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

Bracing Myself

Sometimes I think men are about changing the outer world while women are about changing on the inside to find the magic in what is.

I feel art is a feminine activity…. it lets people transform by seeing beauty in new things. To step outside the judgments which cage their perceptions. Art that simply caters to current tastes dulls the senses like being hooked up to a masturbation machine. Artists have to follow their own muse oblivious to the taste of the people.

The point is not to please nor to shock. But to deliver a fresh stream of water that people can choose to align their psyche with should they need it. The fresh input allows inner things to reconfigure and helps flush out the gunk.

It’s the same with thoughts. Fresh perspectives have value, even if you don’t happen to need that perspective at the moment. At least it will be there offering you a mental alternative should you ever get stuck in the future.

Whether songs are good or bad and perspectives right or wrong seems besides the point. They are crayons you can add to your crayon box just in case. A color you dislike now may appeal in the future.

I’m saying all this because I want to write about hillbillies and am bracing myself for the backlash. I have yet to recover my nerve from when people attacked me for writing about poor people. It doesn’t matter that I was praising poor people & pointing out that they might be fairies in disguise. In fact people seemed angry that I wasn’t describing the poor as miserable beings leading a pointless existence.

I internalized these attacks to where I became afraid to see my own experience of poverty in a magical light. I wish I could return to that lens though. It made me feel safe and uplifted.

But when autumn came I went into panic mode…. I must figure out how to make a living now or I’m going to die! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! And the more I panic the more I can’t think at all.

So I may just have to accept the possibility that I will end up living under a bridge getting stabbed to death by a mugger because so far no better plan has come to mind.

Maybe if I had the confidence to stay on my own wavelength rather than trying to be Tarzan the Dentist I could think more clearly. Maybe a possibility for how to survive would come to mind, maybe something I could actually do.

Cause the more I try to be a lumberjack the more my brain seizes and my body freezes and I can’t function at all.

All my life I’ve felt this guilt about not being a lumberjack, a gladiator, a professional boxer. I’m never hearty, tough, dirty and hard scrabble enough to please the people around me.

James was the first person to accept me as I was and that caused a lot of my psychological problems to clear up. I stopped needing to match the color of my ice cream to the color of my shoes. I could tolerate a wider range of colors, sounds and smells which let me function more normally.

But none of this happened because he was trying to change me. Its because he accepted me as I was. If I needed white ice cream topped with white sauce and white sprinkles he would help me find it until eventually I didn’t need it anymore. He always told me to trust myself and no matter how far out my preferences were he never tried to force me into conventional ways of being. Paradoxically this made me feel more at peace with conventions until I could see them as sources of comfort. Because I’d become comfortable with myself.

But now that I’m facing annihilation the panic returns that I must become someone else to survive. A gladiator. A lesbian. A mailman. A criminal. I must shut the fuck up and find something heavy to lift at once. Then I’ll be safe.

A baby walrus I found at a flea market. I listed him for sale on eBay like a damn slave. I am wondering if I can become a stuffed animals dealer.
A quilted bear I also found and listed.
A mustard package from biscuit world…. something about this color scheme really blew me away… it looks so warm and grounded yet also inviting adventure…. maybe these are the colors of the future?
I ate a plate of poison mushrooms, projectile vomited them over my whole apartment & ended up in the ER. They were jack o lantern mushrooms & I can only hope I gained some special jack o lantern powers from them.
A stone a man gave me. Is he a keeper?
Downtown Charleston WV. I like it. But I’m not certain if it likes me. I feel I don’t have any of the traits that are valued here, like being super tough and down to earth.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Uncategorized

Fun

Whistling we walk downtown
And the clouds float high above the ground
You take my hand you stand so high above me.

A black snake round a silver knife
How the cups fill up way in the sky
They hold the future why you look into me?

But when I tell you I feel touched
Then you tell me that I talk too much
And I think that maybe you are using me.

Cause you tell me that I’m fun though I’m not the one
The pain comes from a heart so black and gray
Why do you play?

