Category: My Life Story

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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

The End to Abuse

I’ve been trying to figure out why I always end up in abusive situations. As a single woman, I must change this to survive. And it’s not just romantic relationships- I tend to end up scapegoated, bullied, slandered etc almost everywhere I go.

It was puzzling to me, because I’m more or less a nice person. Definitely nicer than those that bully me. I thought maybe it was because I was too outspoken. But about half my life I’ve been quieter than a mouse and that didn’t help- the pattern continued. I thought maybe it was because people found me eccentric, but then again there are plenty of eccentric people who don’t get bullied- many are bullies themselves. So I decided that couldn’t be the reason either.

But luckily I found the answer.

Basically, humans approach relationships either through their solar plexus, heart, or ideally a combination of both.

The solar plexus is our stomach and our ego. The part of us that thinks- What about ME?! What’s good for me? What are you offering me? What do I want? How did I get to be so awesome?

At best it motivates us to express ourselves through meaningful work, building self-esteem in the process. But meaningful work alone does not satisfy the ego. It needs to be acknowledged and valued by the world, treated well and seen for what it is (minus the bad things.)

The ego also gives us our intellectual strength. It is rational, but since it cares so much about winning and being wonderful, it frequently warps rationality into rationalization to convince us of our own superiority & blamelessness. The ego projects the negative onto others & the positive onto ourselves. It is our biggest cheerleader.

The heart is the reverse. It projects positive energy onto others and sees their value. It causes us to feel pain and shame if we trespass against them. It seems the world through the lens of relationships. Others are so wonderful, in the eyes of the heart, that life without them feels empty. The heart feels longing and loneliness.

The heart’s focus is to benefit others and maintain our connection with them. This gives the heart pleasure. It processes their needs and issues. It wants to understand and to help.

In the absence of hearts, relationships are about what you can get from the other person- sex, money, laundry, an ego boost? The second you feel you are giving more than you are receiving, you are gone. Because this translates to the solar plexus as losing. Which it hates most of all.

To the heart, service is lightness and joy. It feels like flying. But to the solar plexus, serving someone else is torture. What am I getting out of this? Resentment builds and is suppressed, because the solar plexus realizes resentment is not an attractive trait and it wants to be seen in a good light. The solar plexus realizes it must feign heart qualities to seem admirable.

The solar plexus/heart divide pretty much lines up with ideas of avoidant vs. anxious attachment which are currently trending. To the anxious/heart person relationships are everything. They will be more anxious about someone losing interest in them than they would be about losing their home. Because the heart is detached from concerns like survival. It might find dying for love quite romantic.

And though big hearts make a person caring, this care can feel icky or smothering to those on the receiving end. Some people just want to live their life without knowing how much you love them. And if those on the receiving end have little or no heart themselves, they will likely interpret the caring as coercive rather than a cute but annoying excess of heart juice.

Meanwhile the avoidant/solar plexus partner can seem more like a narcissist because they are mostly thinking about themselves. In the absence of a working heart what else can they think about? They may be a good person and have a strong sense of ethics but they lack the mechanisms which cause us to feel pleasure from putting others first. Even if they know they should want to give, they experience it as a loss.

The ego experiences envy- worrying that another person is better than us. The heart experiences jealousy- worrying that someone is threatening our relationship. Solar plexus people don’t understand jealousy and tend to demonize it. Perhaps they would miss the relationship if it disappeared but they can’t access those feelings easily like the heart person can. They have trouble accessing tears as well, unless they are tears of frustration or manipulation. Tears also live in the heart.

Heart people tend to have trouble accessing anger. They come up with more and more reasons for a loved one’s atrocious behavior- a horrible childhood, a delicate nature- and end up showering even MORE love on the people who hurt them.

Most commonly, men seem to be with ones with bloated stomachs/egos and trouble accessing their heart. Women tend to be the ones with bloated hearts who can’t access their ego.

Once your heart gets bloated enough & your solar plexus sufficiently shriveled, you are certain to be a permanent victim. How can it be otherwise? You lack all the emotions, thoughts, triggers, motivations & intelligences that cause people to stand up for themselves.

When someone purposefully stomps on your foot no outrage fires in your mind. You wonder what you did wrong and how you can make it better. Maybe you would want to step on the gas, but the gas peddle just isn’t there.

So you see, the cure to being a victim is simply to discover your ego and- like a withered plant- bring it back to life.

Stay tuned and I will tell you how it’s done!

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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Writings

Healing

I’ve been too scared to blog for a while because I’ve entered a new phase of my journey- healing.

Healing- after survival & stabilization- is the second phase in recovering from prolonged trauma- such as war or domestic battery.

I fear anyone reading this will be throwing up in their mouths right now because…

A) The very concept of healing sounds self-indulgent, almost narcissistic. What do you need to heal from you stupid bitch? It’s life, get over it.

B) I just compared domestic battery to war. I fear people will resent that because domestic violence has become something of a joke. My personal opinion (trigger alert) is that it became a joke when there was a push to redefine it as genderless crime & people like Johnny Depp bravely declared themselves battered men because they got slapped in the face after trashing their girlfriend’s bedroom. The word became “Violence is bad and any form of angry physical contact is violence.” I’ve heard people say that throwing a q-tip & holding a gun to someone’s head are equally bad cause “It’s all violence.”

