Woke up sort of this morning sort of feeling sick. I think it's a combination of the arctic fucking frigid temperatures and my nuclear radiator. Sometimes if I don't crack open my bedroom window enough, it gets stifling, and I wake up (as I did this morning) with scratchy throat, dehydrated, woozy. Feeling sick? I hope not. I'm gonna do healthful things all day today. But anyways.
Feeling shitty and disoriented on the uptown C train. Listening to Sleater-Kinney's "Rollercoaster' to gather some strength, pump up some inertia. Getting lost in my little head. And then, over the squalls of noise, Carrie Brownstein shrieking "wanna go back to the way things a-wuh-hurrrr" I heard another source of squeals, louder than the guitar feedback. Perched in one of the tiny bench seats at the front of the train were a pair of kids. They could not have been more than 14. Why weren't they in school? It was a tough, thick-set girl with long unruly frizzy black hair, feebly pulled into a loose ponytail, wearing baggy jeans and basketball shoes. And a tiny, wiry little boy in tight jeans and a hoodie, purple keds, and a huge mass of red hair. Braces. They were tickling each other, telling jokes. It woke me out of my reverie. Not because, say, I like children or adolescents per se. But because I could hear, in the timbre of their hormonal voices, virginal sounds, that these kids were so fucking queer. It was really heartening, in a way, to know that young queer kids are finding each other and making it.
We (those of us who have more or less escaped the immediate horrors and dangers of a queer adolescence) talk a lot about changing the system, equal rights, it getting better. And sometimes the discussions are focused on the problems. On solving the problems. On how fucked-up our lives and the world is. And that's valid. But there's also something really simple and beautiful about seeing these two kids on the train this morning, making it. They were unspeakably awkward, weird growth spurt bodies and voices that were cracking with New Yorkese. But they were also really beautiful, too. I had this overpowering sense that someday this tough butch girl and sweet femme boy would grow into the most gorgeous queer adults, and I had this vision of them helping each other, everyone. It's so corny but between that and Sleater-Kinney and no coffee, it really lifted my spirits.