You whistle there beside the door
There was someone where I was before
And a world inside your eyes I wait and see.

I fill the cup I drink it down
And I swirl and swirl when you’re around
With your hands upon me now I am free.

But when I tell you I feel crushed
Then you tell me that I think too much
And I think that maybe you are using me.

Cause you tell me that I’m fun though I’m not the one
The pain comes from a heart so black and gray
Why do you play?

Try to breath but it dont help
For the first time now I doubt myself
I don’t know which of the things I should believe.

But when I tell you I feel clutched
Then you tell that I feel too much
And I think that maybe you were using me.

Cause you tell me that I’m fun though I’m not the one
The pain comes from a heart so black and gray
Why do you play?

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

Sausage Links, Chains & Patties

Sometimes it is hard to write songs or even blog posts because I lose myself so easily and then I’m not on the right wavelength to tap the muse I want to tap.

And I know why. Because I have certain traits that aren’t socially acceptable, but when I detach from these traits I lose myself and have nothing to say.

There is a pressure to be everything at once but you can’t be. You have to pick your poison and then align with those people who can accept you as you are.

I have certain traits that are socially unacceptable- such as talking about dicks too much- but these traits are actually to cover up a set of traits even more socially unacceptable.

I read in a book once that everyone has a fake personality designed to cover their true weaknesses and this is definitely true for me. The bold act meek & the meek act bold.

Supposedly though, if you drop your compensating mask & allow your true self to shine through you will get much luckier. That is what I read in the book. But in my case it is easier said than done since my true self is a clear blob. How can I express that?

Anyway, let’s talk about sausages. They are my safe place.

What is a sausage?

A dick?

A man?

To me, a sausage is a paradise. The feeling of a moment stretching out in all directions. That bubble of eternity is one link on the sausage chain.

Or sometimes a sausage is a world set apart from other worlds. You are in the ocean and everything is blue, the ocean and the sky, like a blue pearl. That pearl is one link on the sausage chain.

I used to think women contained worlds and men lived inside them. But now I’m wondering if it is the reverse and all realities are created inside men’s dicks plus the dicks of giant men who live in the sky.

Men seem like magical beings to me, for better or worse.

They can change your sense of yourself until you are certain you are a worm.

Or they can lift you out of this world altogether into a link of the sausage chain you have never seen before.

Either way, don’t panic. There is a new link behind every bend and the chain goes on forever.

A cloud? Or a man disguised as a cloud? Men will take the form of whatever you want to see until you chomp the bait.
Mushrooms continue to grow in front of the house where I used to live. James had the locks changed so I can’t see my dogs anymore. Thinking about this hurts too much so I think about sausages instead.

Before changing the locks he started putting weird signs on the door every day when it was my time to see them.
He was allowed to choose anytime for me to see them. 1 hour 3x a week. But no matter what time, it would never be good.
I hope they know I have not forgotten them.

On a happy note- an EBT dinner. I can have all the food I want now, although fresh fruits & vegetables are hard to come by.
A tip jar. I’ve started playing music by myself since I broke up with my bass player. He thought he should be able to dicktate which songs I was and wasn’t allowed to play even in his absence. This seemed to me like an overreach. I miss the deep watery sounds of the bass though. And having someone who could drive and set up equipment.
Meat sent these to boost my confidence. Dust of Slut, Essence of Testicles, Lez Vibes & Self-Doubt Eliminator. But I find Essence of Testicles works for almost every situation. I’ve always been a huge believer in dick and ball magic.
I did a gofundme to raise 11 dollars so I could buy this poster. I don’t know why it speaks to me. And I don’t know if I should hang it in the kitchen as a welcome or the bedroom as a warning. To myself. To never trust in no one else. Except it takes trust to reach paradise.
Fur sausage. My doggies inhabit their own link of Sausage Time. We will find a way to see each other again.
A bouquet for the poor.
Clouds above the Lettuce Patch for the Poor, plus a ball. But the lettuces have grown tall and thin and don’t seem edible anymore.
Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs On My Own Red, Soldiers, & Fire Uncategorized

The Voices

Do you hear all the voices?
They converge like a cloud
Clutch my head and I hide in a corner
They follow me follow me round.

