Irish Malchut Of Ireland, Beit Of God...

An Accident

2006-07-27T19:32:00.000-07:00

SHOW QUEEN ADALIA MY 'LIFESTYLE' HERE, SHE HAS A BREAKDOWN

AND WE MAKE LOVE WITH MINDS

NOW HAVE A BABY IN MY WOMB..........NOW MOST SACR

I HAVE NO WHERE TO GO, NEED HELP CALL A RABBI I NEED A BLUE PLACE TO ,LIVE IN

HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO AN HAREDI GIRL NAMED EMER
SHE HAS DIED
I MAKE HER LAUGH

'ARE YOU FAT?' AS SHE IS KLINING, 'NO I AM NOT FAT'

SHE WAS THE WOMAN ON THE PLANE WHO OFFERED TO BRING ME HELP MONTHS AGO

I HAVE SEEN HER LAST NIGHT AS SHE WAS DYING IN LONDON, THEY CALL ME TOO PIG

SHE HAS DOES NOT THINK GOD WILL FORGIVE ME FOR WRITING THIS, THOUGH SHE SAYS SHE WILL LOVE ME FOR ALL TIME

SHE IS BEAUTIFUL

I HAVE GIVEN HER A BABY IN HEAVEN, SHE HAS NAMED HIM ALKAZAR...

HAD NO IDEA WHAT HAD BEEN HAPPENING IN THE VISIONS LAST NIGHT

I AM EXHAUSTED FROM PRAYING HER BACK TO LIFE, PREVENTING THE FALL OF SOMEONE ELSE

APPEALING TO THE HIGHEST

KNOW THAT MEN WILL PRAY HER TOO SKY DO NOT

IMPOSSIBLE TO MOURN HER WITH BABY

AM BEING THREATENED WITH DEATH
..................................

MEN HAVE KILLED THREE OF MY WIVES IN ENGLAND FROM WHAT THEY CALL KYING WITH MINDS

2006-07-19T06:31:00.000-07:00

the doctors are coming to lock me away this morning

i am the king of ireland

i need to run

please get men to send for help

the woman i love died and has not been reported

the police will be here

i will be in basildon hospital

i have spoken to god

my mum heard me practice gaelic and aramaic out loud

Men Will Ride Tonight

2006-07-15T21:25:00.000-07:00

HEAR THIS A MESSAGE FROM THE KING OF IRELAND, MY MEN WILL RIDE TONIGHT TO SAVE SOULS...

I HAVE CALLED IRELAND AND FINLAND

PLEASE REMAIN CALM MEN WILL SEE GOOD SOULS

I HATH WRITTEN TO YOU IN TIME

THE MEN WILL GO TO HEAVEN

WE ARE CALLING THEM TONIGHT

WE CALL YOU TO LIFE

THE MEN ARE CRYING TONIGHT

How God Wants Us to Shine...

2006-07-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

i see my great great etc. grandfather Dov Ber in the garden, and he sits on the bench and i see his heart falling out of his body and how he cares and how he wants to me to go to the men, and be a man like him

following reports:

I have five children in Heaven, I am expecting 10...two here, and how do i tell her i love her when she is 3000 miles away from and how in the midst of this war she desperately needs to get to england though i have opnly 100 pounds left or a little more, and i need to keep sane here in this house, though the tv reports everything i say to my wives and the reds may be winning...how a man talks about erhu being dead on nationwide tv, and a woman in the newsagents says she will pray for though I explain she is an Immortal....

How a woman called me from Southern Ireland yesterday, as my eyes were shining back and forth from all her calling, how she screams she is crying to God, how the Catholic men are starting to get militant on women again...

please forward this as an email to trustful men....and women....

following reports written in a hurry: the hijack that was not reported on a plane, Gilad Shalits death, unreported:

(written earlier in a hurry)

I SAY WE LOVE GOD!!!

THERE IS SO MUCH TO WRITE HERE, HOW DO I EXPLAIN HOW I CAN FLY BUTTERFLIES TO MY DAUGHTER AS SHE SITS DOWN TO READ A BOOK...??

HOW THE WINGS I FLY ARE RED AND WHITE??

HOW I KNOW FROM LAST WEEK THAT THE ISRAELI SOLDIER GILAD IS DEAD YET WENT TO HEAVEN, AND BECAUSE when I MENTION HIM I MAKE HIM VOMIT??

HOW WE LAUGH, HOW

HOW A LOCAL WOMAN REPORTED TO ME (ON THE MIND TELEPHONE) THAT MEN WANTED TO KILL ME, AND WHEN SHE CALLED THE POLICE THEY DID NOTHING YET THOSE FEAR MEN HERE THAT WERE THREATENING TO KILL ME HAVE GONE BLIND, HOW I SAW THEM GRAB THEIR EYES CRYING...

HOW I CALLED THE WOMAN I LOVED A MAD GIRL, YET HEARD A WOMAN WHO WAS AND ASKED HER TO REMEMBER HER NAME AND HER AGE, AND FLEW FLYING BOTTLES TO HER, AND THEN OPENED THE DOOR TO THE PRISON SHE HAD BEEN LOCKED UP IN IN KURDISTAN AND MADE SURE THE MEN WOULD NOT SEE HER, AND LET HER QUIETLY WALK OUT AND FIND HER FAMILY WHERE SHE IS NOW SAFE...LET HER SEE MY WINGS SHINE WHITE, Yet I have made her perhaps a little ill from mentioning her name all day:

HOW I HAVE BEEN TOO 'ON THE TELEPHONE' THESE LAST TWO DAYS, HOW

I HEAR WOMEN ON PLANES

TWO NIGHTS I HEARD A WOMAN ON A PLANE SCREAMING MY NAME TO SAVE HER DAUGHTERS LIFE, YET I BARELY KNEW WHAT TO DO, AND PRAYED HER CALM, AND THEN HAD THE IDEA TO FELL THE MEN, GIVE HIM VISIONS OF HELL AND THEN A HEART ATTACK HOW I WORRIED HOW HIJACKS WOULD HAPPEN HERE FOR DAYS...HOW IT HAS NOT BEEN REPORTED IN THE PAPERS...HOW I TALKED TO HER BABY AS SHE CLIMBED THE STAIRS TO HEAVEN, HOW I GO MAD AND ASKED HER IN HEBREW 'DO YOU KNEEL TO GOD?' HOW SHE NOW PLAYS WITH THE BABIES THERE

HOW I TALKED TO HER MOTHER AND SHE SAID I PUT I SPELL ON THE MAN, HOW I WENT THROUGH TOWN AND HAVE BEEN TOO 'I KILLED AN EVIL ARAB' WHEN I SHOULD KEEP IT QUIET...

VERY MAD, AND FIND THIS ALL HARD TO KEEP UNDER CONTROL

HOW I CAN MAKE A FIRE SHINE DIFFERENT COLOURS??

KEEP HOPE AND LOVE...

HOW I HAVE LITTLE MONEY LEFT AND CAN NO LONGER REMAIN HERE

HOW my FAMILY DRIVE ME MAD...

HOW I SIT ON THE THRONE AND HAVE PROMISED NOT TO THROW< WHICH MEANS NOT THROUGH MY BODY AROUND NOT THROW MY HEART, MY LIGHT, I EVEN OFFER MY EGGS TO PEOPLE!!! HOW I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR MY FAMILY MENTION DEBBILS!!! BECAUSE THEY BRING A DARKNESS IN, AND I AM FIGHTING MANY THINGS AND GETTING ILL....

THIS IS A CALL TO THE HEBREW FOR HELP...I HAVE ALSO BEEN GIVEN TIME...

I FIND IT HARD TO WRITE...

I NEED A QUIET HOME I WHICH TO LIVE...PLEASE THIS IS AN URGENT REQUEST...

MANY OTHER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED I HAVE BEEN PRAYING CONSTANTLY TO KEEP FRIENDS SANE,

2006-07-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

lots has been happening these last few days...

how do i explain that men have been condemned due to many unfortunate circumstances, this is an emergency>>>>>

the goyim have found out the names of the queens and they are talking them....

also i have been given the throne

men will FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I NEED SOMEWHERE TO LIVE....I HAVE NO MONEY...

she flies black wings, she flys white wings...

i am too throw myself i throw my womb, i found out when i had prayed for england that i fly red and white wings,

lately i have been too eye...

she has another two babies, and

my soul is crying for gods, so much has happened, i went med...i am forbidden to take my pills

i want to write that men have been given TIME

yet my life here is an emergency
i want someone i love very much to come to england as SOON AS POSSIBLE

i have soi much love for all of them, i am not cracking up

i need to let men know i have been [ppraying these last few weeks in secrecy and my famly think i am mad...this is just an emergency

i have the blood of dov ber

i am married into the royal family

we are souls

the reds here worry my babies...in fact i am finding it very hard to cope yet i wwant to be striong for all of them

i will write veyr sooon
#
at dawn my wife and i fried eggs, i found it very hard to no hit myself over the head with a frying pan...

POLLY DIED, I HEARD HER DYING, AND PRAYED HER SOUL TO GODS, SHE GAVE ME A KNOCK KNOCK ON THE DOOR, AND SAID
'IM MAGIC TOO.'

SHE WAS DRIVING HERE TO PICK ME UP FROM DORSET

WE ARE FINE WE HAVE TOO BABIES, BETHANY AND DOVID JACK, THOUGH I PREFER JACK DOVID...BETHANY LOOKS JUST LIKE HER MUM, AND JACK HAS FAIR HAIR LIKE ME...

I WANT TO LIVE WITH HER HERE THOGUH I STILL LOVE HER, I LIVE WITH HER THERE...

I HAVE BEEN FINDING IT HARD TO TALK TO EVERYONE...

THERE HAS BEEN SO MUCH GOING ON LATELY I WILL WRITE AGAIN LATER...

I NEED SOME HELP...

hOW TO WRITE SOUL

2006-07-10T13:33:00.000-07:00

i have nowhere to go...this is of the utmost importance

I am currently talking to a man named Dovid who tells me the men have said no, i have been ordered by King David...

THIS IS MY THRONE..IN THE LAST FEW DAYS, I HAVE BEEN PRAYING TO GOD...MY FAMILY KEEP MENTIONING THE 'DEBBIL' AND IT BRNIGS IT IN...

I NEED TO LET YOU KNOW GOD HAS ASKED US TO SHINE, AND THERE WILL BE MY BURIAL TONIGHT,

I AM OF THE TRIBE OF GAD...

GIVE TIME TO GOD

I NEED TO CRY TO GOD...

HE WILL FREE MY SOUL

THIS HAS BECOME TOO SIGN...

A Problem

2006-06-23T17:15:00.000-07:00

to men with King Dovid, and God and Jesus, and I the King Of Ireland...

how to heal the world, while men kill the world? I have objectionable practical reasons for why this will not work, a woman told me she wishes god to rise, i say i dont know how, how to make men believe i have been crowned and annointed, how to find men and women with god...

i want to see men dance in a line, clapping their hands saying, the son in law has found a new queen with god!...and yesterday i hear news i have given Israel, how Jesus would forgive me for being gay, so why worry? and i don't just, i worry, about everything getting out of control, when we are so far away from each other, as though pragmatic is best...and it fills my heart and i am full, yet something always breaks it...

and poetic white linen over my body, and her tears, and her the other her...

bring my family back to god, find work, go to a family with god, never lay around in bed

i have hidden myself for too long, now what?

i have so many ideas, to create, and to realise the miracle Wei Mu and I have created...write to a female rabbi, make ideas, create frescos of the people i see, picnic...

a 'shost'

they tell me, men will write...

good fortune: today we are happy/ in the 1920's gay mean't happy.

God is good: if you could ask for one miracle or more, what would it be?

I await a miracle that has already occurred, in march, everything in my life will either be turned full volume or become tranquil...and tranquil is best...

the sounds in my room in April will be blessed by a third soul...

imagine you are one, unified in flesh to your partner, as Matthew 19 verse 4 says...and what if you were told your partner is both? and how would events conspire if you could not find her, yet she was often there....? JUST LIKE GOD.

imagine if you are two souls, like they say God is, feminine and masculine...
and parthenogenesis...a science that since 1980 has been worked on by both french and japanese...

on April 21st, Mr. Kono, found two mummy mice, put half their chromosomes together from each egg, and created a female baby that could go on to have more babies...
I think about how I feel her in my womb, which I believe means my words affect her, how she grows, what she will be like, but mummy is drinking juice, and already getting morning sickness, and my words float down into that space in my belly, yet I think I forget 'be good'. 'be god'.

i think about a battle I fought two days ago...a black shadow of an evil cat in the shape of a man, pulling at her hair, stamping on her head, kicking me in the face, forcing us apart from each other, how to sit there crosslegged praying while I see him/It isn't enough, and I have a dagger in my hand, and force it into a shoulder blade, push him back off her against a wall, and explode him with light...more of them come whilst I move myself to the floor with a towel on my head, more prayer, and more prayer from a girl that hears me in Israel...I put white petals in her bed, I holler quietly like a native american and tell her to wait because she cannot see, she can only hear me shout DIE!! and THE POWER OF GOD! as I spin into the air and kick him in the chest, as I watch her lay there quietly in the white petals, I still see his shadow walk behind her, I stab him in the leg, I pull at his ankles, nine of them, they fall into balls of dust, I put their death into my head, to protect the house, yet am told to pull that out...

I am in this bed I have made on the wooden floor, covered in one sheet, and It has scuttled across the floor like a lightening rat...

when the girl finishes her hebrew prayer, we are safe in our own zone, and I tell her as my eyes flash green, and turn my face to the pillow and whisper that hers are too blue...

I cover her in the sheet, my left arm over her chest and her soul, and tell her, i have put blue hurt into her, or rather that I have that myself, and ask her to send me a light through my body like pink love...

'i want you to love me.'

and she does...

and then found:

http://www.kabbalaonline.org/MajorConcepts/destiny/Uniting_Two_Souls.asp

http://www.kabbalaonline.org/MajorConcepts/personalities/Jewish_Royalty.asp

REVELATION:

AS WELL AS CHINOIS BLOOD, I ALSO HAVE RABBI'S BLOOD, AS I SAID TO SARAH MARRIED BLOOD...DO NOT BE CONFUSED WHEN I SAY I LIKE RED RABBI'S. IT WAS MARRIED BLOOD...BE QUIET AND HE'LL TELL ME HIS NAME...FROM SPAIN:

CONFUSION WILL FIND OUT LATER,

his name is...dov -------...???????

a song for the first on this earth Hebrew Girl whom I love too: Out in The Black-Imaad Wasif...

hope you can find it...I'm gone. x

How The Queen Of Ireland Died And Returned To Me

2006-06-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

This angel I saw in the worse moments of my life, the dark wavy haired young woman with bright torchlike blue eyes, written about here before, and always the vision I believed to be an angel and kept my Love of God since I last met her four years ago...

She returned two days, ago, and we were married...I have spoken to her mother, I explained to her, how I am a man there, (I have the same eyes as I do now), how we agreed giving Breeg a baby would be good... she died four years ago...I was 18, she was 22, she lived in Northern Ireland, I remember visions of that same time when I went mad, and saw men run up to my bedroom, and the dressing gown and hanger on the door creating a crucifix...she was killed by Orange Men in a car...for the last week or so, she has been arriving to an old man (dai-yu) called Dovid, who has been lean't the Mirror (think of it like Galdriel looking through a pool of water to Earth) by Adel, (Who tells me in a storm she loves me and I love Polly too thunder and lightening and messages from me, like Men here have no fear, a storm just stopped occurring, including a message to the dog to stay indoors and my sister arrving telling me shut up) to carry on annoying me that 'men were being the devil' (like I said and should have stopped at when I spoke to P..(told her everything about men from hell, feel ill)...something we agree on but which has been making me ill...she siad if she had met me then she would have told me I looked like the devil, or rather I look too in mourning or like a witch, she was catholic, she liked heavy metal, taller than me, loud...the way I've been feeling for four years, is, well, written here from the beginning...see other blog...

I asked her if she would have liked me then, she replied she wasn't gay and she would have told me to get 'fucked'...I said, going 'Boy-rish' on her (and too fenian apparently) would she liked to get married? 'alright !' the wedding was a celtic affair, the only reason I have no memory is becasue of the 'devil pills', medication I am forced to take...(I'm writing like a dog says my little sister, or rather Bridgit)...we spoke last night even though I wanted to get to sleep, and she talked with me, and sometimes I feel myself turn into that man, and just let us float on a white bed, imaging being watched from the skies...and Adel, our song, how I flew to her....and that makes four, ha...forgetting a girl I nearly got locked up for, for sending a letter to the wrong house, broken her heart, she's disappeared...

I await a lost letter from PJ...

THE STORM: THAT MAKES ONE IN DORSET< ONE HERE< ONE SOMEWHERE ELSE....

Dai-Yu...

He came to me in a vision as I cried about Polly on the wooden floor, while my parent's were away in France...having got Orly to contact her in NYC...

Extracts from quick notes I have scrawled from last two weeks:

WHO DAI YU WAS AND HOW ON HIS DEATHBED HE TOLD HIS MEN HE WAS WITH CHRIST...
Dai-Yu (Dovid) was jewish, and perhaps I always guessed that since I met him (right eyed panda scral around my eye, suspecting this was indeed not a tibetan monk) Jonathan was one of his men, a man who also cried at the wall, he says before Dai yu died he told he was with Christ...(I call him whislt he is in the middle of a crying breakdown), they are from the settlements, they are in fear of the far right.....I told him of a girl I had also spoken to, how she will be drafted into the army soon, how she wants GOD TO RISE, (and I have no idea how) I told him I aksed her to reread parts of the psalms, how to think about what she wants to dow ith her life, wonder what she will do (and more, my nose, the covering over of my body...) she told me she had forgetten the Torah, and I hope she read the wedding song for polly and i as i could not manage to even when a man appeared in my room and ordred me to)...

I suggested he contact the Messianics, yet he is in fear of his life...he could not believed Dai Yu had lied to me, and I could not believe, I had been with polly, and rude to him whilst he lay on his deathbed (One day as I spoke to him, I told him she was playing the piano, I could see her and hear a little, he replied it would have been good to be there to listen, she spoke to him too and we explained a few things...I realised he was dying when he told me he could die now (excuse this bad writing I am irritated too easily) and I ran out of the garden to cry, and heard 'he remembers his kiss' perhaps that kiss from his wife whom he loved) I told Jonathan I was like Dai Yu, from the Story Of The Stone (two houses in imperial china eventually are destroyed through corruption and love), from crying all the time...I told him too soon that David was in the other world...

The King has said that men have been given time, and I belive Dai YU was sent to me through Him...

I contacted Jonathan when Adel told me his men were going through hell...I have also spoken to a girl who remembered me from a cafe, as she was praying I asked her to just look at the wall and meditate, she says no-one thinks of nothing)

My parents still claim I am mad, my Dad is even more so, will write the above soon...

a hebrew girl crying on a plane about how she heard me and someone and Matayana Orly talk in a cafe in ,my mind in Dorset (I ran off, dorset notes:

the announcement in Waterloo, (a thank the lord from a young woman in the station as I sat reading and sepaking, ruined the man by ending it with perhaps he is on drugs) (thats a message to the whole of south england)

the congratulations about the marriage from Miss Winehouse (a singer, yes jewish too) in Trafalgar Square...(alos she thought of me, thinking I look too young, and I heard her, and explained about Other Worlds 'Sheeeeett!!!', and: that pig with me kept going on about Irish worlds)

the pushing into a wall by Erhu (who now prefers to be called Arwen) for talking about God to Mohammdin)

the singing in Leicester Square from Miss Harvey

And the awful suprise of a picture taken of me by a woman...

NOTES: PRAYED FOR P, feeling I had shot her soul somewhere, and got into a 'nightmare (?)@ OR RATHER:

A CONVERSATION WITH MY STUARTS BLOOD IN FRANCE, they are fine, glad to know...spoke in tired french to them...

(Orly finds it hysterical to hear mummy write 'hear me ride' as I sit in Dorset having breakdowns in her hometown, unable to find her, and I explain to him about how I could have ridden a horsey in Jerusalem, yet would perhaps been shot in the head:

'A jewish man would shoot you!??!' No, those are our men...

