Category Archives: me

butch, identity & a little catchup-ketchup

So far the festive season is festering away … I’ve moved house, changed my psych meds … what a brilliant time of year to do it all eh? I’ve also landed a v cool editing contract. What I haven’t done, is hang out online and I ain’t here for long today.

First things first, I need to reblog the following:

Symposium #1: What is Butch? on Butch Lab:

… and I also need to mention that in the process, I stumbled upon Jolie’s very excellent turn of phrase, “identity geeks.” Not only is it uber-cool, it also applies to me like a comfortable pair of ripped and faded jeans. (The ones I wore to East London Pride this year).

So Google has banned ads for the book Queers in History, because of the ooooh-verboten word “queer.” That falls under the ‘sexual content’ no no, although the book is entirely about queer figures in history and in no way about sex. This brings me on to another of my favourite rants i.e. how very, very, incredibly fed up I am of my identity instantly being associated with sex. Sexuality is a far broader matter than the sex act, thankyouverymuch world.

Back to butch … OK, here I need to add the disclaimer, again, that I am in no way trying to diss anyone’s interpretation of it, simply define my own. You google butch, you find a lot of bdsm, masculinity (radical or otherwise) and … butch cock. I hate typing that phrase.

I am not a man, I don’t want to be a man. I don’t even want to be a woman the way most of society defines us, but I am a feminist and so “woman” is what I (re)claim. I’ve said a lot on this subject, so I shall move on …

BDSM. No. I see a whole bunch of bloggers who identify both as butch and as Buddhist also way into bdsm, on a very conscious and analysed level. I would simply like (as little as I like discussing my sex life publicly) to state that I am indeed butch and a (bad) buddhist, but I am not into bdsm – not one bit. And I (we!) have extraordinarily fabulous sex.

That is all.

Beyond butch. I read a cute FAQ which stated, amongst many other things, that the mental health of queers is far better if they are out and open about their identity. It struck me that this is in fact true for all of humankind. If you know who/what/where/why/how you are and stand with a measure of surefootedness on this planet of ours – you’re a pretty well-adjusted specimen. Perhaps, we just don’t know when to be satisfied and content, perhaps many of us (*points to self*) just keep on and on questioning until we’re convinced we can never be happy. But that is a whole other discussion and I am digressing fearsomely.

Being an identity geek, let me claim the following:

Human [it’s not under threat, so not too militant about it]

Woman

Feminist

Queer

Lesbian

Dyke

Butch

Gay

Geek

Bookworm

Editor

Writer

Thinker

PTSD person

Speculative fiction fan

Alt.indie music fan

That list could go on forever.

Ima stfu now *grin*

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crunchy words

i wanted to get lost down unmarked streets me, my camera and all the other freaks well i dunno a better way to spend a day anonymity is such a subtle shade of grey i got big city vision, small town blues i remember empty places in the language i use my eyes have packed their luggage, time isn’t on my side cheap philosophers keep telling me i shouldn’t run and hide from conflict or the past with all its blunders my lens rapes and my pen likes to plunder all the dreams that i dreamed with a stolen head all the screams that you screamed when you noticed you were dead all the lies that we told so glibly to ourselves all the wallpaper we chose for our own private hells i feel far too far away today trapped in some remote fishtank haze singing dirges about donuts to their sugary wives while they wallow in the dregs of their sugary lives and you, you haunt me with a shipwrecked smile some toast and the ghost of your fatal child i bought a vegas mask from a junkie on the run with no time to tell the world whatever he had done he just coughed – listen brother, your song makes no sense and your ass is badly scarred by that barbed wire fence your lines have slowly slithered from the sane to the deranged your hairstyle’s fairly normal, but your eyes are rather strange i ignored him and snorted three vanilla pods and checked my rearview mirror for the shape of angry gods the scarab beetle hiding in the pocket of my jeans doesn’t give a damn what any of it means.


me vs sarcasm

alright i’m english by birth and sarcastic by nature, but believe it or not, i actually try hard to transcend both. not that there is inherently a major issue with being english, i just prefer being south african. and sarcasm … well, it really is the lowest form of wit, [oscar wilde] isn’t it? and it’s largely indulged in by those of us with that uniquely irritating combination of self-deprecation and arrogance. if you find it funny, you’re probably one of those people, or sucking up to one of them.

i really wish i’d stop doing it. i wonder if there’s a pill?

along with sarcasm in its purest form, comes criticism veiled in words. growing up around it is like being raised by wolves. you wind up tough, sure, but not overly saturated with affection. i am no stranger to the wolfsnark and have many of its traits.

