We fall in love by chance we stay in love by choice
How you express love can make or break you as a human being. Work hard always to shine your brightest and do your best. Choose love over fear. Never lose your faith in yourself, and do not lose faith in each other. Never lose your faith in love.
I sat on my nice new glasses and pretty much irreversibly destroyed them. The lenses are scratched and chipped and the arms are all bent wildly askew. Then, being blind and rampaging the streets of an unfamiliar city, I fucked up hard trying to get home alone and got pretty profoundly lost. I ultimately figured shit out and returned hectic and hyperventilating. Dylan gazed at me gravely while I described my misadventure with melodramatic gestures and overemotional words. When I was done, Dylan said, “Christ. What would you do without me?” “Roll around naked in a ditch,” I replied, “until I starved and died.” “Hm,” said Dylan. “So would you though,” I added. Dylan seemed about fit to refute the remark, but then intelligently desisted. “I love everything about you,” he said instead, which were of course exactly the only correct words. Because long term relationships take work. The point is to relish the work. And when you relish the work, you’ll relish each other, and the love will burn true and continue.
Great friendships begin with the shake of a paw.
Aw how oh my god cute is my goddamned husband. Every time he’s gone I miss him huge, but pretty much the second he’s back, he does a bunch of aggravating things he isn’t even aware of, he doesn’t listen to me at all when I try to talk, he says and does all this loud stupid shit instead. All of this drives me “crazy,” I about wanna kill him at once, like immediately, and I romanticize about the time when he was gone, when I was sweetly missing him. True love kids, there’s the secret, it’s the fucking real deal. When they say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” they were kidding, but actually, they weren’t. That said, I can’t wait till this adorable motherfucker is home again, if only so I can brazenly wish he was gone, so that I could go back to the missing.
It can sometimes take almost two hours for me to give Dylan a perfect haircut. I drink mimosas, listen to audio book horror and science fiction short stories and furrow my brows while I work. As the late afternoon San Francisco sun shines hard down through glass upon us both, I gaze intently at Dylan and sigh. “What,” says Dylan. “I think, darling,” I reply, “it’s safe to say that you will live and die and no one else, not ever, will have this haircut.” Dylan smiles and I kiss him with quick instinctual affection upon the tip of his nose. In this age and day, achieving true originality in any form is difficult. One must celebrate every instance, and love lights the way because love is the source of the cure.
Nothing is mundane when you’re in love. Every moment has a brilliant shine and opalescence to it that renders the normal magical and the loved person extraordinary. You see in their eyes not only the idealized version of yourself but also the pure recognition and unshakeable belief that that is the person you will one day become.
I’ve started including “According to my calculations” sincerely in daily casual conversation. Also Dylan just caught me rocking out to Air Supply’s “Lost in Love.” He looked at me, shook his head slightly, and grinned. In former days, Dylan would’ve revolted, he would’ve covered his face with his hands, and beseeched God hard, but now he seems to be accepting and embracing shit just as it is. The progress of love. Soon you arrive at all the improbable turns and impossible twists as they happen, and you accept everything. You enjoy shit just as it is.
Awesomeness by Rafael Mantesso.
Our main thing is to hunt down Drag Queens we like and approve of such as Jinkx Monsoon, Detox, Sharon Needles, Alaska Thunderfuck, Manila Luzon, April Carrión, Raja, Ongina, Nina Flowers, Carmen Carrera, Alyssa Edwards, BenDeLaCreme, Adore Delano, Willam and Milk.
The rest of the time we are daydreaming about hot Jamaican men and seeking out cool underground Dancehall sounds.
Concerning just general daydreaming and what with the World Cup’s recent conclusion, James Rodríguez and Neymar also massively factor. So too in life’s other important areas do Yukio Mishima, Daniel Day-Lewis, Viggo Mortensen, Franz Kafka, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Kurt Vonnegut, Vladimir Nabokov, Oscar Wilde, Voltaire, Bertrand Russell, Will Durant and Bruce Lee, this whole paragraph and last part might only actually be me.
Friday July 18 2014 is my first Trannyshack, a David Bowie Tribute hosted by Raja, what could be more appropriate, we have meet and greet tickets, excitement, come, put some Ziggy into your Stardust, dig.
