Ah, Sunday morning.
Sam made pancakes, I was going to but he took over as he likes to do.
“You do it.”
“Okay.”
“You do it.”
“Okay.”
“Oh give it to me.
While I made coffee.
He put them in the fridge to settle for an hour, as you do with pancakes. Let them rest, gather their strength so they grow up to be as strong as they can be, so they fry up big and lovely. We’re going to have smoked salmon and cream cheese and chives. We were.
We had a film to get to.
What time did you say it was? Really. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! They are going to have to wait, it is midday and we have to leave the house.
Sam’s good, he get’s me moving, he organises me out of the house. No mean feet, I can dither so easily. “Come on! Move! Faster, faster!”
Actually, I don't know why I say that. When I have to be somewhere, I have an uncanny knack of turning up right on time, at the precise hour. I'm never late. I'm only ever late when I want to be. You know. I’m never late by accident.
We headed to the dumpling shop in La Trobe Street. Yum, yum, dumplings. A quick bite and then it is only a short walk to ACMI to the Queer Film Festival.
I love that feeling of walking in twos with my boyfriend, side by side, through the quiet streets, where we can cross the road just as we like, together, forging ahead, together. Feet together.
Do you know what I mean? I can sneak sideways looks at him, give him orders, tell him how to cross the street… and he only smiles. Do you know what I mean?
Being Chaz is at 2.15 we are meeting David there.
Sam wasn’t so keen. “Why do I want to see a documentary about a fat lesbian having a penis stuck on, I ask you?”
He didn’t want to go, at first.
“Okay. We don’t have to go,” I said.
Then he acquiesced. “Okay, get the tickets.”
Maybe it was me who said Chaz was having a penis stuck on and Sam took me literally. That’s just what I heard. I’m sure I read it some where, in the deluge of celebrity news gossip.
Sam hates celebrities, he just glazes over at the mention of the latest marital musical chairs of Brad this or Jenifer that…
The dumpling shop was closed. Not open Sundays. Really? What kind of Asian business is this? It is certainly not run by Mama Chan that is for sure. It must be run by a younger generation of Asians.
“Oh fuck it!”
We ate noodles at Noodle Kingdom instead.
Being Chaz was good. It was all about him having his tits cut off. It was about him getting rid of that part of his body which he hated and which he didn’t want anyone to touch. He hated his breasts because they were not a part of his real self.
Some people think just being gay they have it bad? Imagine changing sex?
It was interesting that taking testosterone that Chaz felt a male sex drive for the first time and commented that women should feel it to know what it is like.
Testosterone made his clitoris bigger. It also changed the shape of his face, his features. I think that is amazing.
The cinema was pretty full, it was the busiest session I had been to. Are people than interested in transgenderism, or is it the celebrity factor?
“Everything is trans,” said David. “That is what the festival is all about this year. Trans.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said David. “I want to be trans.”
“You want to be?”
“Yes.” David laughed. “I so want to be trans.”
"What?"
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