Travels with Amber: Spences Bridge

Morning. The sun has risen. It’s already warm on my face.  It’s above the mountain beyond the rushing Thompson.  The trains made some noise in the night but only once did I wake. I had sweet dreams and felt comfortable here in this camper, with my little dog sleeping through the night on the seats in the dining area. He’d be in bed with me as at home but I fear the jump down from the camper bed would not be good for his back.

I’ve cleaned my face enjoying the smell of dove soap. I’ve brushed my teeth with Colgate.  I thought of showering but really want a swim.  I like having a surplus of water too.  Later today.  

I wore the black nightie to bed with the sparkling word “sexy’ across the chest. I’ve had that for decades now. I’d wear it camping when I hunted alone in the mountains near Pemberton tenting.  The animus hunted. The anima lead back at camp.  Psychological mindedness, tolerating the tension of opposites.  I sometimes think that my masculinity has been ‘reaction formation’ and my femininity ‘identification with the aggressor’.  Yet I embrace both. I so enjoyed the strong young man and his pleasure but now older with less outlet for heavy lifting I’m rather enjoying more the feminine.   

I am a cross dresser.  My transexual psychiatrist friend joked when I lunched with her last month, “What’s the difference between a cross dresser and a transexual?  5 years. “ she said.  I’ve been cross dressing since I was an actor in my teens.  I played a school lead as a woman. It wasn’t an issue back then and I enjoyed those times.  I felt freeer, more creative and alive as only the young can be. Decades of being a doctor and a psychiatrist and an addiction medicine specialist I’ve grown weary of the social homogeneity, doctors dressing like lawyers and bankers.  I like my colleagues who wear shorts and hiking wear.  They are far beyond the white lab coat even.  Symbols of normalcy don’t seem as important.  

I’m technically bisexual by history. On my sad days I fear that when I was anally penetrated an bred the seeds of homosexuality were planted.  I was changed by trauma.  How melodramatic.  My cherry was bust and yet I’ve wallow in the self pity so many girls adopt to be one down and adopted. Of course it could be gentle.  A little lube would have gone a long way. But there are men in the gay community with a mean streak.  Feral.  In the war they were leaders in the SS.  Toxic masculinity describes them. I supposed the like raping boys and girls and the rape fantasies continue in society.  Shares of Grey and Sado masochism.  The most popular female fantasy is being ‘taken’ by a rich and powerful man.  

“Would you have sex with me for a million dollars?” He said.  

“I’d think about it”.  She replied.

“Would you have sex with me for a dollar?”

“What do you take me for?” She said.

“That’s already been decided. I”m just dickering for price”

I got the experience of being anally penetrated.  I said no so it’s technically raped. I was given my first blow job drunk and stoned.  I had sex with a man imagining a woman , so deluded by drugs and alcohol I couldn’t be accountable.  The social programming was broken.  I recoiled and returned to the tame world. I’d taken a walk on the wild side and didn’t return a billionaire but had a sore bum and a hell of a lot of shame.

Velvet Rage is the book I recommended to gay men.  We joked about men being ‘pussie’s’ and it wasn’t attractive.  Being gay was to be ostracized not like the tomboy or was she too a bit reviled.  It was definitely easier for her to return to her feminine role.  When a woman has a child all is forgiven.  So much of society is based on the need for children to man the armies of the world.  The demand only changed with industrialization. The birth control pill was created in 1952, the year of my birth.

The elite always have time and money for any indulgence.  The lower classes we’re too tired to be creative. The middle classes were upwardly mobile but cautious to retain there hard won status.  Homogeneity was the goal.  To fit in. Discretion was the rule.  Dr. Carl Jung differentiated the ‘self’ from the ‘persona’ or social self.  

I’ve done quite well till now.  I’ve served society and now with limited time left want to be free from  constraints.  There is little time for soon they’re just say ‘he’s demented. He’s psychotic’.  Difference is either mad or bad.  Wearing women’s clothes is my Klinger expression.  I don’t want to war no more.

Life is a journey, a grand one at this, This bit is a blip in the whole, a delightful embracing of the whole self.  Dr. Jung called these ‘bits’ the ‘Shadow’. Obviously there are darker aspects of life which were contained by ‘evolution’ but there’s also those other bits which are not so bad or wrong or demonic.  Society is evolving and we thankfully don’t need more children for war so heterosexuality and the trappings of the military are no longer the only game in town.  I like the expressions of the artist.  Besides I’m a sniper and called up as an old man I’d serve my community though really I’m a healer first and foremost. Killing is relatively easy by comparison.  The sheep dog is more advanced thatn the wolf in that regard .  I do imagine myself more a sheep dog, maybe even a bitch. 

FEmulate

I refer to myself today as bisexual.  It’s a life time assessment. I’m also transgender. I have cross dressed a lot in my life.  It began as a teen ager when I played female role in theatre and later in dance I’d dance female roles. I had no attraction for men and refused countless offers of Sex from older gay men until drunk and stoned I was raped. Busting my cherry was an extremely painful experience with internal tearing and what in retrospect I can only think was a sadist.  I had had the most exquiste wonderful sex with girls prior to that and all I thought of was girls. Nothing about men or penis’ made me horny. Breast did. Vaginas did.  Pretty faces and smooth skin. 

After being raped in that summer of drugs and poverty and my friendship with the older ‘queen’, I returned home to my parents and stopped drugs and returned to church and shut off that whole experience of betrayal and abuse.  I didn’t smoke dope again for a couple of years.  I didn’t even link the events to marijuania and alcohol.  I just focussed on success once again.  

I wanted to be a play wright.  I had trained in the theatre and was acting main stage and dancing on television.  I had the sexiest girlfriends, glamorous, athletic, voluptuous, carefree fun women who were all my desire. I was lustful and manly. I fucked women standing against walls. I’d lift them by their thighs and penetrate them tearing panties and knowing all manner of laughter and joy.  Sex was incredible. It was the reward of life.  I had orgasms and the girls had orgasms. I learned to lick my face off and enjoyed the taste and scent of women. I’ve watched bucks following doe in the woods licking them before they mount them in rut. I was like that.  

After my first divorce I became more religious and celibate and finally met another beautiful girl who was so sexual in our courtship but then we bought the house, I’d been working three jobs and she was so into her sick family and what the neighbours think and began to treat sex as ‘dirty’ and ‘beneath her’.  

Again drugs and alcohol entered .  There were no kids too. She didn’t want kids and I’d thought that was what marriage was about. She also never seemed to leave her mother who was ever in our lives and a thoroughly crazy lady with high drama and a need to be the centre of attention.  I would do everything to please and pleasure her but she increasingly disparaged all things masculine and prided herself on being a feminist mocking my achievement and always critical.  Her family were alcoholics and we drank wine and the marijuana had returned on vacation but a source appeared closer. Our friends smoked dope and drank wine and drugs and alcohol have strange effects.  She painted the house pink and wanted me to move to the basement though we shared a bed.  It was all in the last year.  I pointed out that I spent years between her legs and she had never done oral sex with me once. She said with all the authority of the Queen, “women don’t like oral sex.  Ladies don’t do it”.  

The trouble with that ‘we are not amused’ and her mother and sister and friends was that they were at variance with the zoological data, the sexual history, and I was teaching sexuality and discussing these matters with beautiful brilliant upper class colleagues and a range of patients having difficulty with an orgasm and marriage. I was the scientist and she treated men and me and sex as repugnant, all of a sudden, in the 8th year of our relationship as if she was having an affair or whatever.  I begged her to spend alone time with us but she insisted on arranging for her family or friends to be present. I begged her to come t o  that final conference with me but she’d rather spend the time with her mother.

Deep throat was playing at the movie theatre. She thought it was dirty.

I was in the hot tub with gorgeous young New York psychologist after a day of courses in Arizona.  

“I love deep throat,” she said.

“My wife tells me women don’t like oral sex’

“You know that’s not true. I love to please a man. I love the feel of his orgasm. I love the smell . I love the taste of his cum.  Don’t you love women that way too”

“Yes, I do, The secant of a woman and the taste of her is as exquisite as intercourse. I like the foreplay and the act alone.  My first wife was utterly womanly and our sex life was mutual in every way. My wife demands cunninglingus but doesn’t reciprocate and increasingly she’s become a dead fish in bed.”

