Put dead skin cells on.

Walking through rusty water, abandoned lake-pool, big library.

Kids riding their bikes on the path partially submerged in water. I was enchanted by their image, skin matching rust tones. I thought about making a movie here.

Missing trains because of floods. Dark compartments.


Chores take half the day on a Saturday, no matter what. Got computer from Daniel/Kendra’s. Said hi to Elise. They invited me for a spritz later. I said I might come if there was time before going to Venice.

But I didn’t go for a Spritz or to Venice. I cancelled my date even though my outfit was great and I wanted to go to the Arte Laguna opening. I just felt like working at home. Also I didn’t want to be trapped in parties because I would miss the last train, and then to share a bed is to be uncomfortable and to put up boundaries against sex. If it’s not a hell-yeah it’s a no, as they say.


House sitting for an assortment of dogs and cats, accidentally let them all out and they charged past me.

Dad asking about when I’ve done drag, if high heels and false eyelashes are painful to wear for that long, I said yeah. He wondered why anyone would voluntarily identify with female gender roles.

We were sitting with Jessie Parker, Kristen, and Deyla. At a dream-composite house similar to Jay St. Everyone talking about their problems. I changed the present into the future by narrating what it would be. Jessie getting married to a girlfriend, everyone living separately but on the same property like a commune. I didn’t know what I would do though.

I was playing with a modular many-legged table, black and white, one section plugged into the next. I was talking about the design and the saying it would be a pain to dust. No one heard me as they all went outside to smoke.

I was driving on a mountain with a middle age Japanese man and he just up and died. The clouds above us were magnificent. There was an overlay of narration, something about how he was the kind of guy who would just up and die.

Oh, and walking back from somewhere thinking I should do drag to Beyoncé’s killing me softly. Did Beyonce actually do a version of Killing Me Softly? I didn’t look it up when I woke up, and still haven’t. Everyone knows if I did drag it would be to Pharmakon.

Lately I’ve been listening to “Hal0” while walking home and when it drops I  sprint and it’s really fun.


I saw Teresa Mascia in a dream. She was wearing a dusty rose skirt. She beamed and waved as she walked by. It was nice to see her.

Never know anyone, or yourself… because you can’t. Because there isn’t. That’s how it just now felt, more or less, and earlier today too.

Like at the Imago Mundi meeting, agreeing on a concept. I disassociated for a moment and we were just containers for nervous systems with all words meaningless. In us and through us: blank space.

And just now, thinking about “cute” and remembering Jess use the word the last time we saw each other, and thinking the way they said it was it. (Cute). And I never knew Jess and never will know anyone.

The memory of having that crush and then being rejected is on a feeling-loop whenever I think about it. And now I’m trying to avoid giving those feelings to someone else again. By lying. But not really, just halfway. By not being fully honest because mightn’t full honesty result in emotional catastrophe? I don’t have the time.

How did I dig this hole and am I building a house in it? Wasn’t it all sealed in that first 10 minutes of looking in Kamille’s eyes?

Old Dreams

1: I was calmly explaining the benefits of veganism as the cruise ship burned around me.

2: A kind of mangy mountain lion that was about 6 feet tall on 4 legs wanted to come into the house. It was cute and dangerous and needed a bath.

3: I was hugging Hoku goodbye. I joked that he shouldn’t die and we both laughed.

4: Two butterflies, one solid purple and the other solid green but both glowing and slightly transparent – as though from a spirit realm – were hovering in front of me. I knew they represented permanent love through impermanent form because it was my dream.

5: There were transparent cubes with images inside. You could see deep into the layers. One contained miniature dolphins swimming against a backdrop of space – little functional universes appealing to 90’s kid trapper-keeper nostalgia.

6: I asked everyone if they remembered a dream I had had when I was sixteen, about the guru in a cave who told me about fire dog yoga. In that dream we each got to ask the guru a question and I asked him how he felt. He said he had to poop. In my dream from this afternoon I was a pop star and was flipping around much like the guru in a cave had.

7: Buildings were exploding all around me as part of a new advertising scheme.

8: Dad was asking me and Noah to kill a donkey in a video game for dinner. Mom was asking me what I wanted to do and I started yelling that I didn’t like any of the options.

9: I evaded security guards near a towering wall but they caught up with me, firing a gun and shattering my glasses. They threw a knife through my right foot as I jumped off a cliff and onto an expansive lawn. When I arrived at the picnic I noticed my foot was gushing blood and I knew if we played spin the bottle no one would want to kiss me.

