gaydog.neocities.org ✿✿✿✿✿
April 26, 2025

recently started reading French writer Marie NDiaye's novel "My Heart Hemmed In" (the Two Lines Press english translation). i'm not finished but i'm really enjoying it. the novel begins in a nightmare where the protagonist in midlife, established in her profession as a teacher, suddenly starts to experience extreme, violent prejudice from people around her. it's never fully explicated what this prejudice is ostensibly about, although NDiaye has apparently given interviews where she relates it to France's rightward turn into increased racism during her life, which led her to emigrate from France although she's considered one of its foremost living writers. the protagonist and her husband are assaulted in the street; her husband suffers a critical injury in one of these assaults, and everyone agrees he "can't go to the hospital" because of his unspecified social difference, that the danger of abuse in the medical context is too great, so he spends the majority of the book lying in bed seeming to slowly die, but that is only the beginning of the violence. the rest of the novel so far also dissects the narrator's own relationship to France's institutions of cultural authority, snobbery, prejudice and class privilege in her life up to that point -- the people she herself has chosen to shun -- while she also navigates this almost supernatural hostility. my favorite character so far is a sex worker from the protagonist's hometown, approximately the same age as the middle-aged protagonist, who it's revealed has been chilling with the protagonist's ex-husband, set up with a laptop in the protagonist's former home office in a dragon-print negligee to do admin, financially supporting the ex-husband off her SW income. when the protagonist stops by and discovers this, the sex worker is just like "hey girl it's been so long what's up" and doesn't seem to notice or care that the protagonist is offended by her existence.

somewhat related: the UK's really going off the deep end re: transgender people in a way that terrifies me. i'm not sure whether they're exporting it here or we're experting it there, since trump on behalf of the heritage foundation prefigured this ruling by seeking to retroactively invalidate trans people's corrected IDs in the US, similarly to how the UK has just made its "gender recognition certificates" issued to trans people functionally useless. if you're here you're probably already paying attention to this somewhat but did you know that the UK's supreme court ruling is also intepreted by the administrative apparatus to functionally ban women-only organizations from including both cis and trans women and men-only organizations from accepting both cis and trans men? this means that no one the UK government claims jurisdiction over is actually fully free to make choices about associating with trans people even in their non-work, non-school, non-governmental life. the UK government is also interpreting it to mean that trans people are not just mandated to use the wrong bathroom, they are actually specifically not allowed in those bathrooms either. i still hate even talking about "bathrooms" related to transgender people because it's such a blatant psyop designed to make you associate gender nonconformity with shit and piss, middle school humiliation, and the smell of bleach, when what all queer people need most for our dignity and continued existence as a culture is unions to protect from retaliation in the workplace and rents controlled at a quarter of what they are now, those are our community's most critical issues just like other working-class people. i really think the average person anywhere in the world does not give this much of a fuck about making trans people miserable and it's representative of the failure to ensure functioning democracy to be governed by elitists without personalities who tyrannize people for gender wrongthink. one hopes this UK ruling will face some legal challenge but what kind of hope do we have for a meaningful change for the better in this busted world?

a passage from "My Heart Hemmed In" that i couldn't help imagining when i read it as a conversation between two trans people:

“Everything you’re being made to endure,” she says, “as if you were guilty, but people were forbidden to punish you and so everyone’s taking their vengeance in their own way.”


[...]

"We’re exactly like you,” I say.

“So you think,” she says, “but, oh God, you don’t understand, and I don’t know how to… You’re so different, so profoundly…excessive, but either you don’t know it or, who knows, you refuse to see it, although, once again, this isn’t exactly about you as such, and…and the disgust and hostility you inspire in some people, not me, oh not me, is something you can’t feel toward yourselves, at least not yet, and… Forgive me, this is so hard.… You have something in your face that people can’t stand to see…not on any face… and it’s something truly repugnant, not for me, no, not yet, although…that will come, perhaps [...] nothing supernatural about it, only the same spiteful revulsion that everyone’s begun to feel toward people like you and your husband, which keeps growing and growing, and well yes, it’s not easy to resist, it’s not easy at all…”

“So it’s a sort of fashion, is that what you’re trying to say?” I ask.

“No,” she answers, “it’s a rage!”

and just for fun here's a bit from The Thief's Journal by Genet, which i also haven't finished:


Like a rock in a river, pride breaks through and divides contempt, bursts it.

i'm hoping that this reads as me drawing a venn diagram rather than a parallel, because that's what i intend. we can't lift our own burden alone, so we have to help our neighbors shoulder theirs.

i love it when i discover a new author who's written several books and i get to look forward to the rest. anyways if 1 person is reading this for some reason, have a good day.

ppp
April 19, 2025

the sun isn't really out -- the sky isn't blue -- there's a monocloud, but it's hot and humid and everything is bright with this directionless but laser-intense spring light. the magnolia trees and forsythia are blooming, the music with spanish lyrics that i have no name for is blasting from passing cars and houses on the corner. i finally got a pannier rack for my bike so i was able to use the panniers my grandma gave me as a high school graduation present to get some groceries today without sweating a hole in the back of my shirt. nothing is really ok in the world but saturday is my only day off so i have no choice but to relax for a minute.