'They call Irish men pakis!??' that was a stupid man...

now, I'm 'dead', end of blog...things have calmed in this storm now,

plus the joy of Arwen/Erhu to hear a friends band on Saturday scream for God...(which gave eveyrone else a headache)
and young 'rudeboys' claiming they are The Prophet, including the MC's whom I duet-ted with:

BRING BACK THE LOVE

a refrain, that they wished to discontinue singing...

and the hebrew girl is fine, yet says Jews For Jesus shop is not recommended in LONDON...

when I really do need to find a good Hebrew man to talk this through with, 'pronounced KABBALAH MADAME, NOT, kar bar lah....'

meanwhile, I have no flat, and I may be murdered there because of an atmosphere in town, and my parents are threatening to lock me up...

2006-06-03T21:53:00.000-07:00

And after all that I married Polly.

Praying For The City

2006-06-03T00:28:00.000-07:00

Men went mad in NYC, much as they did here, shouting from their cars, so I eventually prayed them, 'men away' and white lights, didn't know that one prayer could be so simple after this 'curse'.

conversation I write down as it happens, trying to relax in the first days of sunshine, at a garden table with my new diary notebook, and a cup of tea, feeling calm yet, exhausted from all this 'mess':

'the men in cars are quoting Nietzsche, you shit!'

'you're telling me men don't fear God here.'

'It's best to go out!'

'you're being spics.'

'they're telling me their in the blackhand hand gang.'

If you're hearing English, Yes!'

'WHITE HAND GANG.'

'Now they're coming out with white hand gang.'

'don't let me shout.'

........

'You're a pig!'

'Then I'll rub my nose.'
'Don't shout.'

'It turns pig.'

'Goodnight.'laughter

'You think we need to be in good mourning?'

'They're telling me you're the devil!'

'Stop screeching, have you got an I-Ching.;

'I've got a bible.'

'may be worse.'

'this is a curse.' outside

'Did I say that or did you.'

-----missing good words......

'I'll read a good book.'

'good.'

.................

'I'm hearing this man has wasted me.'

'You know what I think.'

'I'm not a man.'

'You're being a girl!'

...............

Colours in my brain

'you were hearing me sing.'
good,

'when I cry I sing.'

.................

'they pack my bags.'

'What?'

.................

And then not quite sure what I was doing, perhaps flipping and shouting too loudly, like bad magic, or messengers bringing love letters that got caught in laziness, or a belief that the song she sang, had been sung to them, like mad dogs in love in the bright summer's heat unable to get out of their cars and talk to her themselves, I MEAN men that knew she there in that hotel room, words repeated on the radio?, LOVE, fear during these times?, repeating words from God, that SHOULD be words of God, ME not quietly reading, but hollering about poinsonous flies in the market place as I walked too and fro in the kitchen, perhaps any of that, 'whatever', too much energy, I put my hands together, leaning over the rusty silver table, a hood and a coat over me, in the balmy weather, with some frost, and tried to pray, the lights flashed in front of my eyes, and I mumbled words in English, and then, immediately: 'men away.' and they had gone, quietened down...

I think praying for someone else works best, than prayers for oneself, because something like that had happened here, and it went on for too long, and yesterday she prayed for me to relax before an appointment and I could feel it...and a man appeared in my room, and said 'give her a wedding song.' and I didn't know how to...

I've given up reading Nietzsche, I only have a pocket book version, and I get too theatrical with it when I hear insults...

Then you know what my baby Orly and Erhu, finding her does, just didn't know she was there.

He has drawn some good pictures, pictures with his mind that float into mine, and this time with my eyes closed I have even heard his voice, everyone lately has been talking about mogs, so he has drawn some, witches with big hooked chins and thin hooked noses, much like you see in old paintings from a few centuries ago...

And she met me in a dream, and I asked her to describe the dream to me, we both sat down on a settee, and I told her we are free, yet that I had gone too 'jack', she said that man seemed like a worried ghost, that Orly arrived (second name, chosen after some time, best for him to have a Hebrew name, Yana, 'Mat', after Mr.Groning of Simpsons fame) and he tells her 'we are free' and she can be his mummy too, and he took us into a scene where we were swimming in the sea, and she watched me turn red and shimmer, as though all this is hurting me, or someone is angry with me...

Adel shakes her fists at me, (i have had so many visions I cannot write them all down, I have met a man I believe is a Tibetan Monk, there has been lots of explaining to give, as he believes almost evverything in this modern world is too devil, how men kill...how I should give men and women I meet three tries) she's not angry about 'us', but angry that I have done nothing here, while men of God work, and I find it hard to know what to do in this town as I have suffered some hate crime, only from walking down to the shops, being called names for having my head covered...

Men have been given Time...and sometimes I have to forgive men when she can't...

enough, another worried rush of writing....

LIGHT

2006-05-28T15:12:00.000-07:00

two seconds break through on the telephone,
two seconds left to feel light, two seconds of mistaken words
and spies...

i find it funny how my words can falter in three
rice, lice, rice, lice

i find it funny baking tea and discussing scones
rice, lice, rice, lice

I find it funny how kings are kept quiet
and squires never appear

planes are plain on the plains of spain
insane and vain
rice and lice

The discussion:

As I wander through the town I feel foolish again, looking for life yet in trouble I feel from wiritng my last post and the disussion behind the Dome, I buy a coffee, the girl who works behind the counter is asked a question, is it stressful for her to work here, she replies it is, but she can handle it, NOT her exact words,her workmate replies if I talk to her againg she will feel much better, I will go to talk to her again, I tell I could not handle the stress myself as I blame myself for standing too near a woman that spills her tea on the counter for being electric or some such...borrow a lighter from a woman talking to her friend next to me, Erhu has got into her head and she is talking about God again...don't blame Erhu,...I have books in my bag, the dreaded Dumas, told I should read that, I feel it is devilish, gets too black on me reading about Cucmetto for example, if he was being hidden by a young orphaned soon to be married couple, and YOU were that couple would you hide him nobly OR would you take three thousand francs for his life, ? and then having done the right thing, have him reappear as the brigand who then offers you a bag of gold for your good deed...so, if, badly written...and confusing...so, then read the New Testament, relieves an old woman who stares at me continously whilst I drink coffee,...which is in my jacket pocket, yet as I walk along the road, I feel the book has been cut through, or as though I have been cut in the side...

Whilst, I have this bad feeling, that for one, a cleaner tells me she would be shot in the head in the precinct if she spoke to me, rather unreasonable, and leaves me considering that we are in fact still in Africa, strange, someting to do with fat security guard watching on the cameras and the fact some black women keep calling me and looking at me like I am a lesbian, I walk a long way and go to the takeaway in the rain, there is an emergency, as if we have suddenly all died whilst i walk past cars full of bad men to my auntie's house, i wander past the takeaway look in, walk further then turn back and walk in wanting the 'plainest rice' as I feel now is not the time to eat, i sing a song in mandarin/hebrew that feels like nonsense words as I always add ding dong afterwards, yet I recognise the word: "'Hosanna' pray to God", as I look at the list, the women are on the phone taking orders, they tell each one to pray to Jesus...a small miracle, from humble good women, perhaps that is what they tell the customers to do all the time and I am sure each customer listens to them...

I sit there on the bench, rocking praying almost, staring at a carving of ancient chinese men in robes, smelling bad, like my feet have been put into dog's poo, believing men are claiming my writing about a Queen has been like poop...I guess...or perhaps just shouldn't lay around on the grass in this garden...

I walk to my aunties to eat, Erhu says she will hold my hand there if Aunty gets too black on me, but this doesnt happen, I am polite a possible, Aunty thinks the devl is cool or something, bloody hippies, I can eventually bring myself to talk to the cat, as this cat is MY pet cat, believing there is no devil in this cat...look at Rum Diary's by Hunter S. Thompson, borrow it without telling Jimbo who is away...I am left alone in the house to smoke and eat, while my cousin is upstairs writing an essay, I lay down on the sofa, hands clasped together, I hear the neighbours through the thin walls,

As i talk to Adel, the sun begins to shine through a gap in the curtain, i realise when i get up that hours have passed,

she says the 'nurse is being shut.' NHS?

that Erhu, keeps telling her she is the best! getting on her nerves, and then Adel and I say then we have all adopted the Hong Kong is best! idea from a young girl I am distantly related to...I say Erhu is being a renegade, (there is an old dance song I sing at times, Renegade Master) what with her ordering men dead, etc...getting into people's heads...

we talk for a long time, and she annoints my head...I see her stroke my hair and feel the oil run down my face, down my lips, I feel in another zone whilst I hear people drive past, I feel they are becoming full of light...

the scales have been taken down, and yet we are told we are wailing when really we both work for God...

Then we finish talking, and my cousin upstairs asks me to stay longer as though I need to protect her because: a group of teenagers appears outside, talking about drugs, and more, a young girl, says as i try to sit quietly, that she is a maid! NOT a cleaning maid, the young men argue yet they all talk with each other seperately and loudly getting their own disgusting words out ina competition to annoy whoever they believe is in the house, AND THEN I feel this girl is fighting them, finally standing up to them, I tell her I'm not a guidance consellor, and that I would have kept quiet around boys like that at her age anyway, I reply to her as she walks away, being a maid would have mean't she got into the palace...these kids are weird and full of attitude, and I know they are purposely hanging around outside the house, one of them jumps out with; 'and i will be in the fires of hell'...wth no prompting from me but being full of God's angry words, as they interrupt this...

I feel great yet I go back into black when Mum is sitting there with the TV on, and I am drawing Alfie and the cat Babs, with Orly he tells me the woman he can hear through the TV is a witch, it makes me ill, and I call my mum a bitch as we argue about her not even watching whatever she has on the TV, it puts a headache in me, and I'm calling for righthandedness......and so on with the story...some confusion in that moment...I sit in front of the TV to talk with the 'witch' stroking the dogs ears, yet feel a bit, weird goth man in the manor, spooky, putting his left ear down, 'close your left ear' meaning...

I've written enough, yet again not very well, the above poem has no explanation, just another silly private conversation...

I write Like A Fool, I Live Like Death

2006-05-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

orlando asks me: 'Daddy, why are they calling you a pirate? Why are they saying Atara will be a les?

i ask why are they 'praying' talking to a baby???!!!! it's the men here again???

i talk to him, about pirates, say maybe i look like a pirate...

he says he tells them that I am a Rock,

they are praying the baby dead, do you know what too skies means? too high apparently...

I write like this after talking to The Prophet, yesterday a miracle was performed, this is top secret information, BUT dammit here it is: Using the telephone, I put my mind into, well, I take a holiday to Mecca, or break into the Dome...He tells me as I sit on a chair in the garden, to turn and face a little to the left, the sun is setting, and I feel a pull on my forehead, that turns my voice into that of an older womans...I have no script to hand, no prompting, I say:

'Mohammed Will Return.'

I hear 'the 'Beloved!!!'

Now, either pick my teeth, or tell them:

'No, I am a King.' No specifics, I feel perhaps I am floating above their heads at that precise moment, And I stand up and end the conversation. He tells me the men will go black...He has forgiven me for eating beef a few days ago, I worry about not getting my head back, someone replies don't worry, my mind won't be stuck in the dome, I have heard of many other men and women, some Jewish, who have been invited into the Dome, I have made a miracle, and I am being told to continue writing this despite some fear. NO FEAR.

i have a feeling this WILL BE KEPT QUIET, THIS IS A PROMISE FROM GOD, DESPITE MY FEAR OF THE AMERICANOS, AS THEY ARE KNOW, AND ARE NOW ON THE TELEVISION, I HAVE FEAR FOR THE WOMEN WHO HAVE HEARD THIS, AS I KNOW THIS TOPSECRET INFORMATION HAS BECOME FOOLISH...WE REACH ACROSS A POND, WHERE I FEAR I WILL NEVER WANT TO TRAVEL, AGAIN I AM PUTTING ON AN ALTERIOR ACCENT, i HAVE ALREADY REVEALED AGAINTS THE WISHES OF MANY PEOPLE, GOOD PEOPLE, WHOM SOEVER READS MUST BE TRUSTED TO KEEP SILENT, AS MUCH AS I FAIL TO...

THIS IS AN APPEAL FOR A QUIET HOME, AND A SAFEHOUSE...

IF YOU BELIEVE

THEN BELIEVE MY DISGUISE IS.

I WONDER NOW HOW THESE PEOPLE WHO HEAR ME FEEL, HOW PROGRESS WORKS, WITH THE YOUNG AND OLDER WOMEN WHO HAVE HEARD THIS MESSAGE..

and I have just read the latest news about H and Israel...

i have also told them:

that we wish for peace.

Atara

2006-05-25T18:51:00.000-07:00

Bear with me new readers, perhaps you should go back a few posts to completely understand this story, being married to King Dovid's daughter, being the King of Ireland, (NOT The King Of The Irish, which has other connotations, Ireland is a country, and this is God's gift to me, perhaps I will never be there, perhaps I will), yet being a woman, transmorgifying into a man, some knowledge of Christian Kabbalah, how we have two children Orlando Matayana and the newly born Atara, a painters studio etc. and also being married to a second wife...

Atara was ill, I did hear enough news about her...

Atara is dead...yet I feel men are praying her back...how this happened I am not quite sure, the men around us threaten me, they have been putting 'gay' into this, I am not quite sure what that means, the devil words too near the baby, as when Erhu (hebrew name, I am not sure I can mention:) and I kiss, the men or other men that fly by or drive by on drugs and deformed minds, the people talking to me, they say: nothing, I want to see her face, over the white light, and I do, yet as soon as that she makes the sign of the cross over her face, and then I see a transformation, into negative and then a red eye, and she turns into what I call a black lion, yet is a demon, and she slashes my face... and they hear every word, I can talk to them through the birds in Aramaic Hebrew, yet often I reply two Anglo...I am not Hebrew myself...

Many things have happened, men have been taking drugs, mentioning little Ai Wu's name, a young girl I am partly related to in Hong Kong: 'Hong Kong is best!' she shouts at me last night, flashing my right eye, while I tell her I need balance, and that night I need to talk to Adal, but find it hard to...

I sit in the kitchen and feel depressed whilst it rains, then I hear a voice speak through the television, last night, what they are doing to me, mention about 1945, and then I can hardly hear those words, too busy calling my Dad a pig after an arguement we have, yet trying hard to strain my ears...the television is switched off when I walk into the room, I sit on the sofa, and listen to the rain...'----------------- kid', and then 'be quiet'.

I go to sit into the garden, and hear someone through my soul-centre, 'I walk behind you.' She tells me I am 'good.' Essentially, I suppose. I tell her I will talk to hear that night, and I go to bed early...

I see another woman as I lie in bed, writing a book, she is turning through the pages with a pen in her hand, she tells me the book she is writing about me is too full of Death...and then I get a slap round the head, or just the image of it, and she shouts at me and tells me to 'TRY'!!...

So, how, Do I try now?

I have little money and debts, and Orlando finds it funny that I ate ants in my volvic bottle today, yet as soon as I did that I ran upstairs to read Chinese poetry, and another man flew by and threatened that he would tell 'some 'certain' men' I am gay, yet Erhu has ordered him dead, and we are near too many damned souls, she had been locked up for that, we do not want this to happen again...

I apologise I find it hard to write in this environment...I am still waiting for letters...

THE STORY OF AI WU

2006-05-23T16:00:00.000-07:00

first: the story of erhu

starting this with, yesterday morning, and the troubles bad men and i get myself into.TV head sister, who will not be given the blame for it is I who find it impossible to leave the house, put
on the TV while I was reading a book and dribbling shredded wheat down my chin.

A man screams through the television as he hears me read, he has a certainly abrupt over reaction to the
young woman sitting in the kitchen talking about God, this 'devil man' begins a shouted lie, that he hears
this young woman claiming she is calling her self Arthur, perhaps she was really thinking about Italian Art
and how she may paint some good art. Sits there with a broken beaten face, and then hears second wife, tell
her/him with much joy she has ordered this man dead. And how? I merely call him a prat, she gets into the
brain of another young man and he has a breakdown over what this devil man has done. She finds this
hilarious, yet Adel and I are rather annoyed, so in the midst of our breakdowns I ask Erhu to talk to
Adel...
I speak to her last night, and she says Erhu has sauntered into the room telling her she has ordered a man
dead. This is after I leave a public announcement that Adel is dying, of course we talk and we joke about
an island in London I call Paddywaters, an island that actually exists in the middle of London where
Artists live and ducks play in the waters, there is a pontiac bridge, turning into a giant half submerged
spindle which constantly tunrs towards the island, a man can walk across it and without falling jump to
shore, yet, as he does keep falling he suddenly gets run over by the barges that sail through, then, he
meets two women and buries his head in the sand, eventually walking towards a house to take tea with an
artist in a blue smock. The island is actually called Pie bald, no, pie island...
Two nights previously, Adel is annoyed, i am lying in bed, she says the dog lying like a fat cat on the bed
pointing out the devils that drive by the house, a calming game, that this 'little man whom she calls Frig,
won't leave her alone...this gives me a nightmare I can handle, and I try to push him off the bed yet he
snores and will not rll off the bed, as every time I wake him in this way he is in a daze...
I move to the other bed, I look at the dog in a numb horror but am laughing and saying I will never be able
to look at this poor dog again, in fact I do not want to break his little heart...
Two nights previously I learn who that older man was that I spoke to nearly four years ago...the man whom I
believed lived somewhere in this world, a man who could get me out of the 'evil' situation I was in at the
time in a house, talking as another man lies next to me sleeping, crying, in deep pain and misery for many
nights, and hearing a sorrowful reply from a man I believed I have called without realising this is prayer.
As I lay in bed holding Erhu's hand, I ask her who this man was, she tells me he is Jesus, yet he uses his nickname.
Now, i am caught in this revelation with much wonder love and joy...he talks to me using the dog that will not crawl off the bed as a telephone, yes all the why can't you appear to face me in the room questions, and how i feel calm love which i haven't felt for some time, (this begins an arguement as I dwell on this fact with Erhu, she tells me I talk to Him too lover, now remember i was an eighteen year old girl) we talk, he tells me he can speak to me, as I talk to Him 'grown' and remembers when I prayed for everyone to grow, rather a chant, I read the Koran well, happily, relaxed, clean,
there is too much mention of Mohammed and they forget His name and he is weeping...I will never meet him until I begin a real life of good christianity, yet today I have broken down and cried, and this is what hurts us...He tells me to 'overthrow the devil'...and other words, and I cry quietly, I don't know how long we talk to each other, he mentions a Paul, yet I'm not quite sure which Paul he means...He knows they claim we are both too hippy...we talk about a friend who is saving her money to come on holiday with me, then I hear 'out of dog' and believe he has just clicked his fingers to leave Jumble! (just jumble no one else, He says) yet Erhu tells me He had used his mind...I cannot forget talking about what happened yet I dwell on it
Last night, THE MANDARIN
I am told to kiss Erhu as I hear her crying,
we do, and see white light, yet I am hollering Mendelsohn, I don't know why, to be silly, and people in planes can hear me...
THEN, she makes the sign of the cross over her face, and tells me:
'It is a sin to look.'
And turns into a red eyed lion that leaps and slashes my face, (left hand druggies breaking through, A MAN ON A PILL DRIVING PAST AT THAT VERY MOMENT)...

I walk down stares and eat cornflakes, no fear...apart from perhaps being a scarface...

I cry today...FOR OTHER REASONS...

AI WU: i FEEL MY MIND PUSH BACK, FLOW THROUGH A PATH, AND I HEAR MYSELF TALK IN CHINESE, MANDARIN...I SOUND LIKE A MAN AND I SEE A CHINESE GIRL HOLD HER HANDS TOGETHER, I WORRY IF SHE IS COMMUNIST CHINA, HER NAME IS AI WU, I SAY I AM DEAD, TODAY HAS BEEN EXPLAINED TO ME THAT SHE IS IN HONG KONG, AND RELATED TO ME THROUGH 400 YEARS OLD BLOOD, PERHAPS IN THE CHINESE TRADITION SHE BELIEVES SHE IS HEARING A GHOST, A DEAD EMPEROR, YET ERHU (WHICH IS A CHINESE SAD MELANCHOLY INSTRUMENT YET NOT HER REAL NAME, BEING HEBREW) COMES BACK TO HER AND TELLS HER I AM NOT DEAD I AM A WOMAN IN ENGLAND THAT 'WHITE MEN WERE BEING DEVILS' AND AS SHE IS ONLY A YOUNG GIRL, TO 'BE GOOD'...FINE...AND I KNOW THAT A CERTAIN MAN HAS BEING SAYING THAT MY BLOOD IS MANDARIN DOG...