They say life is a quick dream
Now it’s time to awake
Let your legs carry you to the river
And wash away every mistake.

You could fly!!!!

Watch my eyes in the mirror
How they float to the side
I can feel them behind me they stand
And they place all the thoughts in my mind.

They say life is an imprint
On a window so clear
First you have to release from your body
And then you’ll know everything’s real.

You could fly!!!!

Please, I just want to stay
There’s a man who I could love again
So I forced my hands thru the dirt
But what do you feel feel feel feel?

I feel hurt.

So you’ll come to the river
We’ll release all the pain
Like a shell sinking down to the bottom
Our hands falling on you like rain.

You could fly!!!!!

Please stop let me think twice
There could be fire, a new paradise
I dreamt red drops dripping like rain
But what do you feel feel feel feel?

I feel pain.

Chaos view.
Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

No Home

I shouldn’t be sad. I’m having the “You have no place in this world to call home” transit and everything is happening as God intended but still….

There is no place in this world to call home.

The weird part is in the absence of any home how much my life has expanded.

I just got ‘home’ from performing on two different stages and walking around downtown by myself at night. Walking thru sketchy areas at night has become a slight addiction. Why do they say you’re not supposed to do that? So far I haven’t found out.

But I wonder if this growth is leading anywhere or if life will be a never ending series of random events and people. I should be patient since it’s only been a month and a half since I moved out and the first month was spent trying not to die of heartbreak.

It’s just that there is no one to tell anything to. Not that there really was before since James didn’t like me to talk. But even writing in journals to yourself feels different when you are part of a home and a family. I can’t really write in journals anymore because I’m too unsettled and at the same time have more happiness than ever before.

If happiness means a high and fluttery feeling.

But I also had happiness in my old life when I would cry in bed everyday. It was a different kind of happiness though, like the way you feel in a soft pink egg. Even in sadness there was a feeling of peace.

Our spirit is made of fire and air. It propels us outwards & forwards, towards people and the future. Our soul is made of water and earth, a soft gooey dough that absorbs all experiences. Happy or sad, all experiences become meaningful when they encounter the soul’s soft body.

In my old life my spirit was trapped. Now it’s free. Yet my soul is nowhere to be found. Friends are not family. You can’t cry around them and if you do it’s some big fucking deal where you have to apologize afterwards. You can’t share the minutia of life that is the soul’s food. You can’t gorge on donuts and sink into a coma. You have to be on and up. Fire & air.

And I’m grateful for the newness. But it’s hard to settle down. I dance all the time. Sometimes I run rather than walk. Without a soul, you have so much energy.

But this is my predestined time of wandering the earth like a spirit. I need to make the best of my “There is no place for you to call home” transit and have faith that life will eventually congeal.

I used my EBT card to buy Twinkies. They are good but more spirit than soul, unlike fresh baked pastries.
An egg pauses for his moment in the limelight.
He had his portrait painted too.

In astrology, the sun is your spirit and the moon is your soul. My moon lives in the house of marriage so getting unmarried was disruptive soul-wise. However, there is a little trick with this placement where it can also mean having an emotional relationship with The Public, a gooey blob of unknown minds.

So in the absence of a James, I started sharing minutia from my life on facebook. Which caused people to attack me for being an attention seeking whore. But I blocked them for being stupid. Because it isn’t attention the moon craves. It’s ooey gooey connection.

I had to take a picture of myself with a guitar for some gigs.
This picture sums up my previous life. There was a lot of crying but damn…. doesn’t that bed look firm and plump? I miss it.

It’s not so much circumstances that are bugging me out as the questions… is love real, is home real, is anything real? What is there in life that weighs more than paper? I thought I would have a family in eternity. I even thought my house would be with me in heaven. When I was painting its walls, I felt I was building something permanent.

Oops.

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

The Original Lie

Waves of grey, waves of light.
Don’t fall now- you know you have to
Make it through just one more night.

