Saturday, December 28, 2013

2013: review

I was happy to know the one I shouldn't even be in love with (but the fact remains) also gets depressed around his birthday and new year. To obtain an affirmation that I am not the only weirdo. To feel the affinity on so many levels...

Review: 2013 the year began with me working my ass off finishing off the translation of my part of a fashion encyclopedia that got finally published in October. The second book that I've jointly translated, the first was published in 2011, "The Secret History of the Mongol Attire". Then later in January I ran away to Ecuador to try to get over my breaking and broken heart over a year-long (which by November this year became a two-year long) unrequited, very carnal love that shook everything I thought I knew about myself as it was a guy I fell in love with. A little more than three months in Ecuador were a time of reflection, learning of my soul movements, learning some Spanish, helping with the Proyecto Transgenero, doing a weekly radioshow with trans activists around the world. From March onwards I began to have irregular spotting and bleeding that shouldn't happen after a year and a half of hormone replacement therapy, was shocked to my core to see that the people who brought me over wouldn't help, so I returned home in early May cutting my plans to stay in Ecuador for a year. The summer was exceptional: 3 July 2013 marked the passing of the Parliamentary Resolution number 3 that all UN recommendations given to Mongolia in relation to the implementation of LGBTI rights (which yours truly and my ex-wife and colleauges have been working on since 2008) be implemented by the Government of Mongolia, thanks to the National Human Rights Commission's inclusion in their annual report of the LGBT isues (yours truly wrote the report that was the basis of the NHRC's annual repot). Plus: had a team of young, like-minded people to work on the elections observations, had my first gay date ever that went all wrong at the end, not completely without my fault and then two serene months with a girl who was at some point in love with me, but who recognised that her feelings for me were not carnal, but spiritual. The autumn: return of the prodigal heartbreaker into my life, me obsessing even stronger, and it all ending in tears, blood and stupour in late November through his many acts that left no love in my soul. With that love dying, the seeds sown mid-November by an incredibly sensitive, sensual, highly intellectually compatible man have by now overgrown and made the jungle of my heart, despite his circumstances that turned out to be way beyond my wild imagination. December: had my chest reconstruction surgery number 2 in Bangkok, wasn't very happy at the unveiling, I'll think thrice of going under a knife again for a chest reconstruction surgery number 3, and definitely never with that surgeon.

The recurring theme of my life has always been love. For my existence has become love. However, since I don't see any way to go forward, or backward, to that matter, with the one I'm obsessively in love with, I have decided to go to San-Francisco in April, for a month or two. Running away again. Because every time I fall in love, it is an all-engrossing, all-encompassing soul affair that leaves no space for anything else. May 2014 be luckier. Happy 2014!

Friday, December 27, 2013

Women, men and everything in between: phases of attraction - theory number 30

To crave women. To crave their softness, odour, touch. To suddenly realise that I've been craving it all. If only I could find a woman who will mesmerise me to the end of my fingertips... Am back in the realm of female sensuality after two years of being immersed solely in the realm of male sensuality, mostly my own. I guess there are phases of attraction, after all, my theory number 30.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

The eyes of others - II

"The slayer of hearts. The slayer who loves, above all, and who is loved. The gentle assassin, me. Unwitting victims from afar, hearts hemorrhaging, morphing into words, spilling out in music and colours. 
The gentle assassin whose only fault is his limitless heart." 
-- A.N., 10/10/2012

The gentle assassin who "kills" with love. Is that a bad death? I'd say no. Having felt everything that love unlocks in me and having vicariously experienced through others what that unlocked love gives them, I'd say that would be the best death to die from. Time to love again came, and it is Now. How is still the question. What do they see, the eyes of others? But do I even care about what they see, the eyes of others? If that was and still is nothing to care about, what lies ahead? To live without footsteps, to live without a road ahead is what I choose again and again: to remain free of everything that would tie me down and hold me back. The free spirit. The slayer of hearts. The gentle assassin.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл.

мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. мэдрэмж. бодол. үйлдэл. үйлийн үрийн эцэсгүй тойрог юм биз дээ. үйлийн үр тарихгүй байх хамгийн энгийн хэлбэр нь яг тэндээ, тэр үедээ, тэр орчиндоо, хийж буй зүйлдээ, мэдэрч буй мэдрэмжиндээ бүхэлдээ уусах, бас орчныг тэр хэмжээгээр сонор мэдрэг хүлээж авах, мэдрэх. юуг ч үлдээлгүй бүгдийг мэдрэх. тултал. үлдэх зүйл зөвхөн эерэг энерги байхад л муу үйлийн үр тарьдаггүй бололтой. үйлийн үргүй амьдрах нь бүр өөр...

