Maybe ... one more thing ... before the next thing hits

I'm ... a looser. At least, in case people got this nonsense worming through their heads, that would be my male self. That now in a more literal way. It is ... my past ego. Something I ... well, I'm not sure how real ... I've shed it from me. But nonetheless ... my life prior to transition is basically just a bag of memories - none of which do particularly pertain to myself as a person. Perhaps a drone that somehow navigated life collecting stuff. Memories. But ... even that would be giving too much of ... an existence. For my taste at least.

Since then, I barely ever had an occasion to think of myself as a looser. I mean, for once that would have been against the therapeutic stuff I've been going through. But also was I, for real, dipping and diving into a new part of myself. Sure, I suppose, failing in such and such many ways to properly ... well, feminize myself I guess.
And ever so often I have to look up from whatever I got my head into - and notice all the ... dirt. Figuratively and Literally. Rough edges, we might say. Shortcomings. Well, I suppose, just some unglamorous truth behind an ought to be glamorous facade. Whatever. It's nothing that gets me concerned because ... I'm not perfect and I understand how to deal with that. Sort of. Most of the time. Enough.


And that's kind of the thing. I'm not losing. I just had a whole lot of uphill nonsense to get past. And apparently there's still some left.

But with that being my world, keeping a good spirit despite whatever and ever and ever so on, I have to admit, to myself, that ... I can be proud of myself. I can own my accomplishments - taking things for what they are without losing my shit over things I cannot change. Reasonably anyway.

But ever so often it's like a page gets flipped in my head and I have to look at something - perhaps just briefly, sometimes - and that whole optimism gets replaced by a deeply sigh.

And ever so often those brief glimpses are all about sex and debauchery - getting me into an "oh yea, right ... that's like ... a thing I guess" kind of mood - but before I can reasonably write about it I've forgotten again and have my head way up some other thing. And so, I suppose, overtime a passively growing understanding is being developed - so whenever the veil is lifted I have something better than an unprepared shock to go off on. And so I'd drop a comment on it, here and there - but I think, so far there's always been some angle to it - some angle through which I wouldn't address the thing directly. And how could I? I don't even know how real it is. For all I care ... it might just be some hypothetical supposed to bolster my understanding in places where I don't have proper experience.


And I think at this point I also come to talk about "Dance of the Vampires" again. I personally enjoy it because it resonates with me. That's ... the music that is, not so much the visual context ... something I don't think I really get or at least got out of anything else. I mean, whenever it might be a theme, it's all about bottomless debauchery that is dangled in front of the audience's faces like a piece of meat on a hook held by some bigwig we all know lives a life in measures beyond our reach. It's always that and then there's all the drama mixed with kink baiting and stuff - and how am I supposed to enjoy that?
Well sure - the simple answer is: That's what Porn is for ... because anything else is just ... not even real. Well ... there's Animation Porn ... which isn't really real either - but at least it too gets to the fucking point.

Which reminds me. Today was another day that didn't pass by without some awful take being somehow flung into my synapses - through more or less voluntary exposure to outside influences (yes, I've been watching some YouTube again) - and maybe that's in part what the last bit was about. The thing is, it also fits into this somehow. I mean, there's a battle that's fought, by one side, with false impressions. Calling it "Armchair Psychology" would be incredibly generous. I mean, as a Trans Person, the matter of other people reading "facts" onto your behavior is something that just ... doesn't jive. At least when it targets us and we know, because it's about us, that it's wrong. But other people don't know that and eventually all it takes is a 'maybe' ... to convince them that there might be - or perhaps even definitely is - more to it.

And then things get complicated. And that's just the ugly truth. You might put a mask on it, spray some pleasant scents onto it, maybe dress it up in something fancy - and things might be fine for a while. Until all that shit starts to rot off. I'm ... at least under the impression that it is so. It seems logical. I guess at the base of it is the belief that truth itself is like a searing fire that eventually eats its way through anything that isn't truth itself. Which may also be why we like to decorate these ugly truths with pleasant ones. Or at least things that are difficult to disprove. Metaphysical ideas or whatever. But whatever.
The thing is ... people, and that's painfully apparent, will get it into their head that they figured something out. Uhm, sorry - I'm rambling.

Anyway. In a sense ... I find human existence to be disgusting. In a sense ... because it's mostly just sad most of the time - and that makes it difficult to just be ... condescending about it. But maybe I also just haven't seen it all just yet. Well. I mean, sure - there is a LOT of disgusting stuff going on. More than anyone of us might like to acknowledge. But that's also ... totally unsexy to write about I suppose.


But yea. That's kind of the thing. Though with some reservation, I'd agree with the general idea that I should try harder to not come across as the opposite of what I claim to be. But then again ... I am who I am, whether I claim to be or not. But sure ... it bothers me somehow. Yet on the other hand ... it also kind of doesn't.