i don't know why but i wanted to write down and post my current recipe for michael chow. loosely based on a "viral tiktok recipe" for salmon rice that someone showed me a few years ago. since i'm old and my brain runs one letter at a time like a punch-card computer, i had to find a version someone wrote down instead of screaming into a ring light, but it's a good recipe. the tiktok version requires day-old rice (that you warm up with a couple tablespoons of added water), which is supposed to absorb the flavors better, but i usually make it with fresh rice and i like it that way. makes one serving because i'm all alone in the world, and i wouldn't necessarily feed this to someone else since it's not fancy, but it's a comforting simple meal for me that i can season with pretty much whatever seasoning i'm into lately. in this version, the nutty flavor of the brown rice accentuates the sesame in the zaatar / mellows out the citrus, and fish + citrus is a classic pairing of course.

- 1/2 cup brown rice
- 1/2 cup lentils
- a few drops of olive/canola/whatever oil (optional, for extra softness to the rice)
- 1 packet salmon (optional, for extra protein and nice texture)
- several Tbsp mayonesa con jugo de limon (also optional, and i guess you could use normal mayo but why would you even buy that if lime mayo is an option)
- orange pepper (a spice blend from Badia that contains some salt but is more citrusy than salty)
- zaatar (sesame seeds, sumac, thyme, etc.)

parcook the brown rice (and oil) in 1 cup of water plus a little extra for 15 minutes. add the lentils and 1 more cup of water, return to a boil, and simmer for 25 minutes. once it's cooked, put whatever amount of rice/lentils you want to eat as one serving into a bowl, then dump in the salmon packet along with its juice, add the lime mayo, add lots of orange pepper and lots of zaatar, mash it all together with a fork, and eat.

April 6, 2025

last night i watched La Casa Lobo ("The Wolf House"), a 2018 film from Chile by Cristobal León, Joaquín Cociña + Alejandra Moffat -- i feel crazy writing just 3 names because i can only imagine there was a larger number of skilled people involved in realizing 75 minutes of nonstop experimental animation. according to wikipedia it took 5 years to make in a workshop. it feels like the kind of work that is only possible when it's supported deeply in a community -- i have a bit of a hole in my heart from watching all the artists i know here in the U.S. lose hope that support like that is possible here, so i'm grateful to the chilean institutions that funded this. the framing of La Casa Lobo is the narrative voice of the German-speaking wolf, a patriarch describing his cult/colony of Germans in rural Chile, "misunderstood" by some but in his telling beloved by the "Chilean peasants" around them. this is based on the real history of Colonia Dignidad, a cult-operated farm compound surrounded by barbed wire with a watchtower and searchlights, where the sexually abusive German patriarch coordinated the torture and killing of leftists for Pinochet. the protagonist is Maria, a young German girl whose life in "the community" is constant hard agricultural work, including caring for pigs. she lets two pigs escape and is threatened with solitary confinement, but manages to escape, she and the wolf tell us, but the camera reels in circles around an enclosed space where stop-motion images coalesce and dissolve into each other nightmarishly, as though she is in fact in a cell, watching her dreams of freedom take shape on the walls and floors. in her dreams, though, she struggles with the authoritarian culture she's inherited. the two pigs accompany her, first as playmates, but she eventually starts to play at being a dominating parental figure and becomes their captor.

i was reminded in some ways of a favorite work of mine in a different medium, Yvan Alagbé's comic book École de la misère (which is going to be Alagbé's second book to get a U.S. translation soon, I'm hyped) -- also an empathetic and perceptive outsider's gaze into the white family and its victims, and a story about how love is limited by and structured by colonialism. the comparison is maybe a bit self-indulgent of me because they are so different -- not just medium and continent, but they're just very different texturally -- Misery of Love (the English title!) is a bittersweet (heavily bitter) account of the end of a marriage and what comes before and after it, controlled and reflective, a sequence of bursts of cold reality in greyscale, while La Casa Lobo is a viscerally claustrophobic childhood in constant nauseating motion, the walls of the house sprouting wigs and saran-wrap fake water and real fire and detaching limbs as the wolf whispers in your ear. i loved both of them! check them out.

Feb. 28, 2025

added poetry index

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Feb. 22, 2025

torrey peters for nymag ---

"To feel so alienated in the culture of my birth suffocates differently. [...]

Somehow, I betrayed myself: Having approval from the government allowed me to believe in that approval, to find a sense of safety in it, so that now, when it is being taken away, the loss hurts and I am resentful and afraid. No wonder I pass for CIA: a true believer in my country’s say-so, eager for a hug from the State Department.

