Illusion of a Future

I think that life would suddenly seem wonderful to us if we were threatened to die as you say.

“Just think of how many projects, travels, love affairs, studies, it–our life–hides from us, made invisible by our laziness which, certain of a future, delays them incessantly.”

Marcel Proust


Mad Max: Fury Road

I just watched it.


It is a metaphor of my life walking amongst the cis-het war boys every day.

Their absolute insane shit, what with the horrible loud motors, the crazed music, and their orgiastic thirst for the blood of the weak, the meek, the innocent and women…

sometimes when men give me their disdain and hatred it is like how this movie sounded…that mad demon guitarist may as well follow me out in the world and be flailing like a madman while the world around me glories in my humiliation, my shame and policing.

I honestly fucking LOVED the warrior women in this…and the original warrior woman in “The Road Warrior” was my original hero and I was her wanna-be.

I freaking despise those who prattle on about “not all men”…I say that it is all men who will not allow a woman to redeem them.  For it is ours to bring deliverance and redemption to them and their fucking macho bullshit quest to some fantasy boy valhalla…

…and I have had my precious memories shit on…I have had the sacred sheep that ran from the mountains to me at the behest of God been raped and savaged and murdered in the words and thoughts of one who ripped out my very soul and shook it bloody in my face.

No…not all men…any who will be strong enough to be weak and vulnerable and receptive in the moment to the mothers made of living flesh.

No doubt this post is full of pain, of rage…but my heart can take no more violation and rape and pillaging…I can take no more walking free and clear only to be mocked and murdered with every pair of eyes I meet.

Do you see…the job that Mama has in taking this twisty slimy dirty clay and making me into some kind of vessel fit and present in the world for healing?

I am no Furiosa…but perhaps a Capable…who might deliver some poor fool from his foolishness and turn him to the Life.

Very very challenging movie…watching my inner torment come to life on the screen before my eyes.

I Generate Content

Dear Constance…this is not for you, as you are demonstrably here because you enjoy reading.

Reader…this is for you:  I produce the content of Grace Notes for my own sanity and therapeutic mental health.  I write what I want, when I want, and how much I want.

If it is too much for you, then fade away.  Others have before you…and others will after.

For I burn on helium and hydrogen, I am a halogen torch and I am flame and flame…

I cannot not write.  I cannot moderate for some expectation or desire.

So-called friends have given up, gone away.  Well…you can go too…or just get in the boat and ride the rapids.

Besides…the ride will give you the smallest inkling of what it is like to have this flow come OUT of you!!  If you think the navigating is sumfin…imagine the containing and releasing of it.

Hey…Ima keep following hard after Mama…in a dry and thirsty land.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.

In The Darkness Of The Night

in the darkness of the night
the night sublime, silent
the night stark, solitary
in the darkness

I stand outside your house
(in the darkness of the night)
and smell the fragrance wafting
to the stars above inhaling
the darkness
of the night
the smell of baking bread
the smell of your warm bed
I look into the window
and see your lips are moving
while you laugh and you talk
to someone in the light

so I turn up my collar
and turn away in tears
and grab a double handful
of sable velvet lonely

in the darkness of the night

We must protect rights of society’s marginalized | The News Tribune

We all have a responsibility to end sexual assault. Denying transgender people their civil rights is not the way to do that.

Source: We must protect rights of society’s marginalized | The News Tribune

A truly stunning well reasoned defense of my right to be.

Do you know that in most places transgender people are not recognized as who they are unless they have surgery…and at the same time the surgery is classified as “elective” and thus not covered by insurance…AND is also denied unless the person who needs the surgery obtains the permission and affirmation of 2 separate psychiatrists and surgeons?

Can you see that double bind?

“You are not a person unless you are committed enough to have surgeries…but we are gonna make you pay for them with your own money and they cost in the mid to high 5 figures…AND we are gonna make you prove yourself to at least 4 separate people…only then are you allowed to be a real person.

“Oh…and before you can even start this process, or get hormones or anything else, we are gonna require that you live as your claimed gender identity at least 2 years, after which we MIGHT give you hormones…

“What’s that you say? By requiring you to live as your claimed gender while denying you the means by which you can physically fit in we are endangering your life from transphobic transmisogynistic men? Well, you are wrong. WE are not doing that…YOU are…with your damn stupid insistence upon being a person who is differently bodied than you are gendered.”

You see the double bind?

It reminds me of how amateurism was created in sports to try and keep POC out of the leagues, because only the rich and privileged can live and train full time and not need to be paid, because they already have their money.

In the gender area…only the gender-rich and privileged can make the rules that shut us out.

And then we are told that our life matters, that we have worth, etc…just not enough worth to be made whole. Just not enough

another way of saying not enough is


And that is why it is important to let us go peepee like any other human…that is why it is important to speak of us as subjects (you/I/we/she/her) and not objects (it/that/he-she).

“That Is A She”

my home lies
deep in the forest
near the roots
of the mountains

it is a space
from which eternity
pours effortlessly
right alongside sorrow,
longing and giving
and receiving,
that one unity
of space and going

to and from
that receptive deep
opening within
passing from
this world of woe
to a deep place
that’s not a place
but the echo

of my home
deep in the forest
near the roots
of the mountains