Sunday, March 29, 2009

Lipstick personality chart

My lovely one had this years ago on a bad xerox copy...this is an electronic update, but the same inventory.

You probably have seen it before...

I'm a sharp angled tip btw

Poor Southern Trans Boy

In The Sweet In-Between, Oprah Book Club author, Sheri Reynolds, offers us Kenny Lugo, a person who is Kendra to her father, Ken to his schoolmates, and Kenny, at home. The tri-spirited hero is struggling to maintain identity, after many years of exploitative experiences with the whisky faced men of Lugo’s life, Kenny is trying to figure out if she is a boy or a girl.

“I hate my body, I hate.” Kenny says, taking great measure to control her water consumption so he won’t be forced to use the girl’s room at school, where Ken is a freak, a lesbian, a T-country boy who only wants to please.

Oh, and Kenny is haunted.

Not in the literal sense, but metaphorically, for Kenny’s drunken neighbor, Jarvis Stanley, shoots a college girl dead when she and her friend accidently break into the house, mistaking it for the rental across the street. The dead girl’s life haunts Kenny. She can’t help but identify with the dead girl. For her life is slowing dying, and like the dead girl, Kenny will soon belong to no one, for when she turns 18, her father’s girlfriend, Glo, won’t have to be responsible for her anymore. Kenny will be alone.

Everyday Kenny goes to school he pines for the dead girl’s car. Imagines crawling around in her blood, wonders, wonders, wonders. What if?

Kenny must survive because the dead girl didn’t, because Aunt Glo’s oldest is a drug addled walking poster for death, and because who will take care of Daphne, the half retarded sister of the aforementioned drug addled walking poster for death? Kenny exists for Daphne who gives Kenny dimension, and balance. Daphne loves Kenny for who she is, for who he is, for everyone.

Add to the fact Kenny lives in a restrictive, run down rural town in Virginia, and her chances for acceptance are slim. Everyone is trying to define Kenny for her, for him. I'm not a lesbian, I'm not, Kenny thinks as her young adopted brother points out. Others are quick to say she has a lifestyle, which befuddles Ken further.

I don’t know any fiction books about trans men, and the Sweet In-Between sidesteps the issue if Kenny is trans, or just a lesbian cross dresser, not that it matters anyway. Kenny’s self hatred is identifiable for all T-persons regardless of spectrum and depth of gender dysphoria. Ken, and Kenny may be freaks, but when Kenny is forced to play Kendra we become flies on the wall for ego crushing humiliation when Kendra must visit her father up state in prison. Just who really are the freaks? Those who have courage to be who they really are, or the ones who judge and punish anyone who steps out of the gender box?

Kenny’s just finding herself, which is part of the appeal, like a hero on a quest, he must deal with his “titties” and how to bind them, “blood” and how to conceal it in case Ken bleeds through his jeans; rituals created to save the self, to bolster the defenses against a world that isn’t very tolerant of variant behavior. Too bad, too, because Kenny has a lot to offer, as well as Reynolds’ whose luminous prose burns through the paper. A nice companion piece to Luna.

Fireflies. Moon. Darkness.

--note this book is a quick read--unfortunately it was one book I kept putting down and then getting distracted from finishing--thus the delay in the review.

Liam waxes and Luna wanes and poor old Regan must witness, like a far away star that the moon has enticed to supper

Chemistry? Why did it have to be about chemistry? Regan cries in Julie Ann Peters’ young adult drama Luna, Regan whose heart is burdened by her brother, Liam’s, secrets, as Liam transitions into Luna, which threatens to pull the entire family’s life ordinary blah blah suburbia into chaos.

Peters adopts the last tenants of macho suburbia as the blueprint for Liam’s home life: go talk to the coach, son, let’s re-build a Volkswagen, son, date pretty girl, son etc., a blueprint I recognize from the 80s and 90s, and which no doubt persists today, hopefully a little less macho than it once was, I think, for much of that macho-ness is a hand-me down from be-a-man-disease from the 1950s, which slowly erodes away as younger men become fathers. Younger men who hold on to macho-ness a little less tightly, I think. Not Liam’s Dad, though, unfortunately for Liam’s Dad, Liam has discovered the internet, and that he’s transgendered.

