Alexander Gordon Jahans
I haven’t had much to say because well much of what would go into a blog or a vlog is now going into my writing. The Golden Girl started off as a distraction fic inspired by a fetish story advertised on twitter and just one small part of the premise advertised at that. It has undergone a cerebus syndrome perhaps only matched by how the grand Scorpious arc of Farscape started off with an episode planned to be a clip show. The Farsh-nuke is coming back but he has psychological issues he needs to deal with and the great war between the Freedom Collective and the Raspberry Reich hangs in the balance and all focused on this one man, the person he focuses upon and the academy they choose to enrol at. Because what a story about the fetish of a man being turned into a woman really needs is an elder god angsting about upsetting trans people, lashings of cannibalism and a very weird take on the battle of Hogwarts with a Dumbledore who is most definitely not gay and most definitely evil as almighty sin.
Yeah... there’s a lot going on. I mean it’s 95,000 words and arc wise only a little way into act two. And since I know all that’s going to happen is people searching random terms and judging the whole from the snippets I’ll just say now that taken out of context this thing basically can be used to provide any kind of argument about whatever kind of evil you think I am. If you think I’m a white supremacist transphobic rapey cannabalistic misogynist then there are passages you can take out of context to “prove” that. If you think I’m a filthy virtue signalling guilt riddent white knight social justic warrior cuckold then you can argue that too. Hell I think you could even argue that I was both the devil and jesus and put whatever kind of spin on that you wanted.
A foot print does not look like a boot and if you are going to judge me and the work on one out of context scene in a story that is probably going to surpass a hundred thousand words, making it twice as long as almost anything else I have yet written, then I am not going to take that criticism seriously. All opinions are useful to somebody and I believe in death of the author but looking at scenes out of context as evidence of a while this large is like judging a work of art of a pixel, or a film of a few frames. You can tell some stuff sure. I admit I am a deeply flawed writer and perhaps when this is done I am really going to have to edit but judge the story as a story and me as a person, not me and the story off an essay calling me out, listing quotes taken out of context because there is always bias when you remove context and trust to the summary of a third party.
And perhaps that is why it is a hundred thousand words because holy fuck those are three long paragraphs to the effect of. “I’m not writing non-fiction because the fiction is taking up my energy”
Here’s the thing though. I am basically tying loose ends. Alpha Warriors is entirely one long first move in a literary game of chess and meant to be a new beginning but that is part of me tying up loose ends.
So tangent }~ The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy has a gag about the meaning of life being 42. Except I now find great meaning in that because this is a machine that spent millions of years thinking to come up with an answer that was not good enough and the only way that machine can think to fulfil that purpose is to help design an even greater and more complex machine which will take even longer to arrive at the answer to the same question.
I have been running from the answer to a question that has been obvious to me for at least two years now. I have failed. I don’t know the way out of this mess I am in and I need to die. This is an answer I was running from before I even knew the details. I was just like “The next year is going to be tough, I need a constant reminder that I have to keep living no matter how tough it gets, I need a reminder that I can get through this.” and that was just when I thought my parents were arseholes and I thought it might be a bit hard to get a job.
2013 looks like a freaking utopian period of my life now. Before the nazis, before the psychological blow of friends coming out of the wood work to call me a dangerously transphobic monster then vanishing without an explanation, before I knew I had a tiny dick, before I knew I couldn’t have kids, before the pain, the tiredness and the pills, before being mindfucked by so many different people in such quick succession, before brexit and trump, before the economy slided into a despair so deep that my hopes of getting even a shitty job at ada look positively utopian now.
I have run from the knowledge that I could not see a way out for so long because I had to, because I was fighting fires, because I was doing research and using up options. I couldn’t take stock and be philosophical when my wounds were so fresh that I might well have stabbed myself in the chest and been done with it. How do you realise that you have failed so utterly that you need to become a different person entirely when clinging to who you are is quite literally the only reason you have not killed yourself?
Deep Thought was a great thinking machine and it failed. I consider my mind a construct of a thinking machine and I failed. Deep Thought outlined the next step and I am now finally finding the strength to take that next step.
That’s why I think I’m writing Alpha Warriors. Why I’m revisiting the Virgin New Adventures and Babylon 5 and Hannibal and Farscape. That’s why I’m writing the origins of the Great Farsh-nuke, fanwanky as they are. That’s why I’m bringing the Farsh-nuke back and addressing the trauma of the Laura Queen of Mirth Fanfic within the fiction. That’s why the founding of the United Civilisations and the Paragon’s journey through the Hundred Million Universes deserves to be touched upon.
