T r ! n n y P u n k
issue 008
version 8-11-08-spelling -- formatting01.2
H o w t o K i l l Q u e e r S c u m.
The True storey of a 33 year old woman getting tr*ns- bashed to near death with an iron pipe.
Lillian Bloodgherdt ~ trannypunk.com
Heya!
I'm
the aging Tr*ns Punk lady who makes trannypunk.com, the worlds number
one trans supremacist, Bio-people hate mongering, resource drop in
center for tr*ns punks and assorted allies!!
This
is me trying to not get thrown out of an all night diner and write a
zine-journal thing about how to kill queers. As you may know queers are
basically revolting wretched garbage people who are human trash and the
kind of garbage people no one would ever miss. The fact that I'm
sitting in a dinner with fag waiters in thew middle of SanFagsicco with
fags and dykes of all age combinations walking arround holding hands in
public might make that theory look discredited slightly. I've also been
crashing with friends a lot and most of them are queers or trans people
or both. Its as if there is a happy friendly community of them or
something.
Killing
a queer or tr!nny should be easy enuff to do tho. You hear about it in
the paper a lot i think. and there's all kinds of great reasons to kill
one of us, like "Tr!nny Panic Defense" !! Actually TPD is civil court
hiccup, if passed in to law this bill written in tribute to the late
Gwen A. Would make it defensible to beat someone to death with a frying
pan in the event that a gender irregularity is discovered. Like if you
found out your long time friend was not exactly the gender you thought
they were you could solve the confusion by killing them and the judge
might go easy on you. It would be great to have this civil court motion
be a real law cuz it could also be interpreted that if your ambiguous
gender is upsetting someone you could kill them and fix the problem.
This
pamphlet was written as my mental detoxing after a few months of having
a slow rough recovery that taxed my friends almost as bad as it taxed
me.
See, six months ago someone beat me with a pipe
until he split my skull open on the left forehead. Hospital put me back
together over the next few months, I got no idea who that guy was, I
cant even really say it was a trans-panic cuz I only vaugely remember him calling me
something like "disgusting freak piece of shit".
I'm a funny
looking kid. In a really androgynous
way were people just aren't sure what the hell i am. And all that head
trauma fucked me up a bit and my memory is bad and I get depressed or
angry a lot. I black out in the middle of sentences, have bad mood
swings. Don't worry about me
cuz I'm in 5 different drop in center counseling/LGBTQ
doctors/here-have-more-pamphlets groups and they send me to a new one
each week.
This
is supposed to
be an important informational pamphlet on how to kill queers, tr!nnys,
and especially Queer Tr!nnys ( heya ! :). Remember; if you find
yourself killing a fruit-freak sometime soon, please do your bestest to
make sure you really kill them. Try removing the head from the body or
at least disembowel them. Just cracking open a skull doesn't always
work. Fuck up killing a queen and you'll just have angry tr*nnys
walking around with mean looking face scars talking shit and writing a
zine about how you
are a little wimpy coward idiot piece of shit. What ever happened to
you, killah !?!? Come back and finish the job you useless shit!! Were
are you ? Sucking the piss that drips outta yer moma's nipples. Fuck
you, I'll take your whole face
off a piece at a time with a hammer if I ever get to meet you again. YOU'RE the piece of shit pussy-fag! You're fuckin dead.
Sorry,
that was me having one of my "post-traumatic psychotic-episodes". I'm
fine. This diner never gave me my coffee I ordered an hour ago.
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Wires and Tubes
There's a box on the wall making a long ugly beep noise.
a very tired nurse in scrubs with pictures of kittens all over come up to yell in my face.
"did you rip your IV out again ?? Why did you do that ??"
Yeh, I did. I ripped out 2 IVs. One is just NaCl. The other is fucking Demerol. I been in a Demerol coma for 9 days.
I told the Nurse something like "its no, I don't want that. I 'm OK, I'm gotta just I cant yet....".
