Day 460.

I think I write one fairly good poem per month.

Day 459.

Day 458.

Day 457.

Day 456.

I'm not really sure what's going on. At all.

Day 455.

Face smoosh.

Day 454.

Today? Oh, am I ever struggling with notions of masculinity and femininity and the in-between and the outside-of.

Over the past couple of days at work I have been subjected to the highest concentration of the toxic combination of male gaze and male boundary-pushing aggression passed off as sincerity and compliments and why won't I just engage? he's just trying to be nice! since I began working in this particular place. Since this kind of thing has been increasing steadily and slowly, I can't help but to associate it at least partly with the growth of my hair, the femininity and sexual orientation it implies, and the ways it makes invisible to dominant and mainstream culture my queerness and my ever-evolving gender identity.