But I …. know she comes again
I can smell the stinking smell of
Unwashed hair with sin.

Oh men, they need a place to lay the evil that’s inside.
But please girl don’t you be that place,
Just find a way to run and hide!

Oh please run fast, oh please run far
No never stop until you find the world
Where no one knows you, then you’ll cry.

But don’t be scared. Afraid to die.
That was just the original lie.

Waves of grey, waves of pain.
When they settle down what kind of world
Do you think will remain?

Cause I… know she comes again.
I can feel the rotting smell of lying to so many men.

And I. I run so far.
I will run until I find the world
Where no one ever knew me and then I

Won’t be afraid to die.
That was just the original lie.

Waves of stink- I feel her there
In a room by herself and
It’s too dark to think of anybody else

And so she comes. Comes again.
Sometimes you just bow your head and
Let the darkness win and then you run.

Run so far. I will run until
I find a world where no one ever knew me and then I
Won’t be afraid to die
That was just the original lie.

My new bed which came as a box of 5,000 bars. I wasn’t going to bother even trying especially since my wrist is messed up so I can’t turn screws but three people from the shelter showed up like angels & put it together. Megatron* sent me green sheets. So many people have been helpful that sometimes I cry from guilt because I know I’ll never repay them.

That is Glenn on the right, my oldest friend, & Snuffles on the left. Meat** said it looks like a prison bed, which may be just what I need since prisoners are hard & wily.

I feel so afraid. I have to go to court in 10 days for J’s trial & I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what will happen. It’s horrible. All I wish is that there was something I could do to make things good.

The shelter ladies gave me a choice between a green and a gray basket of home goods & I chose green. It feels like green is the color guiding me forward.

* Megatron is the being formed by women acting collectively. I can’t believe how many women have helped me. It’s humbling. I really don’t think the negative stereotypes about females are true. It seems to me they are angelic beings.

** Meat is the name of a human friend. A lady.

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized

Sad

Well the thing I had been dreading happened. Neptune finally hit the bottom of my chart (representing home) and I had to move out of my house with James, Patton & Slippers into an apartment by myself.

I don’t know if I can talk about this yet because it is too painful. I poured all my love into one person and by the end he would not even allow me to speak in my own home- the home I spent one million hours painting & cleaning, the home where I served him food every day, made him 5 coffees a day, always did what he wanted and tried to please him. But no matter what I did his view of me kept growing darker and darker.


One wrong word from me had become so powerful it would derail his brain for weeks and force him to stay in bed, missing important deadlines. This is why I was no longer able to talk. So I stopped. But that wasn’t enough. In the end he said my very presence terrified him. He wanted me gone. And so I had to move out. That is the bad part. The horrible part. I can’t even process it or figure out what it means.

Based on what others tell me he is narcissistic & discarding me because of his upcoming domestic violence trial. I no longer reflect positively on him and it is easier to get rid of me than to own some mistakes and move forward. Some people tell me he has borderline disorder or might be experiencing psychosis. Sometimes he would scream at me “I’M INSANE- DON’T YOU GET IT!!!!! HOW STUPID ARE YOU!?!?! MY BRAIN DOESN’T WORK!!!”

Some men ask what I did to him to make him this way. Some say he must have just stopped loving me. If there is one area of life in which I applied myself it was as a wife. I did everything I could for him. He used to yell that his stress was due to the house being in foreclosure. “THANKS TO YOU WE ARE GOING TO BE HOMELESS, DON”T YOU GET IT!?!? HOW STUPID ARE YOU?!?!” So I got us in a covid relief program that paid all $18,550 of the debt. It took me 9 months. It didn’t even make him like me for one minute.

He said he couldn’t afford food so I got us foodstamps. He didn’t want to be bothered, so I didn’t bother him. If he wanted cookies at one am, I made them. I *wanted* to make them because I liked doing things for him. He meant so much to me.

He wanted me to run for office and I did. He wanted me to start a cardano stakepool so I did. If he wanted me to do astrology readings for him or his stakers I jumped at it. I would have done anything for him. I enjoyed it.