Monday, December 16, 2013

Soul dreams, violent relationships, etc.

Form April 2004, after a year and a half of an unbearable, but extremely sexual relationship with a violent drunkard (who is now no longer a drunkard, but who apparently still beats on their partner), after getting out of that relationship alive (although friends and family always feared that one night they might receive a call from the police telling them that I was dead at their hands), for the first time in a long while I had a rest solely made possible by me being out of Mongolia. A month before that, my then significant other had a jealousy fit and stabbed herself in the gut twice with a small knife over a girl she suspected I was fucking. When I saw the act, I fled. If taking a knife and sticking it in their own guts was so simple, who was to say that I was not going to be next?! I fled for my life. I fled Mongolia a week after that for a conference in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. And then Japan, my Master's studies.

After ten days of being in Japan, I had the most amazing dream: I was in a forest village, but the village was being pillaged by enemies, all the huts ablaze, havoc and screams filled the air. I was terrified, running amok trying to escape all that terror and suddenly there were two horsemen. I clutched at their saddles, right between the two horses - where did all that strength come from? - and on we rode off into the dark forest. We rode for a long time, and I was finally beginning to feel my arms that before didn't feel anything: all my thoughts were about the escape. As I was beginning to feel as if I was about to faint from exhaustion, and the tension of trying to hold onto two saddles of the horsemen who saved me, we finally rode out of the forest and onto the seashore just as the twilight was beginning to thin into a break of dawn. I let go and fell. And so did one of the horses. One of my saviour horses, a white one, lay there snorting heavily. The rider I saw for the first time: he appeared to be a native American-looking man with a stern, deeply etched face, but somehow not unkind in all that severity. He looked on at his dying horse, sorrow filling not just his face, but his whole being. All that while I remember feeling incredibly guilty for had it not been for me, the horse would've still been alive. With the last snort and last breath, the horse died. The horseman lifted his dead white horse as if it was a mere weightless child and carried it into the sea and I folowed them both. He waded into the water, and so did I. The water was tepid, or maybe I was freezing and so the water seemed warm, I don't know, but as I followed them into the sea, he went deeper and then pushed off his horse, saying final words into her/his ear. It was an intimate farewell. I looked up and I saw that the sun was rising, but more than that, I reveled in the feeling of the warm sea. I, too, wanted to be pushed into the water and set afloat. Deeper and deeper I waded. And then I assumed the foetal position because that's all I wanted to do, to be submerged. The water... The luxurious feel of that warm sea is still with me... I don't know how to swim, I knew I had to come up for breath, but I just didn't want to get out of the water. After everything -  the village pillaged, hours or so it seemed of us riding through the dark forest to save our lives, the dead saviour horse - I just wanted to stay in there. And then I took a breath in the water. Instead of water rushing into my lungs, I felt air. I opened my eyes, I was still in the water, but I was breathing! I stayed like that for the longest time in the foetal position, being bounced back and forth by the water... As I became warmer, I relaxed and I floated. Up. I knew I was floating on the surface now. The feel of water, the beautfiful liquid all around me, my safe haven lulling me. After a long time I opened my eyes to see that the pre-dawn greyness gave way to a new morning, with the sun up for a few hours as it was nearly at its zenith. As I lay floating in the water looking up at the sun and the sky, I had this urge to fly. Just to up and soar. And I did. Effortlessly. As I was soaring higher and higher, I looked down and saw that I was laying in the sea where ruby red and dark blue waters met, that I was far from the seashore where I left my saviours. And I continued to soar... And when I woke up, it was with the serenity and happiness I had forgotten. It was mine again. A soul dream. A healing dream. A dream of what was, and what was about to take place.

