I’m reading Nick And Charlie by Alice Oseman (the prose novella starring the boys from Heartstopper) and I have discovered that British kids use the word “revise” to mean what American kids call “studying.” Which felt really weird to read, because I couldn’t understand how the things the kids were doing related to rewriting essays. Then finally after like 50 pages I got it.

So I'm continuing to dig through Lana Del Rey's back catalog to refamiliarize myself with records I loved at the time but haven't heard in years and also to catch up on the ones I missed because my music energies were going in different directions when they came out. So far, as I mentioned on here, I was blown away with how front-to-back solid Born To Die is, with every track at least a solid banger if not a stone classic. I've liked the others I've listened to since then, too -- some quite a lot. But Norman Fucking Rockwell is the first one I've gone back to and had the same experience as I did with Born To Die. As in: "Whoa, I remember this being good but I didn't remember it was THIS good!" Every fucking track is a solid-gold banger -- even the fucking SUBLIME COVER is great! How is this even possible? Having said that, I remember I ranked it as one of my best records of the year when it came out. Still, though, I was not prepared. Sheer genius.

I’m gonna have to write about this later when I have more time (sorry I have neglected you lately tumblr), but I just wanna say real quick that I listened to the Free Cocaine singles compilation by the Dwarves recently and it blew my mind all over again. Despite their problematic lyrical content and imagery, I loved this band in high school. But I never noticed what a strong queer and even trans vibe their sex-obsessed lyrics often had. It made me feel like I was hearing them for the first time all over again.

I’ll just leave you with one example. With the life experiences I’ve had, it is all but impossible for me to read this song as anything but a closeted trans narrative:

OK, more later!

Honestly what the fuck is wrong with people who are hunting around social media looking for random trans people to harass and insult?

What I usually look like when I’m working on writing stuff. No, it’s not glamorous.

Trying to look cute on a Sunday afternoon to go get tacos with my wife and a friend of ours.

Tonight at Taco Bell, a student-aged woman working there asked me my pronouns, because she had initially called me ma’am but “didn’t want to go misgendering anybody.” Then later, a 60-ish woman who’d complimented my hair then asked if Sara was my sister. I grinned and said, “No, she’s my wife” as Sara started to giggle. The woman thought she’d offended us, but really we were just amused because that exact mistake has been made about us at least half a dozen times before, and it’s hard to believe anyone really thinks we’re sisters when we don’t look much alike at all.

Anyway, that’s how different generations are responding to my gender presentation in the world, at least this week.

If you’re wondering whether a girl is straight or not, and she likes to post pictures of herself and her female friends all cuddled up with captions like “love you to the moon and back my forever sweetheart”…

She’s DEFINITELY straight. And will be SHOCKED that you thought those posts came off queer in the slightest.

Harry Nilsson has a song, his voice breaks at 2:05 Something about the way he says, "Don't forget me" Makes me feel like I just wish I had a friend like him, someone to get me by Leaning in my back, whispering in my ear, "Come on, baby, you can drive" But I can't

When's it gonna be my turn? Don't forget me When's it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it Fuck me to death, love me until I love myself There's a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard

I know no one will see this because no one reads my tumblr and that’s fine but yesterday was my wife’s 40th birthday and I took her on a day trip to DC and bought her a bunch of stuff and a couple really good meals and now I’m sure we won’t have rent money and the thought of calling my dad and asking him for the money I’m short is giving me major anxiety even though I am pretty sure he’ll give it to me. Imm honestly trying to keep my parents pretty far away from me these days because I know they don’t support my identity or accept me as their daughter and I just can’t stand continuing to show up for the emotional abuse and unsupportive attitudes when I’m 47 goddamn years old and it’s been going on all my life.

Buuuut on the other hand I also can’t seem to make ends meet even though I have two jobs and a goddamn Patreon (which has 12 supporters — who I love but I need more and have no idea how to get them). I probably need $3000 a month for Sara and I to live pretty goddamn well and I can’t fucking get there no matter what I do. She can’t work full-time due to ongoing chronic health issues and I just want to give her a good life without having to panic about money all the time but I can’t seem to do it. And worst of all, then she blames herself and says I’d be better off without her as a “financial burden” or whatever, completely ignoring the fact that her emotional support is the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit right now. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want her to feel that way, but sadly, I understand why she comes to those conclusions. I just want to create a situation where she has no excuse to feel that way and I can’t.

This cis lesbian who is married to a trans girl my wife is friends with was all gung-ho about helping me do a new resume so I could get a better job, and back in January we got together on a weekend and worked on stuff and got a resume for me about 80% done. She sent me home with homework I needed to get done so we could finish it but life kept getting in the way and I needed to make money NOW to make sure our power didn’t get turned off, we didn’t get evicted, etc, and before I knew it three months passed and now the girl who was helping me isn’t talking to me anymore and I think she’s offended I didn’t prioritize my resume but it’s hard to do that shit when you’ve gotta work 40 to 50 hours a week just to keep from losing your place and whatnot. And I think the dream of making an actual good resume so I can try for better jobs is dead now, or at least that I’m on my own, and it’s so hurtful and terrifying but I guess I brought it on myself.

And right now I’m sitting on the floor of my bathroom typing this instead of showering because I have to go work with my one employee (yes I am a MANAGER at my main job and I’m still struggling this hard) who consistently refuses to gender me correctly and is also terrible at her job and I’m just fucking dreading it. So here I am.

Anyway, thanks for reading. If you got this far and want to help a struggling queer aging trans writer lady and her disabled trans queer wife cover our goddamn bills and save me from having to be further indebted to my dad who never genders me correctly and is killing my soul, well, you can paypal me: buzzorhowl@gmail.com (yes my deadname is on that account, no they won’t let me change it) or Venmo me: @Drew-Necci. But don’t feel obligated. I know shit is awful everywhere in America right now.

Regardless, thanks for reading my panicked rant. Love you.

Very emo playlist happening at the pizza by the slice place. I for one am stoked.