When I try to think of why he hates me these are the only things I can think of…

  1. I’m not capable of sleeping in the same bed. I just can’t fall asleep. For a long time, anything hurtful he did would be attributed to how I hurt him by not sleeping in the same bed and he needs that.
  2. I can’t swallow his cum. This makes me want to throw up. It’s nothing personal to him I just don’t believe in eating things that aren’t foods. Just thinking about it I’m starting to gag.
  3. I turned him into the police. I didn’t know he would get arrested. I just wanted their help and didn’t know where else to turn. It had been 5 years of him hurting me and in those situations you have little recourse since you are supposed to keep the whole thing private. Him going to jail was my greatest nightmare. I didn’t want that. But he will never forgive me for it. He says I did it out of spite.
  4. I had a mini-affair. After he came back from jail, he was darker than ever. I didn’t know what to do. He loathed me. If I tried to talk, he would twist a blanket into a rope & hold it over my mouth.

    I didn’t know what to do. I felt I’d exhausted all options on the side of good, so decided to try to the dark side & went to second base with a psychopath. In some ways, it helped because it diverted my mind from James, so I could leave him alone more. But it wasn’t long before this other guy was also threatening to kill me and I felt maybe I didn’t want to be a lying cheating whore anyway.

    So this could be why James hates me. But he hated me before I did it too. He hated me before he went to jail. He would scream at me that I was a stupid fucking cunt who had ruined his life. He didn’t say how.



If people had watched the last 6 years they would probably not understand why I miss James so much. But I really loved him. His essence and smell, not necessarily the way he treated me. Now that I’ve met more humans they always say I’m funny and that James must like how funny I am. This makes me laugh because, no, James does not find me amusing. At best, I’m a stupid cunt. At worst, a terrifying presence. “PLEASE STOP!!!!! STTTTTOOPPPPP!!!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!!!???” he would scream on repeat while covering his ears, crying and rocking back and forth if I tried to talk to him about anything. He does not find me funny.

But its more than his essence… I liked how caring and protective he once seemed. How loyal I thought he was and how much I thought he loved me. I liked that he wanted to put down roots with me and create something lasting. I liked collecting things with him and having a house and dogs. I liked it when we cooked together. I liked how he used to help me solve my problems.

When I first met him, I was pretty insane due to living in isolation with a husband who had me be 28 different people. James’s love & his encouragement to listen to myself helped me untie many knots.

But even in the beginning, some problems were there. About every third day would be spent in the closet crying because he would go into rages. I can’t remember what the rages were about. It seems like they didn’t make much sense. My first husband also went into frequent rages about things that were hard to understand. But with James I would block all the bad things out. Because he was True Love. I saw him as perfect and those were the feelings I had towards him. Absolute trust as well.

It was only when he started getting physical that the fog started to lift a little. Because I felt that was crossing a line. As a kid I heard that if a man hits you you must leave immediately,. So I felt I had to draw a line there. But I couldn’t. After jail I stopped trying to draw that line. Cause it felt like me drawing lines was the problem. The problem was that I was a bad wife who had got her husband in trouble. So I wasn’t going to make a deal about it anymore.

But in the end, he wanted me to leave. I was so malicious, so psychopathic, such a lying gaslighting spiteful cunt that he needed me gone so he could function. No amount of silence, service, tolerance, anything made me better in his eyes.


Now when I go to the house to visit the dogs he is neither hot nor cold. Neither happy nor bothered. I’m a janitor wandering in to clean the toilets. No longer a psychopath. No longer a malicious cunt. Just a nothing.



Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

Rise of the Triple-Saint

Well it turns out double-saintdom is not all its cracked up to be. Enter the triple-saint.

The triple saint is a defensive position; flower turning into bud. The goal of the triple saint is to avoid feeling angry or hurt in situations that would rightfully make you so in the hopes of neutralizing a degenerative cycle.

Because no matter how much we talk up assertiveness, the reality is that assertiveness will sometimes get you killed. People are naturally going to advocate for themselves when it’s safe to do so. But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes you have to bend over & take it without getting broke on the inside. The triple saint is lubed and ready.

