Please Stand Clear Of The Doors...

From one of our many trips to Planet Disney.

"Please excuse the crudity of this model. I did not have time to build it to scale or to paint it.", she muses out loud in a similar timbre to a former reverend cab driver who sobered up and finally let his genius and star-child heart shine, "...what another fun filled week."

I wish to try and capture all of these moments, emotions that whirl and spin on a avocado green, Waring blender speed of frappé. How many levels of code conversion is that exactly? Soul to synapse to muscular contraction upon a device into alphanumeric symbols that have some semblance to a derived spoken and written language that is transmitted by photons or audio into muscle contractions creating neurokinetic signals into other synapses connected to other souls.

Did I lose you in translation explanation?

Good.

Staves off cognitive decline.

Forward this to Senator McConnell. And to "Capital T".

Gratitude counterbalanced with grief. Sweet with sour. Suck the lime. Lick the salt. Swallow the spirit. Inhale the incense. Exhale holy billows. Hack up that soul coughing. Vision blurs with carbon dioxide over-saturation as you squeegee your third eye to see a bit more of the next step. My movements may be as slow as a muscular ventral contraction and extension but, forward motion is still motion.

By Alex's hand. Teacher made him correct "Lady" into "Dady" and label the figures. *sigh*

"Please stand clear of the doors. Por favor manténgase alejado de las puertas.", memory floods until in abundance her throat speaks, " *pause* *ding-dong* Please stand clear of Jim Morrison of The Doors. He is prone to turning into a lizard while on the monorail. He may either launch you through, or crush you between the doors. *pause* Please stand clear of all doors. This is just common sense that your mother would wish to know by now. *pause* *ding-dong* Please command fear of the doors. Even though this is a planet built for children, they do tend to forget about safety, even though we only give them a single steel pole to hang on to while we accelerate. *pause* *ding-dong* Please plan for tears on the floors. Overstimulation and overfeeding makes everybody overtired. *pause* *ding-dong* Please hand steers to the corps. They are too large to take home or on the monorail system. Do not use their muffins as fuel, camera flashes or finger paints. *pause* *ding-dong*"

Planet Hospital will always be a place of bittersweet triggers. Even there, I run into those I wish to see and those I wish to never see again. "Does your blood pressure always run this high at home?", she asked. "Only when I go to the single place all of my siblings in stripes go for their medical support.", I replied, "Especially those who wish me dead, raped or combination of the two."

That place is truly "the only one in town". But, before then, for twenty-two years, it was Alex's place. When I return there, I never need a map. Give me multiple appointments across the entire campus and I will never be late.

Being ill now, or being treated for my congruence journey, is a whirring metal bladed fan I willingly stick my face into. Give me appointments at the beginning of September, there will be a reaction. And I will not restrain my grief like a parent on a monorail. I know that much. Grief needs to expand and do what it is going to do. Even if those who have wronged you ignore your very existence or presence in a waiting room.

"Please stand clear of the...", okay, enough of that.

A clack splashes video across the IMAX curve of my cranium.

"Y'know Ellen...people don't even know how old sharks are, I mean, if they live two - three thousand years..."

"Martin...", she closes the book in Martin's hands as gentle as her voice mutters, "...enough...enough..."

"They don't know.", he lets loose of the book.

"Why don't you put that away?", she places the book out of reach, hands him a full glass of caramel colored alcohol, and settles her black cardigan back against his lap. Martin sips and closes his eyes behind his gold rimmed glasses. He rests his drink upon his solar plexus.

"Wanna get drunk and fool around?", she sips her own glass with a wry smile.

With a relenting nod and a exhausted sigh, he huskily accepts a welcome fate, "Oh yeah."

This is a respite of imperfect perfection that I have desired since nineteen-seventy five. I may not have fully understood what 'fool around' meant. In my mind, it sounded nice. But, I did understand what relief and care meant when pain, anxiety and fear rage through your brain stuck in analysis mode. And the power she had with nothing more than a drink, a whisper and a suggestion of something sweet. Sweet to counter the bitter. Pleasure to harmonize with pain, and as natural and human, as rain.

There is very little sweet in my bittersweet chocolate. But, I feel that balance is changing. And with all changes comes caution, boundaries. Such as it is for all of us who have been traumatized.

"When they called me broken, I knew

When they called me evil, I knew

When they called me ruin, I knew

I would always find my way to you..."

I have a deadline to keep. But, I have disease to recover from. I will rest in my cocoon again. Then, I will attempt another feat. One that I have not done in nearly fifteen years. Despite of these wounds, and being covered in dried blood, these wings will unfurl. These claws will emerge sharp from their hiding places. And this voice will scream until all hear. Those of you who have threatened my Life, who have tried to extinguish my power, will have to decide to take my rise as a warning of consequence or an invitation for forgiveness. There are some sins that I will never forgive. For some, it is already too late.

"I'll show you ruin

I'll show you broken

I'll show you shameless

I'll tear your world open"

She closes her cocoon, settles naked into her bed and puts "Blues In The Night" on the telly as the tears stream from her eyes.

Black is always my happy color. Oh, happy Star Trek Day too.

Fuck male presenting criminal rapist or gamete donor day.

But, if you are a good parent, as I have been told I was, I hope your kids do something really silly for and to you in Love.