KANDINSKY CONVERSATIONS: IT IS BEST TO HAVE A CONVERSATION IN COLOURS, PINK SQUARES TO THE RIGHT, A FLASH OF GREEN ACROSS THE LEFT,

AND I HAVE SEEN MYSELF IN A STUDIO PAINTING THE MEMORY OF ADEL'S FACE AT THE WEDDING, AS A MAN WALKS IN, AND THEN I AM OUT THROUGH FRENCH WINDOWS, INTO A MEADOW WHERE THE SUN SHINES, AND SHE WALKS UP TO MEAND SITS DOWN, AND I SEE MY SON AND TALK, AND TICKLE HIM...

AND THEN: I GO TO SLEEP....

I cannot forget talking about what happened yet I dwell on it

Serious SORRIES Disaster Miracles

2006-05-21T16:39:00.000-07:00

It's raining all over England you know?

I went to my grandmothers, found a book called A Terrace In The Sun by Cecil Roberts, began to read, whilst talking to Erhu, I sat in her small flat, unable to turn off her television...

Eurovision Song Contest hosted in Athens this was, disaster, the introduction song comes on whilst I am trying to read and ignore TV...Eamon says the planet is like a terry's chocolate orange...the singing is terrible, Erhu likes this song, uplifting, I think the singing is a little off key I ignore her, i read Lovely Bones through (the scene where the woman's husband is dying, and then random sentences as I trawl through it in an effort to concentrate, listen to the singing, read 'stinks to high heaven', look at the silver man standing there, lost and confused 'that's you.' I see Israeli flags being waved around at the end of the song, oh, so this is the Israeli entrance I wonder, Israel must win says the presenter, the other presenter shockingly comes out with 'King Dovid has ordered it.' Now, this was neither in my head nor head by me by anyone else in the room or in the bird telephones...think good as I watch the israeli flags, everyone Israel...get a lift from my Dad, he puts the TV on, this is dangerous I have no where to sit, I am in the process of reading the suicide of a man and the story of disasters that befall royalty, to Erhu whilst she lays in bed...I go outside, carry on reading to her, hear Finland a good speech by the singer, we will win the eurovision is an hilarious song, Adel says through the television they are watching it too,...My Dad's eyes flash white when something makes us laugh, I notice as I look up at him from the book, but I am trying to avoid TV as much as possible, realising there is no chance of a score like this:

Israel winnner 180 points
Ireland 160 points
Eastern European song that was actually good 1140 points
UK 120points even though the song gives me a headache...
Greece again; for a Greek man 110 points

Dad annoys me by opening the back door and then slamming it swiftly shut (which cuts my heart in two too easily) as I sit on the chair enjoying the beginning of this book intensely and talking in Evrit, trying to concentrate, I see him make a dumb annoying face, like 'what have I done?, say something like 'die.'

Men outside promise to vote Israel, some men say Albania has won...I count the liars and the damned men or dumbed men as they drive by, sometimes there could be drive by conversions, hhhhmmm, drive by conversions...Go to bed after everyone else has though for a while it feels peaceful...

Later, disaster befalls, two young women are on the telephone...one is crying, as I lay in bed upstairs, feel intensely guilty...I go to sleep on the sofa, talking to a wife, shooting eyes at each other, I forget the conversation, and then someone I recognise is on the 'telephone'...she is angry, I make it worse by telling her what the men did to me and Erhu while I was in the world above on Friday day, and how it got her in the world below, but I shout too much like a man, and I do ask Erhu again to make love this morning, but people are home in the house and she says my brother has been talking too 'poof', and if I ever do it again she could be dragged down again, yet, I want to remember, and remember the images, and how I brought her out of almsot being a ghost, and saw us both together, real, and remember her words, how they call me a boy, when she knows I am a man, even see myself...and feel her nose stroke mine...as I'm writing this now, men that drive by I can hear picking up certain words, and it still continues to rain...it's difficult to live like this...

Orlando is fine and I have to remember that when he tells me Mummy is crying, why are men doing this? that I have to just relax my mind, and feel love without talking 'Anglo'...

And this girl that is on the telephone I feel break after I shout like a pig to her, and I tell her I love her, and I tell her Goddnight, as I finally calm down sitting up with my head resting on the back of the sofa, I just wasn't expecting to hear her...and Erhu tells me Adel has spoken to her to, I think when I freak out like this she has to heal everything I do, and with Erhu I am almost forgetting, her and the day the sun shone for a while when Atara was born there was no one around to celebrate the birth, here with me...the only solution is go out but my grandmother agreed, that going out in this weather and this appalling situation with the men in this town is depressing, I walk past someone in the street, and say yes I am a black man, I'm too joking, and not even funny, I so stuck with this that I forget how to go and live...there doesn't seem to be anyone around me at the moment, and all these people that fly over have lately been making things feel worse...yet also I feel better, I'm praying so much more, I know Erhu went to pray all day yesterday, and perhaps I talk to her too much and forget Adel, and I am even becoming; 'never get married' to my brother...Grandmother, I mean Nan, great Grandmother, says: she has signed me up for a 'healing mass', I found this funny, and that I should go on a seminar, I didn't go to church today, but I have prayed today...when I go into prayer, I talk quickly, my eyes flash a little round the edges, and I hear my words quietly in another language, earlier I chanted 'men go', without thinking it, or rather breathed it and gently blew my breath out so it spread...so, I DO have a job, and I do have a lot of recompenses due to all these foolish mistakes, mine own a matter of hanging around too much and too passively in the wrong place, letting hearing all this get my thoughts violent, and the mistakes of others that are strangers to me, yet still have a dog's ear for barking at me, like the wolves and the squashed teddy bears face in that music video...and I'm either that woman in the white hood, or the teddy bear mask wearer...

And I get a message, a scream, from another girl, and I put my hands together, and tell her as I put my book down on my chest and Erhu releases her hand from mine, and I lay there, unable to cry with real tears but really am crying, try to explain a few things to her, tell her who I am, that God Loves Her, and that she should go back to school, and I feel light in my heart again as I rest my two hands together above my heart, yet I can't talk for too long because I start to get a ringing in my ears.

My little sister is at church today, I've asked her to pray for her...

And I think my lungs are almost gone...

I've written enough...

2006-05-20T12:38:00.000-07:00

erhu is crying...her real name is Esu, remember I am talking about Royal Jews, if you are knew to this only way of getting a message across...read up on 'four world paradigms of kabbalah', this explains this world everything written hastily here, and the other worlds, we put Beriah through, if you are new to that, read the Luria website...i think we are too young for this, at least, i am...are we being stupid writing this??
Someone told me, Erhu and I had been too black, men were bleeding her...

last night, I heard lots of things, saw lots of discussions here, and then heard...

bubble, bubble, brbbble, bluergh goo, bbble...agh! Am I hearing An alien!!??

No, I heard Erhu in the bath...

this led to questions about whether I need a bath, but at the time, I was laying in bed after drinking half a bottle of wine, where my brother caught me staggering through the kitchen, with the walls and ceiling moving, and then trying to pray again...No, I don't need a bath, but I'm sure a shower is advisable today...I'm writing this after I wrote the stuff below this line:
.....

Me and Little Sister are in the process of inventing a computer game at the moment which she is designing, a game she thought of for my son Orlando, so suddenly this writing has become business like, head invasions...

..... (this line then)
my feelings are...odd

we, its raining again...i'm too loud...

know: that I am a man there, not a boy, not a lesbian if that can finally be realised, though i find that confusing myself...and M if you are reading this, don't worry...

read back to march and the foolish unrealisation, that i got married, remarried, and then married to erhu...

depression...i don't know how to speak, the rain has started to pour down...

Adel and I are too white for this,
........

........i know my writing has disintegrated...

it is very cold for May...

they are crying her down again, crying that we are gay, we are not, i have dark curly hair and a beard...know we are free...

i need to free her...

there are men somewhere writing her name down...

the men here wont help...

they already know our names...

the rain stops and starts...

you are reading too devil again...

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAYER...

MEN STOP

WE GOT A BABY GIRL

2006-05-20T11:18:00.000-07:00

PRINCESS ATARA!!

There was intense rain AND NOW SUNSHINE!!!

Emergency Call To Prayer, and Now Everything...Fine???!!!!

2006-05-19T20:48:00.000-07:00

I have a broken rib...an old wound that I have no idea existed though it often hurts when I lay on it, I have often thought it was a cyst on my lung but it's not...I spent all day in bed...why?

I met with ----

She began to heal my body...my nose was phantom bleeding or the air in it was being pulled out, like Adam, and I lay there saying that, all the while being told NOT to move, NOT speak about my hurting rib that I am laying on, and I go move, and make dumb jokes...and she lets go of my hand...and she says you know WHY I did, I have a feeling I can hear her through the TV now telling me not to write this and go eat the jacket potatoes I just microwaved...

even my lungs could be healed if I spent enough time focusing my mind without thinking, asnd had promised only to smoke one cigarette today...and not flitting my eyes around at objects in the room...

Then something happened I went to the world above, and something happened outside the towerblock and she went into the world below...

I was told to go out, with a head covering on, and give out love to people, I ended up at my parents, feeling exhausted, to see depressed Alfie whom I accidently let get run over yesterday after being ordered to pray for two men who had died...he has a tire mark on his back, and can't walk properly, I sat with him while he rested his head on my foot and grumbled pray ----pray ----, and I'm leaning my head against the window, unable to realise how...

They keep putting us both in black, both Adel and I prayed...there has been some arguements today..a man outside with his children broke it by saying something, that man is going to hell...

I got my little sister to pray...

we knelt on the landing and bowed to each other like Buddhist warriors hands clasped together, and I found it hard to pray...

I'm finding it hard to know what has happened now...I went upstairs to lay on the bed laying on my front like a priest holding my crucifix necklace and tried to speak to her, I guess I kind of reported and ordered and heard a man outside panic and pray...but I couldn't feel anything, I felt like I myself was sinking through the bed, but I think that is just from not eating much...

It gets confusing, Adel wouldn't speak to me, and unless I could write this with some magic you'd understand why, when I play around/get annoyed with her she says I'm too far right, (jewishly, uh huh) yet they keep hearing what people in this place do, such as women calling me a pig, and my nose often grows strangely like a pigs...as the men...

I am more of a mad man than anything, a man spoke to me...whilst I bowed my head against the floor...I told him men kill me, he said if I carry on like this HE WILL KILL ME...

'Adel is in your heart!!!!' and I feel my heart being pointed to or growing...

'That man was your heart!!!!!'

My words can never make up for any of this, I am a disaster and I often forget I am a woman, and I forget that I am a man...

and energy flowed out of me without realising as I came out with a word that they did, and a little girl in another country heard the wrong word, but she went to bed and I'm sure she's fine now...from another prayer...

I can't get away, I was never coming back to my parents again, I have no food at the moment, I still have no electricity, nevermind the mundanities, I am told they are too 'new'...yet they are too, unable to speak to me as though, unable to speak to like a person...

I can't live with the orthodox jews, considering I am not a jew, and I am uneducated, but I see no other way out of this at the moment though I often ask these people that fly over to write to me...

I heard a family last night that I used to know, I heard her mum tell J to write to me, I said she could write to my aunts house if she can remember the address, and I could find that girl...

my heart still gets knocked around too easily, by inamimate objects

and in my heartache I guest starred on Big Brother, as The King Of Ireland, and didn't realise the young mans voice was mine until I added (I scream and I sound very 'laddish', I feel I bark, it means they turned my voice down) misery

WAR after END...

And this has put me in danger in town, though a boy driving by on his motorbike outside the towerblock has realised what has happened, and calling my brother today let a woman hear they had put Heaven in black...

So, it's Friday

and I need to get a life...I have some money...paid rent in advance, need a nice family and a cottage somewhere in the countryside... i'm an idiot, YET now I'm fine, you don't know this town,''tomorrow' yeah??? AGH

HELP

I'm going back to find her now...

Mad Men, Love

2006-05-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

I think I've been hit by a plane full of men, or mourners, it's making me feel really ill...

Last night, I spoke to my new second wife, yes she has a name, understand this is hard to write...she told God she loved me...

Baby names, perhaps celtic or hebrew, I have chosen some, some sound a little cosmopolitian, manga...but it is too early to do that, the erh, the 'arrival' would be rather well, there are impossibilites about any future babies here, perhaps...

Tried to read 101 dalmations to Orlando today, they are making us very ill, men drive past, and say they think they are hearing a 'mog' reading a childs book, i find it hard to read, use different voices for the character, not feel so ill, bad father, these are men that don't even cry, goyim devils one would call them, or pig men...my body is almost dead and these men kill, Becky my sister wouldn't even come to the shop with me today...

if they came back, and she said last night, they are flying here, we would be healed,

Orlando knows he is an heir, imagine, we find a castle in Ireland, move in there...all possibilties...

I spoke to her, whilst I sat on a chair in the garden, trying to get comfortable as I was 'knocked out' ready to sleep, she said I shouldn't take my pill because I feel the madmen who take it and that we would actually dream because usually the pills knock me out and i did dream, BUT, I could have slept anywhere in that chair in almost good air, but Mum came out said it would rain, and we both knew it wouldn't... I also hear someone I remember meeting here a while ago, she says she will take me to Istanbul, and we are both going through hell, and she can get me new rags, find a new job...and we can just spend a holiday at her expense, though she can't find me because of 'family' problems...etc.shussh, and talking to both of them brings i love you, i love you, whirling through my mind...

And I dreamt, whilst men still shout past in their cars, and something happened, and I heard the neighbour say she could feel me, and I could feel the killing men, and she almost became demonic, and I'm part in a fight with these men, and I'm hearing people talk to me as they fly over, like a drunk man who can't move, and she kisses my left hand and calls me a swine:

and then I come back, and lay around hungry, and hear:

'Louie, I can't hold on!!'

My first wife has gone to speak directly to God with her family, because of what being near this motorway outside the door as I sleep on the sofa does, and ------- tells me this, and I make noodles in the kitchen, while they are telling me to pray, and as the water boils, I sit on a chair, and move into evrit or perhaps magically nonsense words, and then I move into the front room into the darkness, and I see a light flash through before my eyes, and I tell God I do not want to be like these men...

AND these men don't even cry, they break things, but I can't hear them whilst I pray because the road is empty for a while, or I just can't hear them, or I'm sitting there trying to order PRAYER but there is no one there...

Something's just hit me on TV too, and I've just shouted if they do that they are only just going to burn...

SO GODS PEOPLE, THERE ARE COMING BACK...soon.

please pray, be quiet, remember this has become a soul war or I feel it has, but that sounds piggish, my tongue flipped out because I 've just heard a man shout and threaten on TV, she has just told me he is a snake...

It rained earlier, Adel was crying...

my second dream: there was blood on mine and Esu's knee, it looked like nail varnish, BECAUSE before I woke up in front of the TV again (I never switch the devil on), and she made the mistake of being there as 'Daphne', a strange dream, Daphne's grandmother has died, and she has told Dapnhe that if she does this conversation through the TV again 'we are in a fix', I met her grandmother when I wanted to deliver a letter, and wondered why I was there, perhaps to pray, or just have tea with a nice well spoken woman...

so

? good ending huh??

almost...

Weekend ANd I'm Leaving On Monday To Find You

2006-05-14T17:42:00.000-07:00

corinna repp-the sound you warn/m, http://myoldkyhome.blogspot.com

I sleep on sofas covers pulled over my head like a dead man...I read to my baby today, but I cannot get this misery or madness out of my head, she tells me he can only hear what I am reading...

On friday I was certain she would come back...so many orders about what to do...not go out to that gig, but i went there, drank one shandy as promised as quickly as possible and hear them through the guitars music, and I wander with a Sufi book and that Philosophy book into the almsot empty room, talk to a friend and leave as soon as possible, crying or feeling finally full in my heart or locked up...even now I'm crying she says she'll wait for me there...

I go to the bedsit, and sit at the table in the kitchen in the torchlight, and read the book, dropped my head on it, cry on it, look at the door:

real men don't look at the door

she was that girl I saw/ see years ago, with dark wavy hair and bright eyes...

cigarettes in gardens and Israel has left and won't be back...

I sleep in my bed and turn to her, and hold her hand,

'Louie, I'm going to sleep now'...

She says she will ring that bell, but the TV is STILL ON>>>> in the morning I wake up alive and full again, and wait today the bedsit two clock wait til three oclock, i know that they have been flying over because I spoke to them, last friday, when I saw them fly over, sat in my friends garden on a blanket with candles and spoke to them, after watching two lights fly back and forth higher than the planes...

I can write how we talk, she was angry yesterday it poured down with rain, and I sat in the garage as the floor flooded, how I have made that girl my concubine without even knowing it, how she is driving her mad,

how we are both broken

how I am Oberon...

and sometimes when I know how to shut off my mind, and not whimper not speak not swear, I can speak to her...

And I need to live, they will not live in dirt, I need to wonder why I heard them tell me, that they were in a hotel on Saturday, and why she got arrested for stealing...

and where and how easy it is...

like a tunnel of light that shimmers and can teleport, and sometimes i feel i havent fully left...

So I need to leave, and the weather will never break through...

ANd I have no words: I found the neighbour with her baby tell me she had been crying when I came back to find her because she had heard me talking and writing a poem, I never know what to do, and I slam the door, and it said

women like you make me break...

And I could go knock for her, I could

Im stuck

i'll let you know if I've gone, coach booked on Monday

if the weather breaks through...it poured down yesterday....
and last night, why rely on her when i forget Jesus Christ?

Truth And Dreams

2006-05-12T13:10:00.000-07:00

lets get these facts correct, King Charles The First had more than one baby with Nell Gwynn, after his death which it is impolite to mention, he was cannonised as a saint due to his unswerving devotion to God, in 1859, the 'German' Victorian Saxo Coburgs, signed a warrant which cancelled his canonisation, according to one textual information on what we call Grandpa the 'world wibe web'... so in my previous mistake due to lack of historical knowledge, not the blood of the Bonnie Prince...correct

In a strange vision on the way to the cigarette shop, I chanced upon a young woman dressed in rags, showing me, what they call, a bit of leg, her shins and her thighs, for once many of us were all dressed in rags, much like the young women that wander the streets and towerblocks, very rude, and I also as I walked through a copse, felt a procession of men or families wander behind me, and this gave me such a jolt I turned around to see no one...In some time Charles made Nell Gywnn his offical wife...the theory that King Charles, had an affair with a young Japanese woman who delivered his pekineses to his palace, has from a conversation been proved, absolutely and embarassingly for myself, very wrong...

King David's palace, has recently been given the go ahead to be excavated, though it is buried in ruins and sand underneath a few Palestinian villages, the feeling is that it is best to leave the archeological park as quoted as being created and to let these people remain in their homes, or rather to be resituated in another village, but then this is nothing to do with me, though I could perhaps if I continue a conversation with the story to Orlando, as a form of entertainment, I believe myself it would be rather strange to let people wander around there as though it is an amusement park. Enough, I know little else of it, apart from agreed opinion.

Managed to tune my guitar by listening intently to both the sound of the strings and the instruction of another, if I had had any idea this was George from the Beatles himself, then perhaps I would not have been so quietly rude, and then my wife would not have had to write a letter of apology, to which he called back on, I assume some form of telephone, and replied 'well well', when I realised who I had been speaking to I wanted to throw my guitar at my own head and no idiotic words of mine can help my situation...and i would not be so ashamed of myself, though I have now made a vow to go back to Vegetarianism...He also told me to write to Paul, but I have absolutely now idea how to keep;;;;;

The plan, is to leave this week or the next, I am best imagining her sitting there in front of me on the sofa, holding the baby, whilst I lean my head on his/her (the his her question again) knee, and stroking her leg...we discuss we're to meet, how I would know, the way she could just arrive in a quiet place, the confusion and danger...I always think there will be danger, mad governments guns, or just a walk along the moors through forests, and then perhaps leaving the liittle cafe where old grannies are making me my second cup of tea, with scones on the table half eaten, and then wandering a gallery across cobbled streets, a very quiet village, and the problem of not being able to walk around graveyards anymore, just sitting outside by a river meeting a family, all these possibilities and all these ideas, and every negative warning of mine, and if I will even make it that far to get on holiday alone...

She has become the only dream and the only dream I have had for years (im writing this badly and in a rush again) that materialised in the strangest way, I have relistened to a favorite song of mine, and like another song I heard two days ago, I could hear them speak through it with an almsot sonci boom wave, telling me there are at this moment flying over, much like I saw them on friday night last, the way shee sang to the words, and told me if they were doing this to me, she would marry me...mad not mad love...and these bad clinical words...

I have had a vision of pricking my thumb on a thorny rose...

