12/25: "You're just not my keg of beer!"

-To set the stage briefly--I spent this Christmas with my little bro and my mom, my first without Dad (the divorce papers got signed on Monday) and my older bro (the East Bay has claimed him.) Because Pops is no longer embodying Santa, and because my mom is both too modest and too broke to fill her own stocking, Santa-for-Mom duty fell on me this year. It's one thing to give a gift, but, I learned, another entirely to fill someone's stocking and write a note in elaborate curlicue handwriting, especially when the someone has been doing the same for you without an expectation of the same in return for 22 years. Who knew the Magic of Christmas ACTUALLY EXISTED?

-I got some yarn, and I'm making a huge Norski-style stocking cap that says "(Isherwood/Auden protege and current favorite poetical read) THOM GUNN IS NUMBER ONE" on it and has little men holding hands with little hearts around them.

12/23: "No, YOU be Rosemary Clooney!"

-I spent about half an hour watching Human Rights Campaign news reports with my boss and making fun of how all the reporters had severe underbites. This job rulez.

-I'm going out for soul food with the Bartons. I plan to flame like a roman candle and make them glad again that I used to date their son.

12/21: "We'll do what we can."

-After a total non-day of sleeping and grumping around, Lucas and I hit the Barmuda Triangle for some happy hour action. Ninkasi Believer pints at Jameson's for $2.75? Almost makes up for the shitty atmosphere, which resembles the set of a bad Christmas movie, where the characters are alcoholics and hang out in this weirdly lit bar with green and red lights, but also bad paintings of aliens and skulls. Their special was something called a "dirty girl scout", which I imagine involves creme de menthe and olive juice. Also, one of the bartenders at the Horsehead is basically like if David Crosby filled his mouth with dried apples.

-Post barring, I finished Billy Budd, which was kind of chilling and made me feel connected to queens of yore, but also didn't hit me as hard as it could have maybe, Ninkasied as I was.

12/20: "The intersection of 'faggoty' and 'hip' is usually...Patrick?"

-I ditched the annual Christmas Caroling party thrown by one of my oldest family friends because I wasn't in the mood to explain the Russ deal and/or be with older hippies, so I stayed home. This involved:

--Drinking an Iron Butterfly (I'm looking at you, Jon Schill.)

--Figuring out an ass-rocking version of "Dirty Old Town" on mandolin and harmonica.

--Going over to Jame's for hot buttered rum and dancing to Kylie Minogue. How much better can things get?

12/17: "Pissing in Peace"

-So much has happened (in that not much of interest has happened) since I came home. Since I'm at work right now, I think I might just write various things, and not necessarily good things; just an update, likes.

--My laptop became infected a few days ago, though apparently my bro's girlfriend is an IT genius, so I may have to get on the phone to my own private Dehli.

--Speaking of Gus Van Sant references, I saw "Milk" last night with my mom. Of course, it was fab, the kind of thing that makes me proud to be a gay man. My main beef with the film was the alleged "love scene" that people seemed to be so up in arms about. Out-of-focus Sean Penn's back and James Franco looking really uncomfortable? You call that steamy? My only solace was a poorly-lit Diego Luna ass slap. Anyway, I never thought any film character so a) reptilian and so b) martyred could be so weirdly attractive. Not since Beaver Trilogy has ol' Pennywhistle scaled such theatrical heights.

--I've been volunteering at the Community Alliance of Lane County, which essentially boils down to hanging out with old lesbians and calling the city manager's office, demanding an emergency shelter for homeless families (because it's been fawking cold around here and people have literally been freezing to death in the streets) and getting nothing. Barf.

--I ate some fucking amazing fish and chips tonight.

Hopefully now, and once my laptop is lapping up my top again, these updates will be significantly more frequent and hopefully more hilarious.

12/4: "Garden Meat"

-I gave an interview to a pretty cool kid today. She told me about collecting insects, and how she got really excited when she found a flea.

