Les said, the better II

I haven’t had a face-to-face conversation (or a longer than 5 minute phone conversation) with anyone in 30 hours, which is the longest stretch since I escaped Nebraska in May. I feel so much calmer. I have a solution for Cola’s visa problems. I’ve done some chores I’ve procrastinated on for ages (but not cleaning the bathroom.) I feel more secure in my identity. And I read French or Foe from cover to cover. Apparently the insane gender binary / male dominance of the language that I so love (a group of 999,999,999 women and one men is gendered male as a whole) is reflected in the culture. I’ll be expected to flirt with men every time I step outside, according to this book, which also gives instructions on how to behave if the ambassador of argentina invites you to dinner.
It’s only for a year. I want to move someplace where I’ll be expected to flirt shamelessly with women. I’m good at that. Well, better, at least.

Tag: Celesteh

cola and ellen are both out of town. i plan to spend this weekend getting caught up on french homework, but i may be (easily) talked into partying too. drop me a line

Tag: Celesteh

More tragedy at the boy scout jamboree. Aside from the electrocuted Alaskans, another guy died from a heart attack while walking around and 306 people got heat exhaustion, many of whom collapsed and some of whom had to be taken to the hospital. It doesn’t sound like they were very prepared . . . also, god is smiting them for being bigots.

When I was in 6th or 7th grade, I asked if I could join the boy scouts. It’s one of several times in my early adolescence when adult males laughed at me. Another being the time I tried to talk to the freshman football coach about trying out. So I’ve been neither a boy scout nor an american “football” player. I have, however, been a girl scout. That kind of sucked. I could tell that my brother’s troop was having a lot more fun, but, on the other hand, they never went to the jamboree.
Tags: Schadenfreude, Celesteh

So I was whining (as I am wont to do all too often). I explained to Rudy that I wished my parents had named me something from which one could derive a nickname. Samanthas can be Sam. Nicoles can be Nick. Rudy pointed out that the name “Les” can be derived from my name. And, he pointed out, “Les is more.” AND it has fewer letters than “clst” and so wins for being a TLA (sorta) too. So, feel free to call me Les. (Or Loretta.)

Maybe, if I had been born male, I would sit around wondering about how I’m really not sporty and I detest competition and I make “eep”ing noises on occasion and I would think perhaps some odd mistake had been made.
Tag: Celesteh

Kyle Gann just blogged about art/crit theory and how it does(n’t) apply to music. “The painters, performance artists, et al, assume that every piece is political in intent, and critique . . . every work in terms of its positioning along a social spectrum. In so doing they indulge an elaborate word game virtually unknown in the music world.” He writes. Hasn’t he read McClary’s Book Feminine Endings? All music (not just wordy stuff like mine) is totally analyzable from this perspective and indeed should be analyzed in this way. The idea of “pure music” as an apolitical expression of pure beauty came from the 19th century and should be left back there where it belongs. Chord structures, triumphal bits etc all evoke certain ideas. They have political meaning. A traditional piece where everything keeps returning to a I, a dominant key and a set chord progression also says something about a social order and a forward or backwards thinking idea. Conversely, Lou Harrison’s use of 12 tone structures was also political, although for him, tonality equaled harmony and peace, but the 12 tone stuff represented war, capitalism and domination. Tuning systems play a huge political role for him and others too.

I can’t imagine thinking about music solely in terms of sounds without deeper meanings, but I can’t imagine approaching anything in an uncomplicated way.
Tag: Celesteh

Felt like I was getting an ulcer, but now I feel better. Although, when I start thinking about stuff, I have to go eat more yogurt. I stress too much.