“I don’t understand that. My boyfriend and I love sex like we like a good meal.  It’s so healthy and pleasurable. “

She had leaned closer and our bodies were touching and then our lips and in the hotel hot tub. I experienced ‘deep throat ‘ for the first time and thoroughly enjoyed it. I’d had oral sex as a precursor to intercourse in previous relationships. I’d 69’d but this was different.  Explosive.  And there were all the taboos being broken and the red wine.  Red wine made me horny and rafter a couple of glasses all womens’ breasts seemed to grow and they all glowed. I hard on wine.

We missed the last two days of the conference spending them together in bed. I will never forget that deep throat though it became ‘normal’ in the following years,. I also won’t forget her sense of fun and pleasure.  She thanked me and we couldn’t stay in touch as friends simply because I returned and told my wife I’d not used a condom, that I needed to be checked for STD’s.  She was used to me wanting sex when I returned from being alone and thought this unusual. I was honest. I felt guilty for not using a condom more than the adultery though I did feel bad for breaking my vows though by that time I’d made so many sacrifices and accommodations to her and her family that I really was seriously wondering if separation wasn’t indicated as there was no children and she was depressed and her mother was depressed and her father and brother were always drunk.  I had experienced ‘deep throat’ and she was absolutely wrong about ‘women’ and I was really tired of her superiority and arrogance and was arrogant myself but admitted fault and prepared to accept she was the ‘victim’ and I was the ‘victimizer’ and just a higher level of her favourite game. It was the height of Marxist feminism and we’d had seven years of CBC condemning men collectively and now I was confirmed the ‘bad man’. She had never celebrated any of my successes but boy was she all for rolling in my defeat and putting the boots in.

I spoke to my prof who wad at the time going through a divorce. We were attending a workshop with Virginia Satire the famous marriage therapist, Later he’d invite me to his home alone with his family and we’d get drunk and smoke dope and I’d be fucked. I felt like a fly in a spider web.  The whole experience was pleasurable. I d shared my whole sexual history and marriage problems with him as he said he needed to know all this as my supervisor.  Now I was penetrated anally with lube on drugs, literally semi comatose and frankly immobile, like I’d had a nerve toxin.  I couldn’t move and didn’t complain except to weakly say. No , I don’t think this is right or some such verbal utterance while my body opened to him and accepted being bred.  

She ‘d left to be with her mother and he would come in an take me and meet with me and advise me.  I was a zombie at the time studying for my final exams.  I tried to break it off but I was smoking dope his cousin had as often as I could and drinking.  

She was innocent and wronged and angry.  I never knew when he appeared. It was definitely consensual though I felt like an employee boss’s relationships. I really liked the sex and the friendship. I begged him to stop the sex and that we could just be friends but he’d simply love fucking me. Frankly I liked being fucked. I was alone at the time, no friends and this homosexuality and the separation distanced me from all my normal connections. There was no one I could talk to except my stoned friend who had I’d let move into the basement as he had no where to go.  I was supporting him and serving as a fuck toy and had lost all my confidence and esteem. He liked me wearing his ex wife’s lingerie and frankly I felt better in the ‘constume’ and ‘role’.  I felt thoroughly divided I just wanted to finish my degree and leave. 

I did just that.  I went to a relationship with a friend and had access to wine and marijuana as I did my American medical exams and was offered a position at Stanford and another at Berkeley.  I lost everything in the divorce , never one to focus on money watching her suddenly take everything she could. There was even a painting from an esteemed friend given to me as a gift of friendship . Of course for me it had great sentimental value and reflected a decades of friendship but to her it was money and prestige so it was ‘hers’. Anything of financial value she took.  I didn’t care at the time. I was paying and people pleasing in this new relationship with a more sophisticated lady and lover and enjoying California. When I needed money I took a job in the north. 

I had crossed dressed a couple of times walking in the woods and masturbating imagining my self a girl masturbating.  I liked wearing a skirt. That was all. But I remembered the prof and wondered about myself when I was under a great deal of stress. The issue of having to make a decision about finances had triggered those episodes and the day of my exams in LA .  But 99% of the time I was happy in my masculine role with an amazingly beautiful woman who also had a strange relationship with her dominating mother.  She was another ‘princess’ too. But not a feminist and clearly loving being a woman.  I didn’t grow up with sisters and never learned how to argue with them or how vengeful they could be and took becoming a psychiatrist to understand passive aggression, psychopathy and proxy violence the norms of female dispute. 

I was alone again in the north. 

We argued because she didn’t like that I left and we argued and I didnt stay to play out the drama.  At the end of my northern stint with money in my pocket I came back to get my stuff and drive north again.  I had been offered a job in Virginia and was headed there but wanted to see the holograph exhibits in Vancouver. I saw the holograph as the closest representation of god on either and was fascinated with them.  I was still studying theology and spirituality and consider the ‘herb’ as ‘sacred’.  I had done LSD to know God. I was meditating and seeking experiences loving when I was in ‘the flow’.  I had that sense of synchronicity often.

Looking back and knowing that 6 weeks to 3 months is the withdrawal period for marijuana I wonder how often I was in PAWS, as smoking marijuania I was stable and in a steady state but when I went north to work I stopped marijuana and now again I stopped it and was restless irritable and discontent. It was n’t long before I had a new source and would have my routine of binge drinking and binge smoking with a few days of dope and weeks or months of only occasional drinks. The work hard play hard scenario. I had volunteered to help with the HIV service and was living in terror.  

Meanwhile I had dating the most sexually advanced women in the world.  Their skills and enthusiasm and joyful news were an eye opener. I spent months with a nurse who later told me she’d worked as an escort which didn’t surprise me given the amazing nights of sex with red wine. She had coke too and we tried that but not my thing. I learned later she had an addiction and was taking money from me to cover her costs. It explained her erratic behaviour. I didn’t like uppers except coffee and cigarettes while I did like wine and cannabis.  It was great being a man and sex was fantastic those years but I wanted marriage and family and a relationship with someone I could share spiritually

I worked. In the country I dated and had more incredible girlfriends with extraordinary sex. We were all young and athletic.  Being athletic, jogging, swimming, hiking, cycling, skiing were all the basis of great sex.  

I didn’t have Erectile Dysfunction till my 40’s.

My last marriage was great sexually. She was brilliant and beautiful and just the best of fun in the beginning. We both liked that each of us were drunks and stoners.  Our differences exploded over time and her mother was as insane , but now certifiable as my second wife’s mother, but as well the family was alcoholic and addicted but wealthy.  I actually thought that we’d move to the country among my friends who all had children and that my second wife’s problem was that her friends didn’t have children but were feminists and business women who priorized wealth. I thought with this wife I’d be in the midst of families and children and have a family. I even played the guitar  and sang “Our House.’  But trouble began when she failed her exams and continued to do more drugs and then began to spend her tine with her mother and I was months alone in the country as she studied to repeat her exams and I worked to support us .  I ‘d do this and people would think while he’s married a doctor so he should be happy but the doctors I married chose the poorest paid jobs and didn’t work much at all or were students while I worked three jobs and brought home  2/3 rd of the income and was fiscally responsible.  She’d had a daddy who bailed her out and a cocaine problem which again didn’t become apparent till later.  The fact is girls on cocaine are sex addicts. When I tried it I got ED so it was a stupid drug for me.  But the girls only had to lie back and be pleasured and on cocaine they were animals in the best of possible ways.

But alone girls in the neighbourhood would come to have sex and I said no. Beautiful young girls who I regret not having sex with. But I’d committed adultery and was not going down that path again.

It was in the country smoking dope and drinking wine alone in this big empty house with a dog and cat with her in the city with her mom that I began wearing skirts again and silky and satiny clothes. I loved the feel of women’s fabrics . As a young man like Hefner I’d lived at times with my robe , a writer, and now in the country I was the writer who wore comfortable closthing and wrote.  I liked the sensuousness of being female but my masturbatory fantasies were of being a man with females.

In the next years sailing I’d be a pirate and ships captain and at most wear a sarong and not have any questioning of my sexuality but struggling with what was the future of a childless marriage and a wife who was always depressed without drugs.  I was excited by sailing and exploring but she was forever getting in fight with other girls and had no friends.  My friends were the ones she used and in the end she only wanted to know my friends who did drugs and scorned my colleagues and gossiped negatively belligerently about my good friends, the ones who I knew who rarely drank and rarely smoked dope.

