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Astrology Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

Terror


(I wrote this around couple weeks ago, I guess. Before the last astrological storm which led to James’s disappearance. I asked him how he would feel about me publishing it and he said it was fine, but that nothing I wrote was true.This made me feel a sense of relief so I went the dignified route of keeping feelings to myself. But in the end they were prescient, so may as well share them now.)

Now I’m scareder than ever. The last storm was as bad as I feared it would be- sluts, crime, violence, financial disasters- and I just realized that another one is upon me when Mars joins Uranus in James’s House of Sex & Death.

I really feel he’s going to leave me and somehow it will be my fault. It will be something I did. Maybe this blog post. But if not this then something else.

The other day I couldn’t take the pain of what was happening. I kicked a door so hard I can’t walk anymore. James says this was me using the threat of violence to control him.

The bad parts of him leaving are two-fold. One, he has been my whole life. When I fell in love with James I thought I had found True Love and that became my religion, my reason for existing. To accept that it wasn’t real would be the worst pain I’ve ever felt.

Secondly, I have no idea how to survive on my own. He always wanted to support me and encouraged me to rely on him for everything. This was fine because it allowed me to pursue my interests, which he supported. But also it makes it harder to set boundaries when you’ve never earned a living, don’t have a drivers license, a bank account, don’t know how to pay bills etc. I have no idea how the world works and doubt I would be able to cut it.

But I know it would be wrong to stay with someone who doesn’t want you. I guess I still believe in love.

Weird things are happening in James’s mind. More and more I seem to be associated with all the pain and frustration inside.. And other people who he could potentially have sexual relations with have come to be associated with relief from pain. And positive feelings.

More and more he sees bad in me. Devious intentions which I don’t believe are there. Nothing I do seems capable of shifting it. Meanwhile other females have become easy targets on which to project his positive feelings. They aren’t a part of his life. They are just blank screens onto which he can project his own needs and desires. How can I compete with that?

Suddenly, after eleven years of marriage, everything about me is wrong. I am too mentally fast. That is his biggest complaint. Also I never listen. But I listen all the time. He says ‘Yeah but you never understand.’ So I try harder to understand. And yet somehow I never succeed. I make him think too much. I don’t wear enough camouflage (I was literally wearing camouflage shorts when he said this.) I don’t like to get muddy. (I don’t know if this is true, because he has never asked me to do anything involving mud.)

He likes the way the online women communicate better. They mostly just say LOL all the time. But they say it with a depth of understanding someone like me can only dream of. I am mental. They hear with the soul.

So what can I do? I have to prepare to stand alone in this world. The upcoming astrological storm is likely to be more traumatic than the last one. But I don’t know how to make a living.

I get tens of thousands of downloads a month and over a thousand readers a day but probably make around 100 dollars a year. I do astrology readings but just on a donation basis. I haven’t had a job since I was a teenager. I don’t drive, so how will I get groceries? I am so scared.

But I can’t stay if he doesn’t love me. That’s what I was here for, not money or security. And I am trapped in this fun house where no matter what I do, no matter how good I try to be, I get a negative projection returned. I can do no right and online women can do no wrong. He calls them his fireflies. He calls me cuntface. I can only assume this means he wants to be rid of me.

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Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Lime Green & Electricity Music & Songs Uncategorized

The City

No. Please don’t go.
You don’t know how dark it will be down inside that hole.
No. Don’t go away.
There are those who walk & talk but inside they are not the same.

You don’t know. You’ve not seen eyes
where nothing there behind them lies.
Reflecting distant galaxies absorbing all your fantasies.
Until they leave you all behind.

And you wonder what you did down here alive with all your time.

Because they say hi and they say hi and they say hi and they say hi-
That’s what they do, that’s what they do, that’s what they do.

And they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die-
They live from you, they live from you, they live from you.
And then you sink into the blue.

Like a friend.
You follow till you’ve lost yourself around too many bends.
Smile. Play pretend.
Dance or cry it doesn’t change what happens in the story’s end.

You don’t know. You’ve lived in truth
where trees and birds protected you.
But in the city there she lies the light of towers in her eyes.
She knows what happens in the end.

Did you think you were the first time that she found a funny friend?

Because she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi-
That’s what they do, that’s what they do, that’s what they do.

And they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die-
They live from you, they live from you, they live from you.
And then they sink into the blue.

