Category: Uncategorized

Categories
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.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

Being Different People

Ned- the first born of the 5 giants.

Husband 1, in a past life, belonged to a race known as the Wise Ones. Wise Ones lived in lavish castles. They did not work. The vibration of their souls attracted great wealth to them. When Wise Ones incarnate on the earth plane however, they struggle to survive without the riches their soul is accustomed to. This can lead to depression and even heart failure.

Sometimes husband would lie on the floor with his hands on his chest, struggling to breath, too heavy for this world. The only thing that could save him was millions of dollars.

It seemed unlikely he could earn the money himself. Years of job aptitude tests had uncovered only two potential career options- wine tasting & boob feeling. I tried to find him a job in the boob feeling industry but massage therapy was too demanding. He got a job in a wine store but they only paid minimum wage.

I painted, wrote songs & made a little money but not enough to support us much less give him the lifestyle he deserved. Then he read a book on channeling and decided that I could channel information on how we could manifest millions of dollars straight from the ethers.

I didn’t feel great about this. Becoming a hollow tube for other beings to speak through wasn’t my cup of tea and I didn’t think I could do it anyway. But he needed millions of dollars within the next few months and I didn’t have a better idea.

So…. to make a long story short, I channeled that we should rename our apartment Archimedian Estates and paint everything inside it pink, gold & black. And we needed to fill it with 100 species of plants & a pet from each animal kingdom. This would make us millionaires.

A couple months later, the whole place was pink, black and gold. We had 26 plants, one snake, two birds, a fish and an eviction notice. Far from being millionaires, husband was now hitting up my friends and family for money- a humiliating fate. We separated then. I felt maybe, just maybe, I could eke out an existence alone, but there was no way in hell I could support a Wise One. They need all of life’s finest things just to survive.

The world was harder than I imagined though and a year later we were back together. The need for channeling picked up. Could I channel Mary, Archangel Michael, the Moon, the spirit of Fame? It made my head feel weird. But if I objected he would say “Hang on- I need to ask Auriel about this!” He yelled at me constantly but never at the other beings. Sometimes I would switch into them just as a safe spot.

Channeling snowballed fast. Before long Julien had been pushed out altogether and replaced by an ever growing cast of characters. It was no longer about channeling advice either. Now it was about him connecting to different women who were his wives and all these different humanoids who were his children.

His children included 5 giants- Brownie, Big Stuff, Ned, Ted & Fred. 1,000 genies called ‘the Hectors.’ And various others such as Sweet Cookie, Shelley, Fufu, Hunkdehunk, Sweetsie & Cherry Lemonade Spritz.

His wives are harder to remember but included Clementine, Ambrosia, Auriel & Earth. He would have sex with them. In general he preferred a different type of female than me- the Strong Business Woman. His wives were closer to this ideal. They even had different bodies.

I don’t know how long the period lasted in which I was continuously other people. Maybe 5 years. During this time husband got a job at Target. I would stay home reading books on magic & trying to do impossible things. Home was various places, like motels in the middle of deserts. Basements on the outskirts of Brooklyn.

I no longer ate normal food but subsisted on weird things like Chuckles & Jello. I liked these foods because they resembled the jell loafs Auriel ate in her world. I didn’t have normal clothes either. At one point the only thing I had to wear was a little girl’s cheerleading skirt he brought me home from Target & a teddy bear sweater (a sweater made for a teddy bear) which I wore as a hat.

Sometimes I would write songs but mostly I was plagued by weird fears, like my legs falling off. Unresolvable mental dilemmas would torture me for days like whether my soul smelled more like rose or ylang ylang. I would prank call people or send them weird letters & they would think I was scary.

I knew I had fallen out of step with society & felt ashamed but couldn’t find my way back. The only person I spoke with was my husband but he didn’t speak to me, just through me to his wives and children. I could no longer choose to not channel them since that would mean separating a man from his entire family, an inhumane act by any standards. They seemed to bring him joy.

