TRANSGENDER CONTINENTAL

B. McGILLICUDDY

I feel like a fucking dame sometimes. All this blabberin' and yammerin' on about my problems and how much I love my girlfriend and how bad I want to make babies and settle somewhere where I can just work on my art and write a novel's got me thinking, WTF IS UP WITH MY ESTROGEN LEVELS!? SRSLY. No but dblsrsly I've always been like this. Even back on the effed coast, where I got more pussy and drank/cursed/waddled like a fucking seaman on a sea ship tearing through an ocean of debauchery, I was still a little puss at heart. So what does that make me, huh? Where does that place me on the gender-to-roll function scale? I don't know, I feel like there were plenty of Athenians back in the day who just sat around philosophizing to wine and goodeats so I don't feel out of place as a human in general, I suppose my gender/breed of man just can't fit into a stereotype anymore than a butchy hetero broad can. Thank God I'm tall. Or thank genes I guess. Still though, I feel out of place where even the nerds don't apply to my brand of feminine charm and beauty. In LA it's the nerds who've won. In LA there are stables for the jocks, called suburbs, to keep them segmented from Bohemia Proper, but in the East, at least where I am in the East, the lines are so vagued and the intentions so overwhelmingly polarized that it feels like I have more chance of running into an actually cross-dresser than a properly feminized playboy. And I have yet to run into an actual cross-dresser. Holy shit I need to get out of here. FML.

B. McGILLICUDDY