KLIK TO EMBIGGEN!

Hey! Did I mention I've got readings coming up? It doesn't look like I'll be doing any this month (which is really just as well -- we're so busy getting ready for Lobby Day -- which it would mean the world to me if you came to -- that I'd rather focus on MTPC this month anyway), but I've got TWO readings in the first week of February.

Tuesday, February 2nd I'll be making my triumphant return to Port Vertias (and Portland in general) with a feature at the North Star Café (225 Congress St., Portland, ME)! I'd like to come spend a couple days in Portland if my budget allows -- anyone have a couch I can crash on for a couple nights? I'll cook you dinner! :)

Then, after a week of not going to Creating Change (*sigh* Someday...), I'll be doing a mini-feature down here:

Sunday, February 8th I'll be part of a really fantastic line-up of writers coming out to support Queer Soup in Boston (details in the flyer above, even if they did misspell my middle name). I haven't decided who my gender icon will be yet -- I kind of want to go with Patti Smith, but I'm afraid someone else will beat me to her, so maybe I'll go with Katharine Hepburn. We'll see. Anyway, Queer Soup are really wonderful folks, and I can vouch for several of the other featured writers as being excellent... and what else were you going to do on a Sunday night, huh?



ALSO! Have I mentioned here I have copies of New Problems for sale? I don't think I have.

They're $11 (more than last time, I know, but this book's 20 pages longer than The Oxygen Catastrophe), and you can buy 'em in person or drop some money in our Paypal (if you want to drop an extra dollar or two for postage, that would be nice, but you don't have to).

Here's a sample, just because:

( Jacob's Story )

Up on Radiosilent.org, I've also got Fashion and This Poem Could Never Be Good Enough

So, I was generally just going to abandon the "Best of the zeroes" music post idea, but since feckalyn asked, here's the 15 I was down to when I said to myself, "Am I really going to cut Sun Kil Moon, The Roots, Modest Mouse and The White Stripes? Right, screw this," and gave up:

Radiohead - Everything In Its Right Place
TV On The Radio - Wolf Like Me
Joanna Newsom - Emily
Amanda Palmer - Ampersand (or possibly Astronaut -- I never could pick between those two)
The Mountain Goats - No Children
The Postal Service - Such Great Heights (or possibly Death Cab For Cutie - The New Year)
PJ Harvey - A Woman A Man Walked By/The Crow Knows Where All The Little Children Go
The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize??
St. Vincent - Now, Now
Of Montreal - The Repudiated Immortals
Erykah Badu - something off New Amerykah (probably Twinkle)
Bjork - Who Is It? (Vitalic Mix)
Regina Spektor - Chemo Limo
Iron and Wine - The Trapeze Swinger

That list isn't in any sort of order, of course, but I suspect The Trapeze Swinger would have taken the top spot. But who knows? Maybe not.

Anyway, that's me (or at least halfway) -- what have you been rocking out to the last ten years?

So, there was a long (long) post looking back at the last decade that I finished, but ended up being unsatisfied with. And then I was going to do a "10 Best of the '00's" music post but my enthusiasm had waned by the time I'd winnowed the list down to 15. So instead, you just get a picture from the large subgenres of "Amanda being adorable", "Gwen being adorable", "Gwen on Amanda's shoulder" and "Gwen trying to be bipedal".

And that's it. So... bye, unpleasant decade! Don't let the door get wedged in any unfortunate orifices on your way out, jerk.

Ugh. Pardon the silence here (and the fact that no one but Amanda is getting presents until at least next week), I've had a sinus infection since last Thursday -- and not one of those "oh here, have some antibiotics" infections, but a viral one where the Nurse Practitioner can't offer anything more than a suggestion that you use a neti pot. Which actually has helped, even though I have yet to use said pot successfully -- the salt water always either pools in my nostril or heads down my throat and half-drowns me. I expect I'll have it figured out not too long after I don't need it anymore. So, It's been a week of monkey pajamas and black tea, though the kitties have been in paradise to have me in bed all day. K. climbs under the sheets and snuggles against me, then Gwen hops obliviously on her head as Cass tries to chomp my toes through the blankets.

As I said in the last post, I'm finally free of the Fenway (more or less) -- I've switched to seeing a trans doctor in Davis Square who I know through MTPC, and who, entirely by coincidence, is also Amanda's doctor. ("Uh... did you come here because you knew I was trans?" Dr. D asked hesitantly at Amanda's first appointment when Amanda mentioned her partner was trans. She actually hadn't.)

It sounds silly, but it makes a huge difference to have a doctor who's trans. You might think that after two years as a patient at an LGBT health clinc whose listed specialties include "transgender health" that I'd have had that experience before -- but if you did you'd be wrong, of course.

For example, there's nothing that bothers me worse -- or gets me misgendered more often -- than my dense, coarse black facial hair. Since I can't afford to get rid of it right now, my routine before I'm comfortable and feel safe going leaving the house or even having guests over is this: hot shower (to soften it up/open my pores), shave, touch up the areas that ignored the razor the first time (sometimes I have to just shave all over again), moisturize, give my face 15-20 minutes to heal and dry, then foundation makeup and powder. It's a big pain in the butt, and I often don't go places and do things because it just isn't worth the trouble.