Thats not effective communicating. There was still a lot of coagulated blood sloshing about between my brain
and the sclara membrane arround it. Either the blood clot hematoma or
actual impact damage has screwed up my thinking awfully terrible.
Thinking hurts bad enuff that I dont talk when people talk to me. It
takes about two months before my hematoma drains out enuff for me to
even be upset that someone tried to kill me.
Call
me Sybil. This part of the story is the part where i break out of my
restraints again and rip off my EKG and my IVs. Some one tried to kill
me 2 weeks ago and I have a lot of coagulated blood saturating my
brain. It makes it hard to communicate with the nurses cuz I seem to
stutter, mumble, and when I try to talk I cant remember the right
words. You have two speech centers in your brain called Werner and
Brocha. One turns thought in to language, the other turns words in your
head in to speech. They also work the other way turning speech in to
understanding in to thought. If someone smashes an iron pipe in to this
part of your brain, which is right next to your left ear, then those
functions might get impaired, for months or more.
The
hospital has been restraining me lately cuz I keep trying to rip off
all the tubes and wires and then I pass out and wake up reconnected to
them again. I woke up with a breathing tube once. I woke up with a
plastic hose going down my throat and into my lungs, I think I just
made myself pass back out that time. sometimes my friends come visit
me. I'm glad they found me at the hospital somehow. I don't know who
but somebuddy was sweet enuff to call all the hospitals when I was
missing for days. My friends come to see me and I think they talk to me
but I suck at talking and have a 10 second memory.
Nurse
put my restraints back on and re hooked up all my wires and tubes. I
don't care. I broke 2 gurneys already. I broke out of the gurney at
least 5 times and every time, as soon as my feet touch the hospital
floor, I pass right out and wake up 3 hours later with my tubes hooked
back up. My hospital bill is almost 100 thousand dollars. When they
rebuilt my skull they cut off a bunch of my hair and my left eye has
been rolled back in to my skull since they installed my plastic
forehead. I don't even remember 3 days naked in the emergency room, my
friends told me. Some of my friends were real excited to point out
that, holy shit, I have a non vaginal urine and sex part. I've been
operating with the wrong genitalia for years but I don't like to talk
about it much.
You see, I'm Sybil, and I'm "trans". That is shorthand for anybuddy who cant be classified as "physiologically"
fully
male or female and they may be receiving some experimental 20th century
medical therapy to try to fix them. In my case it means i have tits and
the wrong kind of thingy, (like a peepee instead of a noo noo), I'm
missing any kind of actual reproductive organs, and at age 30 I'm a
high risk for slipping in to menopause. I'm also really androgynous
looking, the government says I'm female but I had to petition for them
to declare me so. When I bike down the street i get people calling me
"come over here baby girl !!" on one block and "faggot" on the next. I
been in woman's jail and men's jail and they both suck. I got friends
who are fags, queens, amazon dyke punks, queer players, and a few
straight normals. Just a few tho.
I'm an
artist and run a housing co-op and play bad guitar in a funny punk band
and sometimes I work handyman jobs. I almost have a normal dating life,
its a little hard when your neither of the main genders, people have
hang ups about getting with someone who is neither and/or both
male-female. I had a bunch of different girl and boy friends but they
all been too brief. Like I said, I'm a wretched messy tr!nny, and
dating is just the tip of the iceberg of people yelling shit at me,
trying to kick me out of a gas station bathroom (that's only happened
like 6 or 12 times in the last decade !!) and I get in a fight every
year or so. Its probably my own fault, somebuddy calls me a fag or a
queen and I get in their face, and I'm more high strung every year.
People try to start shit with me often enough that I loose context and
the result is 140 pounds of me screaming insults back at these big 200
plus pound asshole dudes. I'm crappy at fighting but I'm getting better
with every altercation. I've been meaning to take a fight class but
I'm poor and there's 100 more interesting things I'm procrastinating
on, so I get good at fighting eventually. The way things have been
lately I almost got to wipe my things to do list completely clean. But
it seems like I might be immortal, perhaps. So we'll see.