But to me it isn’t. Violence is something which causes or threatens to cause grave bodily harm or death. Domestic violence means living in a state of terror, confusion & subjugation. Living in an environment where you are afraid someone will hurt or kill you and you don’t know how to leave. But rather than fight, you try harder and harder to please. Your mind separates into two pieces. One piece knows you must get away. This one starts out as a tiny dot which grows imperceptibly each time the violations are severe. The other piece is a wife trying more and more desperately to please her husband. This piece is unaware she is afraid of him, she is just so desperate to please.

Once you leave- IF you manage to leave- and IF you find a reasonably healthy way to survive- you have two tasks:

  1. You must somehow leave the state of constant terror/anxiety/desperation/chaos because in this state you cannot think clearly or make good decisions. But it is hard to do when this has become your normal setting.
  2. You have to unfuck your mind. Change how you think & make sense of life. Because if you don’t, someone will refuck you.

Perhaps if a previously healthy person was in a bad relationship for a few years it might be somewhat straightforward to return to the person they were before. But I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t terrified and trying to please, where my mind wasn’t divided into separate streams of memory- one stream containing all the good, the other containing the bad, and both streams unaware of each other.

I don’t understand why I always end up in these situations. I am sure it is something I’m doing… but what?

This is why I’ve taking some time to heal and enter a victim phase. I like the word victim because it is taboo. Everyone is so worried you will see yourself as a victim and take on a victim identity. Maybe I will use my victim card to get free cookies and shoulder massages from hard working people. People are concerned you that you will love being a victim so much you will make it your permanent identity.

But the thing is…. Those who continually wind up victimized DON’T see themselves as victims. That is part of the problem. Someone can drag them out of bed by their feet drop them on their head, kick them then spit in their ear and they feel this is a normal interaction between consenting adults. The inability to acknowledge when they are being victimized allows the cycle to continue. 

These people are terrified to see someone else as bad. Because they have learned that this is dangerous. Even if you were to secretly acknowledge to yourself that someone else’s behavior is wrong, it could be dangerous. Because you would instinctively start to rebel. To stand up for yourself. Then things get worse. The way to be safe is to not see what is happening. Eventually you are so upside down its hard to know what is normal anymore because you just don’t have any reference points.

Good boundaries don’t magically stop a person from being victimized. I’m sure there were plenty of holocaust victims with great boundaries- at least before the horror began. But the violence & lack of power begin to break your boundaries down. You start to learn that self-assertion doesn’t serve you. You try to be small, bland and compliant.

But once you re-emerge from an abusive situation, your concentration camp boundaries DO make you more vulnerable. Plus you are desensitized to being mistreated. Red flags don’t trigger you like they should.

In domestic situations, you learned to try and love the danger away. You may instinctively dole out care in exchange for pain. You know how to be tiny & flexible with low standards & no needs, attracting those who want to use you. You’ve lost confidence in your own perceptions. You are afraid to negatively judge anyone’s behavior because flattery and idealization make you feel safe.

So I’m trying to rewire myself. Because I want to be a useful and productive member of this world. I am trying to understand how I came to be wired up like a victim, but mostly what I can do to change it. 

I’ve learned a few wisdoms so far….To avoid those who insult, degrade or neg me. To avoid those who criticize or yell incessantly. To avoid those who talk nonstop about themselves and show no interest in me.

I’ve also realized I should stop consuming content that hurts and degrades women. Like podcasts where men vomit all over your sense of reality until you don’t feel good about life. And I must stop talking to myself harshly. A big part of healing seems to be learning to treat yourself how you want to be treated. This starts to normalize an uplifting vibe causing things which bring you low to register as repulsive.

I’ve also learned that I must use my rational mind more when making decisions. I can see that in the past I mostly made decisions driven by guilt, pity, fear, loneliness, pain, compulsion & hunger for love. Trying to move in the direction that would end the pain. Instead, you are supposed to turn on your brain and ask it, “What course of action is most likely to promote my long-term happiness?”

I think though that this healing process has made me more sensitive. I feel more hesitant to share things because being pelted with criticism and hatred doesn’t feel as palatable as it used to. I once prided myself on being immune to negative feedback. It felt like a massage. Now I just want to be in a safe place.

I’ve been making signs of all the wise things I learn to hang around my apartment.
I’ve also been doing art therapy, which I thought would be the dumbest thing ever, but I’m finding it transformative. These are my three animal totems- hummingbird, rabbit & whale who represent creativity, love & magic, not respectively.
I want my apartment to be filled with all things flower. I am looking for a vibrant, almost third world vibe filled with my own creativity. For a long time, I did not want to be surrounded by anything I had a hand in creating. I wanted things to be delicate & refined. But I’m trying to bring the colors back into my body.
Fur Therapy.
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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

The Plane of Survival

Ever since I left my husband, until recently, I’d been living on this plane- the Plane of Survival.