Danica lent me the memoirs of a MtF woman and I don’t remember the title and I’m too lazy to look. There’s a tone of certainty throughout the book. She knows absolutely what her identity is, it’s just so impossible that during her youth, she felt she needed to change it. A biological male wanting to be a woman is so transgressive, however. You’d have to be pretty damn sure. She’s moving from a high status to a low one, culturally, which is hard for culture to accept. “She should have been a son” is a normal phrase and contains a certain amount of praise. “Tomboy” is a normal term. My grandma was all happy once because somebody told her she drove her car like a man. However, compare that to “throws like a girl, ” “lady driver,” “little girl bike club.” An association with female is an association of weakness. Of course every woman wants to be a man. It’s penis-envy that drives her whole being. And then s/he’d get all that male privilege, etc etc etc etc. (Trans people are far more likely to be victims of hate crimes but whatever.)
My gay boyfriend says that he would be trans if he were less lazy. (Hacker credo: Laziness is a virtue.) So he’s my gay girlfriend and I’m his lesbian boyfriend, he explained. w00t. I don’t know how much of a bright line there really is between butch and genderqueer and genderqueer and ftm. Which is to say that I actually don’t know. How is Lynne Breedlove identifying these days?
I need to spend more time around dykes, I think. Or eat more soy yogurt. It’s full of acidopholus! And estrogen!
I read something yesterday about men and women having different hairlines, so I’ve spent all day staring at people’s foreheads and peaking at myself in the mirror. I’m so vain. My forehead is kind of on the squarish side, I think. I have a hint of an adam’s apple. My eyelashes are ten miles long. I feel like the protagonist in Bone Dance sorta, when appearance is described. And I’m electronics and audio technology. But I’m so so so skinny, so I’m not often called sir anymore, since I’m too old to just be a lanky boy. People don’t talk to me like they tend to talk to women, nor do they talk to me like they tend to talk to men. Everything seems to be working out right where I am. So why does my stomach keep hurting?
Tag: Celesteh

I once had a spiritual experience. I was in Notre Dame (if you’re going to have a spiritual experience, pick a sexy locale) in 2001 and I lit a candle in front of the statue of Joan of Arc and I was somehow directed to write an opera about her. I’m still in the research stage of this project. Fortunately, she is the figure with the most information available about her life before modern times. We know more about her than we know about Jesus. I’ll try to keep to the important bits.

Joan of Arc was born a peasant girl during the Hundred Years War and was pretty much a normal girl, although she prayed a lot. Around the age of puberty, she began to hear voices. They told her to keep her virginity and that big things were afoot for her. A bit older, her parents arranged a marriage for her and she went to court to get out of it. Around the age of 16 and again at 17, she went to the local nobility and explained that she was going to save France from the English. The second time she did this, she successfully persuaded the local soldiers. Somebody gave her both a dress appropriate for the bourgeoisie and soldiers clothes that were small enough to fit her. She was practicing with the soldiers and learned to use a sword. The local nobel sent her on to the Dauphin, who eventually sent her to Orleans as a cross between an army captain and a mascot. Her title was Jeanne la pucelle which means “Joan the virgin.” This is often translated at “Joan the Maid” but “maiden” would be a better translation. It’s not the celibate form of virginity appropriate to nuns. It’s the virginity of youth. Her path was a balance of religious and secular. Although her voices came from God, she went to a nobel instead of a priest.
As she was living with men and doing things men do, she took to dressing like men. She lead Charles to Reims for his coronation (behind enemy lines!) and participated in the ceremony dressed as an army captain, in men’s clothes, with her military banner. She demanded and got special placement in the ceremony. She got special placement in a lot of ways. She wanted to dress as a man and do things men did but still identify as female. She wanted special treatment. She got power through this exceptionalness combined with military victory. It may have been possible for her to just dress as a boy and enlist. But she didn’t want to be a boy. she wanted to be a woman in man’s role in men’s clothes. This gave her far more power than she probably would have garnered for herself as a male (although she was a military genius and may have been able to climb up through the ranks).
she was not a feminist. She told other women to go home and get married. Her role was only for her. She was not blazing a trail. She was creating a place for herself and herself only. She demanded that society accommodate her and grant her special status which she did not deign to share. God spoke to her and gave her and her only special dispensation to cross-dress.
She was eventually captured and put on trial. They convicted her of dressing like a man. She was possibly mislead as to what it would mean to sign a full confession and so did, agreeing to only dress as a woman from then on. A few days later, she was again in men’s clothes and was burned at the stake. She was very sick at this time and would probably have died shortly anyway. However, she made the choice to burn rather than dress like a woman.
I can’t say I blame her for that.
I find it annoying that she didn’t want to pave the way for other women to follow her, but she was in rather precarious position, straddling religious and secular, male and female. There wasn’t much room for others to join her in this balancing act.
So let’s call Joan butch. She wanted to be a woman but dress and be treated like a man. Her culture couldn’t really accommodate that. Ours isn’t so great on it either. And why should people like Joan (and me) be running around demanding special treatment? Yes, I’ll be in your coronation or I’ll be your bridesmaid, but I won’t wear a dress. Ok, so in Joan’s case God told her to, which seems to count for something.
I dunno, in some ways it seem to be more mature to change to accommodate society rather than expect everything to change to accommodate you.
and now for some navel gazing: maybe the label doesn’t matter as much as body image matters. i can change how i feel about the way i look or i can change the way i look. i never felt out of place at mills. i never felt out of place among lesbians. so i guess this means i’m butch and not trans . . . and i just happen to wish i looked a lot more like a boy and had a goatee. and i’m also really lazy and pain adverse and everybody in the world has body image issues. and so . . .. I dunno, I’m going abroad for a year so there’s not much action i could take anyway.
also: I scapegoat str8 white males a lot for the problems in the world and it’s true that a few of them do seem to go and casue a lot of trouble, but certainly not all of them do, not even the majority. i need to knock that shit off.
Tag: Celesteh