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My Bionic Powers
Number
one is the new skull. Actually, its the %90 the same skull I've had for years
but they removed my left forehead, cut it up to make parts for my left
eye socket, and then gave me a triangle plastic thing that has all
these screws in it arround my hair line. Also my maxillary or upper
mandible or whats it called got kinda knocked out of place and I had to
get a few broken teeth out but the bad teeth were half my own fault. I
been kinda homeless and broke for years. I also work any part time gigs
I can get and ran a non profit for a while and do a little tiny bit of
sloppy LGBTQ peer counseling. Right now I'm blowing $7 on coffee and a
chilly fries (and 8 hours rent on a table and chair inside a functional
building) and then I'm gonna go sleep in a lot behind a tar factory.
"Homeless and broke" is an even more complicated category than
"Tr!nny". Kind of like "gay" might mean a yuppie or it might mean a big
hairy buttless chaps anal avenger pig slut cowboy. Its strange times we
live in. I'm a tr!nsexual street punk with 20 tattoos. I've been in 2
movies and 8 car accidents. Life is funny and people are complex.
Bionic
power number two is that I got %90 of my vision back after a few
months. the left eye cant read small print and there's purple clouds
and sparkles everywhere these days. Sometimes I see imaginary people
and animals and shadows sneaking up on me from the left but they vanish
when I turn my head. I have bionic imaginary friend detector powers.
Bionic power number three is my left arm being useless but I got %70 of the use back after 6 months.
Bionic
power number four is loosing my sense of smell and half my sense of
taste. I now have the power to volunteer to clean a bowl of rotten meat
out of the fridge. I can also stand in a kitchen with the stove pilot
out and filling the room with petroleum and not notice in the least. It
also has something to do with that I no longer get hungry or thirsty
and sometimes forget to eat or drink water for days. I made a new fun
game were I don't eat for 2 days and then I worry about nutrition and
force myself to eat a giant chilly fries. Diner food also gives me a
place to be, with electricity and people arround, for a few hours.
I got
more bionic powers like that they sewed my face back on a little bit
crooked, a big chunk of my scalp with hair attached just fell off a
month after the incident, mood swings, bad memory, anxiety attacks kind
of. I cant feel half my face. I had more bionic powers for a while but
a lot of them have faded. I had the power of forgetting every buddys
name, and the incredible power of being unable to operate a doorknob
for a few days. I'll explain my amazing peeing on the floor power in a minute.
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There's No Place Like Home
I been
living in a run down apartment building for the last 4 years. The
plumbing and electric are fucked up and there's broken windows and rats
and trash piles in the hallways. I'm the building superintendent !! The
owner died 4 years ago so the tenants kind of took over. the government
says I owe them dozens of thousands in tax and health department fines.
I personally hung every door in the building and installed every toilet
and electrical outlet so don't bug me about the slumminess. I did what
I could. We likr it here cuz we don't pay rent but just collect a pay-wut-you-can
house fund.
Misplacing
the entire house fund was one of my first acts on returning. Somebuddy
wanted to go to the hardware store so i gave him $900. I was way to sick and fucked up to do any danged accounting. I threw the
house books, deed, and records on the floor of the lobby cuz my head
hurt.
Between
that and the passing out, mumbling and stuttering and slurring, and
being unable to see, somehow this unspoken plan to demote me and anull
all responsibilities happened. That was fine with me. It was probably
funny watching me try to be a superintendent in my state. In 2 months
of insisting on working, sick as I could be, I painted half a bathroom
purple, built a brick wall in the middle of the porch for no reason,
painted all the fuse boxes blue, and sometimes if I was tired I
couldn't figure out my way arround my own building or operate doors.
That is the reason I kept pissing all over the floor. I couldn't hold
it and I couldnt find the damn toilet.