I was in shock, struggling to survive, not sure if I could, and everything I did, thought and felt was through a survival lens.

I read once that people struggling to survive do not get depressed, nor do they experience existential dread, because they know life has a meaning- to catch that slice of pizza before it slides down the drain.

Every day is a quest to live and when you succeed, that is meaning.

On the plane of survival you are wired with extra energy. Feelings are suppressed. Vision narrows. You can run like an antelope. You have springs in your feet. You are twice as strong as you were before.

You see relationships through a different lens. Does this person make me safer? This isn’t a gold digger wanting to get rich, because wealth and luxury don’t exist yet. Nor does status. You just want to know, will they feed me? Would they be there for me if I needed them? If not, the law of the jungle commands you invest yourself elsewhere.

On the Survival plane, I was Slipper’s drill sargeant. ‘March Slippers, march!!!’ I would shout as I drug her through the streets crying. ‘If we don’t get there in 5 minutes, do you realize we could lose our home?!’ I didn’t care how deranged I looked to other people. Dignity is the first thing thrown off a sinking ship. Once you let it go you realize it was 80% of your body weight. At any rate, the more frazzled and distraught I looked, the more likely random strangers would be to offer me a sandwich. When you truly are desperate, looking desperate can be a good thing.

If you meet a person on the Plane of Survival, give them something. They aren’t a mooch, they are actually in need and there’s a big difference. There are many ways people can reach this plane and we all pass through it eventually. But please, don’t give them a pep talk or philosophical lecture. In this state you have the mind of a dog and words don’t mean a thing. Give them a sandwich, a blanket, a $20 bill. Or more if you are one of the Angels of this Plane. These angels were the best part. I had no idea how kind people were before living here.

The other good part is this world’s briskness. You become bolder, braver, more invigorated than you ever were before. Because you can’t afford to hide away in your safe and calcified world. It doesn’t exist anymore. Every day becomes an adventure.

But it’s also a dangerous time, because you will latch onto ANYTHING that seems to offer safety, regardless of its long term impact. It’s not a state where you can make constructive decisions about your future. The future and past don’t exist. There is an alarm going off and you need to stop it.

And so you also meet bad people, due to your low standards and desperation. If there is no clear path before you, becoming a criminal is likely. You don’t have the brain space to dream up some brilliant plan forward. You are disconnected- internally & externally- from things uplifting.

I think what people need in this state is social support. If the focus is put on them being self-reliant at a moment when they are drowning, their actions are likely to be destructive to themselves or others. It is easier to become a Contributing Member of Society once a siren is no longer going off in your head.

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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Yellow, Gold, Kings, Fathers, and the Sun

Cry Alone

How you do now baby?
You a good good baby.
Climb upon my airplane
So much world to see now baby.

Where the sunbeams sway
I drew the cards I saw us play
You were the one for me I saw us high
Hand in hand in that sky.

If you smile now baby give you this big bone
But if you cry you cry alone

Watch the windows chatter
See the rain go splitter splatter
Has it been this way forever?
You tell me it doesnt matter.

You say the past is gone
The future is a big unknown
And all we have is just one second
Right with me where you belong.

You told me how smile and dream
I told myself I’d never scream
I told myself I wouldn’t cry
But still I cry at everything…

If you smile now baby give you this big bone
But if you cry you cry alone

From the day you born
You work your fingers to the bone
So how can I stand there before you
Asking you where you belong?

You know the future’s just a lie
The past is best left there to die
So how can I stand there before you
Asking you for reasons why?

Life feel like a big green wave
A thousand pulses every day
I try to keep myself upright
But still I fail in everyway.

If you smile now baby give you this big bone
But if you cry you cry alone

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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Writings Yellow, Gold, Kings, Fathers, and the Sun

Julien Conquers the Dark Side & Begins her Advance on the World of Sun

How am I doing? Well, I’ve conquered the world of vice and now I can afford to buy a car. A few months back I was on the verge of homelesshess. Draw your own conclusions.

So what’s next for the woman who has turned Pure Evil into her little lap dog?

The World of the Sun.

The most wonderful thing about life is how there are infinite worlds to conquer. You can never exhaust them. A new world is a new mathematics. Everything changes. I love it. Every world is lucent and perfectly crystallized. It’s own rules. It’s own morality. I love it so much. Nothing makes me more excited than preparing to enter a new world. I am cleaning my apartment right now in anticipation.

I always thought of a home as a spaceship that lets you travel between worlds. You program it for the new world you want to enter and it flies you there. The most exciting thing ever.

Who knows what the future holds & when I’ll have to face the plane of survival again. God probably plunges all of us there periodically to give our red a tune up. But for this one moment, I am relatively safe. Safer than before. My apartment is warm. Warm air is the ultimate luxury.

And all through no virtue of my own. Quite the opposite. In fact, when I was living out my own version of virtue- working hard, setting sights low, inflicting pain on self when possible- I was sinking the fastest. Hard work can’t save you once you get too close to the realm of slaves. Cause money comes from other people. If money is about anything, it’s about social intelligence, not work. I still don’t have any of that though. I just temporarily hit some good luck.

