RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
2002-01-29
Abel Barbin (b. Ad�la�de Herculine Barbin)
B. 11.8.1838 Saint-Jean-d�Angely, France / D. 2.1868 Paris
Suicide / Oil Stove
Ever since I got into bed last night I�ve been meaning to cut an inch off the clitoris in the Christine Jorgenson obituary. What now?�I wonder through a flat day leavened only by wishes that a particular female-to-male transsexual future lover whom I could make my fianc�(e) would appear, as if through supernatural means. Am I fooling myself? Am I the one�another one�in the wrong body? Is it coming time for my own reassigning? Maybe so. And yet I manifestly refuse almost every opportunity to practice with tangible devices what I reach for in the closets of my mind. It�s nothing�
Tony Blair�who is Tony Blair now? He�s wondering�that�s his day too. Under Clinton, it was easy. He was vice-president. But Clinton was a hippie with a thing for England and the British Labor Party�always thought the whole scene was groovy and wanted to make it. George Bush is from Texas�again. To him England resembles nothing so much as a tiny twitching mummy�a global novelty act powered solely by infusions of American sufferance�dancing on our strings. Which makes of Tony Blair� a sequin.
Consolation Site: History Makes Me Horny