Here’s another area in which I actively train my brain: telling stories. One of my habitual mental pastimes is to retell stories to myself, fashioning events into narrative. For instance:
The tale of Morgana
Around five years ago, Cora wound up with too many cats. This happens frequently; strays are attracted to her, and she takes them in and finds them homes. She gave a kitten named Morgana to a friend.
Four years later, the friend got in touch with Cora, saying he was planning to move Morgana on. Apparently, Morgana had been causing trouble: she didn’t get along with their other cat, and she especially didn’t get along with the family’s new puppy, which was the last straw. Since Morgana was originally a gift, the friend wanted to give Cora dibs before sending Morgana to a shelter.
Cora grumbled about it, but she reluctantly agreed to take Morgana back. Cora’s cat situation is complicated. She has roughly half a dozen cats inhabiting different “neighborhoods” of the home. One of the cats, Raz, lives in the attic study. He’s a friendly lad who likes being with other cats, but they don’t like him. Until recently, Raz had one friend, Greg; but Greg died of cancer, leaving Raz sad and lonely. Cora’s idea was to move Morgana in with Raz so he could have a new friend.
It didn’t work. Despite Cora’s best efforts, Morgana hated Raz. Raz would try to play or cuddle, and she’d hiss and scratch. Morgana also had beef with the family dog, Misty. Morgana also had beef with every other cat in the house. Really, Morgana is the common denominator in all her failed relationships. She’s sweet and affectionate toward humans ONLY.
Cora was distraught about this. She felt responsible towards Morgana and wanted to make it work out somehow. But she’d pretty much have to relocate every other cat in the house to give Morgana a “neighborhood” of her own, which would be discomfiting and unfair to the other cats. Eventually, she gave Morgana back to her friend, who sent her on to a shelter. There the story ends. Hopefully she found a nice home where she can be the only pet.
The tale of iyazo
(I think I’ve done this one before. Well, I’m doing it again.)
iyazo feels like a modern version of a Robert Chambers protagonist—a young transmasc artist constantly lurching from one drama incident to another.
I say “transmasc” as a catch-all term, but iyazo is an interesting study in the fluidity of one’s own gender. Initially, iyazo was a trans man (he/him) excited to start T. However, he didn’t like the changes in his body, and presumably stopped T, and became a demiboy (he/they) with an androgynous appearance.
In any case, when I first became acquainted with iyazo, he had just broken up with an abusive boyfriend and was looking for a new place to stay. It was difficult to find anything on his income—he was unemployed and living off disability benefits—but he eventually found a family willing to rent a room in their house. I can’t recall the landlady’s name; let’s call her Jeri.
It didn’t take long for tensions to emerge. First, there was the rent. After iyazo moved in, his disability benefits got reduced so he could no longer make rent. For a while, he considered going into sex work to make ends meet. (Doing sex work as a female-presenting trans guy sounds like the most dysphoria-inducing thing ever. But I’m not criticizing; you gotta do what you gotta do.) He found a potential sugar daddy, an older gentleman who gave off a lot of trafficking red flags. iyazo wisely cut that contact, and explained to Jeri that he couldn’t pay the full rent, but he would pay what he could. She was sympathetic and said it was fine. Crisis averted…for a while.
Second, there were a multitude of small tensions that arise from living in the same space as other people. For instance, someone from the house picked up the mail, and didn’t tell iyazo he had mail, and iyazo was incensed when he found out. On another occasion, iyazo left his backpack in front of the microwave, and Jeri got mad and accused him of being ableist (??). So the mood in the household gradually soured. iyazo spent a lot of time in his room and avoided going out when he might encounter the family.
Third, relationship drama!! iyazo started going out with Glitch, a friend of Jeri’s. So Glitch got caught in the middle of the rising tension between iyazo and Jeri. iyazo was jealous and annoyed when Glitch came to the house to hang out with Jeri rather than him. There were ups and downs; the two of them had a perfect Valentine’s Day together. A few days later, they had a rancorous breakup accompanied by screaming and throwing of objects. This occurred in iyazo’s room, i.e., in Jeri’s house, so she was privy to the whole thing. It was the last straw. Jeri told iyazo that he had 30 days (I think) to get out of her house.
So iyazo was back to needing a place to stay, but this time with less income and with Jeri badmouthing him to potential landlords. As his time ran out, he couldn’t find any place that would rent to him. He also didn’t have any family or friends willing to take him in. The best he had was an aunt who helped him get his meager belongings into storage before he was out on the streets.
Last I heard from him, he got a bunk at a Christian home for the homeless. He started downstairs, but was able to win their favor and secure a spot upstairs (a better/more permanent arrangement) by crying a lot. (Perk of being able to pass as female.) But he was putting himself on thin ice by smoking pot and stashing it in the room, an offense for which one could be kicked out. (The Christians in charge did not believe in privacy and personal possessions for the homeless; storage spaces were held in common and were subject to regular inspections for contraband.) And that’s where the tale ends, abruptly and with no closure, also like a Robert Chambers story.
The tale of Valentine
This is a short one, not dramatic like the others. It goes like this: Valentine was making pork chops for dinner. She preheated the oven, put in the chops, and then the oven apparently turned off. Half an hour later, when she got up expecting to have cooked chops, they were still raw. Also she broke a fork. (Moon: “Is this your first time in a kitchen?”) It was a rough night.
A few days later, I mentioned I had pork chops for dinner. Valentine said “pork chops…” I said, “Yeah, the air fryer didn’t turn off.” She was like “?? How did you know about that??” And I told her, “Everyone knows. It’s just part of chat lore at this point. Also you broke a fork.” And she was like “NOOOOO” so I am immortalizing this piece of lore in this entry forever.
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