And to this day I struggle with dissociative identity disorder. Maybe. But I don’t know if this is related to the time I spent being other people or not.

The End

Shelley. She had a soft jelly-like yellow body & rode in a wheelchair since her body was too soft. She wore a football helmet on her head and kept covered up in a blanket since she got so cold. She loved math & her pet fish. Sometimes I miss these friends & feel sad they are fading from my imagination.
Sweet Cookie who has two very wise pet squirrels- Nimrod & Noodleface. They have all sorts of special knowledge.



Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Politics Uncategorized Writings

Time to Reconsider Virtues

As I’ve said before, I believe virtues are- quite literally- the stars in the sky. They are guiding lights. Each person has unique virtues which are a part of their soul and stay relevant throughout their life. Other virtues must be picked up or discarded as the situation requires. They guide us for a while, but then we must turn in a new direction.

Group minds always align with specific virtues and these virtues become synonymous with goodness itself. These virtues may be very effective in a certain time and place. But circumstances always change until the virtues people cling to- the ones which give them a sense of identity and goodness- become the source of their undoing.

These past years for me have really been about the need to embrace virtues I previously rejected. Now that our society is staring down the barrel of a gun, I wonder if many are having that same experience. So many of the qualities we have seen as wholesome- politeness, smiles, harmony, empathy, minding your own business, seeing the best in others- work really well in times of peace. But not so much when you have enemies who are trying to kill you.

Conservative women especially tend to embrace values which work well when everything is running smoothly, but are less effective in guerrilla warfare. Group values are always polarized against some other group- real or fictional- who is seen as their antithesis. For conservative women, this is feminists.

Feminists are angry, shrill and chaotic. They want to compete with men, destroy men, even BE men. When conservative women consider how much they AREN’T like feminists they get a small jolt of pleasure in their brain, just as we all do while admiring ourselves. “Why are they so angry? I think men are wonderful! I don’t want to compete with men. I love being a woman!” Conservative men will sometimes reinforce this by casting these (mostly mythical) feminists as women who are embroiled in bitterness due to not being sexy enough to attract a man.

But none of this has anything to do with feminists. It is just a masturbatory technique used by all group minds to reinforce their chosen virtues. The real message- if you get angry and hysterical, if you OBJECT to things- then you are ugly and will no longer be deserving of the group’s love and protection.

All these conservative values work well in times of peace and prosperity when it makes sense to discourage people from rocking the boat.
But they are no longer working. We have watched for years as the liberal forces erode everything conservatives were wanting to conserve and they just stand there helpless, dick in hand. They hope a great leader will come save them. They talk about how wrong it all is. But they can do nothing to stop it. Their cherished virtues are completely impotent against the situation. They just stand there on a sinking ship like lily white virgins.

In general, the values conservatives previously embraced were earthy ones- meant to maintain stability. The ones we need now are fiery. To throw a fit and stand up for ourselves. The time of Aries, God of War, is soon arriving and whichever people are first to adopt his pugnacious attitude are likely to come out on top.

We can see from the election of Trump that conservatives are open to the possibility that something fiery & obnoxious could be appropriate. But are they willing to pick up that torch themselves? Or are they only willing to let someone else do their dirty deeds for them while they stand watching, dicks in hand, lily white virgins?

I think it is doubly important that conservative women reconsider their virtues. Why? Because men are the heavy lifters of humanity and women are its leading edge. They perceive problems before men do and have the ability to nip them in the bud while men are still sleeping. Conservative women frequently pride themselves on following the lead of men. In times of crisis this is not a good idea. We pick up on things before they do. By the time men rise up things will have already gone too far, making the world a scary place for women.

I consider our shrill shrieking voices to be the alarm system of the human race. Sometimes an alarm is all you need to scare the bad guys away. And I believe the thing holding females back from this is an intense attachment to certain virtues and strong negative association with fiery ones. We want to be the lovable woman. Not the screeching harpy. If we screech it means we are ugly. No one can love us.

