site space

summary: fall arrives. I left and returned home and bought a camera. I'm trying to solve my problems with voice and music and how my spaces look and feel.

site space

(this section from 9/24/25)

I spent a good deal of time working on the website today during my downtime at work. I'm feeling more confident about it, I think. The more I write, the more I can, and the space fills and fills and becomes less empty and intimidating.

The potential of a large, empty event space is overwhelming. When I think about an arena or an expo center, I imagine it absolutely brimming with booths and people flitting between them, excited to see everything and to receive a pamphlet that'll live on their fridge or in a pile on their desk or under the seat in their car. I don't usually imagine it empty. Vacant and echoing.

I once had a job doing janitorial work at one of those places. I emptied trash and cleaned the glass windows on the doors. I picked up trash out of the parking lot with my bare hands – my supervisor drove us over in a gator and told me that my task was to pick up small litter. I wasn't given any tools except for a bag. The sky was clear and the sun was so bright. But steadily, I made my way from one end to the other, scanning the gravel parking lot meticulously in narrow rows. By the time I reached the entrance on the east side of the building complex, I'd filled the bag a quarter full with scraps of receipts, bottlecaps, bits of unidentifiable plastic, a few screws, cigarette butts, a couple insulin syringes, an old disposable razor head, and other such items. I don't remember why I wanted to tell you this one. Maybe just to make a moment in history real again.

vacation

I went to LA. I went to Denver. it feels like I should have a lot to say about everything that happened. spending time with the love of my life. staying with my best friend. communing with the goddess of eyes and teeth. being priestess for the sacrament and the knots that were physically tied with our blood binding them, freely given to a god of love and living distances. there should be so much to say. I'm not a big believer in "should." it wore on me for years and years.

I open my mouth. a small orange butterfly crawls out and takes flight. there is so much to say – to tell you what I think, to prove that it happened, that I felt such a love for life in every moment with my girlfriend, that I was happy and entirely unbothered, that the sign of the abyssal net was cut into the flesh of someone I love dearly and that, with force, the words HOLY and T4T were driven into my legs, twice each. nothing comes out, other than a couple tears and, "it meant a lot to me."

pentax

I bought a used film camera in LA for $60. the lens was another $40. it's a Pentax MZ-50. small, comfortable, nice to hold, almost reassuring to have around my neck. I've been into photography my whole life, thanks to my wonderful mom. it's a hobby we share. I've never shot on film before, though, not since I was small and carrying a disposable green drugstore camera.

click. whirrr. bvvvv. click. whirrr. it's like holding a small, docile animal. a pigeon or a chicken you've raised, accustomed to touch, cooing or clucking contentedly in your hands. BVVV-bvvv. click. whirrr. it loves you back. I took my film to a lab. I shot some of a roll on psychedelics. I'm anxiously awaiting for the results, the scans of my first pictures on film. I'm trying not to pin my hopes too high on how they'll come back, but there's two pictures I'm really hoping come back well – one of my girlfriend dressed beautifully, reclining on the couch, and one of my best friend October by the river, in the hour where I was teaching it how to become attuned.

back

I returned home and the air became autumn while I was away in the desert country. the mornings are colder here. even in my bedroom it's several degrees colder than it is outside at any given moment. what gives.

boston does love me, I think. the sea-wind knows my name well. the great mother in the ocean knows that there is much to love here and wants to cheer me up. I spent time with my roommate and though returning felt bittersweet, it was a nice time. we're good friends with one another.

I spent a saturday alone. I intended only to do a couple errands, which I accomplished, but the city was so full of life. there was a brass band festival called Honk!; it was the first time I'd seen it and everything felt really sweet. I visited a flower shop and bought some nice tangerine-scented soap. I restrained myself from asking the boy working there if he knew how much blood he had inside him.

