The mountain thrill

Stranger; “Of all the people in the whole world that you have ever known, or not. Of all the strangers in the whole universe that you have ever crossed paths with, or not. Lets say, hypothetically, that you happen to be next to a cliff and there, there is your “Woman,” your wife amongst the crowd hanging and whining on like a little bitch for her dear life. Who would you choose; Hashem, or any of them.”
Me; “How cute. I choose Hashem-ask me again.”

No souls

I’ve always been perplexed as to why is it that in some places people would steal from each other’s and others work, style, and ideas like it’s a normal thing, just like breathing. And then I lightened up, it got to me; these places will do shit like that all day long without giving it a second thought. A learned behavior that has become a second nature. It is because these communities/societies whatever you want to call these-punks-like to live the poser/wannabe outlaws lifestyle where nobody and nothing else matters but themselves. They like to spit and smear on anything and everything they touch or come into contact by and wrap up with brat smirks while representing nothing less, nor short than their despicable, ugly, and worthless “individual” faces-hide your tattoos.

Transphobia 2

Do call me; “he,” again for which we, women, were all he to begin with. See, it’s just that I was born different. Bestowed with unimaginable hardships to begin with, overcome, and become and as also maybe to serve as a side living example, perhaps as a side little remembrance of that very sacred creation for all of you creeping little creatures to witness and see with your own mere physicality and mortality how I was, am, and will always be very much real. And now yes. Do call me; “she,” again for which we, women, were all he to begin with.

Dirty little secret

Shalom to my Jewish parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents and so on so forth who survived persecution, slavery, and war which somewhere, sometime out of possible boredom two people have made it possible for this little me to happen. It’s just that I am practicing what I am going to say when the world is going to ask about my invisible family relevant history. Great. Thanks.


Stranger; “Who/what are your inspirations.”
Me; “Nobody.”
Stranger; “Explain.”
Me; “I mean we live in a world where everything, and everyone has shaped/influenced us at some point or another in some way or another in how we express ourselves and that’s the beauty of becoming. Therefore, upon close examination at something or someone anything will naturally remind you of someone or something else. However, oddly as it may sound, I was just brought up into a world without being driven into any particular stupid hero figure per se. Like I often feel; not human.”