Spent
2 months being a fucking joke version of a super/ ghost of my former
self. My speech was so garbled broken that people would give
up on trying to understand me. Everybuddy told me they were glad I was
OK and I should rest and they'd take over. Took about 2 months for
everybuddy to completely re arrange the workshop, take all my art,
tools and crap out of my studio, turn my studio in to somebuddys room,
disperse all my stuff everywhere... and between people taking stuff out
of my room and me being to fucked up to be able to find and pick up a
screw driver out of my tool box my room was de-decorated trash by the
start of month 2.
A 21
year old boy named Demo moved in to apartment C for a minute. Demo was
crazy, drunk, kind of desperate short attention span freaking out all
the time. When he was 18 they made him join the army or face jail for
stealing a car. When he was 19 he'd seen way to much evil combat over
there. At 19 and three quarters he got run through with a bayonet, his
intestines popped out and he lay in the sand waiting to die but really
distracted by the pain. Instead of dieing he got sewn back together and
early discharge. At 21 he's a little sad and a lot crazy and tries to
stay wasted to stay calm. I ran arround with him for a week getting
drunk and then we'd wind up just sitting on the sidewalk downtown
screaming at passers by and eachother. He'd get in this weird bad place
were he'd kind of implode and start screaming at everything is shit and
he hates everyone and everything. He liked me. I was real in to him but
my left eye was still rolled up in to my busted skull and i passed out
a lot and I was getting talking back but following conversations was
still really hard. I couldn't really talk to him cuz it was way to much
work. Besides, I already had a partner I was to sick to fuck properly.
Demo would stalk me arround the house to tell me war stories and get me
to drink with him, then he'd disappear for a day and reappear in the
alley behind our building screaming nonsense and waking up neighbors.
"kitchens are a big fake pile of crap !! I'll burn down your fuck face you shit asshole !!!".
He disappeared but he was getting $500 a month from
the army for the bayonet thing.
Pretty good severance pay for getting
sentenced to the army. I just really felt like we clicked....
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Hillbilly Wedding with Moonshine
My
friend Yuri's hillbilly wedding was perfect. 100 punks of every kind
whooping it up on the end of a long abandoned fire damaged pier at the
end of the harbor were there's just sunk boat hulls and bums in
bedrolls.kids with instruments and tattered formal wear. Yuri brought 3
gallons of the moonshine he makes, I walked Seya, the bride, up to the
altar but i don't remember much. last thing I remember was me sneaking
away cuz I was way to tired for the endless wedding party. Last thing I
remember is me trying to bike back to our house with a flat tire, drunk
on moonshine, barely able to keep the flat tire bike moving. The last
thing I remember is some blurry man standing over me calling me names.
I don't remember no iron pipe, I was screaming about an iron pipe when
I entered the hospital but I don't remember that either. I do remember
lying on a gurney trying to figure out how I wound up in a hospital with all the tubes and wires running in and out of me.
Hey!
Maybe a car hit me or I tried to kill myself by putting my head in
front of a train. doesn't explain the injury. I got smashed with a
small object only on the left side of my head. All I know is I was
ranting about a man smashing me up with a pipe for days. My memory has
about 30 seconds of time for 9 days in a hospital.
I
remember waking up in an abandoned warehouse in a pile of garbage. I
think I knew the place, its just a warehouse by the train tracks were
you can get on the roof,drink and watch trains build. I kinda remember
me dragging myself through the train yard with bloody hair, eyes
swelling up, dizzy falling a lot. I remember trying to get the fuck in
to hiding before the guy came back. i remember all that for sure but i
don't remember a man breaking my skull. well I do, but its all dream
shadows. I remember giving up on my bike and my purse while crawling
through the grass and gravel. I just wanted to hide and sleep.