10: I was told I had to kill the thing I loved most so I was taking my brother somewhere to get rid of him. I thought angrily that this didn’t have to happen, and pulled into a parking lot to devise another plan. Some acquaintances were in the lot and one of them shot me in the throat. I fell backward with the momentum, realizing that I would die shortly. Then I decided that was a bad idea and turned my body into a wave of rubber, rising from the ground and saying: “I am M Wingren and I’m great.”

Internal Pocket

I was Johnny Cash and I had two sons. They looked just like me and their mom combined. Later, I was having spaghetti dinner at the restaurant and saw my boys’ mother through a window. I said we had to leave. One of my boys mentioned their mother discouraged wasting food – said it was bad for the planet. I agreed and did not say anything about veganism.

The Spanish restaurant had this special green sauce that tasted deep, herby, and salty. I saw the guy from the party. Buff arms, tribal tattoos, and the same demeanor as the un-sober guy from Whole Foods. We hugged tightly on an office chair. It was a sweet embrace and I wanted him to leave.

In this open room I discovered my white button down had an internal pocket. This would be good for carrying my passport in summer, without a jacket. I filled the pocket with too many things.

Blood Buddies w/Mosquitos

For breakfast in Marfa I fried the crumbling remainder of our tortillas into chips topped with avocado, caramelized tomatoes/onions, and green chile.

We bought more tortillas and upon arrival in Austin made habanero pineapple guacamole, fried potatoes, beans, and brown rice for our tacos. For dinner that night we were invited to the Mass Gallery owner’s house and he made us tacos. The next day we had tacos for breakfast.

When we were camping in West Texas we made curry though, and went swimming in the river, where we saw a snake. I did pull-ups on a mysterious metal structure. We looked at constellation apps on iphones, looked at the stars, and slept under them. I used the base of my installation as a sleeping pad and didn’t sleep much due to being cold.

Around sunrise I dreamed Hoku’s dad was suggesting that I scar the skin on my face to make geometric patterns in remembrance of Hoku.

A few days prior I dreamt that a group of people were sitting in a circle. Alex mentioned that his best friend was a ghost. Alex made jokes with the space beside him and it was like old times. The space beside him felt charged and different and that was what Hoku’s ghost was.

A woman with a bike in West Texas talked to us about how everyone should be sterilized to stop the swell of overpopulation.

Our main goal in Austin was to go swimming. We went to barton springs and to the original Whole Foods. We bought expensive chia. I made cashew cream to top spaghetti with zucchini-noodles and slow-cooked/spicy marinara with fried mushrooms.

My friends saw Godzilla while Cole played songs for me and I played songs for Cole.

It rained and we went to Barton Springs again. I fixed some electronics in the backyard, which had that summer-smell of sun-warmed cat shit.

We enjoyed alcohol-infused snow-cones at Mass gallery and made noise. Cole used his big lungs to fill the gallery.


It was raining so much before the Raw Paw zine fest that I didn’t set up Proxy. I felt bored without much responsibility and walked back and forth through puddles to acquire free beer. I sat in Ice Shelf for a while, reading Aminadab and drinking Dos Equis. When I had to pee I walked to another art opening.


I talked to a tall white dude in the beer-line for a while, and talked to the tall dude’s tall friend. We’re all friends now.

Cole was looking at art, looking put out, and I asked how he felt. He was sort of sad about people making fun of this art because “it was gay,” and sort of sad that the art was good, but not quite as good as it could have been, he felt like it was a “good draft.” I told him the art in question was my favorite at the show. He said that the artist had invited his right-wing family to see it, and was nervous because of the gay-content.

The two of us sat at an outdoor table, beneath fairy lights. An enthusiastic computer-engineer student talked about Oculus Rift and near-future/sci-fi immortality. A self-proclaimed “ignorant gay boy” asked me about my gender identity. I told him I am non-binary but live in 0s and 1s.

The gay boy expounded upon gender spectrum and gender fluidity “Like you can be a boy or a girl, or in between a boy and a girl.” I got excited: “Because “boy” and “girl” are fundamental constructed opposites and with your wider model there are 3 genders, with the third being purple – or a blend of the pink and blue of currently constructed gender binary. I continued on my diatribe to position the idea of gender spectrum as an extension of gender binary, and offer a more 3d model where any point in space could be gender identity, because gender is continually constructed, can be anything, and doesn’t even have to be “gender.” WE DECIDE! WE DECIDE! GENDER IS WHATEVER! THE COUCH IS NOW LAVA! THE FLOOR IS NO LONGER LAVA! EVERYTHING IS ACTUALLY LAVA AND NOTHING IS SAFE!

The computer engineer boy got it more than the gay boy. Later the gay boy said “We taught that clueless engineer-boy so much.” I drank another beer.

As of this point, there are obvious themes in this post. A sensory constant that I have not mentioned is that in every paragraph I was acquiring new mosquito bites.