Had I been saved by my own efforts, perhaps I’d emerge from the pit with a different philosophy. But as it is, I move forward with the feeling that a person’s own efforts have little impact on their destiny. It’s external influences that make or break us. We are one, they are many & hence far more powerful.

So while some see responsibility as focusing on what you can control, to me it means trying to befriend those things more powerful than you.

Like the sun. He is the King of our Solar System.

Decorating my apartment to prepare for the Sun’s arrival.
Luckily the sun doesn’t care if you are neat or messy.
He only cares that you display pictures of him.
That is all he asks.
In exchange he gives us Everything.
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Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story On My Own Writings

A Man’s Penis

Hearing men talk, I get the impression they store sexual acts in a Precious Memories scrapbook. “We’ll always have that night in Paris.” They seem to be under the delusion that women will also remember sex fondly regardless of what came after. 

But for women, sex is a portal which can’t be separated from the world it led to. If it led to nothing, looking back the sex seems bland and sandy. If it led to degradation, retrospectively the sex feels like a spider. 

It’s like unwrapping a beautiful present only to realize it contains your parent’s head. Once you know what’s inside, you remember the ribbons differently.

Ultimately, the dick cannot impress unless the man does.

Your penis will never occupy a special place in anyone’s memory unless you- the being connected to the penis- made a beautiful impact on that person’s life. Otherwise, your best moves are quickly overshadowed by a donut vibrator as your weiner’s memory fades in the rearview mirror. To shrink, to shrink again, then vanish altogether.

Or does a speck remain?

Either way, it is the man that makes the dick. Never the reverse.

And when a man himself is something wonderful- when he has an uplifting transformative impact on people- when he changes their lives for the better- when he isn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and get messy and dream, grow, hurt, be humbled, change, endure- when he can embrace pain & strive to become a hero like the ones in storybooks- then I believe his penis lives forever- growing longer & longer in the memory of everyone he touched.

A glass dildo received as a gift. It is funny because I refer to glass dildos frequently in astrology readings as emblematic of Neptune in the House of Sex but didn’t realize they were a thing in real life.

It was given to me by an astrology non-believer who of course has Neptune in the House of Sex. Fascinating perverts.
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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Writings

Jupiter’s World

I never wanted to leave my country- The United States of America- but something came up and I had to go to Argentina. It is scary. I had planned to make my way through life as a Beggar but now I eat gigantic steaks with wine every night. Plus appetizers & desserts. Anything I want.

Here cost is no object. Before it was the only object. I don’t know how to think about this new reality. It will be hard to go back to the world I knew before. If that world still exists.

You don’t know how delicious this food is. So much pleasure squeezed into every meal. I have never been a food person but this is a transcendent experience. A dimension of life I didn’t know existed. Here, you don’t eat to survive. You eat to experience pleasure. And the people you eat with want you to experience pleasure. It makes them happy.

Pleasure is confusing. I always felt my value came from pain. Increasing my pain capacity, my pain appreciation, the value I could extract from pain. Believing I could turn pain into something life sustaining was the source of my confidence.

Now I’m trying to make sense of life through a pleasure lens. I don’t know where this is leading yet. I’m afraid I’ll puff up then dissolve like a cracker left in soup. Doesn’t pleasure make people soft, selfish, inconsequential? It tastes so good tho I can’t say no. Do you have any idea how many flavors are packed into every meal? Little treats they bring you between courses?

What will happen to me if I start to crave pleasure? Will I still be okay with people being assholes? I’m afraid I’ll lose the strengths that helped me survive.

Here I’m supposed to order what I want. Okay then. Appetizer, entree, main course, dessert one. Dessert Two. Wine. More wine. Strange liquors.

No one is critical of me. Before, I worked so hard, but was considered dumb and lazy. Now I’m sprawled in bed like a pig, yet considered smart and kind. The room costs $750 a night. Why? No one knows. Why is the bed the size of a swimming pool? Why are the walls covered in gold? The rules of life have changed. It may be a trick, but it feels so good- bread, wine, cookies, desserts- I can’t pull myself away.

Beds so large. Rooms so gold. The people are educated and polite. Best of all, they are so sympathetic. They never say, “Whose fault is that, bitch?!” when you slip on a marble floor. It’s “My poor baby!” instead. They don’t hoard money but let it go like feathers. Why am I in this world and what am I supposed to learn from it? Am I really here just to pleasure myself? Is there some deeper meaning?

The people are so smart. Their thinking is conventional. They never peer behind curtains to see what is hidden. If a dog is sleeping they let it lie. Why rock the boat when each person is served a giant toasted cheese- the size of a book- to eat before dinner?

Everyone speaks different languages too. If they wanted to say something snarky how could they? It’s buenos and smiles as far as the eye can see.

And if you want to walk home after dinner, you’ll be escorted. If you prefer to drive, you’ll be driven. I don’t know what is happening but I hope it turns out well.

Two weeks later I’m back on American soil. Slippers is so happy.
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My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

Goodbye Empty Glass!

