Until Some Other Time

The Artist D!

During a red eye flight of a Lockheed L-1011 from Los Angeles International Airport to Boston Logan International Airport, the plane flies through a strange light, and most of the passengers and flight crew disappear, leaving behind only personal artifacts. Only those passengers who were asleep remain, and discover the predicament when they wake.

That’s my kind of dreamscape. That’s my kind of movie! It was The Langoliers from Stephen King. I love stories where most of the humans disappear. I’ve always been fascinated with empty spaces once occupied by humanity. It can be found in many episodes of The Twilight Zone or any oddball Night at… sort of story. You know the ones! A night at a museum where creepy things happen and the exhibits come alive. A night at the department store where the mannequins come to life and discuss their sadness about being mannequins. All along with a planet filled with talking Apes. It lead to my zombie obsessions. To be one of the few left standing in this world is a beautiful thing.

People get in the way and I don’t want anyone to take offense to that. For as much as I hate this world covered with mindless people I do recognize that without them it would be unlikely for there to be a me.

I drive through these culturally starved towns and see the mindlessness. I see the gems too. Those are the punk kids skating down the side of the roads contemplating their escape from this boring madness. We need these towns in order to breed the artistic and liberators that we find within our culturally deep cities. If it wasn’t for a punk in the burbs we may have been too comfortable to fly at society like bats out of hell.

At the time of this writing I’m spending a moment on the coast and feel like I had stepped off of that Lockheed L-1011. Have you ever returned to a place once so magical that you wonder where all of the magic has gone? I feel like I am two steps behind time itself. Like there is something missing. Surely I’ll start to hear the faint sounds of crunching any moment now (it’s the Langoliers).

On my drive up to the tops of the rocks where my beach side hideaway awaited I was listening to a podcast discussion about the importance of your Intention. The person was describing how easy it is to mistake what you think should be happening vs. that of your true intention.

I’ve made a lot of missteps when it came to my aim or plan (my intentions). I’ve regularly mistook the “where” I am as having something to do with the “what” I could do. It was an easy mistake to make thanks to the observations of things around me. I have always lived my life two steps behind the accidental successes of other people. I was too young to invest in the Dot-com Bubble of the late ’90s. Then I was ahead of my time trying to create Internet Social Networking Platforms, but I didn’t have any nerdy friends to help me out with that. I was too early with my projects to become Internet Rich & Famous. That was circa 2005 and by then I had already been through my Chris Crocker and Jefree Star phases; I was already over it when they were just getting started. And let’s not even discuss how early to the game my friends and I were when it came to the now popular Internet Radio.

They call me a pioneer. I have been referred to as an Internet Pioneer in several Podunk local newspapers, International Transgender Magazines, and numerous extremely random Internet things. I know a few fellow pioneers as well. People who were pioneering the Internet before I even inserted the free America Online disc into the floppy drive. I can attest for most of us that pioneering rarely comes with fame or fortune. Whether you are online or off, it’s usually safe to say that things have been built on the backs of pioneers. By the time the thing is a big mighty device we have lost all memory of the bodies buried in the basement.

This witnessing of all these people who got lucky is why I have always been confused with the belief that I had to be somewhere specific in order to get lucky. I could always create the art or take the photos, but none of it mattered unless I happen to be at the right time and the right place.

There is no right place. As the rental car ached throughout the climb to this hilltop I realized that there is no right place because there is no right time. I realized this as the Langoliers munched away behind me and the dirty ocean began to be heard in front of me.

There is no right place, just like there is no empty space. Life is what you make it wherever you may be. The sun shines everywhere, unfortunately. The traffic congestion chokes and coughs whether it be in Podunk or in the Emerald City.

It is what it is and it is only what you make it to be. Analyze your intentions and do not confuse them with gentrified stale thoughts brought to you in part by the letters F and U.

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The Artist D! is taking a break from writing for TGForum. We thank them for their insightful and provocative contribution over the years. When they have something else to say they have indicated a desire to return to our site. They are welcome to do so whenever they like.

Tags: featured, growth, journey, spaces, theartistd

Category: Transgender Body & Soul