Oh, Liam’s known since he pined for a bra when he was twelve. During one of Regan’s slumber party Liam edged his way to the slumber party floor, where his toenails were painted by Regan’s friends and Luna slipped out, just so much. All he wanted was to just do his toes and talk, you know, be a girl. All he has ever wanted. And now older, he has vocabulary, now, he has trans friends, albeit virtual, and they, be their existence, give Luna permission to grow.

First there was Liam, then Lia Marie, the slow moth cocoon of Luna, only a silky nub. As Liam ages the truth of his nature grows, and Liam becomes only a shell as Luna struggles with going out in public, wigs, and coming out to Dad (Mom’s an after thought in this—a shadow of a pill user), and avoiding a black hole of depression.

Peters nails the issue from all sides, the pain, the burden of the secret-keeper, the parent’s self-serving fog, the consciousness enlarging experience of cross dressing—the high of stepping into a new identity. Peters even nails the revulsion stones feel when they encounter a trans person. Trans people are freaks to everyone else, the stones; the clerks quiver, jocks hate, an older man stalks them at Taco Bell. Regan is witness and protector. Secret keeper and soul guardian.

The book is really about Regan and the hazards Luna’s secret wreck upon her life. She’s a loving sister that deserves her own life, only Luna’s life is too big for one person, and Regan is almost swallowed up.

Which is why the novel is so haunting, because you want all this little family to just tune into each other and open up. Dad is too gender blind to see that his son is anything but a regular boy, Mom too career blind to notice. And Liam (and I mean Luna in boy mode) is so freaking eager to be the dutiful daughter it made my stomach ache. Of course no one allows him to partake in these roles, only Regan, who allows Luna into her bedroom at night to do her make-up and play with wigs and pose in the mirror. It’s a beautiful mess, beautiful in the way dying stars are beautiful, because Luna’s emotional scars are palpable.

For trans teens there is no easy solution to the pain. If everyone were more tolerant then Luna would have found herself earlier, perhaps, but this is not the case. The paperback version includes a discussion group for teens and adults, which was a happy find. The very fact this book was a finalist for the National Book Award for Young Adult Fiction is happy news indeed.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Whew...domestic bliss

Thank god.

This week has been like a whip snap mop attack, my nerves stretched thin, my exhaustion complete. Thanks work. Thanks job, I couldn't have done it without you...

Plus, I haven't femulated in sooo long.

(in my mind I'm tapping my fingernails, red, long, self-manicured, along the kitchen counter)

Until tonight.

Interesting behavorial observation:

During the last twelve days (I get to go all out one night a week, and my general, subtle feminine ways are allowable during the rest of the week. Putting it that way sounds bad, but what it really amounts to is baby steps. My wife is allowing this to grow, but prefers an organic, slower process--I'm down. I prefer it quick and fast) perhaps out of conditioning, perhaps from my heart, I have found myself mentally skipping from male dominated energies to female dominated energies at an hourly pace. Most of my life the female urges have been dominated by waves, to borrow the metaphor from Petra but now I find my energies switching more frequently.

It's nice. I will monitor. I will report, report, report.

But I finding myself alone for an extra two hours this afternoon and gasp...went outside to take the trash to the bin, in 5 inch heels, boi jeans and a gyrl tee, allowing my feminine steps to enlarge at the hips and shorten at the knee. It feels natural that way, and cautious too, for I am not gliding in 5 inch heels, 3 yes, in 5 I'm more than competent, but my grace fades at times from lack of experience.

And I have begun the evening with casual attire. Sandals, jeans, cheap Big Lots blouse (bland but serviceable in a variety of outfits), and a 70s orange headband

And after a break a black pencil skirt, pink blouse, hose.

And after and after and after....

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Apartment Therapy New York | Shadow of Freud: The Offices of Psychoanalysts

Apartment Therapy New York | Shadow of Freud: The Offices of Psychoanalysts


I bet there's several books on those shelves about gender fun!

Whew...domestic dervish

A week of stressful work--long hours and tedious meetings--followed by a long week of in-laws has left this sister drained.