-I'm reading Seamus Deane's Reading in the Dark for Annabel's class (and enjoying it more than I should, considering I have so much else to do. It's (big fucking surprise based on his debilitatingly Irish name and the distressed photo of sad children on the cover) a semi-autobiographical novel about growing up poor and Catholic in Northern Ireland in the 40's and 50's. Being of easily-inflamed Irish Catholic descent, you may imagine how into this I'm getting. And it turns out that UNCLE EDDIE WASN'T REALLY AN INFORMER; HE WAS SET UP BY GRANDFATHER!!! AND DA DOESN'T KNOW!!!!!!!!1!

12/3: "I could like, study Latin and shit."

-I read a lot about the Council of Trent, which, in my sleep-deprived state, I kept imagining as a conference table of Trent Pollards with all of their giggling bellies and scruffy beards and ridiculous barbed wire tattoos.

12/2: "I had to clean it off myself!"

-This has been a pretty shit day, except:

--There were fries for lunch.

--I read about early Christians and how much they hated marriage, and then proceeded to talk about the supposed mystical powers of the virgin with B. Pietras.

--Annabel didn't mind that I turned a paper in a few hours late, and pitied me kindly because I have a raging migraine.*


*This one is projected.

11/28: "Faaaan-ceeeee!"

-I've been home with Mags for Thanksgiving in the Bahston Metro Area, which has been too much fun (and too much awkward time with the Duffies. We went out Bah-hahpping, first to Not Your Average Joe's in Acton, which is kind of like if Yuppies took over TGI Friday's in a violent coup, and then to the Rosebud Diner in Somerville. The Rosebud, a little boxcar diner oft-favorited in local magazines, apparently, had the Disney Channel on, but I realized soon that there are few things I'd rather do than watch Hannah Montana while bathed in the neon pink glow of diner signs with an overpriced soco in my mitt.

11/24: "That's not what you want to hear from a scientist."

-Yoko bought pizza for the ceramics studio around 10:00, which was amazing. The thing is, I ran out of clay around 9 and didn't have any other work with me, so I just went up to men.nem.op and read an amazing old copy of A Streetcar Named Desire, which I have never actually read or seen before in full. Surprisingly affecting. I think I'm going to start calling people "Tiger."

11/20: "'Happy Feet' is a terrible, terrible movie."

-I took a nap in Audrey's bed this afternoon, and dreamed about living in Welling again.

-Also, I know this isn't part of the "best thing" spirit of the blog, but maybe it is: I had a lot of good cries today. My amount of crazy shit going on in my life meter is definitely in the red zone, and on top of that, today is the Transgender Day of Rememberance, where we trannies look back and think about all the transpeople (largely transwomen of color) who have been killed in hate crimes over the past year, and think about how fine a choice it is to go ahead with transitioning even though it makes you 12 times more likely to be murdered. Holy hell, right? But I've been crying a lot, which is arguably better than being an unfeeling robot.

11/19: "Or what if you just shattered the gun on the edge of the table and STABBED them with it?"

Plenty of good things have gone on in the past month, but I'm not even going to attempt to catalogue them all. But here are some extra-special things that happened today:

-Chicken tenders, my secret weakness, made an appearance in the dining hall. I ate six, and I'm not even kidding.

-At registration, everything fell into place, which gave me hope after a term of mediocre classes and even more mediocre performances in said classes (today Carol Pal pointed a witchy finger at me and yelled "M.I.A.!", which really attests to her being fantastic more than anything.)

-I went to my trans therapist lady, and it looks like she might be coming around to writing me a perscription for man-juice sooner rather than later. I think it's because I told her that I would be thrilled to have a receeding hairline, which is actually true, oddly enough. Also, Hannah Torkelson was in the van when I got a ride back, so I got to blather with her about senior reviews instead of having my weekly awkward post-therapy chat with Bill the Van Driver (I think he thinks I go for physical therapy for my ankle; he keeps saying things like, "So, can you kick a field goal yet? Har har!" I usually say, "Looks like I'm benched for the season.")

-I spent all evening being more of a geek than usual about internet testosterone research instead of writing my M.I.A. paper for Ms. Pal (it's actually about Martin Guerre, not M.I.A.)

-Nedjo demanded via facebook that I start blogging again. I didn't even think he remembered who I was, not to mention that he read this old thing. These days I smoke alone in front of VAPA, and I miss your monotone complaints about the stupid bitches in your playwriting class, old friend. Hats off!