I bought a book of poetry by Nora Claire Miller called Groceries. it's very skillful work. I suspect that they "get it." by this I mean something about the spiritual or metaphysical. I've yet to read the entire thing. I spoke to a man who sells sarees. I'm thinking about getting one. how few things I have to connect me to my heritage and culture. it would be nice. I also met my neighbor. she's cute and she has soft lips. I want to hurt her very badly. she's interested in needles. I think we're going to make that happen sometime.

date

ceaseless flirting
the waves began to swallow the wharf
steady rain. I burst into flames
she burned brighter though
dry corners in secret stairwells
corner alley heaves wrought iron fire escape columns up to heaven
the weather hangs its quilts like a matter of fact
find you

one day find me find
I am either whole or nothing at all
I may be nothing at all

music, voice

I'm struggling to be satisfied. I've been inspired by some different artists lately and I'm trying to learn how to scream. I've never screamed in my life, not really. I've tried, it just hurts me. it coincides with voice training, which I'm giving another go at. they are both the same kind of thing. it is frustratingly paradoxical that you don't need to push more to go higher and clearer.

in fact, it's the opposite: both are positions you have to relax into. there is still some tension to be applied, but first you must learn how to relax your throat. I understand what they mean now by "you can't force it." mechanically, you can't, you kind of have to go the other way. it's like everything is inverted. less air to go higher. softer. you don't actually need that much air. everything comes from the diaphragm whether you're aware of it or not, but the conscious support is taxing to keep in mind and that's the exhausting part, at least for me.

making the breakthrough is frustrating in itself because it annoys me how accessible it actually is to achieve. but if you, as a trans woman, are wound so incredibly fucking tight year after year and era after era, you probably are new to the concept of "relaxing." you are likely not good at it and you have to start learning how to do it. otherwise your pretty little head is going to pop right off. there won't even be any fanfare or confetti, it'll just come loose one day. thup! just like that.

now that I know how to access a more relaxed state in my throat, I have two things I need to do – consistently practice all the time (frequent short stretches and also try to build endurance) and find a few target voices. because now that I'm here, I want to identify qualities that I like, that way I can achieve them. even listless, frustrated with progress, and a little depressed, I think I can summon the determination to do both. I just need to take the time for it. I'll do that.

similarly, I'm frustrated with where I'm at musically. lately I've been listening to a lot of yam lynn and lexycat again, who are a couple of my all-time favorites and sources of endless inspiration for me, plus some Kumo 99, trying to piece together what elements I like from their music and trying to make something more aligned to that. I also started getting into FREE.99, who are really good and whose music I'm doing a similar thing with. a girl I know makes cybergrind and deconstructed club under the name failure to thrive. we spoke a little recently since I'm trying to understand how to make more abrasive-sounding things. something I struggle with is having enough interesting variation in a track. I'd really like to get past that barrier.

I made a noise track and put it up on soundcloud and a couple friends liked it. I have a problem I'm trying to solve where I feel creatively spent once I sit down and all my works feel hollow. it feels counterintuitive but I'm going to try a strategy where I make music while listening to music and maybe do other tasks. I wonder if it's the same thing as the voice problem, where pushing harder only strains and frustrates you, while relaxing into it might be the best approach. I suppose we'll see where it goes. :) either it ends up being a bad idea and I need to try something else, or it's a great idea that works and unlocks my potential and cures cancer and gets a million beautiful women to love me all the time always.

readers

I wonder if anyone reads these kinds of things. I think they do, I see it on other blogs. some part of me worries that I'm not putting enough of my heart out there. that I'm not being vulnerable enough. I have some strange history with emotionally unavailable women. I don't want to be like them. I think I want to open up to you more. to tell you how beautiful I am and how I look when I cry and my most private thoughts. how I like to hurt and be hurt. how I love and want to be loved. how I care for others and how badly I want to be cared for. I only have so much time here.

when I hide my vulnerable pieces, I worry I'm living a lie. even if nobody sees it, it'll be proof that I lived and survived and thrived. that I'm more alive than ever. that every effort and all the kindness of the world was worth it. the world is so full of love. I'm so very certain of it. I have a determination that burns bright and that others see.

I write so gravely, so seriously. other parts of me don't, we have different writing styles, you know. but we look so different that it would be worthwhile having a separate space for us each to express ourselves. October questions if this is really necessary, but I'm thinking it might be the best thing for us.