And when I woke up yesterday I felt so bad I could hardly stand up, much less go through all that just to see the doctor. But if I'd been going all the way across Boston to the Fenway to see someone who isn't trans, I'd probably not have been comfortable doing it bare-faced. But going to Dr. D's clinc -- even to see her cis Nurse Practitioner -- which is only a mile or two away, I was comparatively comfortable just wrapping a scarf around my face a la 90's comic book character Chamber and calling it good. I didn't even feel obligated to keep the scarf on in the waiting room.

So, silly, maybe. But it makes a huge difference walking into a place where trans people aren't just supplicants coming to ask cis people for help (which they can choose to give or not give and no one can say "boo" either way since it's not illegal in MA), but are also actual staff members -- or, in this case, even running the joint. Being shown -- not told, but shown -- that I'm as valuable as any other patient makes me so much less afraid to have the people around me know I'm trans. Having concrete proof that the difference doesn't mean anything makes it clear how the difference really doesn't. Does that make sense?

So, I'm sitting here a bit fuzzy-headed from cold medicine, and I was thinking about doing one of the many end-of-the-year memes that everyone does on LJ in December, and I was about to do this whole long thing about what a difficult, rotten year this has been, going on and on about my cat this and my mother that and all the blah blah blah that I've been venting about this year.

But you know what? No. I'm as tired of that as you probably are. So instead, at the risk of feeling like I'm writing a grant, let's look at what I actually have accomplished in 2009 -- because it's nothing to sneeze at:

* Abandoned the traditional "submit endlessly to literary journals that no one reads except other people trying to get published in literary journals" model for a more grassroots "do readings and sell books" approach to getting my work out there. Seriously, best decision I ever made.

* Actually made money off my art, which I'd always talked about doing -- when I was a teenager I'd defiantly look teachers whose classes I was failing in protest in the eye when they asked me what I was going to be when I grew up and say, "I'm going to be a poet" -- but never actually managed to do before.

* Self-published two books of poetry, doing everything except the actual printing myself (and doing it quite well, if I do say so myself). Half finished with the third, which I think is really going to be amazing.

* Also, the work I'm doing now is probably the best I've ever done (thanks in no small part to toniamato's workshops)

* There's a huge amount of stuff to be proud of that I've accomplished or helped accomplish for and with the MTPC -- the surveys, the Suicide Prevention brochures, Lobby Day 2009, and the Judiciary Committee hearing all stand out in particular.

* And on the subject of the Judiciary Committee hearing, can I just say for anyone who was involved in any way with it that we rocked that thing? I mean seriously, just because the Committee is taking its time to realize that we did an amazing job there doesn't mean that we didn't.

* And just working with the MTPC in general. It's really meant the world to me to be doing something with my days that feels... well, I just love feeling useful. Does that make sense?

* Oh, and getting elected to (and feeling like a useful part of) MTPC's Steering Committee.

* Also? Finally started hormones, and the money to do so was entirely from my own inspiration and initiative.

* Got the heck out of Fenway Health (finally!)

* Managed to get over my paralyzing social anxiety enough to be relatively functional without anti-anxiety meds. For those of you who didn't know me when I could hardly leave the house more than once a week, take my word for it, this is really something.

* Kittens! OK, that's not actually an accomplishment, but yay kittens!

He burst onto the Orange Line at Downtown Crossing, just behind a man dressed as Santa Claus in a cream-colored suit jacket and a Looney Tunes tie.

"Hope you guys have all said your prayers tonight!" he shouted, storming to the end of the train and back, and I held my breath for a moment and waited to see if he was armed. I thought about what a great story my friend from toniamato's writing group who had come to see me read at TranScriptions and who had passed him on her way off the train, would have to tell from now on if she'd just missed being on the train where her friend was shot to death.

But he was just drunk and yelling. A man who had gotten on with him turned to me smirking and said, "You already missed the best part of the show." The shouting man came up to him and pulled out a fifth of whiskey, which the smirking man declined. He started hollering and yammering about how he'd just been asking a Hatian cabbie what time it was and how the guy had said to him, "Youse t'ink I'm less American'n you?" and how he shoulda stuck a knife in that motherfucker, and then punching the wall above a terrified passenger's head. He seemed like he was punching the memory of the cab driver, and the wall just happened to be in the way. No hard feelings.

He turned to me. I put my head down and tried to disappear behind the brim of my cap. "Ain't that right, miss?"

"Sure," I murmured, not looking up.

He paused for a the first time and it was like the whole world had gone quiet. "Miss, no hard feelin's, buttayoo a man or a girl?"

"Girl," I whispered. I wanted the train to pull into his station. I wanted the train to pull into my station. (But definitely not both of those things at once.) I breathed in and held it. I put my head down low, wishing I could disappear.