That relationship was the most violent relationship I had in my life. It was routine, almost, to get strangled. I would faint with that face that I loved so dearly, the last blurry vision... I would come to, see that I was on the floor, my signifcant other sitting on the sofa, not even looking at me. I would scramble to my feet, giant sobs bursting from my chest... Never had I been so violated in my life, and by someone I loved so dearly. Surely it must've destroyed me on some levels. My friends used to tell me that the spark that was uniquely Anaraa was dimming in those one and a half years I spent caged in that violent relationship. Even the so-called feminists I worked with who saw me coming into work with a bruised up neck and face would revert their faces. Especially the one who talks all the talk and never walks the walk. She never asked what was wrong while preaching from podiums about domestic violence as well as any other violence. And I was dying, dying, dying... That relationship nearly broke my wings, but I regained them, and I fly now. I soar every day because I had had that experience of being violated to the core of my being. And the only reason of all that violence was jealousy. My then significant other never trusted me that I wouldn't fuck other people. The truth is, because I was suspected every day, because I had to pacify her every day, because I was sick and tired of her looking at me and noticing me smiling at people and then going home and throwing a rampant violent rage tantrum, I did fuck a girl once. Just to finally fulfill her prophecy. Just to see how it felt to be unfaithful. It was shitful. Never had I before been unfaithful, never was I again, in that relationship or other relationships. Domestic violence is real. And it doesn't matter whether you are in a straight relationship, lesbian or gay relationship. Or even a relationship where one is a trans person. What my ex wife did, her refusal to talk to me about my innermost need to transition, also constituted a violence, although she never admits it now. As my need to transition became stronger, and the more she negated it, I became angrier and angrier. I would fly off at the smallest things, but I never hurt her physically. Verbally, yes. But she, she did hurt me physically, once. And then tried to me hurt twice more, well after we had separated. Just because I said that there was karma, the last one being towards the end of July 2011. Post-transition my life has also not been free of violence: unexpectedly for myself and for anyone, I fell in love with a guy for the first time in my life. He was violent to me on two occasions. Like a fool, I took it. He continued to deny my reality of a transman, called me a woman, a faggot, I took it as a fool. I took it all, swallowed it. But no more.

Violence only begets violence. What happened happened. It can't be undone. And finally, here I am. A transman who had spent his adult life being in relationships half of which were violent, physical or emotional - it's all the same, and I had denounced violence, be it in my intimate relaitonships, or others. I stand for non-violence in everything. No one should be subject to violence. I had to write my story of surviving violence in intimate relationships because of someone. I hope she doesn't repeat my history. I hope no one repeats my history of being violated and taking it as a due, as something that should happen. It is not done. It must not be. I hope she heals. I hope she finds a way out of whatever is ailing her. No one deserves violence.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Reunion, etc.

I had such a very lovely time with my first university classmate Amarbuyan, met her son Eruult for the first time, what a lovely, well-spoken boy! It was a pleasure. As we parted, I said the only words I know are true: everything is a blessing in disguise. Whatever we human beings experience in our lifetimes is meant to make us richer as souls, and that's all that matters, that's all we need to remember. Then wandered off by myself to the MBK for a bit of shopping: some essential oils for burning and a beautifully handmade coconut shell lamp for myself, a necklace for Saku, some lights for my cousin and some friends, and a couple of T-shirts. Now, the rest of the time in Bangkok I will spend quiet and contemplative indoors.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Surgery update

Yesterday was the unveiling, taking off of the post-surgical bandaging and putting on ordinary bandaging with which I can shower. The results of the surgery: I can say that my chest is looking better than before, but the nipples are now non-existent as opposed to reconstructed, my right side of the chest still looks lop-sided. Threw a fit over these. Dr Pichet said he will continue to make it better if I wanted, but I can't, just can't face another surgery on my chest, enough. Too much scar tissue means no sensitivity will be left in the chest skin, and I don't want that, can't have that. But yeah, ok, my chest will look better than before despite the scars. Scars are adornment of a man, but I will at some point get scar treatment, the technology is becoming amazing. Signing off to listen to Zemfira.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Онол номер 29

2004 онд бичиж байсан зүйлсээсээ энд оруулав. Эргээд бараг л арван жилийн дараа харахад яг л тэр мэдрэмжүүд хэв хэвээр... Юу ч өөрчлөгдөөгүй мэт. Гэтэл бүх зүйл өөрчлөгдчихсөн байдаг. Бүх зүйл өөрчлөгдөж байсан ч мэдрэмж хэзээ ч өөрчлөгддөггүйг онол номер 29 болгов.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Зарим өдрүүд | Some days

2017 оны 7-р сарын сүүлээр хэвлэлтээс гарах "Амьдрал, хайр, эрх чөлөө: дэлхийн шилдэг ЛГБТ яруу найргийн антологи"-д багтсан

Зарим өдөр зовнил,
Зарим өдөр баяр,
Зарим өдөр чамайг
Залхаан хилэгнүүлдэг.
Зарим өдөр,
Зарим өдөр юу ирж буйг хараад
Бодсоноос илүү гэрэлтдэг.

