journeys of a genderqueer

I am deleted from your life so I need to delete you. You make it easy for yourself by making me the bad guy, but of course I'm the bad one, I'm a man, its always my fault. I'm sad and angry. I can't access my own community cause you dominate it. I feel isolated. Struggling, sad that I don't get any support. Wheres my support? Gender is a funny thing we can all [in the queer community] try and deconstruct it and not let it govern us, but when it comes down to it when a girl cries everyone runs to her side, when a man is hurt and angry people push him away, even if he could cry.. people don't see him as vulnerable or someone that needs support, more they see him as a pathetic loser. If he is angry then he is seen as aggressive and should be treated as an abuser even if he has never been violent, he has just expressed his emotions the only way he can. I wish I could cry and be comforted, but I can't.

I feel like I'm not me.. yet... I am working towards me... I feel I'm floating away from my old life and the person I was, further and further I am drifting. I sometimes wonder if I will always feel this way, constant motion, distance, will I find a home again?. But something major has happened, is happening, and it means my life will be completely different forever....past memories, its like a different life.. its not this life I'm in now. I'm starting again. I'm a new person. I'm a child again, but childhood this time is with no parents, no family.. just some friends and a lot of hard work, and a really hard world to do it in. But its not all bleak, not at all, because this time I'm incontrol, I'm stearing the boat, nobody is trying to mould me, I'm moulding myself.

All I'm doing is fighting. Climbing the runner with one hand tied behind my back, people just dropping things on my face from the level above. All I want is to get on, but they don't wanna let me, the police are always there telling me I don't belong, not untill I do this and this and this to conform. Not untill ya know where ya from...so they can put you in ya place. But I'm a pikey gypsy, don't know where I'm from.. my house was torn and the pieces just went flying, and I'm just trying to find them.

I feel so frustrated with all my so-called communities these days, its so bitchy, everyone just attacking each other, feeding each others paranoia and insecurities. Nobody is putting out their hands and saying 'I'll help you' because that aint cool.. its 'cool' to say smart alec remarks.. set up new hollow communities after hollow projects, nothing really in them just plenty labels and plenty of invitations, clock up the numbers on their 'friends page' or put on new events because then its looks like they're actually doing something, when really their just time-wasting and bitchin. Where is THE STRUGGLE!! you know where, it aint there...coz its just some rich kids pretendin they got it hard, and then theres some people who actually have got it hard falling for it!! then falling flat down on their faces, on the fuckin dirt of what isn't there. You know what... fuck the the lot of them! I'll build my own fucking life from the dirt that you give me, your not having my face clocking up your friends page.

Ok so what is Art? what is the point in it and why do I do it?
Art is in itself is a word which is elitist.. implying something is an artform holds it higher than a mundane function or activity, it is a mystifying word, like 'genius', it makes it seem like something only certain people can do. Art is something which can be almost anything as long as somebody says that it is 'art'..and as long as that person has enough status, and so therefore respect, to make people believe them, then it becomes 'art'. These concepts re-enforce ideas of authorship, ownership, property and also hierarchy which I fundamentally disagreewith. Ok so why do I make 'art'
...because it makes me feel better, because it externalises the internal.. because it excercises my ego, because other people think I'm cooler, because if I don't..I go insane! because I think humans have big brains and so they need to do stuff which challenges them. I think art can challenge other people. I think sometimes art can makes people think in a different way. But ultimately I think it does aid more alienation between people.

"visual images now mediate experience so completely that the visual image in itself has become an instrument of alienation" - POETIC MATERIALISM AS PRACTICAL REVOLUTION

So what other ways can I stop myself going mad.. challange myself, other people.. without aiding alienation, without living life through images..

Recently I have had so many invitations for projects.. all over the shop.. I have to be carefull not to be consumed and remember what I want to do.