So here are just a few values for conservative women to consider embracing.

1. Anger & hatred. Scrunching up your face to scream at the top of your lungs. What is wrong with this? Doesn’t Jesus throw hissy fits throughout the Bible? Doesn’t God?

The aversion to anger is not based in spirituality, but reflects the fact that in times of peace, anger tends to be more destructive than useful. Hence it gets discouraged.

In times of war, however, anger & hatred are fiery rivers of power that energize you to express your love for your people. They embolden you to take actions that matter. A person incapable of anger & hatred cannot have any strong love. Nor can they get a boner. You won’t believe me now, but one day you will realize anger & hatred are the river of fire from which boners flow. Boners are anger turned into a generative force. Without them, love is flaccid.

2. Drama. Why do people hate drama? In astrology, drama is ruled by the sun which is the energy source of our entire world. How many popular movements changed the world without drama? Zero.

Once again, our aversion to putting three extra scoops of drama on everything just reflects the needs of a society at peace. Don’t rock the boat or stir the waves. But when you have a ginormous enemy coming to kill you, well then you do want to stir the waves & raise the energy of the opposition to the highest level possible. And that is what drama is- heightened energy. Adding more energy, color, visibility, and emotion. Conservative women need to wipe the pale gray oatmeal from their face and give drama a whirl. Put some ginger back in their swagger.

3. Pettiness. Especially when it comes to women, the value of pettiness cannot be overstated. One of our main contributions to the human race is that we see problems before men do- while they are still small & able to be changed. A lack of pettiness makes you overlook problems and suppress natural responses until situations become serious. Once things are really bad then you can react without being a petty person. But by that point it is frequently too late to change anything.

Still we are encouraged to not be over reactive but instead to let small things slide off our backs. Yet again, a trait that is socially valuable in maintaining peace.

But when someone is trying to kill you, largess is not your friend. You need to notice the tiny infringements on your boundaries and be more reactive. Why not punch a bully the first time he crosses you rather than wait until he kills three of you friends? In war, you may only get one chance to see a problem and respond. Then it’s over.

***

So put anger, hatred, drama, & pettiness together & what do you get? Sounds a lot like liberals, right? And look who is winning- they are.

“Good things don’t come to those who wait. They come to those who agitate.” – Julian Bond

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Uncategorized Yellow, Gold, Kings, Fathers, and the Sun

The Bird King

This song was from a dream. Mostly at the moment I only write songs when I hear them in dreams which can be annoying because I don’t always want to wake up. But I usually do, just in case there is some meaning behind it.

A bigger problem though is that dream songs have some added dimension that can’t be captured…. kind of like they are being sung from all directions at once- or there is some kind of harmony but not any harmony that can be replicated…. it is just like there is an additional dimension somehow that creates a feeling of infinite spaciousness, but when you wake up that dimension is gone & all you can write down are the melody and words. I suppose you could try to replicate that other quality with a children’s choir & orchestra, but I am lactose intolerant.

Take a step into the silence
Smell the air- the scent of violence
To close your eyes & tell us all what you see.

A single bird on the tallest tree now
From all directions a harmony
Somehow I know- we must follow his lead.

‘Yes I flew up to the tallest tree
O do you see me there? Hellow it’s me-
I have been watching you
I am the reason you cried.

I alone am the crown of kings
I am the god of birds and little things
You oughtta know by now
I’ll be the reason you die.

I fell down.
I was saved.
I was thrown.
In a pauper’s grave.’

Wading now into the water
Oh my god, are you my father?
A little boy crying there at your feet.

The waters clear & the pictures come now
From all directions the boys will drum now
A sea of men blowing into the creek.

‘Look again into the tallest tree
And you will see me there- bow to me
I have been watching you
I am the reason you cried.

I alone am the crown of kings
I am the god of birds and little things
You oughtta know by now
I’ll be the reason you fly.

I fell down.
I was saved.
I was thrown.
In a pauper’s grave.

The Bird KingDownload