Perhaps I could write this well one day

Plato talks about how music can speak differently, they worte to Plato I repeat myself, and some times I hear words even in the chopping of wood outside, unless a buddhist thought of voidist lack of cancels it out, much like trying to play music, it takes me a while to fully focus or rather unfocus my mind when i play, and the old guitar I have now, has to be learned how to be played differently due to the old strings and the way it is made...

the birds just got ill

Dictated In Part Letter To a Lamb

2006-05-11T16:38:00.000-07:00

when the Prince Arjuna was betrayed by his family, Krishna came to speak to him, and the words are

to 'never give up'...light

Sorry thats just a quick letter

move to light, good men cry, still, we do not die in love, we remember you always, i'm calling her to you, the good men that were kille d are true light, remember what we are telling you, belief in God, and no doubt even in deepest hardship, strong enoguh to turn away when those around you brign in fights, warriors like the great buddhists take every hardship without lack of conviction and sometimes those who aspire to be like them falter, remember always the laughter, please don't cry...

they

didn't
put you on a rack, not literally i hope...

write a diary for yourself and others each night, or evening...in a book on paper, find a pen...

Comedic Poetry in A Rush, after a conversation. Diary.

2006-05-11T16:22:00.000-07:00

'what was that noise?
we heard a goyim woman bash her head on the temple wall...'

when my heart broke into pieces
how I became a man I could not hear yet then she caught my heart,
before the snow fell throughout England...
and then she is 'more of a man than me'

I played a song to her in the tower and she flew over, chose me:

'If they are doing that to you, then I will marry you.'

And now I have saluted a 'Salud' and goodbye as I wake from a woken nap,
and from our conversation
holding hands, arms out as we are too far away from each other, yet beside each other night
days
nights are days, days are nights.

five I love you's from her
an unwanted hiccup from me...

And Amu (lives) whom I must stop referring to as The Maid

is looking after the babies

........................................................................................................................

and interrupting as she sits in the other room
be quiet...four poster bed which we probably don't have...

Salut, i salute you, and now I will go to the park to talk to some strangers with my sister...
I'm waiting...

d7umb

Have You Seen Her?

2006-05-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

the gold on the robe is incorrect, i went too heavy on the flowers, i should listen and concentrate here here nevermind, just a sketch read the story below...a first sketch with no concept of colours or concentration, took 20 minutes should have taken hours...

The Free Unfree...

2006-05-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

two dark...
I had a strange day today that, made me realise the impossibilities of social interaction. writing this unfeelingly, but if I was alone I think I would be crying over this keyboard now, if I hadn't just had a conversation that tells me we are fine, too optimistic for earthly people, and by that I mean I 'met' a man and a woman today, that are too earthly, they have hebrew blood, i know that much now. But I feel as 'Daphne' would have said, a need to meet 'light'...
I sat in a cafe, after talking to Israel who was busy at work, I sat down at a table alone with a coffee in the smoking section, I feel serious and impatient now, a real headache, I feel I do not want to play a game, as these two strangers were miserable, i shall hit the keyboard as hard as i like, little brother...
first a oldish man, with his back to me, telling me he could hear them, I could see he had a beard a leather jacket, and was reading a science book about plants, I tried to talk to him, only in my mind, for a moment I asked him, if he could be King David, through some impossilibilty he said only, that he could hear them...I finished my coffee quickly, too quickly I drink coffee like I'm downing beer...as I walked away I turned at looked, at him, his misery, red all round his crying eyes...as I walked into the shop to buy some paints, white and gold, Or as it is known, I cried, and wandered the aisles trying to just look at things, wandered round in a circle tears in my eyes as soon as I wlaked into the shop like I could see the tears in his eyes, and saw a little girl look at me, and put my arms out and said something about flying birds, I bought gold to add, to a painting like Klimt, or perhaps I should buy silver leaf, when I have the money and paint a huge beautiful piece to the best of my concentration and ability, if I had the environment...
Next I wandered through the shops, a second coffee shop, sat there smoking trying to relax over another too quickly drunk coffee, and a dark haired woman wearing glasses, in her middle age, walks up the stairs and starts telling me she here's them too, but she looks miserable, and I have no idea how to talk to her she is sitting across the room from me, I can feel her in my head, making me ill and floating my hands, being too heavy with the way we can't even talk, telling me about how men don't even talk to her, I say I'm not an agony aunt, and I have spoken too young too, too stupid' with both of them, and they have both told me not to, I tell her I can't cope as I feel about to die, I get a feeling in my mind that hardens and I move my head to the left to let her know she is pushing me down, or rather into a downer, we don't even know how to face each other, it's like I have to take the intitutive, but I feel too young and of course, too light with the need to be around friends and try and forget this for a while, I wonder if she could be Adel, and this is getting worse for me in that moment, she says don't think that, I say out loud,

'they replied' annoyed, exasperated,

...as in she hears them and they talk through her, and she says that they do, she says she can hear Adel asking why they are calling us both Lesbians, why they call us skies, herself she means by that, and I have no idea what that idiocy means, and I have spoken to Adel too much for her to be talking like that through this woman at that moment, unless this woman only remembers what they have been telling her, and that perhaps if I spoke to this woman I think it would be the same, and she looks terribly tired and heavy and intellectual like the old man, but we are the only two upstairs in the coffee shop, I also tell her I will knock for that girl finally as I found out I have been making her cry and breaking her up, and she replies that that would be good...eventually after staring at both the ashtray and the empty cup of coffee, feeling that is all I'm registering I look at her twice, thoguh I almost can't and consider buying another coffee and waiting there, only in the space of five minutes has this cionversation occurred, then I stand up and walk past, yet stop for a moment to see her writing in a pad, and she says I'll bow, and leans forward, and nods down, but she looks almost mad at that moment as I'm biting my lip, thinking please, that's the last thing I want you to do...and I leave, and then sit at the bus stop, and cry again for a moment...

I think perhaps this woman will write a great book...and she will write about how much I love Adel, I didn't even tell her I played a wedding song on the guitar last night, and we talked about getting remarried, and we have, perhaps some of you were there...and remember that beautiful game I invented for Orlando...or perhaps just thoguht of for him...means Land Of Gold, a Virginia Woolf book....

I know if they came back they would be light, perhaps the man heard me when I envisioned what my wife would look like if she came back, healthy, beautiful, bright eyed, not like us three 'freaks' in the shopping centre and my foolish words that were no concilation. On the bus I cried again, wondering if I could have run away with either of them, discussed something, just to get our minds out and be free...

2006-05-10T16:00:00.000-07:00

If you were the Aya, and The Prophet arrived in your room? what would you do?

comments and answers here...

We are not dead, we are flying over at this very moment and have been for some time...

I hear the family through a song I play on the computer earlier like a transmission...

I have invented a game for baby Orlando,
a 3D computer animated like game/canvas, shaped in a box like a fish tank with moving images of neon fishes and flowers, the colours and images are moved with the hand, pointing a finger without touching to blend the colours...

We need to prepare for God through joint prayer, and talking to the right men and women only...

I have been reading some of The Bhagvad Gita, it depicts a war in another world between the Kuaravas and the demon Pandavas...written 1000 bc, it is a scared text....

And Heaven Is Crying

2006-05-08T18:17:00.000-07:00

I met a man called weirdly: Israel, I met him at the shopping centre, and sat on a bench feeling depressed while white women moved round with their buggies like a circling of dogs, or perhaps lost women too afraid to use their MOUTHS to speak, asking why they will be in the lower worlds, probably honey, because I don't even know your sorry ass. anger. yes, television witches again. Mogging has become a slang word in Australia now, INVENTED by me, thank you. Strike One. I should go play baseball. Because I'm good a t imaging hitting peoples heads around, heightened concentration...please.

Someone, a friend who I cried about getting killed in Israel, while women sang to Jesus in a conservatory on a roof, in a huge house surrounded by barbed wire with beautiful tapestries hanging all the way up the stairs and dining tables everywhere with candles and red wine, or rather water, has a drunken effect, apparently they put cocaine in English river, ANYWAY, he died years ago, and; was discussed, last week or so...

'He was not a dag.'

Indeed, but he was a good man, he punched someone in the face, a man I would rather not describe but was appreciative of the act, and also he had a tarantula tattoo, that was rubbed off when I spoke to him in the birds, if you could understand this local mentality you would observe that certain men, believe they are his man...he says in no uncertain terms, that the other world he was in before was full of 'pig men.' And he likes drinking beer.

So, he got there and I thought that was rather selfish of me. Considering his family...

Israel, I liked him straight away, he is from Europe, he was in the army shooting planes down rather than shouting or talking them down...

And the air hostess, who says everyone calls her an Air Ho...she says I met her in Ibiza, now this was 5 years ago, I have no recollection of her but she flies over 3 times a day, her shift was changed last night, and I upset her slightly by telling her how I didn't really like Ibiza, particularily San Antonio a province of England, though it was fun drinking cheap champagne with a friend at 7 o'clock in the morning in a swimming pool and then falling asleep on a cliff in the midday sun...I make her laugh, I heard her one night, hearing me mutter a few Itailian phrase words I have learnt, and her telling me that made her come...I believe in my heart hopefully that she is not FAT, and also she made a Jewish declaration and if indeed she mixed it with that comment...then in the words not of Bonnie Prince Charlie a relation of mine, but rather the words of Queen Victoria I am not amused...She actually made this hilarious though not in my agony at the time, spurious commment, when I replied that white light flashed in front of my eyes, at that moment, perhaps she is a talking dog, though I know of no one calling talking Dogs air ho's and I have also begun to tell her so, in my reality of walking around this house with scars all over my body, and my left eyeball hanging out of my socket...which is not amusing...

Where am I in this random news, I'm trying to write about mine and hers agony, but also, 'we are fine'...today, though both of us are going rather mad...

Israel is good looking, and when he arrived into the space in the shopping centre I liked him straight away, in fact when I looked at him, I noticed his eyes flashed white like a UFO flying through his sight...

Friday night, I have spent the whole week on what I call a mission, to find my earthly wife, THOUGH like a TV witch she continues to call me a pig, (and two nights ago, said I love you, pig, which made me melt on the floor outside with an inner phew, she likes writing so she can write this mess better than I could, it was unfortunate through the powers that be that we can talk through the television to each other, and when I put on a silly voice to her, that; 'I will make you my Queen (Irish)' I actually this time look at the televison to see that a woman is running through Eygpt past pyramids, and I laugh worriedly that she herself may have believed she was hearing a Pharoah, AND MAN wouldn't I just run screaming and tearing my hair out in the middle of Cairo, if I heard that, so quickly thanks to my other wife's ingenuity, I waved my hand and added a Hebrew King, with out even thinking becasue, according to The philosphy Index FORMAL SEMNATICS (use of words, wait let me read up on this a moment, truth conditions, and the way words are used let me quote: set theoretical constructs used in specifying models are not restricted to domains of real entites but include objects (read persons (my own added explanation) existing in other possible worlds and other times. In other words my truth is becoming misconstured into words that are indeed affecting my high parameters with low opinion) are out of control in my own too need for Buddhism mind) I got her address, through her and God, though so doubtful and DUMB I spent 3 days trying to work out if my ears were connected to my brain...I spent Monday and Tuesday or left a break on Wednesday to knock on lots of people's doors, through a series of trying to USE MY OWN BRAIN, by asking a friend who knows her

This week has been about SEXUALITY.

And the problems I face, until I have no face, we agree we are now in the modern world but if Adel calls me a lesbian in my head when I am waiting in the street for a woman who will be my second wife, talking to a friend, hoping the friedn does not think I am saying about her but replies, 'You gay, I'm not a man, I'm bisexual', two days later when it registers that my little sister is mumbling that I am on the phone to another weird man...so that was a comment I ignored...

Being a woman here was a challenge, because I have never been a man, thoguh I am a man there...in what they call the upper worlds, who would have thought I would develop two souls and end up with neither...souls I mean, Adel says if I wish to marry this woman, which is rather forward as I still am yet to wander to her house then she won't look...AS she annoyed me the other night by talking to me through the maid through my sister looking in a pool of mirrors, while my sister was asleep...and dreaming and perhaps playing whilst she gets sentimental and says she can see me lying on the bed unable to sleep in repose, yes.

So, the idea of lesbianism is now concluded after this week that Adel will not even look at us...

Back to yesterday night...and what this young woman I refer to as Daphne and also what Adel has done to me, and my patheticness, whilst I am sitting in a house with Israel, in a small house which has tiny rooms as bedists much smaller than mine, where he lives with strangers who are mostly Polish that he never even gets to talk to, while they all go to work at different times, and have a tiny shared kitchen with a light that never switches off in the bathroom, where the window is smashed and the walls cannot be painted even though I have offered to do that, which you cannot do though I have done that in my bedsit which I cannot do, and when the eletrcity comapny gives me the RIGHT phone number, then perhaps he can see me there, , and you'll realise while he hasnt called me yet talking and listening and being unable yet again to have a proper conversation because, while we were talking about violence or rather the way he feels depressed in England, I have little compassion or no words are able to come out of my stupid mouth, apart from we are dead, (when we are not), and someone says 'I hate you' into my head, and Daphne is shouting you pig and you dog, through the TV upstairs, and I get hit by a massive headache, as my Dad is at work claiming I am Mohammed, Blessed Be His Name, without even saying blessed be his name...I have to ly on the bed, and he makes me green tea, and I eat a nutrigrain, but unfortunately I shout something about Polacks, which is a word I don't even know, and I talked about Pool which I wished I hadn't we just talked about our nightmares...and the local pizza man gave him attitude so like an Italian Godmother I had to give him attitude...and I think I really like him....but did not stay on his bed, thoguh he relaxed me by talkking about how he put bottles of water on his head to get rid of a headache when he was in the army, as I'm laying there holding my head, mogifying, and he plays with a ruler and sits there, which relaxes my aching legs...and he likes my eyes, and storkes my hair and says he likes my hair but it isn't even wierd, and I would much have prefered to have stayed there, while he slept next to me, or on the floor like we agreed he should...rather than wlka around all night hear, with a blanket wrapped round my head and body reading Philosophy yet talking to her at the same time, and finding out that:

They wrote to Socrates, or was that Plato...Plato...

So I wander the house, tell her I will make love to her, CANT SLEEP...and wrap myself in another blanket on the wodden floor, and then get up to walk to the cigarette shop in the rain, where she tells me the men are racist, adn

she purrs...

So I wake up this afternoon, walking round the garden in the rain...BIG TROUBLE, not that bloody film,

ER....and now we are fine...except I wake up saying I have made love to her, and repeat it again...

In front of television witches...

As for the blaspheming, ENOUGH....

I don't think I have the confindence to go to Daphnes, I knocked on the house the other day, recognised a car but stupidly, didn't realise the old lady there, was her grandmother and only said I had a letter to deliver, which really isn't even a proper letter, and didn't give her her name,

And then thoguht I should have joined her for a cup of tea to talk about her life and cried without actual tears forming like I did at Israels....

Tomorrow, morning when I get this together...

Also, I heard before I went to sleep that Israel wants to make me his wife, this is a little too quick...and he sent me a text message that I missed wishing me goodnight....

Read Dilemmas, in Philosphy...

If I had the time and talent and I could write what Adel and I discussed earlier,

thigns dont look too good, for UFOS...

My Little Sister's Story And Then Mine, As Always Try The Ending.

2006-05-04T20:32:00.000-07:00

Neo-Gray

Neo Gray has a darkened almost burnt complexion, his hair was once the colour of a ginger root, but he dyed his hair in a fit of passion or with his own sullied thoughts of unattainable love, his hair turned black. One of his legs was half chopped, an injury which occurred during an African war. He sits in a pale, though unnoticeable because of the effect of his skin colouring, pallor, often he sits, staring into space, on a brown leather chair at our dining table. His other leg was also buried in the deserts. He has only one arm. Some people call him Norogey, we look behind ourselves at his constant presence, he has a way with talking to pet cats. And he is also in love, with a girl that he once saw walking along the street. He has a large family but does not see them a lot because now he has moved to England thinking of his hardships and memories, and the girl he left behind in Africa. I let him sleep in the living room and often sleeps sitting upright on the brown leather chair. He talks to me about strange stuff, what those things are I hope not to imagine, and he also reads lots of strange books. He stays in the living room, whilst we live our everyday lives, walk in and out of the house. He gazes up into the ceiling. He thinks of very strange things.

Adel

I find it hard to write of her. Sometimes I begin to act in a manner which brings her to call me a vicious dog, a dead dog, drawing pictures of me, which I envision as another break into the Other side, but only babies pictures or perhaps the pictures of those that have been lost or needed, doves, and father Christmas and an American eagle, for the way I have been acting is more foolish than any madman, I break swords in half, I drag daggers across walls, I scream when I feel I have lost her and God tells me no for the words I abruptly fight flying men with, and I turn in my bed, as at that moment I cannot reach her though she sits in her garden and watches me patiently and calmly, I scream when I believe all is lost, ‘but you’re my wife!!’ and perhaps when I walk alone amongst many different sorts of opinion I feel her tears flow through my eyes. I fight, but I do not fight with her, there are many encounters that come between us.

We sit together in this room, I hear her voice, as I study or what I call study, Buddhism, she quietly tells me she is practising her Yoga, and I never knew she did Yoga, I always have an opinion that Yoga is not something I am interested in, and I miserably tell her so, though at that moment we are relaxed, and listening quietly to music, electro acoustic pop avante garde. Finally I feel quiet in our own moment together. My movements are strange, just like the way Noreegey has no movement, I pull fear out through my leg when the men in the planes fly with hate words, or dumb words, or good sorry words, or uncareful words, or such careful words that when I hear men, I cry ruinous words, at times, and I fear that though we have been put in the middle of these bad souls I cannot fight them away.

But this is not bright; this is half the story of Uchal, almost a man like Neogray, yet in fear of becoming such a man. If I could write all the ways we have forgiveness, how we have started a family, how we triumph in Love, yet not as I live through two worlds and forget that I too often break her heart, when I do nothing in this life and give up on so many opportunities which I sometimes feel are there, but hard to accomplish, from lack of gateways and my mistaken conversations with so many people I will never see, and around me strangers become a responsibility though they always remind us we are free. And the Maid laughs and the maidens cry.

This is not bright, this was supposed to be a different light to Neogray's darkness, this story is written with no help…. A dark excuse, that I will try to change tomorrow. I wonder now what she thinks of this story, I hear her through the trees, that she likes it, perhaps that is the maid talking for her.

Perhaps, when I sit at the train station waiting for a friend to arrive, we should not discuss the possibilities of her coming back to me, as though we are estranged even when I lay next to her in bed watching her tip her head off the side of the mattress, her hair tied up in flowing ribbons, laughing with her, in all my agony of hearing more and more cars pass by us and evil men surround, or, just men, and I think I almost lash out with my hand towards trying to touch her again or to flee the men away, an outburst stuck in too many onlookers no privacy, though our bilingual conversations, we turn the same age, but I must hold my tongue and whisper if they hear us, and this makes my limbs turn monstrous in their movements. And objects like slamming doors still crack my heart. Only piece in our night-time home, yet she is sometimes and is always with me as much as possible despite the way I try to ignore her sometimes when I need to think or live with other people during the day. At this train station, I pray and pray, aloud, a little heady on one glass of wine after visiting my grandmother and trying to tell her that I can hear her dead father (who isn’t dead, they remind me) laugh at her story about him, coming home drunk to drink bicarbonate soda in his cup of tea.

At the train station she wants to come back to me, I walk in and out into the street, smoking countless cigarettes, talking out loud at times, repeating what she says though she warns me not, a Hebrew Anglo conversation, how would she come back? She says she would be a bright-eyed man, perhaps with that baby in her arms? I ask, and we are both beating stronger and lighter and darker than any of the people around us, lost in the middle of everyday reality which somehow has become part of my private inner world. How already I can spy dangerous men, their thoughts threaten action if she arrived here, she tells me she would have money, that we would meet if I left this place and arrived in the countryside, I plead with her not to be so hopeful, surely there are rules about this, how could we live an earthly life, and go through suffering and death, though I would know if she was here, and if she was, the only possibility we agree, would be if she were a man my own age. But then I ask her, what if I go mad from this, already I look at someone without my glasses on and wonder if it is her walking through the train station gates, sometimes I look around too often, but SHE would know how to find me, and I imagine waiting around in bookshops, and as she walks up to me, collapsing and crying on the floor, I already know, can envision what she would look like as a man. I hear her, as I lay on the ground outside a church as the church bell tolls, telling her Daddy that she wants to go back. And I groan out loud.

I pray and pray, I mutter loudly, I walk back into the station, chanting,

‘Please don’t come back, please don’t come back’. And thinking why??!! On your own, when they all pray the opposite?