I want to live my life.. not my art. I want to make things happen that I want to happen. I want people to learn from me. I want to learn. I don't wanna conform. I wanna break the rules. I want to do what I desire, not just express my desire through images.

stillness is illness.. I feel it swelling inside. stale boredom. I am trapped by my own failure to conform yet conformaity traps me further.. can't go anywhere people will oppress me for what I've done or not done how I am or are not. I need to be a good citizan to move around space. I am trapped by being in poverty. Everywhere is taxed. Everything taxes me. My imagination is spilling down the drain untill all that is going to be left is what I can see, the ideals fed to me by the tv.

My friend once said everytime in his life something major changes, the end of a relationship or the death of a friend he gets a new tattoo or a new piercing. ('With the amount of relationships you have, that could end up being very expensive!' I thought)

I've been reading this book the last few days called 'Bodies Under Siege: Self Mutilation and Body Modification in Culture and Psychiatry'... Certain aspects of it really made sense to me. Considering the book is written by a guy who isn't a self harmer.. it really seems to get rid of a lot of the myths surrounding self-harm, and also confronts a lot western attitudes towards self-harmers through drawing on historical and non-western cultural practises involving mody multilation/modification, sacrfice, self punishment etc. What brings people to self-harm? this is a question even I have asked myself, as a self-harmer, because in the culture I live in and in my enviroment so much shame is brought upon someone who hurts themselves physically, it is something to be embarrassed about, you end up believing what people tell you; i.e your an attention seeker...its a cry for help..you are suicidal..you are crazy etc etc yet it is totally exceptable to get totally trashed when you feel shit..or chain smoke some fags when your stressed.

The main interesting thing that repeatedly comes up in this book, is that harming the body is often used in many cultures as a way of healing it. This may sound strange, but I think it makes a lot of sense, if you think about it, in most religous books there will be stories of iconic figures/heroes/heroines perposefully going through periods of intense pain, whether its jesus giving us his body, letting himself be stoned at the cross, or tibeten monks beating themselves with sticks, starving themselves, depriving themselves of light etc. Also in some tribal communities, stories of shamens going through levels of consciousness, different plains of existense where what they have bascailly gone through..is HELL, having their skin torn off, there flesh cut into pieces, being burned.. and then 'dying' and coming back to life and more able and wiser person to then heal others.
So can pain heal? can the spilling of blood heal? what is it that heals us.. the fact that in some other cultures they may believe that cutting certain parts of the body releases demons or bad spirits has never entered my mind when I have cut my-self, neither has it ever felt like a sacrifice for my community or for god.. but yet I have often noticed a certain ritual happen when I have cut myself, but it is a ritual that has come from me. Maybe it is like a lot of ritual, a way of confiming something to the self. When a person does a magic spell they are not speaking to the spirits because who says that spirits speak english or any language for that matter, the words in a spell are to confirm an intention to the self.. to channel an intention. If that is the case what am I channeling, what is the intention in my ritual? is it to heal?...

When I have harmed myself it usually happens when some event has happened, something which has made me snap inside, a revelation (a bad revelation, but a revelation none the less), something that usually makes me angry. And the act of hurting is a confirmation of that revelation, that intense feeling. It could be a revelation about a person you loved, your family, a belief you held, yourself, the system as a whole. Sometimes cutting is angry and violent, sometimes cutting is carefull and considered depending on the revelation which has accured... the more I think about it the more it can be like painting or drawing.. or making music... the ways in which I have cut myself have a pattern, they can be symbols that mean something to me in that moment, even if they don't make sense to anyone else. But there is an element to it which you can't get out of drawing or painting... its like the blood, the pain and the scarring are all part of the spell.. all part of what you have learned, the pain you've felt, the physical process of what you are going through inside, on the outside, pain then healing.

Even as I describe it I also know that it is not that simple. Sometimes I think its about freedom, or settin yourself free.. when you have felt trapped for along time (maybe in depression, or in mundanity, or in a relationship) sometimes something snaps inside you, you no longer care about what people think, usually because you have gone beyond any kind of respect for people, the world or life, that is why the scars don't matter, that is why the blood doesn't matter, that is why the pain doesn't matter, because in that instance you no longer care what people will think of you, and although the reasons for that may be really bad, the process that you are going through is freeing you enough from the situation to get some perspective..