If starship travel from our
Earth to some far
star and back again
at velocities approaching the speed
of light made you younger than me
due to the relativistic effects
of time dilation,
I’d show up on your doorstep hoping
you’d developed a thing for older men,
and I’d ask you to show me everything you
learned to pass the time
out there in the endless void
If we were the sole survivors
of a zombie apocalypse
and you were bitten and transformed
into a walking corpse
I wouldn’t even pick up my
I’d just let you take a bite
out of me, because I’d rather be
than alive alone
If I had a time machine, I’d go back
to the days of your youth
to see how you became the someone
I love so much today, and then
I’d return to the moment we first met
just so I could see my own face
when I saw your face
for the first time,
I’d probably travel to the time
when we were a young couple
and try to get a three-way
going. I never understood
why more time travelers don’t do
that sort of thing.
If the alien invaders come
and hover in stern judgment
over our cities, trying to decide
whether to invite us to the Galactic
Federation of Confederated
Galaxies or if instead
a little genocide is called for,
I think our love could be a powerful
argument for the continued preservation
of humanity in general, or at least,
of you and me
If we were captives together
in an alien zoo, I’d try to make
the best of it, cultivate a streak
waggle my eyebrows, and make jokes
about breeding in captivity.
If I became lost in
the multiverse, exploring
infinite parallel dimensions, my
only criterion for settling
down somewhere would be
whether or not I could find you:
and once I did, I’d stay there even
if it was a world ruled by giant spider-
priests, or one where killer
robots won the Civil War, or even
a world where sandwiches
were never invented, because
you’d make it the best
of all possible worlds anyway,
we could get rich
off inventing sandwiches.
If the Singularity comes
and we upload our minds into a vast
computer simulation of near-infinite
complexity and perfect resolution,
and become capable of experiencing any
fantasy, exploring worlds bound only
by our enhanced imaginations,
I’d still spend at least 1021 processing
cycles a month just sitting
on a virtual couch with you,
watching virtual TV,
eating virtual fajitas,
holding virtual hands,
for the real thing.
“Scientific Romance” by Tim Pratt
to his wife on Valentine’s Day
Otis makes me smile and laugh every day all day long. Sometimes I even clap my hands. Meaning his wonderfulness drives me literally toward applause.
When asked what’s my favourite expression of his, what do I like about him best, I was stumped for answering because I love literally every last goddamned thing about him. I mean I even love his anus. The other day I loudly praised its adorableness. Dylan shook his head, resigned, baffled and disbelieving. “You hear that Otis,” Dylan said, “she really likes your asshole.” Dylan’s good at speaking wryly, he has uselessly perfected wryness, what with mostly just me around to admire the achievement.
To try to answer the question though, as far as favourite expressions, moments, things, I think it’s when I spy Otis from behind lying there at total attention, paws outstretched, up on the elevated puffy big dark brown fun fur bed gazing intently out the window, guarding the house from every possible evil outside attack. Or when he’s all quiet, earnest and depressed, lick lick licking his big sweet paws. Captain Cleanpaws forever on the job. I jump then at him and ambush him with attacking cuddles, gleefully shouting, “Well hello there” or “I love you, I love you, I love you!” Otis flings his head backward to look fervently my way, startled, watchful, urgent, his canine eyes big and comically wide. He lunges at me at once, fearfully, crazily, to lick lick lick my whole face and neck and hair, and sneaks too some halfway nibbles and bites helplessly in there. Then he feels guilty and worried about the helpless bites so he lick lick licks me everywhere to cover and make up for the mostly harmless excitement driven biting.
Then I howl at him and rile him good and he howls back and I howl and he howls and we howl together like two crazy lunatics in love. Dylan nearby regards us, gazing askance, resigned, baffled and unbelieving, locked forever as he is in his state of equal parts resignation, wryness, affection and defeat. Dylan knows I’m mad for him too but Otis kind of makes me delirious. Plus don’t get me started over the nightly spoonings. Dylan’s a bit replaced in this regard. I put Otis into spoon position and he’s all warm and soft and extra bed time malleable smoosh. I fall asleep smiling holding both his very clean paws in both my love clenched hands. Then Otis end of the day loudly happy sighs and sometimes snores adorably too, softly dreaming into night.
In the morning, I wake with my arms still tightly around him, both paws in both hands and we’re still spooning. He doesn’t break from form the entire night! My heart beats full from such perfection. I could cry that dog gives me such delight, it’s a good thing Dylan isn’t the jealous type.