I guess I'm meant for greater things. Or ... I suppose I think that, at least. But, unless I totally go off tracks rambling about whatever - or hmm ... even if I do ... . Well, it's like I'm pushing something ahead of me. Though, it's more like - something is walking ahead of me making it look like it's being pushed somehow or whatever. And that would be some fucking orgy. Yes, sure, an imaginary one. Or not even that. Maybe not even hypothetical. Just a figment. A whisper perhaps. A Fata Morgana. It's like ... "there". Apparently ... what I try to get into. The exact ... circumstances or conditions elude me. Just as ... what words to use to ... fathom it.

Now, I thought then, perhaps it would make sense to do some "let's settle some ground rules" to just leave all the sex stuff aside for a while; But that doesn't change it. I mean, a realistic frame of reference for these things doesn't really seem to be what keeps people busy. So I guess it's settled then that the thing is an inevitability. What's left is to ... embrace it.

So, maybe this is then one of those "it's weird what tricks the mind can play on you" type of situations. Like, one day I might look at my future through one lens, the next through an other - both peeks into seemingly different realities - and yet, the only reason one wouldn't see them as one is a lack of imagination. Or understanding.
But - that's neither here nor there.

I mean, I must wonder if I even do believe in Orgies. I mean, it's silly when you think of it. Sometimes at least. Like, I wouldn't know how to navigate one. Though I also kind of don't know how I might ever find myself in one. Sort of. Though I do sometimes find myself starting one. In my imagination that is. Or ... get started on? Is that how ... to say it?
I mean, the funny thing about Orgies is - that it's really, in a way, the quint-essential caricature of human existence. I mean, it's like ... "Sex" ... but "More" ... or "Bigger" or ... "but Epic". And what people do to get there is really just ... increase the body count. Or what have you that somehow ... might go along with it.
I mean - I'm feeling a bit cynical about it because something about it is bothering me. But all that aside, one thing I really do know about is that ... for me it basically comes down to putting my pussy on the line. And sometimes that feels like a good place for it to be - and other times it feels like ... there's just no way.

Maybe the basic problem at hand is that we aren't casually having enough Orgies. I mean, by casually doing things - that's how culture evolves. And what goes in, makes or breaks it. I mean ... I can only imagine ... . Like all the things I wouldn't want to have a part in. I mean, that's the whole story at the end of the day. The things that go in. And in things will go.


And sure. This ... the stuff I care about here ... might not even qualify as a picture. You might yet taste it, but ... then your head kicks in ... and as it lingers on the wrong stuff the taste turns our. But I get it. Some things are just meant to be savored. But no taste ever lasts. Yet we hold on to them. Eat the same thing ever so often. Or drink. Whatever. And we like it for some reason - but still there's that one or two times that really stand out and ... the rest is merely a shadow of it. And how does it feel? Given that you're old enough to have one, maybe two such moments. That they're gone. Or if you're not - imagining it. Knowing that it'll just be a brief moment of bliss ... that then fades into memory, covered up by the mundane again?

Well, for me - I guess when it comes to truly savoring that which my palette enjoys - I have discovered some redundancy. And outside of that, I guess what really comes down to is to ... truly consume something. To make it a part of yourself. So that whatever you might crave - yet to be found out there - could truly only be a shadow at best.

Sounds weird, maybe - and certainly isn't meant, I need to emphasize I suppose, as some sort of ... matter of sucking the world dry of joys so we might just exist without any urges or cravings or such. That's ... kind of silly - and maybe not feasible. It sure would be depressing I think.

You could call it 'the Secret' I think. To manifest ... 'it' ... is a process of living. A search for inner peace that connects with something out there - and eventually it'll make its ways into your hands ... as though you're given the literal fruit of fucking life itself ... and when you bite into it ... you get a taste of what it means to truly be alive.


So, yea - it's like a trick, I guess. Some psycho stuff conditioning/delusion or whatever. But well - it's a neat story anyway. And one not all that far from the truth. For what is life in the mangle, but a stream of ups and downs? Could it ever be different?
I mean, think of it. If things always went up - and only up - wouldn't that just make for a new ... flatline?

But sure. It's weird. All of it. Existence, Life, ... Pleasures. What even is Joy?
Well - one thing about it is certain: It sucks - in a way - when everyone around you has a different idea of what it is. So that they'll engage in things that you think are just silly, and nobody is left to enjoy the thing you enjoy ... with you. What else to say about it?
And how easy it is to wish ... to be "normal". But wouldn't it be silly if everyone just stuck to it because they thought that the other wanted it?


Anyhow. The short of it all is, that on and off I do get concerned, that the people I do try to connect with, those I for some reason do really care about - personally - have their own ways with these things; In a way that ... kind of goes against me. Or how to put it. It makes me feel silly at the least. But then there's also not a whole lot to say. So it would be only if I'm in a position from which it makes sense to comment on it - the thing that I wouldn't like to be a part of anyway - that I'd get to think of it. And so ... it's really just that. Perhaps just a fantasy that pollutes the mind. Whether or not people can find pleasure therein, well, is entirely besides the fucking point.


Anyhow. I hope that this does clarify some things. To me it is a step outside of my comfort zone in that I didn't even know where I was going or how to get there. But I've gotten used to stepping into the unknown ... and a way just magically somehow unfolding before me.

And yea, that's more like my comfort zone. But also, I think this is enough for now.