I’m hopping on a train to NYC tomorrow morning at butts o’clock, for a quick visit to consult a doctor about surgically improving my mortal form (nothing’s Wrong with it now, I just think this bodymod would suit how I’m living)
my logical brain: ok nothing bad is coming, this is just a chat, you can say hi to a pal on your way back, and tbh nobody is going to say “you suck, no [thing] for you”
my cardiac rhythm: 🎼 TRIP-A-LIT 2 3 4& 5, TRIP-A-LIT 2 3 4& 5
waiting room TV for visit #2 is playing an ad for “1-800-GOT-JUNK” #synchronicity
today at MoMA, Picasso’s “girls of Avignon” was talking to yours truly, in a way it hadn’t on past visits. not in A Trans Way, but … not in an un-trans way?
think: a full-body portrait of 5 sax-working wxmyn—all drawn with “unusual” proportions, “nonstandard” draftsmanship, “striking” facial construction—but toward a goal of portraying a Truth about what kind of thing a human is.
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