SOME DAYS TRANSITIONING CAN BE SUCH A CRASH COURSE IN PUBLIC SCRUTINY. ITS AS IF THE GENERAL PUBLIC FORGOT THE BASIC IDEA THAT ITS RUDE TO STARE. ITS GETTING ON A TRAIN FILLED WITH EYES DETERMINED TO DECIPHER MY BODY AND ITS COVERINGS WITH CODES AND SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THAT CAN’T EVEN RECOGNIZE MY FACE. ITS CIS MEN, OLD AND YOUNG, FLUCTUATING BETWEEN DISGUST, SEXUAL INTEREST AND/OR A REFUSAL TO ENGAGE EITHER OF THE TWO. ITS CIS WOMEN, YOUNG AND OLD, SPITTING ON MY FACE WITH THEIR EYES, SHAMING ME WITH GLARES. ITS A WORLD OF PEOPLE HURRYING TO GET TO THEIR 9 TO 5 AND TRUCK IT BACK HOME BEFORE THEY HAVE TO DEAL WITH THE SPACE I’M PRESUMED TO NATURALLY INHABIT - THE UNREGULATED LAISSEZ-FAIRE MARKET OF DESIRE SYMBOLIZED BY THE NIGHT. I AM AN UNWELCOME REMINDER THAT THEIR WORLD IS AN ILLUSION. A VIRUS INCARNATE