Faces fade into the black. Words that can’t be taken back.
A pact that flows into a hole.
Now you know the place where all the dreams that die will go & go.

Because she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi and she’ll say hi-
That’s what they do, that’s what they do, that’s what they do.

And they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die, no they won’t die-
They live from you, they live from you, they live from you.
And then they sink into the blue.

The CityDownload

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Charleston, West Virginia men Uncategorized Writings

A Meducation

Have you read “Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus”? It is insane. The author describes my conversations with James word for word. He states the exact words I am hoping James will say, then the exact words James says instead, and explains the reason for the disconnect. It’s incredible.

I was going to share some muggets I learned, but decided I must first read it over and over, every day for an hour or so, until it becomes a part of me. The principles make so much sense while reading, but in real life you get lost figuring out how to apply them. I just need to simmer in this wisdom until it becomes part of my bones.

The basic gist though is don’t wear yourself out doing nice things for men. They don’t like this because it reminds them of their mother. What a man really needs is:

A) Permission to be emotionally unavailable so he can do man things, like think about problems. Men go into robot state to recharge and they must fully recharge before they are capable of bonding.

B) Approval and acknowledgment. But this doesn’t have to be as exhausting as it sounds. Think of the man as a robot. He only needs a straightforward acknowledgment of tasks completed and problems solved. “Thank you for taking out the trash.” No goo, no frills.

The most important mecret though is that men hate criticism. And they hear criticisms in statements which females would find loving. Because their core insecurity, is “Am I powerful? Am I capable? Am I being viewed as powerful and capable?” Females, on the other hand, are wondering “Am I lovable? Am I loved? Do I have care and support?”

For this reason, females love it if someone offers to help them. They share ideas and advice as a form of affection. They like being fussed over. Offering a man help, advice or fussiness, however, can easily be construed as an insult. You are telling him he is a pathetic little boy who can’t do anything right without mommy’s help.

So never offer to help men. Don’t give advice or suggestions, unless they ask. (When men DO ask for advice, however, this means they truly want it, whereas females may ask for advice when they are actually seeking care and affection.) And avoid criticism as much as humanly possible.

Now I’m still not 100% sure what you are supposed to do in cases where you are riding bucket seat in a car that a man is driving off a cliff. Is there some way you can suggest he turn left that won’t mortally offend him and cause him to press the accelerator harder? I can only hope multiple readings of this book will reveal the answers to me.

Still, the good news is- give less. Save your care for yourself. When you make yourself happy, that will make your man happy too, since he will take credit for your happiness. Likewise, when you are unhappy, men take credit for that. Hence, the expression of natural emotions like sadness and anger can be construed as insults by a man. Your tears may be telling him that he sucks as a husband and you wish you had married the neighbor.

This is the other tricky part. Females thrive on expressing the full range of emotions. If we emit happiness all the time, we become frayed and brittle. Negative emotions are our healing waters, where we go to regenerate. They give us depth and wisdom. But to men, they are threatening. And an insult to their competence as husband.

Women talk about negative feelings to heal and create bonds. Men don’t do this. If they express negative emotions, it means they are trying to attack or blame someone. So when they see women being negative, they feel attacked. And they counter-attack. Then women go into shock because they don’t understand why they are getting attacked when they were looking for love and bonding. Degeneration begins.

Now, the book says that if men can truly understand that expressing negative feelings is part of female nature- and not intended as an assault- they can gradually restrain their defensive impulses. They can learn to just listen and even say things like hmmmm, oh really? and tell me more. Then they discover that by simply listening, the female’s negative feelings magically transform into positive feelings, including love and appreciation for the listener. This gives men the sense of accomplishment they crave.

So the real challenge lies in convincing men not to be threatened by female style expression. How to do this though, when there is no chance men will read relationship books themselves? * I don’t know, but it must be done. Cause even if a female does everything right- gives space, appreciation, zero criticism etc- if she can’t express the full range of feelings there is no chance she will feel satisfied. She will either pop or fade away, and the man will be left with the very sense of failure he was trying to avoid.

A picture James took of his fingers. This is supposed to reveal something about his manhood. Isn’t it fascinating how we are basically living with a foreign species yet go through life imagining we inhabit the same reality?
Male and female. Living in happy harmony. (Slippers has a shaved leg since she had an operation for a sports injury. The truth is, I am afraid she got the injury from Patton humping her. Something for which I feel a lot of guilt. It was so easy to train Slippers that I didn’t realize what a challenge Patton would be. But I think he has been successfully trained out of this and she is recovering well.)