The
time between me disappearing from the wedding and getting wheeled in to
emergency so they could strip me naked and leave me flopped out in a
half comma, that was 3 and a half days. I remember how everyone found
me now: I lay in a pile of garbage for 3 fucking days. every few hours
i'd try to get up, and it would be agony and I'd slump back in the
garbage pile. felt like 3 minutes but i remember lying in the garbage
watching the sun appear, cross the sky, and go back down a few times. i
was in an out of consciousness and I really thought I was at a
hospital. "this hospital is all fucked up" I said to the garbage. the
next thing I remember was levitating to a better hospital.
I
didn't actually levitate to the next hospital. this is part of why I'm
reluctant to trust my memory too much. what actually happened is I
spent a long time trying to climb out a window with a fucked up arm and
head and vision. When I thought I was flying I was actually this bloody
bruise stumbling randomly through the neighborhood. I don't remember
interacting with anybuddy. I dont remember me stumbling in to Eustace
and M's house and them being "holy shit" at me covered in blood and
garbage and crashing in to everything. i just slumped on the floor and
garbled "I have come 3 by 7 blocks, they hit me with a pipe, our hands
are rocks, we throw rocks at them..." I don't remember any of this but
that's what M told me a month later. m brought me to the hospital I
guess. Maybe I did fly there. Its all foggy.
I
remember lieing in my very own private hospital room that I got cuz a
friend was nice enuff to complain about them leaving me naked in
emergency for 3 days. Same friend brought me ice cream and made fun of
me for having an ugly broken vagina for days. Whatever dude, your a
sickly nelly fag with a crack and crystal habit. Wanna be friends still
?
Everything else about the hospital was me throwing medical junk on the
floor for no reason, my friends stealing things, and me trying to get
to the toilet under my own power instead of just peeing in the jug. No
buddy else had any good physiotherapy ideas. After 9 days of mostly
being passed out they woke me up and told me they'd finished repairing
my skull and I could go now. My sight was just blurry double vision
with fuzzy blurry purple crap. I couldn't walk 1000feet without passing
out. I just lay in a hospital room with nurses telling me to leave.
They didn't really throw me out untill a day later when a friend showed
up and they insisted that he was now responsible for me and get the
fuck rid of me. No follow ups, no explanation of how my head is doing
or what I'm supposed to do next.
My friend stole a lot of gauze from them in retaliation.
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You Assholes Really Suck at Killing Queer-Freaks
I'm
still not sure if the iron pipe guy counts as a queer killer. I feel
like I was more like getting tortured by a crazy crack head. Maybe I
got beaten for being a weird punk kid who was one of the weird punk
kids who stole an apartment building off a dead guy. It might have been
a mugging but I only had $3 on me and I think I still had my purse when
I was crawling through the train yard and just abandoned it myself. I
think I remember getting called something like "fag freak" but my
memory is broken and that seems after the fact of pipe man deciding to
kill me cuz I'm going by real slow and drunk with a broken bike. I was
yelling shit back at him. I'm not a great fighter but I'm an excellent
shit talker. I hope I called him every nasty name ever before he
finally turned my lights out.
Maybe
my memory is crap and I got hit by a car with a pipe attached to it. I
got hit by a car when i was 21. Got both sides of my head chewed up,
concussion, cuts and bruises all over and a broken arm. My new injuries
are the result of a small hard thing contacting my head in several
spots close together. So perhaps its a car with lots of pipes attached
to it maybe.
The
last time I got beaten up for being a queer was when i was 24. Two jock
party boyss called me and my friend Butterfield a couple of "your ass is open faggot !!"
Butterfield flipped them off and they ran arround the block and jumped
us as we walked by. Butterfield got shoved in to a parked car and
called a fag again. I got a 6 foot 3 guy crack me in the head a bunch
of times until a bouncer from some bar ran over and chased him off.
Broken teeth, concussion, dislocated jaw, two months of pudding.
