, that wants to come out of you, and can come out of no other person on the planet. That’s what you’ve got to share, and that’s as real and important as the fact that you’re alive. We were able, at a really young age, to somehow protect each other so we could feel that. The world at large, careerism, money, magazines, your parents, the people at the rock club in your town, other kids, nothing is going to give you that message, necessarily. In fact, most things are going to lead you away from it, sadly, because humanity is really confused at the moment. But you wouldn’t exist if the universe didn’t need you. And any time I encounter something beautiful that came out of a human somewhere, that’s them, that’s their own soul. That’s just pure, whatever its physicality is, if the person can play piano, if they can’t play piano, if they’re tone deaf, whatever it is, if it’s pure, it hits you like a sledgehammer. It fills up your own soul, it makes you want to cry, it makes you glad you’re alive, it lets you come out of you. And that’s what we need: we desperately need you.

Julian Koster



Silence = Death

I have a lot of thoughts about a lot of things jumbled up in my thoughts right now and I am having trouble separating them. Hopefully this will help.

I have never been in a relationship. Ever. Except that one time when I was a kid at the pool and all the kids decided that me and someone, who I didn’t know, named Betsy, were dating. Betsy’s mom introduced herself to my dad and I was so confused at what was going on. Our “relationship” didn’t last long. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I ever actually met Betsy. With that being said, I can’t stand people who are so ~*in love*~ with whoever that all they can talk about is ~*them~*, or the next time they will see ~*them*~, or how wonderful ~*they*~ are.  It has gotten to the point where, when I see people who are this ~*in love*~, it somewhat invalidates everything else they might say or do (and I feel awful in saying that, but I don’t know another way to say it).  It feels like to me that they have allowed themselves to be tricked, by this idea of love, which apparently I don’t believe in. Like they have fallen into this trap of sweet monogamy that has been built for us, so that we get each other cute cards, settle down and never fuck anyone else. Unfortunately, nothing I could ever say would convince anyone that I am not saying this out of jealously. I guess I am fine with that, maybe I am just jealous, but deep down it does not feel like jealously, at all. (note: this isn’t me harping on all relationships, mostly just the ones that spring up and suddenly the two people are ~*in love*~ and thats all they can talk about).

Their has been some chatter on the Facebook, over the saying “Silence = Death”, which has had me thinking about how silence and vulnerability work together in my daily interactions with people. I often get the feeling that people don’t feel that my name and pronoun/gender are very important to me, as I don’t fight tooth and nail (not sure what that even means) to make sure that people always use the correct name or pronoun. I think that what people don’t realize, is that it takes a whole fucking lot of energy (which I don’t have) to constantly be on guard, waiting for that fuck up of theirs, so that you can fix it. I hate that I feel my silence towards people on this, feels like it is giving them permission to continue fucking up.

But my silence isn’t death, it’s helping me continue to live in an awful world where I have to have some shred of energy to continue to live.

Clearly ‘Silence = Death’ is not a new saying, but somehow I had forgotten about it. Seeing it for the first time in years, I started to look at it in less of a historical context (which feels weird to call it), but more of how visibility, death, silence, invisibility, boxes, closets, etc. all factor into this seemingly simple phrase of, Silence = Death and how all of these things are so difficult to talk about in a Queer context, as we are still learning how to communicate in a new, fabulous Queer way. I am just worried that people read this saying, say to themselves “Silence = BAD, Visibility = GOOD” and leave it at that, which is clearly very problematic for lots of folks and completely ignoring folks pasts, choices, desires, etc.

I am amazed and glad that this, from Little Light over on Feministe came up at the time it did. I think that a lot of times, we talk about things in a way that refuses to put a name to the monster that is ‘vulnerability.’ Talking about vulnerability automatically makes you vulnerable, which is often really scary, but that is something that I need to do a better job of. When I have the energy, at least.

See, I can refuse to admit vulnerability, but that won’t make me not vulnerable.  There is nothing that can do that, not even covering myself up with layers and layers of the armor we all use to get through the day and pretending away the ugly things and the hard parts of my history and everyone else’s.  This isn’t about complaining.  I’m just stating facts that are, yes, relevant to who I am, why I participate in feminism and the greater movement toward social justice, why and how and what I write and contribute.  Pretending it isn’t so forces me into a strange and inhuman position where we just posture at each other.  You’re not vulnerable, I’m not vulnerable, let’s have an abstract debate about theories, and hey, justify your feelings, and hey, little lady, the grownups are talking and why are you so upset and come back, we were just having a friendly little debate about ideas, and what do you mean this is real life for you?

This didn’t go where I wanted it to, at all. I wish that I was better at writing down my thoughts and ideas, in a way that I feel would make sense to anyone. I will ask for that for Christmas.