Bone, Brain

A trembling in the bones may carry a more convincing testimony than the dry documented deductions of the brain. ~Llewelyn Powers

Constant, Craving

Words for when one just wants to sit still and have some certainty of what will happen next. But knows it isn't possible, or even desirable really:

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. ~Anatole France

The man who looks for security, even in the mind, is like a man who would chop off his limbs in order to have artificial ones which will give him no pain or trouble.
~Henry Miller

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions.
~Ellen Glasgow

Femmes Of Power *LAUNCH*

i will not cry i will not cry i will not cry... the march activities in sydney just keep coming! for example:

Slit Magazine with the Femme Guild and Feminist Bookshop
present the Femmes of Power: Exploding Queer Femininities Book launch
by Del LaGrace and Ulrika Dahl

Come and celebrate this exxcitng new book a stunning collaboration from gender variant photographer Del LaGrace Volcano and Swedish writer Ulrika Dahl. Stilettos, lipstick, beards: there’s more than one way to be a queer femme. Del and Ulrika travelled seven countries in their quest to explore the notion of queer femininity.

Come and Chat
with Ulrika Dahl (Sweden) with host Kitty Minge (UK)

Thursday 5th March
630-930pm $5
Shows By Vixen Noir (San Fran), Lillian Star, Molly,Dj Pony
Food and refreshments available
Red Rattler Theatre
6 Faversham St
Marrickville

actually, maybe i will cry. vixen is in town doing shows and workshops all over the place and i'm not going to make ONE of them. BIG POUT.

Angles in the Architecture

Two quotes for this day:

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”

and

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”

Both Michelangelo, and both very apt for my current creative situation.

TAWDRY HEARTBURN'S MANIC CURES

The Manic Cures Project

Do Something for Someone in Exchange for an Anonymous Secret
“The man who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the man with no secrets to keep”

Edgar Watson Howe

You may be wondering just what A World Of Secrets, and Tawdry Heartburn are all about. I have been thinking much the same thing, for quite a while! The name Tawdry Heartburn, a draggy word play on that movie star (and you'd be surprised how many don't get it) has been rattling around in my head for years. Depending which of my buddies you talk to, I've been blathering on about doing something with Audrey Hepburn/ Tawdry Heartburn for 5 or 6 years, but I didn't wanna do just another drag thing. Finally I realised early this year that Tawdry was a man! Funny how if you stick around for long enough, life conspires for a seemingly haphazard confluence of events to add up to something that is possibly well ordered and more significant. Know what I'm saying? Life falls into place and now all the pieces of the puzzle seem to make sense. However, trying to articulate that effectively and succinctly, well that's the trick, huh?

The project is basically a free interactive performance and webwork (web network of sites, blogs, social networking pages) performed by Tawdry Heartburn, who is a character created by performing artist, teacher and qualified nail technician, James Berlyn. I knew that course would come in handy one day. God knows I hated the six months I ran my own business in a hair dressing salon in Sydney in the mid 90s! But that entry, "The Evolution of Tawdry" is for another day.

So, TAWDRY HEARTBURN'S MANIC CURES, can be a street performance or festival gig with just Tawdry doing the nails of participants/audience members, passers by or depending on the budget of the sponsor, promoter, funding body, there can be multiple Tawdrys, but the key element is that the audience doesn't pay. Tawdry does their nails and in return they write down on the note paper a genuine personal secret, and then fold it up like a ballot paper and put it into the cookie jar on Tawdry's table. Of course, they use ASSUMED NAMES ONLY, but everyone is free to interact with Tawdry or the sites at no charge.

So that's the whole box and dice (as I understand it) as of this moment. I have performances coming up soon and more of that later, so let me know what you think : email Tawdry at tawdry@aworldofsecrets.com

On at the Blue Room in Perth for the next couple of Tuesdays. See the website.

Compliments Of A Beautiful Boy

he wrote:

'i spanked a gothling last night whose little boy arse marked up beautifullyinto shadesof Blue and Purple and Welt and HandPrint. Reminded meofyou.'

with words such as these, i remember who i am. and that it is quite possibly time for a rematch with that dear chap upon my return to the glittering city...

