Chronicles of Jedi-Mouse Dark side of the holidays. "When was your last relationship?" "Going on fifteen years ago." "Are you lonely?" "Yes." "Do you think you could be close to anyone?" "I'd rather slay them where they stand." "I see."

Chronicals of Jedi-Mouse, Stardate 12012017 On a world scale, chaos ensues. The politics of individual countries is shit. The few who manipulate the world's economy and military maneuverings in that regard are wringing their hands in the final moments of a foreseeable victory. The lack of real food and clean water is about to initiate a culling of the human species. Those who have been in power for the last several centuries will remain in rule, choosing who among their acolytes will rise to enjoy their good graces while leaving the rest to be mauled and eaten by the servant class that they have worked so hard to create. Or . .. the majority of us who are not elitist crap rise up and take down the rich overlords and build a new society based on humanitarian values and not monetary ones. In the meantime . . . watching the fall of the USA is almost binge-worthy.

I went out this morning. It's a beautiful day and I felt like I didn't belong in it. When you spend 99% of your leisure time alone, how does life not become all about you? I say this in the "me" sense and I don't care for this reality at all. Maybe that's why I spend so much time watching movies and tv series where I can become involved in virtual lives. Even after escaping decades of denial and living as "me" I'd rather continue escaping into "not me". I'm never truly alone however, there's always the cat, Bushi and Jedi-Mouse, the personification of my depression. The cat and I connect in a behavioral pattern that only permits two modes of interaction - when she's hungry I feed her and in bed I must extend an arm so she may rub her head in my hand then plop her 19 pounds on top of my arm until it loses all feeling. Love can be strange but it's still love and it leaves the major part of my alone time to deal with my depression. I say "my depression" because it is indeed a particular type that requires much care and feeding or it begins to leak out into my 1% of social leisure time and invariably ruin the experience. Most weeks it demands a full day or a little more of my complete attention which is doable and I consider it a sort of "truce or cease-fire, call it detente" and it allows me to pose as a functional human and even run a business. I've been writing the Jedi-Mouse blog for years yet it only recently occurred to me that the Mouse was indeed my depression and a separate entity. On occasion I'll read the old blogs and as dark as they are they still seems like old friends. So often people who learn even a little about me say, "OMG! You should write a book!" They should read this blog from the beginning then they might reconsider. I do have an idea though, since the Mouse loves to stay up late, get really drunk, sit half naked at the keyboard and thrash out at the virtual consciousness of social media as if it were a cosmic therapist, I think I should begin the "Chronicles of Jedi-Mouse", sometimes taking excepts from old blog posts and sometimes just letting the drunken rodent have at it. How this would be different from the original blog I'm not sure but it my be more frequent.

The Season of the Mouse It should be no surprise to anyone who by random misfortune stumbles across this blog that there are significant time lapses to my postings. The major reason for that is that although my depression is ever present it is also cyclical in its intensity. Autumn is the season of the Mouse but I prefer to call it The Fall. It is the time in which I visit my darkest feelings, the time of my darkest memories, the time and place where I face my fears. I can go on for months dealing with the ups and downs by the use of drugs and sleep in the learned management of my condition but a certain time of year comes along and I am victim to all of the unsaid things. The Holidays. The Holidays are my kryptonite. I detest them. From All Hallows Eve, through Thanksgiving and on to X-mas it is a surrealistic misrepresentation of usurped rituals for the sake of commercialism. For me it is a far greater disturbance. It is the time of my expulsion, my being exiled for the simple reason of choosing to be me. The time in which I said no to my denial. The time in which I decided it was no longer a world in which I wanted to live. So, enough of this drivel. But, there's more . . . Yes, over 40% of us have attempted suicide at some time during our transition. Who cares? Certainly not you cisgendered peeps. What are we to you? Nothing. We are freaks. We are partners who betrayed, sons and daughters who crushed your hopes, parents who did the unthinkable. I get so tired in this season. I look at couples who have overcome the "change" and I am envious. The idea that love can overcome obstacles does not fit into my experience. I am left with hate and emptiness. That is what occupies the hole that once held love. During this season in which I go deep into the darkness I challenge the hate and plead with the emptiness but so far I've always lost. I'm used to losing. Losing and surviving, sounds like a Greek tragedy. If it is true "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", I should be invincible by now. I don't feel invincible. I will be visible for the rest of this season, more or less, but I won't be with you. I have found a place to hide.