well, i did pretty piss poor on my oral exam. (Imagine this exchange filled with ums and massive mispronunciations) «Je vais etudier la musique d’Innas Xenakis.» «Qui est-ce?» «Il ecrivais musique electronique et musique concrete.» «Music concrete? Est-ce que musique concrete?» «uhhhhhh. on uzas umm ‘tape recorder’ . . .» «Magnetephone» «on uh us un magnetephone et uhhhhh non non non»

Music concrete was a french movement in early tape music where the composer would record real-world sounds and manipulate them (or not_ and splice the results together to create a pice of tape music. It’s a bit beyond me to say that in french. Oh, and “uzas” is esperanto.
I’ve got the flu and emailed my professor to ask if I can take the midterm next week. I slept from 2-5 pm today and only got up because Cola made me. I’m about to go back to sleep now.
People at school said nice things about my hair. I think I might have gone a bit too short. I’m so used to arguing with hair people that I didn’t realize that I should listen to claire. I told her I wanted to look like a boy and then when she was done I said I had wanted shorter. My head looked a lot squarer before she took the rest off, alas. I was kind of hoping at school today that somebody would tell me I was in the wrong bathroom, but actually that would be really awkward and is really unlikely at Berkeley anyway. I’m not sure about this boy thing really. Today a guy grabbed my study notes without asking and started copying them. I know not all boys are assholes but so many are. Although I’m already kind of obtuse and demanding. My plan right now is to try going out in drag a few times to see how it fits. Except I am never going to pass for a boy. I sooo don’t have time to worry about this. In fact, I really want to nap.
One story first though. When I was a freshman in highschool, I had worked out that I was queer, but this was very confusing as I was sooo male identified, so in my head, I self-hatingly referred to myself as a ‘fag’ and hurled anti-gay male epithets at myself . . . except I wasn’t a gay male and they didn’t make sense. So I was sort of confusedly thinking of myself as a gay man, which didn’t fit at all. and then I was wondering if I was supposed to be attracted to drag queens or what.
That story would be a lot funnier if I was peppy enough to tell it right. When I recover, I will post a long rumination about Joan of Arc.
I feel like such a freak. they need a third set of bathrooms for weirdos who can’t make up their damn minds already.
Tag: Celesteh

I just lost my colo. Fortunately, David is going to let me use his server. yay. In the meantime (until I get off my lazy ass), all my domains are down. Alas.

Tag: Celesteh