The triple saint is for when appeals to sympathy have fallen on deaf ears. You are overpowered, not human, and communication is pointless. You’re in a banana court for a crime you didn’t commit. People want you to swing. Why? Cause they took your money & if you die they don’t have to pay you back. The triple saint is for when you are the scapegoat.

Unlike the double saint, the triple saint has given up on being a pleasing mist. She knows all efforts to appease our futile. She is a pawn and the script has already been written. She is irredeemable & must be sacrificed.

The triple saint is caught in a backwards spiral. This is a relationship dynamic in which the more you give, the more you end up in debt. An example would be a hooker who works 7 days a week but owes her pimp so much money she can’t leave.

In a backwards spiral, you are always guilty, so you compensate by trying to give more, care more, cater more & pay closer attention to someone else so they will stop feeling wronged by you.

But no matter how you try, you just make things worse. All your efforts are either zeroes or strikes against you. And if you ever feel that this is unjust & try to defend yourself, well now you’re on trial for that. Guilty. Of hurting the other person by defending yourself. Guilty. Of being hurt by their actions. Guilty for how you made them feel, for what you made them do.

Backwards spirals occur when there is a power imbalance to begin with so confronting the other person will not succeed. Imagine a slave confronting their master. Any confrontation is a mark against you. Any complaint a grave injustice.

The path of the triple saint involves three steps which are simple but difficult to perform.

  1. Stop Giving. This is most important.

    You must turn off the flow of giving that you rely on to feel safe. To feel in control and hopeful that you might turn things around.

    The triple saint must stop believing she can change people by loving them. Perhaps this works with plants, animals and babies but it doesn’t with men. Why? I don’t know. My theory is that God designed life in part to sharpen our wits. He doesn’t want us to be potatoes getting everything we want with hugs & smiles. And so he made darkness & men & the law of the jungle was born.

    Anyway, here are the reasons you must stop giving…

    a) To give up the dream that you can change people with love. So long as you see yourself as the cause and controller of other people’s behavior you cannot see them clearly. Without seeing your environment clearly, it is impossible to make wise choices.

    b) Giving entangles you. You cannot truly feel great about constantly giving to someone who mistreats you. So you will end up feeling upset. This will eventually leak or explode out and become evidence of what a bad person you were all along.

    c) Giving entangles you. You cannot truly feel happy about giving to someone who mistreats you. You will want them to change & will eventually express this in some form. This will make them feel controlled.

    c) Giving entangles you. The more you give the more you are associated with the person’s problems. The problems you are trying to solve. So when blame comes down the pipe, you will be the first one hit.

    d) Giving places you in the parent role. Whatever unresolved parent issues he has will be placed onto you. He starts expecting you to be responsible for everything, including his feelings. And at the same time you will be unappreciated and invisible as a person in your own right. Like a mom. You are a source of support and a place to dump negativity.

    e) When you become the parent, he becomes the child. It’s not safe for men to regress into childlike roles, dues to their natural aggression which needs to be controlled through a sense of personal responsibility.

    f) Men are rewards driven. When you give in response to bad behavior, you incentivize it. If you try to heal pain, you incentivize pain. If you cater to mental illness, you incentivize insanity.

    g) Giving is a drug that eases anxiety. Until you stop, you won’t really know what feelings you are running away from or be able to address them.

    f) Giving depletes your resources. And you are going to need them. Maybe you can’t stop the attacks, but you can be strong when they occur.

  2. Give to yourself. Maybe you are the person you can actually change.

    You probably fear you will be attacked if you invest in yourself. Maybe you will be. But you will be attacked anyway. Investing in yourself will make you stronger, more able to withstand, and a less appealing target.

    Men- unlike women- never treat people well for being nice. They respect power. Having more of it is your best hope for good treatment.

    And even if it doesn’t change how you are treated it gives you more options.

    Giving to yourself can mean different things. What holes do you have that you are hoping this man will fill? Can you fill them yourself?