I d say I never wanted to see the dealers around and complain that while we were away she’d knowing let her house be used as a grow operation. I was working in addition at the time and she thought a bag of dope from the dealers for free was suffient reward. She got her coke.  I bought her all manner of lingerie and we began using toys. She got into coke again and her girlfriends had told me that was her thing younger and a major problems. She had inherited millions but we were living on my savings and I’d got work again in the north but as she had millions I said she could manage all the money anf she set up accounts for her self and took my money I made and was doing coke and I was smoking dope and drinking red wine and masturbating. Sometimes I was cross dressing.  I’d gone to a second hand store and had a cheer leader skirt and wore that and was writing.  

I’d a job lined up in Tenessee but she wouldn’t go and she wouldn’t get out of bed.  I prepared to set up a practice , I’d set up several successful practices on my own but when we built a clinic in the country she’d simply not worked .She did dope and stayed in bed and refused to work,. She got a job with government and didn’t work for years yet with goof nurses and supervision in the north she’d functioned.  I tried again. We invested my northern money in a clinic. I took out a $50,000 dollar loan because she said her millions were in investments and her corrupt lawyer backed her and she didn’t work. She did coke and got her hair done and didn’t show up for a waiting room of patients and referrals which dried up in a week. I organized a party for her to ‘open her practice’ and she bought gallons of wine and catered for a hundred or more but she didn’t send out invitations to the gps.  She didn’t work. A few of my colleagues arrived wondering at this elaborate set up with all the wine and food and no guests and her dealers and her drunken drug addicted friend who supplied her coke and became quickly loud and embarrassing.  

It was a nightmare.

I was suddenly seeing 10 people a day coming home to her stoned and depressed and watching her do more medically dangerous and shit show things as she was only happy and content on coke,  I am so thankful it was never my addiction or desire but I drank wine and smoked dope and smoking dope I didn’t think but played guitar and masturbated off fucked and thought it would all turn out,

I couldn’t go on.  I took to staying in motels with my dog because she was up all night on coke. I wasn’t thinking sexually . In survival mode I was all male and asexual. I thought she was trying to kill me as her mother had tried to kill her father. She was more insane than my patietns and it was a nightmare of nightmares. 

There was an unnecessary early death and I couldn’t say more. I’d been through that already previously putting work before family and now protected family.  I was seeing a psychiatrist who didn’t think I was drinking too much or smoking too much dope but was as concerned as I was about her cocaine use.  We arranged to send her to family to get her away from the dealers ….she’d had black dealers when I met her and I rather liked that because it was another source of marijuania but cocaine was a different matter. People with dying and losing everything,. She’d had a coke addict carpenter working on our boat a university friend who stole from the other boat owners in the marina who approached me and I fired him and asked her ‘what she was thinking’.  He was her source.  She always lied.  Lying was normal with her. But she was amazing too.  I loved her as I loved my wive’s but I also drank and smoked dope and was a people pleaser and intellectual and a bit crazy.  I was working with the craziest too so had a wife range of tolerance and experience.  It was a long way from the 50’s and none of the marriages I knew were ‘normal’ and I drank less than the doctors in my group and marijuana was everywhere in the upper echelons of my cohort. We smoked dope with doctors and lawyers and engineers.  We drank with the police and military.  It was friends in high plaees.

I cross dressed a week or two in that insaniety. The psychiatrist I saw said that he though I was using cross dressing as an anxiety reduction too.  It was an escape like alcohol and marijuana.

I couldn’t continue. She’d refused to get help and I was sure she was going to kill someone. I was covering for her practice anfd she refused to go to treatment but stayed with her uncle never telling him about her addictions or violence but blaming everything on me.  

I left. I walked out. She’d changed the code on the alarm and I’d arrived home from a day of work with her totally out of it.  I had her dealers casing the place and the house had been broken into several times in the previous years and now  I was increasingly anxious and it didn’t make any sense.  I wasn’t able to to sleep with her ranting all night pacing and not showing up for work.  

I just walked out,. I couldn’t find a hotel that took my dog and went to live with my biker friends who had a grow operation. I’d read the writing. Men are bad. Women are good.  The rich are right and the poor are wrong. She was angry that I initiated divorce proceedings.  I was smoking dope and drinking with these childhood friends who lived on the edge and were happy to have my money pay for their coke. It seemed that in a year everyone who’d been ‘good ole boys’ smoking dope had got into coke and I coulfn’t see it’s merit. I was older and staying up past midnight wasn’t attactive nor were the single young women in their 20’s who lived to party with dope.

I was working on a boat I’d bought with a view to living in the harbour but the guys kept saying I could restore it and I’d do a few hours a day but that was all. It wass a piece of junk and I figure that the $10,000 I gave them , they weren’t my friends, they’d become addicts and feral while I wass away.  One who went onto the hells angels took me aside and said that they did this. They took a person in an stole all their stuff and that I should get out while I could because he’d seen this done a few times and that he didn’t think it should be done for me.

A freind phoned and asked if I needed help. Another Christian. Said he had been given the message to call. I said yes. Bring a truck and pick me up.  He came with a station wagon and we loaded my valuables after I’d lost $30,000 and then with RRSP’s spent another $30,000 on lawyers who vouldn’t do anything because they said she was incredibly wealthy and was using the tactic of the wealthy ‘stalling’.  

I had one night with the bikers where I went out in the woods and work the witches outfit I’d worn out rocky horror pictures show in the moon light alone praying to get out of this mess.. My friend phoned shortly after that.

I ‘d decided that I couldn’t drink or smoke dope. I’d decided too I wanted to rebuild my life from when I’d left church.  I’d been with a Christian psychiatrist in Psychiatry and studied Bible at University in addition to medical school. I thought drinking and smoking dope were a dead end and I’d never do them again. I’d tried quitting smoking cigarettes, in the last weeks, 2 packs a day, smoking green garbage bag old the grow op shake and rolling drum tobacco .. I was a mess. I have a picture of the time . I looked like a pirate. I’d lost a front tooth and vanity hit me. I was fucked.  I returned to the church and cried in the pews remembering the innosvens of the days when I was president of amalgamated baptist youth groups.  I grieved the loss of the idealism I’d had as a poetry and the dreams I’d had as a dancer and entertainer and the dremasI had of serving as a medical doctor and all the service in the north.  I accepted charity from the church when the welfare woman began screaming at me that welfare wasn’t for doctors. My ex had movement all the money into her accounts and I’d cashed my RRSP’s and my friend wasn’t charging me rent but taking IOU’s.  I was getting food from the church and accepted I had to have income. Now welfare verbally abused me and kicked me out humiliating me before a room full of clients.  I was in a constant state of mhumiliation and withdrawing from cannabis and alcohol.  

It was spending long hours walking my dog in the woods. With no furniture in a trailer my friend ‘rented’ me on IOU’s , I’d pay him back in a couple of months I made chairs and table and he borrowed an old futon from a friend. I was praying  and meditating and writing .  

I had no sexual thoughts or feelings then. When I had a sexual urge for a woman I’d contain it and was celebrate another year of my life. I’d been celibate for a year or two as a yogi and now I was intent on being celibate for a year. I was praying and meditation and living very simply.

That’s when Graham learned I’d a private insurance policy I’d paid into for years and now I was getting thousand dollars a month disability and rich. I could pay rent and begin to pay back my debt. I sold some stuff and a thousand dollars to buy a car .  She continued to wrack up debts and play poor living ion a ten million dollar house in shaunghnassey with the multimillion dollar inheritance she’d received and she took my boat. When I learned of that I went from the completely passive failure to that’s not right. I had a Christian lawyer who was a saint because she didn’t feel what was done to me wads right. The Christian doctors totally supported me and didn’t accept the abuser.

I saw a lawyer who said I wads entitled to 5 million from the house as half that assess and he had a forensic accountant who would get me half of the millions she had in investments and bonds.  I said I only wanted my boat, It was only worth $60,000 but it had been my home and I’d worked on it for a decade and done my ships capatain’s papers and sailed it to Alaska and Mexico and wanted to sail again offshore.  The Christian Lawyer, my truthful saint, thought I was generous and that she wass unreasonable. But i got the boat after I put I took it off land with the help of AA friends, Christian’s  and doctors and aboriginals. I had joined AA when Bernie came to the trailer one night to take me too my first meeting.

