(factors: 1/4 Oxycontin, 500mg acetamenophen, stool softener, large suture across my forehead, home for Christmas, thinking about the Changeling rpg as a beautiful game written by people unaware of their sheltered lives, watched the trailer for "Prometheus" which is also the name of my favorite god*.)


In my bed in the old house, the single bed, the child's bed. Night

 

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And this is where the dream becomes lucid. Not as in "aha, I'm dreaming!" more like, "coffee would be nice but I prefer agency."

Well. This place is closed this early. Let's see what's ahead - what's in the future for sex-work?
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To take fiction and make it fact.

You know the kind of fiction we read, watch, hear or or act-out and wistfully, enviously, or hopefully wish were true?

"<Sigh>, if only there were a safe, kind place like that."

"If only people really did put on masks and help people (rather than do violence to them)."

"If only there were tricksters that fought oppresion rather than taking advantage of others."

"If only I was a girl, a boy, a something-else."

I want every yearned-for story to come true. I want to crack open every storybook and have the characters stream out. And when there is no story, only a misty hope, I want to condense it into stories, that it might seep down through the cracks in our souls, there to brew and, one day, bubble forth.

I want to raise Heldscalla.* I want fact and fiction twined about each-other, not one undercutting the other through deception or disappointment, but fusing into a rope stretching from underworld to heaven - allowing free passage of mortal into divine, where we walk in all possible worlds and the gods walk the earth.

Fact and fiction around each-other, not to deceive, or to disappoint, but to fuse, flow into-each other. This is not only my inspiration, I think it is the core of what we often mean by "inspiration."


My last attempt to sleep on a piece of wedding cake for three nights (in the hopes of divining my future in romance and/or marriage) resulted in a vivid dream of joining a five-person/four-gendered hub-mind.

(To deliberately bring about a dream is a practice known as "incubation")

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I need to remember to tell people:

before we go do mushrooms, you should know that for me this is less about entertainment, and more about psycho-spiritual intensity
.

Today it was JP and I at Burnaby Mountain. It was intense. And it was good.


Two facets; one person )


On Sunday, I went to Burnaby lake to enter a psilocybin-induced altered state. Each time, I discover new things.

I realize:

1 - Where I am right now may not be perfect, but it is the product of a long series of sensible choices; good decisions under disorienting cirucmstances. I guess that's good.



2 - (Speaking of "sensible choice:") Gender identity still confirmed. I have noticed that when I strip away habitual anxiety, there's a charming , sometimes happy, and often bewildereed me underneath who is more or less who I thought I would be. She's 21 though. Read more... )

3 - I feel sad and kinda distant. There has been a lot of loss and change recently. My Aunt died a month ago. There was no body to see, and I think I'm starting to feel it.Read more... )

This said, in the last few more-lucid days, I have found the following:



(4) It is really good to see some of my old friends. We will hang out more often.

(5) Going to BCIT from SFU is like going to the moon.Read more... )
Oh yeah. Things feel like they've gone back to "normal." Don't know why. Like the world returns to balance.
...and now I'm crazy from a fever.

Like shivering while dressed under several layers of blankets.
Like waving my arms around in an overheated half-sleep.
Dreaming sleep replaced by a chaotic series of nonsense images.

Like my body went Okay, you're done your diploma. Now I'm going to make you lie down for a bit.

It's okay. I'll be fine in a few days. Until then, sleepy time is Delphic Oracle time.
Here's an interesting exercise for you. Especially you larpers.

Make up a character. As you do so, describe the ways that you and the character differ, as if you were being appraised by a third party who knew you both very, very well. Go ahead and invent contrary aspects of your character. Trend towards character aspects that you'd like to play, to be, for a little bit. You are building a vacation persona.

The next stage I tried was designed for writers supposed to flesh out the character. You pretend to be a journalist or PR person or whatever in the world of the story, and you write an interview.

But, this being a larp character; one I play rather than write, I put two chairs facing each-other then switched back and forth until Janet kinda took over and started asking me questions, then scrutinizing my answers. Picking me apart. Knowing me very, very well. But from the perspective of a different person who's gotta get along with me. She starts going after why I want to play a contrasting character, draws some blood. It's good.