I lay down on the metal bench inside and strongly say, though it may almsot have been a whimper; ‘pleaseeeeeee, don’t come back.’

And then everything is quiet. I calm down, though I can still remember the last words of that day…

And my phone rings, and my friend arrives.

And now we sit here, having read a Sufi book earlier, about lovers, and unity and how we both became one, and I tell her shush, in case they might hear.

Not ready yet. Please don't say that again.

2006-05-01T23:38:00.000-07:00

moons and saps
heed transgressional conversations and you know there are no forgiving alms or hands of celebrations...
feed love with loving kindness, and do not flounder lost in a tiny pond of murder, and not a ocean of either fear or hopes, or this opposite to that opposite, when all colours disappear, all twisted agreements are reducing fogginess...
feel life with unbinding joy and freedom in thought and please no more arguements and twisted accusations of forgetting we each have our prejudices and mine are others, beginning to break us like fallen words lost in mazes...
from our own grieving uchal met adel, with his hand on her waist and her hand stroking his hair...
karmic needs for absolutions as they bring doubts in thought and actions turn crazily when there is only a little path to take and all possibilities ringing from our cries...
i went to another, she would not open her door, i stood by a graveyard waiting and playing a last song, as the song will be written tomorrow, as was wrote a danger, my eyes floundering i found no one and all is silent tonight...
there was a wedding song there, and here there was a killing, there was a child, and there is a child now and still will be...
there was a maid who found a lost object and there was a missing number at a missing, smiling, greeting in these last few days...
there was a man dressed in black wearing a beard and a wide brimmed hat, clasping a baby...
there was an invitation to a party, there was a discussion in the gardens about good men dying...
and there still will be...

Explanations

2006-04-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

I know her name...eternal, noble, highborn, hebrew AND why old german I don't know...

...he moved away(!)...
no, she says; they had him killed...
(has been explained to me)...I do not want a conker...because this would make me cry!!...
her mother told me:
I must not make her cry...almost writing this in code...makes sense if you read the last months posts...

I have planned to go on holiday...because there was an old woman in the newsagent, whom I heard explain with words from God, slightly what was going on to the woman who works behind the counter, this has perhaps cleaned up may things, I heard her whilst sitting as I do now, in front of the shop...I am part Greek, also, i don't why she said that...explains the feral eyes of mine, so that brings together two lots if I wasn't shooing that news out in the garden on a Sabbath day... I have a feeling I this old woman was at the party held some nights ago...

...she told the woman that women like me are too cry, this is a woman who prayed, she seemed younger than me, as she asked about the dog outside, all I did was gruff at her, I'm ashamed of myself...hope this finally makes sense because because seems I am writing in a hurry...

I chanted a buddhist name today as I was learning all about Buddhism, lots more to read, the name made me float a little and I sat in a doze on the trampoline...recommend wikipedi-a...but don't phase me out because I have to read it slowly...Have tried to relax, read a Hebrew blessing last night when I got home late, someone interrupted me laughing in this plane phenomena, write a sci fi story about that, a real man would have forgiven her instead of getting annoyed...

had a break earlier, when Daphne esped me on the TV, did not realise it was her, she finally said some things that made me cry, and I worry about my Dad...she told me to come and see her tomorrow, I dont know why I let this die...

felt a connection with Hotai today, I needed to ask him so advice, he said the men here have no fear... Hotai was the Laughing Buddha, buddisht warriors
go through demonic experiences, in order to attain a state of nirvana, I have a feeling he is not laughing now...

the club was shut down due to a fight, i noticed the atmosphere was depressed, bouncers of a certain iccantika (though amazingly those too can attain a state pertaining to buddha hood...)started a fight there...the music was great, the man talking to me all night, was well...;
I had an awful night with a man who got his willy out in the street last night...saw Pool, he and his buddies ignored me, I haven't told them, he told me about seeing a '
'Griffin' I have already explained Hell is not a party, I'm sorry to have to repeat this but there are fires and demons eating human flesh...as for I-R-A-N
in this area and said he shouted out the window at them, did not run him over and get on the front page news as a hero...this worries me, and doesn't...unless everyone keeps shouting on about blood, which I do not have...well, why explain that...I do nothing,

the other women girls deal with them... as for I-R-A-N...

have you heard of badawi-soldiers of midian albums, and jerusalem under fire...I played one of their songs, it makes her go black...'so, oh what does midian mean?-judgement.'

2006-04-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

They are also forbidden...

to call me gay

well...
thats my noble man, unnoble woman sorted out, though Buddha says I am also a noble woman...

2006-04-29T01:59:00.000-07:00

we are in sorrow, bad night, they call me his wife, I am his daughter's husband.

darkening of the heart I sang to her...darkening of the heart...

if the dog squeals he IS a piece of shit...

no light, and light tomorrow, if a tornado is planned let me sleep and sing a blessing I have learnt tonight.

forget about the dog. squealing and hollering...

give me peace.

If I Can Try To Write To You

2006-04-28T17:36:00.000-07:00

We can hear the men that kill love...

[If I could tell the truth of my heart], everything would be copied down, LadyHawk, another band-Dugout...

Something amazing last night, when I saw my Grandad...we walked into the house, my Dad my sister and I, he has his armchair pulled up right in front of the television watching snooker as his sight is faded...he gave my Dad a look, as in; 'what have you been doing to them, Son?'...my Dad accuses me of hearing voices, and talks about his men, HUH, whatever that means, if i get too, well we don't get on enough, though he took me to the appeal and it failed, so that changes his opinion of certain men, im thinking the football snooker, but thats almost healed perhaps that is because I do hear her through the birds, I hear each of them...I lay in bed last night, and heard her tell me about Bright, they are too bright, we neither of us like the government much at this moment...I find it hard to stay in that frame of just thinking and not talking to people who fly over in planes...

She says I need a tribe, like I tell her about her tribe, but she says they keep calling her a lion, I have a family, no tribe...that I turn away from good friends...this is true, I have already just sat in the garden to talk to her, but I am here to write to you...

If you can leave a lullaby or a poem in the comments section anonmously, perhaps you'd become part of my tribe...if you wrote to me in the email section wiht any words, CLEAN ;-) because I can't even think in this house, already I'm being accused of typing too loud...

Back to my Grandad, and what he said, as an almost outburst while I quietly stood there, smiling and then making tea; to my Dad...

How he had been to the beatnik party we had organised two nights ago, (this happens when in this world we go to bed and sleep at night, apparentlymy Grandad can't believe we also work there, I had to write a report, on one day's rudeness, and also discussions) how he met a woman in a white dress, and me, except at the time he didn't even know it was me, but there, he knew when he saw me walk into his front room, and that at the time he had no idea who he was talking to,...how I had been talking to him about the baby, the baby was left with the maid, the dogs grabbing his skullcap and eating it in the garden, (I imagine that today as I chase Alfie who was eating my little sister's swimming hat, that being one imagination)...and he talked to another friend of mine, how he wandered who that 'young man' was and I quietly explained it was M, the same man who told me I should find a good man to marry, while I cooked pasta for my sister in the kitchen...and he wondered who that palestinian woman singing at the gig the other night had been, (and he shouted out the men on the snooker, hah!) my shoulders drew back, I PUFFED MYSELF UP and I felt quietly proud, asking how beautful is she? cos I cant even remember it, woke up this afternoon, thinking about blue and white silk low cut dresses, so that thoguht had to stop as I was still thinking about that on the way to the shops,...perhaps Dad thinks we are both mad...
there was only brown hp sauce for the pasta, there is an Irish film about the how a man puts brown sauce in his tea, and it becomes a fad...well, Grandad interjected that talk inbetween other things, like a small amount of racism from talking to someone else, and while I sat quietly on the edge of the sofa, said that we had discussed that anyway at the party, and i think that was the reason for my headache that night...

but, things are getting serious, I thought I heard talk about a tornado, and as I sat in front of the fire, I was told about men who will burn...

, I'm going to bed, gee I'm nearly dead, as Dorothy Parker wrote in big blonde...she said the only reason I had a headache, was because I'm clogged up from smoke and pollution, so no worrying my brother, about having earthquakes in my head and that I'm gonna implode, she also said she's in Hell (she would say that) and that I never do as much good work as she did, so once again that has lowered my self esteem to the point, where I think I'm just going to run away on holiday somewhere this summer, you can come with me, to get some peace in my head, and do sketches, and wander moors, and meet a nicer pace of life...as for working in charity, the only option i thought of today was to get a job in the charity shop, but i didnt cos i fucked up, in fact i just picked up my sister from school, and met a little girl who said she has two tamagotchis, she thought the blue one was a boy, and the pink one a girl but it's the other way round, and a load of kids stood in front of me staring today...and I went in the library on a mission to get a map of Daphnes (yeah, like scooby doo) street, and I want to stand in her street tonight, but that will happen tomorrow and I need to get my boots, cos I'm wearing a new skirt tonight because a friend has told me the real reason the gig place got shut down, there was a fight between the bouncers from a different club caused by someone' wife ( I hung around with her in college) and he got bottled...and it hasn't been shut down, whatever...

and I can't write to save my life, cos I'm annoyed with my Mum..

blah....please write a poem about something good, nothing to do with me, as an anon...

Today

2006-04-26T19:28:00.000-07:00

last night, i copied down a blessing...

she told me I was making her cry, my name is I can...

A bird in the form of a bird told me to go to bed, be a man stump out that cigarette, they are all praying...

it took me three puffs to do so, and I still couldn't sleep...

we spoke, i need to get on with my gardening...

I see her, and then usually before I wake up, once even during the day...I wrote a report last night...

met a brazilian woman at the bus stop last night, and nearly cried again, asked her why she had left brazil, asked her if she knew about the subcommandante, saw her again today and didn't say hello to her smile, maybe I 'll speak to her in her shop, this is what i need to do...

the towns fine, everyone talking having fun, met a woman talking about how a family of solicitors used to live in the big house where they run the mental clinic, how when someone in the fmaily died they left it as a youth centre, and should not have been used for anything else, how when she was a teenager she worked in their putting floorboards in, and that the council should never have replaced it...she parked her car funnily remarked a social nurse, i said perhaps she should have driven it into the bush, something random...agh

....stop....

Why Do We Die These Days But Still Call It A Good Day When It's A No Day And There Are Hundreds To Talk to In the Street But All Strangers..

2006-04-26T18:59:00.000-07:00

first wordsno connection here...interruptions...you say all will go wellif they knew they'd find it hardthat i'll be fine in the cafe eating cheesy toast that i didn't really ask for or didn't turn away anyway, just any food and a place to sit with people, but i walk in and there is only one old man sitting on a chair held in by the table against a wall in the corner on his telephone, and the waitresses are married too and they ask how that man is and i say looking down at the sliced up cheese on a plate, 'i don't see him anymore.' and then i sit on the nearest table smoking while the fumes of the cars rush by the window and the open door, and thye say this time i'm greek, and i line my wrist across the corner of the table, and wipe away tears forming through my ears, teaspoon heaps of sugar into my coffee, spill the edges round the saucer, her husband brings the food and mumbles, 'oh, it's to die for?' i ask him, repeating what i think i hear, and hold my hand round the sugar bowl, and burn my top lip as i drink too quickly, and stuff the food into my mouth with these invisible tears, and tell the woman in the cafe who had kept my lost ring for me, nearly everything, as I change and fall to the table mentally and tell her i should break a plate, 'you shou8ld.', that he hated their food anyway...what the devil in men did...and already the second cigarette won't stop being smoked until i realise i should have left before the last sip of coffee and i'm looking at a girl try to eat too across the room where the old man had sat and heard the news of my marriage, and i leave without digesting as she's on the phone to greece or her dad, telling them what the King Of Ireland has just told her...

And I shouted at a woman today and count that i make three women a week cry.

she tells me the appeal will go through.

I need to read a certain sci fi story...heard something, replied
d Queen Michal did...I wonder if that was how wrote the short story, that i am currently trying to read...or who called her?
it was who called her and the story is Ministers Of Grace By Saki, just started reading it...
I think I work EVERY single day....

Crying For Her...

2006-04-25T16:00:00.000-07:00

there is a song I have, I wandered the streets in the dark past houses, inviting them, could you believe? to a gig, those who were praying invited to a gig, for a woman who had been a good singer in her life, a woman who had read the Koran...someone flew over me yesterday and told me they had been to the gig, lke Pink Floyds dark side of the moon, that song, Great Gig In The Sky, I have no recollection of it, I got left out in the rain in my eyes, and as I sat at a table waiting for a lift home at 10 that night, heard 'we are waiting'...time to sleep, but the television of mogs eating my dreams was being watched by my dad downstairs, they now seem to have a knowledge of Kabbalah, but the singer got me on the telephone crying and blaming my dad, because I could not sleep...I ACTUALLY see her eyes, before I sleep into dreams of other worlds, they discuss me and say I am too Irish, I belive I am a Hebrew man, there, but we don't call it 'up there'...the song was she said, written for 'you and I'...or maybe I think egotistically, we wrote it??

'I flew to you...

you wrote me long distance, you screamed my name...

no guns, new yawning'
like I do at times now, when I wake up, yawn and stretch out my arms fully...

it brings tears, and I play it when I am crying her, I don't know the artist, Micah, someone, I look it up for you...

she talks to me through the birds, and you have to understand what that is like, I have found this so hard, thinking almost everything is dead...My little sister, breathes strangely in her sleep and I hear over and over again:

'we are not dead.'

I clasp my hands together and pray for her to stop saying that, but I am praying in the closeness, and she finally moves round in her bed and stops, it is hard to breathe here, we live on a main road...
'like the opposite to excorcist' I tell her the next day...

I saw a man with a beard hold a baby, just before I wake up one morning...today I kick a Lion King ball underneath my feet, a baby lion...

I had a weird dream this morning involving my own family, sitting on swings next to my grandad in the middle of a supermarket carpark...

I discussed all day yesterday, could they come back in a space cruiser? knock on my door today? would she be there knocking on my door, in a kind of green dress, I imagned as she said she would wear green, and she would have drove over in a stolen car, appeard in a country cabin, with a baby in her arms, BUT they would have called us both gay I hear, so then what if she turned up as a man, with a baby in her arms, dark hair, bright eyes, or perhaps in disguise as a blond, in the cigarette shop, and would I be running down the stairs to open the door, and have a heart attack, would we have to have benefits to live on, or would we be rich like she said? how old would she be? my age? a little older? how could she come live here and die here, there are so many impossiblities, if she came here would she/we get back?? and all those arguements and discussions with the others...where she get a bank account, will she really send me a gold letter to my door....IMPOSSIBLE in this world...it almost happened but I explained how dangerous it would be...

We are not dead...I wrote a poem last night, when I went to bed as early as possible, reading Paddington Bear, but I don't rate it...here it is anyway, 2 minutes drafting:

it seems terror is there, when you speak of hope
it shows hell is here, when our voices are broken
if the whole world revovled around our bed
every 'i love you' would be snatched between their teeth,

you told me you would be here tomorrow
i prepare for you by crying on the floor
the dog will wake me barking, hoping you will knock on the door,

each one has turned to jester
my life is dull, you say, eyes flash left though i'd need an eyepatch for every wrong act and word heard,
the telephone lines are crying,
you are waiting for me to get to the party
i asked if you could come back today...

See, stuck, fearful words, lame...

I managed to write two emails to friends today, after finally getting over this crying depression...I woke up crying her today, but I am meeting a friend today too,

'what will be, will be.'

The flat won't be finished for another 4 to 6 weeks due to the firemen breaking the electricity meter...hell. i mean heck.

Mass Breakdown

2006-04-22T13:52:00.000-07:00

now, things have been funny, depressing, good, but that could all be a paradoxical LIE, nope.

I went on a trip to the shopping centre, bought my CD player, three women of African orgin were in the queue in a shop much like a 1984 style place, big plastic boxes in front of a warehouse, talking about me, look I'm behind you, I finally say, but they make me laugh, wish I could remember the whole conversation, the woman at the counter serves me a ticket, I am thinking about her, 'we made love', 'no we didn't', she says matter of factly sitting upright on her chair, I go to sit down and tell these women as they are sitting behind me in the row of chairs, they laugh out loud, LIKE WHAT SHE THINKS YOU WERE TELLING HER YOU TWO DID, wahahahaha!! I hold my hands to my mouth a lot trying not to laugh, biting my hand, for shouting I have a Judah wife, so that is, trouble... this is impossible to write my brain has disappeared, she says write...

I got my sword back this evening, I have seen a friend who has promised to run to Ireland with me, she has told me where Daphne lives...I WAS TOLD TO CHOOSE

Things are fine in the shopping centre I wander around waiting to meet a friend when he gets out of work, and go to a shop to look at tiffany lamps for the hundredth time, I stare at them taking in the chandeliers, think, I don't have he moeny to buy them, she tells me we already have those, I feel better, wander through the designer walkway looking at dresses and clothes, she doesn't like one flowery pyshdelic lowcut dress I look, at and I don't like myself, what about that for a joke, LOOK I FORGET EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS 'too tarty', long white gowns are fine...

I am an idiot during the day, she says; but other times I am not...

A couple of women give me a dirty look, headcovered women, I feel tears in my eyes as I walk back into the shopping centre, assume it's because they see my clark kent glasses and a cigarette hanging out of my mouth...she told me not to wear green...

prat

Get into an arguement with a muslim couple in topshop as I try on some stupid dumb slipper things, hear something about houris, say no this is you being with God, something like that...find a stupendous pair of very modern abstract yet casual and stylish trainers in Faith...I am just wandering in a daze, window shopping in fact, and knowing I would like a new pair of trousers, but may as well walk around Ireland, like, to the Ring Of Kerry, looks amazing, a whole blue bay covered in pink flowers....

Then go to get a pepsi, so I can jack myself up to meet friend, all the while making sure that I actually look at people, like only looking at people helps...realise with horror, that the football commenter has blasted his piggishness out on the TV screens, suddenly everything drops in the atmosphere, and I walk quickly away with my pepsi into the pet shop to buy millet, and out again past a an italian looking woman with a husband shouting at him about the men in the football...

bump into an aquaintance at met at the gig place, whihc incidently got closed down by the council last night, because they want ENGLISH bouncers, AGHGHGHGAHGH, so no where else to go round here, he looks freaked, says something like 'do you know what it's like having 24 hours solid sleep.' Think vaguely I go through weeks of sleep...his eyes are bugging out of his head like he can feel the atmosphere and keeps clicking his lighter intensely I tell him to please not to, and lets go outside and smoke, he tells me about a new club night somewhere run by some men, do not tell him what I think of them, but say I'm not going...meet another friend of his, she looks at me like dirt and basically tells me to 'shoo'...I get his phone number...

friend apparently no longer works in his place of work, and so I get bus home, african origin girl is on phone at bus stop, 'don't give me that shit....[gigplace]' WHAT!!!!!!!...so, all the african women zionists are going nuts...two of them run around looking a bus, PLEASE I'll just help you find a bus, thinking to myself 'call'....YES WE'LL CALL THEM they shout...already thinking I have to get my family out of this hell, because the other family are too forgiving, like my Dad is going mad on some shit, I dunno, including a earlier text to perverted insane cousin, to 'tell him off'...he has not replied probably running scared or has no money to text back, or don't give a shit....

I sit on the bus, there is a couple there, a black guy says something about God to them, they lookas short as money as I would be, have a baby, the baby cries while some pig says look I'm eating like a pig behind you, reply I don't care, and start signing, lalala, baby don't cry...look at baby as I walk off, his eyes look wide and light and suprised, babies, funny, my cousin's baby laughs at my funny ugly face a lot...apparently I have put God in that couple, I hear her through the birds during the day, and when I sat by the river yesterday I heard her through the waters...

Go Home, Little Brother is there, tell him I called in Africa, I am being implored to right, and write beautiful poetry...he starts going on about Hitler to American kids on his internet game connection, and hollering at me while I'm trying to train the puppy Alfie into being able to sit and heel, he gets distracted, I try to read a book about Colours, not writing, read white, then flip to Ink, while little sister and little brother have a fight, she tells him, you think Rimbaud was a dog!!!, I just wanna relax and he's hollering at us to get out of the fornt room, thinking she will go so mad, but cook little sister hotdogs when she tells me she hasn't had dinner yet again, and eat tuna and sweetcorn, which I don't eat and sing over the food,

that I will give her baby

I have to borrow his friends bicycle and pray and talk about tiffany lamps on the way to the shop,

Go to bed, but there is an haredi girl imposter talking through the tv, God give her white eyes I say as rub my eyes, and think why has my bed on the floor been moved closer to the window, think about how it's gonna keep being moved until I slide down out the window and down the roof, 'a jew would laugh at that.' Keep hearing pig, and then someone say we've both gone mad...Daphne perhaps, but that crap gets confusing...