25 Things You Never Needed To Know About Me

In case some of you don't get my facebook notes:

1. My favourite smells include WD40, frangipani, leather (despite being vegetarian), diesel, amyl on a dancefloor, and the spot behind my monster's right ear. I have a friend across the country who asked me to send her my smell in a postbag.
2. Recently I made a decision to just FORGIVE everyone that had hurt me in the past. It made me feel a lot better and far less injured, but takes some willpower to keep on top of.
3. When I first got to Berlin I waited hours for a friend in OstBanhhof (?), a train station. I was so inspired by Germans, even sausage-eating coffee-drinking pensioner Germans, that I wrote my first piece of erotica. I was in love and lust with that city from the moment I smelled him.
4. I left school when I was fourteen, despite being some sort of freak-geek that came top of almost everything. Or perhaps because of that. When I left school I could do calculus and complicated algebra, and now I cannot divide a restaurant bill. I miss the science-maths side of my brain. I still suffer from bouts of intellectual insecurity, even though I am close to finishing a PhD. No, its not logical.
5. When I was 17 I became engaged, to a man. 10 years later the relationship ended, we still weren't married, and I had never shagged anyone else or done anything kinky. By the end of the same year I had four partners of assorted genders and a highly developed threshold for whips and canes. I was always a very bad sub though, and have a tendency to top even when I am on the bottom.
6. I took acid twice when I was 14 or 15, and then didn't touch chemicals again until I was 27. They still make me nervous, both when I take them and when other people do. Much of this comes from having too many drugged-out partners and watching so many people in my community just disintegrate. That said, I have had periods of alcoholic despair and disaster that have put me in very bad places. In the past year or so I have made very conscious efforts not to go there anymore if I can help it-- and have been moderately successful. Still working on it.
7. I never understood how girls were supposed to act or interact, despite considering myself one. I avoided this for years by mostly hanging around with men, but when I started shagging women there was no avoiding it really. I still cannot compete at gossip, bitchy put-downs or stealing people's partners, but can now play agony aunt, breastfeed and bake vegan chocolate cakes. Maybe that just makes me a Sensitive New Age Fag?
8. I have hung by hooks twice, but not for very long, and want to increase the time I can stay up. I have also done a few flesh pulls, which are simply delicious. I cannot be all cool about piercing or tattooing most of the time, and just giggle and swoon about and moan when being skewered or inked. This disturbs some body-hackers, strangely. What, its NOT a turn-on or freaking big adrenalin rush for everyone?
9. When I was a teenager I used to cut myself with razor blades. It was mostly for dramatic effect, or so I thought at the time. I also refused to go to school, and ended up at some sort of junior happy house for troubled teens. Living with a girl who only quacked like a duck to communicate made me realise that I had a long way to go in the eccentricity stakes.
10. Despite being a gender-bending childless fag I have lactated three times, for reasons of curiosity and art. I wish I found it more sexually entertaining, as its a lot of hard work to maintain and if it was pervy for me I would probably stick at it for longer.
11. My biological family is quite physically eccentric, and I often felt different for being 'normal'' of body- no wheels, all my limbs, pretty average sensory capacities.
12. I love my family a lot. It makes me very sad that so many of my friends didn't have the same level of care and unconditional love that I experienced as a child, and still experience. They don't quite get a lot of the queer stuff, but when I told my mum I didn't think of myself as female she said 'I didn't think you had for years' and I realised that maybe they knew me better than I ever imagined.
13. I grew up Catholic, which is a fine beginning for a pervert and an artist. I did take all of it rather seriously, planning to save myself for marriage (if you didn't count oral) and having a thing for high collars and long skirts. I led my first Communion procession and used to get to read a lot in church. Somehow I always missed out on liturgical dancing though, which made me realise I wasn't one of the pretty and graceful ones. Either that, or I was one of the few they could trust to read out loud.
14. I am half-British, giving me a UK passport and a love of BBC television shows. The Bill (early), Rumpole, To The Manor Born, The Good Life, The Famous Five, The Wombles, Basil Brush, The Goodies-- such things still make me squirm in childish delight! I almost cry when I hear that Thames music. when the picture comes up.
15. When I was young I wouldn't let people shorten my name to Cath because I thought it sounded like a lesbian name. Go figure.
16. I tried for years to convince myself that I could be kind of vegetarian whilst still eating seafood, but have given up all animal flesh now. Still can't quite convince myself to go vegan though!
17. I love Bears, and consider myself trans-species sometimes, and believe I am a 120 kilo Bear trapped in a 65 kilo Girly Body.
18. My first tattoo was a very badly worked butterfly on my back. I fainted twice, and almost threw up, even though it didn't hurt. It is tiny, and a cliche.
19. I have a huge list of things I would like to do after my thesis, including a documentary, and possibly a book based on it. I also want to work with glass, learn metal work and be brave enough to breathe fire. That is as much of a career plan as I can manage.
20. I would love to keep bees, so I had honeycomb available all the time. There is something incredibly erotic about apiary.
21. I have resigned myself to the fact that what I do-- academia, art, etc-- does not make much money but sometimes I still get jealous of people with houses and cars and expensive bespoke suits.
22. I am a tragic old alterna-goth thing at heart, listening to Cure, Smiths, Siouxsie, Lydia Lunch, Nick Cave and such. I often believe myself to be a character from a Lloyd Cole lyric, or maybe one of Elvis Costello's lost loves, and my chosen name is from a Birthday Party song. For years I wanted to be Leonard Cohen's muse. Or the animal in the Hunters and Collector's 'Dog'. I'm licking your hand all over.
23. I like being naked. A lot. Especially at bathhouses, saunas, beaches, spas.
24. Size matters, and I never pack soft.
25. My new favourite word is 'mingent'. It is an adjective, and means 'discharging urine'. It also has the word minge in it, and makes me think of damp fur. Woof.