* I just read this to James and he said you could get men to do this by simply explaining it to them. However, you may need to be patient and remind them over and over that you only need them to listen until they are able to retrain their defensive reflexes.



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Charleston, West Virginia men Politics Uncategorized Writings

Heard Depp Trial

Ugh. This Depp/Heard trial is triggering me in too many ways. I don’t know where to begin.

1. It is scary that most people chanting “AMBER TURD!!!! AMBER TURD!!!!” know little to nothing about the facts of the case but are still eager to see Heard’s downfall.

People are acting like this is a pushback against #metoo when really it is the exact same thing. Someone makes a claim and ignorant monkeys go wild, chanting for blood. The fact that it is a man making a claim that a woman lied & abused him makes it no different. Same ole mob justice as before.

2. It is scary that Heard is on trial simply for writing a short op-ed stating that it is dangerous to oppose powerful men because they will make you pay. One in which Depp is not directly mentioned, nor abuse detailed.

In her words “Imagine a powerful man as a ship, like the Titanic. That ship is a huge enterprise. When it strikes an iceberg, there are a lot of people on board desperate to patch up holes — not because they believe in or even care about the ship, but because their own fates depend on the enterprise.”

So if Heard- who does in fact have a mountain of evidence to show Depp was violent- is not even allowed to make a passing mention of abuse and now owes Depp ten million for doing so- what does this mean for the rest of us? Are we allowed to speak about our lives or not?

This is a tricky subject because I realize people can lie and in most cases there is no way for bystanders to know the truth one way or another. But just as ‘believe all women’ does not seem like an appropriate solution ‘severely punish anyone who claims abuse’ doesn’t seem quite right either.

3. It is scary how people are using this to push the narrative “Women batter men all the time but the men are just too shy to come forward.”

In this corner of space time we currently inhabit, it would be very, very hard for almost any woman to batter her husband. I don’t know if people are ignorant as to physical differences between genders or simply feigning ignorance. Sometimes I wish men could be placed in cages with apes, left to fight them, and then tell me that strength does not matter when it comes to beating your spouse.

And it isn’t just strength, bone density, quicker reflexes etc- men are simply more aggressive & likely to commit violent crimes. Since this pattern holds true throughout all cultures and historical periods, we can safely assume it applies in the domestic realm as well. And I do not mean this in an insulting way, but simply assume it is a reflection of their role as warriors of the species.

What’s more, the idea that men are ‘too shy’ to come forward is ridiculous. Claiming to be the victim is the first move many abusive males make. I have read that most men claiming to be the victims of domestic violence are in fact the perpetrators themselves.


4. It is also annoying how people brush to the side that he was older, richer, more powerful, constantly on his own turf surrounded by employees, body guards & security staff. He was a king on his throne who could throw hissies as he wished. To accept that he was dominated by Heard- who was 22 when they met- seems close to believing that Clinton was sexually abused by that gold digging hussy Monica.

5. Heard is constantly being held to conflicting standards. When she videotapes Depp smashing things, that proves she is abusive. (Who would videotape their husband? She is obviously The Abuser!!) When she doesn’t, she is lying. (If this happened, why didn’t she record it? She is The Abuser!)

When she photographs bruises, she is guilty. (Who would do a photoshoot after being attacked? She is The Abuser!) When she doesn’t, she is guilty. (If he had hurt her, there would be photos! She is The Abuser!!!)

When she doesn’t cry her expressionless face proves she is the abuser. When she does cry her ‘fake’ tears prove she is the abuser. Literally whatever she does or doesn’t do becomes the evidence against her.

***


Men on social media keep asking why I care about this dumb trial. It is too petty to be worthy of serious consideration they say. But to me, it strikes at something core to the female experience. For men, dangers occur mostly in the public sphere where they can be seen, talked about and taken seriously. For women, dangers mostly occur behind closed doors, coming from people they love, whose reputations they are honor bound to protect. In a sense, females live much of their life in a veiled world which it is considered unseemly to discuss, for that would be “airing dirty laundry.”

And I don’t know what the solution is. People do need a private life and people to witness their dark side without exposing it to the world.

On the other hand, this arrangement frequently places women in danger which they are not allowed to talk about. They can’t seek support. (Unless they are willing to abandon their life & live like a refuge in a flea infested shelter.)