It comes from the ancient Greek σαρκάζω (sarkazo) meaning ‘to tear flesh’ but the ancient Greek word for the rhetorical concept of taunting was instead χλευασμός (chleyasmόs) Sarcasm appears several times in the Old Testament,; for example it seems to underlie the rhetorical questions of Achish, king of Gath::

Lo, you see the man is mad; why then have you brought him to me? Do I lack madmen, that you have brought this fellow to play the madman in my presence?
—I Sam 21:10-15[6]
[wiki-wiki-wikipedia, of course]
sarkazo … i doesn’t like it!
i’m going to keep trying to stop doing it, but i seem to have become thin-skinned and defenceless against those “witty” little barbed words that tear at my flesh …
the score? saracasm: 98746 me: 0
:/

way outa my customary paradigm yo

so i went to gym.

if you don’t know me well, you won’t realise that what i just said is akin to my having declared i’d just been to jupiter.

i went to gym with my girlfriend on sunday morning, after much consultation and some window shopping and borrowing and reassurance, because i had to effing well wear shiny lycra tights man! or whatever you call ’em. anyhoo, reluctantly clad in shinytights and stuff borrowed from my v patient girlfriend, off we went. i lasted a whole 10mins i think, on the treadmill (walking lol) and about 8mins on the bike. my gf did loads more and i perched there watching her – frankly, i felt aroused.

never woulda thought i’d end up in a gym – joining up was my first ever foray into that world of mirrors and steel and sweat.

only she coulda got that right ;)

(but someone needs to point me at some butch gymwear).


dearheart write to me soon or i’ll rip your entrails out

mmf. interesting, delightful and slightly disturbing to get blasts from le past hey? that was a postcard i sent to a v dear friend while she was on a dig in jordan and i was living/working in stellenbosch in the western cape. we caught up again recently – we’ve known each other for 23 years and it’s thoroughly awesome to roar with laughter at emails.

it can’t have been v long after sept ’93 that i moved to kleinmond. at some stage, i lit a bonfire on the sand and burned all my personal stuff – letters, journals etc.


completely boring blog post

aliwal north 2009 – u. kelly

i’ve said it before and – being a repetitive bore – no doubt i shall say it again – pretty much every journey is epic to me.  well for a start, everything’s a journey … and i include transit lounges happily.  this morning’s wooo epic odyssey, was a 15km drive to take the bake to the mechanic and then a 15km drive back with him, to drop me at home.

we got some rain last night – fairly unusual in these parts these days – and they’re still tarring the road off the main road and so i still had to use the other road, which is another dirt road and one that turns into a very bumpy, holey, slidey thing after the tiniest amount of rain.

[and speaking of rain, there’s a rainbird calling.. burchell’s coucal, for any lurking twitchers]

so, you know … red dirt roads in the rain … you keep the vehicle in 3rd gear plenty and brake as little as you can.  this was handy as it was the bakkie’s brakes that needed mechanical attention.  tooled along merrily smoking and there were a fair few other vehicles on the road – one 4×4 slewed slightly alarmingly behind me.  it was ok though and to be honest, i don’t think my brakes were bad at all – just starting to make *that* noise, that brake fluid won’t soothe and that tells you it’s time to … wf, this is boring … anyway …

stopped at the garage and the mechanic hopped in – he’s a cool guy actually.  he shares his name with a very old line of euromonarchs – but it’s not that uncommon a name in his motherland, so don’t get excited [like that is even possible in this blog entry].  he came to africa by ship many years ago and landed up in a eurocolony that isn’t one anymore … when they were forced off their farm, his father dynamited it.  if i remember correctly, he killed himself, but i could be imagining that.

we didn’t talk about all of that today anyway – we mostly talked cars and we also compared food we’ve tried.

me:
zebra
most antelope round here
warthog
bushpig
snake
shark
croc… etc.

him:
ok he just won, hands down and he told me some very fun stories about what his troepies fed him in angola, what he ate without knowing it in china – and so on.  i hardly noticed the potholes on the way home, though i swear i was focusing well on the road.

that’s it really.

it’s thundering now and frodo’s worried about it, as he always is.


gneiss shoes

i felt almost cool this morning, wandering along with my rasty one ‘old school’ graff shirt on, fake oakleys, baggy cargo shorts and the weeping wonderwoman flip-flops … it was sunny, but gently so – a good day, or so you’d think.  actually right now things are so freaking thorny that the best thing to do *is* to just focus on little and good things.  i’ve been doing some badly drawn cartoons again too, which i’ll inflict on the net whenever i get off my lazy ass enough to scan them.

i want a big mac meal.

i want sushi.

mostly, i want some gentle time with my gf.

dolphins hurtled around the waves today and i sat watching them with a good friend, having an intensely sad conversation about her family and mine.  juxtapositions.

bbc world showed scenes from the kumbh mela today and i wished they’d managed to film h – she got married there .. joyful madness.

if you haven’t already, read cory doctorow’s ‘little brother’ – you can download it for free on his website – his opinion of copyright is also a must-read..  viva mister doctorow.