So I’ve just been outed again.
One of the consequences of what I do, is that I have these odd sorts of fame.
There are the city magazine type articles.
There is being a small cultural community centre of reasonably high culture, and getting appropriate publicity. Both of these are less personal, more service reviews.
Odd interviews.
But then there’s also anonymous fame.
My place is scattered through a couple of dozen tv and film scenes.
I’m somewhere in at least half a dozen novels in some sort of character.
And word gets passed around about my place / me.
And I suppose I find this type of fame the more interesting frame to contemplate the complexities of identity.
So, again, I have a very mixed feeling about this particular way of being identified, ( the first time it went from anger at having my name and trans status out there, to rueful acknowledgement that at least not everyone gets outed in such an authoritative news source as that one ).
This time it’s by way of a story.
It’s in a similarly authoritative news media, but only mentions my place by name.
And it’s not entirely accurate.
The place has rarely been that sloppy, I never wear high heels, and if I was in evening dress then it must have been shortly before a Friday evening thing.
But it’s actually a good story, and by an sf author.
And it touches something of the spirit of the place.
And maybe, maybe, from the right angle, I can look a little like Patricia Highsmith.
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