When the in-laws are in domestic duties triple. Around here I take care of the kids, the housecleaning and my share of meals, as well as the day to day chores--garbage, litter box, etc.

I don't mind it, I love waiting on my wife. She deserves it. But the in-laws not only increase our number, but the traffic in house as well.

Me wee shoulders are aching...

And on top of that I have not been able to femulate at all--in eleven days, but I'm not counting.

The other day at the store and this cute middle-aged woman was wearing 2 inch sandals and her toes shimmered a deep red...for an hour I couldn't stop thinking about being that shimmery red toenail. If only for a second.

My head was like a balloon--floating above my body which continued to shop for diapers.

I did finish Luna, review forthcoming, and The Sweet In-Between, which is about a female crossdresser, a teen, trying to pass as a boy... Good also forthcoming...

Hope this finds you well...


Saturday, March 14, 2009

Come As You Are

Nirvana broke when little ole me was a freshman in college. I remember wearing hose under my jeans to a party the week Nevermind exploded. If memory serves I humiliated myself by telling my secret to two hot girls who got kicks out of my drunken twin gender ramblings.

Everytime Kurt appeared in a dress it felt right. Nevermind him passing, the fact he allowed his energies and essences to mix was what was important.

Guilty as charged: sexual arousal while dressing

To say that I get aroused while dressed is an understatement.

However 9 times out of 10 my arousal is less sexual and more personality-centered.

Last night, after several glasses of champagne and much senseless Facebooking with old friends, I tottered around in my 3 inch sexy sandals and found myself eager for some sexual action.

My orientation is straight-bisexual. Let me explain. I am attracted to women. I am not attracted to men, however I fantasize about being the love interest of men. Yeah, figure that out.

Oh. I've experimented before, and always it was enjoyable, but I've never been in love with a man. Never. The few flings I've had never lasted longer than the crush, no strings, no attachment. When I'm out and about it's the ladies I'm looking at, for fashion, for sexual pleasure.

When my wife was pregnant with our children she told me to get porn, the playboy channel, read erotica, call a phone sex operator, just don't fuck around. And she closed up shop for 12 months (w/r/t the second child she closed up for 18 months...yes 18 months w/out sex will make anybody whacky). Perhaps it was the booze, but last night I found myself calling a phone sex service, not for fantasy, but just to talk about crossdressing, submission, and the various sexual fantasies I've had over the years. It was fun, but frivolous and stupid. Like I could use that cash back, but it didn't break the bank, and it was as expensive as a shrink session. So be it.

I bring this up not for kinky confession, but to address the issue that crossdessing and transgenderism is sexual. It is erotic and arousing. Sometimes we deny that when we try to intellectualize our experience.

Transgenderism is a wide and wonderful ride.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

President O includes transwoman on White House Council: What it means to you

Like the warm hum of a kitten’s purr, Obama’s invitation of Mara Keisling, a transgendered woman, to the White House Council on Women and Girls tickles the brain, and, like a candle, warms the gloaming.

What does it mean to you, ladies, gents-- those who are deeper than skin, than sex, than gender?

Well it means a step.

Literally it means political inclusion, for O’s gestures give states precedence to make violence and discrimination against trans people illegal. In all states. All communities. For all of us.

Because we are women too.

O is humanizing, moralizing, and exercising our hair, bones, and muscle.

Not that America’s arms open wide and suddenly the wife tells her husband to grow nails and sway like he’s always wanted. Nor does the entrenched family on the porch lean over the railing with a helping hand to their newly discovered “daughter” or “son,” their snarky, straight attitude wavering in the air as if someone had slammed a Bible upon the floor. Not even the sexual fetishists, with their frilly skirts and leather straps, are allowed any more respect from the stones who live among us: the gifted, the wise, the blessed.

But among those whom for capital power is occupation, lifestyle and passion, the transgendered person has arrived.

What does it represent but another minority to champion? A cultural nod to a class of persons who have long lingered in corner shadows?

It is proof of the transgendered head that rises from the freakish Atlantic that asks, that declares, that offers the third choice, the third gender, the third eye, the truth.