Looking back at that hell of a year, I’m surprised how a year later clean and sober and back at work with a whole friendship of AA and Christian community how it was ever possible. I was living on my boat but my dog had died.  The dog we’d bought together for his companion she’d sold.  Last I heard she was living alone in that huge house, the mausoleum to her mother and working still. We’ve all grown so old

I had girlfriends in AA who were now sober and intimacy was incredible. I made friends and lovers and sailed solo across the Pacific through hurricanes in winter and had a glorious talented girlfriend but my parents became sick and the work became suffocating and I escaped home anxious again.  I was starting another practice. It was overwhelming stress and my mother was growing worse on my visits and I began dressing as a girl and dating a man . I had some experiences in the park late at night thinking that I couldn’t face any more chaos. I was living in an apartment and considering the options of homosexuality and transgender enjoying cross dressing and joining a cross dressing society. I was off Davie street. But I also had a friend and we continued to camp and date and I sailed and at sea would wear women’s clothes but stopped associating with the Davie street crowd though I’d made a close friend in Gay AA. We weren’t intimate but I dropped a lot of predjudiceds and learned a lot of the falsehoods I”d been fed these years.  

I’d been exorcised and spent a year or two in a ex gay movement and ‘purged’ my clothing and setting into years of fairly monogamous relationship which worked because we didn’t live together and she was who she was. Untreated al anon and isolative and dependent a bit, thoroughly involved with her family but while her children had problems the adults of her family where sane.  I thought that was an improvement .  She associated with negative people as had my ex but had enough positive relationships and when I went to AA or Church she was happy to come along. On her own she was Christian but isolative.  I was taking theology and going to AA and church and working and we were fine, good friends. She was loving and amazing.  Sexually she’d been one of a kind for the love and friendship.  

I’d begun to fantasize men when I masturbated. I didn’t know when I’d have ED and found that sex was work. I had to think about it even with viagra and that gave me terrible heart burn. I dreamed of lying back and being pleasured. I thought of all the women I’d ‘pleasured ‘ and all the ‘work’ I’d done and was resentful that there was no reciprocity. With the athletes of my youth we were on top and bottom and bucking and bronching but now it was more just ‘work’.  My back hurt.  

I wanted to be seduced.  I wanted to not be the person seeking sex and I had no tolerance for any delay or rejection.  I was thoroughly off the long history of women judging and picking and choosing and man as supplicant.

I’d gone through 2 years of a false accusation and lost $50,000 to a drug addicted psychopath who used a powerful insane beurocrat as her proxy weapon. The hateful pervert said ‘women don’t lie about sex’ and I watched the years of feminist abuse with women not standing up to these people while daily men were destroyed.  

Then we had a chauvinist pig take power and claim to be a feminist and the women celebrated this evil idiot.  I was increasingly fed up.

If you can’t beat em join them.

I was afraid to be around women. Man was the nigger of Canada to paraphrase Lennon who like so many of my youthful idols lost their shine as I grew older.  

I felt safe in the midst of gay and lesbians.  I like my AA and church friends,

At home I let comfortable in shifts. I took to wearing bras and panties when I could, I travelled ‘au femme’ and didn’t ‘pass’ but I was comfortable as ‘non binary’. I felt the church wass family and that there wasn’t a real place for the single who didn’t want to marry’.  

My partner became older and was over worked and tired.  I was over worked and tired. 

My dog and my life were threatened and the College and the Police didn’t nothing. I felt I couldn’t even protect mysel and that as a white man I was by the algorithm of the Marxist Canadian society , the aggressor.  Women and everyone else were the aggressed. Marxism began with the rich as bad and poor as good and Frankfurt school of  Marxism 

arbitrarily extended it’s dualism to any pair, with men , they were the aggressor and women the victim. Victims and Victimizers.  

I could leave Canada and go to a country when the Y gene is not a disease or I could give up the fight, I was so tired of defending against all the bullies of these last years. Or I could lie back and surrender. Rape is inevitable in Canada.  I felt less anxious dressed in a jean skirt and top. I felt more comfortable,

Covid and lockdowns came and I worked from home and gathered a wardrobe from Reitman’s an Walmart and began to feel less anxious and less pressured. In work we were expeeted to perfect but it was all without resources like being asked to do brain surgery under a 25 watt light bulb.

I was in love with the Book ‘Black like me’ younger and everything I learned cross dressed confirmed that women and men weren’t generalizable,  All the politival nonsense was unscientific and power politics.  I was now too old to be anything but marginalized and an outsider.

As an old man I could be a celibate, I’d be a monk and study and write and that’s still available to me 

I thought of retiring but I could use more money to pay off my home directly rather than from savings. I have had severe debilitating pain for years now and am abstinent from drugs and alcohol. I have this year been doing self care and becoming more function. Plane crashes and various other vehicle crashes took their toll but I do think that back pain is psychosomatic back stabbing pain. I pray and forgive and meditation and 12 step and yet keep having intrussive thoughts about the psychopathic betrayals rapes and bullying I’ve experienced all the while I was helping people who experienced this too.

I could die now. I’ve had a good life. Despite the flashbacks and intrussive thoughts and nightmares I’ve achieved my goals, had the best family and friends, greatest lovers, magnificent spiritual experiences, and really am grateful. I have to resist the catastrophising and poor me. I’m learning to live in the present and know God more deeply,

We are all women before God who is the first mover.

A man without a woman is not a man.

I enjoy being a man with my friend. I am tired of being the provider protector and constantly hearing women blaming men. I’m tired of doing all the ‘self work’ and being among people who don’t do any self work but spiritually and mentally masturbate.  I feel like I’m showering spiritually and I’m often among the unwashed .They all love that I’m nice and smell nice but they’re so arrogant and self satisfied doing the least and being so self centred.

Then I’m in a program that says I have to clean my side of the street so I do and feel alone.

I’m afraid to get a sex change because I feel I’d lose my friends but I’m not really sure I want a sex vhange except living in Canada or maybe its BC. If I moved to Texas, Calgary or Paris I’d feel fine being a man, I liked the Parisian women celebtating old men. I have many successful male friends who have left Canada and live in South America, africa or Asia where women don’t loath being women, don’t hate men, and celebrate older men.

I’m an outsider as a cross dresser and transgender.  I suspect i could make a new network of friends in the community though there are too many who have addictions in that world for my Joy. Indeed I wonder if my own transgender is a sex addiction.  

I could take testosterone or estrogen but I feel castrated in canada and finally after years of abuse by the authorities I think ‘identification with the aggressor’ is the way to go.  I think women in Canada would applaud en mass death of men until the next day they realized that men were good slaves and servants.  

The courts have stolen the children of men.  

The men in my practice physically raped by men and physically assaulted by women have been so sad,  I was beaten in my sleep by a coke addicted woman who broke into my apartment after i tried to break up with her. “No one leaves me she was screaming”.  I asked my patients with gashes all over their heads why they stayed with their physically abusive wife’s. “When I ‘m not their they abuse the children’.  I have seen men whose children have been killed by addicted mothers.

Admittedly I’m anxious.  I’ve been anxious a lot and I pray all day and go to meetings and share and cry.  I don’t know what to do next but I’ve done my duty as a man and served my time and now would like a vacation as a woman.  Women have been crossdressing since Chanel’s pants and Hillarie’s Pant Suits.  The whole femininity of the 30’s and 50’s and the best girl friend of the 60 have today ended with Kardasian and women angry at men while the elite men and women get away with murder and no one cares.

I found 80% of my colleagues are burnt out except the elite and those in Quebec who have been coasting for decades.  

Now I’m okay.  I’ll die soon,  I have less back pain and really 90% of the time I’m blessed. I’m so grateful. I am confused but I pray and know god is good all of the time.  This too shall pass and I’ll know a door opens as another closes,

Today I have love and friends and I have a wonderful dog who keeps me going for walks and eating meals.  We’re okay. I just know that if I had a choice to be an alien I’d probably put on a blue body and get on a space ship. But I wouldn’t want to leave all I love here either.  Ambivalence is a bitch.  

Hair Appointment

I’m enjoying my hair long again.  Chatter’s Hair Salon in Lougheed Mall is my go to place, A beautiful young woman who only comes in on Saturdays did the best job of my hair one day finding the right blond tint so that the grey was hidden but the roots didn’t stand out.  

