Friday, October 19, 2007

Guest Post~the beauty of "FUCK you"

My Cousin C.J. wrote this. I enjoyed it and I hope you will to.

the beauty of "FUCK you"

last week I was on the bus. slouching like a slob in the very back.
also in the very back, adjacent to me, a man got up and let me know: "you need to sit like a LADY!"
my response was immediate and irritatingly innocent:
he mumbled something that i unfortunately didn't make out, and continued up to the middle of the bus to plop his annoyed-ass down.
apparently my unlady-likeness disgusted him so much that he had to move.
when the bus halted at my stop, i turned to him, looked him in the eye neutrally, and said, "thanks for the tip." and waved to him as i stepped off.
his response was so beautiful it makes me shudder with utter glee:
"FUCK you."
all of the evil that he, as a human being, could possibly contain within himself was released in his "FUCK." the "you" might as well have been muttered by a little lamb.
but the "FUCK."
what an amazing thing to witness. what a gift to receive. i don't hear that often enough.
it's one thing to say it to someone yourself. to feel that release. that empowerment.
but to induce someone ELSE to say it to YOU.
to inspire someone to release all that nastiness, to regurgitate the bile of a week of hard livin', to expunge the toxins that are gnawing on their soul, right there before your very eyes. lucky eyes.
as hank williams should've sang,
"praise... the FUCK you, i saw the light."
i felt like jesus as i stepped off the bus. or, well, maybe max von sydow's character in "the Exorcist."
i suppose that if i did in fact, hear it more often, its power wouldn't resonate so strongly within me.

oh, and now the flipside:

the last time i said, "FUCK you" to someone:
a couple of months ago me and this cute dude i was kinda (sorta) dating were at one of those game places (you know, where parents keep one pocket full of tokens and the other full of ritalin) on the boardwalk in Santa Cruz.
we took a break from that hand-skee-hockey-puck-funnest-game-in-the-world-thing and ordered beers.
the beer clerk guy (who by the way, had a face that would make you want to pour salt on it and poke with a stick) looked my id over for WAY too long. so inappropriate. like he was memorizing where i lived and what-not. i felt myself boiling up. and then he delivered the proverbial straw in the form of a barely-but-still-audible-mumble:


so, me being trans, i couldn't help but feel incredibly insulted by this ignorant slug-face who thought it
appropriate to comment on the fact that my id photo looks like a lady but my name is a guy's because it costs about $500 bucks to change your name in california and i barely have $5 to hand to him because all i want is for him to take my money and pour me a goddamn beer so that i can drink all my poor-struggling sorrow away and have a good time.
"FUCK you."
again. all the evil inside of me came out in the "FUCK."
"you"-little lamb.
but that "FUCK." whoa. it felt great.
of course, no sooner had i begun to storm away with the quasi-boyfriend in tow,
than the million variations on my response began playing in the movieplex of my brain.
the best one:
i go ahead and order the beer.
toss it into his face.
grab his collar and pull him over the counter, eye-to-eye with my snarling face.
"what's so FUCKING interesting now, ASSHOLE?!?!?"
and when i say "FUCKING" a bunch of spit flies onto his face and he grimaces and pisses his pants a little bit.

so anyway.
yeah, i prefer getting someone to tell me, "FUCK you"
than to have to say it to someone else.
(having to actually say it, you get all worked up. can't be good for your heart. especially if you're outta shape like i have been lately.)
but i can't wait until the next time either reappears in my life.
as long as it's good.
gonna be hard to top that FUCKer on the bus.

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