Queer You Go!

What should one make of this queer coming together of events:

A friend on facebook put forward this revelation:

Maysara:

i have this to put forward: i often feel jealous of 'queers', i think they belong to the future and that they simply possess something or experience something that i don't. not that i personally believe in sexual identity at all. i have freed myself from self-identification altogether. Yet i am always curious to experience or internalize about anything that is not yet incorporated with my repertoire of life experience, especially if it is something that i generally feel positive about. I used to decorate my face with eyeliners and eyeshadow makeup when i was young, around the time i was in high school and university. i both liked my appearance and the way i felt toward myself when i did this. i did not mind that this was challenging to my self-image as a man, perhaps because at the time i had no self-image at all and i had nothing to lose. also our ancient grandfathers used to do exactly the same thing and i was aware of that, i was actually proud that i was reviving a tradition that ancient men used to do. men in so many different cultures around the world decorate themselves and in some cases in Africa men do it more than women. Anyways i did not mind all of this and the whole thing felt natural to me to the extent that once i forgot all about it and unintentionally went down to the grocery shop, in Cairo, to buy some eggs while i had my eyes all rounded up in black, purple, and pink! I also wore a "Zannoba" flipflop that day which is generally considered to be a feminine thing to wear in the streets. they stared at me in shock at the grocery, and i laughed about it later! Just a funny story, which only make me wonder "why" did i stop beautifying my face the way i liked? the pressure in the streets definitely had something to do with it. Sometimes i wonder and say: perhaps if i had the freedom to keep doing it, and saw that others were equally free to do it in the society, i would have eventually developed sexually in directions other than those which led to my sexual experience and self-realisation thus far. While i am totally aware that self-beautification is not conditionally related to queerness, nor is it really contradictory with heterosexuality or manliness as i understand it in the first place, and although right now i have become 30 years old and think certain things can no longer be changed or reversed in my sexuality, with which i am also generally satisfied, especially that, although i am fearless, i have not the energy, nor any particular urge toward sexual exploration, yet in the end, the most realisation i have from this facebook status that has grown too large and might become a facebook note(!) is the conditional relationship between social freedoms, and the development of individual identity. And here, we're not just talking about, say, one's political orientation or opinions about one's own career or any of this bullshit, we're talking about the development of sexual identity or/and practice; something that grows permanently deep in one's body, mind, and soul. We all know that it is something that you cannot really develop entirely independently, but only in some social context and environment or another, yet it seems that while most adults eventually accept that their children should be allowed to choose for themselves what profession or career they wish to pursue, which is something that is entirely changeable in the future and all in all seems just bullshit to me, we are yet unable to consent and provide the same degree of freedom regarding the development of our children's very sexual identities, practices, and experiences. And then we wonder, why is it that on top of all the misery in which we live, we can't even have orgasms the way we read they should feel!! How the fuck have we become more decadent than other mammals? The answer is simple: mammals, all mammals except Humans, want their newborn to survive physically and be in good health, they don't care about how and who they will fuck later on when they grow up and whether they will be like their parents! This is always for the evolving self to decide, in total and complete freedom, without pressures, without references, without limitations, without any goal or purpose, other than the pure, deep, and self-propagating pleasure and happiness of the living organism. There, and only thereby, will you get your orgasm!!

Browsing through some other facebook entries I came upon these instances of switched-dresses 

Portraits of Men Wearing their Girlfriends' Clothes



And there is yet another link along the same lines...
Switcheroo

And then a bit later, yet another link pops up, and if you ever had the question, What Does Pin-up Photography Look Like With Male Models? you need not wonder any more.

Maysara's account was the most touching to me personally because I felt the truth of his words. The other day I met a guy with painted toenails. I made immediate assumptions about his sexuality.

Only today did I also remember how I found nailpolish in a guy's apartment and was really surprised that he said it was his, rather than a girl friends'. Also I know that when his girlfriend left pajamas at his place he tried them on ;)

awake, again... and all that really matters..