Oh me, oh my, the time does fly. What's time to a pig? Ask Spider John Koener. I'm definitely feeling a change coming on but I don't know whether it's favorable or not. Do we ever? My astrological gurus think they have a clue but really they don't even though I love to listen to their lovely rantings. Each day is what I, or you make it. Today I didn't march in the streets to protest this fucking shit storm of a government we have at the moment and I bet you didn't either. Why the fuck not? Because I am a lame ass complacent moron just like the rest of you. How did we sink to this muck level of existence? Advertising. Television. Social media. Distraction. You are not powerful because you choose not to be. Harsh, yes? Will you take up the cause and fight back at the corporate takeover of America? No, you won't because you don't have a clue how to do such a thing. We do not communicate with each other, we push buttons on electronic devises. We need to commune. We need to sit together and take the good drugs once again. We need to find the ethic we almost claimed in the 60's and expand it. Capitalism killed the 60's movement and we must be Dr. Frankenstein and resurrect that monster that can bring it down. Unlearn the teaching that wealth equals power. Knowledge is the true power and we must wake everyone up! Democratic Socialism is the way to level the playing field. As the poor and the middle class rise up, the 1% lose their power over us. This is the way of eliminating the greedy and becoming an earth-first global society. Sounds like science fiction but it is not. We are now in the worst-case-scenario projected by science fiction writers in the 1940's. Their bad dreams have come true and we let it happen as they predicted. I could go on and on, rant and rant but will it change? I think not. Personally, I will fight for my own survival but I think the whole of humanity is coming to a fast close. I hope I'm wrong and I find a band of capable Zealots bent on saving humanity for humanity's sake and not for profit and we will fight like super heroes against the elitist oppressors. One can dream.

Hello again. As always, it's been awhile. The war against us LGBT folks has escalated, trans murders are at a high and we now have the most repressive government in American history. Should I even post? I'm still drinking which isn't a revelation to anyone who knows me, so whatever I have to say should be taken as compromised by reality. Are we really going to do this? The new civil war? Conservative against liberal, born again pseudo christian against free thinker? I know you fraidycats with all your guns think you have the advantage but do you ever think of all the ex-military liberals who no longer believe in war who would in a second rise up and snap your like twigs? There is liberalism and there is survival. The conservatives by their own accord have determined their demise. Greed is not sustainable. This nation will live on only if it accepts the diverse nature of humanity, allows for individual belief systems and upholds the separation of church and state. What has been forgotten is that we are here on Earth for each other as humans. I think this is the test. If we fail, we can all say goodbye.

What a world, what a world . . .

How does one write the ending of a life. For that matter, when does one know it's the last chapter? Circumstances can appear to be the ending chapter but in actuality be only the continuance of the story. I am at that crossroad, not knowing whether this is the end or the beginning of a new story line. Nonetheless I'm tired. I could go either way with no regret. Let me tell you about my current life, should you be at all interested . .. I am in a living purgatory, transgender without the financial means to complete my physical transition. This leaves me in a state of self-loathing in regards to my body in its present form. I'm not the only one in this state so I don't ask for any special privilege. In the more advanced nations of this earth the medical treatments of my condition are addressed by their health care systems. In the United State this is not the case. Why is this? When did greed overturn humanity? I need to get out of here. Help.

Snow days vs. No days

February 9th, another Snow Day in most of New England. Here in Easthampton Ma about 14 inches of the white stuff settled down, closing schools, businesses, my own included and giving many people a needed day off from the absurdity of life in America, 2017. I'll take it. In my life I also have "No Days". These are the days in which my clinical depression takes hold and also gives me a day off though I usually spend it in bed seeing that I'm quite incapacitated when these No days happen. This is a reasonable trade off, in my opinion, for being able to hold it together in a productive state of adulting for most of the time when not so long ago this wasn't the case.

"Imagine, if you will, coming to realize that a life in denial for fifty years was as good as it was going to get and the rest of your life as your true self is just a walk through hell." Not that I don't have friends here, on the contrary, I have more friends now than ever and they may or not be on their own path through hell, hell being a very subjective and personal concept. This is a hard post to write without sounding pathetic but as you know, most of my post are about the darker side of being transgender. So what do I do with my Snow Day? My day off without the bed time? The same as every day Pinky, I settle into the darkness and wonder why I'm still here. It's no surprise that I can endure my own hell creation, I've survived everything else for sure. Clearly I'm sitting here waiting for something to happen one way or another. I focus on two things; the positive, the physical completion of my transition journey which in this hell is unattainable or the other positive, death by other than my own means. I've put death by suicide on hold for now, not wanting to add to the trauma I've already caused my children but it's always a consideration. Pathetic, yes? Anyway a Snow Day in hell is better than a No Day in hell.

Happy Birthday to Me - Not Dead Yet

Three score and seven years ago a hole opened up in the space-time continuum. Through a blinding light alien mechanical arms thrust in to grab me and against my will, pulled me into that alter dimension. Thus began my saga . . . The first three years or so I have little memory of and can only relate through hearsay. They must have drugged me. Story has it that the human pair I was allotted to was in crisis. The male member of the pair, who I later learned to call "Dad", was in intensive care after undergoing a brain tumor operation that was quite risky for its time. The odds were against his survival but he did survive in spite of that. His total recovery took up most of those first three years and I was probably left to my own devises much of that time. The female, "Mom", had to devote her efforts to that recovery and I believe it resulted in a lack of bonding between us which never did remedy itself. I was alone in this dimension and alone I would stay. I should add here that in this dimension, and in particular this culture, there was no such thing as variable gender constructs of self-identity. This cultural aberration wasted no time in making my life a living hell as the haze of unknowing lifted and I began to see things clearly. My childhood in a nutshell . .. "I can't be this boy . . . where's Me?"