iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

I should’ve had the surgeon hand mine back so I could hurl them through somebody’s doorway. I could have gotten some sweet raiment out of it. Ha! Who am I kidding. They would’ve given me jeans and a t-shirt, or sweatpants, like the whole unfashionable world wears. No wonder the gods are silent.

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You who would serve the Mighty Mother, Come; Consecrate with crimson rain Her hungry earth.

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Another day ending in Y, another Lady Ottoline Morrell appreciation post. I’ll run out of these soon, the pity of it.

Lady Ottoline Morrell, looking very stately in a black and white photo. Once again she is wearing a pearl necklace (two of them actually). She has her head tilted back and is looking imperiously down at the camera.

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I’ve enjoyed the chips and bedtime cereal and junk food for far too long. It’s time to enter the lean days now. Bonus: it prepares me for losing my job, being out on the street, and, eventually, the camps.

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I’m not supposed to offer commentary, but I feel we transies torpedoed ourselves when we surrendered our innate gift of channeling the divine. No one wants to mess with you when your outraged patroness could let the city starve to death.

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Millions of people have gone through it, and we will too. There’s nothing special about it, or us.

An artistic depiction of the fall of the city of Carthage in North Africa. Buildings are on fire and soldiers are killing people.

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I think Anicula is going to have to come to terms with the fact that Iuvenis is an idiot and is going to wreck everything and there’s nothing Anicula can do about it.

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The Kalends of October are on their way! What are you doing for Iuno, Queen of the Roman Sky? Nothing, I know. You bums.

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At some point, we, as a society, are going to have to accept the cold hard truth that Publius Vergilius Maro is full of sh*t.

010

Born too late to make out with Lady Ottoline Morrell, alas. Is there no end to the cruelties of destiny.

Photograph of Lady Ottoline Morrell (1873-1938). She had dark hair cropped in a thick bob. She is wearing a pearl necklace and a white peasant blouse, and is looking down and to her right. She is seated outside in a forest of thin trees. From the National Portrait Gallery (UK).

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You can hate the sin and hate me too. What are you to me.

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I have been thinking a lot today about the fall of Carthage. It was pretty horrific. But it’s been over and done for a long, long time. Nobody cries for the victims now, except me. Much sooner than we think, we will all be done with this, unwritten characters in a history nobody reads.

001

Went to a big progressive thing Sunday. The deal where you sign up online ahead of time, then at the gate they check your name against what they have on their roster. The staffer on the line I was in was asking each of us for our last name, then would read back to us our first name on the sheet.

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Rules for online engagement with Hazel: fawn on me.

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Anyone who calls me ‘dude’ or ‘bro’ insults me. And trans women should know better.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

I use ‘hon’ for everyone. Always have. But I offended my partner (another trans woman) the first time I called her this. Had to train myself not to do it with her.

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I admit to being absolutely fascinated by the disappearance of Dr. George Parkman. I’m rather nervous around folks who get turned on by true crime - I mean being excited by it and discussing it like entertainment. But I wonder, what is it that makes a particular case latch onto someone?

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Horrifying. I’ve got a few pix on Facebook, which I only joined because groups I’m in insisted on using it to communicate. God knows what transmogrifications AI will make from photos of my horrifying transsexual horse face. I’ll probably show up in a “Republicans versus Trans” political ad.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Ah, rural Ohio! The crisp clean smell of cow poop and neighbors burning plastic. I love country life 😍

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In a world that will soon be entirely online and under the domination of AI, the unensouled are going to have a massive advantage.

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I just got fired. Here’s how it went down: Client: “I don’t understand what you’re asking for.” Me: “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!” Client: 😳 Me: “I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE!” Client complains to boss, can you believe it. Boss: “Hazel, why did you-“ Me: “EAT SHIT BIGOT!”

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Screw this. I was assigned American at birth, but I’m neurobiologically English. I’m transnational. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 Just to P people like this O.

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If he thinks that’s terrifying, he should read some of my poems!

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Any other trans women poets getting the sense that the journals who claim to welcome trans voices really just mean trans men and enbies?

The nice thing about being trans is that we’ll be among the first to go. Cis folks are the ones who are gonna be stuck swimming through the whole vast river of fudge. Dommage.

