astronautics 2: notebook scans

(a poem, trans angst, drawings, and a recipe)

(cw: references to BDSM, injury, abuse, and dysphoria)

(poem, June 2020)



My answer to fear

is to pull its thread

and unravel it

onto myself.


In spite, the

scars (on) in my skin are


(journal entry/drawing of an evangelion poster, August 2019)


I’m much more at ease vis-a-vis my sexuality, also. I’m… kind of a bottom, honestly. Or at least a soft-and-gentle type who likes being abused? Maybe?

████ making my legs weak by being taller than me was a thing. I had dreams about her just… grabbing me. Around my wrist.


I wanna fall asleep to Evangelion on my parents’ couch like I’m 11 again.

I love Evas!

(journal entry [“circles”]/drawing of a star, September 2019)



I want to complete my transition.

I am, in my own dissociative way, scared of surgery:

anaesthesia [sic]

having my face fucked up

(not pain)

Yet I want SRS and FFS

I have a recurring nightmare that I go to check my pulse and the little pressure on my jugular collapses the bloodflow to my brain, and my consciousness falls from my eyes like sand.

and it never returnss. [sic]

I’m afraid to lose consciousness and die

I’m desperately afraid of it. To overdose and lose myself



(the new york times’ recipe for pasta alla puttanesca, vaguely recalled by me and written down to give to Autumn, November 2019)


Times puttanesca

kosher salt to taste

3 tbsp olive oil

3 cloves garlic lightly smashed

3 anchovy fillets.

28 oz. can plum tomatoes.

black pepper to taste

1/2 cup pitted olives — kalamata


2 tbsp capers.

Red pepper flakes to taste

Chopped parsley to garnish.

  1. Boil/Salt water Warm garlic w/ 2tbsp oil/anchovies until garlic is lightly golden.

  2. Drain/crush tomatoes w/ salt and pepper. Raise heat to medium high and cook till it breaks down.

  3. Cook pasta, drain quickly, toss w/sauce and remaining oil. Garnish w/parsley and pecorino.

(note: use six to eight [or more] anchovy fillets if you’re on spiro/blockers. With just three you can barely taste the salt.)

(drawing on a bookmark of a former friend’s eyeliner/smeared lipstick, December 2017)