Ok, I realise I sound like I am glorifying it, I do not reccomend it to anyone by no stretch of the imagination, I just believe that is just as much a valid way of dealing with things as is getting trashed and shagging someone you really don't fancy, which seems to be a common way of dealing with things, I do however think just cutting youself is only a temporary way of dealing with something, I think this because when a person cuts themselves they usually forget or sweep under the carpet what they have learned, they don't see it as a sign to change certain things in their life. But if the things that get you down are things that are very difficult or impossible to change, like being in a repressive society for instance or being in prison (similar things in my book), then at least its not killing yourself, at least its not for ever.


By the way this is just what *I* think, and right now, this is not however what I think self-harm is for everyone and might not be what I think tomorrow.

Time lapsed as the fucking organsm still fucked.. the boys soft and hard body grew.. the creature returned to the genderless genderful human form.. eyes glowing and mouth open.. rocking harder and harder against the boys body... electric energy surged through their fuck machine... sweat poured from every pore on every part of both of their bodies.. images of hard cocks and wet holes rubbing against and inside each other ran through their minds, tits moving, muscles tensing and cum flowing...both screaming, growling and moaning, the creature took charge of this cum, moving even harder, pulling the boys nipples hard and screaming at him... shouting words that changed in the boys head from 'give' to 'take' depending on what moved him harder into a cum... then both just shouted to their gods which were in fact, themselves... and cum and sweat just poured down as they slowly stopped and collapsed on each other... the boy now a grown-up and the creature still the gender-free person they were before. Covered in musk and the faint but increasing sound of music outside and animals talking, each others heart beating. Soft breathing..sinking into a strong wet kiss. The boys questions were answered. They now went to sleep.

The boy was layed on his back and the genderless genderfull person crawled ontop of him.. the person transformed from animal to animal, gender to gender..cat, bull, man, woman, lizard, bird, fluid like some mythological shapeshifting beast, the person touched the boys soft flesh and hard muscles, grazing each of his nipples with the soft stubble on the creatures face. Always a mixture of masculine roughness and feminine gentle teasing.. power shifting as fleetingly as with the creatures changing expressions. But Always love. As the beast touched the boys breasts they changed into hard muscled pecks and as the creatures finger moved down his stomach, scratching his belly flesh, down the centre grew hair in curls and became a path that the person made as their hand moved, downward, untill it reached the wet cunt of the boy, the boy moaned, his body looked like what he always imagined it should, and felt better than he ever could imagine, all apart from his wet cunt, which felt amazing but wasn't what he always wanted, but he didn't care..the person caressed his clitoris, as the boy became increasingly excited the clitoris grew into a large erect penis, the creature taking it in its mouth and hands, licking it up and down with its large tongue and long fingers, the fingers then probing into him.. he didn't care what the creature was entering,. all the parts of him no longer had labels, he was just a fucking organism..no gender, just roughness and gentleness, just holes and phallouses, ridges and curves...and most prominantly, he felt amazing. Now he could feel a phallous entering a hole, but he had no clue who's or where or how..the creature just moved hard against him. Growling like a tigar. Clawing his shoulders and neck.. licking the sweat from inbetween the boys chest curves with its long lizard tongue. They fucked hard, sweating and growling, screaming and scratching, biting and humping.

...The person waved both hands in a magical gesture, like magic, the boy was compelled to take all of his clothes off, he no longer felt ashamed, the person sat infront of the boys naked body, and tied a string with feathers and beads over the boys head. They both sat there in front of each other, they felt the same. The person touched the boys body all over..kissed him gently on the face, then on the lips, the warm moist kiss of this creature filled him with love.. and he could feel it healing all of his wounds, all the confusion, all the tormenting remarks, the abuse he had taken, all was soothed by the warm kiss of this beautiful creature. The beautiful creature took the boys hand and took him down onto a bed.. the bed was small and covered with hand inked material, the mattress was made from soft hair from some animal.. and smelled of a mixture of animal, burnt wood, flowers and delicious bitter/sweet sweat and cum. The person/creatures eyes were lit with desire at the boy, like a cat who'd caught a mouse.. but the boy wasn't scared, he knew he was safe and his own desire kept him firmly there, he felt a strange mixture of complete submission to this wonderful being and in total control of everything...