Зарим өдөр
Өө, би лав хэзээ ч...! гэхэд
Зарим өдөр чи
Бурханыг үүрд магтан дуулдаг.
Зарим өдөр чи
Бурханыг хараан зүхээд дараа нь
Тэр л худалтайгаа тэмцдэг.
Зарим өдөр ноцолдоостой,
Тэгээд бас гингэнээстэй.
Харин зарим нь
Хохьмой яс ч үлдээлгүй яваастай.
Зарим өдөр гав ганцаарханаа

Эгч минь, юу хэлж буйгаа би мэдэхгүй,
Залбирахгүй л бол өөр хүмүүс ч мэддэггүй.
Хайр л цор ганц хариулт гэдгийг,
Олсон дээр дэнжигнэгч л зөвхөн бүжигчинг би мэдэх.

Амраг олсноосоо унах өнөөдөр
Хэрхэн бид залбирснаас шалтгаалан тогтоно.
Хэн ч үл мэдэх бурхан биш
Бид л бие биеэ тэвэрнэ.
Унан буй мөнх бус тэр бидний ахан дүү.

Зарим өдөр явдаг,
Зарим өдөр гашууддаг,
Зарим өдөр чи бараг л үл итгэдэг.
Зарим өдөр чамд итгэдэг,
Зарим нь ч үгүй,
Зарим өдөр чамд итгэхэд
Харин чи үгүй.
Зарим өдөр шаналал,
Зарим өдөр галзуурал,
Зарим өдөр чамайг
Санаснаас чинь ч илүү баярлуулдаг.
Зарим өдөр, зарим өдөр харин

Гэрэлтэхийн дээдийн гэрчүүд болдог.

Жеймс Болдуин
(хөрвүүлсэн би бээр)

Some days
Some days worry
some days glad
some days
more than make you
Some days,
some days, more than
when you see what’s coming
on down the line!

Some days you say,
oh, not me never ⎯ !
Some days you say
bless God forever.
Some days, you say,
curse God, and die
and the day comes when you wrestle
with that lie.
               Some days tussle
then some days groan
and some days
don’t even leave a bone.
Some days you hassle
all alone.

I don’t know, sister,
what I’m saying,
nor do no man,
if he don’t be praying.
I know that love is the only answer
and the tight-rope lover
the only dancer.
When the lover come off the rope
the net which holds him
is how we pray,
and not to God’s unknown,
but to each other ⎯ :
the falling mortal is our brother!

Some days leave
some days grieve
some days you almost don’t believe.
Some days believe you
and you won’t.
Some days worry
some days mad
some days more than make you glad.
Some days, some days,
more than shine,
coming on down the line!

James Baldwin

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Out with the surgery, in with the plans

Since I'm pretty much broke after this trip (with the rent paid up until mid-March, I really needn't worry about the money), I will hopefully get a few interpretation gigs in the first few months of the next year, with the earnings from which I plan to visit San-Francisco for a couple of months just to be in a place where I will be completely accepted. This, the acceptance of me as I am, a man, albeit a transman, but a man nonetheless, is of utmost importance given the emotional turmoil that's been ruling my life ever since I fell in love, properly with all the sexual feelings as well as emotional feelings just as it used to be with women, with a guy for the first time in my life. The two year-long love that self-sustained showed me the fact that I was still seen as a woman in his eyes. Even after my top surgery, even after my beard started growing, even after my first gay sex. The time we spent together as friends should have shown him my true colours, but he was all too blind to them: he was blinded by his own prejudice and transphobia. He will continue to live his life in blindness, he will live a half-life the rest of his life because he chose to do so. I, on the other hand, choose to move forward, however painful it is. I ran away to Ecuador the first time he shocked me with: "I don't know what to choose". I am not a "what", I am a "who". If he was ever attracted to me, it was to me a man, not a woman since he never even knew me pre-transition. About a month and a half ago, he shocked me once more: "You are the most effeminate fag that I know of". Then about two and a half weeks ago, he shocked me once again: "I see you as an older sister". I took it all, swallowed it all, I didn't even have a desire to punch him in his smug little pretty face because I didn't want to lose him. More than that, I've gone beyond my oath to myself in regards to him: I promised myself that I won't ever allow anyone to touch me in any other way than lovingly, and he has, twice. Enough is enough. It took me a year to come to this final farewell. I will look back on this period of my life and will laugh uncontrollably at his cowardice, transphobia and self-denial. Plus, I need a mirror, and he ain't it. A mirror, someone much like me intellectually, spiritually, who will support everything I do as much I will him/her, who will inspire me and who I will inspire to greater deeds, on the basis of mutual, unconditional love. Since last summer, I came to a conclusion that whoever is my next significant other, it has gotta be someone even more evolved than I am, perhaps, a bodhisattva of some sorts. So, SF it is, and the Buddhist community there, see you in 4 months!