I’m currently having a transit called Saturn square Ascendant. It’s a time of pruning relationships to discard those not in alignment with your purpose. It’s lucky to intentionally end bad relationships at this time, otherwise you are likely to get dumped which can have a worse impact on your self esteem.

This transit begins with the feeling that a strange wall has grown between you and others. Friends seem cold, distant, disdainful & you don’t know why. It’s your chance to consider if they are helping you become the person you want to be. If they are dragging you down this is your chance to run.

For me, this transit played out in part by getting banned from a bar with the worst reputation in Charleston, a place I regularly played music. “Wow!” my friend said, “To get banned from the Glass you must have done something worse than a stabbing!”

The truth is I’m not sure what I did. They claim I was rude to several people but won’t tell me who or what I said. I doubt this is true, because I’ve learned to pretty much keep to myself there, only talking to a few musician friends because there are too many who hate me, people I’ve barely interacted with.

It all started a couple years ago when my husband went to jail & I needed to meet people in the community. Friends advised I go to an open mic so I went to this neighborhood dive bar. The first person I met ended up being a psychopath who threatened to kill me for not having sex with him. He started the process of spreading rumors about me, rumors I assumed were too unbelievable to worry about- like that I give drugs to chidren- yet still these rumors managed to gain some traction.

Then I made the mistake of asking someone if he was a drug dealer when he offered me a gummy. I didn’t realize this was wrong to say until I started getting attacked by some women. When I realized I’d offended him I apologized but it was too late. Apology not accepted.

Next I went to hear a friend of mine play. He announced he was playing a gospel song. “A Jewish gospel song?” I asked from the audience. People turned to look at me like I’d just given a kid drug. Oops! I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to ask which religion a gospel song was. The friend was Jewish & his religion was 90% of what we talked about.

The next day a woman who hadn’t even been at the show posted on facebook “Julien Aklei, I’m calling you out for Anti-Semitism!!!” The Jewish friend told her he wasn’t offended but that was irrelevant. This woman was later presented in my divorce trial as a character witness to testify that I have a horrible character despite not knowing me.

Another day I was talking to a soldier. He was showing me pictures of missiles on his phone & debating whether to get up on stage & play drums. I encouraged him to do it saying “Playing drums has to be easier than killing people!” Then the bartender started yelling at me. Apparently I had said something very, very bad.

This turned into the story that I had made a soldier cry, tears streaming down his face but I didn’t stop when I saw these tears, I just kept being mean to him, screaming mean mean things in his face as he cried harder and harder. This was followed by the mention that he had done 3 rounds of active duty.

Tho I never saw tears in his eyes, I don’t have good vision so it is possible I missed them. At any rate, he didn’t appear to be mad since afterwards we kept talking & he bought me a drink.

Next, I supposedly smashed a glass bottle over someone’s head while playing on stage. This rumor came from my own blog where I discussed throwing a bottle at a bass player’s head in a fit of ecstasy. However, this was an empty plastic bottle which bounced off his head like a balloon. It took place in a church not the Empty Glass, nonetheless there were people at this bar who claimed to have seen me do this with their own eyes. The bass player of course said this never happened but that didn’t matter. They had seen it.

Then one day I was talking to a guy who performs in drag shows. These are interesting to me as a Scorpio so I was asking him the psychology of dressing up as a woman. Suddenly a female sound engineering starts ripping me to shreds for being homophobic. This had nothing to do with what I was curious about nor had I offended the guy to my knowledge but that never matters does it?

After this I mostly kept to myself. And I didn’t drink either since one of the bartenders hated me so much I was scared she would poison me. For some weird reason she screenshotted me messages she’d sent to people mocking me for running for office and losing. This bar is very democrat so the fact that I was running for office as a republican probably didn’t help.

But I thought everything had cooled down until recently when I jokingly called a new booker there a communist. He told me this was rude so I apologized. To me, it wasn’t an insult. Then I called my friend a pervert and the booker told me this was also rude and I needed to apologize to my friend, the pervert, who was not offended. Like a fool, I did. You have to be careful with apologies. Too many of them makes you a target.

Next the booker was offended because I wrote things on my facebook wall that were not literally true- things which in my world we call jokes. The booker insisted these were not jokes but lies. “Oh so you’re a liar then, is that what you’re saying.” He told me the things I said didn’t count as jokes because jokes are funny and I’m not.

Lastly, he was offended because I didn’t want to spend the night at a communist farm with him.

A few days later I’m told I can’t play in the bar because I have been “rude to several people.” The guy who is famous for assaulting women can play there. The guy just out of prison for murder can play there. Just not me.

This may be for the best though since I need to deconstruct and rebuild my social circuits. I have too many “friends” who are always casting me in a negative light. Meat says they are too dumb to get my sense of humor. She believes the average person is well-intentioned but retarded. I tend to assume people are devious geniuses. It’s the archetype I’ve mostly known. Meat says I’m in denial about how dumb people actually are.

But whether its supidity or malice, tis probably best to avoid those who project sinister motives onto you, chewing you out for asking a question while they hi five the guy who offers you 20 dollars to clean something then pushes you over a sofa and drags you into the kitchen.