Once upon a time there was a boy.
The boy ran around all day doing amazing but also totally mundane shit things.
He lived in a world where everyone said he was a girl because he had breasts and a cunt. They would say that stuff that he wanted to do and the way he was acting was like a boy. The boy didn't know what to do, for this was just how the boy was and even if he tried to be a girl he never quite got it right, and anyway, he didn't feel right at all being that way and what ever he did they would make fun of him for it.

People never accepted him as as a full person, he was always not man enough or not woman enough... so this boy never grew up, never became a man or a woman.. when he tried to do the things adults did he got stopped. He got ID'd everywhere for buying cigerettes and booze, didn't get let into clubs and didn't get taken seriously by anyone. One day when walking along a street he walked through a bus shelter, as he walked through he became magically transported to another time and place, or at least it seemed so, the ground was dry and muddy and people lived in houses made from mud and straw. They wore very little clothing, they were not ashamed of they're bodies, they walked almost naked with total confidence. The boy asked them if they thought he was a man, for some reason he thought that might know and they said yes, but of course you are, he must of grown up to one when being transported their! he saw a hut with masks attached all around the outside, he could see light shining inside the hut. like a fire was burning, he walked into it, there was a person inside. The boy could not tell the gender of the person. The person was adorned with the richest array of beads and feathers. The person was totally calm, like in a trance. The boy felt welcomed in by this persons state of calm.. he asked the person, curiously, if they were a man or a woman?.. the person answered in a calm way that they were both and neither, they had been male and female.. been human and animal, spirit and body.. all and none.. The person stood up and then unashamedly displayed their body. A small penis lay on top of cunt lips. Soft hair growing down from above the cock to below it and over the cunt lips. Two small breasts with peirced hard nipples stuck out at him....The boy felt his own nipples harden and his cunt become moist, his clitoris grew untill it felt like a huge penis inside his boxer shorts..the beautiful mixture of feminine and masculine, and the energy of the person made his body ache.. he knew the answers to his questions were only gonna be fullfilled through this person.

To be continued.

Meng / Youthful Folly



_____
__ __ above Ken KEEPING STILL, MOUNTAIN
__ __
__ __
_____ below K'an THE ABYSMAL, WATER
__ __


THE JUDGEMENT

YOUTHFUL FOLLY has success.
[Not knowing everything can help you achieve what you want?]
It is not I who seek the young fool;
The young fool seeks me.
[You cannot try and be foolish, it is something which you become]
At the first oracle I inform him.
If he asks two or three times, it is importunity.
If he importunes, I give him no information.
[Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you ask, you will have to just wait and see]
Perseverance furthers.
[Just keep going, don't stop to ask]

THE IMAGE

A spring wells up at the foot of the mountain:
The image of YOUTH.
Thus the superior man fosters his character
[You'll be a better man if you cultivate your character,
nurture good parts, weed the bad]
By thoroughness in all that he does.
[Be thorough in everything you do]

THE LINES

I got nine in the second place and six in the third and fourth places.


Nine in the second place means:
To bear with fools in kindliness brings good fortune.
[To be kind to people even if they are foolish, brings good fortune]
To know how to take women
Brings supreme good fortune.
The son is capable of taking charge of the household.

Six in the third place means:
Take not a maiden who, when she sees a man of bronze,
Loses possession of herself.
[Do not go with a woman who goes for money over love]
Nothing furthers.

Six in the fourth place means:
Entangled folly brings humiliation.
[Pretending to understand when you don't brings humiliation?]