Now perhaps I'll think about that paper.

10/28: "Pronounced limp; 'L-I-M-P', pronounced, 'limp.'"

-I made a really fun pair of mugs that read: "I remember when your meth use still seemed romantic;" and "Baby, can't we have those times back again?" I've started realizing that it's okay to make the art I actually want. Similarly, I saw the opening of a really fun show at USDAN. It made me want to be a punk again.

10/21: "At least I wasn't drunk!"

-Jake took me down to the Police Station in his truck to retrieve my wrecked bike, which the cops had taken as evidence. As we were leaving, the cop yelled, "Next time, wear a helmet! And get a light for your bike! And wear light clothing!" I really wanted to respond with the title of this post, but I didn't feel that cocky. Then Jake and I went to the beverage den and got some nice beers, deciding it was the adult equivalent of going to the ice cream parlor after you get your tonsils out.

10/20: "I understand; you're a cop."

-I was riding my bike down Prospect Street like a good girl (proverbially speaking), and, diverting my attention from the road to return Jackson's good-natured wave, got plowed down by a rather dirty man in a big red truck. My bike got pretty mangled up, but I escaped with a bruised knee and a badly sprained ankle. While waiting for the ambulance, the driver nervously lit up a cigarette, and I made him give it to me, which seemed to lighten everyone's mood and ensure the witnesses that I was still alive enough to harm myself intentionally. The cop made me stub it out, though, once he showed up.

-At the hospital, an aging male nurse and I had the following conversation: 

"Since you're a lady, you probably would't appreciate my saying that you look like Harry Potter."

"Not at all--that's kind of the look I'm going for."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you had a wand in those blankets there."

"[Honey,] If I had a wand, this [indicating my leg] shit wouldn't be going on."

[The RN chuckles]

Later, he referred to me as "Harriet Potter."

-I am super-psyched to be not concussed or fucked up any worse than I am.  I realized how wonderful it was that I happened to be riding an old racing bike, the type of bike which is basically designed to crash well. In celebration,

-I keep realizing awesome things that happened: when I got home, I watched a DVD of Danny Brylow on Teen Jeopardy circa 2000. My little heart was warmed, especially when Danny told Alex he wanted to be "a theologian," and proceeded to win $7000.

10/15: "He died thinking that he found India!"

-I was putting up flyers for this show I'm going to play in Fels, and I was spirited away to the beverage den by Mags and Tyler and Jesse Russell. When Mags and Tyler approached the counter with their purchases, the lady said, "So, ya like beer?"

10/14: "Give her a name she will answer to"

-Ever since I've started identifying as a dude, my "moon time" has been intolerable. It's almost as though my uterus knows it's on its way out, and wants to go down in a blaze of glory. After dinner, it set up the phalanx and rushed out, 300-style (obv. my gender-fabulous id is the Persians.) I was sweating and shaking and on the verge of vomiting up my bland tempeh and kale, which I probably would have done if Ian hadn't been in the other room and I hadn't been embarrassed about ralphing, lest he think I was a bulimoid. So I lay down on the floor of my room and did some pilates while I listened to Joni Mitchell. I felt much better after a few hours of this. It's like the old baby bag was like, "BE A WOMAN!" and I was like, "Okay, okay, whatever you want!" But I kind of liked it. Do you even *know* how good Blue is? Real good.

9/17: "I actually got my tattoo based on something I saw on Sally Jesse Raphael."

-I gave a tour to a kind of weird kid who made weird, condescending, homophobic comments, and then Chrissy came out to the intern area after giving him an interview, and said, "Was that kid a vampire?"

-Maia got a big chunk of cash for Andrew and me to play a show at Bard. Yes!

9/16: "I'm going to say these lines like they're pieces of food I don't want in my mouth."

-In Gender in Early Modern Europe this morning, Hector had a big paperback copy of Atlas Shrugged on the desk in front of him on top of the class books. Who does that? Only someone who likes Ayn Rand, I guess. Then Carol Pal, our glamourous Canadian visiting professor and general constant ray of light said, "Before I start, Hector, will you please take Atlas Shrugged off the desk. I hate that book. Ayn Rand is such a fascist." I started clapping uncontrollably, and everyone joined in. Ahhh!

