Swearing On The Internet

I've been doing this blog thing for about two and a half years and sixty-some posts now and my results have been rather mixed. While I'm proud of the work that I've done and I genuinely believe that I have one of the best goddamn blogs on the internet, I still can't manage to get more than a handful of dearest motherfuckers to give a shit. I don't mean to come across as unappreciative but with my long history of depression there are some weeks where I feel like goddamn Lenin giving mass to my nine confirmed apostles at Finland Station and then there are other weeks where it feels like I'm doing little more than swearing on the internet. This last month has felt mostly like the latter.

While I've put out what I feel is some of my best work, I've watched in despair as my daily page views have gone down faster than Jody Foster at WNBA meet and greet. Even after publishing my first piece for the Libertarian Institute in February I still can't manage to get anyone to so much as return my goddamn emails and my two biggest patrons, through zero fault of their own, also happen to be the two hardest working libertarians in show business (you know who you are). Just add a defunct serotonin level and WA-LA! You have one seriously blue anarchist.

As if this isn't depressing enough to lay my weary head on the railroad tracks and pray for traffic, I also have to contend with an increasingly cantankerous gender identity. Being gender-fluid, I have days where I feel male, days where I feel female and days where I feel somewhere in between. It is the female days that hurt the worst and lately I've been blessed with a shitload of fucking female days. Days where my Tony Soprano physique and my Robin Williams body hair make me feel more like a fucking mess than a genderfuck superstar. It's an ugly, lonely, gnawing feeling of physical and spiritual disconnection that no one without gender dysphoria can ever truly understand. There are days when I desperately want to be the girl with the most cake as my radical faerie godmother Courtney Love might put it. On those days I can only describe my depression as a form of emotional starvation. White people problems, right?

Believe it or not, I didn't write this dreary little piece in search of pity, honestly I didn't. Well, OK, maybe a little. I'm a drama queen, drown me. But mostly I wrote this exercise in emo self-flagellation for the same reason I write anything, whether a thousand people read it or no one does. I write shit like this because writing is who I am. Writing is how I deal with this shit. Writing is my heroin and I couldn't give up my fix even if I wanted to. I also write this because I made a promise to myself when I started this blog as a lowly shut-in. A promise to always tell the truth, the whole truth, the brutal truth and nothing but. It's what I believe separates my blog from many others. Pure unadulterated honesty, no matter how teeth-grindingly uncomfortable it might get. It's naked self-portraits like this one that help me understand who I really am and if I'm lucky, maybe just maybe, they can help you to do the same.

So whoever is out there, whoever you are, thank you for listening. I can't promise you much from this blog beyond total sincerity of spirit. But I can promise you that I'll always keep it fucking interesting. It's the only way I know how to live. Now spread the word, goddammit, Mama want's to be famous!



P.S. I'm sure you've all already heard the tragic news from Manchester. Part of me considered scrapping this self-indulgent piece for something a little more appropriate but I figured a tranny bitch-fest might actually piss off those cockless ISIS fag-bashers even more. After all the best revenge against the hate-fucks of this world is to live life loudly. But if your religious pray for Madchester, that fantastically dirty old town with it's great music, amazing drugs and wonderful, wonderful people. And if your not religious then, I guess, light a candle, listen to some Joy Division and fuck the one your with. Far too many people aren't blessed enough to do any of the above today.



Peace, Love and Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post.

* Hate My Way By Throwing Muses
* Slip Away By Perfume Genius
* Doll Parts By Hole
* I Found A Reason By The Velvet Underground
* There Is A Light That Never Goes Out By The Smiths
* She's Like Heroin To Me By The Gun Club
* I Blame Myself By Sky Ferreira
* Love Will Tare Us Apart By Joy Division