I’m often in the twin spirit world.  As a spiritual person I know myself as a soul.  Even believing in Christian reincarnation I see this body as temporal. God is not a gender.  I don’t know what to refer to myself as .  I sometimes say Gender Fluid. I’m no longer the ‘alpha male” I was for decades young. I was competitive successful and a stud, loving women solely yet I’d been abused and twenty years ago I began to integrate these selves.  The child within. I’d wanted to be a playwright and worked as a dancer. I loved the theatre.  But I took the responsible road of service. I married and waited for a family only to find the women had moved on and for some reason I chose girls who were independent and friends called career girls as opposed to homemakers. I loved them as companions but after years the lack of children or mutual focus interfered and with divorce I was thrown back into adolescence. That’s that developmental phase of being single betfore thee new family.  I took care of women.  Shared entirely the fruit of my labour with partners and family while having a good life with my dog.  

I enjoyed being the sailor. I enjoyed the tropics where a pair of shorts or a sarong was all I wore. I used to love suits and the ‘power’ of the military jackets. I loved the cordoroy and wool and the tie and that image of the university professor. But I left the university and the cancel culture destroyed all desire to teach.  Each time I spoke there was some bully in the audience.  The best was the lectures I gave to hundreds who all reported that I’d been the best teacher they’d ever had but one, the woman who was a pedophile with her husband , who had not been jailed with her husband, but let go free because of the perversion of the courts, well,  she joined the course and wrote reams of offence as aggression and the university asked how I’d so impressed 99% and offended this one. I couldn’t breach confidentiality and say that the children had told me she and her husband were both having sex with them but the police only arrested him. It was a real eye opener.  I watched year after year the legal evil of myopic focus and the new left comparison against the perfect, I didn’t want to teach where the bullies ruled. 

I stopped wanting to be the ‘wise man’ because all of my dreams of what I would be were trashed by the cultural terrorists. I was afraid.  Being held hostage. Being raped. Being in a plane crash. Going through the ice on a mercy run in a skidoo, being attacked repeatedly and always some space cadet administrator saying they could do better from their armchair desk.  I was a private on the front lines and turned down offer after offer to be an officer or go back into the fight.  I stopped killers and perverts in high places and was applauded by those who counted but made grevious enemies of those who shared the incompetence or perversions and feared me as I was not for sale. I always argued I was because everyone is but the price I would lie for was not little as some who propelled their careers with deceit and silence. . Then truth became relative and the women said ‘my truth’ and ‘your privilege’ and all manner of ‘jargon’.  I tried to stay away. I worked in a corner and paid my bills and tried to survive,  

95% of German society and Russian society were not the animals that Lenin and Hitler were.  Hitler rose to power because he was a killer and encouraged his brown shirts to silence or kill opposition. The Bolsheviks differed from the much larger Mensheviks because Lenin Stalin Molotov and Trotsky said it was good to murder and assassinate and torture and rob banks for the cause. The Maoists genocided the gentle Tibetans like the Muslim Turks genocided the Armenian Christians.  It takes only a a few men to overthrow a regime.  It’s those who do nothing that are complicit. Bonhoeffer spoke of this. Nuremberg confirmed it. Arendt called it the ‘banality of evil’.

I think estrogen encreases with age. I also have a back pain and young I’d fuck standing up with any number of injuries.  Today I really have to think if fucking is worth the pain.  I imagine that a blow job or being on the bottom is better as it’s less demanding. I’ve grown lazy with age. I don’t want to start a revolution. I don’t want to fight the good fight. I’m resting on my laurels. I’ve done the manly things and been vindicated over and over again.  I don’t think of it as resentment.  I’ve come to accept the past but the issue for me is the future

I’ve also realized that I have God’s protection.  Archangel Michael is there always cleaning up the threats. Also if the leadership were all bad, in the College in Government I’d not survive.  I’ve been persecuted and abused but it’s like all these good people who don’t want the evil perverts and lazy shits to win protect me from death and removal. I’ve survived only because the good people in government have supported me. One step ahead of the crowd, you’re a leader. Two steps a head of the crowd, you’re a martyr. I’m mostly 1 and 1 1/2 steps ahead.  

I love my reliable straight and narrow father friends who ,because they have children and mothers beside them ,have not had the advantage or disadvantage I’ve had of freedom. I’ve not had any children supervision or been that worried about consequence. I have taken risks physically and financially and career standing up to and stopping the bullies but I’ve also danced on the tables and sailed alone across an ocean or climbed mountains alone facing all manner of extraordinary danger which I’d not if I was a ‘family man’.  I actually did worry about my cat and dogs

But today I’d rather be a 50’s girl. I’m struggling with the image of retirement. I’m working as a wage slave within the narrowest range of healing we can do using a tenth of my capacity because lawyers and beurocrats are micromanaging health care and they are more into the Thanatos ‘death wish’ than Eros “the life wish. They seem to know nothing of miracles and even placebo,  They are sluggish in their thinking and ideas which are so concrete. Piaget wouldn’t approve. I’m in a cage of rules that prevent flying and all I can do is triage in war and leave the leadership to fools like Trudeau. I’m a foot soldier in the days of King George the 3rd.  Years from now they’ll find that there was a new ssyphillis that infecthed the minds of the UN dictators.

I’m old. It surprises me. I don’t really know what to do when I grow up. I’m doing okay. I’m a little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike hole doing the next right thing but I don’t feel I’m going up. Rather I’m holding my own,.  I used to be in joy with psychiatry loving helping the patients over and over again, watching them giving up death and suicide and addiction ,feeling good with my work.  I don’t have that same joy. The government invests in lies and euthanasia and Christians are persecuted and evil ideals prevail.

I was an idealist as a man. That was animus to me. My anima is ‘live and let live’….go with the flow and ‘don’t rock the boat.  “I’m a pacifist girl and have no desire to be on top. I like to wear panties and bra and remind myself I’m not wanting to fight. I’m old. I’m full of estrogen. The television and the university are full of Greta Thunberg. Girls voted for Trudeau. The feminists promise us they will protect us from the communists and rewrite history and deny the evil of women and that Hitler and Stalin and Mao had mothers and wives and girlfriends.  Perhaps more evil than them. The divide and conquer along feminist lines is women good, men bad,

I’m good there fore better to be a Mad Molly than get caught up in the English French insanity.  The old are the persecuted today. 

We saw that with Covid.  

The old are wasted with the devastation to their pensions and their lives of hard work stolen and belittled.  I’m one of the old. I dress like Klinger in this war.

I wouldn’t mind breasts but I’m rather fond of my Willie.  I loved learning that 10 % to 30% of men were having sex into their 90’s I’m all for being in that group,  More women are having sex too. I’d like to pleasure my partner and be pleasured but I don’t want to carry a bride to the bed room or do any of that harlequin romance or dirty 50 shades of grey shit. I’m a DH Lawrence sort that would like to play on the grass at the picnic. I sometimes miss marijuana because we spent hours lovemaking and now it’s not the process but the end.  I guess there’s the surprise in lasting.  Orgasm.  Rated or over rated.  

I’ve loved the psychologist friends and female doctors I knew who had long term relationships with males and females.  Even now I know so many that switched sides after decades of marriage.  A change. The psychologist said I love a person and if I love the person I will love the body. They’d been wth a man for 20 years and were with a woman for 20 years. They didn’t have morality or believe in the anti homosexuality so prevalent in those who need a scapegoat.  Cherry pickers from the bible who love to point fingers but deny their own sins. Everyone carrying signs saying my sin is less than yours. 

I’m into gluttony with Covid. I’ve got my 20 lbs and bought my first container of egg nog. I suspect it will be my last. I’m too fat for Christmas.

Advent. The coming of the king.

So many I have known have died.  Jim Donahue sang, Coming of the King before Christmas and moved me to the core,  

Now I enjoy that I can wear a dress to the mall and get my hair done and no one seems to care, I was early having long hair and was shot at and was chased through corn fields of Saskatchewan by four guys with base ball bats screaming kill the hippy.kill the long hair. 

It’s probably why I cling to what’s left of it. And still swear being attacked for saying fuck by Elliott’s hollow men.

I guess I have ptsd.  

I loved Travelling Wilbury’s. 

Handle me with Care. Going to the end of the line.

The dead are light points of darkness in the sky where constellations once were. I look up and the Big Dipper is gone. My brother and father and mother. The North Star is not there. Orion is absent. Cassiopeia is a point of darkness. Bernie, Hank, Scotty.  

I find it hard to get close.  Every one seems mortal to me and I’m like the Highlander.  I feel lifetimes along and so few are continuing to survive with the future more of this while I just want to play. Girls just want to have fun . I miss the dance. Jesus said do not be afraid. It’s all fear porn today.