Not only are they deprived of the emotional comfort that comes from being able to share pain and stories, they are also unable to learn from each other’s experiences.

I’m always encouraging the females I know to write about their experiences with men and publish them. Anonymously if needed. The goal is not to take men down. But we desperately need more light to shine on how females experience life with men behind closed doors. I truly feel that more women sharing their stories could change the world. At least the world females inhabit. A world which may be too petty for men to even think about.




P.S. One more thing that bugs me about this trial is people freaking out about Heard admitting to slapping Depp. “She just admitted she was the abuser!” said a youtube lawyer. “Case closed!!!”

For starters- once again, in this physical reality a female hitting a male is pretty much a non-event. Females probably experience more pain than that during sex, unless the man’s dick is really small, yet we still manage to smile and enjoy ourselves.

Secondly, if displaying any bad behavior makes one “The Abuser” then we are all “The Abuser.” To me, domestic abuse refers to a pattern of using physical violence, threats, control of resources, etc to dominate your partner and place them in fear of you. It is crystal clear Heard did not hold this position relative to Depp.

And finally, I would like to say that I don’t really like words such as “The Abuser” and “Survivor.” Domination and abuse are somewhat woven into the fabric of life. Being on either side of this equation at a given point in time should not become one’s identity. “The Eater.” “The Eaten.” We are all of these things to some extent. I guess we have God to thank for that. I hope he knew what he was doing.







=

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Hurricane, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

Slippers

We met Slippers when we were living in a holler. It’s hard to describe how a place can be so dull and so colorful at the same time. Sort of like lifting a rock. First you only see brown then you realize there is life swirling everywhere. Strange creatures and you have no idea what they are doing.

In the world I grew up in, the meaning of life was clear- to be rich and important. But these aren’t the aims of life in a holler. I’m not sure I ever figured out what the aims were. But certainly not to climb a social ladder because such a ladder didn’t exist.

For starters, the majority of people were animals. And even the animals seemed rather stuffy and affected compared to the principle actor- Nature. Nature was top dog. He controlled plants, mountains, creeks and weather. Humans and animals were both second fiddle to him.

Perhaps this gave humans and animals more in common than they have in cities. At any rate, it didn’t feel much different walking down the street with a goat or a random child. Even the conversations were similar. All beings ran the gamut from deadly (copperheads & criminals) to unbearably cute. There were many involved in crime and many who appeared to have stepped right out of a story book. Sometimes they were the same people.

So on any day’s walk you would encounter chickens, goats, a sheep, children, at least one pedophile, horses, a pony and many many dogs. It was the dogs though who would accompany me up and down the road.

When I first met Slippers, her name was Nasty. She lived on the mountain’s side with a teeny dog named Banjo who was mean as anything. Even when Slippers reached 70 pounds, if 5 pound Banjo came after her she would lie on her back screaming while he tried to bite her and I ran around her immobilized body trying to kick him. Banjo’s owner was a 10 year old boy. He would try to kick Banjo as well but we never succeeded. He kept a long hunting knife in his top overall pocket with no sheath. It would keep falling out over and over again and he’d just pick it up and stick it back in.

I’m sorry I was trying to kick a dog but that’s just the way it was there. Little kids carried guns and shot birds. Pedophiles sat on their porch flirting with kids. Dogs raced cars in the street and sometimes lost in a big way. Kids tried to rob you and so did the adults. I was just one more animal trying to protect my own.

Dog ownership in the holler was not the same as suburban dog ownership. Dogs were considered more or less their own people and it was frequently ambiguous who they belonged to. Multiple houses might claim the same dog. They mostly lived outside and roamed freely. No fence, no leash. They ran the holler together in packs. One or more pack would accompany me on my walks. At first I was scared shitless of them. But soon they became the best friends I had. The only friends really.

There were the Peanuts, Bear, Jax, Jack, Lily, Toby, Nasty, Brownie and Dingleberry who would escort me through the holler. And then a few other dogs- like Banjo and Xena- who would just run down from their houses to attack. It was a world where you needed friends.

Eventually Nasty’s ownership transferred to another family though not much changed since she still ran with the pack. They renamed her Pretty Girl. I continued calling her Slippers which was the name I gave her when we first met because she seemed so refined to me.