It isn't easy to find that comforting thought at night that helps you put on the covers, somewhat like scene of a movie that wraps it all up, makes everything okay. Sometimes every night can be a question that is still vibrating, still unanswered, keeping you awake and occasionally google-bound.

a random search for  "all that really matters in the end..." reveals:

All that really matters in the end is that you loved. (Facebook) 

All that really matters in the end is whether we loved Jesus so much that we fed his sheep and cared for His lambs. (Guardians of Hope Foundation)

As long as there is no intentional harm, all that really matters in the end is the results. The ends do justify the means, as long as the means are not mean. (The Dating Black Book)  

Sometimes, that's all that really matters in the end is how much a game and pull and absorb you into it. (Awakening, Game FAQ)

All that really matters in the end is the legend that grows up around him." "He became someone else. Then again, he always was. (Velvet Goldmine quotes)

All that really matters in the end is that you were brave enough to search on the inside to find the people, experiences and life that you did on the outside (The Shortcut to Nowhere, article on Elite Daily). 

    

late night thoughts...

...make the best scribbles.

I cross my feet sometimes while standing as I'm brushing my teeth. My right foot on top of the other. I am able to appreciate this as a sign of 'myself-ness,' as something that I and only I typically do. I wonder if my child will do that. I wonder perhaps if my child would do that if they never saw me do it. I wonder perhaps if I will have a child.

I think I would want to, and I think I would want the father to know, and to love these things about me, and to look for them in his child as I would, if their feet cross when they brush their teeth. I would want them to want that their child too rest one foot on the other leg, almost yoga-style in tree position, as they wash dishes. 

But mostly, I realise now, that I want to be this me: the one whose right foot is on her left foot while she brushes her teeth, whose right foot leans on her left knee while she washes dishes - not good, not bad, but just me.

Timothy-Joseph

One could stay through all of autumn
and shed not a single dry leaf.
Thank you, for all the world's willows,
for the many that weep for him.

Goodbye Timothy-Joseph. May you rest in peace. x

Talking with the enemy

Ever since I grew my curls
I miss you less.

Give in to the night.

Give in to the night,
That thing called sleep.

But it seems the day is unfinished, and sleep cannot be so easily earned.

Been thinking lately how abstaining from talking may help writing, venting the inner conversation about things that need not be discussed, but simply transferred to paper (or blog), and developed further. 

So lately I've been really touchy about the issue of 'appreciation,' about 'how much I have done for so-and-so' and how ungrateful they have been.

And it made me think about C, and how he seemed to run from all my 'help,' because it probably did come with strings attached, even if those strings attached no particular end, but only a particular person - me. Stay close to ME, they'd say, tying him in a web of an intimacy sought through favours that could not be returned, and should not be returned.

And it also made me realise that for a very long time, I may have been seeking to sell favours, for something unspoken in return. Sometimes I say I Joyful Girl, but other times I'm not so Ani diFranco about it. Hell even Ani diFranco isn't so selfless about it, if she needs to remind herself.

And sometimes I resent it so much, this sense that because of all this unsolicited giving, I've been taken for granted. Or worse that people see it, and don't want it anymore, favours that don't come for a named price, that make them feel weighed and sentenced to you on indefinite terms.

Fuck them.

I hate this children's-book mental image of the world, where it echoes back whatever you send forth.

"Fuck you, world!"

"Well, fuck you too, child!"

It's so hard to say the opposite when you're having one of those moments with the world.

"You're pissing me off right now, world, but it's not you, it's me. And someday soon, I will see you are all beautiful... It kind of evades me now."

Sounds like a break up.


Strangely at the same time there have been contemplations on commitment - on marriage and lowering expectations. And it makes an awful lot of sense that people are going to change and hate each other's guts, and what endures is something else than the passion which seems to be the only thing people associate with love these days. (These days, as if I had had incarnations of marital experience).



Well, Feck It. :P

Probably my most poorly constructed post ever, but Feck It too. 

I Give In To Reading Which Gives In To The Night.

And so it is

Thank you, Rachel.

If not a book, at least this blog is revived thanks to you.

And there it is again, the fear of revealing too much, the fear of being too honest while looking at a mirror for fear that what I may see would be too ugly. It's the inner venom - funny enough, C.K. used that word too to describe my spewing. Maybe it hurt because it was so right.

This is going to come out like a journal, and maybe you were hoping for more creative work.

Well, too bad, innit? ;)

So I've been feeling bummed, and since that's all I care to think about I'll just write about that till I bore myself.

And just then, I see this, so pretty - a reversible fabric bag I bought at the FleaMarket in Germany, handcrafted by someone and for EURO 5 but worth so much more... happiness and a smile for brightening an otherwise glum moment.

I leave you with this:

May we create and enjoy such prettiness, all the time :)