Wandering, Wondering

This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window. It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one which I discuss incessantly with my soul.

-- Charles Baudelaire

A friend of a friend posted this as a comment in reply to a message about wanting to emigrate. It fits perfectly with my own soul-searching about my semi-nomadic lifestyle, and the imagining of who one will be if one is located somewhere else. As I prepare to return 'home' I can't help but fear that familiar places will bring about the return of my less desired elements as well as some I miss...

Spending Pennies

The World Toilet Info site is not only quirky, but quite useful if one is to venture to foreign parts. Tells you how to ask for the location of the toilette, and also provides points on what to expect when you get there, in pictures and cute English.

Quality Control

Oh Supervisor today raised the question of whether I want to make it a passable dissertation, or a truly fantastic one. Is it bad that I think I would be happy with the former? Would I? Not sure that I have any great insights to add to the debate really, and unless I amp up the more creative elements of it I'm not sure it will even approach fantastic at all. And how much time and energy do I want to/can I devote to making it amazing? Is it better to keep pushing away for an extra six months to make it super? Or am I better off just leaving it at adequate, quirky and able to pass and getting on with other projects? Given the probability that it won't be read by anyone but markers, folks, and friends, is it worth the effort?

I had just about resigned myself, in a good way, to academic middle-ground. I'm not bad as such, but realise that I am not the next Deleuze. I don't care much for an academic career per se, so its not an issue there. Part of me would still like to be lurking somewhere, with a university library card and access to interesting folk and opportunities, but its not where I see me most of the time. And now my supervisor asks this, out of the blue.


Yesterday I would have settled to just get the thing done, but the fact that she has explicitly posed the question made me think that maybe, just maybe, I could make it something magical.

Camille

Went to see Camille O'Sullivan last night, with the Monster. It confirmed that I do like champagne in outdoor settings very much, I love the vibe of most art festivals, I miss the Studio (Sydney, provider of much short, cheap, queer and outrageous entertainment) like crazy and I am, and I still find this unusual, finding long haired women with cleavage and a certain smutty attitude very appealing. Think it began again with Julia on Rock Kwiz-- thanks Madame P! Make them flirty, funny, slightly disheveled, and with that particular glint in their eyes and I am gone...

Unfortunately the few people I have actually known over the years who fulfilled that criteria were quite mad in very dangerous ways. Surely there must be a mostly-stable-femme-fatale category?

House Hunting

We are looking for a house to rent in Sydney, from Early April/Easter. In the spirit of 'putting it out there' here is a brief description of what we are looking for. If you notice anything interesting please do let us know! We have good references, are quite clean and tidy, and can pay as substantial amount up front.

We will need:
2 bedrooms, minimum
To be in general Newtown ghetto precinct e.g. Erskineville, Enmore, Stanmore, Camperdown, maybe as far as Marrickville
Reasonable rent (ie under $450 pw, pref a bit less)
Security features, deadlocks and window locks and preferably bars on accessible windows

We would like:
Gas cooking-- rather important to me
Pet friendly so we can bring Tempy over with us- rather important to the Monster
Courtyard or backyard for entertaining/growing of foodstuffs
Close to transport and shops

Academic Business

Just had a short chat to my supervisor-- and she thinks my writing is fabulous. Structure is another point entirely, as always, but at least she is happy with the matter,if not the form. Seems to be a recurring theme in my various practices...