Sorting out. Things clicking in my head. It worked in a way I'd never expect it.

I got her some props, some appropriate costuming. Keep her up for longer in the future. This is good.

And I want to try this with a second person.

Oh yeah - anyone have advice on getting into a character or putting on a mask?
I'm getting genital electrolysis done as a prior-to for surgery. And I gotta tell you, it sucks.

I'm using Lydocane, a by-prescription-only topical analgesic: it numbs the surface of my skin and it still hurts. Aftewards the combination of hot needles and hair removal and genitals and a topical analgesic (Is it strong? Well, high doses "can interfere with resperation") and after an hour, this leaves me wandering around in a half-associated daze, moreso than any playing I've done before.

Then it's off to class.


Every Tuesday.

It's worth it though.

I open my eyes and the world comes back on me with a rush. Busy people. Flourescant lights. A gurney's edge.

"Where am I?"

Questions come back at me. Name. Birthdate. Etcetera.

This must be the post-OR room ("the post-operating room room"). I'd not seen it yet, only heard one of its occupants moaning.
Swelling has narrowed my vision to a tear-streaked La-Forge-esque strip.

Indeed.It feels like I have taken a small muppet, stretched it and shoved my head up its ass until it fits like a belaclava.

Fortunately, I'm not having trouble sleeping on my back. I am having trouble with stress/narcotic-induced repetitive dreams that gradually turn sour and more baffling over the course of the night. I've been up for a coule hours, hoping to shake them.

Also, slight tinglings in numb places herald diminished swelling and the return of nervous sensation. Good.



So I've finally posted the renaming stuff here. Now what?

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I've been finding that, occasionally and unexpectedly, a sense of gratification, harmony or rightness surrounds me. This feeling of being happily embodied is new, and it tells me that I'm doing the right thing - whether that's "the right thing" is whatever I'm doing in the moment, or transition in general (probably both). This occurs most frequently at moments of genuine and often kinesthetic expression, unchecked by second-guessing; through movement, exertion, crying, creating art. It never occurs when looking in the mirror, nor has it come while pacing at a bus stop.

In tandem with this state, I usually perceive a semi-conscious image of me-now; a visual flicker in my mind as if I'm seeing myself viewed from elsewhere. It is a harmonious image; squaring with how my body feels, but seeing myself from outside carries a measure of disassociation with it, and I wonder what that means.

I would like to make these moments more frequent, as they seem to point to "yes, what you're doing is right for you." I am not sure how to do this.

Exercise seems to set it off. It can be climbing a steep hill, or using all limbs to scale a pile of concrete road-markers, or even carrying heavy groceries. In all cases, it's oddly gratifying, drawing me into present awareness.

I need to do some kind of a sport, I guess. The rec centre strike is over. Maybe I should see what's available? Something that doesn't involve a lot of running (i.e. no Soccer) on account of my knee, but which still require exertion. Suggestions? Locations?

Oh, right, I was thinking of taking up paintball.
There's a a blast of cold on your skin, a pulse of heat and flash of light, a varying amount of pain, and then rhythmic "whump." Repeat once per second.

I even have that relaxed/hungry feeling after the fact.

Of course the stench of burning hair might make it a poor choice for parties.

My facial hair has been abused into a pale and sparse shape, and the electrologist need no longer curse and swear because it comes out real easy now.

Speaking of ASC/kink, electrolysis would also do nicely. Dark room with one bright light. Needle goes into a pore. Pulse of heat and/or electricity kills hair, hurts skin. Clicking noise. Needle comes out. Tweezers pluck the hair out. Repeat.

The only complication with both is that you have to grow it out to get it removed. This said, 3-day stubble is now less obvious than 1-day used to be. I hope to stop shaving come January.

Progress.
"I now have a lot more respect for 14-year-old boys"

- participant at a transgender support group


I empathize. Both he and I were/are dealing with having the hormonal oscillations of an adolescant member of our preferred gender.

All this crazy hormone shit is good - it's really good - but it's interesting and, at times, six kinds of intense.

Sorry this is cryptic, I'll fill in more later.

This has been a very human day, no, a very human afternoon, one full of first and understandings.

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August 2017

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