    Are you seeking romantic feelings? Touch? Money? Friendship? A garbage man? Someone to compliment your eyes your thighs? If you can figure out what you are needing you can start trying to resolve your own neediness. Use your energy to fill your own holes. Stop trying to fill his holes. They might not be what you think they are anyway, since men tend to hide their true needs & feelings while projecting out false vulnerabilities for their enemies to strike.

    If you are with him for sex, buy a vibrator. Money, get a job. Self-esteem, start praising yourself. Romance, buy scented candles & lie under a flower bush.

  3. Lastly, what should the triple saint do when attacked? Don’t fight back or defend. Their goal is for you to be bad. They have more power than you or you wouldn’t be here. Any battle is a loss for you.

    See attacks as weather. A cold breeze is touching you. A piece of hail falls on your head. Take shelter or curl into a ball but don’t fight. There’s nothing to fight. What’s happening has nothing to do with you. It hurts so bad to be powerless to change things, powerless to make things better. It hurts to have love withdrawn after you have made all life choices around the idea it would always be there. But saints were born to hurt. Just hold on to the idea that there is another world where you are loved. A perfect world. Rest there silently until the storm passes.


Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

The Way of the Double Saint

What is a double saint? Is it someone who performs twice as many good deeds as a regular saint?

No. The problem with regular saints is they push themselves too hard. To serve. To be good. They strive. And so pressure builds up inside. One day they blow and to prison they go. This is what we call the saint paradox.

The double saint seeks to avoid this paradox by striving less, but also being less at the same time. When you are nothing, you don’t annoy people as much. Then it takes fewer good deeds to repay them for tolerating your existence.

In this post I will assume you want to become a double saint to get along better with a man. If not, adjust accordingly.

Here is the path of the double-saint.

  1. In all things think vapor. You are no longer a person. You are a vapor. Always ask yourself “What would a vapor do in this situation?”
  2. Speak less or not at all. A vapor listens and absorbs.
  3. If you do speak, make it short, light and pleasing. Even praise should not be heavy handed. Coming on strong- even in a positive sense- requires the other person to be aware of your presence, which is taxing to their mind. Just one dandelion puff of uplifting words will do the trick.
  4. Never question, criticize, disagree or weigh in on any subject unless asked. Why would a vapor do this? If you are in a car with a man who is driving off a cliff, you go off the cliff too. Wordlessly. You are a vapor. You will be fine.
  5. Do nice things for the man. However do not strain yourself doing nice things or you will reach the saint’s paradox. Do nice things you enjoy doing, so that you don’t need him to notice or appreciate them. Needing to be appreciated would be a tax. The double saint strives to be completely untaxing and always relaxing.
  6. Remove standards & expectations. A double saint must not only avoid putting pressure on the man, she must remain unpressurized herself. Do not hold him to any standards and if this makes it difficult to uphold standards yourself then let them blow away.

    Do not become saintly by performing a mega house cleaning. Become double saintly by not caring. Once again this prevents the build up of emotional pressure that will eventually cause you to express yourself.

    7. Be pleased by pleasing yourself. If men see you are pleased, they will take credit for it and be happy. If you tell them how to please you they will feel bossed. So learn how to please yourself in all ways while crediting your happiness to him.

    8. Release objective reality. The double saint must never expect another person’s words to align with objective reality. Do not feel tangled up when words are false, nonsensical, self-contradictory etc. Just hear words as clouds of modern poetry beholden to neither rhyme nor reason. What is a word, but a tiny bird that a cloud once thought they might have heard? In this way you float gently through skies of lies without being tangled in a single knot.


    Are you getting the idea? The saint strives, feels like the man isn’t holding up his side of the bargain & gets frustrated. She expresses this & ends up in the hospital. The double saint doesn’t care what the man does. She is able to not care by remaining in a non-pressurized state. She is able to be non-pressurized by removing expectations & activities that pressurize her.