I am wearing a pinstripe dark blue suit.. pale blue shirt, dark blue tie, red rose in my pocket.. you are wearing a bright red top and bright red knee high socks and a 40's cream coloured lace dress underneath and converse pumps with pink laces. We are dancing slow next to a tree in the middle of a green field, the sun is setting. we are next to an old record player..where tunes of billie holiday are playing.. you kiss me gently on the face, your hands straightening my collar.. and whispering the words into my ear...

...Some thoughts I may or may not construct into an article that makes sense.

Fear, Depression and living with suicidal thoughts.

On average I reckon I think about suicide 20 times a week. Sometimes I just fantasise about it.. like its a dream.. or a story I'm creating in my head... sometimes when I'm in a low patch I will desire doing it...obviously because I'm writing this I have never actally gone through with it to its conclusion. Suicidal thoughts result in a range of different ways, either writing.. sometimes getting angry and doing strange things like breaking things in my house or my possessions (or other peoples possessions), or sometimes breaking myself (cutting, burning, boozing, smoking, drugging etc).. sometimes by becoming a hermit (a sort of mini suicide of sorts)... sometimes, if I can think a bit more outwardly than just myself (and slightly more hopefully).. I can transport these dark feelings into creative projects... a desire to help people... a desire to change the world to stop myself feeling so bad about the world I live in. I heard a great quote once "My depression is like a spade, its is heavy but I can dig with it" I think it is important not to see depression as an illness or disorder nessessarily, if you do then you will see it as a weakness...or a disability, remember sadness and fear do not in themselves disable you.. they are just feelings.. it is the mindset of victim or disabled person which is the disabling factor.

Fear and anxiety are the biggest roots of suicidal thoughts... a fear of not being loved enough, a fear of pain, you may fear a loss of status, a fear of not achieving your goals, a fear of not living up to expectations.. these can all be enough to send you over the edge... suicides often increase around exam periods at colleges, at christmas periods etc why do you think that is? I think its a fear of not achieving your goals.. or living upto expectations.. and ultimately that mostly boils down to the fear of losing the respect and love of your peers/family... I find what often helps in these situations is looking at a bigger picture.. whats the worse case scenario?... ok so (this is hypothetical)...you haven't been to your dujitsu classes for six months.. and your dream was to be a champion... ok the worst that will happen is you get a bit flabby, your not a champion.. some people might fancy you less... you might not get as much sex, you might not have as much respect from your peers... but who cares! you can deal with that! and if thats the worse case scenario and you can deal with it then stop worrying about it! Do as much as you feel like.. push your self if you can.. but don't let fear end everything altogether. Do what you can to make yourself feel better. First step could be just getting up and getting dressed... Or doing some sit-ups or going to see your teacher to sort something out... phoning someone you haven't spoken with for ages... filling out a form that is overdue... but before that first step, if fear makes you want to recoil and go back to bed, or put a razor blade to your skin... try welcoming the fear, meetin it face-to-face... let it flow through you like a wave... don't worry about being worried, feel it...if you accept it you have control over it... it then will start to disapate and you will feel more at ease... or perhaps the feeling will excite you (this has happened to me) and you will feel energised by the adrenaline into action..

What am I?

I could say, I don't believe in gender or sexuality... but to some people their gender and sexuality catogory is very important to them and for validating their identity. For example being a woman.. or being a lesbian or being transgendered or even calling yourself something quite fluid like 'genderqueer'... I have recently said in a journal entry that I believe labels are tools to aid us to describe who we are.. what we have been through... etc etc, I'm no longer sure if this is the case...

My friend D talks about the voice a lot, shes the singer of my band, she says the voice is something which is constructed out of a 'scitzophrenic arrangement of a million floating I's', I think what she means by this is a voice can project millions of identities as we absorb identity from everything we touch/experience and a lot of which we don't, we learn it through history, books, film, imagination etc, a lot of which we absorb and all we absorb becomes part of our voice... and also conflicts with itself... it contains identities that seem opposing, or seem unconnected, or seem like they cannot exist in one voice.. like a simple example would be it containing strength and weakness, evil and good, real and dellusional...etc etc.... we can have the voice of a predator and of prey... prisoner and a prison guard...

