“Of course, it would be unfair for me to comment. Douglas [Adams] told me in the strictest confidence exactly why 42. The answer is fascinating, extraordinary and, when you think hard about it, completely obvious. Nonetheless amazing for that. Remarkable really. But sadly I cannot share it with anyone and the secret must go with me to the grave. Pity, because it explains so much beyond the books. It really does explain the secret of life, the universe, and everything.”—Stephen Fry, on the meaning of 42 in Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
“Isn’t this enough? Just this world? Just this beautiful, complex, wonderfully unfathomable world? How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of cheap, man-made Myths and Monsters?”—Tim Minchin
“[A]dvice about fucking (even while feminist) is always about what you shouldn’t do. Don’t watch porn, don’t give blow jobs, don’t go home with just anyone, don’t give away the milk so that he doesn’t think the cow is free. Don’t be an exhibitionist, don’t be submissive, don’t engage in sex work, don’t expect to be loved if you’ve been too slutty. There have been times where even I’ve been tempted to dismiss feminist ideals of fucking as little more than the same fantasies spoon-fed to us in romance novels and rom-coms: slow, emotionally intimate love-making while you stare into one another’s eyes as the music swells. Not that there’s anything wrong with that on occasion, or if that’s your thing, but sometimes, I just want to fuck.”—Fucking While Feminist: When Principles Meet Intimacy, What Then? (via sexisnottheenemy)
He wears cargos and goes barefoot, even though it’s only March. He asks his sister to shape his eyebrows (she’s better at it), and hums to himself while he smudges on eyeliner. His nail polish is chipped but he likes it that way.
After two hours of walking around shirtless, he pulls his favourite t-shirt over his binder.
He says, “I am here to make you question,” and “Pronouns just get in my way,” and “If you’re confused, I must be doing something right.”
He writes his name in the fog on the bathroom mirror, then writes a girl’s name underneath it. Then he wipes them both away, and scrawls his favourite nickname instead.
He answers to a lot of names; tomorrow, he’ll pick a new one.
Tomorrow, she’ll wear a bra and no makeup, tight jeans and a lacy top, and a pendant she bought in Barcelona with the symbol of Mars.
She’s made of layers.
Her top layer is a girl. She wears flouncy skirts, eyeshadow, and shiny lipgloss. She answers to baby and loves being treated like a princess. She flirts with giggles and sweet smiles.
She’s a crossdresser; her next layer down is a gay boy. He likes femininity, and when it all comes down to it, he’d rather be a girl.
Underneath it all, she is a girl. “That’s just biology,” she’d say. “But a body is just a vessel, and being a boy has nothing to do with pants.”
She shares articles on feminism and sometimes binds her chest. She says she feels pretty that way, and who could honestly blame her?
She writes uncapitalized poetry on the concept of gender identity and paints pictures with nail polish to illustrate her points.
He started down this road long ago and it seems to be one that suits him well. He studies gender, language, and sexuality, and delights in anything outside the norm.
He can be ambiguous, but he likes it that way.
He writes without apostrophes and barely bothers with capitals. He used to dress in drag, but nowadays he’s dandy. His eyebrows are drawn on and he does his own makeup for his photo shoots.
He says, “I am not my body and this doesn’t matter. I am not less of a man because you think so.”
His photos reveal a passionate soul, an eye for colour and light, strongly felt emotions, and a soft spot for things other people have given up on.
No matter what you say, you will never convince him to stop doing what he loves, and no matter what you do, he will never change for you.
He is a study in contradictions: strong and vulnerable, powerful and weak, lonely and loved, and above all, fiercely, fabulously h u m a n.