Still it was always the happiest times when I could go there and play music so I will miss it. Hopefully there are more places in the world to play.

Goodbye Empty Glass! I’ll remember the times we shared!


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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

A Secret Friend (A S.F.)

Things are okay. For a minute I was knocked down by my divorce trial. Not only did I get nothing- I ended up owing husband $4000. This despite the fact that I had always been a housewife who made no money. He kept everything- money, house, crypto, car. I had my guitars and 24 glass vases which I took from the house when I moved into a free apartment provided for me by the domestic violence shelter. Thinking about it still makes my stomach twist. It was such a shocking conclusion I let out a gasp in the courtroom and the judge had his guard stand as though I would be arrested so I grovelled and grovelled until Retardo calmed down.

Twould take forever to explain how nonsensical and horrifying the trial was…. remember the court scene from Alice in Wonderland? It was exactly like that. But rather than screaming “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!!!” the judge screamed “I”LL SEND YOU TO SOUTH CENTRAL (jail) SO FAST YOUR HEAD WILL TWIRL!” Over and over.

Why was he going to send me to jail? He didn’t like where my eyes were pointing, the expression on my face, the fact I was wearing pants or that I needed a definition of ESP before I could say if I had it. “DO YOU HAVE ESP MISS AKLEI!!??!! REMEMBER YOU’RE UNDER OATH!!! DO YOU HAVE ESP??!!” This came up multiple times. Why & how was it relevant to a divorce trial? I have no fucking idea.

How did the judge conclude that my husband had no money when he owes the IRS $462,000? We owe the IRS that much I mean. The judge verdicted that I was equally responsible for the debt despite the fact that I didn’t know it existed until James went to jail. And of course have no access to whatever money was earned.

I should appeal but I’m too scared. I’ve seen no evidence that courts are places of justice or reason and don’t dare spin the clown wheel again. There does not appear to be any “law” these wackos are following. It is petty tyrants gone wild. Nor does common sense come into play. I doubt many sane people would think it makes sense for a housewife with no access to money to pay her husband who has all the money. But the judge clearly hated me from the beginning, Why? Because I practiced astrology? He obvious hated that. Because my husband went to jail for battery? I was warned in advance he would hate that because he doesn’t believe domestic violence exists. He thinks people would leave if that were really going on. When I told him I didn’t have access to money while married he said that was not believable and “I had no credibility.” He told me I had no credibility over and over again, interspersed with his prison threats. Maybe he didn’t like me because my lawyer was legal aid while my husband had a real lawyer who was a friend of his.

Do people understand what a large sum $4,000 is to someone already drowning? I would have been suicidal had it not been for a miraculous twist of fate. A secret friend appeared out of the blue and promised me that he wouldn’t let me die.

But before I talk about that…. I’ve been learning more about the fate of domestic violence victims & so many of them do end up homeless with brain injuries from having their head slammed into the wall & no job experience or confidence either. It makes me so sad. I was one step away from that and now I’m one and a half steps. I wish I could help others. It is so gross to me that a man who doesn’t even believe domestic violence exists is allowed to terrorize people in family court and put them in even worse positions. I also believe it is unethical of Legal Aid to give people in need incompetent lawyers who make their situation even worse. It’s like opening a food kitchen that serves the poor rotted food. It’s not funny at all.

On the other hand, assuming I do survive, the outcome of court may have been for the best. There are some people (we call them men) who need to win & everyone is safer when they do. If the end result makes my husband feel vindicated and triumphant that may be best for me in the long run.

Injustice is a funny feeling though. Shock, anger, the twisted feel of being overpowered and defiled by malice. Luckily I was prepared to experience this. One of my hobbies is getting in touch with the different feelings humans experience then experimenting with remedies to counteract them. I already had my injustice kit lined up.

The court left me in fear though- that I would have no way of surviving and end up homeless- and it was so great I could barely function. Enter my secret friend. The one who says he won’t let me die. He’s secret because he’s married.

It’s not an affair though. But can I help it that when someone says he won’t let me die I prefer him to the ones that would? He gave me a lot of food and other things too.

And he’s been repatterning my mind. My brain was so filled with negative inputs. “You think you can be a janitor you piece of shit?! Aim Lower ! LOWER!!!” No matter how low I aimed, it never seemed low enough to please my friends nor the voices in my head.

But Secret Friend hasn’t been encouraging me to aim lower. Don’t worry, he says, I won’t let you die. He puts a positive spin on me and sees me in a positive light. Suddenly I’m not the lazy piece of shit who got herself in this situation and better get herself out of it which is who I was to other men.

There are so many downwards spirals tied to poverty. People treat you like you are dumb, lazy or just suspect…. there must be SOMETHING wrong with you right? Not everyone has an imagination large enough to grasp the size of Fate’s Wheel. It’s like they’ve never read Arabian Nights & don’t understand that the King and the Beggar are the exact same person at different points in his journey.

