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� In this diary, I record my life as a transvestite. Perhaps it will help somebody else, who finds their lifestyle doesn't quite match that endorsed by the 'tranny mafia'. Well, I've been there... and survived. The debriefing starts here.

�loves: All kinds of stuff that society thinks I shouldn't.

�hates: Microsoft. Obviously.

�reads:
secret-motel
artgnome
enfinblue
stepfordtart
ten-oclock
boombasticat
lawliiet
annanotbob
fifidellabon
my-serenade

Lynn Jones
Becky
Samantha

Out of the blue?
7:21 p.m. -- 2010-04-19

I visited my folks this weekend, and finally unveiled my cunning plan to give my dad a book of restored family photos (old story here). The project has been on a bit of a back-burner lately, but at least I've finally scanned all the pictures. Dad surprised me with his encyclopedic memory of all the people and events in the pictures. Normally, he seems to exist in a comfortable fog of deafness and ignorance, but he identified people and places faster than I could write 'em all down.

I think my timing is good, since my folks have lost quite a few friends recently, and may therefore be very aware of their own mortality. Not a whole lot I can do about that, but we had a good weekend together. In fact the old bugger blinked back a few tears, looking through old photos of his parents. Perhaps I have done a good deed.

In other news... I have time on my hands. Wifey is one of the many, many people who are overseas and learning to adapt to a Europe without air travel. She's set up much better than most of our distressed holidaymakers; working in Paris and happy enough... but for the first time since we married, we're apart with no idea of when she will be able to come back.

And hasn't the sky been an amazing shade of blue, with no jet contrails cluttering it up and turning it to white? Who'd have thought that a cloud of volcanic ash would have made the sky look clearer?

Does not compute.

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