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Bangkok, one more time

With the corrective surgery looming tomorrow or the day after (hopefully tomorrow itself), I am hoping this will be the last time I am here for any surgical intervention in the foreseeable future since I've already decided for various reasons (accountability, costs, recuperation period) to have my second surgery (that will take care of my failing/flailing ovaries, etc.) in Mongolia. I've twelve days ahead in which to go for my surgery, recuperate and then to push home. Initial plan was to bring someone I trusted to film the pre/in/post-surgery to be included in a planned documentary to help move the LGBT rights cause in Mongolia even further as well as to help me out and around post-surgery as my arms simply didn't work well following the first surgery, but things didn't work out the way I planned. No worries. If I get Otgoo to film the process before his departure tomorrow evening (although I've my doubts as to his ability to see the entire surgical gore of the procedure), that will be good, too. My 37th hit and passed without much ado, with much gratitude. Except for the emotional ado that's in the past where it belongs firmly. No matter what. Oh and yeah, this pubescent boy's been getting some action, finally, which I am absolutely thrilled about. A new world opened up as if by magic, and boy, is it magic! If I can only be ungreedy about the new experiences... With Silom plans for the night, hey-hey-hey, who knows!...

Monday, December 2, 2013

сая таван зуун мянгад нэг

Bravery. Kindness. Clarity.
Honesty. Compassion. Generosity.
Bravery. Honesty. Dignity.
Clarity. Kindness. Compassion. 
-- Philip Glass, "Forgetting"

гурван саяд хоёр. харин би цор ганц, хэзээ ч үл давтагдах үйлийн үрийн ноогдолтой нэгэн. хүссэнээрээ амьдрах зориг, чадал байгаа цагт юунд ч сэтгэлээр уягдалгүй зөвхөн урагшлах. сэтгэлийн хүлээсээс ангижирах цаг ирээд өнгөрсөн. сэтгэлээ хоёр жил илүү цөмөртөл нь шаалгууллаа. эргээд харахад бүх зүйл учир утгатай л байж таараа. түүнийг нь оюун ухааны үйл явцаар ойлгов уу, сэтгэлээрээ хүлээж авав уу, бүү мэд. гэвч бүх зүйл жам ёсоороо урагшилж байхыг, бие сэтгэл, оюун бодол маань гацаалтааас гарч эхэлснийг л мэдэрч байна. маргааш үд дунд энэ биеийг олсноор анхны амьсгалаа авч, мөнх бус энэ хорвоогийн алдаа оноо, жаргал зовлон, үйл мэдрэмжийг амсахар ирснээ гучин долоон жилийн өмнө тунхагласан тэр л өдөр болох нь. жил бүр төрсөн өдрийнхөө хавьцаа амьдралаа эргэж харах, тунгаах, дүгнэх, төлөвлөх үйл явцыг хийдгээрээ хийж сууна. буруу хүйстэй ч энэ л биеийг олж төрсөндөө, ээж аав хоёртоо, лгбт хүмүүстээ, амьдралд намайг "би" болгосон бүх зүйлд бүрэн талархах энэ сэтгэл үүсээд хоёр жил хагас болж. одоо ч энэ талархах сэтгэл дүүрэн давалгаалсаар. амьдрал сайхан. хамгийн хэцүүдээ ч сайхан. тамлагдаж, хэмлэгдэж, үйрч бутарч, эс оршихуйн сэвэлзээнийг мэдэрч үгүй болтлоо цөм шаалгуулж байхдаа ч сайхан. гурван хоног нойргүй хоносон өнгөрсөн долоо хоногийн тунгаалт надад "урагшил" гэсэн бодлыг л төрүүлсэн. урагшилхаар шийдсэн. гацаалтаас ангижирсан. одоо бүх зүйл зөвхөн миний сонголт. харамсалгүй сонголтоо хийх. сонголтоороо амьдрах. эмзэглэлгүй амьдрах.


As many of you know, we are doing an online crowdfunding for the first time in the history of the Centre, and it happens to be for the Equa...