The festivities have
already stretched long into the day’s golden hour, and they have
snuck away for their own private ball. They can still see moving
people moving and laughing inside the palace, but there is only peace
out here. The Madame and the Maestro have not stopped their
delightful music, surely, but no sound reaches their ears, not here;
in the quiet beauty of nature they find their own song.
He can’t stop
looking at her. His step is as swift and fluid as it was in those
darkened nights when the ballroom was dusty and she floated around
him, unable to stay completely still. His eyes define blue, and even
the cornflowers surrounding them cannot compare to the vibrancy his
irises hold. He does not smile; only pauses every so often to kiss
her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. After all, happiness is not the
only emotion that is felt tonight; there is also love, relief,
sonder. Those don’t need to be expressed with a smile. They had the
rest of their lives to smile and laugh. For now, they only needed to
feel each other and know that they were there. And tonight, he is
flying in her eyes.
And her eyes hold
more light than the sun itself; she is glowing, she is radiance
incarnate. Her entire expression is fixated on his, and she does
smile—a dazzling, joyous thing that does not belong on this earth.
Her hands grasp his own, her mere touch setting him aflame with
desire. Her movements are not as coordinated; she still has feathers
where her feet are, but he doesn’t mind, how can he, when he’s
lost in her, her being, hereverything. He does not deserve her. What could
he have possibly done to earn this very moment? Everything is so
light, so weightless, and here she is grounding him, burning through
him. It’s all upside down.
Hours later—or has
it been minutes?—they do hear music in the gardens. A few hedges
over, hidden from their sight, a violin sings something young
and light to the golden sky, which is beginning to mingle with
pink from the clouds. They glance at each other and laugh with the
knowledge that they’re not the only ones that have left the
festivities for a little while. They lean into the music and fall
into step with one another. Despite its quiet tones, it is a melody
that’s quick, full of vivacity, and they try to keep up. She trips
over her feet and falls towards him, but he has a quick hand and
doesn’t just catch her. He sweeps her off her feet and spins her
around, not even missing a step. She giggles as he sets her back
down again, and soon they are both spinning around each other, hands
wrapped around each others’ waists.
But then she becomes
too tired, and he becomes too lost, and they sit on a bench, facing
the west, watching as the sun slowly begins to brush the tips of the
mountains. Her head is on his shoulder, his arm wraps around her.
They will rejoin the others soon, but they only have need of each
other at the moment.
“I love you.”
Three words, but they are pure, untempered,
so full of emotion; she’s close to
He laughs and turns
to kiss her slowly. She caresses his face and he responds in kind,
running his fingers under her wig and through her hair. He smiles, and stares at her with eyes that challenge the sky.
idk man the thing that sucks about not being really pretty is that no matter what you tell yourself and what your friends might say, you sort of always know that you’re just not. and i’m not talking about being stubborn and fishing for compliments, it’s just knowing that you’re not conventionally attractive, that people on the street won’t double-take when you pass by them, that people won’t be flustered trying to talk to you. and i know looks aren’t everything but damn it sure feels like it when you aren’t absolutely gorgeous
ok SO john mulaney has a new live show on the netflicks (the comeback kid) and i was lucky enough to see him do this act live in milwaukee this summer!!! but the recorded show is missing something special
so summer in milwaukee is known for being like. comically humid. disgustingly, oppressively humid. ‘can’t tell the difference between being downtown and being literally submerged in lake michigan’ humid
and poor john mulaney was wearing a nice-looking but also very warm suit. so once about every 10-20 minutes he would pause whatever spiel he was on, wipe his forehead, flutter his jacket about, regret his fashion choices and ask what was wrong with us that we don’t properly air condition our venues
about halfway through the show, a woman in one of the front rows stood up and started to walk out so in classic mulaney fashion he razzed her that she couldn’t take the heat either and asked her to bring him a pepsi - she didn’t break stride (i would try to play it cool too if over a thousand people were suddenly watching me get razzed by mulaney)
as soon as she was out of the theatre, he turned his mic off and started yelling to those of us who were still in there
“okay guys, we’re going to play a little prank on her! can everyone hear me? WE’RE GOING TO PLAY A PRANK! at some point later in the show i’m going to say ‘you know what they say in milwaukee!!’ and you’re all going to wave your arm around like this’ - he jauntily waved his arm with his first finger outstretched, like an 80 year old man doing the charleston - ‘and you will all shout ‘gimme some PANcakes!!!’’
we did a few rehearsals of this until he was satisfied, and he turned his mic back on and continued with his act
a few minutes later the woman walked back through the theatre but passed her row, walked all the way up to the stage, and set a can of pepsi at mulaney’s feet. he stopped, mouth agape for a moment and touched his chest. ‘is this really for me?’ he asked. ‘did i ask you for pepsi? i have no idea why i would do that, i hate pepsi.’ he thanked her sincerely several times, and when she turned his back to him to return to her seat, he made frantic ‘kill’ motions across his throat to signal to us that the prank was off
he continued to lament the heat for the rest of his act, eventually lost the jacket and drank the gifted pepsi, grimacing cartoonishly every time. at the very end of the night he thanked us for being a great audience, thanked the woman in particular for her kindness, and triumphantly said ‘BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY IN MILWAUKEE!!!’ and 1 very generous women was hopelessly confused when 1299 people shouted ‘GIMME SOME PANCAKES!!!!!’
Sometimes I hate being trans. A lot of the time, actually. While everyone else is moving forward, you’re feel like you’re waiting, waiting, waiting. For the next GIC appointment. For hormones to show any effect. For surgery. For the next surgery. For forms and reports and assessments to be filled out.
These things take weeks, months, years. Whole parts of your life get eaten away on waiting lists for services that are already stretched to their limit. And all the time you want everything to stop - to right itself in some magical overnight miracle. You spend nights crying and asking ‘why me?’ Why am I the one who has to be stuck here?
But you will get there. I promise you. Nobody knows patience like us trans folk. We have to be strong, mentally, emotionally and physically, because we are forced to be by our very nature. It’s something huge to bear and it’s okay if you’re not always okay. It isn’t fun, and it isn’t fair. And it’s okay to grieve - for being born with the wrong parts, or for all the times that your body restricted you in life - for the things you wish you had. Grieve if you need to.
There is light and dark to everything in life. Being trans is no exception. Keep going. Wait and fight and grieve and celebrate and live -in the way that only we trans people know how.