One of the hallmarks of mid-twenties idiocy is an obsession with “wasting one’s youth”. I do not have this obsession. And yet, I’d love to make more of this time when things are messy, when I’m allowed to be lost, when stakes are low, when I can bounce back. And yet, I sometimes, secretly, quietly, envy those who are ensconced in such a mess. When the envy blows up, its shock waves, compressions in the air, sound like a call to adventure.
I’ve grown impatient, I get short with people, things, and myself. I’m getting short writing this piece. I envy my past self’s ability to wait things out, whether they be a long book, a bumpy bus ride, an unpleasant conversation, or a depressive episode. I have to act now, even when there is no action to be taken - anxiety, I’m sure, but also enfranchisement. Impatience came to me alongside power: The power to stand up is frustrated when it’s impolite, the power to sit down is frustrated when there’s work to do. The power to transition has made me eagerly anticipate the feminizing effects, which arrive on the order of months and years, not the minutes or hour of my morning shower, shave, clothing selection. I try to turn my impatience into pride - a lesser me would be windswept, carried away, in these situations, and I’m only impatient because the wind against me is strong.
I do fight it too, when it is unhealthy. Consumer selection is not what determines production, but I’m still happier now that I’ve quit using Amazon. I’m weaker, yes - I’ve relinquished my power over matter, no longer can I command that goods be transported from wherever to my house. But I’m nicer, now that I’ve unlearned the impatience that came with that power.
One of the reasons I think I’m trans is the admiration I feel toward other trans women. Jaw and shoulders angular like a Basquiat, rich voice like an eclair, towering figure of a minaret calling me to pray, mystique of an impossible story like the formation of a snowflake far, far above, a work of art and love and nature. I want it for myself - not womanhood, not patriarchy and pain and danger and secrecy and all the other things everyone warns me about, but trans womanhood - triumph.
Have you listened to Noisia? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to make those sounds? And what they do for them? It’s crazy. There are a few YouTube videos of an interview with them, where they reveal some of their synthesizer work and processing. Each time I rewatch them, I’m reminded that I’ll have to push my sound design for my whole life.
Have you heard Herbie Hancock’s funk work? Do you know what you need to do to get groove like that? You can’t just play your instruments. I really don’t know what magical quality it is that makes a song drive like that, makes it push the beat and move the body of the frequency spectrum.
You’ve definitely heard Björk right? You have to know that it’s impossible for anyone else to sing like that. I don’t even have the words to discuss it.