Poppy Z. Brite's Blog, page 54

Trapped in The Head of The Bourka Bee Goddess

I'm blogging from Grey's for the first time. I don't know if that has any real significance, but, well, here I am. I came over last night and crept into the warmth of his bed (which is in a tent draped with many colors and textures of fabric, affording a nice Arabian Nights feel) and we watched CSI (I like the one with Ted Danson) and fucked and ate pizza and then I slept hard, hard, hard. Had my usual nightmare of being back in school. This time I had to share a desk with the meanest girl from my (real life) junior high, who wanted to know all about this fascinating transition I was going through.

Worried about everything.

Unable to get in touch with Chris at all, unless we run into each other at home -- his phone broke and he hasn't gotten a new one yet, or hasn't let me know about it at any rate. I expect he will, but there was also the little problem of our bank account suddenly going into the negative because of a huge unexpected car insurance autodraft that came through, so he may not have been able to purchase one yet. It feels so weird to be out of touch with him, as if we are now living in totally separate worlds. (I could call the restaurant when I know he'll be there, but I never do that unless it's an emergency, as they are so busy.)

Worried about everything. Did I mention that already? Worried and scared. Where will we all be this time next year?

eBay & Conversation

New eBay auctions up. Chapbooks Liquor for Christmas and The H.O.G. Syndrome, hardcovers Plastic Jesus, The Value of X, and Antediluvian Tales, and, since the last one did so well, another deluxe tenth-anniversary edition of Lost Souls. Thanks again, y'all.

Chris and I talked. We still love each other. Nothing has been decided. Everyone's heart is broken. Not much more to say on this subject. I will say, because it's not terribly personal to the subject at hand and Chris doesn't mind being part of a Teaching Moment™, that I was appalled when he, a cisgender male, expressed his belief that having been with me for so long somehow negated or lessened his cis privilege. I was able to explain why it doesn't work that way, but I was also surprised that someone so close to me believed in the myth that knowing, dating, or even marrying a trans person conveys some sort of magical honorary transness. It doesn't. It probably makes you a hell of a lot better ally, and that's great, but it doesn't change one iota of how much your life is eased by your own body/gender match.

Return

Well, shit. I don't know. Chris came home last night or sometime early this morning. I opened my eyes and he was standing over me. The cats had pushed me over onto his side of the bed.

"Oh, hi," I mumbled, rolling back to my side. "I thought you moved out."

He said something about having had a bad couple of days and maybe his phone breaking, but I've been using Xanax to sleep and I was already three-quarters under again. He's still asleep, so we haven't talked any more yet. I don't want him to leave; it feels comfortable and right that he should be here, but I don't want to make him miserable either. I feel there is nothing constant in my life at the moment, but I probably don't have the right to expect that there should be, since I have deliberately set so many huge changes in motion.

Current round of eBay auctions ending this evening, and I'll be putting up new ones. As ever, all items are signed and can be personalized. These auctions are pretty much keeping me afloat right now, so please look and bid if you can.

Library Book

I sit cross-legged on my bed. So proud of the new, dark hair on my upper legs and belly. Is it my bed, now, just mine? It's weird not being sure whether someone lives with you anymore. The window is open and I hear rain on metal, steady and soothing. It's warm, so there are only four cats on the bed. I've actually gotten a lot done the last couple of days, because sometimes it's easier to be busy. And/or tired.

I'm the champion of long naps. It feels good to stop thinking.

Here's a weird neurosis I didn't know I had. Last week I took my mother to the main (downtown) branch of the library. While there, I checked out a book about the moai of Easter Island. I started reading it, and it was very interesting, but having the actual book in my possession nagged at me because I didn't own it. I wasn't afraid of the Library Police; I didn't think a guy was going to sodomize me in the bushes while forcing red licorice down my throat. (And, depending on the guy, I mightn't be averse to that.) It's just that I've had these recurring dreams, for years and years now but a whole lot of them lately: having to go back and finish high school again for some ungodly reason, not being able to show up for the classes or do any of the work, but sometimes I check out books from the school library, and then I get dream panic attacks wondering when I'm going to bring them back since I never come to school. I used to check out library books all the time, right up until 1995-2005 when we lived in Broadmoor and the Rosa Keller branch was just around the corner. But as I say, I've been having these dreams a lot lately, pretty much whenever I don't take Xanax before bedtime, and they give me nasty cold sweats from the apocrine glands, and I wake up feeling like a half-drowned mink, and having the damn library book just made me too nervous, so I returned it without having read more than fifteen or twenty pages.

That's the same library branch where Ignatius Reilly worked. The Loyola Avenue one, I mean, not the Rosa Keller (which I hear is reopening with a coffee shop soon). His tenure was brief because, although hired to paste slips into books, he could sometimes only post one or two slips a day and still be satisfied with the integrity, taste, and decency of his work. So maybe I'm still doing better than some.

Chasm

Well. It looks as if twenty-two years of history may have ended via text messages on Thursday night. Me and Chris. Me. Chris. No more "and" between our names. How weird is that?

As Chris said, "It's like breaking up with your own lungs or liver." And yeah, I haven't been able to breathe right since then.

I feel like I can't talk about it here, because I'm hurt but have no interest in making him the bad guy. Anyway, I don't really understand what's going on. As far as I can tell, it has more to do with my failure to embrace his restaurant/crew/fans than it does with my transitioning or dating Grey, but ... well, I just don't really know for sure. I readily admit I am a crappy person, but crappy people get lonely too.

Chemical buffers are a blessing at times like these.

Here's my Song of the Now again.

ebay Stuff

Thank you so much for the generous bids on that last round of eBay auctions. I've got a new round up now. Two nice hardcovers from Gauntlet Press: the Lost Souls deluxe tenth anniversary edition with lots of extra material and ephemera, and the limited edition of The Lazarus Heart. Three chapbooks: The Feast of St. Rosalie, The Seed of Lost Souls, and Con Party at Hotel California. There are also some French copies of Liquor and Prime still available.

Stuff

eBay signed book auctions ending this evening. The cats need food and litter, I need testosterone, and the mortgage, water, and electric companies (not to mention AT&T) keep insisting that they need money too, so please take a look and bid if you can/want to.

I'm drinking coffee for the first time in months just because I wanted something hot (the central heat is also broken). It is an Irish cream latte. I wanted a peppermint latte, for the season, but the coffeeshop Chris went to didn't have them. I used to drink my coffee black, but my stomach doesn't like that anymore. I'm also facing retirement as the Bong Hitting Champion of the World. (Of course, I would still play as a serious amateur.) My body keeps aging even as my mind and libido feel more and more 14.

I Am Thankful

For the wonderful machine that has reconnected me with music, kept me in contact with the world, and supplemented/occasionally acted as my brain for the past few years.

eBay Stuff

Old auctions getting ready to end, and new ones up: Crown of Thorns and The Seed of Lost Souls chapbooks, first edition of Caitlín's and my Wrong Things, first edition of The Value of X, and a sweet first edition of Drawing Blood with my original ink sketch (opposite title page) of the kudzu-covered house featured in the story. I also found some French copies of Alcool and La Belle Rouge (Liquor and Prime) and put them up in the store. It's never too early to start your holiday shopping!

Big Steve

I've been meaning to write about last Saturday night, but I find that I cannot adequately put it into words, other than to report that no, we did not get to meet face to face, and I managed not to cry, pee, faint, or throw HUGE SCARY GRANNY PANTIES on the stage. So I'll just post these wonderful pictures (all copyright 2011 by Grey Cross).



















Also, eBay auctions ending this evening. More going up soon, possibly today. Please check them out if you can!