Pretty Girl’s new family lived down by the creek which during floods would turn into a crazy river. A bridge crossed the creek leading to their house and when floods came the kids- about 3 and 6 years old- would be tied to the bridge so they could enjoy being tossed in the racing flood waters. Until one day the flood pulled the bridge away. After that it was just a couple of planks over a 12 foot drop. People in hollers are not very safety conscious. Pretty Girl’s new dad would stick his hand down a copperhead nest to show us the eggs and pull up poison ivy with bare hands.

So Pretty Girl played in the road like all the dogs did and one day she got hit by a car and couldn’t walk anymore. This was not an uncommon fate. Few dogs there were more than a couple years old. One day James was driving down a major road in the city and found traffic had been stopped because the dog pack had managed to leave the holler and was standing there in the middle of the road. Luckily they knew James and all hopped into his car and he drove them back home.

After getting injured Pretty Girl just rode around on the back of her owner’s tractor. One day James got a really bad feeling that her owner might decide to ‘put her down.’ Pretty Girl’s family foraged in the dumpster for their own food so they didn’t really have the resources for a dog, much less an injured one. He went to their house one night to ask if we could have her but the owner said she had just been picked up by a rescue group. She was given surgery and renamed Bailey. Eventually she went up for adoption so we adopted her and moved her back into the holler.

Her friends were glad she was back. Lily would come over and rap the door with her paw each afternoon wanting to play with her. They’d go out on the back porch and wrestle together. Until one day Lily got kidnapped. She had ‘prestige’ looks so she’d probably been sold for money. I knew who did it too, but didn’t say anything cause Lily probably wouldn’t have lived much longer if she stayed. Her owner went through one dog a year. His last pony had starved to death. People in the holler love getting new puppies and baby animals but once they become adults their incentive to keep them alive isn’t as great.

So now I’d walk Slippers on a leash while her old gang ran wild around her. Generally she didn’t mind except for when they’d spot a deer and then BAM the dogs would fly up that mountain wall and she’d scream to go with them. They didn’t have long to live but it wasn’t a bad life either.

In the holler the people are more like animals and animals are more like people.
Slippers greeting Jake. Just like Lily, he would sometimes knock on our door to say hi.
Jax following me through snow.
I miss him. It hurts to think about him actually.
The creek as it was receding from a flood. During rain storms it could get several feet deep above the road and you couldn’t get in or out of the holler.
The same creek not after a flood.
Nature was #1. Then Animals. Then Humans.
Two second class citizens hanging out in Plant World.
Goats say hi in the road. They ruled this part of the holler then further down the dogs’ turf began.

Some dog pack members. (Bear & Two Peanuts)
Dingleberry says hi.
Slipper’s home when she was Pretty Girl. Before the bridge got washed away. To the right, you see one of the Peanuts getting ready to race a car. Her passion. She died this way a few months later.

Saying hi to Peanut the pony.
Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Politics Uncategorized Writings

Practivizing

Apparently there is WAY more to running for office than sticking your name on a ballot. Just got a notification that I’m late in filing my Quarterly Finance Report. My WHA??? I don’t even have a bank account! Is there any chance you’ll accept an astrology report instead?

The good part is I’m getting a crash course in practical life skills. I now have a wallet. Containing two credit cards which I don’t know how to use. A phone-watch. Which I don’t know how to use. A personal identification card. I didn’t have this before and it made many things impossible. A few semi-normal outfits from Walmart. And some aquaintances that live in my city. Before I knew no one.

Feeling unpractical has been my greatest source of shame for so long. It made me afraid to interact with people cause I never knew when they would ask for my SK27 number and I would have no idea what they were talking about and then everyone would start laughing at me. And I didn’t know how deep everyone else’s practical skills went. How many forms do they fill out on a daily basis and how many bureaus do they visit? How many sequences of random numbers and letters are stored in their memory and what do they use them for? What cards do they make sure to have on them at all times and who do they show them to?

Even if blood is squirting from your ears it’s not like you can just walk into a hospital with a big wad of cash. You need cards. Papers. Letters. Numbers. Don’t know the square root of pi? “I’m sorry Ms. Aklei, but unless you can recite it to the 33rd digit there’s really nothing we can do. Our hands are tied.”

I don’t even feel confident in my ability to buy groceries. No matter how I position the card it is always the wrong position. Then pictures start flashing on the screen showing what you’re supposed to do but my brain goes into a panic and can’t compute. Then the sirens start going off. “STEP AWAY FROM THE BAGGING AREA!!! MA’AM!! STEP AWAY FROM THE BAGGING AREA NOW!!!! PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR PSYILISUS MUSCLES AND FACE EAST UNTIL AN ATTENDENT ARRIVES!!!!” Fuck, life is complicated. You gotta be so slick to survive.

