trans/figuration (love takes miles)
lent diary #2
there is a ten year old child in front of me at mass wearing yeezys.
i’m at the back of a fully packed saint monica’s, next to two writhing, gurgling kids that i don’t know. and this other kid is in front of me with his obviously rich family.
i don’t know anyone here. i don’t know if i want to. i look at big watches and blonde hair and families and i wonder why i’m here.
the friar is talking about how we need to shower everybody with love, no matter what. i wonder if these people would do it for me. if i’d do it for them. i wonder if i’ll be back the next week, if i can actually consistently be a part of this church.
love takes miles, love takes years.
My other cradle Catholic friends told me to ignore the parts I didn’t like, that real Catholics didn’t care about the theology of the body or about the minutiae of sexual ethics, that most of them haven’t been to confession since they were getting confirmed in the ninth grade, that being Catholic is really just about being Irish or Italian or whatever, that converts are creepy nerds for the most part and regular Catholics think the Church is a chore.
she wrote that on her blog earlier this week, just after returning from new york. as usual, i’ve fallen for a writer.
in a previous blog post (see below) i wrote about falling for a different writer. after hooking up a few times, i’d fallen into the sort of obsession i was trying to wrestle in the essay. jacob and the angel.
i decided to end the essay with something like a prayer: “i don’t want to fuck this up.”
it was more of a beg, a howl wrapped in a whimper. i sent it to her for feedback. she gave grammar notes and not much else. she ended things soon after. i realize now this was not one of my better gambits in terms of wooing someone.
but this time things are different. i’ve learned, with time.
love takes miles, love takes years.
i’ve spent most nights this past week in the bed of this new girl, my calendar defined by when i’d see her next. on wednesday we were drunk, falling asleep, and she asked if she could call me her girlfriend. i said yes. the next day, as my head swirled in hangover and i just wanted the day to pass, she texted and asked if it was too soon, if she’d rushed things.
we’ve known each other for about a month now. it’s soon. maybe? a u-haul situation. but queer time is different.
i’ve tended to rush into things because it’s difficult to imagine the future. to imagine when i’d find another trans person who might make me feel loved, that i could love. when someone does come into my orbit, i’ve felt terrified of having to wait for someone else who might not come. i took whatever scraps i could get.
Well, I need someone to hold me
But I'll wait for somethin' more
Yes I gotta have faith
Ooh, I gotta have faith
Because I gotta have faith, faith, faith
I gotta have faith, faith, faith
and i had faith and i found her. she’s different. and it’s lovely.
i met her at a bar. i’ve been going to bars and clubs and raves and trans events and school mixers and jobs and classes and radio meetings and tinder and hinge and grindr and lex and bumble and feeld and okcupid and hometown reunions for years hoping to find someone.
i could talk about munoz’s theories on cruising, on how queer people are always in the act of seeking, searching, imagining. but i’m exhausted from theory. i’m writing this after a week of burning through final papers for school. i don’t feel like munoz, i feel like bridget jones, writing her diary and smoking and drinking and wondering when she’ll find love.
i’m writing this on my couch with my friend lara as we watch bridget jones: the edge of reason. we just watched the first film and adored it. i want to watch the entire series with them tonight. i don’t know when i’ll see them next, and worry that too much time will pass before we’re able to hang out again and watch more movies.
too much time until what?
the other shoe
i’m trying to have more faith, to not rush things or assume every time i’m with friends and family that it’s the last time i’ll ever see them.
i can’t walk on water, but i do feel like i’m running on it, thinking that if i just keep going i won’t fall in, if there’s just another stepping stone, another event, another plan i’ll be okay.
often, when i have something exciting coming up - a date, a concert, a conference - i become wracked with anxiety that something will happen before i get to do it.
i’ll get sick or hurt. something unspeakable will happen to a friend or a family member. the world will explode, the sun will die, or maybe i’ll have a new zit on my lip.
i pray. the prayer often goes something like this:
please God
just let nothing happen before this beautiful thing
please allow me to keep my health and please keep my family and friends safe and healthy so we can keep enjoying this beautiful world and life you have given us
if everything comes from you, then allow me to keep living and experiencing you and this world
amen.
i cross myself.
my mom visited on wednesday. she visits every month and i love these visits. she does too. knowing they’ll happen gives me a sense of security, of futurity, of love. another stepping stone, a commitment and act of love that keeps me going.
love takes miles, love takes years.
oh, but this is a lent diary, isn’t it? let’s go back to church.