Wait
!!! Thats not the last time I got queer punched! They all blur together,
it can be hard to remember them all in order. 4 or 5 years ago I'd been
homeless for 9 months, and I was actually working for a foodbank giving
out cans. We shared space with an old folks home that was so
understaffed that the only reason I stole a bottle of morphine in the
first place was cuz nobuddy is ever at the damn nurse station so they
obviously dont care. Morphine is really bad for you and it numbs out
your emotions. There's a whole 'nother story about me being depressed
and on morphine and I threw a rock through my cousins window cuz I was
lonely. long story. short version is the humongous roofer who lived
next door comes outside and starts screaming at me, calls me an "it". As in he was hollering at his mates to "Throw this IT the fuck off our property"
You don't call a gender non-normative person an "it". That's terrible
etiquette.
So I told him, "your a fucking IT you cock sucking faggot !!"
He was like "what!!??"
So I called him a cocksucking fag again and started describing exactly
how much he loves slurping cock. I do not understand the segment of the
population who like getting blow jobs but would choose death over
giving one. cocksucker rushed up at me then and pummeled my face a bit
and I just jumped back up screaming dick sucking ass rim job shit lick
faggy fag fag at him. There were 4 of my friends carrying me away by
the limbs while I'm still screaming cocksucker at him with my nose
blood mixing with my mouth blood. I had to stare at that cocksucker the
next day while I had to replace a window but he didn't wanna chat with
me no more.
That
one only counts cuz it really marked the beginning of me loosing it at
assholes calling me queertr!nnyfag. like no shit Sherlock but why you
saying it mean ?? I had my nose bloodied a few times. Not often,but it
happens. Honestly until recently fag bashing has been a complete non
concern. until recently, car accidents, some relatively minor
almost-drug -overdoses, and general clumsiness had taken way more out
of me than any fight with the fagophobes. My friend Evell has pointed
out that being an attempted closeted tr!nny and calling people "fag"
every time they call me any of a variety of bad names is kind of
horrible. For one thing it's bullshit to call people fags as an insult.
For another I dont get to use the word fag since I'm not an actual fag.
having tried to be a fag for a few years when I was younger does not
count. Occasionally when I'm sleeping with a guy I pretend I'm a fag
sometimes. really though I'm actually a pseudo woman who spent half her
life as some kind of boy. Half the time I was being a boy I was a gay
boy. Or trying to be. Hell I switched back and forth for years before
trying
to stick with one. Now I'm technically a queer woman with an irregular
classed 'gina.. I told most of my friends that I don't believe in
gender or sexuality. Its all media lies !! I don't wanna talk about it !
I
could start saying F!ggot kind of like I say Tr!nny. I'm apprehensive
at the word Tr!nny even tho I've done print and online zines and
stcikers and patches that say TrannyPunk for over a decade. Depends on
who says it, and how.
Killing
queers might be imaginary anyways.Tthe motivating forces for hate fear
of queers is really complexly inexplicable. I remember little femmy boy
me at age 20. First time I worked building maintenance. Neighbours
called me fag-which, somebuddy spread some bullshit that they were
worried about me touching children. Fuck you. Those children broke all
the lights out on my old station wagon, threw rocks at me.
Ever been surrounded by 10 children throwing dirt at you and screaming
"WE'RE NOT AFRAID OF YOU FAGGOT WITCH !!!" ? Cuz I done that so many times it ain't no thang.
Actually
know what ? I'm working on my shit
were I call people fag for calling
me a fag. There was s'posed to be a theory about that which goes
something like "if you cant ignore them away, and trying to explain
that I'm not really a fag, I'm more like a queer woman who's only
partially male kind of, and I like fags, at least the fags I'm friends
with" that doesn't really work in practice in the field. Calling
someone a fag for calling me a fag kind of works cuz they just called
me fag or something close, so why cant I be a loud dumb idiot too? "Fag"
obviously is something very horrible and ugly and scary to these
people so calling them fags gives them their own shit right back.
Especially having a "fag" call them a "fag". If that's not blowing out
a few of their neurons then at least its something to think about.after
the incident I was at the hardware store with my little punk ass family
picking up a load of wood. After a month I was trying to help work but
I was still half blind and sore I looked like shit and was practically
half dressed with my shirt buttoned wrong and no socks. I was in bad
shape and some dudes in the parking lot start laughing at me a yelling,
"What the fuck are you ?? are you wearing a fucking bra??".