One day I’ll ‘retire’ and maybe return to theatre and dance , play guitar around campfires, ATV in the woods with my dog, sail oceans again. . Right now I’m doing my “duty”.  I’m stoking the star maker machinery behind the popular song.  Carrie get out your cane. 

I can’t even relate to the music today.  Love the symphony.  Appreciate history.  Like walking among art. Contemplation, prayer , meditation,  

I find people say away from me when I cross dress.  Young, they bullied me but today I’m old and keep  my space if respected but as an old man I’m threatens  Young Turks and Young Thugs.  I jumped in the air and kicked the leader of the gang right in the face as they came for me.  I took out two with jump kicks and kneed a third in the face and the rest held back as I then ran. I was young and full of life,  Now I’d pull my groin muscle if I jumped in the air.  When the Muslim muggers in Athens assaulted me screaming ‘kill the infidel’ ,  stealing my gold cross for money not for religion, I’d only been able to run, my first martial art,

Yet when the dark men on Davis Street who were assaulting single femine men hospitalizing them circled me in my high heels I realized how vulnerable women dress , dependent on the group and the society. Faced  with these barbarian low brows I was rather frightened that I was going to get hurt and wasn’t going to be able to out run them in high heels.  As a man I’m always carrying some kind of weapon, Boy Cout prepared with Leatherman or Swiss Army Knife or worse.

it’s strange.

When I’m alone I have no limit to the thoughts and imagination. Among friends I settle into the role. When I’m sexually active with a woman there’s little desire to be anything more than her partner but alone without plans and a world of choice I’m wondering if I should go bungee cord jumping, take a course in sky diving or get a ticket to Thailand to have breasts. I really like breasts and having my own pair might reduce the pangs I feel when the girlfriend leaves.  All the women I ‘ve known have had marvellous breasts and my lesbian friends tell me that they’re as enamoured with breasts as I am. But then I’ve loved all aspects of women except the false acccusations, lies and deceit and evil which is forgiven by women so that they don’t seem to manage their own so often where as I’ve many times controlled men who would hurt women.  All the causes I’ve been in defending ‘underdogs’ and now I’m growing old and don’t feel the safety of the group,.  I don’t feel my mind is anything but in high heels in a court of jackals. That’s fear.

Jesus said “Do not be afraid’.  ‘Jesus never said anything about women in business suits’.  He never said anything about men in frocks either.

Oh well. Time to dress for a hair apt.  

Shame

Friday Morning, day before Halloween

I woke early and decided to stay up.  6 am, 6 hours of sleep. I’d been unable to put down the book I was reading.  

Now I’m back to reading it, a Jasmine Frame detective novel. 

Halloween weekend. It’s the time of year for cross dressers and Samhein.  Our Christmas in a way.  Since Rocky Horror Picture Show I’ve been dressed in some form of women’s garb. Before that I’d worn diapers and witches costumes. Now I’m just thankful for a night when it’s perfectly acceptable for a bloke to wear a skirt.

I’ve worn my kilt and scottish regalia on other occasions but that’s military and masculine garb.

I like the soft fabrics and easy clothing of ladies wear. I remember as a child and young man I was very much into the dandy male wear. A dancer and actor in the making I’d loved wearing a new sports jacket and slacks. But after medicine and the white lab coats I was back to uniforms. Then as a consultant it was the return to a sportsjacks and slacks. I liked wearing ties. They were the one piece of male wardrope where one could express the whimsical and individual. I had a collection of wool ties and ties reflecting fine art. I loved my Rembrandt tie.  

Then one day, 20 or 30 years ago men’s clothing really did seem ‘au drab’.  I loved wearing women’s clothing and enjoying the make up like I was back in the theatre.  No doubt the dissociation associated with trauma and the added even worse trauma of the disclosure of trauma contributed. 

Halloween was the night. There were the ball nights, so called Drag Queen Balls. I did enjoy those. I even had my hair done up and nails for one occasion.  Friends didn’t recognise me till we met on these occasions and I whispered who I was.  It was so much fund to be incognito. 

I felt free and confidential dressed and made up while as a man I felt forever on guard.  I never did recover fully from the appalling trauma I experience decades back when all my civil rights were stripped and I was roundly abused by sociopaths in suits.  I’ve simply never felt safe in Canada since. We only lease our houses from the government and bureaucrats can imprison anyone.  I was released but the lies and the fowl play stayed like Hamlet.  Romeo and Juliet, the Death of a Saleman but my own fault for muy associations.  Out of the country I relax. Often I’ve taken holidays and lived out the fantasy of au femme in some foreign place where no one would recognise me. I always found Joni Mitchell’s song “Freeman in Paris”, playing in my head at those times. There was a lightness to my step. I thought too of Leonard Cohen’s song poem, Lover Lover and his line I want a new face. The sad part about betrayal is it is done by your friends.

Now I don’t care so much and for years I’ve just not thought anything of going out on occasion in a dress or skirt. I’ve enjoyed buying the alternatie clothing.  It’s all exciting and taboo. A whole journey which only others like you have shared. The humiliation and stigmatisation and judgemental attitudes of transphobic shop girls versus those other wonderful women who are simply so loving and helpful. I remember decades back getting the first breast forms and the pocket bras.  I loved the ladies who fitted me and helped me.  Those early days it was all so scarey and exhilerating.  

Of course I talked ad infinitum to pscyhiatrists, counsellors and pastors. I was even exorcised but it didn’t seem to take. There was that whole business of collecting clothes and purging but ultimately the cheap Scottish genes kicked in and I simply moved the women’s clothing to the locker only to bring it back months later.  Finally there was a separate locker or suitcase and on occasion I’d enjoy the repreive from the war footing.  I’d always had to protect and provide.  I’d always had to defend. Defending those who were injred and abused meant I was their ally and the very people and institutions who hurt them hurt me for even associating with them.  I fought bullies in school and at some point past middle age I realized thet it didn’t end.  I actually spent some years seeing a psychiatrist to discuss why I helped the needy and how best I could change to be more selfish like I ought to be. Being empathic helped my patients but certainly did not stand me well with the hierarchy. I’d actually identified and had removed senior doctors, nurses, hospital administrators and even a judge all who had been corrupt, sick but by their evil behaviour hurting others.  I”m thankful for those who had my back but I was usually alone in the fray and the system tooks days, months or years to right itself.  I still wonder what life would be like if I just didn’t care. I asked people not to kill people in front of me but they seemed to take greater glee in the act of killing and the act of doing it in front of me.  

I’ve been most suspicious of smooth operators.  The school yard bullies were stereotypical but the adult bullies looked like lawyers, mayle and female, ‘power suits’ and gentile manners, well groomed and well heeled.  A certain indifference.  I loved Arendt’s description of the Banality of Evil,.

Au femme I didn’t think of such things.  ‘Girls Just Want to Have “ fun was the song that ran through my mind. I tried to get along with everyone and didn’t object or care what people did outside of my contact with them.  It’s amazing but a girl can have coffee with Hitler and he can be very charming and it can be a fine night and that’s all it is.  Once you find out that the person you met briefly socially was a psychopaths then it’s on you to continue the relationship. I walked away but as a girl wasn’t engaged in work or service.  I was in the au femme mode on vacation. The clothing assisted me in the leaving behind of the white lab coat and the sports jacket that had been fashioned on the British Empire Officer’s military jacket.  

When I wore high heels and a white silk free flowing dress carrying a designer bag with only a few possessions, I don’t feel any desire to step forward and stop a fight or a rape or literally get involved with anyone else’s monkey’s and circus.  I had slip on heels on Davie one late night, possibly another Halloween, and was walking alone when a car with 4 jeering angry south asian man circled by me twice.  I was actually afraid.  They’d been beating up gay men and it was in the news and there I was looking like prey and wondering why women don’t carry purse guns, hat pins and wear sensible shoes. I was ill prepared and realized Feminists don’t want ‘women’s rights’ like the ‘women’s liberation' crowd I was part of.  Feminists just want to wear 4 inch heels and blame men for not protecting these little princesses.  I’d done my share as a man of protecting drunk and drug addicted ex’s with bad mouths from the consequences of their behaviour and frankly didn’t like that role. But we’d argued back then for women to have the right to purse guns and I taught women self defence.  Now here I was in these silly shoes knowing I’d at best take two of the four. Au drab I’d consider the odds not insurmoutable. I’d hospitalized three of 7 attackers once and had escaped many a hairy situation but here I was in nylons and fuck me shoes that were not even meant for walking. I was glad they left and later weeks later the police would catch them and I’d recognise them as the very same guys who followed me.  Perhaps at 6 feet tall broad shouldered and proud walk despite the coiffed hair and padded bra and flimsey dress I’d seemed to threatening to these low life low brow cowardly thugs. 