By the last police checkpoint, I began to consider whether anything taken from me so easily was ever mine in the first place. Whether one should pragmatically navigate bureaucratic documentation for reasons of safety but refuse to believe in it — whether denied or, especially, when granted. My state of being, or anyone else’s, isn’t really a question of what’s in the little blue book. It’s everything outside it: the nations and genders of birth that seek to follow wherever we go. I had planned an escape, but there is no escape — except for what we reject in our minds and create with one another.

last night on the train home from work, a quiet friday-evening mostly-empty train in the dark winter night, i started reading marguerite duras' 'the war' -- the title given to the english translation of 'la doleur', a collection of texts that are about her experiences in france during and after nazi occupation, beginning with an account of the repatriation of her husband, who survived dachau and wrote a book of his own about it. in the book she's petrified with grief and fear and love for him, with an intensity that is reflected in the chaos convulsing the world around her -- saying that she's living only to wait for him and that she'll die when he returns. (apparently they divorced amicably once he had regained his physical health.) she says people died in the camps after germany's surrender because the gaullist government prevented the resistance movement from participating in the liberation, because it would have undermined their authority. her husband only survived because people were looking for him and waiting for him and had money to care for him, so it's impossible not to think about all the others. it is hard to read. i thought about the AIDS generation here, people who are not remembered because their families cast them out and all their friends and lovers died. i had forgotten my phone at home and when i got back i opened up social media and saw steve bannon doing a nazi salute at cpac. his eager smile and gooey nod, his stumpy arm. i can't share a planet with these people. i don't have any dignity as long as these people are on podiums.

reading about post-WWII europe reminds me of the stories of migrants today, the people europe and the US are salivating to terrorize and incarcerate, to collaborate with violent regimes in brutalizing - the ways hospitality is offered and denied based on status, how the wealthy sit on piles of violence everywhere, how borders exist to keep victims in their reach.

today i'm too tired to get out of bed.

/
Jan. 31, 2025

even more fomo about not having bought everything at the shortbox comics fair after checking out this banger by val k. wise, "in fair verona." it's about two girls who are summoned by the daughter of The Queen Of Blood, and are told that one of them will be her bride and the other will be her plaything. you can't really say much more about what happens without giving it away, but it's completely my shit and i think you should read it. the art reminds me of some of the most artistically mature moments of classic shoujo -- the setting is impeccably drawn, costumes and faces (and masks) are expressive parts of the story. the story runs on nightmare logic, and the plot moves just slowly enough to feel decadent and give itself emotional weight. i can't stop thinking about it tbh!

^^^
Jan. 19, 2025

today is the sunday of MLK day. i am struggling not to feel discouraged about peace and justice in this country, in this world. across the street from MLK's home church in ATL on thursday, a man named Cornelius Taylor was killed by a bulldozer the city was using to crush homeless people's belongings, which they call a "cleanup." this is something we do here where i live and all over the country: leave people out in the cold to die and starve, and kick them while they're down too. i feel like i was lucky enough to be raised to see kindness so clearly, and i don't understand what we're doing instead. the incoming federal administration is wildly, overtly corrupt and wielding an internet juggernaut of misinformation-bordering-on-brainwashing and surveillance, beyond anything dictators of the past could have dreamed up, which essentially burns the future as it runs on indescribable amounts of pollution and the devastation of the Congo. here in the U.S. people are addicted to their fences and their hatred, they refuse to learn to love, they find it impossible to become adults and instead become pigs who cannibalize their neighbors. in the past i've said, at least i'm ready to fight, but i don't feel ready to fight. i feel alone and helpless. i'm not really ready to give up either, i guess. this week i donated to taawon because when we pay sales tax or any other kind of tax in the U.S. we fund the U.S.'s crimes against palestine. i also plan to donate to my local food not bombs, and it's part of my goals/hopes for this year to be able to make time to get involved.

___
Dec. 7, 2024

i think margot ferrick wrote this story that i'm obsessed with right now. the way it's posted without attribution on a page that's partly about indexing others' writing makes it a bit mysterious. the way margot's work approaches the abjection and pathos of childhood so unflinchingly is really fascinating. (is it normal to feel like childhood was all about existential terror? this story makes me feel like someone else gets it, at least.) the narrator reminds me a bit of the narrator of 'I Live In The Slums' by Can Xue.

!..
Oct. 15, 2024

just checked out the shortbox comics fair and impulsively spent a bunch of money on digital comics. i really liked Child of Wrath by Michael Furler, which is a refreshing and fun slice of life about a kid doing chores in the garden, framed by judgmental/controlling/weird adults but focusing on her imagination and her questions about the world. and Queen Harvest by Daniel Shaffer which is lovingly illustrated in a painterly-comics style, about a baby alien having a big day.

i wanna go back and buy more.

!!!
Sep. 29, 2024

THANKS FOR HELPING ME FIX MY EXTERNAL STYLESHEET ALOE <3
i know tiny pixel fonts is the y2k aesthetic but as an authentically vintage lifeform i am opting for big text.. i gotta get an eye exam