rimbaud
03/04/2005 03:01 a.m.

what is there to say about everything that ever was? ask john milton, who made me nearly lose my shit in front of someone i idolize [in a sense that adheres fairly closely to the literal meaning of the word] and about seven other people i completely disregard. ask rimbaud, who is the milton of my misguided spiritual brothers and siblings.

ask me: i am sick to death of being a woman in a man's world. i love womanhood and that inmyself, but i covet all those things i can never have as myself. the ability to really cross lines of gender; the ability to embody power, sexual energy, life, rage, anything, as a person rather than through the perverting context of femininity, percieved or real. it is a lens through which society will always percieve me. if i am sexual, it is interpreted as sexuality of a certain class - that is, to some degree, something geared toward a man, toward getting something from someone. never joy in my sexual being. if i am powerful, it is in the context of being out of my proper place. i am raging. is there a man who understands this? i want to know him. i want to display the maleness and femaleness in me, without being a woman who imitates a man, without being butch or a tomboy or any other thing that a woman must be if she displays certain characteristics. i want personhood that is indescribable and indefinable. i am close to begging; but there is no one to beg but the world at large. and when has the world at large ever listened to these misguided children?

yes.