I’ve always missed the one on one cowboy fighting my friend Kirk and I engaged in as children. Later I’d do martial arts and even competed one on one in wrestling one year. I lost and wasn’t interested in belts but loved learning the skills and starting as a teen the oponents didn’t bow. They also carried knives, scars I remember painfully learning to avoid, and usually came with two or three on one.  It was only in my 20’s I began to be shot at, revolvers appearing out of nowhere and shots whizzing through the air from rifles.  I know that anyone who has faced guns has respect for them and those whose world is tv and games don’t.  I’m deeply disheartened that so many Canadian girls are so utterly ignorant of guns, and war and men.  Our military and police have done simply too good a job.  When I was in charge of the dangerously insane wards in jails and asylums I met the people that one one one scared me and I wished that it was a requirement of politicians especially liberal women to spend some time with these individuals so they could leave off their utopian fantasies and join us blokes in real world.

I envy the princess.  I wrote “I want to be a pricness for a day”.  I admire all the good mothers in my life and the great women I know. Transexual M-F go through an interesting phase when they begin to come out, often dressing age innappropriately or like hookers. The first is the appeal of the girl becoming a woman teen and trying out of different fashions, the too short skirt, the obviously not sensible shoe.  The longer one cross dresses and the older one becomes the more appropriate one is. It’s the teens thazt go through a range of styles and fashions till the settle on what works for them We do the same though with less time and less feed back.  It’s the secretiveness that surrounds us. 

Also the young transgendered aren’t dressing up for work but for social life so there’s an emphasis on the erotic. The difference between the celebrity and the whore is subtle and watching men frequently fail in achieving the right balance is a source of amusement.

I’ve not cared to ‘pass’.  I once read a delightful book called the ‘lazy cross dresser’ and realized that women have been cross dressing for a hundred years and most cultures don’t have the rigid differentiation that ours done. In the tropics I was content to wear a sarong or shorts and t shirt. It’s only in winter Canada that I ‘m even considering hose and undergarments.  

Halloween is a fun time. The Parisian and Italian Concubines and the Western Saloon girls and Burlesque all have a flavour of the 30’s flapper party. Mail order allowed all of us to order clothing fitting for home and since we were not going out it’s not surprising that the transgender crowd has robes and night gowns but not a pinafore in their wardrobe.  It’s only late in the game that cross dressers, transvestites and transexuals actually where gender distinct work clothing. My friend the Transexual Diesel Mechanic simply didn’t change from blue overalls to pink overalls. The overalls the girls working with him wear are blue like his and men and women have long hair and earring so for the trades its often only an issue of their choice of underwear and because they don’t want boobs caught in machinery everyone wears the equivalent of the sports bra or binder. No bullet bras in the journeymen and journeywoman world. 

The Transgender ‘clothing’ issue arises in the legal profession and the office where the female stil wears the skirt despite Hillary’s ‘pant suit’. Ironically high heels remained and make up and lipstick feminists refused to go Amish because theyt really didn’t want equality but rather wanted leverage. Their natural sexuality and appeal to counter the male muscle and brawn.  Hundred thousand years of natural selection.  A hundred years of modern society.  Freedom a very recent matter for the masses. The rich and powerful were always wearing women’s knickers one days armour and swords the next.  What mattered was power.  Conformity was the means to survive for little guy. 

The oldest law is the Chinese law of the fish: There are big fish and little fish.Little fish must be fast and numerous.  Parents wanted children of the middle and lower classes to not ‘stick’ out’.  The tall poppy synderome of the Australian world is the one that got chopped off. The elitte by contrast could in their private world do wahtever. As one poor black man said , ‘social workers and police are in every aspect of our lives. We live on the streets or among others.’ Only the rich can live alone in mansions with no one monitoriing their coming and goin.

In Communist countries everyone is an informer. Wealth and power give those that can afford it the Epstein Island experience or as novelist Patterson wrote, the cannibal dinner party experience. The jaded crave new sensation.

Halloween and All Saints Day and Samhein are all about transpersonal reality. This world and these passing cultural fads and fashions are nothing to the reality of life and death and questions of heaven and hell and purgatory.  We mock convention.

I wear a dress. I have no desire to be a zombie or dress as the dead. I’ve seen far too much death. But I’ve not known enough of the world of Jane Eyre and the Bronte Sisters. That DH Lawrence and Somerset Maugham world placed before the responsibilities of adult hood where families are formed and people live in the fish bowl created by their children who are questioned by teachers and bear tales of the house to neighbours and all.  I didn’t have children. I wasn’t policed. I had a dog who didn’t care if I wore leggings or pants as long as we went for interesting walks and he was well fed and I threw the ball. I can throw ball in skirt and heels or jeans.  My dog might have told the other dogs I was a bit queer but he didn’t tell the authorities.

My friends and family have not really understood but have been tolerant.  I’m surrounded by people who like the male me which I’m thankful for. I’ve served well but at the cost of leisure and self.  Dressed in a skirt I am still capable of writing. But I was driving by an accident au femme and stopped. I stood and observed that those already there were doing a reasonable job. I’ve saved so many lives at accidents and stepped in a took charge. But I actually thought I didn’t want to be exposed or dirty my clothes or get involved so only stood back observing. If anyone had done something wrong I’d have stepped in but au femme I was content to stand on the sideline. I’m also old and learning to let the young muddle along. After a while I left and seeing ambulances with flashing lights, adrenaline and testosterone coursing through the veins of the young.  I pulled out and drove on, glad not to be involved except peripherally.  

I don’t want to be centre stage. Most of my life I’ve enoyed the role of the assistant to the king. I used to be my father and my brother’s assistant and even my mother’s assistant and in surgery was sought after as a surgical assistant. I have definitely been in charge.I’m a solo sailor and a captain but I much prefer the militia to the offiial troups, the role of scout to the role of colonel, or simply being one of the crowd. I have been president and vice president but now am thankful to be able to serve. I’ve always liked duty and service and doubt that is affected by my sense of twin spirittedness or clothing.

Halloween is a time to celebrate the dark passenger or the breadth of the Jungian anima/animus/personna and shadow.  It’s a full moon too.  And an American election year. And the unspoken war with Communist Chiina continues while our PM appears more and more stoned but claims now that he’s ill. Everyone is playing the pity card. I don’t wish to. I like Gladwell’s writing on outliers. I’ve been castigated for intelligence, wealth, poverty, clothing, lack of clothing, sexuality, etc.  Judgementalness is a major coping strategy for many. I love the Catholic list of sins and how those with gluttony and sloth condenm those with lust and the avarice condemn all. I’m trying very hard to learn the Franciscan idea of acceptance, of myself and others. 

Halloween Hallow’s Eve.  I’m fay too. Its definitely the time of the year to be fay. 

