You and this blog have been on my mind most of the last couple of days. I always fret about what to say, not knowing the how or what or whether to say and I have drafts piled up. But I’m restless with my self-censorship and missing my fellow queer cats and gender rebels in Corvallis. Job applications and interviews have me extra weary of professionalism and decorum. I’m nearly fresh out of fucks to give. The selfie game is not one I generally play but when pigs fly and the mirrors are cracked with the luck I make, I let the occasionally photo also fly. Note the wrist brace, evidence of long persistent pain, and the lipstick, evidence of jonesin’ for a thrill, or don’t.
You put your face on your books. I can put mine on my blog. I usually feel like I have to post at least one photo myself smiling but I’m not feeling that right now.
***Morning after postscript: I never post non-smiling or goofy selfies. I’m still surprised and impressed this happened…and determined to write frequently enough that these photos are soon buried.***