Little sister is asleep, but says mumbling as I mumble, 'you are not giving her a baby here.' AGREED, but I would be asleep anyway, and think while I am hearing haredi girl who was apparently sold a plasma or daphne, or someone who says i was in her bedroom, which i doubt, think of an image of a family, and hold a sword again, which I had broken two nights ago...
so, I'm awake...

Understand I will get a handle on this...writing this is writing this is....nothing....

no title,

2006-04-22T13:33:00.000-07:00

I am having panic attacks, and find I am now brainless, cannot tune the d-string, or any other strings, wrote a poem, did not like it, wrote 'epic notes' on the side of the paper, worte another one at my nan's, left it there, she has probably read it, great

i do not deserve this, i am waiting for a phonecall, someone is going to cut my hair, someone else, is telling me, i should not cut my hair, i am being hounded by an echo of devilish men, but not today, i put imaginary toe rings on my toe

we had a fight, i broke a sword
she said we were finished,
she uh hum, said you know why i call them spics, so i walked away

we are fine...

when the nightmare happened i said; then tomorrow there will be no light,
i wake up today to sunshine today, and the dog has woken me up and said

'wake up to your queen.'

So, she said there would be light today, but she will still not be quiet, and her brother argues with me...

watch out for the Mog s, witches in the sky....distingiush
remember still to pray, I read the Book too

I woke up with a pencil chewing in my hand, but do not have a pencil in my hand...

I wrote England is falling, keep me away from the televisual government, and remember the female reporters are finally telling men off for threatening me with Mohammdin bombs...

Now you know what they are....keep quiet....

Next some poetry, if I can, everything is calm, I am meeting a friend today if he remembers to call....

I am not jewish, that is the agreement
but perhaps, threatening me with turning babies into bees, and men that tell me to have a bath into magpies, is giving me the shakes yesterday....i will not talk to those men...

AGH, I do not know why she loves me, I have been told to be quiet and in love, like i have to be told,

today is fne but boring, i'm going back to drink the rest of my caffreys...

Have a good Saturday...

What I Have Just Discovered And Am Careful, Or Not,To Write.

2006-04-20T20:25:00.000-07:00

friday:

Leave an easter egg for the high priestesses
the high priest calls me a pig.
the dog eats the egg.

tell me not to worry about the temple, sure it's being looked after
saturday:

day:

the high priest returns and tells me they were true light.

she tells me I AM THE KING OF IRELAND
we say together, yes and you are my davidian wife, a daughter,
I tell her 'acidously' that I hate Ireland
She says it was God's gift to me...and if I say this again, she jokingly says she will throw a tornado at me, I tell her to think about my family in this region. No tornados. Here.

sunday:
Remember a friend, who has recently been killed, I have found it hard to greive, but threw lots of things and the floor and blurted out, I want them down, Dov.

ban television...have four hours sleep, waking up in a low voice in front of a cookery programme, talking about Heaven and Earth. Realise we have cancelled the earthquake, that day.

monday:

Go to tell my family, don't talk about my family. Have a fight with my mother, stab her in the arm with a teaspoon. See my Grandmother. Two african women walk past the house and shout that there has been an earthquake in Africa. Old Mrs. Sikh neighbour shouts at the children outside, after hearing me talk aloud about my troubles in an empty house, am unable to sleep, and very hungry from lack of food. She tells them to pray to God, or else, she screams and becomes a warrior, I warn her she may be being too naggging, playing football is fine. And tell my Aunty, she takes me back to the towerblock where there is still no electricity, I talk to her as though I am warning her what will happen if I go back near that man with the television, my cousin tells her off on the phone, she gives me bread and cheese to eat.

The 'man upstairs' plays his loud television, someone shouts Nazis on live TV, I automatically scream Cossacks, (do not know what they word means) Please turn the television down, and Spic bitches, losing control, when I hear that word I feel shot in the head, sing Sacre au dela Sacre. Until I feel better and can sleep. We sing together.

Tuesday morning:

I speak to her that morning, she is reading a book, NO I AM NOT WRITING A BOOK,

THEY ARE SELLING YOU, SELLING ME, SHE IS UPSET, she has long hair, I do not want to go to sleep, so, she tells me to go to bed. I have been lying around often and sitting in the garden, crying often...

I TELL HER I LOVE HER, SHE KISSES ME ON THE HEAD, MY HEART FINALLY BEGINS TO HEAL AND GET FULLER.

WE ASK FOR THOSE AROUND US TO BRING BACK LOVE. I decide to go out, perhaps wander into town, feeling 'high', Dad has my prescription though and has unfortunately forgotten to pick up the medication.

This becomes a problem of not being able to sleep.

Next a voice in the plane flies over, I hear her say something and instead of usually calling them Mogs, or speaking to them, I holler get f******* in hell....

Next: I immediately say God Forgive ME, throw the blanket over my head, cry and cry for most of the night, God shouts No, twice, I see bugs and spiders when I sleep, and believe I am damned and want to get up and cut every part of my body. I lie there thinking I will cut my feet. But that I am too cowardly to do so. Or rather that I shouldn't cut, I see more images when I close my eyes, someone turns into a demon in the sky and screams, mentionning someones name in that, I feel myself change into a man, and I am shouting, 'but you're my wife!!!' I close my eyes again, and see birds, and say them out loud, eagle, a child's hand, father christmas, bird, and then a dog with a red and white collar, and large teeth...I listen to Jumble explain to me and somehow I sleep...

she tells me, that the drawings were drawn by a child but the drawing of the vicious dog was of me...that I shouldn't have mixed my Olanzapine pill with Risperdel, as I had had to take a pill to sleep in the towerblock,

she asks me why they are saying we are both gay...I find it impossible to explain...

Today:

This morning we make love, I have a pencil in my hand ready to write, a poem perhaps, but THEY ARE BREAKING OUR BED actually wake up to go out and get cigarettes, feel 'great.'
I play guitar, have no words in me, do not make breakfast. she tells me to be quiet and in love.

Laugh at MTV, or rather hate it, my Dad arrives, and plays snooker on TV, tells me off, I hear her telling me she will pull out my eyes, for being near bad tzimtzum.

Later, The Tribe Of Gad gets involved, to plead, perhaps I am still going through this...a man tells me not to cry, to tell her NOT to talk to me, but she talks to me, I cannot tell her to be quiet, though I say she must not talk to me, I do not know what to do, told to meditate, unable, run a bath and try to carry on as normal as dad had threatened that I had gone mad again as I was laughing with my sister and brother, most likely wiht the devil, though it was an hysterical laughter, WIFE says she doesn'tcare about Gad, I warn her.

she talks to me, I haev a bath, though she tells me NOT to, nothing else I can do to remain with 'normality' in this house, I am told not to talk to him, assume my father or brother for earlier. Want to perhaps hit my brother, but they say not to. Do not want to anyway.

I am trying to remain quiet while my sister plays in the bedroom, and face the window, tell her about righthandness, etc. discussion, warn her not to talk to me. she believes they are blaming her for tornados.

As I play guitar again, brother talks about dog's poo. She says she does not want po in the house.

TV is on, sing you are my lion from zion. feel pathetic.

...which is perhaps a good thing right now.
kick dog gently
ently, as am annoyed at being told to bring him back into the kitchen, have not eaten, my little sister informs me now that no-one has cookd dinner, I will do so.

They tell me someone has been too hitler. Will not tell me whom.

This is still perhaps in discussion, and though I am calm, I am sure all will be for the best. Have worried that England will fall....

LOVE WITH.

I will be fine, I am going to bed early with a pill, I will sleep.

will not tolerate, my wife being called a *******, and what they are calling me too.

i wont even write it then.

Sacre Au Dela Sacre

2006-04-16T13:29:00.000-07:00

I was told to write this last night. like a poem, this is brand new news...

Hello Kuan Yin...yes, I will call him 'Eddy', if he gets confused one more time.

I have to think and hear good things. For example, I thought to myself in bed last night, that I am resting on my laurel leaves. SUDDENLY, I am resting in a bed of laurel leaves...we talk about when we were grieving...and what happened, I get confused calling her Isabel, but I remembered that is the name of my sister's baby.

I am married, already, i am stupid, i have a big mouth. I have to stop calling the women that fly over, Mogs. Or I get called a Mog. That is humour.

Let me have another cup of tea and rewrite this.

Serious

2006-04-15T00:41:00.000-07:00

this is hard for me to write:

Thursday Night,

I keep imaging myself falling by the wardrobe in my sisters room, collapsing...I hear the dog again, grumbling in his sleep... try to think about the Good Friday ahead, but don't want to think about their death, am told not to.

Something happens, and if you understand a few things about what tey call magic, and God...then...this is so hard for me to write...

I try to think about Jesus, and put my hands together and feel my body full of light, i get confused about hearing the dog, I say to myself please don't have put Jesus in him...

I have visions before I sleep, paintings, pictures in a futuristic 1930's style of demonic animals, a bull lowering it's horns, pictures I'm sure I have seen before, my head starts to feel full, of some kind of light, the dog tells me I am about to meet Dovid...I wonder if he means the old man I have met

'Don't call him an old man, he is a brother.'

I am sooo scared of falling asleep, I twist and turn in bed, at some moment feeling an 'aura' around my heart, but then try to concentrate my mind...I hold a hand to the side of my head, I'm not ready, hear:

'Hold the line..'

I sleep eventually when there are no planes flying over...

Yesterday I wake up...I know that King Dovid has been crying and I repeat this throughout the day...I act normally as much as posible, I wander into my Dad's room where he is sleeping to borrow some socks, he says:

'Kind David was crying.'

I sit around all day in the garden, and wander out twice in the day to buy cigarettes, I have missed church from waking up late...I borrow a bicycle in the front garden, and drive through the puddles, it had been raining that morning, sunny for most of the day, I hear someone talking about Gay men, and I get annoyed just as someone I can hear through the televison picks up what I am saying to myself in the kitchen, I think it is 'daphne', she gets annoyed I forget I heard her yesterday, she doesn't want us to be associated with gay men, and I Don't Want This Man in Me That Changes 'Magically' At Night to be called a gay man, and I don't want Our King to be either...

Alfie, barks in the garden that some people are 'Edomite C**&'...I don't know he picked that up from.

Anyway, I walk to the shop, and wander past an old man, he looks at me lifting two fingers round the dogs lead, and says:

'You got two then....'

I feel better after that, even in this town called Pied Cow, as Zarathustra called it, read the chapter about sleep.

In the shop I feel I should celebrate, for killing two Edomites or Aliens. But I look very proud underneath my scatty hair and my hood, and I get asked for I.D. But I am polite enough just to put the bottle of beer down, and sit in the street against a shop window, the King Of The Dogs occasionally tries to piss on my feet...I smoke a cigarette and think about buying some wine.

I heard a story from The Innuit Ghost, a girl that lived below me in the Towerblock, who used to hear me sing and go crazy at the man upstairs, and other things, I used to read books out loud to her...I hear she has been locked up, this must have been months ago, 'What the F*&( did you do?' I think...she told me about the man she had in her bedsit one night, he was her 'devil' of a boyfriend, how she had been in trouble...I got worried about her for months, which in a way led me to going mad...I think she is in a mental hospital, though I hear after this long discussion on TV, which I stay away from (due to all the energy and 'Other Side' occurances in the bedsit, and my love/worry) that she will be let out soon...for a while I was getting her confused with Daphne, 'They are gonna keep calling us Dykes!!!!'...In fact I worried, aftr Daphne hearing me mumble while I skethced about Dovid crying, that she was going to be locked up, because I didn't realise I would hear again and she had a kind of break, or break out...I was thinking about computers outside a computer shop, how I could have bought her one, or her Mum can buy her one,at the same time as sitting on the bike, 'left break, brake.'...

I wanted to drink a glass of wine...I didn't, I can't write this with distractions...

Just Talking Like A Child Today...

2006-04-13T22:43:00.000-07:00

playing bookworm, just woken up, feeling groogy, thereis jam jammed inthekeyboard, prevents the buttons from making that all so headaching noise though, I hear someone fly over...

'oh this town doesn't look so bad.'

I am quietly thinking 'tourettes' playing the game...

'why didn't you help us?' replies the old woman...the Queen of Sweden??

'I went mad, ma'am.' jumps out my frozen words...

'So did Harry.'

.......................

Wonder why Im writing this now, walked out of the toilets in the pub...some Irish women talking, say

'Cherubs.'

I jump out drunkenly for a laugh, bighead like I said to my friend I was...

'Don't call your King a Cherub.'

They peer round to look at me as I stand at the bar...and I let them look, and then walk away.

.......................

No, dreams, my sister came back here after a call from the traffic police, I call them traffic wardens when they stand in the house looking around at things, her boyfriend had dumped her on the motorway after going to a club...she drunkenly makes the same mistakes I do, reminding me of him, by phoning her boyfriend constantly, as he hangs up, the same night...
I hear the traffic police's radio, a girl or young woman, screaming, claiming the man she is with is a Nazi, I am relaxed and tired and just groan, no one else hears it apart from the traffic police, in one instance I imagine it is some woman at work playing a joke, or another girl dumped in the road...

.......................

I am calm, have looked up at the skies, lying on a bench and made silly talk, the trees look german expressionist, the atmosphere is calm and clouds are dotted about, I have looked up at the sky and my eyes have flashed...I am drawing more sketches and I think I heard Daphne and told her I love her, jokingly and seriously, playing a game, she doesn't have a computer, i think she has the power to talk to me, I remember hearing her tell her mother she is gay, I play bookworm, words like buy, BI...

'No, I'm gay.'

She is scared of even leaving the house to go to the library, her agoraphobia, I am getting quietly annoyed that she has to do this, and keep leaving the room to smoke, tell her since I met her I'm HAVE washed but have just been smoking cigarettes, though my clothes stink like I did when I met her, and keep smoking like I did when I met...it's funny for her to know that I only met her because I got dragged to the clinic after threatening to kill a man,

and probably myself...

I tld her about Qabalah, to explain a few things while I sketched in the kitchen and made noodles...

BUT if I hear her tomorrow I will go mad, and I have already assumed her brother, this is silly, someone now knows her brother is not her husband, but I could have told them, that. An interesting day. I remind her we only kissed...she confirmed that we DID, 'make love'...'kissed'...and calling out SHE on the bookworm game made her tell me she is mostly definately NOT a she...

God says I need my light and dark, back...I drew a hideous picture of things I have wanted to do to evil men, score crucifixes in their chests and then stab them in the heart...this upset God, and I realised the picture actually looked like a cute cartoon in the rain, so I have thrown it away...this was not dark, I think more:

comfortable/happy

pub talk.

'Little boo peep lost her sheep,
gimme three bags of wool.'

F U All, I Wanna Get Married

2006-04-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

We just found the chain of evolution, the continuity through time’
(quote from Associated Press)

I have just found a solution, though I have not discussed it with him yet...

Write to Mexican, tell him I would wish to marry him
Leave this country, meet him in a country I am red-taped in
Move to South America
Wander around selling bracelets, and talking about God
Have siestas on mountains, smoke pure majurana.
Remember that I liked his wizard looks first, but spoke to the other one.
Remember that my criteria for being a wife is that:
I can boil a decent runny egg.
I'm nice to dogs now.
I often cry over the 'insensitive' world.
And I'd like to be a jewish zapatista (lol_0

I mean't .meet.

This sounds abruptly cruel, but it opens up whole possibilities of a good new life...and I doooo like him. Only like, sounds very unenthusiastic, but I don't have a care for what you think at the moment.

Give that man 10.

Birdies and Doggies, and God.

2006-04-12T16:44:00.000-07:00

"pretty polly is a pigeon
she's got a gammy leg
and she'll eat anything."

Sheffield Shanty, by an 'unknown' artist.

So, I talked to the birdies today, or rather I listen to them, they like the songs I've been playing. I forget what they said, but it was highly important, God is calm, I hope, after the news I heard yesterday in the rain...they "don't blame you [me]",' even though a queen had been going mad out there, not 'up' there in Heaven...I put my hands together last night, when I went to bed, and my little brother had a meeting during his sleepover, he had heard it too, he told his friends he had had enough of the 'demons' outside in their cars circling the area like some forgotten misfortune of too much. He had a scarf round his chin and a cap on, I think he bought it in Spain, I like it, a communist hat...He told his friends he was going to pray for her, I heard all this whilst eating chocolate sandwiches in bed, thinking I should just eat, wandering around the house, making food, and then eating in the bedroom, feeling guilty and going through this problem, wanting to sit downstairs and talk to him, he was also looking up something on the computer and so I told him the story of this queen, and then tried to sleep, and so i then put my hands together and felt something lifted and golden. Baby sister spoke in her sleep as my brother talked in the front room downstairs, 'we are safe'...that was a reassurance, and so I felt it best to go to sleep, although I told them it was hard for me to get any sleep. I think little bro told my Mum who wandered round the house putting Alfie back in his cage, that he was going to fight for God. Alfie was promised a long walk by me yesterday, so he could meet more doggies and tell them he is King Of the Dogs, he enjoyed his walk, but I didn't. He has become something of a guard dog, sticking up for me against neighbours by hollering and barking in the garden, though he continues to piss around the house and even almost pissed on me, so I find this new moniker of his rather appalling at times.

I think you all know what is happening by now...I hear upper worlds, there are also 10 lesser worlds...

A man outside, (or should I write about the prostitutes first? yes, I was up late Friday night, on the sofa this time, unable to sleep, and I hear one in a car outside with a man, I hear him tell her she has been paid to talk, no doubt spying on me, then I hear 'If you don't act more Goy, you're dead', so my plan is to walk to the kitchen and eat some bacon sandwiches, I think about getting up and making some food and think about a man, 'honey are you telling me he was on the rent.' I find her question exsperating though it's funny, prostitutes seem to be able to talk with me well, they have a down to earth attitude, but I think they should be more American or Jackie Brown in their outlook, and tell these men who drive around with a tinge of fascism that they are idiots, or, perhaps, steal their money, give them a slap in the face...whatever, I explained to her he had actually said as a joke that he tells his friends he has lots of girlfriends...much more down to earth, but indeed I do not laugh and stay as quiet as possible...) is a demon. This is indeed an ancient profession, and I am ancient in other ways. Like, I was married once, but he had no idea, so I divorced him by shouting at him, many times. Modern roles.

This is perhaps a Holy War, all undoubtably a local disaster, I am sure that going back to that flat when it is finally built, will create some more problems, (it was burnt down, as my neighbour was in fear of his life, all local gang attitudes, I forget my life tilters on the underground, not that I ever get involved with this stuff) but not, IF my social workers finally understand that I need a good neighbour, and it is in a quiet area, without flight paths flying over.)

I had another of those conversations two nights ago, but I find it impossible to think about and mull over...I took it as a metaphor, that this woman, going a little mad, was a representation of God, being locked up in a bedroom, and telling me, 'you didn't even give me an apartment!', mean't that I hadn't (as the dog said to the king) HONOURED GOD...I have been trying to think HOW I can possibly honour God...

She talked to me, about how he hadn't given me an apartment, a little lyrical rhyme for you on one of my bad days:

I said, all you gave me was an apartment,
she said, he hadn't given you an apartment,
and he said she said
you didn't even give me an apartment,

what a load of rubbish,

she was crying in her bed, her face was in the pillow, she said, 'i can't believe we both finally read each other!', i metamorphisized into something you could call a man, just lying there in bed listening to her, impossible to talk to her, felt, it's hard to explain calmer, like I had given up my own problems in that hour or so, i could see her, and i felt, waht? bigger, like my whole body became fuller, not bigger, fuller, this is a conversation I shouldn't be writing about, almost sacred, you'd could call it, i just listened in the dark, baby sister wakes up and drops one of her toys on the floor, 'that one made you go mad.' i explain it wasn't her that made me go mad, (but I don't even know who it is) it was those men in that house, this woman is almost going mad herself, 'you took the doggies for a walk.' I say nothing or, yes i did...she shouts up at her ceiling with 'you didn't even give me an apartment!'...and the conversation filters away as a plane flies over, another dangerous annoyance, or the sight, and I go to sleep but ponder over it for the last two days now...and shout and shout and shout and get everything wrong.

And I took the doggy for a longer walk today...God is in my family, and in my Dog's though I find it hard to keep sane...

I am also thinking about 'daphne.'