 

 

Female Transvestism

All Western European and North American women are by definition "transvestic". They have been cross dressing with abandon however only in the last century. In the delightful movies about Coco the "sensation' caused by the great French designer Chanel's 'pants', the emblem of manhood in the Age of Rationalism, is well depicted.
It's not that women never were 'transvestic'. Female saints of medieval times were often caught without skirts. St. Joan of Arc was perhaps the most famous sainted cross dresser.
Early psychoanalytic writers argued, as commonly was the case ,from their ethnocentric persective, that women dressing as men 'increased their power." This interpretation derived from the social communism of early feminism which defined women as 'proletariat' and men as 'bourgeosie'. The leading feminists of that era commonly priviledged upper class women, defined themselves in traditional Marxist Leninist terms as the 'intellectuals' who indeed 'dictated to the proletariat'. Bra burning was only ever popular with women wealthy enough to afford an excessive amount of clothing.
However, in the same token, these self styled "social scientists' overlooked the obvious history of Scottish men wearing skirts. For blokes to wear frocks indeed took huge balls when the English low landers were outlawing, and putting to death, all highlanders wearing 'kilts' or sporting the 'tartan'.
In the Middle East the Arabian culture has long worn 'gowns' and 'same sex' or 'unisex' attire has prevailed around the world at various times without it having much significance from a 'status' perspective. Just as the great play, "The Hospitality Suite" by Roger Rueff later made into a movie, The Big Kahuna with the most memorable performance by Danny De Vito, contained the line "Jesus had nothing to say about women in business suits", so Jesus himself never wore pants.
Today, Dr. Ray Blanchard's work on transexual men has been underscored by recent MRI neuroscience studies. Dr. Blanchard speculated that there was a difference between homosexual men seeking early transexual surgery and later age transexual m-to-f patients who were predominantly heterosexual. MRI studies support the greater gender deviation in the younger homosexual population as opposed to the older population. Both groups have similiar outcomes post surgical 'revision", though the older group tend to have higher IQ's, greater education and more likelihood of what Dr. Blanchard coined "autogynephilia" (sexually attracted to the thought of themselves as women rather than the younger group which was more sexually attracted to men themselves.) (Dr. Ray Blanchard's typology has been politically questioned and may not have significance except historically as tens of thousands of transexual operations continue to change the diversity of the once familiar and limitted landscape.) Indeed Brazilian transexuals not so affected by western dichotomy see themselves as a 'third' alternative. In this regard they are like some aboriginal and polynesian aboriginals who granted distinct status to the 'twin spirited' who often held healing or leadership roles in their communities.
Transvestism has been greatest in the heterosexual population and as evidenced by female transvestism may or may not be essentially related
to sexuality. Gender as indicated in Ivan Illich's book of the same name is a 'multi varied' matter. It's certainly far more than the reductionism of either Marx, Lenin or Freud.
MRI studies do indicate differences in brain development but this seems to reflect to a large degree the influence of hormones.
It seems quite unlikely that there will be any similiar research or evidence of distinctive differences in female brains given the universality of transvestism in this population. Given the capacity for hormonal induced beard growth transexual men (f2m) 'pass' easily in the outer culture . A man dressed even in a 'kilt' draws attention more than even the young 'metro' men keen on make up and waxing off body hair. Surgically transexual men (f2m) have greater problems with 'bottom' surgery, though advances continue to be made. The men who initially have greater difficulty with outward appearances have today relatively satisfactory 'bottom surgery' solutions that allow them to 'pass' in the bedroom. One day, and as parents define the gender of their children earlier, these concerns immunologically and surgically will be moot points.
Heart bypass surgery was considered science fiction 50 years ago as were kidney transplants. There are rarely limits to science where there is interest. If transexual 'conversion' could somehow be shown to have military benefit or related to global warming then the researchers would have the funding to make the advances which might one day make the whole matter academic.
No one today views female transvestism with the horror it occasioned when I was on a high school student council executive and put forward the motion that women in Winnipeg should be allowed to wear pants to school in winter. It was so controversial in it's day that I personally was threatened in all manner. I shudder to think what controversy must have arisen when some silly boy or girl suggested we need not wear 'uniforms' to school.
Today transvestism and cross dressing by women is decades ahead publicly of the private behaviour of men in general. Personally I'm thankful that it's been decades since I was shot at from a passing car as a 'long haired' hippy. No doubt pant wearing women faced similiar issues even before they donned 'business' suits.
Brain research on 'gender' has acknowledged an evolutionary basis following in the footsteps of Charles Darwin who really was merely the imitator of that great eccentric Alfred Russell Wallace. "We are born this way" is a main proponent of the political platform of the Rainbow community and no doubt some 50% of influence as in most matters may have a genetic basis. However despite the monopoly of Darwinism, Lamarkian ideas still have a role with increasing evidence supporting some combination of the two.
Were 'politics' not the mainstream influence on science that it is, research into the differences of female transvestites comparing say, 'lipstick' lesbians that at first were such an offence to the 'butch' lesbians of an earlier era. MRI evidence might well suggest differences which follow rather than precede changes as the neuroplasticity of the brain becomes increasingly apparent. Patients with head injury have major 'shifts' anatomically as do those who do drugs for long term, alcohol for one long known to cause dementia with the damage shown on MRI.
Diversity doesn't suggest 'disease' though there are always those who would have everyone like them, fearing difference as genetically as those who embrace change.
From a purely 'fashion' perspective there seems to be every element of historical presence today from the age of Egypt to the Rennaissance to the 30's and 60's. Cosmetic surgery and cosmetic 'medicine' and even 'cosmetic' psychiatry are already well established. No one really can speculate whether these areas will remain termed 'cosmetic' as the 'serious' medicine and surgery continues as 'necessary' only as a product of 'life style' 'choices' of the population. A respiratory surgeon says his department might never have developped were it not for 'tobacco'.
It remains possible that women might revert to hooped skirts and gays return to the closet and students dress collectively in uniforms, Perhaps as William Gibson speculates in his genius novels camouflage may represent the gold "fashion" of the future where 'armies' become the principal outlet for youth.
For now female transvestism is the new normal.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Stonewall Inn, Greenwich Village

When poor weather caused a layover in Newark, I made the best of it by taking a train to Greenwhich Village.  There I came upon Stonewall Inn, the famed site of the start of the 1969 Stonewall Riots.  The Stonewall Riots are associated mostly with the Gay Activism of the 60's that paralleled the Civil Rights movements of the day. What I found interesting about Stonewall when I first read of this confrontation between the New York City Police and the patrons of Stonewall Inn was that in fact the altercation was between 'men in frocks' , "drag queens', "transvestites', "cross dressers' and police. This spectacle of the armed  "men in blue" losing the fight to the "boys in pink tootoos" must have been something to behold.

At the time as today all women are 'cross dressing' and 'tranvestic' in America whereas men in 'skirts' even 'kilt wearing' Scots are still subject to discrimination and abuse. Jesus with his long hair and robes would no doubt face discrimination by the New York Police Department then for 'appearances'. as he previously ran afowl of the police of his day for "substance" , insisting that the true God was 'loving' not "punishing".

The police discrimination and abuse of the 60's was not about 'sexual orientation' but rather about 'conformity', especially to dress code.  The vast majority of 'cross dressing' men are indeed heterosexual.  The book "Pink Swastika" records the Nazi acceptance in the SS of homosexual men and pedophiles but condemnation and persecution of the effeminate gay males.  The book "Transgender Warriors" records the history of cross dressing in social activism as portrayed best by the "Molly Maquires" of agrarian reform group who commonly disquised themselves as women.

At Stonewall Inn a Dolly Parton look alike was doing a splendid job of entertaining.  The audience was mixed and joined in on the chorus lines.  As bars go it was rather upscale and conservative, not at all like the mafia owned speakeasy of an earlier era.  I'd just been to Disney World in Orlando where I'd bought a Harley Davidson t shirt and now bought a Stonewall Inn tshirt in keeping with being a tourist.  I'd spoken in Orlando with another aging psychiatrist, one who I'd met first as 'he' before 'she' became 'she' with a sex change.  Our conversations invariably seem most about RV's and favourite trailer courts, as this is our latest shared interest.  I have no idea about her sex life any more than she has any idea about mine.  We are friends.  The fact is I don't know much about my friends sex lives and don't particularly care to.  I think it's a terribly perverse and sick society that had such an inordinate amount of interest in whatever went on between consenting adults in the 'bedrooms of the nations' , to borrow a phrase from former Canadian PM Troudeau. 

I am thankful today that there is no more tacky street wrestling between the 'men in blue' and the 'boys in pink tootoos' no matter how titillating this might have been for some on both sides.  That must have been a truly obscene spectacle.  Having that night in Times Square met, Brandon Stanton, the photographer for "Humans of New York" I realize today's 'spectacles' are a whole different kind than the days of frock wearing Benny Hill and Monty Python.  Cross dressing Scottish comedian Eddie Izzard is truly mainstream. One imagines that with the Mars probe "Curiosity" doing its thing, it's a good thing judges, once very fond of their pretty wigs,  can today admit a world in which male fashion might one day catch up to the Olympic  front running cross dressing females in a beyond "uni sex" celebration of the diversity of appearance.  Developmentally, adolescence is the time of greatest 'conformity'.  The 'global' world today has more matters of 'substance' to address.

Today I was very impressed by  the New York Police Department's presence in the streets of New York.    I, for one, am thankful for them making New York safe for tourists like me.  Times Square was amazing with the hoards of people and the sense of a perpetual party in the city 'that never sleeps'.   The New York Police Department Command Centre there was a welcome sight today.