not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Has anybody seen this website?  I’ve been playing with it for the last hour and a half or so instead of writing my college essay which, ironicaly, is about the effect of science on my life.  Does it count for anything that I was avoiding writing about science with a scientific pursuit?  Anyway, there are a lot of plain elliptical galaxies in there, but occasionally you do get the odd fantastic spiral or a really odd shape.  Thanks to Dr. Brian May, CBE for posting it on his website.  You should check him out as well at http://brianmay.com.  I know it’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of his, but hush.  You might be familiar with his guitar playing, but take a look at his stereoscopic photography in the “Brian’s Soapbox” section.  The trick for the parallel eyes is to stare straight ahead into the distance (in the direction of the image) and unfocus your eyes.  When I do it, at least, I first see three images and then the centre one slowly flickers into focus while the other two disappear.  Fascinating, really.  Anyway, I should get back to my essay/figuring out how to make custom fields show in this theme/watching the 1980 Floor Show when the first disc finishes downloading (some time soon).  Night!

Sleep is a luxury that my brain hasn’t allowed me since the middle of last week. I’ve slept in short bursts of maybe half an hour at a time. I eventually passed out on my bed last night around 3am. Right now I can barely hold up my cup of tea without my hand shaking uncontrollably. I’m going to England tomorrow, so that’s a plus. Hooray for Oxford and Cambridge, not to forget the Blur concert. They just played Rebel Rebel on FNX. At least, I think it was FNX. I’m really too tired to find out. It sort of made my day. It’s a bleak outlook on the radio when one good song among many bad can make me smile. I feel sort of hollow. The school year’s over. No academics to distract me from life. I hate the summer. I hate not being busy. The only thing I’ve done really today is stare at the computer screen like a fucking zombie and dance around my room to a live recording of Cracked Actor. I need to sleep. I need to pack. I need to get it together and pull out of the self inflicted isolation and touch something. I think I’m going to be a rock star when I grow up.

I haven’t had much to say about the original purpose of this blog recently. Transitioning is no longer my single-minded obsession. It’s not that I feel any differently about not being female. I’ve just realised there are more important things that need my attention. Figaro’s cancer diagnosis, I think, was a wake up call in this area. I’ve since created for myself an informal quest to find the greatest rock album I’ve ever heard and last week, I bought David Bowie’s Station To Station. Love at first note(?). Cliché though it may be, it speaks to my current state of mind. After reading and watching The Man Who Fell To Earth I’ve developed a sort of morbid fascination with The Thin White Duke who, as a character, seems to be an extension of Thomas Jerome Newton in search of salvation. Bowie himself regarded the song Word On A Wing as an appeal to religion to pull him out of the emotional and spiritual vacuum of playing Newton.

I haven’t felt so strongly about an album since I first heard The Art of Drowning. And in some deep down twisted way, I relate to The Thin White Duke. I found that I have in fact, over the course of this year, partaken in the process of finding things I dislike about myself and systematically killing them. I’ve become cold and harsh and stopped believing in love. I’m once again finding myself in a dark place with no exits. The Thin White Duke serves as a warning of what I might become if I push this personal cleansing too far and Station To Station is the plea for absolution.

Hey all.  Long time no see.  I’ve been staying up until ridiculous hours of the morning trying to win one of Davey Havok’s inspirational posters.  No such luck.  Oh well.  Um, I’ve finished APs, finals are coming up this week, and I still haven’t written my English term paper.  I went to the Adirondacks with my junior class last week and came back covered in black fly bites and rope burn from playing tetherball in the dark.  My back is still killing me from sleeping in my binder for a week, but there was no way I was going to magically transform into a “girl” at bed time.  Right now I’ve been sitting in my cave in my pyjamas all day for the entire weekend, picking out the melody to New Generation by Suede on my long forgotten Theodoric (for those who don’t know, he’s my guitar).  I have tickets to Blur for 2nd July in London!  So… Top 10 things I’m looking forward to this summer:

1. Seeing Figaro

2. (hopefully) a release date for AFI’s album Crash Love

3. Blur!

4. Maybe working at CANTER

5. Playing more guitar (badly, of course)

6. Visiting Oxford and Cambridge

7. Sleeping

8. I’m running out of ideas.

9. Seriously

10. I’m boring.

Don’t mind me, I’m rambling.  At this point I’m running on adrenaline alone, having not really slept for 2 weeks.  I have a giant dalek in my room and it’s staring at me.  Fuck this, I’m gone.

*Not mine. Stolen from Jade Puget

It’s winter now. I don’t mean the pristine white blanketed world we associate with Christmas. I mean real winter. Where the snow is gritty and layered with dirt. And the cold isn’t so much acute as the bitter kind that settles in your joints. It’s the part of winter that makes you wish for spring. There’s a sharp ache in my knees whenever I take a step and I can’t feel my hands.  It’s January.  This is my season.  The atmosphere  almost matches my mood.