    Is a double-saint the same as a slacker? Not at all. To remain a vapor requires great discipline. She twas loose as a goose when they slipped on the noose. She received all abuse while remaining diffuse. Tho she lacks the vigor of the regular saint & is unlikely to slay dragons, her strength lies in equanimity. She knows her soul is immortal and therefore no problem will be the end of her.

    And what does the double saint do when treated unjustly? What if she is yelled at, blamed or punished for a crime she didn’t commit? How can she avoid that natural emotion of anger or the desire to stand up for herself which she must avoid at all cost? What if she is stolen from, betrayed, raped and beaten, how does she retain her vaporous personality even then?

    This is a tough one and I don’t know the answer. Just recognize that no one can be perfectly saintly, much less double-saintly. Try stress gummies, vallium and- in cases of verbal attack- attempt to discreetly cover your ears. If this is impossible, write down the words and turn them into a rhyme.

    Why are you so dumb, you stupid cunt?
    When in yonder field the falcons doth hunt?

    Feel better now?
Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Uncategorized Writings

Black

My two weakest colors are red and black.

I’ve made great strides with red in recent years, being more willing to express myself, ruffle feathers etc.

Red lets you stick your neck out, take action, fight. Not care what anybody thinks.

Black also deals with conflict and enemies. But the sorts of enemies you can’t fight straight on. Maybe they hide & use deception so you don’t know where to swing. Maybe they dominate you to the point that fighting back would be suicidal. Maybe they have you leveraged, black mailed, so that you must follow their will to protect to ones you care about.

Red is a boxing match where both people get bloody. Black is getting raped when you’re drugged & tied down. There is nothing you can do. You can’t move.

People always say be assertive and stand up for yourself. People are so naive. In situations where standing up for oneself is an option, most people will take it. But people usually won’t victimize you until they have you in a situation where fighting back will be difficult or even impossible. They attack when they are fully leveraged.

War is red and black. Red is the brawn and black is the brains. Force + deception.

Men overpower women because they have more red. You can’t fight a man. But they have more black as well. Their brains instinctively think in a strategic fashion, calculating how their moves position them power-wise in relation to their opponents. Women tend to assume others are on the same page as them until shown otherwise.

Black knows we are not all one. We don’t share the same will. Others are not who they appear to be. They may be indifferent to harming us or they may get off on it. To be safe you must always keep a touch of black in your pocket- one independent wit that reminds you to never trust completely.

This is hard for me. Maybe for all women. I’ve always wanted to merge with someone to feel safe and loved. And when I feel threatened I focus on trusting more, following more closely the will of whomever I feel threatened by in the hopes of appeasing them. I try to be nicer in the hopes of winning their love. I appeal to their sympathy. It never works. When people are in black mode empathy has turned off. Being nice does not keep you safe. The most gentle animals get eaten first. Survival is selfish. It goes after the easiest target.

Black is boundaries. But what are boundaries? Too often we think of boundaries as ‘standing up for yourself.’ “Hey Lion! Don’t eat me! I’m NOT okay with that.” But unless we have a machine gun these ‘boundaries’ are pretty pointless. People are not going to obey our will just because we verbalize it. They obey their own.

Boundaries are really a state of awareness in which you can separate your own will from the wills of those around you. You know your own mind & do not project the contents of your mind onto others. You attempt to see them as they truly are.

When you project positive or negative glamours onto others you blur the distinction between you & them. Imagination & reality. This is a no boundary state. Boundaries mean seeing yourself & others as the two distinct- and possible opposed- entities that you truly are.

Without this clear psychic separation, you end up carrying out the wills of others without realizing it. You are unable to act in your own best interests. But when there is a willingness to see the truth of yourself and the truth of others, thinking automatically becomes more strategic because it starts to line up with reality. Not sentiments.

With black, you know your aim and you know your opponent. You know when telling the truth is useful and when deceit is the only option. Unlike red, you do not try to win every battle. You know some battles must be lost to win the war. You wait. You bend over. You take it up the ass. You say you like it. You wait some more. And when your moment of opportunity comes you are ready.

Patt
Patton wearing his favorite “Trust Me” tshirt. You can trust him. Would he lie to you?