But for some reason, I can’t even memorize my address. I don’t know why. I memorize songs all the time so I made my address into a little song about dicks but somehow it just slips in and out of my brain. But now I’m sure I will be asked my address constantly. Knowing your address is 50% of politics.

The other 50% is enemies.

I was confused at first because everyone I met seemed like the absolute nicest person of all time. And yet- after an initial period of exhileration- I was starting to have a mental & physical breakdown. I would just lie in bed crying all the time in a state of unbearable tension. I could hardly walk without a cane. I couldn’t write about this because public servants are supposed to be strong. I wanted to drop out so the torture would end but didn’t want to let anyone down.

James suggested my state could be caused by people messing with me. Psychically. Which annoyed me because the last thing you want when feeling overwhelmed is for someone to bring up the astral plane. But he pressed the issue until I finally lit a red candle and recited the 91st Psalm, a classic cure for enemies. And BAM! Just like magic I could walk again. I stopped crying and felt happy. And it occurred to me that most of the universe is currently transiting my House of Secret Enemies. Perhaps it is the case that in politics the majority of enemies are the secret kind.

Door knocking is still fun though and highly recommended. James goes with me. ‘Just be yourself’ he says. ‘Oh but don’t say that.’ ‘You didn’t tell them your name!.’ ‘You can’t make jokes about bribes Julien- you could go to jail!’ ‘Don’t use words relating to violence or murder- people might take you seriously!” It is funny how being taken seriously changes the meaning of what you say. I have never been taken seriously before.

My wallet with an ID inside & two crypto credit cards. I chose this wallet because I am preparing myself for Pluto’s movement into Aquarius which I need to write about ASAP to help people prepare.

I only use crypto money for the same reason. Well, that is also due to Uranus’s passage through Taurus. Obviously almost anything is superior to government controlled currency at this point.
Pansies, geraniums & a gardenia brought inside due to frost. Since my political messaging consists mostly of flowers, I need to have plenty at my own house to avoid seeming like a hypocrite.
I love yellow. My initial theory was that the left went insane due to an insufficient supply of positive yellow in their life.
Poppies, forget me nots, canterbury bells & larkspurs.
Patton preparing to eat the cardboard. I promise I clean but Patton is constantly shredding things so it never looks like it.
Pausing for a manspread.

Categories
Astrology Uncategorized Writings Yellow, Gold, Kings, Fathers, and the Sun

White, Black & Gold



Time divides all things into white, black & gold.

White is the beginning. Life has a solid structure. Ideals are clear & shining. There is a road that leads to the place one is going. Life is pure. You look ahead of you and see that things will stay pure forever. You are a good person.

Black is the middle. Nothing makes sense anymore. There are roads, but they are tangled up and none of them lead anywhere. None of them are pure. Your moral structures, your ideals, none of them shed any light on the choices confronting you. You are lost and forced to choose between poisons as you wander in circles.

Gold is the end. The road did lead somewhere after all. Now you look back. You can see the meaning of the black and of the white. Your journey is over but you have gained something you will keep forever. What began as idealism has turned into wisdom. Wisdom is the place where ideals and reality meet. You will take this wisdom with you to your new beginning, when you go back to the white and start to dream again.

These three phases exist in all things and circulate through our lives on a micro and macro level. All three phases must happen for evolution to occur.

But sometimes people get stuck in the white. They don’t want to leave purity behind to wander in the muck. You see this in Christians and Romantics.

Christians try to control their beliefs, their thoughts, their emotions, their actions, their sexuality. They believe that if they entered the black there would be no end to it- nothing on the other side. They don’t want to leave the purity. Sometimes they choose death over dirty hands, believing they will go to heaven this way but they won’t. Because heaven is gold. Unless you wander in the darkness you will never get there. You will simply be reborn right where you left off, in white- the world of beginnings.

Romantics are the same. They love the purity of a love that is shiny and new but shrink in horror from a love that has been touched by shit and grime. But this cannot be. Nothing can live in the white world for long. There is no sustenance there. We get our food from killing and money from playing games. We deceive and destroy to survive. If we are unwilling to do the dark deeds ourselves we attach to those who will do them for us. Then they touch us with their dirty hands. Nothing can stay clean, not even love. Not if it wants to live.