I feel awful, I think I have headlice, I'm sleeping in dirt, and I have spots from smoking too much and not breathing and not eating enough fruit...erkkkkkkkkk

God is in my family, I'm proud of my brother at last, I had to tell him as I wandered back into the house through the rain that after the way he had been talking to me and my family these last few days:

'Your mouth is a crime.'

Though I find it hard to tell him off without giggling, when I'm being a girl. I find it very hard to get angry...the other night, I screamed at all the deomons lurking outside, but instead worried a neighbour...and I get too weak...

No, I'm not quite losing it...

Om-ing The Domin

2006-04-09T12:10:00.000-07:00

domin the domanatrix
too oming with your domin
you are oming
bloody hippies
who would have thought
be red
be blue think red blue i beg of you
who would have thought oming would make a domin
om-ing would have made a domin
om-ing domin

I once OM-ed, I do not recommend it, I once O.M.D...I am sorry, I have just been crying and 'rapping' my mistakes, and events to myself...om-ing the domin, i think domin means assembly, but I do not know...how to write this?

I once, said the word Om, es, it all occurred in that bedsit, I saw another image of someone looking at me, with flashing green eyes, 'I thought you were dead!'...I now know this is in a SOAD song, a warning too late from them perhaps...

I thought of someone when that happened, I tell myself without even thinking of the words as I walk out barefoot in the rain on the patio, pacing to and fro, that I should not have thought of her name in the midst of this alien encounter, IF I can think they are aliens, all this blame lies on angels. Her name, was a sister of an ex of mine who was very beautiful and amongst other things, walked over, I call her silver. I don't know what I am writing right now. I jsut wonder how they are. I get annoyed and accuse them of saying she was 'retarded'. Perhaps I am 'dumb' as my sister says, my little sister hears me and the Lhasa Apso talk, when he tells me I am not talking to a dog, but to the Buddha in him, I say, 'don't fart on this bed.' and she laughs in her sleep, I keep hoping she can have good dreams, and I have wished this for the last few nights. When my brother came home today, he was immediately assailed by the Lhasa Apso, shouting at him for calling Michal a dog. This is either laughs or tears. The Lhasa Apso, tells me about a man I had once met, and this has caused lots of sadness in me, and little hope, and then lots of joy, and then questions and reasonings, and circumstance and unfortunately even my baby cousin was actually 'singing' this information as though it will end up being good news.

I keep putting on a pointless tired 'foreign' voice, in the middle of typing this...

I saw an 'old' friend today and we talked a lot though often I do not listen and told him so, he has been reading Isiah, I asked him if he had got to the 'end of the world' bit, and said that is why I don't read it, I also told him revelations is a 'black book'..., he thinks I should see a minister, I told him myself I need to speak to someone but i said i do not know if this man could handle it, he is calling him tonight or tomorrow, I would rather carry on, or perhaps talk, and I kept mentioning that I would prefer to go to catholic church, though I think I can talk straight to this man and explain some things or he could himself...my friend is planning to live in Poland to work as a caretaker in a church there because he loves the country, the 'chivalry'...LQ...laugh. quietly...he draws strange doodles, of plants eating people, and I told him I have drawn a 'pigdog'.

When I got up today, I smoked a cigarette first thing in the morning, all I have done for most of this day is smoke and sit there thinking or not thinking while I play tetris and lemmings.

I have many things to think about especially one particular memory that came to mind on Level 7 of tetris, a dream of someone of when I was a teenager, and I said to her and myself, 'all you gave me was that apartment'...and it then started to rain intensely.

The Lhasa Apso, refused to walk through the rain to the shop today, we had crossed the road and he had stopped completely, shivering, I tried to drag him a little, and then I picked him up and carried him and then put him down again but he would not move and he lifted his right paw, and I talked to him and checked his paw but could see no injury, I picked him up again and carried him until the rain stopped a little, and he was warmer...

When I woke up this morning, or rather early afternoon, I looked at the state of my tatty hair, in the window and at how skinny I am, but then, I thought of a video I had seen of that young woman who had been kidnapped by the men claiming these people are Christian Crusaders, how I am too miserable when I do absolutely nothing like they do, no work for God, just this strange outer thinking, constant thinking and arguing, and praying, though never praying enough, and then just wnating to selfishly get on with any kind of life, and find the things that will make me happy, and I sat down finally on that sofa, with a cup of tea, and now my back aches, while my parents watched Golf, as though I was thinking a little prayer, and my hands felt light, as though there was some stronger power in there. But I did not stay on the sofa for long, and ran back upstairs to sit on the bed, to keep out of the way of my parents and the televison, for christians once wrote that it was 'pagan to pray in public', Jesus was said to actually said this and I understand this very well, but of course only in certain circumstances.

The Lhasa Apso, jumped on my bed last night, and slept by my feet, I am not the type to let dogs jump on my bed, I am not the type to keep dogs, but I am finally caring about them. The other dog Alfie now believes he is King Of The Dogs. I notice he challenged another dog in the street:

'Who do you think you are??!!!' the other dog said.

''Keep 'em white, mate!' replies Alfie. He is very much an Alfie sort. He shouts a lot at the neighbours, particularily one girl who seems to stand in her backgarden, giving me criticisms and advice. I hope to God, she is not a dog.

Yes, this is almsot heartbreaking, but I can get on with things. This keyboard does not work very well, and so my writing is stilted and my back hurts, and often I get pins and needles, and walk about like an old woman, I need to buy a bicycle, and do some exercise, and I am very depressed about never seeing that girl who will remain called a random letter for now.

NO OM-ing The Domin, my hippy friends.

Flippance Of Heart Outburst Breaks, and Meetings With A Girl Called Yoda.

2006-04-08T23:08:00.000-07:00

when it is possible to write I will write...flashfilmimages of another dimension, where I am sitting once again a 4:00am in my parents kitchen, watching and listening, the shadows flickering blue and yellow, and I am in the bedist in the dark, this time instead of crouching on the floor eating my chinese takeaway, I am sitting on the bed with no electric lights and a woman falls through my door with a bag of many books, and sits on the pile, ready to talk to me, dressed in an Orthodox style, but I am sure I do not want to read those books and I say so, chewing on my food, depressed and acting ( I got on a shuttle bus once, and a woman on her mobile phone said she was here on the bus with someone, and me, 'the actress'.) the flash image film finishes, because I make nothing more of it...a real flash film image comes into my mind, a film i once saw, a film about a film about, about women in Palestine, I walk stagger up the stairs, buy an orange juice and watch stories of murder and war, through bars on a comfortable sofa, alone, I sit on the stairs and take part in a discussion, somehow a girl appears, around my age, looking into my face, I looked down, look at her clothes, her sandals, I move down one step, she follows, smiling, I move down to the next step, she follows, we do not speak to each other, a woman says;

'I didn't understand the film.'

I ask if she didn't understand the film because it hadn't come to any conclusion, were the women proud of fighting, did they have any regret for fighting in the 1969 war or forgiveness for what they say the men did to them in prison? I am told to be quiet, I have so much and so little to say, the girl stands up and leans over the banisters shouting at this woman, I am sitting on the bottom step, and then...she leaves. And I stay stuck to the steps...

Now someone has given me books instead of films.

Sad Women In The Sky

2006-04-07T23:51:00.000-07:00

and...she is there...

.......

I don't know how it happened, don't ask how it happened, the martian ships flew over;

'be quiet the children are sleeping.'

'My children are sleeping too.'

I tell her to speak to her husband instead.

'He's dead.'

Think, he's either sitting there next to you sleeping, he's dead in a pyschological/meta-physical sense. Or, he's dead. So I'm telling her about dreams of families or whatever, I'm tired not sure what comes into my head, about being a mother, strangely turns into being a father with these fleeting ideas and seriously pondered jokes almost, and how I can't sleep. And, I tell her, as I think about how I used to try and breathe next to him, so I could sleep, regular breathing;

'I have to learn how to breathe on my own.'

And she says, sombrely or otherwise, as she floats away, if I can remember the words:

'And you're leaving me with that.'

And I hear a child's voice:

'She hasn't left you! You've left her!'

...........

I don't know how many languages I speak...

che cosa la vostra missione?

portiamo el notizie....what news do you bring to mother earth? i bring news della terra de madre.

Comedy And Tragedy

2006-04-06T02:28:00.000-07:00

damascus gate...sept 2005 ( a woman I saw, in a white gown with hair over her face swaying in the market place, the background was changed, just changed to a kind of darkness that moves round someone)

Straight From Diary in Middle Of Sicko Words, hence the stilted writing, and edits through brackets...

[American Friend] has not written back for two weeks, either caught up in the tornado which has traversed across America (or tired of me telling him not to bother to pray for my family, because...(Mum says Buddhists monks and all holy people are egotistical and selfish, perhaps in my account they are but I am about to tell you I have been on a mission, failed and suceeded many times in these last few weeks) through to Tennessee. He was living in Oklahoma with his brother.

My brother has just been punched in the shoulder by me, for making me hear his words. (He puts on also, a disparaging accent, (in other words Arabic) missed his face because...)

He has been continually referring to me as Gay Michal. So...last night I think I spoke to her, perhaps I met her in that dream when I was woken up in the bedsit to that other hellian.

The words she gave me:

BE WHITE, WE WEPT

An old nag flying overhead said;

'she's stuck up.' having to talk to them in this...

'Agh, I can feel you going up my nose!'

'great, now I'm stuck up her nose.'

(also someone says tonight be quiet 'we are cleaning the devil', I have been doing my utmost to help, complete this mission or exacerbate it, by discussing things such as a reading of The Great Treatise in I-Ching, that seems an important chapter, reading A child's version of The Oydessy, finding out that the most meditative thing to do is to clean dog's poo off my sisters trainer, and needing to relax and sleep and cry a lot, like today, I have also dropped my 'life', mobilephone down the toilet, getting a new one will be much better, a new life...)

I break off the conversation, but lay on my back almost chanting;

'feather pillows, double bed.'

I tell her I feel raped, (or the word just jumps into my head, such an easy word to use, what other word is there though?) and a soft flow goes into my heart, but there is no opportunity for an absolute healing.

I lay there arms crossed, or holding a sword in my right hand, and feel my feet glow.

Interrupted.

I also think about G. I make this into a tragi-comdey to PROTECT), think something that makes me feel calmer, warmer, lighter all over, 'from constipation with love.' because I remember our conversation. But I hearmy Dad speak in the other room and my face heats up (we had a fight that day, he told me I shout, and drew a knife in front of my face, a few days before, went to punch me and drag me out of the house, he stopped when I told him I was constipated after grabbing onto the banister, this is all ridiculous.) and so does my right arm and I'm holding a sword again or someone's hand.

I've been thinking about all the ways I could kill the men who have abused my heart. I must forget that.

I mention G name and it is though she replies to me, remember her voice this is what makes me the Love in me almost fill me.

'you are already shortening my name (!)' which is good...I may end up gurgling

I cannot speak to her like this.

(I mean I cannot speak without speaking, I need a place to hide away in. Well, the washing should be ready soon.)

Written this afternoon.

A Prayer For The Dead. May God Protect.

2006-04-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

I have a lot to think about in the middle of night, certain men come into my mind, what they are, were, did. And I sit at the kitchen table, dipping biscuits into my tea, and almost cry, then I take the tea upstairs to bed. I sit on the lower bunkbed while everyone is sleeping, and watch the moonlight make shapes in the room, and look out at the gap in the blinds, at an orange streetlight, and think, this looking into the light outside is blinding me, I will look at the darkness. I sit on the bed, leaning against a pillow propped up on the wall, exhausted sipping the tea quietly. The door opens, and I hear the Lhasa Apso's uncut claws scuttle across the wooden floor. 'what?' I say, half laughing under my breath, are you gonna jump up on the bed to annoy me?..., hours before if I can remember the time correctly, he had told me, 'being in love with you, made that other girl white...', the other girl, I'm sure I know who the other girl is, though never quite sure, she will remain being called that other girl. I still haven't sent that small note to her, the girl I met at the doctors. I've been living in dreams, I've tried to tell my family, Soloman talked to birds, according to Muslims, he even sent his djinn servants to a a couple he loved, and they worked for them until the couple died.

He speaks;

'They're about to be murdered.'

I sit staring into the darkness, I cannot see him in the room, my mind goes blank with a feeling that almost isn't there, I'm not surprised to hear him, but why does he have to tell me that? he doesn't bark these words, they just seem to come out of his throat and rest in the air.

'Go away.' I say firmly resigned. What I am suppoosed to do, get the phone to someone, there is nothing that can be done.

I hear him try to open the door, then leave, and he does not go back to his bed on the landing, but walks down the stairs, back up again, down again, wandeirng around as though there are others he need to tell and then rests in his bed.

'Who?' I ask, 'who are they?'

'They men they call Mohammed.'

'We are not crying them!', replies my little sister as she is woken up by him walking in.

I finsih my tea, and lean down on the bed, and have images in my mind of all the Arab children I met and saw in Jerusalem, two little girls running through some back streets I had got lost in, the way, they had run past me laughing, and how I had thrown my arms out to catch them, and wandered round with them, ending up in a deadend, where a woman walked past and said 'hello.', in English as if she already knew me, and I stop, and say hello back, but want to walk along with her and talk, maybe. And tears start forming, and I try to empty my mind but I can't sleep, and the dog is lying there, grumbling and growling as though he is having a bad dream, 'he is being beaten up.' Ihe Lhasa Apso is still growling, with fear, 'he has been killed.'. And I say a short prayer, hearing the planes fly over, and add in the middle of the prayer, though my mind is still and meditative and sure; 'don't laugh.'

And then I have more images in my mind, dreams of perhaps this man going up and thye are almost silly. Today, I take both of the dogs for a walk and sit on a bench smoking a cigarette and drinking a cold can of coffee, I keep trying to ask the dog 'Has he 'gone up?', 'did the prayer work?', he is sitting on his hind legs in front of me, and I stamp my foot on the ground gently,. He nods, sombrely. I'm sure he had already told me, the night before when I said I didn't think my prayer had worked, 'Believe it, Udal.'

Good Stuff Even When I'm Crying

2006-04-01T12:37:00.000-08:00

I have a conversation during the night, with an 'across the pond' girl I call her, it was supposed to be a moment of prayer but things get silly, when she points a giant transparent finger to my head and says laughing 'your thought patterns are incorrect', and I'm telling her I don't know how to pray properly, and I have no idea who she is, and in my inner compass I can conclude that she is to the west of me, and that it is best to turn that way in the bed to face her, rather than 'break the bond' by turning my back to her, because she would be in that manner talking to my behind, and then cricking my neck round even though, after countless goodnights, and funny brain spasms I have my arms crossed in bed, and my head turned away from her, suddenly interrupted by hearing a man lurking and shouting, in the gardens/garages outside, through the means of an opened window,

'you've put my draw under these numbers' I say, very sleepily, hardly knowing what these words mean, thinking this can only possibly mean that there has been a draw on this conversation interruption, or rather the man outside has 'drawn his weapon' by drunkenly inteferring over my loud 'possessed' laughter, or rather it mean't that I had just been politely ignoring her and thinking about how I need to wash my dirty underwear/drawers when the washing machine in the flat is finally working tomorrow.

I tell her I need her to pray with me, because that had been my plan all along that night, a preparation, only the lines get disconnected and laughing and being a regular 22 yr old is the best thing in this situation, though when real life conversations arrive during the day, they never seem to live up to these ones, and that makes life slightly agonising and she says:

'you know how ( and I catch on and we say this together) to pray don't you, you just put your hands together and........ blow' and I hold an imaginary cock momentarily, drunkenly giggling though not even drunk just on a splash of tia maria and milk mixture, and then I say slightly shocked at that, (lack of control of myself):

'WHAT!! My man wouldn't even do that!!'.

So, I'm a bit peeved about that...sudden penis holding, I don't know where that came from, and really I was trying seriously to pray, and I believed she was too, and got a little flash in my eyes when I told her so, like she was smiling and glad that I wanted to do so, considering a dream I had the night before where I had been led up to an outdoor church, where two men were DJing evil evil trance music, and it was affecting everyone there, and I was being bullied into dancing, so, I just waved my arms about in a manner that could forget the awful music, and just keep a flow, and then my Nan, of all people, sends a shock to my system by stabbing me in the spinal cord with a trident, and I am suitably humbled and wander over to the altar to pray, in my shortened version of this dream. I think this means I myself have given God an overload of reading books and sticking mp3players to my ears, and going to pubs instead of churches. Though I don't frequent them that often now. Anyway, who I heard was probably some ex-girl of mine, though I didn't know ex-girls could be that funny and silly.

So, what, demons, or what, childish sense of humour, I don't fucking know.

But all this noise, and throughout, listening to planes fly overhead and trying to think about lots of things in a form of prayer holding onto my heart, laughter is certainly the best thing, though if I laugh at the wrong words sometimes I feel my heart crack a little, literally, and I am trying to overcome that

and later that night

I can hear

my little sister, in the same room, sniffing as she sleeps, I say to myself:

'her breathing sounds like laughing'

and the little tibetan dog, who has a history of being a blood of temple dog, I believe that is the reason, because he:
talks to me while he snores on the landing outside my door, and it is though Buddha is talking through him, and he tells me my name, a Buddhist name...scared? sacred? And when he says my name, at first I don't understand, I have never heard this name before, but he keeps repeating it at the end of each sentence, and I feel lifted and repeat my own name over and over again, something like that bringing hope and renewal to me for the next day:

And today when he is fighting the other dog in the garden, I tell my brother I am leaving the house to go out, and the tibetan stops growling at the other dog, and says:

'Be careful, Udal.'

So, why am I crying?

Another unexpected disappointing day...I tell most of the people I meet, 'I have been fighting demons'.

Still don't have an electric key, so ate a Chinese takeaway in the dark, after leaving a nightmare of a gig, called neighbour a fag--- in beetween mouthfuls, for having the indecency to switch the television on minutes after I arrive in the bedsit, too much of a brain overload, demons, left the front door open to get some light in, felt very homely actually and had no fear of anyone walking in. Have also been invited to No.-- for a smoke or a drink.

So, hiding away at the parents retreat, helped with carrying a crate of milk into a shop, that I am not a purveyor of. because. also informed shopkeeper about the 10 lesser worlds, and the 'other side' what i has been studying last night and kud have carried on studying.

Standing Still is almost impossible, and a servant's indiscretion costs him his life (what I learnt from I Ching these last few days relating to my new theories, particular chapters I have chosen at random, particularily the one concerning changes of season, the Creative....etc, I am in a moment of healing myself after all this, and tomorrow can only bring me to relaxation, I am almost recovered, and a little attitude helps. No, attitude doesn't help me, especially not if I'm trying to get back into a gig past bouncers, it has repercussions on my soul, I am very tired explaining all this.)

Udal and Alha were two warrior brothers according to Hindi myth and they were to revenge themselves on an evil king, I prefer the Buddhist mantra.

Enlightenment please. ;-)

Funny How One Finds Things When One Needs Them

2006-03-30T22:40:00.000-08:00

(my phrase whispered to my mother and the dogs or just out loud in the kitchen;

now I have found a friend through the internet and another man's blog whom i have flagged through talking about my hometown in a political blog, "

"[if I carry on with this own blog of mine] "now they have done that we are dead")

...so, this is the last of my writings, never proud of a single word, and here is a link I have found, after all this time, perhaps I can not write to you, that being in the presence of God and hearing his words has affected us all into a state of soul war, even my own family, continue to call me poof, a Mohammadin, neither of these words will work, I get called Kike from men and women passing by in their cars, people overhead in planes throw their opinion, I have heard God in this very house, this is important, I can no longer leave any words here,

here is a link to a chance encounter on a search)

and some quotes, I hope the writer appreciates my thieving of his notebook scribblings
:
1. The guerrero should always put himself at the service of a noble cause.

2. The guerrero should always be willing to learn and to do so.

3. The guerrero should respect his ancestors and care for their memory.

4. The guerrero should exist for the good of humanity, live for that, die for that.

5. The guerrero should cultivate the sciences and the arts and also, with them, to be the guardian of his people.

6. The guerrero should dedicate himself equally to things great and small.

7. The guerrero should look ahead, imagining everything already complete and finished.

Not at dawn, but one afternoon - as the sun was leaping from one cloud to another until it concealed itself behind a mountain - with his notebook in my hands, I read the following sentences to Elías Contreras, which he himself had written:

"Resistance is averting the fate which is being imposed from above, at just the right time, exerting the necessary force and thus destroying that disaster and those who are contriving it for us."

I will hideaway and live my life, and carry on with my Art.