Question for the geeks though: how does one find the THESIS? I mean, I have written a LOT of words, and done a lot of research, but not sure where to find the POINT. I didn't start with a question as such-- maybe I should work out what the question is and I will find the crux of the matter?

Oh, and I just received a book on milk in art/photography from MIT (Milk and Melancholy). Not about boob-juice as such, but reckon it might have some interesting ideas and theories anyway. And its an aesthetically pleasing object. Books are a source of torment, but also sublime joy!

Treats

My folks give me $$ for most celebrations. Christmas bought my new Samsonite suitcase, and birthday, so far, two vegan cookbooks (How it all Vegan, Garden of Vegan), and two sublime new shirts from threadless (not at all like their usual casual cartoon-y styles-- which I LOVE of course). And still have a wee bit left... So many treats!

My City Valentine

It is overcast here, with sprinkles of rain and threats of storm, and nowhere near the 35 degrees predicted by those supposed to know. We spend Valentine's Day eating muffins and drinking coffee and demolishing our mates' shed with jackhammer, sledgehammer, crow bar, angle grinder, tin snips and brute force. There's a narrow escape for some other and myself when a large wall unexpectedly falls, the panicked survey for damage to life and limb before the adrenalin kicks and we return to work faster than ever. In the middle of all the laughs and innuendo and casual camaraderie I find myself more homesick than usual.

When we get back to our house I hide in my study, looking for sanctuary on the internet and downloading Cure songs with a hope that they will carry me to more familiar places. The Monster nurtures me with chocolate and tea and I realise I miss my city like a lover, her-water-her-moods-her-tastes-her-smells-her-dirt-her-tides-her-perspectives-her-humour-her-nuances-her-seductions-her-people-her-architecture-her-excesses-her-possibilities-her-promises...

'and i forget how to move when my mouth is this
dry and my eyes are bursting hearts in a blood-
stained sky oh it was sweet it was wild and oh
how we...i trembled stuck in honey honey
cling to me so just one more just one more go
inspire in me the desire in me to never go home' (the cure, homesick)

I leave her so much these days it seems. And every time I return she is somehow new, but always the same as ever.

A Room Of My Own

The renovations are pretty much finished. I don't have to be cleaning anything, or paint anything, or dealing with real estate agents. My only household chore for the day is wait around for the air conditioning guy-- and maybe do some grocery shopping. I am not as sick as I have been for the last week. The Monster is out, meaning I don't have to be engaged in conversation or helping her with anything.

And so I decide that maybe NOW I can get some work done.

The cats run across my keyboard whilst I type. I can't get away from the cats, 'cos I need the internet to do catalogue searches and there in no wireless so I can't use it in another room. And yes, the cats have to be able to walk through here. The printer is producing blurry smudged text where my next crisp clean journal articles should be-- barely legible. The internet crunches and wheezes along, taking ridiculous amounts of time to download articles or even move between pages. I sit and fume and plot and dream of having a suitable working space.

All I want is a safe, clean, quiet study, with a big desk and bookshelves, a comfortable chair, a window, working wireless broadband and a functional printer. I WRITE A PHD. This is not some sort of hobby that I can just faff about with when not playing housewife or kitten-stepmother. IT'S ACTUALLY MY JOB. And I deserve to have a chance to do it well, without having to fight for every hour of uninterrupted work time or be forever traipsing the four corners of the city looking for printing facilities or a quiet library space that might have wireless I can access or staying up into the middle of the night in order to grab a few hours of uninterrupted EndNoting.

When I get back to Sydney I intend to get it. And I don't really care how. I'm in the last year of this project and don't have the time to play around any more.

(And yes, I do sort of feel like the uptight office freak sitting at my desk jealously defending my stack of rubber bands and staples, but so be it.)

Holy Cow, What A Cola

From SMH online today:
NEW DEHLI: For millions of devout Hindus, it's the real thing: a cola made from the urine of India's sacred cows. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, a leading Hindu cultural group, has developed Gau Jal or Cow Water, at its research centre in the holy city of Haridwar on the River Ganges, and hopes it will be marketed as a "healthy" alternative to Coke and Pepsi.

In some Indian states, cow dung and urine are sold in regular dairy shops alongside milk and yoghurt. Om Prakash, the director of the RSS cow protection department, said: "It will be a revolution of sorts. The acceptance of cow urine as a potent medicine is increasing day by day and once it comes as a cold drink, its demand will definitely increase. It will justify the high stature accorded to a cow in Indian culture." His team is focusing on packaging, marketing and preservation work to stop its drink from developing an unpleasant odour in the summer heat.