But the Romantic cannot bear this. They discard their tarnished penny and search for a shiny new one. They are trapped in white. The world of endless repetition.

There are dangers in the black world as well. In the white world, we were guided by belief structures. When these crack and we are wandering directionless, it is tempting to reach for darker beliefs. But this isn’t the time to build new mental structures because they will only reflect our pain, not the truth. In the dark world all roads are twisted. You see only a few feet ahead of you. You have to keep struggling, fighting, digging. This is no time to make sense of it all. You have no distance. And if you allow dark structures to be erected in your mind these can keep you trapped in the dark world forever. That is hell.

Gold has dangers too. You don’t want to reach it prematurely. Gold is the harvest- once you reach it, the time for growth is over. Think of artists struggling to create under the weight of being star, icon & hero. Think of the person so dignified they can hardly move. Gold is a fixative. The journey has ended and now it is safe to sit in comfort and extract the lessons from all that has happened. But until enough experiences have taken place there will not be much wisdom to extract.

Another danger is to skip to the gold phase altogether. To start a war, to fight it, then immediately to start the next one. There has to be a pause. A time when you look backwards to process all that has happened. Now the game has ended and you can see how all the pieces fit together. What was worthwhile & what wasn’t? When a person actively sifts through their experiences, their next new beginning will start at a higher level than before. Gold causes us to ascend. It forms the stairway to heaven.

Categories
men My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

I am a Good Wife

Conventional wisdom always encourages people to be vulnerable, open & honest. But I struggle with the reverse- the feeling that it isn’t okay to withhold & keep thoughts to myself.

Especially in marriage. James wants me to tell him everything & says it is damaging if I don’t. Which is great in theory, since I have the desire to share all my thoughts & feelings. But in reality it doesn’t work out so well. Frequently he will get angry about my thoughts or tell me why they are incorrect & then I am forced to go through an endless wrangling process trying to defend them. The process is confusing & doesn’t end until I have either accepted his replacement thoughts or am too tangled up to function anymore.

Now to someone else this might be no problem. They would just share what they wanted to share and keep the rest to themselves. But I have this compulsive feeling that my perceptions must be validated by another person before I can trust them. I can hardly be certain the sky is blue without first asking someone. And I also have this compulsive feeling that I must obey James. I can’t withhold information unless he gives me permission to do so, regardless of how much confusion & discomfort sharing may cause. Basically I don’t trust my own mind & have no will of my own.

I guess this traces back to when I was a teenager & my first husband was my spiritual guide & I needed to tell him absolutely everything so he could remove my ego, realign my thinking & enable me to achieve enlightenment. The process involved lots of screaming & public humiliation, including sexual, since these are the most tried & true methods of ego removal. Since then, I have never been able to regain that feeling of trusting my own mind and feeling that I am my own master. I don’t even know how to explain it to people who take having their own mind and will for granted.

I am trying very hard to put these boundaries back in place but it is a struggle. I don’t feel I have the right to make choices for myself without asking someone else’s permission and am scared of what will happen if I do.

My husband likes control. I don’t mean this as a bad thing and maybe it is even a quality I admire. But one rule of our relationship is that he is allowed to make decisions while I am not. He can decide what to do with money- and spend enormous sums- without consulting me. I cannot access money without consulting him and telling him what I wish to buy. The flip side is that he is much more financially generous with me than he is with himself. Generally he will get me whatever I want- even if it is frivolous or wasteful- while being stingy with himself. And this same pattern applies to all aspects of our relationships. If I want something & it is within his power to give it to me, he probably will. But I am not allowed to make decisions without consulting him, whereas he is allowed to make decisions without consulting me.

I am supposed to trust him. But he isn’t supposed to trust me. I am deemed incapable of making any significant decisions even if they impact no one but myself. As an example, I want to see a shrink & there is one nearby I can see for free. Not because I am looking for guidance, I just want the experience of talking to a human without feeling it is such a struggle to get my thoughts out and have them heard and accepted. I just want to experience something new- the feeling of noncombative communication.

But James is against this. So what are my choices? Try to change his mind? Trying to convince James of anything is impossible. The certain outcome is that I will end up adopting his perspectives because anything else becomes too unpleasant. I could go behind his back, but that would violate my compulsive need to be transparent with him. So the only real option is to tell myself it isn’t a good idea anyway.