the friar talks about pope francis, about him writing plans for the years to come, always thinking of the future, even when his own is uncertain as he lies in a hospital bed. for me, the hardest part about exploring catholicism is reckoning with the papacy, with the decrees that run against my values and beliefs.
the pope has stood up for palestine, which is good. but the church doesn’t exactly have a great track record with genocide, human rights, tolerance, abuse, etc., which is bad.
it’s got plenty of blood on its hands. my mom and i talked about the contradictions that exist with me exploring catholicism. i’m fascinated by the suffering, the icons, the architecture, the stories, the myths, the magic, and what it can tell me about my italian heritage.
but what does it mean to actualy live in and engage with this system?
i believe in god, absolutely, but is this the place to exist with Him?
but i don’t have to stay with catholicism forever. i have time to explore, to discover and create other spaces, other people. there will be another sunday next week. and the week after that. and after that.
love takes miles, love takes years.
the main topic of the sermon was transfiguration. metemorphophe. transfiguratus. jesus suddenly transforming in an instant into his glorious, resplendent, divine form. something we can’t do. we can’t become perfect in a moment, or in a month, a year, a lifetime. my tits won’t grow overnight. i’m a real person, not fucking emilia perez.
it’s a long journey, a long time.
love takes miles, love takes years.
the above line has been my mantra, my prayer, for weeks now. it’s from a song: "love takes miles" by cameron winter, an artist i’ve been playing obsessively, on loop. his album, heavy metal, is a series of prayers, in its way:
i will keep breaking cups until my left hand looks wrong
until my miracle drugs write the miracle song
love will be revealed
love will call
god is real
walking and walking
walking and walking
walking and walking, you used up your feet
begging and praying
begging and begging
begging and praying, you use up your knee
i was fortunate enough to see live back in february. i had a photo press pass from ucla radio, but the promoters messed up, accidentally booking us for the early show, only telling us half an hour before curtain. zain, a friend at the radio station who was writing the article, drove to mine as fast as we could and we watched the dashboard clock pass the concert start time as we were stuck in traffic.
time stretching on sunset blvd., agonizing. wanting it to slow down, or for us to move faster. but the time was not a waste. zain and i talked about life, about books, about the radio. when i found out he was writing the article, not me, i was irked. i wanted to do that. i’m a good writer, i can do this concert justice.
then i read his sleater-kinney article for the radio.
oh, i thought. nevermind.
he’s a great writer, an inspiration for connecting personal reflections with both critical analysis and reverence for music. i have to remind myself that he’s older than me - he’s had more life, more music, more experience. more time. i’ll improve too, as a writer and a person. i just have to have faith and give it time.
i want to write deeper essays here. not just purely diaristic blogs, but ones that connect theory with music and quotes and life and me, of course. but i don’t have to write perfect articles write now. i’m spending a lot of time writing dense things for school. when school is done, i’ll have time, and that time will only come with time.
love takes miles, love takes years.
anyway, the concert. i’ll, of course, direct you to zain's wonderful article about the show and the ecstatic, devout, and endlessly fascinating music of cameron winter. but, as to my own experience: it was something else. i was worried that the concert would be ruined by showing up late, but, miraculously, it added to the magic.
i walked into a darkened community theater, the show already well in progress. the only beacon in the black was a single spotlight on the sweaty, looming, mop-haired man at the piano. the packed house was reverent and focused, more together than any church i’d ever been to. cameron’s voice was gut-wrenching and soothing in equal measure. he was pulling something holy from his soul, from the battered grand piano sitting centerstage.
we came in just as he began “love takes miles.” if that’s not a sign, i don’t know what is.
love takes miles, love takes years.
i’ve still stayed true to my lent promise. no headphones while walking around. learning songs with more attention to detail and singing them as i go about my day. writing songs for her, too. i’m trying to open myself up to more signs, more love. even as i search for a church, i can still discover God out in the world, everywhere.
and these signs are ways for me to keep going, to look forward to more beauty, more time. more life, to quote Angels in America.
concerts to look forward to
visits from my parents
visits from my friends
the next chapter of war and peace, which i’m reading throughout the year
the next community event, the next protest
the next time i’ll see her
the next time we’ll hold each other
i did say yes - i’d like to be girlfriends. i’d like to keep sharing music and talking about god and spending time with her.
i have a girlfriend now.
i’m somebody’s girlfriend.
a girl that another girl buys flowers for.
so this is a prayer.
love takes miles, love takes years
love takes miles, love takes years
love takes miles
love takes years