I have to say, and I hate to say, writing here has become somewhat of a chore. It does not flow easily as it used to. I forget the things that I meant to tell you about, and I groan to think of how many days it has been since my last post of substance. I don’t even count hits anymore, I can hardly find time to read and respond to the legion butch/femme and sexuality writers out there. And let me tell you, they are legion. The number of people I read now, vs. whom I read a year ago has probably doubled if not tripled. I can’t keep up with all your fantastic theory, self revelation and revelry, and even the reality checks that bring things into focus.
I’m not saying I’m going to stop writing altogether, because I’m sure once I get back in the groove of things, I’ll be scribbling off notes to myself left and right. I’ve been very pleased to delve into Queer Theory: An Introduction and American Queer, Now and Then and Gendering Bodies.
If you’re looking for great writing about gender troubles or the thin lines between butch and trans, definitely look for writings by the distinguished sociology and feminist professor Dr. Sara Crawley. Ze has several rather engaging publications in print right now, one of which I used for the paper I gave on Femme legitimacy in the queer community. Read “Prioritizing Audiences: Exploring the Differences Between Stone Butch and Transgender Selves”. It’ll rock your transmasculine world.
Since I have reported myself as somewhat of a sexblog, but more of a life/queerness/women’s issues blog lately… I should tell you that the sex is um… infrequent but very, very good. You know it’s good when it lasts you a few days. When it’s really good, we’ve found each other saying, “last night was so nice!” I get little text messages saying, “I can’t stop thinking about how good you made me feel!” Right now our love is not that voracious, raging, new love. It has simmered and sizzled into a satisfying, comfortable, snuggle-me-at-night love, we are not tragic, we are not heroic, we are not married, she is not my wife. But we coexist so peacefully, she and I.
So many months of begging the universe to bring me someone good for me and here she is. It’s not all peaches and cream (oooh… peaches and cream!) — close — but it is steady and calm.
I found myself missing the sacred circle of the Body Electric School the other day. Sunday. I had not felt that void in some time, but it was there. A womyn-only-space shaped hole in my heart. Naked singing and dancing hole. A gap the shape of pushing boundaries. A comfortable velvet cloak, that void. I used to talk about the void in Mexico and Cuba…
hay un vacio en el corazon. todas tienen este vacio… y atemptamos llenarlo con cosas varias pero… pero solamente Dios puede llenarlo.
I used to say that only God could fill the void. Now, I think what fills that void is self love. Remember, I used to preach Jesus… but the word “Jesus” came out sound like “love thyself!”
Do it people. Love yourselves. Please do it. It is so very, so very important to me.
I am a lover-healer…
I am a lover-healer…