The official justification for obeying him is that he is more grounded than me and makes better choices. (I should add here that I am sometimes allowed to make choices- it is just that he decides which choices I am or am not allowed to make.) But the truth is I am just scared of what will happen if I don’t obey him. I am afraid he will find a way of punishing me or else stop loving me which is a punishment itself. Any time I attempt to assert my will it turns into a horrible fight from which it can take me a long time to recover.

I feel like everyone reading this will think either A) Holy shit you are a dumbass or B) Wow, what a horrible wife writing something which could cast her husband in a bad light.

And I have no defense against being a dumbass. I am a fucking dumbass and I live this every day. But I am not a bad wife.

The other day I told James I was suffering from having no one to talk to, that I couldn’t be real with anyone or even on my blog. He said, “Why not? You can write whatever you want.” I said, ” Well I’m worried that you won’t like it.” He said “Just try it and find out- it will be fine. You’ll see. Trust me.”

So I am trying it. And trusting him. Just like he told me to do. I am a good wife.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Uncategorized

Lie Down

And the shine
Is the thing you will remember
For the longest time
Down the line

Like the sky
How it fell on you as dark sheets
When the stars were high
They would fly

Open nights stretch out before you
Open roads lay down before you
You were there
Going everywhere

Lie down
You are sleepy
It’s all over now
You are bleeding

Lie down
You can see me
Let your hair fall round & round
We are leaving

And the time
Is the thing you will remember
When the stars are high
It could fly

Like the men
How they reach out with their flat hands
Till the day begins
They were friends

Open hands stretch out before you
All the ones who came before you
You were there
Going everywhere

Lie down
You are sleepy
It’s all over now
You are bleeding

Lie down
You can see me
Let your hair fall round & round
We are leaving

All the trees that stood like strangers
Shadows blacking out the dangers
You were there
Going everywhere

Lie down
You are sleepy
It’s all over now
You are bleeding

Lie down
You can see me
Let your hair fall round and round
We are leaving.

Lie DownDownload
Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

What is a dick?

Please forgive me if I make no sense. Right now the whole universe is bombarding my mercury- aka brain- and it has sped thought processes to where I can hardly function. Zillions of thoughts colliding into each other & all of them breaking into fragments. This will last a couple more years.

I can still write songs in this state, but songs come out like eggs. You have to let the emotional energy congeal again before laying the next one. In the meantime, there is still too much I need to express. Plus I am so alone & this blog is my closest friend.

So I am barfing out thoughtlets. To release them from my mind.

One strange thing about my mind is how it seems to have different pieces which live side by side, unknown to one another. I would notice this at school when I would get perfect scores on tests which- as far as I knew- I knew nothing about. Subjects like advanced math & science where you can’t fake it. Also, everything related to sex.

As a teen the last thing in the world I wanted was to be associated with sex or even being female. This could partially explain why I changed my name to Julian.

Buying female products was my worst nightmare. I would go to the store in disguise & wait til there were no people around. Later the products would be stored in a box hidden behind a dresser in a closet. I invented multiple codes for writing in my journal so that I could write in double code (a code within a code). But this wasn’t enough, so when they were finished my beautiful journals would have to be ripped to pieces and then burned. What was I writing about? Boys. Liking them was the most secretive & humiliating thing imaginable.


At the same time, however, I was- unknown to myself- constantly broadcasting sexual things in an inappropriate way. It was only many years later that the constant explicit nature of my actions became clear to me.

There was the way I would eat bananas in front of younger teenage boys. They would always ask me to eat them over and over again which I was happy to do since I brought 2 bananas with me to school every day. There was the time I plastered the school with a poem about 2 soft squishy balls which a man liked to play with. I really thought it was a poem about favorite toys and was bewildered by how people would crack up. There was my final art project at university which I thought was a tree, but in retrospect was a realistic picture of a dick sliding through a hole. There were the poems I wrote about people coming all over things and the look on the teachers faces when they read them. The times I would jump up on tables and start doing pelvic thrusts at family get togethers. Passing people notes that said “Do you want to make love?” Painting pictures of soldiers have sex with their dads and writing songs which (in retrospect) were obviously about people getting raped but at the time I thought they were songs about colors.

In my mind, almost everything was a color or a feeling. The literal meanings of things did not compute. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anyone to believe this because it doesn’t even make sense to me. How can someone know something and not know something at the same time?


I don’t know.

The End.