You know I mentioned in a video once that I was putting off Farscape the Peace Keeper Wars because it was something I’d promised I’d get myself when I graduated and I didn’t want to tie that part of my life up. Some pathetic little prick in the comments laughed at the idea, at that weakness. How can these things be so important? Some men take great pride in being cruel sadistic callous pricks with uncomplicated psychologies. Such men may be thankful that I have rules against perpetrating cruelty and revenge.
Except it did matter to me. When a podcast finishes, or a tv show ends, that is huge for me. That is a great big. “Well what the fuck do I do with my life now.” The difference between then and now is that I am ready to bring things to an end.
I mean I am somewhat at a loss now I’ve caught up with the Audio Guide To Babylon 5 but that’s a different. It’s the difference between the finishing the last book from an author you love and finishing the last book from an author whose work defined your life when you were happy. I’m a gamer. I like to keep some really good stuff in reserve for a rainy day.
This is basically psychological media consuming equivalent of someone who can see war coming and decides that now is the time to crack out the best wine. I know that one way or another, preferably in the way that lets me keep living, Alexander Gordon Jahans, as an identity, has to die. The promise is no longer relevant. All Alexander Gordon Jahans is now is a target for nazis.
I have to change and adapt. I have to think differently, try new things and become a different person. I have to cut people out of my life who would keep pulling me back to that failed and broken identity. I have been so focused on survival that I accepted the excuses, that I accepted the differences of opinion. Here’s the thing. If you have been a cunt to me and you are likely to continue being a cunt to me I don’t need you in my life and I am not going to have you in my life. I have stared death in the face for so long and I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t care. I will cut ties to that dead part of me and no amount of societal obligation will change that.
I am trapped. I have an incredibly tiny amount of options available to me. I don’t need morons who know nothing of the shit I have been through in the last three years expressing empty gestures of advice. You know nothing so don’t condescend to me. Yes, I am trapped. No, I am not going to blindly do what I must to survive. We are beyond that now. I have no cards left to play. I have nothing left up my sleeve. I am out of options and all I have is time. I don’t know how much time but I have it and I am using it.
If your all powerful thinking machine can’t come up with a uself answer, build a better one. So that’s what I’m doing. Already, ideas that I would have instantly nitpicked to death are being more seriously considered. Because I have changed. I have had three years of testosterone now. Three years of walking miles first weekly then almost daily. Three years of learning politics and pop culture. I have been caught between divorcing parents. I have been stalked by nazis and psychologically destroyed by trans people who dropped a drama bomb then fucked off.
I am not the same man I used to be. This really is a kind of regeneration. This is physical, psychological, intellectual and experiential change.
I failed and I am a monster. There is no ambiguity here anymore. No imposter syndrome. I am, by my own standards, bad at writing and deeply problematic. I would hate me if I was a different person. I would consider myself a creepy misogynist. I mean I tried to write a piece about a non-binary elder god and her trans woman companion encountering the origin story of scifi wonder woman and the return of the literal devil and still I kept qwriting submissive white women into the story. My progressiveness is “Look there are black women being kept as pets now and black men owning white women.” Though there is a scene in Golden Girl where a man’s dick gets removed fried and eaten all while it is explicitly stated that due to scifi weirdness the man can feel everything. Almost equal opportunity character cruelty, that’s the peak of my in fiction shown social progressiveness.
And yes, I am very much reminded now of just how much suffering I am capable of wishing upon another, of how incredibly petty I can be. If I could set youtube to allow all comments but personally block everyone who tries to do so, I would, in a heartbeat. The raci9st moronic hypocrites have crowed about freedom of speech for so long that I would want to actually stop such commenters from ever being able to speak or type anything to anyone ever again. You used the word cuck so you get to enjoy a living hell of eternal silence.
And yeah, it does not end well for Adam Godwinson. Basically if you are a Nazi/Trump supporter you get to enjoy a strawman representation of you getting done to it what the trans people thought I did to the person they love and support.
It is kind of funny though, my dad said that I shouldn’t wait until the house is sold to do anything. As though I had anything I could do. I have no money. My online reputation is worse than destroyed. The economy is destroyed everywhere and at the moment I have actually fuck all to live for. I was keeping myself alive to at least get the people I cared about through the worst of the storm we’re in the midst of but morons who don’t understand my psychology successfully argued that my death could never happen at a good time or less terrible time and so... Well I’m not dying if I don’t have to and right now I have enough things I like but the only thing I have left is making myself a new. Is finding a reason worth slogging through the shit. Finding an ability to slog through the shit.
So I’m writing and I’m walking and currently I’m playing skyrim again and that is it.
Okay, that ended darker than I meant it to because this feels like a far more positive place for me mentally, I am starting to fumble my way through the confusion and become a different person who might yet survive this. I am just aware that everything is still shit despite that.