I think this is the same with our 'personality'.. which I think, for the purpose of this article, is a better word than identity because the problem with identity is that identity is the system of describing ourselves.. personality IS ourselves... and by that I don't mean like some core being... I mean the constantly changing.. conflicting with itself.. chaos self.. the problem with identity is as soon as it is stated it restricts because it can only ever use the labels and words we are given... and it often only exists also as one word.. like woman, gay, lesbian.. and the one word, or I, has many meanings, descriptions, no matter how you try and make them mean what you want them to mean they still mean different things to different people and probably don't describe you very well.

So I believe our personalities are also a schizophrenic arrangement of a million (and by a millions I don't mean the number I mean an unthinkable amount an undefinate amount) 'floating I's', we are not one person, we are lots of people (and animals, probably plants too!) people we have met, seen, heard, read or even just imagined... we are little fragments of all of this.. all of which are constantly moving, fading and shining and growing.. feeding of each other...conflicting... kllling parts off and then them parts becoming tiny memories and then disappearing and then maybe coming back as ghosts and then taking over us again...or maybe not...how it changes is different from person to person.

So when it comes to gender/race/sexuality/Class etc it is difficult because this is identity, this isn't ourselves... it is how we describe ourselves because of our color, who we sleep with, whats between our legs, our economic background, how we feel, what we desire, but identity is also important because it is how we have been catogorised and has determined which way we have been oppressed.. this is the conflicting problem... its important because of how we are catogorised.

The identity given to me at birth because of my cunt, or more likely, my lack of penis, is 'woman'... The identity given to me by the people who don't know me on the street probably ranges from 'Dyke' to 'Adolescent Boy' to 'White skinhead thug' to 'Trendy art student' or possibly 'Transgendered person'.... The identities I have given myself secretly and outwardly over the years range from Boy....Butch....Masculine female....inbetween....???....Dominant....submissive....faggot....straight boy.....dyke.....BiSexual.....Feminine woman......Stone Butch.....Genderqueer.....Transgendered....man......Girl...... As much as I might say I feel male and have always felt male... and by the way, I am not lying when I say that..... I have definately felt 'male'...BUT.... I still don't know what it feels like to *be* a man? I don't know what a man *is* really?... I have definately felt my cock.... I definately fantasised about physically being male, I have definately felt a very male 'energy' flow through me when I fuck people, but how much of that is just playing roles I've seen and heard?...how much of that is fetish? how much of the whole of me is roles or fetish?

I do *know*, however, that I have never fantasised about being physically female...but then again I have felt a lot of things people *assocciate* with being female, i.e I have felt nurturing, submissive, passive, protective, bitchy, objectified... I have also felt a lot of things associated with being male...aggressive, dominant, active, ignorant, violent, insensitive, logical, practical, powerful etc....but I think everyone has.... haven't they?.. thats what I mean when I say we are made up of millions of I's, we are often all those things, and sometimes we are those things at the same time...

I cannot separate myself from the identity I was given at birth.. it has a lot to answer for... I cannot I separate myself from the identity people give me now, even if I feel it is wrong... I know how I *prefer* people to see me (at least most of the time)... I know how, when people see me like that, I feel good, sexy etc... I know that when I see myself like that I feel good... but I also know that it is not all I am... and sometimes is not who I am at all!... but it is as much me as anything else and it is what I like.

But would I be happier if we did not have to label ourselves with words and we could just explain with our bodies and sounds and music what we are, where we have been and what we desire... can't I say with my eyes who I fancy... and how I want to fuck with my kisses (or my lack of kisses)?.. but we live in a world of systems of symbols and words, a system that assumes I am a certain way because of my tits and so I have to fight back with my clothes and my labels... and when the world fights me with words and symbols I need to fight back with them too... but when we get over that then its time to use the eyes and kisses instead... or maybe we can use both.

x

Sometimes its hard to hold on.so much is happening.I'm moving fast but times going slow.a week is an eternity.next time I see you I'll be someone else.but I'm trying to hold on.but your so far away.and I'm ready to go.I know the direction I'm going isn't as good.but your too slow.

