Mon genre? C’est moi.

It disappoints me that actual nuclear reactors that used organic coolants used horrifically carcinogenic PCBs instead of canola oil or something. The idea of a giant nuclear deep fryer is alluring and it’s a shame it’s never happened.

[Starting up MS office, to the tune of the ‘90s Powerwheels commercial jingle]: “Pow, pow, powerpoint!”

“We’re missing the James Bond marathon on TNT” is honestly a great bit of one sentence worldbuilding. Every time I think of that line from American Beauty my mind transports me back to 1998 and I can’t wait for the 15 Days of 007.

One of the best parts of being off complete vocal rest is that my life is no longer a continuous try not to laugh challenge

Based on the ads I see, I can only assume that San Francisco’s economy is entirely based on AI hype horseshit. The tech bros did this place dirty.

Yo check out my JBS Haldane fanfic

“I died as a twink, and became a doll. When was I less by dying?” -Rumi, probably

So apparently the answer to the question “How long will I take to go through a party size bag of fun size snickers if there are no outside influences” is 28 days

Misc San Francisco pics from the vocal flap snipping trip

My latest medal earned in the long fight against dysphoria. I spent trans day of remembrance slogging home from VFS, which seems an appropriate enough thing to do.

You know it’s getting serious down on the reactor analysis farm when I switch from synthwave to trance.

Since the point of general anesthesia is to make your body temporarily inanimate and therefore easier to work on, in a sense all gender affirming surgery could be considered inanimate transformation.

Karma is my boyfriend, in the sense that it’s an abstract ontological possibly that doesn’t actually exist

Fictionmania posting will continue until morale improves

We can have a little bit of electoralism, as a treat.

Spider season has passed away. Mushroom season is upon us once again.

The Wild Robot is great, but Fly Away Home will always be the quintessential “accidental goose mother figure teaches goslings to migrate” film for me.

Cutting off your nose to spite your face is stupid. You should instead cut off a relatively small amount of your nose to make your face cuntier.

Really looking forward to the day I can have time for fun hobbies instead of bogus hobbies like calling my senators

I miss posting my face and how it’s changed in the previous year on each HRT-anniversary. Maybe one day I’ll feel safe enough to do that again. In the meantime I survive, despite the fucksticks’ and fascists’ most sincere wishes. 4 years down.

Despite everything, there are still places of profound beauty in the world.

I’m objectively not good at baking, but I do know one piece of good advice: Whatever amount of vanilla a recipe calls for, always double it.

I have to admit this mural in the Tot Lot goes pretty hard

It feels strange paying for another year of liquid nitrogen to keep my last gametes around a little longer in a world that’s rapidly collapsing. Still, it would feel more bleak to throw them away. Sometimes hope shows up in the tangible things I do more than it actually does in my conscious mind.

We’re now into the “blink and you miss ‘em” part of the Himalayan blackberry cycle.

In my head are two wolves. One wants to write dank transformation smut. The other wants to write slick engineering reports. The wolves are girlfriends.

The American government sucks. Ignore it and be horny, which is great.

Sabrina Carpenter’s new album would objectively be better if she’d fully committed to the puppygirl bit with the album cover

We survived the 737 MAX and my son got some good images out of it too

I realized today that we’re now further from the release of “1985” than that song was from the year 1985. I’m clearly not as young as I used to be thinking things like this, but at least I’m the correct gender now.

The profoundly trippy thing to process about FFS is how I still look like me. I think my brain just couldn’t process the idea of *me* looking unambiguously feminine before and instead I imagined looking like someone else. But no. I’m just me, and I’m a girl. It’s bonkers in the best possible way.

The curse of aging is that you eventually find the random EDM songs you liked as a younger woman get reappropriated as kids’ movie filler. The latest for me is “Purple Hat” in the new Bad Guys movie.

What they don’t tell you when you get that bottle of Hibiclens is that you’ll just keep doing gender affirming surgery until the bottle is used up. Anyway FFS went well last week.

Washington State Ferries are very cool

Chappell Roan: “I sing that Lana song that makes you cry…” Me: “Chappell you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“It’s life, but not as we live it…”

How I feel getting all dolled up and cunty as society collapses around me

Post-op, ergo propter op

Moment of Zen

The spelling may not be on point, but the artist gets full marks for effort.

Really I think you ought to be able to be John Malkovich in every John Malkovich movie.

I hosted a viewing of The Abyss with the council of elder transsexuals in my phone last weekend and I'm now commemorating that event with a meme

“What is it?” He asked. “The stuff that dreams are made of,” she said.

Modern technology has granted humans the ability to send men to the Moon and to make men into women. I assume the goddess Artemis is well pleased on both accounts.

What the actual fuck. This country is run by fucking gangsters. I’m so fucking sick of this shit.

Fictionmania posting will continue until morale improves

I'm getting ready to do a bit more fictionmania posting, so now is the time for me to point out my John William Waterhouse fanfiction. It'll knock your socks off if you're into that sort of thing.

We learned this morning that there’s no legal recourse for tens to hundreds of thousands of trans kids who will now be forcibly denied transition by their state governments. I’m sick of having to go about my day pretending everything is fine. I’m sick of this country becoming a cartoon dystopia.

Be like Himalayan blackberry bushes. Beautiful. Relentlessly clinging to spaces whether you’re welcome or not. Spiny against your enemies. Delicious.