Excuse me if today's post is all over the map.
It's a direct reflection of how my mind is right before a gig.
I'm a loon before every performance. Papi asked me, "Are you ok? You're being very strange. Like half the other women I've dated."
I'm not quite right.
I was frustrated that I don't get my hugs.
fucking heal so i can have my hugs dammit!
I got really bitchy because my love wanted to go into the Dykes on Bikes for the Gay Pride parade. "You can't have it both ways though! If you want to denounce every bit of your female side, then you can't just go and ride in the parade as a dyke. You don't want to be one anymore."
I think Papi was a little shocked, but then, "But the fags go and other F-Ms go as well."
"My personal opinion is that the fags are closer to feeling like a dyke than the F-Ms. I just personally think it's not fair. You can't just get rid of your female side then expect to take it back when it suits you."
It really took my love aback.
I think it hurt Papi's feelings.
But it hurts my feelings that I'm losing every piece of the butch I fell in love with and married. I suppose this is my way of punishing Papi? Maybe?
You took this from me, so I'm taking that from you.
Papi should make a parade segment called Trannies on Trikes. That would be good.
I don't even want to be in the parade. I feel like we're no longer a lesbian couple, so we don't deserve to be in that portion of the parade.
Men get all the privilege in the world. Give the women their time.
But yes, I'm probably feeling extra sensitive about this because of the show tonight.
When I was a kid, for a week before every piano recital you couldn't even talk to me without tears rolling down my face.
I wanted solitude.
I wanted to play my piano all day and hide in the music. It was my drug.
But people were always around. Mother, sister and all the friends. Couldn't escape anyone.
I feel like that that past couple of days.
Just don't bother talking to me. I'm preparing for a show.
I truly am excited. It's just so nerve racking because it's the first one since the accident. The first of anything since the accident makes me crazy. Then I do it, and everything is fine.
Hey, I got an award from a lovely blogger friend Stella:
A little Courtney Love mixed with Andréa?
Maybe not. I'll be dragging out the black pretty soon.
Gotta go practise.