Wilderness, No Festival.

When I look in the mirror, my gray beard lengthening, my teeth giving signals of soon giving out, my age showing around my eyes, I am reminded of the hermits of old, the ones who went into the wilderness as part of their relationship with their god.

Halloween is coming,  Halloween is a milepost for transpeople, though not always a milepost of celebration.  It may be a milepost of denial, of indulgence, of nostalgia — ah, that boy in fifth grade who got to dress as a ballerina — of experimentation, of response, of so many things.  As a celebration of alter-selves, it is potent for us, even if we choose to stay away from it, because it’s filled with amateurs, because we are real and it is false, or because we can’t be that exposed.

But from the wilderness, Halloween is slipping beyond me this year, even that one brief moment society accepts being out in the light and playing with expressing something than the normative.  I miss the planning, the preparations and the bit of hope that Halloween brings.

It is true, of course, that the notion that the Halloween festival will bring what I need has never been proven true, and even in the best case scenario, it would probably not prove true this year.  What I want from other people isn’t simple,  clear & narrowly defined, and that means that I probably won’t get it.

Still, the wilderness is the wilderness, and even with a good notebook, it is still the wildreness.

All I can hold is that my mother in the sky knows what I need, and will eventually chooose to bring me in from the cold.

But until them, it’s only Hermits for Halloween, you know?

2 thoughts on “Wilderness, No Festival.”

  1. Your comment about amateurs reminded me of one of the ironic touches on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

    Whenever Halloween would come round they would comment that it’s a quiet night because the vampires and demons considered it beneath them to go out when all the civilians are wandering around pretending to be monsters.

    Of course, it never actually was quiet.

    Indeed, one year a magician cast a spell that fused people to their costumes, a spell I suspect many trans people would have wished to discover.

  2. Actually, it was a reference to Ed McMahon, Marine, and Grand Marshall of the 1965 Mermorial Day Parade in Hillsdale NJ in which I marched.

    On The Tonight Show, his comedy character was a heavy drinker, and would joke that he wouldn’t go out on New Years Eve because the amateurs ruined it for everyone.

    It’s nice to know Joss Whedon also recycled the joke.

    And yes, my portrayal of “Edwina McMahon” was a breakthrough moment, at least for me and TBB, but that’s just another story no one wants to hear.

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