9/15: "Will I get bugs on my computer if I download it?"

-My project for Visible Language, a rearranging of a Philip Levine poem, was lost in the ether of the internet, but for the best: I ended up writing an even better one about Degas telling a student in the forties how to give lyrical handjobs, which I'm going to include in its entirety here.

“Milky Forty,” Done Right:
M. Degas, Twenty-One, Teaches Freddie Durfee that Intermediate Downward Art, Detroit, 1942

(Reimagining of Philip Levine’s “M. Degas Teaches Art & Science at Durfee Intermediate School, Detroit, 1942”)

M. Degas looked down & spoke:

“I remember, at worst, I believed
intellectual students who bucked forever,
except for Gertrude,
Gertrude Bimmler,
who added her help, as I knew it,
from that past at school--”

“You’ve done what before?”

“I have.”

“Could I?”

“You’ve to ask a bold line, confidently,
looking to the possible: Way before
Gertrude, I did
Lucas Warshowsky, twenty--”

“Go on, M. Degas!” he shouted.

"--The room dark, this
precisely incorrect playground
of an isosceles science. I looked
back, diagonally, left,
begun with this--”

“Go on, M. Degas!” he repeated.

“I’d be bordering the pursed
minutes I created from store--”

“What minutes?”

“--On the one clock, in the study. It was
not exactly the most handmade
stroke you could have,
but it was to separate the roof
and the dark of the room,
for melted candy of maples,
and to represent walks begun, not
for you to have back…always a hand
of blackboard, the triangle cracked
from desks and his lips.
He quaked to the broken blackboard,
shivered,
and no one moved on.
The eleven April winds would
smile. Their trees stood back,
the early snow not swaggering,
all raised and repeated chalk,
for she knew a piece of what I done.
--But I have added another thought now.”

M. Degas mused particular until
the hypotenuse of the elms,
as though in complicity,
could have moved a barn.

9/14: Belated Entry Roundup!

9/14- Andrew and Asher made some dope zucchini bread, which I slathered in earth balance and butter. Arielle and I decided that we should start saying "We are kings among men!" instead of "We're so lucky!" as a house motto.

9/13- Tyler had a wonderful little get-together. I really enjoyed all of the company wholeheartedly, even people I'm usually not too hot about. It was a nice little lesson about how disliking people casually doesn't really get you anywhere, and it's better to just meet people where they are and enjoy yourself.

9/12- I dressed up as David for a costume party, and had too much fun sneering at people and doing the Wuthering Heights dance with various boys and helping myself other people's Genesse.
- Emily and Maren and I went to Knapp's and I fell in love with a cockatiel who I would name Morrissey.

9/11- In Barry's class, we watched a completely bizarre documentary about Hitler's obsession with art. It's even easier to think he was the worst dictator ever when you see the paintings he bought (another one of the Austrain Alps and some clouds? YAWN!)

9/10- How luxurious to have the afternoon off! I don't remember what I did with it, which is probably a good thing.

9/9- I fell asleep around 8:00 P.M. Last time I didn't have class on Wednesdays, back in fall term of my sophomore year, I used to get raging drunk every Tuedsay night, and my friends and I eventually started calling it Boozeday. But this term so far, I just hit the sack early. Snoozeday!

9/8- Barton made me breakfast before work. How kind.

9/7: "I wish I always had you as my helper monkey."

-Pietras Sundays.

9/4: "Well, I'm trying to examine you!"

-Ian and Emma and Sage and I smoked and told bad jokes. The best one was: This guy goes into the doctor's office for a physical. As he's being examined, the doctor says to the man, "I'm sorry, but I believe you'll have to stop mastrubating." The man says, "God, why?" The doctor says, "Well, I'm trying to examine you!"

9/3: "No matter how long you live here, Russ, you'll never be a native."

-I got a ride into town in the school shuttle to go to KMart to buy a pillow, since my old ones got moldy in the basement over the summer. There was a new van driver who was basically a cross between Christopher Walken and my grandpa. His name was Bill, and he introduced himself with a firm handshake. He kept affectionately calling me "Russ" in an avuncular way that only could have meant that I was passing, which was crazy. He was very chatty about politics and weather and living in Vermont, and humbly flustered about trying to keep track of all the pickups and drop-offs. Best van driver ever.

