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Reading 26: She pervades all this
My fingers are cold on the keys, it’s a cold snap, an ‘arctic freeze’. On Thursday, I bought new thermals to wear under my thin autumn dresses. I’m 26 years old now, and over three years on hormones. The longer I’m on them, the less I have to say about them. Like many other things…
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Reading 25: Such is the life of a transsexual in the big city
The first thing is that is difficult to tell if it even happened. But it works in the mind, spiralling outward, colouring everything until something better can take its place I feel like I go through different phases, alternating like chequered light. One is that I walk the streets making eye contact with everyone,…
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Reading 24: Frou-frou foxes in Midsummer Fires
Another season, proposing a name and distant resolution. And, like the wind, all attention. That was the opening line from John Ashbery’s poem ‘The Ivory Tower’, taken from his 1981 collection, Shadow Train. I’d been avoiding that particular collection for years, put off by its continued use of quatrains, the most hideous of poetic forms,…
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Reading 22: doesn’t joy, like fear, make no sound?
Once again, I’ve let several months slip away without posting anything on here. I do have good reasons, though. For one, and the main reason, is that I’d been working on finding a new flatmate on spareroom. From February until the end of March, much of my life and mental space was taken up by…
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Reading 21: Three windows
I’ve loved the views from many windows throughout my life, but there are a few that have fixed themselves in my memory and crystallised as if what they contained was itself an expression of that particular period in my life. That these windows have come to make a lasting impact on me did not come…
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Reading 20: Winter interlude
The wind was so strong yesterday that I thought the bus I was in might tip over. Rain was clattering against the windows, and I was alone on the top deck. Saturday morning. All night the storm had been loud, rattling every door and hinge in the flat so that it sounded like banging. I…
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Reading 19: On Doomerism
I don’t use reddit very much anymore, but one of the few subreddits I actually regularly do read every so often is r/TransLater. Which is weird, because, as trans-related subreddits go, r/TransLater represents a kind of trans experience that is one of the furthest from my own. Most of the posts r/TransLater are written by…
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Reading 18: The waves of morning harshness float away like coal-gas into the sky.
The nights are colder now, I’ve been finding myself very tired in the late evenings, and often go straight to sleep without even reading before bed. For one of the first times in my life, it’s actually been pleasant, feeling the nights draw in, and the air get colder. And it’s been a great month-…
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Reading 17: In the body of the goddess
“The Goddess” to me means the historical female deities from different cultures. But it also means the divine being, or spiritual power, as it comes into existence in ourselves and in the universe around us. (p.27) I finally got round to reading Rachel Pollack’s 1997 book, The Body of the Goddess, which I’d started not…
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Reading 16: It was gonna be a BRAT summer
On my summer of illness It is the first of September. Which usually saddens me, or at least brings up a wistful sense of loss or waste, though mixed with the knowledge that autumn is a kind of downward slope in which everything gets forgotten and all can, finally, move on. I arrived back from…
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