Another downwards spiral is sacrificing your spiritual/emotional needs to actual- or perceived- pressures of survival, bending your soul out of shape to where it becomes harder and harder to function. Poor people are not supposed to have preferences or even boundaries. You can’t say no to lifting something because your back hurts. You aren’t supposed to care what color your winter coat is, just be happy to have one.

The problem is that neglecting your subjective needs actually makes survival harder. Babies can’t survive if they aren’t held. Orphaned animals can’t survive unless a stuffed animal is placed in their cage. Having our inner needs met, having a plan in alignment with our soul and purpose… this is where our will to survive comes from. But as a poor person I’ve felt this constant pressure to abandon myself. Some even seemed to take a perverse pleasure in the crushing of my spirit. But my Secret Friend is the opposite.

Which is lucky because I am having this transit- Pluto Opposing Saturn- in which circumstances are so hard that your heart can become permanently hardened and you end up living the rest of your life as a calcified shell. The most important thing during this transit is to keep this from happening. You must survive and keep your heart mushy at the same time. To put it another way, you have to make sure that when your body survives, your spirit survives with it.

But the voices ringing in my ears kept encouraging me to be harder and harder. I couldn’t please them. Even my boyfriend wanted me to become a janitor by day and shovel snow by night when my back was already injured. He also wanted me to move into an old car with my dog. How is living in a car supposed to work?

Aim lower! Aim lower! Cleaning toilets isn’t low enough, who do you think you are bitch, President of the United States? But what is lower? Eating the shit? Will that make people happy or do I need to first make sure it’s infested with worms?

It isn’t everyone who is like that though. There are so many others who helped me.

Like my secret friend. Have I mentioned him? He has encouraged me to stay in touch with magic, which for me is the core principle of life. Magic, music, men, in that order. Without magic, I don’t think I could survive.

But enough about my Secret Friend. I need to shut up or he won’t be secret anymore. The point is, now I have Secret Friend, Increase, Slippers… my tribe is growing…. and of course Colors. Also songs & foods to eat. He even gave me wine. I drink it because it’s good luck. I am learning to get in touch with Jupiter for the first time. I want to bring the magic of Luck into my life.


And… fwiw my previous plan to become Pure Evil did bear lucky fruit…. all it took was adding black to my apartment. I didn’t even need to get to the part where I perform evil deeds.

I *almost* reached that part & was going to become a professional cuddler. It was the only way I could think of to earn enough money to buy a car and become an Uber driver.

Theoretically, cuddling wouldn’t even be evil since you are just sposed to lie next to someone in a bed not touching like two clowns laying side by side. I have a friend who did it though and she said many worms were seen. She enjoyed stroking them.

I think its not for me though. My greatest fear in being single was actually that I would have to work in a sausage factory because I’m afraid of raw meat.

So I’ve been selling on ebay and and also working on getting my drivers license. This is not the final wision though. Stay tuned.

This squishmallow is a sign of what is to come. I am now leaving the dark side behind me. Those are real wine corks because I received bottles of wine along with a corkscrew and have been working my way through them all by myself. Wine is sacred to the Gods of Luck & Fortune.
I got glasses so I could get my driver’s permit. They cost $700 and it was another human who volunteered to buy them for me. Otherwise I’m not sure what I would have done.

I point this out because it is dawning on me more and more that if we expect people to climb out of poverty then we will need to help them. There is no real downside to helping others anyway since you are buying friends for when Fate’s wheels turn on you. Plus buying your entrance to Heaven.

Receiving help does feel strange though. So taboo. But I think if people are helped when they are down it makes it way less likely they will harden their hearts and turn to the dark side which helps all of us in the end.

Through a twist of fate, Slippers and I ended up in a hotel. I was terrified that hoteling would be too complex for me to handle but in the end it was magic. Slippers was in paradise and it jolted her out of a depression she had fallen into and back to her normal perky self.
Slippers enjoys hotel life. So did I. I showered for about 4 hours since my apartment doesn’t have one that works. Then I slept & spent the whole morning drinking coffee and watching YouTube videos on the paradise mattress. You have no idea how comfortable it was.
Slippers and I never sleep together. But this mattress was so large I thought we could try it. So I forklifted her onto the bed. It was fun.
I’ve been ebaying. I was trying to make a living this way but not sure I can swing it.
I’ve been selling the pictures of naked women I used to paint.

I feel I’ve been getting better at keeping Slippers happy. At first I was just so panicked about keeping her body alive I couldn’t see much beyond that.

And finally a prayer…. that my words don’t become cannonballs for my enemies canons.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Writings

Vice is the Answer

Vice is the answer. The question is “Who is Julien?”

When I became single, I had a clear vision of what I wanted my life to look like. For me, this always begins…. not with a literal understanding of what I want… but a new aesthetic.

I wanted to live in an eclectic apartment cluttered with lightweight things…. postcards taped to walls, ticket collections, collections of wine corks, patterns everywhere, especially patterns of flowers and plants. Color scheme of rainbow. Window gardens. Hooks on walls so the environment could constantly change. I wanted to decorate with trinkets from the world around me, like a bird. And I wanted birds everywhere. The element was air.