-As I was putting a birthday present in someone's box in the mailroom, Eddie entered and gave me the most conceited sneer from behind his Ray-Bans, as though to say, "I can't believe you would give someone a gift!"

9/2: "They all have the cheekbones."

-I slept through dinner, but then microwaved a plate of beef tacos someone had put aside for me.

-Barton and I went down to campus in the evening to read in front of Commons, but then just ended up talking to Trevor about how much we love voice instructor Tom Bogdan.

9/1: "I don't do pills...Oh well, okay!"

-Marissa and Alex and Arielle and a few others made a delicious barbacue.

-It was overwhelmingly amazing to see everyone again. Just to sit in Welling drinking champagne with Audrey and Maggie and Tyler and Emily and the Wills and everyone else, and even to be in Stokes with Skip and Alice and Monte and Josh and everyone else, and people I didn't know. There's something strangely empowering about being a senior at a small college. This must be like what male priviledge is like.

8/31: "And look what happened to HER!"

-While I was waiting to get picked up by my dad to go to the airport, my mom and I were sitting around talking about how to get all my stuff back to Oregon once I graduate. She made a really offensive joke about one of my friends who committed suicide a few years ago, along the lines of, "I mean, J______ drove across the country to bring her stuff back west, and look what happened to her!" All summer I've been kind of afraid of offending my mom, and then she rips out with this; I feel like things have gotten back to normal a little bit now--and it was the type of joke the friend would have liked.

-I made a wicked dank sandwich when I got home to Vermont, with fresh tomatoes, butter lettuce, vegenaise, stoneground mustard, curry paste, olive oil, salt, and pepper, on rustic whole wheat toast. What a delight!

8/30: "So my friends were all just sitting around and picking their butts, and I was like, 'I'm going to go upstairs and do some math...problems.'"

-I found the ideal glasses for pretty cheap, and will have them ready in a few breif days. They look like this, or rather, hopefully I will look like this in them.

-Clark and I had the best hanging out in the world. I made some sick tomato sauce, and then we went on a walk and ended up sitting in the weird circular part of a steel traffic barricade which had just enough room for two. We picked blackberries by the slue right before it got dark, and he a) climbed over the brambles to get the juiciest berries for me, and b) pulled me up when I slipped and fell down the creek. Then we went back to my house and he played metal licks for me on my guitar and talked about Wittgenstien. Though we hadn't hung out in a year, and we were never that close of friends in high school, I couldn't have asked for a better last night in Eugene if I tried. I accidentally kicked over a drum when he hugged me goodbye, but I didn't care in the least. And I would totally have tried to kiss him if I were sticking around.

8/29: "Really, the best deal is Busch Light. 18-pack for like, ten dollars."

-I had some friends over to say goodbye before I head back to Vermont, and had a box of Pabst in the fridge. My little brother, an ex-jock stoner type with a heart of gold, stopped by for a few minutes before the party, and, as he was walking out the door, said, "You're such a hipster." I don't think I realized "hipster" was in his vocabulary, and somehow it made me happy that it is.

- Also, this, striking the perfect balance between touching and exploitative.

-Plus, I got to call Chad "The Hemingway of Cougar Jokes," and then go on a little too long about how I love the part in A Movable Feast where he keeps going on about how pretty Fitzgerald's lips are.

8/28: "On forms that said M or F, I'd write, 'none of your business.'"

Lots of good things:

-I came out to my mom as trans and it wasn't nearly as scary as I'd anticipated. She even used the word "strap-on" when we were talking about the possibility of bottom surgery. (!).

-After dinner, Mom and I went and saw a clay studio on 4th and Polk, and got the "grand tour." Though I totally made a fool of myself trying to talk to the owner about wood kilns, mom introduced me by the dude name, which was great, and affirming.

-I went out "on the town" with Shai, and got a free ride in a bike cab from a total cutester who saw me play at Wandering Goat a few weeks ago. Then we got served drinks by Mark, the guy who used to serve me and Andrew pizza in high school.

-I drunkenly biked home listening to Your Arsenal and ate a Haagen-Dazs bar. Yes!