"Oh, awright, ya just... ya sound like a dude," he said -- no malice in his voice, just matter of fact. No hard feelings. Then, falling back into his groove, he turned and shouted to his captive audience, "But what the hell, right? What the hell, it's 2009! IT'S 2009, AN' I'M FEELIN' FINE!"

"Almost the end of 2009," the smirking man (who'd obviously had a few himself -- half the fun of being a drunk is still being able to condescend to worse drunks) said, obviously thrilled with the show.

"Tha's right! That's right!" the shouting man said. "Yeah, it's 2009 an' the end 'a days a' almost hee-ah..." And he turned to talk apocalypse to Santa Claus and didn't look my way again.

I'm not ashamed to be trans, and I don't regret that I am trans. Like crossing any nonsensical social taboo, it can be a pain in the tuchus, of course, but in a lot of ways I like being trans, and wouldn't necessarily choose to be cis if the option presented itself.

But I'm tired of having the very first thing -- and in many cases the only thing -- anyone knows about me be that I'm trans. Just once, I'd like the social benefits and the respect of passing for cis. Of being invisible. I just want to be treated as normal, even for a day.

...that was right up there with peace in the Middle East on the list of things I'd like but didn't expect within my lifetime. I mean, as you can tell from K.'s expression she was a teeny bit scandalized, but that Gwen cuddled up to her for 20 minutes and there aren't bits of shredded kitten all across the apartment? That's progress right there!

This is me today:


(linky)

I am exhausted and have decided to be completely lazy and irresponsible for the day instead of hopping straight into the pile of MTPC work I've fallen behind on in the last couple of crazy book-focused weeks. (Gunner's out of town anyway, so it's not like anything I do today would get looked at until later in the week anyway.)

Don't get me wrong, though I originally fell into it more or less by accident, I kind of enjoy self-publishing. I love the creative freedom, and I love, love, love designing and creating and making everything myself. Not just because I'm a total control freak (though I am), but because I really love, for instance, sitting in front of Photoshop for a few hours putting together an attractive cover (even if I have to do it multiple times) or searching around the internets for a nice (cheap or free) font to set the book in. I love knowing that the final product is, a to z, all mine. I mean, I'm not fantastic at the marketing part, but otherwise I probably enjoy putting things out on "Radiosilent Press" (my new imaginary small publisher) much more than I would just sending someone my manuscript to make into a book themselves.

But wow is it a lot of work for not much money! I don't think I've had a week this stressful since the week leading up to the Judiciary Committee hearing for the trans rights bill back in July. After staring at Word and Photoshop from the time I get up until 2 AM or later every day, I'm a little tired of the book, to be honest -- but, of course, now I have to get un-tired of it so I can sell the darn thing!

Still, it beats the heck out of writing cover letters and sending manuscripts all day, don't it?

Did you know I'm featuring at TranScriptions this Thursday? Neither did I until Friday!

But it turns out I am, so you all should come be my shills and applaud and stuff. Barring a miracle I won't have copies of New Problems to sell yet, but I have a few Oxygen Catastrophes left.

It's December 10th, from 7:15-10 at Spontaneous Celebrations, 55 Danforth St. in JP (which is right next to the Stony Brook T stop on the Orange Line).

(*)

Also! Despite early pessimistic estimates as to New Problems's landing date (for those of you who saw the Facebook status update), I'll be placing an order for the first printing this afternoon thanks to a gracious advance on my reading fee which a member of the TranScriptions crew brought all the way up from Dedham this afternoon. So I should hopefully have copies to sell in person by early next week!

(*)

You know what's exciting? Realizing at the literal last moment possible that you need to completely redo the cover. Bizarro Rachel am so happy to realize her brilliance in not using low-resolution image on book cover! Hopefully, though, that's the last fire to put out and the book is finally done.

This book's been a little more emotionally taxing than I expected it to be. It's not all pre-transition poems like The Oxygen Catastrophe, but I'd guess as much as half of the work is from before 2007. I think I made good use of it -- the book has is loosely about living in the past and inability to adapt -- and the poems are good and I'm glad I found a good use for them. But I'm also glad that I've now used 80% of the pre-transition poems that I'd actually want to, because it's always surprisingly difficult to step back into that unhappy time. I'm relieved to put that part of my life to rest.

(*)

A little sample of New Problems:

This Poem Could Never Be Good Enough

This poem is a pool of
clear water crowded with shells, this
poem is writing itself as it is written

by me. This poem came
down from G-d, and is beautiful
simply for that, this poem

may never consider that
enough. This poem may
move through the world convinced

that it needs to be a poem
by Robert Creeley or Rae
Armantrout, this poem

wishes it was by Ellyn Maybe.
This poem wishes it could be Ellyn
Maybe. This poem thinks that you

would like it better if you knew
the poet. This poem
may be wrong about that.

Remember the water, and the shells?
This poem doesn't. This poem has tiny fish
schooling inside it, vivid little red-finned

fish weaving among themselves in the blue-
green light filtering through the gaps
in my keyboard. Still

this poem would prefer to be a bird.