We are we are we are

And always will be the mirror by which both sexes see their nature.

So what does it mean, this gesture?

It is one of many to come. On November 10th 2007, O banned LGBT discrimination for his transition team; a term loaded for the trans community, in process or not. True, his invitation of Rev Rick Warren to preach at the inauguration lay like a thorn in the grass for all us dancing about in the clover, but such action reads more like a gesture of compromise to the Republicans than an insult to the LGBT community. I mean please, for those whom the Bible is key and lock I say enjoy your preacher, for only the most liberal of you would have me over for tea and poetry and mean it. Most of you would see me dance upon hot coals.

It’s sadly the truth, and like a bean it can sprout up among the churchyards and brick alters, this fear of the trans community, of us folk, as if we were somehow more freakish that the whole history of their religion.

The gesture is important.

The gesture.

As if O is reaching out a touching us on the shoulder to say: you’re real, you’re the truth, you’re alive.

See these links for more.

Pam's Diary

Monday, March 9, 2009

Act Like a Lady, Think Like A Man

In the African American culture crossdressing (not drag) is mainstream comedy. Ask Medea, whose foul mouth character is really Tyler Perry, who has turned DIY theatre into a multi-million dollar business (300+ to date...and to think his plays began in high school auditoriums and small theatres...he wrote, directed and starred as the main character, a foul mouthed large black woman), ask Eddie Murphy, ask Big Momma, ask the Waynan Brothers...

Though Steve Harvey's new book is written for women it asks women to break traditional gender roles and think like men.

Which as every crossdresser and gender variant knows is what occurs on a daily basis inside our rattled little skulls.

One can almost here the high heels kicking down my ears at times...

Though Harvey's book isn't about gender variant behavior, it does push forward a out of the box cognitive approach to solving relationship problems, something rather progressive in a culture dominated by masculine roles.

Note: I have only skimmed the book...I'm not looking to land a man

Friday, March 6, 2009

Virtual Va-jay-jay

Editorial note: Trying out an edgier tone with this one...


Like a tongue over a seam

my skin folds and pussy opens

in the ache between

cock and hole

how skin hurts because skin

isn’t doing what it’s told

how brain and mind illuminate,

like a paper lantern,

the curvy form and mold

that is passed by

like a firefly

like a sailor drunk at port;

how like a novel trick

completion is forgotten

like barroom pack of matches

fighting for oxygen

at the bottom of the junk drawer.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Pleases Me Much

Sculpt. Shape. Carve. Dress. Paint.

Pleases me, it does, to mold into an image
That defies slump and wrinkle,
As if an old man who after 65 years didn’t have the courage
Or confidence to speak his mind
Finally got up from the kitchen table and told his wife
He wanted to quit his job and be a sculptor.

Pleases me it does to sober the frame into something challenging,
The curve of the back sure,
Legs attached to feet
Which balance and flirt in high heels.

This invention pleases me much,
As any whimsical touch
Be it a brush,
Or the feel of a woman’s suck,
Or a delicate wine and steak high
Or echoing starry trumpet notes of children running round.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Currently reading....


Regan's brother Liam can't stand the person he is during the day. Like the moon from whom Liam has chosen his female namesake, his true self, Luna, only reveals herself at night. In the secrecy of his basement bedroom Liam transforms himself into the beautiful girl he longs to be, with help from his sister's clothes and makeup. Now, everything is about to change-Luna is preparing to emerge from her cocoon. But are Liam's family and friends ready to welcome Luna into their lives? Compelling and provocative, this is an unforgettable novel about a transgender teen's struggle for self-identity and acceptance.

Finalist for the 2004 National Book Award for Young People's Literature

One of my many hats includes reviewing books for a variety of literary journals and magazines. One of my regular editors had some old review copies she sent me and among them was this...The cover caught my eye and to my surprise it concerned a TG teen. So far it's great. Luminous (excuse the pun. I can relate to the main character to a point, particularly when it comes to the descriptions of gender dysphoria. Though transition is not an option for me, those who have decided to transition would probably enjoy it.

Full review to come!

Note: the author writes GLBT fiction for young adults. But adults will find much to admire here.