Trans Debate *SYDNEY*

The Gender Centre Inc and friends are presenting a debate that takes a light-hearted approach but gives realistic consideration to the topic of ‘Where does the trans community fit into the gay, lesbian and bisexual community?’ Does the T still fit at the end of the GLB?

Arguing for the affirmative: Katrina Fox, Stevie Clayton, Katelund Povey
Arguing for the negative: Tracie O’Keefe, Roberta Perkins, Rachael Wallbank

Hosted by renowned journalist and broadcaster Julie McCrossin.Entertainment provided by Jade Starr, local trans woman musician. This is a Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Festival event. It is FREE! No booking required, just turn up.

Date: 18 February 2009.
Time: 19:10 - 21:30
Location:Sydney Mechanics School of Arts. 280 Pitt St Sydney, Australia

Sundowner

Tonight I prowled the Women's Sundowner at Grapeskins with my Monster. Despite feeling like something the cat wouldn't even bother dragging in (still ill, but running on adrenalin and musk), I spent precious energy flirting with a particularly tasty young boi. Suddenly, I remembered how to hunt. Mark your prey, separate it from the pack, then...

I don't think I have sucked all the marrow out of Perth yet. Circling, I can almost taste the blood pumping. And with this hunting partner, my sights are set.

Gone Again

one last breath
the sky is high
the hungry earth
the empty vein
the ashes rain
death's own bed
man's own kin
into the wind
one last breath
hole in life
love knot tied
braid undone
child born
the hollow horn
warrior cried
a warrior died
one last breath
lick of flame
spirit moaned
spirit shed
the heavens fed
man's own kin
grips the sky
and he's gone again

-- Patti Smith
'Gone Again'

The news reports are full of fire and destruction. The current euphemism for dead is 'gone' it seems. That family is gone, his children are gone, her friends are gone. Recovery teams search the ashes and across the country I am consumed with fever.

Camouflage

In his work on mimicry, Callois makes it clear that an insect's ability to camouflage itself does not have a survival value-- it does not protect the creature from attack or death, and in fact may leave it open to even more hideous and unimaginable forms of death. He cites the case of a caterpillar cut in half by pruning shears, or the insect devoured by a member of its own species who mistakes it for a leaf...

Callois introduced a wanton dimension to his explanation of such features of animal existence. Camouflage, the capacity to imitate one's habitat or surroundings, far from performing an adaptive function, witnesses the captivation of a creature by its representations of and as space, its displacement from the center, from a "consciousness" of its place (in its body, located in space) to the perspective of another. The mimicking insect lives its camouflaged existence as not quite itself, as another.

-- Elizabeth Grosz, Animal Sex: Libido as Desire and Death

Leaky Academic

The fact that I spend all day contemplating bodily fluids in one form or another does not lessen the power they have to weaken my knees and cause my breathing to quicken. Indeed, its possible it makes it STRONGER.

Today I wallow in milk, corporeal gifting, the transfer of tissues between bodies. I've taken my shirt off in the heat, and I can smell myself curdling.

Frisky

Maybe its the end of renovations. Maybe its the heat. Maybe its the promise of soon rolling about in Sydney soon. Maybe its the smell of paint and cleaning products. Maybe its hormonal. Whatever the cause, I am friskier than usual these last few days.

In a constant state of alert, making eye contact with strangers in the street, imagining pervy Perth possibilities, wondering who, what, how I can hunt, procure, entice, devour (or be devoured). All organs erect, flushed skin and frantic heart, lips licking lips locking, mucous membranes melting, all senses hyper-aware, of scents, sounds, sights-- traces of aftershave in the mall, sounds of breathing in the elevator, the knot of a tie around an unshaven throat.

Fairy Queen

Go to this.

Tools For Actions

A very cute collection of public actions/guerilla art initiatives and whatnot can be found at CCA Action, organised by tool. For example:

'Bristol Food for Free is an online database of edible plants in Bristol. The website generates a map of any of the 113 species identified by its authors. Plants rooted in private lots are included if they branch into public space. The website also contains photo-documentation of potential planting sites selected for suitability. Bristol Food for Free allows inexperienced foragers to find fresh fruits and vegetables quickly and safely. Kayle Brandon and Heath Bunting are part of Irational.org, an international network for information and materials for the displaced and roaming. Irational.org supports non-corporate art and engineering work.'

and

'Pants fitted with high-tension cords, metal clips, and a reinforced seat, the Flee Suspend Pants can be attached to almost any surface, transforming it into a space for people to swing. Wearers are equipped to modify any space they enter just by untying the suspenders and attaching them to the reinforced seat. The design supports up to 91 kg of weight, so there is no age restriction for swinging on the Flee Suspend Pants.'