As I've been looking into ways of treating my depression..

I have found I am most probably histadelic (see Previous article) [Excess Histamine Levels], which means that I am more likely to have compulsive behavior, depression, high metabolism, High sensitivity, allergies, over active imagination, higher sexual desire, prone to suicidal thoughts, large appetite, be more creative, get more colds and many more things.
The reason a person may get this is most probably due to diet or perhaps an inability to digest certain amino acids. 40% of schizophrenics have histdelia. You can have your histamine levels checked to see one way or another if you suffer/benefit from this.

I reason I say suffer/benefit because obviously some of the symptoms are not negative, a fast thinking mind, a big imagination, higher creativity, higher sexual desire and high metabolism may not be negative things, but if you suffer from suicidal thoughts and depression, perhaps uncontrollable and scary delusions or if your sex drive is out of control and it just leaves you frustrated, obsessive, disturbed then maybe its worth looking into treatment.

Another aspect of histadelia is that symptoms can inscrease in spring and summer seasons, this is because histelics are senstive to hot weather, bright light, pollen. I have noticed that I get more depressed and stressed in summer, and also much more allergic.

I have found out that the amino acid Methionine is what mediates your histamine levels, so a diet that is high in methionine should sort out your histamine levels. Foods that are highest in methionine are Sunflower seeds, Spinach, Green Peas and corn, foods that high but not as high are Broccoli, Mushroom, Cauliflower, Avocado, Bean sprouts, potatoes.

I personally eat a lot of these foods already but I still seem to suffer, so I have just started to supplement methionine because maybe I need more.. or my body is inefficient at absorbing it. This may mean I need to look at why my body is inefficient at absorbing it. But first I will see what happens with the supplements and I will see if my symtoms decrease, I will monitor this through writing in my journal and my diary. If this doesn't work I will have to seriously look at why my body doesn't absorb it.. maybe there is another vitamin/amino acid/mineral that I am lacking that helps the absorbtion of methionine. I read in certain books calcium is also helpful for high histamine levels but have not found out why, maybe it helps methionine to absorb? maybe not.

Anyway there is many Amino acids that help your body do many different things, I found this really interesting article which list many amino acids and describes what they help with, you may be able to work out what you are lacking though these descriptions.

Info on amino acids and what they do for you:
http://www.theamericanvoice.com/aaaefr.html

Help in diagnosis for histelia:
http://www.diagnose-me.com/cond/C447056.html

Info on methionine in food:
http://www.hcusupport.com/diet.htm

Depression and histadelia
http://www.campaignfortruth.com/Eclub/100702/depressionandsuicide.htm

I found this on a website.. found it really interesting.. as I have all the symptoms..


Have your histamine level checked

We all produce histamine, but some of us produce more than others. When histamine levels are too high, a person is more likely to be depressed, compulsive and have abnormal thinking. Histadelics – people who produce high levels of histamine tend to produce more mucus and tears and so can cry more easily. They have a faster metabolism and are fast oxidisers and the rapid oxidation means a person can eat a lot and never gain weight. They usually have long fingers and toes with the second toe longer than the big toe. Histadelics usually have an easy and well-sustained orgasm and higher than usual sex drive. They also often suffer from insomnia, are hooked on excess sugar in tea or coffee and like alcohol and other drugs having a high tolerance level. If you have the signs of high histamine, it's worth having your histamine levels checked?

If I have this, it explains a lot.. I have suffered from depression all my life.. even when I was a child, and aswell as that I have suffered from really bad aesthma and allergies..but even though I've suffered from depression I have always had a extemely high sex drive and large appetite which are the opposite effects that usual depression suffers get. I have always eaten a LOT of food and never been really fat, sometimes I have been chubby but that was puppy fat when being a kid. My second toe is also longer than he rest of them! How weird is that!!