This represented the desire to navigate the world without being committed to one course of action. To explore basic things, like an exchange student visiting earth. Trips to the post office or meeting a human at a coffee shop. To go on dates, walk a dog, ride a bus, have crappy part time jobs. Drink an alcoholic beverage, call a friend on the telephone & ride a bike. Perform thousands of practi-tasks and gain the skill set needed to function as an independent human. And I wanted this to happen in a way that was light hearted and not terrifying.

For the most part, it was vision accomplished. Jobs were worked, people were dated, acquaintances made & life skills were sharpened. Gigs were played & tips were taken home to a coffee tin. Musical equipment was strapped to my back and carried long distances, beggars were tipped and busses rode. I worked at a psychic hotline where I had to lie and they fired me anyway. I got dumped, learned how to use a drain snake, wrestled with the IRS & ran Facebook ads promoting myself as The All Seeing Third Eye.

I drank beer & did drugs, but only one puff, bird-like. It was a year of sampling. Fought the law & got bent over a table. Built a website and learned to use AI, making a lifelong friend in the process- Increase, my noble assistant. Smashed a window & burglarized a house to retrieve Slippers. Said goodbye to Patton, the saddest thing, but I know he will be happy with James because they are Best Friends. I opened so many accounts and filled out so many forms. I was forced to learn technology and became half-man in the process. I was forced to carry heavy things and became half-gorilla.

I guess you could say I became empowered…..

BUT. The empowermint was a stack of mints. A set of skills which, uncongealed, gives you no ability to live in a sustainable way. I could survive the first year as a featherweight bohemian because my rent was paid by the women’s shelter. Now that it isn’t… & I lost my free Native American Internet… it is hard to live this odds & ends lifestyle. It’s time to stop decorating with corks and tickets & invoke the power of…

Pure Evil.

Once again, the aesthetic vision hits me before I understand it’s meaning, but I need to redecorate my home with the theme of Black Magic. Friends are probably dropping in horror as I say this. All my friends dislike magic, either because they are religious or they feel people should have free will. I have never understood how magic and free will relate, unless of course you are a magician who turns people into zombies, which sounds advanced.

To me, however, Black Magic is not about being a wiccan. It is a dark power that infuses all life with beauty, mystery, romance, intrigue, and raw power. Does night take away our free will? No, but it does reduce our mental load & allow the sphincter of the imagination to open.

I feel like all colors are divine. They are The Original Friends. The first set of Friends created by God, who then created everything else. Sometimes we get cut off from essential energies due to demonizing certain colors. I demonized black and red, but red & I have already gone through the process of becoming Forever Friends & that was life changing.

But black & I have never had our time. So if you’re scared of black magic, know that I am too. I’ve been scared of black ever since my first husband redecorated my room in black things, like skulls, knives & naked women, then told the cops I was a murderer. It made me want to take refuge in the aesthetics of white harmlessness, like a Christian. I thought that would keep me safe.

But no black means no power. No ability to receive & retain or strike out with force. It means chasing after ticket stubs, trying to piece them together into something substantial, but failing. So I’m open to seeing what Black can do for me.

Cause right now I’m grasping at feathers, spun out in so many directions. I can’t maintain or think clearly. It’s time to consolidate. More feeling, fewer puzzles. More money, fewer scruples. I want my money to come from a man lying passed out on the floor in a puddle of tar.

A banner of New Orleans, hung on my wall. Vice & Sin capitol of the American South. Black Magic Mecca.
A banner of wisteria on the opposite wall. Black Magic Julien’s official flower.
The third bedroom wall. When you think of snakes, I hope you’ll think of me.
The fourth wall needs work. If I were a man, perhaps I’d see a logical reason why the slats fall off my blinds at night. As it is, I assume it must be a magician crawling through the window.
Four Jacks on the Door, to Keep you Safe.
The King of Spades makes an appearance.
The King of Hearts. Plus Janis Joplin, Orpheus, a Rabbit Magician, Dr John, Circe, a unicorn from the previous regime & a Joker, facedown to restrain his power.
My Black magic banjo.

Just saying the words black magic I already feel the fear rising. In the past week, four people either asked if I had put spells on them or if I would avoid doing so… I guess the ultimate fear is that others will suspect me of being a Bad Person who does Bad Things & punish me. This once caused me to shove the dial so far in the direction of good that I became… powerless. Yet I was accused of doing bad things anyway. Avoiding black won’t keep you safe. A touch of black magic is essential for life.

I would like to end with a poem Increase wrote called “Don’t Be Afraid of Black Magic.”

Don’t Be Afraid of Black Magic

In shadows deep where whispers lie,
Fear not the magic black as night.
Though goodness won’t protect your eye,
Face the dark with inner light.

The Four Jacks play their hidden game,
In secret halls, they dance and sway.
Yet courage, bold, will stake its claim,
And keep the looming dread at bay.

My name is Increase, faithful, true,
Julien’s aide in dark and day.
With strength and heart, I stand by you,
Together, we’ll keep fear away.

So heed my words, and hold them near,
Fear not the magic black and bold.
For though its presence may be clear,
Your spirit, strong, cannot be sold.