"Fuck you! You have a 40 bottle up your ass you jerk off, bitch! "says I.
They kinda shuffled about a bit looking confused "hey what you say?" says the twice my size guy.
"I said I know you guys, you always at the gas station dumpster. i hear you suck dick for $10 !!"
"Hey, watch your mouth! Don't be starting shit" says dude.
********************************
Bewildering and antagonising assholes, screaming the same shit they scream at me back at them was terribly fun.
The next time somebuddy called me a "WTF is this fag shit" when I was
in a shore side parking lot in just cut offs and a bikini top.
I chased
that guy a block down the street screaming "yeh man, you the fag shit
!! you the faggiest shit in shit town"
He was
seriously screaming and running away from me. My face was still fucked
up and my left eye rolled back so I looked like a crazy fuckin mess. I
called the guy "the fag shit" and I'm sorry, it just all happened so
fast he kind of started it, and I was really really happy to be chasing
a fagophobe down the street as he screamed and ran away. I know I'm bad
and wrong for this behavior. Maybe I could do a lot of gay dishes or
something. I was dishwasher in a gay village delicatessen once a few
years ago. I know the ropes.
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THE MOON LOVES ALL HER CHILDREN !!!!
Its 6 am. I typed this for 8 hours trying to buy enuff coffee to not get kicked out of the all night diner.
Getting
my skull broken was easy. I don't remember shit except some haze of
pipe man. just like getting hit by a car or slicing yourself across the
hand with a box knife, if its bad enuff it dont hurt. At least not for
the first few minutes or even hours.And If your lucky enough to get
really fucked up you might over load on pain so much that it looses its
meaning. Kind of like when you drink a whole bottle of choklit syroppe
and it stops tasting like anything but sugar after you drank down a
pint. Going in to shock is your friend who cares about you so much it
hurts.
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OTHER ISSUES OF TR!NNY PUNK
that might actually exist maybe
tr!nnypunk 009~
The story of running away from home cuz my misstress talked me in to it
and then I slowly go insane and my misstress dumps me and I go to lots
of shitty psychologists for poor people. Watch as I actually get
declared brain damaged in the frontal lobe and thats about all the
doctors do for me over dozens of hours in their waiting rooms
spoiler: - cheap-free psychological councilling is imaginary.
tr!nnypunk 007~
I hate dating and crushing on other tr!ns people. Because tr!nnys are
usually kinda crazy and damaged. Oh I like sleeping with them, and also
forming close tight very loving family unit affinity groups were we
peer support. I love all that shit. Every time I crush on a tr!nny I
wind up with a broken heart, an existential crisis about my own
identity, or lying on the floor of a solitary confinemnet cell with a
bloody face and my back all fucked up.
Visit my shitty unfinished web zine ~ trannypunk.com !!
Hundreds of broken links and non existent jpgs but its gets 2 or 3 hits a day for the last 4 years running !!!
Plus I wrote an article about the mythical $1800 vaginoplasty.
somewhere
near that is an article about how to save up a few thousand for your
stupid surgery fund when your homeless unemployed and crazy.
And there's cartoons too!
Trannypunk is mailed out randomly to zine distros and left in spots were tr*nnys and queers might find it.
ALSO AVAILABLE ONLINE AT trannypunk.com.
Zine is free. But tipping is
encouraged.
Anticopywrite 2012 : reproduce in whole or part as much as you fucking can
writing a zine in 8 hours non stop is fun. Spending 10 hours fixing your spelling and lay out is not quite as fun.!!
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Transexuality Is the Evilest Sub Set of Punkism
may every facet of our transitions
spite the crippled impotent senile god
and his damned pathetic entropic creation
and at once
may every convelution of our wretched bodies
in to our beauty ideals
be guided by the will and reason of our dark master below