This is true, I think, but it’s still not gonna stop me from wasting my last few years of life on this planet desperately trying to earn love from strangers.

010

In my case, almost certainly true. No need to go into it, but I was not kind to my meat vehicle.

Name a Pixar character, wrong answers only.

Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab in John Huston’s incredibly shitty film version of “Moby Dick”.

The warnings on my estrogen patches make it sound like I’m putting radioactive waste on my skin.

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When life gives you an opportunity for justifiable homicide, TAKE IT

Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 22/09/2026

Tonight’s the meeting night for our local once-a-month trans support group. Partner wanted to go. I vetoed. If I want to be laughed at, I can have cis folks do it in the course of my daily life. I have no need to make a special trip to sit in a musty old church for two hours.

Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 20/09/2026

I was visiting a lighthouse once in NC (not by choice) and the tour guide was an undergroomed 20-something with a hammer and sickle pin. A middle-aged Eastern European woman (accent was obvious) asked him what the pin was. He said, very smugly, “I’m a Trotskyist, ma’am.” She said nothing.

011

You know what sucks? Plucking your eyebrows. I have a great eyebrow gal, but I can’t afford to go to her as often as I need. She’s a luxury treat. “But, Hazel! You don’t HAVE to pluck your eyebrows!” Yeah. I do. Otherwise I end up looking like this jerk. But with better hair.

Nazi Germany’s Minister of Armaments Albert Speer in old age, with scanty gray hair at the sides of his head. This is a close up photo of his face, showing his huge black eyebrows that look like woolly bear caterpillars.

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Uh oh. Looks like it’s shaping up to be one of those days when the hole inside is hungry. Dysphoria is generally controlled for me now, but sometimes it does flare up. I really need to start tracking it and see if it’s cyclical, like the weeping fits are. I know from experience it will pass, and

I have to say. My natural inclination is toward compromise and ‘half a loaf’ philosophy. I’ve been ‘blue no matter who’ because the alternative is always worse. But the ocean of scolding and wilful obtuseness from some cis folks on this site has got to me. They’ve convinced me to let it burn.

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As a writer, I’ve tried Word, WordPerfect, LibreOffice Writer, Notepad, Notepad++, and Scrivener. They’ve all fallen short in some way. The Notepads at least don’t claim to be more than they are, but the others have all caused me to metaphorically tear my hair out, usually repeatedly.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 18/09/2026

You know what I haven’t heard in a long, long time? A man doing a W. C. Fields impression.

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Analyzing smells of 70s investigators. Subject #2: Barnaby Jones (Buddy Ebsen). This silver fox smells of old man mustiness, beef stew, and mid-tier cologne. A soupçon of afternoon naps and fresh-water fish. Occasional notes of horse or horse poop (he has a ranch). Notorious milk breath! 🤢

Barnaby Jones (Buddy Ebsen). A head shot. Buddy is wearing a black suit jacket, white shirt, and blue tie with golden emblems in it,m. He appears against a pale yellow background.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 18/09/2026

Analysing smells of 70s investigators. First up: Joe Mannix (Mike Connors) smells pretty good! Pricy aftershave, good cologne, non-smoker. Clean, fresh. Scent of cutting edge 60s technology and two-fisted adventure! Occasional hint of leather or tweed, or a New England high school football game.

Joe Mannix (Mike Connors) and his assistant Peggy Fair (Gail Fisher). They’re by the ocean, a cliff behind them. Joe is wearing a light blue jacket and black shirt; Peggy’s in a brown shirt, brown vest with white diamonds, and an orange scarf around her neck.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

“He” would gawk to the point of rudeness, a combination of fascination and wondering how anyone could possibly disregard public opinion to such an extent. He’d admire me, empathize with me, and pity me all at once. Stuff your pity, kid. My life’s better than yours in every way. Poor li’l weirdo.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

I’m culturally Plastic Paddy.

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Hazel Clive @hauntedhazel.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

I was about to do some heavy catastrophizing, but you know what, BlueSky has enough of that. So. I went to have blood drawn (estrogen check!) and I didn’t have to wait! WOW! Then I got my grocery shopping out of the way early. ZOWIE! Then I came home and enjoyed the new Pumpkin Spice (cont.)