"Queer desire does not transcend or remain peripheral but instead becomes central to their telling and remembering, there is no queer desire without these histories nor can these histories be told or remembered without simultaneously revealing an erotics of power"

This may not make sense to you (nor does it me entirely) but I read it in a book called 'Impossible Desires : Queer Diasporas and South Asian Public Cultures', which I only read the introduction to as it was my friends book, I cannot fully explain what its about right now without the book to hand... I'm working on it... but it did inspire some thoughts about desire, history, nostagia and relationships.

It made me think about how when queer desire occurs it doesn't seem to be created from some nostagic past like 'straight' desire can be, it cannot romantise the past as a good a thing in the same way hetrosexual desire can, because queer history is full, on many levels, even integral formative levels, of conflict and abuse (most of the time) so therefore queer desire is quite unique in the fact that it often starts in the present rather than formed from some romantic ideal of the past, but it doesn't ignore the past either.

Sometimes it may consciously erotisizes that conflict (and that power relationship), and by doing so also dealing with it, not sweeping it under the carpet.

In the book it also talks about 'homes', the idea that we can have many homes and these homes can seriously conflict with each other, especially if your queer. For example being from a muslim background you may have strong links with that 'home' or community and you may also have strong links with the queer community, both of these 'homes' are massive parts of your identity but they, on a fundamental level, conflict with each other... and so on an internal level we are torn. What can be born of this is a lust or erotizisation of that conflict... For example with race...

I have grown-up as a working class white girl on a mixed council estate, in this 'home' there was quite a bit of race hate going on at different degrees at different times... asians, black and white kids torn apart by bitter fudes between families, kind of to do with race but more about gang mentality... my perspective of this was influenced by my brother being a skinhead and a skinhead that had some part in the aggression ('paki basher' in other words), I am not proud to say this... but his gang was one of those 'homes' to him and subsequently also for me in some way (I loved the scooters)... but what also was my other home was a contradiction because I had close friends of whom were black and asian, my first boyfriend was mixed-race and my best friend was his sister, they were almost like another family to me. That home felt better than any other home in a lot of ways, but I didn't belong there because it wasn't my family and because I wasn't white.

On top of that I also had a the ripping of homes because of my gender too, my girl home and my boy home... my girl home was my mother, my schitzo phycadelic mother with her dressing up box and cosmic spirituality, my boy home was my skinhead brother, with his scooters and his racist/nationalist attitude... I prefered the boy home to the girl home... but prefered the home I had with my mixed-race friends to the racist attitudes my brother had. Mixed up with all that is the fact I got a kicking everyday at scholl and home for being weird and being a tomboy, my strange combination of tomboy/weirdo and dirty, white-trash probably didn't help... so all my formative experiences are about conflict.. this, as you can imagine, has a massive impact on my desire in similar ways to what is described above...

I cannot romantise the past to create my desire like most people... all thats in my past is conflict so all I can do is erotisize that conflict and that power or completely forget it, which is impossible.. so because of such I'm like a weird mix-breed of skinhead masculinity, anti-fascist views, a total erotisation of violence and power, and a total attraction/erotisization to what I also despise, authority figures, fascist skinheads and on the other side what I dont despise but have involuntarily been in conflict with, i.e non-white people.

In the book they referance the film 'My Beautifull Launderette' a lot, so if you want more insight into what I am on about, watch this film, its a fucking good film anyway.

All my feeling flowing through my body and mind..obsession, dream, desire, compulsion, addiction, lust, fantasy, love, hate, boredom, anxiety, tired, inspired, dopey, content, hurt, fear, anticipation, hunger, nausiated, stale..I try and make sense of things through tarot..I pull out a card at random..The Tower...Tall dark tower, height of mysticism, trapped in a phallous, trying to fly free [from patriarchy? from my own masclinity, from gender?]. Doesn't help..makes my mind go carry on spinning..Stillness I find between my knees.....breath in.....breath out.........let it all flow through.........phewwwwwwwww..........little niggle.. here and...there.........SSS....TO.....AHHHHHOHHHH.. ....PPP!.......thiiiiiiiinkiiiiiing..........breath...........in...
.................out...............