I try to stay the fuck clear of most trannie politics these days, because somewhere around the mid-2000s it took a turn for the cunty. A few weeks ago Andrew Sullivan opened the floodgates, so after avoiding all these angry trannies and revisionist queers for most of the last 15 years, i had to put up with the barrage of dissents on my daily morning commute (well, right up until ISIS fucked up Iraq again). And, apparently, trans-whatever-the-fuck-they're-calling-t
And you know what? When i was a baby trannie, even though all i wanted was to live a "normal" life as a woman, it wasn't the girl next door who inspired me on that journey. It was the fantastical beauty of the models in Vogue, and the larger-than-life drag queens who rocked the stage every weekend at my local clubs. They poked fun at the most ridiculous parts of being a woman, and celebrated the greatest things about it. The angry trannie contingent completely misses the point. If you can't laugh at yourself, you're all still stuck in transition, girls. Embrace the fabulousness, enjoy the show, come along on this fun and fanciful ride for a few minutes. Gender IS a fucking show. And i am so glad things have progressed to the point where this sort of entertainment is out there for the masses.
On a vaguely related note, next week is Fashion Week. But more importantly, there is a Cabaret revival opening. I think i might do a solo musical adventure, because, you know. Watching it in Berlin would almost make up for no Liza Minelli.
In other news: work, alcohol, sleep. And i finally got a prescription for hormones again. Maybe tomorrow i will go dayclubbing.