Today's Theme: Choice

As many of you will know, last night the Monster and I got refused entry into a venue where our mates were DJing, for no valid reason other than the bouncers were most probably homophobic, and complete misogynists. This annoyed us somewhat, as not only was our night thrown out of kilter but we didn't get to support our friends (or any of the other local up-and-coming DJs). Bah.

So, I wrote to the promoter. Though understanding of our miffed state, and having had some of her own friends not allowed in, she did seem rather reticent to admit that there were other choices the organisers could make. Yes, they are a small event, and thus cannot dictate to a big club as to security policy. But if the big club is going to be rude to your clients, to the point of not letting them enter, then MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T DEAL WITH THEM. As this night was originally set up BY WOMEN with the aim of providing a space for female DJs to play, it seems ironic that they are now holding it in such a sexist venue (ie the only 'women' we saw let in were barbie-types in small skirts and big heels).

Which made me, for not the first time this week, consider the choices we all make, and the concept staying true to one's own morals and ethics. Don't support people and institutions who cause you more trouble than provide benefit. Don't do it just because its what everyone else does, just because its a brand name, just because its an easy option in the first instance.

All I need is a badge-maker and a screen-printer and I'm all set for my new revolution. Anyone for a kiss-in?

Somatechnics Conference 2009 *CANCELLED*

FYI, from the organisers:

Dear everyone,

It is with great regret that we write to inform you that unforseen circumstances have rendered necessary the cancellation of the proposed 5th Biennial Somatechnics Conference scheduled to take place in Sydney, April 16th-18th 2008. Our institution is currently immersed in the lead-up to a major restructure which commenced officially on January 1st. Unfortunately, the situation is such that there are significant uncertainties about future funding, as well as other structural issues which impact on our ability to proceed with our plans with confidence. We are extremely disappointed by this unforseen turn of events and would like to offer our profound apologies for any inconvenience this decision may cause. We are hoping that the current situation will resolve itself over the course of the coming year and that we may be able to consider rescheduling this event for 2010. We will of course, keep you updated, and thank you in advance for your understanding.

With apologies
Nikki Sullivan, Samantha Murray and Jessica Cadwallader

BTW, THE HOUSE IS ON THE MARKET!

You can look it up on REIWA... or contact me for details! Woooooohooooooooooo! First home open on Sunday 8th, but can organise viewings at other times.

I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got*

I do not have a house of my own.
I do not have a husband, or wife.
I do not have any children.
I do not have any sort of real career.
I do not have any money to speak of.
I do not have any of the traditional markers of 'success'.

Maybe it is a post-birthday flip-out. Or a reaction to being refused entry to a straight club last night for no valid reason (not trashed, not trashy, not rude, not against dress code). Maybe its just what happens when I am surrounded by a lot of people with mortgages and proper jobs and weddings and baby plans- and that's just the queer folk. Maybe its just not having 'my tribe' around me but...

I could have had the Hallmark card. I had the makings of it: fiance, plans for a 'family', a job in finance. By now I could have four kids and a fifteenth wedding anniversary and a part-time job teaching and my house in the 'burbs half paid off. But I left it because I didn't want it, and still don't. But then sometimes, for whatever reason, I begin to feel insecure, wonder what I am doing with my life -- the script gets re-started and suddenly I am crying over breastfeeding and real estate agents and wanting a share portfolio.

Which is awful, and silly, because this is actually what I chose to do BECAUSE ITS WHAT I WANT. And it serves me well:

I have the gorgeous Monster.
I have an amazing family and unconditional love.
I have a spectacular set of loyal, creative, dynamic and generous mates.
I have an amazing queer community across the globe. And an artistic one too.
I have enough money to survive comfortably, for the most part.
I have the freedom to change location.
I don't have to worry about my public profile as such, or whether my workmates will see me dancing to the Spice Girls at the Court.
I don't have any obligations to children or pets.
I have a good education that enables me to access a wide variety of possibilities.
I have initiative, spunk and wit, and I will realise my plans and dreams in some way or another. I do every day.

And I do not want what I have not got.

*In the words of St Sinead.