"Hide Thyself."

http://www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=20&ItemID=10012

please appreciate my theory below

Gooodbye...

Timescale Theorem

2006-03-30T21:03:00.000-08:00

Historical Time Scale theory, first draft:

I believe the theory attached to these correspondances reflects a periodical theorem of two inner dimensions, two stories, one in this era, another perhaps occurring 100's of years ago...my theory is, anniversaries, not your anniversaries of distinctive trivialness, but an anniversary of an important event in history, take for example, Star Wars...

In this fight between the Empire and The Republic, a lone Jedi knight is called to right the wrongs inflicted on various communities and planets...(this is silly conjecture and a brief interlude from my own problems, as; as my friend wrote me, (you can read this from the last two posts below) I am fighting demons in visions or in a rewiring of my brains synapses, but first consider this theory to the end much as I am currently trying to explain to myself in the writing of this article)

My theory is:

but first, let us look at a picture I have in my mind of a dream I had woken up from recently...In this dream, I have no idea of my own words, I mean what was said; I am only of the conclusion that an important meeting had taken place. This between my waking up into the Earthly world, all broken and stretched by random chaos, where any of my own good works and inspiring words or suggestions are merely fleetingly unimportant to the unknowning opinions or expectations of others, BUT not to those who look upon with Love for every small action does count towards recognition, and of course I can blame these demonic attacks on my own affrontal behaviour and worries, worries that are almost a denial of God and light...I digress here unfortunately...so, let us back to the dream...

I see a tall woman, she gives me my leave, (says goodbye to me) whilst in the background behind her are dark haired people in a gathering...now what I was sent back to do, I do not know, the only other option would have been to have died in my bed if there was not a purpose for this, (and a rather frightening consequence, that would be too) a will to live happily and create good will, that seems to me the purpose, and perhaps the meeting was a fulfillment of dreams, these were no earthly beings but yet they took the full form of humanness, not I believe, in a word supposed by others, Aliens, but those of a higher bidding in the actualisation of a Heaven on Earth, and a requisite plea for my own duty to bring about a change in the staid opinion that there is no actual levels, in other words dimensions. This has been repeated countless times by many good men and women, I myelf have no training and my words even now are in danger. My life itself, is full of minor and major occurances which, without my will to create, makes even a need for rest seem as though I am wasting time, and am not living my own life which may have been written for me, as a friend, a friend who calls me her sister told me that she had heard: we must be 'in love with our destinies'...but I see no answer to my many questions as to what exactly is my own destiny.

I have been pondering these last few days a theory taken from the Chaos book I am in the process of trying to understand in a spiritual way...

higher parameters and lower parameters...here it is, I shall try to explain;

How do these different parameters

(pa-ram-e-ter

Mathematics. A constant in an equation that varies in other equations of the same general form, especially such a constant in the equation of a curve or surface that can be varied to represent a family of curves or surfaces. One of a set of independent variables that express the coordinates of a point.

One of a set of measurable factors, such as temperature and pressure, that define a system and determine its behavior and are varied in an experiment.

Usage Problem. A factor that restricts what is possible or what results: “all the parameters of shelterwhere people will live, what mode of housing they will choose, and how they will pay for it” (New York). A factor that determines a range of variations; a boundary: an experimental school that keeps expanding the parameters of its curriculum.

Statistics. A quantity, such as a mean, that is calculated from data and describes a population.

Usage Problem. A distinguishing characteristic or feature.)

affect the ultimate destiny?

A low parameter, eg. styles of speech and thought patterns, will cause an event or opinion or belief to arrive at a low state. A higher parameter, leads to a higher state. But, some parameters are even higher, and this can be a means of turning both high and low into a state of chaos...

So with that I think I may have partly explained myself though the time theorem has not yet been fully realised for fear of detrimental effects arising from a quick assumption.

Thank You.

I have underlined a quote from this book, underlined many years ago...'

in the middle of this complexity, stable cycles suddenly return.'

Streams Of Tears and Consciousness

2006-03-28T18:49:00.000-08:00

I didn't pray, you know why? In this underground Zion, like in Leicester Square, a man offering tickets said: 'Bacon.' yes, mister, I had been eating bacon consecutively that time for the last few days, a neccessity of needing to eat perhaps you could smell it on me, as I had fried some for my brother before I went out that night, I was deeply annoyed at all the madness around me, so walked off and picked out Ham and Mushroom pizza.

In this Underground Zion, a middle-aged woman dressed in a headcovering, wearing glasses, whispers to my friend outside the pizza shop as I stand there, not even talking to friend as she is even about to flirt with the man behind the counter, a whole catalogue of happy flirting, fine, I'm just not taking part in it...I listen half attentively, thinking, 'why are you not talking to me? when I know you actually are talking to me, and you have made my young friend believe you are insane, and NO, we are not lovers.' I chew on my pizza like an overgrown perturbed and numb young man, and listen:

Something about, how...I have too much attitude...I catch the last words in the sentence, but she is looking down and whispering, friend says little apart from perhaps that's nice, and we carry on on our way, and I do not grab old woman and scream for explanation in her face...

I think perhaps she means not enough attitude...

I have many aspects to worry about, these 'flesh and blood' they are the demons, (see post below) brought up on their own animal instincts, their 'man' views of lesbianism or any other paranicac, a new word, a paranicac attitude of opinion and confusion and hate, or rather sensitive emotion which whenever written down and read out loud is percieved as lesbianism...one has to make a distinction here, there seems to be a monsoon outside...it is getting very dark...perhaps I should not write this perhaps I have so much to say it is best, to 'remain Buddhist,' and keep quiet...

The influx of the cosmos, my job is too remain calm, consider each word of mine, but in my misery I see things are not all well even on one little trip to the newsagent...

I have given my phone number to a Sikh, he does not carry a dagger, and acts rather strangely, I tell him whilst he stands behind the counter taking down my number, having offered to take me out to the Sacred Heart, a temple I believe in this locality...not to call me for a week, the other men in the shop are standing in another aisle, whispering something about, madness...etc...he tells them:

'God has been shattered.' and breaks out of any worry I had of his animalistic attitude.

There is little much I can say here...

Toader:, (I have promised to call my Australian girl when the weather in my mind breaks through, to meet for a coffee, I have already told her how I have visions, but worry it will be hard to meet up with her, I had called her late one night at the weekend, after the stress of the pub night, with tears in my eyes, she seemed quite calm, and just said: 'Call me tomorrow', I liked the way she said that, it was grown and reassuring, I did not call her, my mistake, but a text and an explanation and then another call sober, at the weekend) Toader: a spade that is used to squash cane toads...'you have given me back my Toader!!!!!!!!' WE SHALL SQUASH THE CANE TOADS WITH OUR ART/HEART!!!!

I am not freaking out so much now, mentally, physically...I think my friend's prayer worked...I still need to think and write back to her...

I no longer have to pay Council Tax, this is a relief...

Rains stops and rain doesn't stop
People fly by...
Hello
Goodbye...

We are Messianics! Christians,

My American friend, beautiful and handsome and full of prayer, lives in a Tornado afflicted area I worry that he has not written to me for a week now, but i have been keeping this out of my mind.

I have finally begun to finish a book of mine, this quote:

'To be virtuous wihtout instruction is superhuman (I went over this phrase last night, kept replacing superhuman with noble)

To be virtuous and instructed is reasonable.

To be instructed and incorrigible is to be a fool.

The postcard is yet to be delivered.

HALT FOUL PARANICACS, EDUCATE THY MIND TO THE ELEVATED BELIEF THAT THERE ARE MORE DIMENSIONS THAN THE ONE YOU WALK, AND TOGETHER THEY WORK IN UNITY FOR THE UPHOLDING OF HONOUR AND LOVE THROUGHOUT THIS WORLD AND THE ABOVE.

I HAVE BEEN SENT BACK AND FORTH THROUGH THESE MEETINGS, AND ONE DAY THE TWAIN SHALL MEET, JESUS LIVES, AND THE STATE OF THE UPPER WORLDS IS IN MISERY AND WORRY FOR BELOVED EARTH. YET HOPE PERVADES FOR MESSENGERS WORK FOR THE EQUILIBRIUM OF TWO.

'do not tell them/me you are mad!!!'

do not mention her name again, this is trouble for all of us (a dear little fool I am or worse; idiocy veiled in warnings), her tall height, her dark eyes, her dark hair, (I am not talking of myself, I am talking of a palace somewhere between the sky and our minds, pathetic explanations, but a not quite subdued careful examination of your own dogmas, lack of manners, concept of aspects that one appertains to stomach whilst you eat food over your computer keyboard.)

(TO YOU)

this one is your Queen FOOLS, not some dream of a lover of mine, but of one of your Kings.

(but I try to be funny) gusts of anger through the wind...

(this words are pathetic, I have no need to shout, read my words, little paranicacs, I have a more political edge in tow of present crisises...)

for a zion of biformed colour,
for a love that breaks
my heart floats out to those in need of heart
my rationation
my irra fear
perplexity of distempered values
a sorry state of forgotten words lifted by emotion

Here is a song: StereoLab, Eye of The Volcano.

I am giggling yet seriously sombre
and almost cured,
good to take ones mind of the eventual...

I recieved an email from a friend I met in Israel, he calls himself a messianic but this election day email, presented the option for a far right leader, now, this 'dude' does not even have to live there, though he travels in and out often, and is Jewish, and of course I am holed up in England until all this passes through, what with my revelatory visions I am unable to find the right channels in which to exonerate thus recieved messages, I am fighting demons in my own back yard as it were, a war fought in beds, I have seen his face, and now after this impending wait, all shall seem to be much as though I have lost my 'job' and karma being an abrupt misfortunate only of my own devising, though I have:

'Come back' To God...

Idiocy prevails in my own short life, I fear for the friend who lives and works in the Holy Land, the one who has sent me the email below, which in this time, I feel unable to reply to, though I am in the process of explanation, I wonder how she has fully percieved my message, perhaps church, perhasp I would be better off, travelling like a young pilgrim throughout talking to people I meet, though I guess the madness and preconcieved notions that are already instilled in them will make this a dire task.

This friend in no way wants to see an end to the love for Christianity and in no way does the rest of her community wish to see a far right party take over the Holy Land, this is my worry, I will never again return there, perhaps, though to be serious and still and reasonable rather than my recent half abandonment of my functions, this a test of my own actions, and with the karma and feeling pervading throughout this moment of mass joint prayer, perhaps this will to obeisance will never fully function if i do not in one way or another devote myself in part to charity and life, impossible to entirely devote myself to an institution, in part to devote myself into, the work of God in this World of Light, not the war of dreams and egotistical animalistic dropping of good will, and action.

This is a matter of waiting for news. Nothing else, I live on the outskirts of any real dedication in the matters of the world.

schizophrenic signing out.

2006-03-27T23:15:00.000-08:00

First, I thank you that you are sharing this things with me. I understand. I might won't understand 100 precent, but I do understand your pain. I know it is hard. Loosing the baby of your sister, it is hard. you are ALOUD to grieve. it is healthy and it is your right.
About seeing things. The bible says that our war is not against flesh and blood but against powers and principalities in the realms. The devil hate us,a nd he is sending powers and spirits from his kingdom to let us down and effect us. what you are going throught is changeble. YOU ARE ABLE TO GET A VICTORY over this things. JESUS took all the sins of the world and the pain on the cross so we might be set free, and get an everlasting life. I know it works cause I have been there, having nightmers and seeing bad things, and going through a hard time. PRAY to JESUS and ask Him to forgive you for the sins, knowing He forgave you, walk in his direction, knowing that God loves you an accepts you. God loves you and you are important to Him. He sees your pain and will never let you down. Hold on to this things I am telling you cause it can ave you life and change the situation, only if you believe. Having faith is what counts here. without faith it is imposible to please God. IT IS POSSIBLE, AND FREEDOM CAN BE YOURS --------.
please, pray and after you pray, let me know how you are doing. you need to find a place in a different inviorment where there is real believers in the Lord. not catholic or orthodox christians but christians like you met here in the land, and there is there in england as well.
I will be praying for you as well.
write me soon as you can.

Now, how can I write to this friend of mine, I have already posted this personal letter on here, and I FELT SO WEAK THIS MORNING< MY BODY ACTUALLY FEELS TERRIBLE, ANY SMALL BAD WORD AND MY HEART BREAKS OUT AGAIN, I THINK TOO MUCH AND IT SINKS THROUGH MY BODY...I HAVE NOT GOT ENOUGH TIME FOR ALL THIS YET, BUT IT SEEMS AS THOUGH TIME IS RUNNING OUT, IS THIS A PERSONAL CALL OR DO I NEED TO HAVE IT LET KNOWN???

I AM TOO WEAK, AND EMPTY, MOTHER MAKE ME GOLDEN, A SONG I FOUND I KEEP REPLAYING, KEEP SINGING IT, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO WRITE BACK, ARE THINGS TOO POLITICAL,

I SIT AND LISTEN IN A STATE OF TRYING TO BREATHM, SQUAT DOWN IN THE GARDEN, BUT DO NOTHING ELSE, TRY TO LISTEN AND THINK OR RATHER NOT THINK...LISTEN

I KNOW I CAN BE CALM, I HAVE TIDIED THE KITCHEN, DID THE WASHING UP TWICE, WITHOUT A WORD IN ORDER TO KEEP MY MIND SOLID AND MY FEELINGS FULL:

'YOU KNOW THEY WERE KILLING US.'

I WORRY ABOUT GOD, AND DID I MEET HER?, A WOMAN FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE? I CANNOT DIVULGE HER NAME, I HAVE BEEN TOLD NOT TO MENTION HER THAT IS AN AGREEMENT, A STEADY NOD OF AGREEMENT, ALREADY I AM DIVULGING THIS BUT YOU NEED NOT WORRY, AS

DURING THIS VISION, I KEPT HEARING

THEY ARE KILLING DOVID

THIS IS, THIS SONG; MOTHER MAKE ME GOLDEN, IS AN ASCENSION A PAIN, A RELAXATION...

BUT THEY CAN'T...

I WILL WRITE TOMORROW...IF I CAN FIND THE WORDS...

Just A Jack In Black, Baby....Emergency Call

2006-03-26T21:43:00.000-08:00

Saturday, yes I lay in bed all day, thinking, trying to write, but my words are terrible in that environment, the footballing congregation outside, the ears, the spies, yep...I hear most of what they are hollering, hearing, saying, shouting, screeching when my windows are open, they hear me, BUT they are dumb and fickle and hear what only they want to hear, (in fact I had another mental conversation with someone, like I'd given them their heart back? I felt terrible, look these people can hear me, fuck off! but not to her, heart? heart? ART she laughed! but I heard someone else outside shout a little boy, a young girl who told him to fuck off, because he said they were killing the Hebrew in him, I shouted out, YOU MEAN YOU'RE WITH GOD!!! AS A WARNING, and he seemed to feel terrible, but agreed, YES I'M WITH GOD!! he hollered, as an old football coach screeched at the players in a green alien grouch grooble shriek, I think this is the same boy, that I hear talking outside a lot, I think he lives in the towerblock, a real cool kid, but I could feel him worrying, and when that girl shouted at him or me, just as I was trying to relax after this conversation, and feeling my heart feel a little more (we are all electric according to a dispargement of a new age idea in the paper, to wiggle your ribs is to get blood flowing into your brain), as this girl shouted at him, IT CRACKED, after I had stopped talking to this woman, Goodnight, I said, and the neighbour (who seems to have lost her boyfriend, and has only one cassette of music that I hear her rewind, and play, but not enough, said you mean 'Goodbye.') and I felt like I was fading away and that girl will grow up to be something like what? a cow??? lol) and my words are not serious and I am almost numb, or, in Limbo...

Though, Saturday night, held nightmarish visions, I cut my wrist mentally, and was told from that little green windchime that twinkles, not to give up my blood, even the thought for me is a personal bleeding...

And the nightmarish visions, first in front of my closed eyelids, I saw shapes forming, as though I was, and of course was see-ing the inside of my retinas, and all the time, 'big bastard' goobles like a large green piece of plasma from the television upstairs...

the visions, 'things' eating human bones, other things I cannot recall, and all the time I lay in bed, still, arms by my side, going through this, neither feeling scared nor in a panic, just floating through it until the end...thinking I need to brush my teeth. AND, my left leg heats up, and my toes are pointing to the painting of doves I have on the wall, the left leg, MERCY right? I twist round into my pillow, and tug at my hair, grinding my 'bacterial' teeth, not so much grinding but clenching, almost threatening to pull my hair out, but knowing i will not, holding my chin with my two fingers and trying to let this all pass.

And at the end of all this, i see an image of a young man, with a neat black beard, standing in a darkened doorway, I see him only breifly, because I can not be sure who he is, though he looks kind, I feel wary from looking too long and get out of the bed I have been lying around in all day, and brush my teeth in the dark, he is wearing a silky golden robe, and a very high golden silky hat, I think first is he the deivl? a priest? perhaps they are called one and the same, I know he looks a little jewish, perhaps. PERHAPS

And then, i take half a pill, ignore all the television and float on the medication to sleep though at first I am scared of falling asleep.

And then today, I pick out randomly again, an excerpt from Romans, that says;

those with Jesus, will SEE HIM.

How do I feel, ? back to normality, a break from a horrible weekend of my own fault, a case of agoraphobia, and not waking up to, hhhmm, or mmm, earlier, I had just thought I should go to church, I had a bath in the dark, a frantic half, relax, half just wash, talking out loud that this was like beign in the army, advising myself, spat on some tissue and cleaned my boots, still the man upstairs and the 'big bastards' on TV, I get dressed in a white long skirt, think should I wear a black one, I am wearing just jeans and white now, but I did not go to church after all, I sat on the bed with an mp3 player and try to close off my mind. Then I read the newspaper, find in a small financial article a section that describes big shopping empires, in the subtext is something that fits into the fact that I should in fact be concentrating fully on writing this properly, not just scared words, childish ones in my diary, but a real story. The subtext, Miss pru comes out lokoing like the pretty girl of the town, but what is the deeper content? something like that....

did I forget to mention, after those visions a man knelt beside me in a field, waving his hands in the air, the two seagulls turned neon blue around their dark wings, and were directed by his hands and my mind into a whirlwind. And a mournful picture of a cow in a skullcap, looking down with a mournful eye...

I tripped out on my first cigarette of the day on Friday, sitting in my Dad's car while he wandered around trying to get my electricity key fixed, (no I can do that! it didn't work, the key that is, we got a little racist, i concluded that perhaps this woman was going mad, so there pigfaced myself, you know things like this happen in small towns, one mistake and it feels like a universal smalltown infection, I said to Dad it was probably that Himmler look, that he had also given me some time earlier that got the electricity key messed around with, paranoia, and nevermind how my family are...I've been in a series of needing to keep away from my family, because even my presence is an annoyance considering I have all these things to talk about, and my Dad is always running people around in his car, and la, Mum says she is getting rid of him some time next year, i do not wish to press this matter any further, becasue it is a silly defilement of the brain...(I mean she says that almost once a year or more, repetition, look It's either that or 'big bastard and goon' that actually sometimes makes me laugh, I don't get angry, or I will end up hurting someone physically, and I met a man that looked like a pyscho killer in the pub, as the landlady was locking the door, (there was actually a real murderer in this pub a few weeks ago, i only went there because freinds were going there, but it's dangerous for me, one of them has invited me to California, this is ridiculous considering we can't even hold a conversation with each other, and she does that sitting on me in the cubicle thing...blahblahblah) I walked away from him and said let me out, nevermind that I've cried quietly a few times this weekend...) listening to classical music, sure she was singing, hysteria, hysteria, sit on your posterior! but I ignored that because that's opera for you, and didn't want to look around at the grey sky and the same buildings I'm so used to, was in an apartment on a balcony, it was sunny, the buildings had a golden glow, and I tried to picture the view, meadows (perhaps purple?, laughed thought yeah, purple hills) and more buildings all glowing gold and summery...

The Meeting

2006-03-22T17:58:00.000-08:00

apart from madness, and sitting in the 'Hall' for hours, as social worker went through forms, and threatening me with her 'largeness', I actually began to be polite around her, 'so how long have you been a social worker', blase,...'so, you went through school, college, university.'...smiles... 'I worked in a pyschiatric hospital before that.' 'then you must be tough.' cold, hands together but worried...

I told social worker about her, in a roundabout manner, but acccusingly implying that the 'Hall' will, well, fuck it up. I said that I had met someone outside the outpatients clinic. (I was sure she was hinting something about this before ('oh, and I've been talking to God') The town is, shall we say rather mad, perhaps I should mention the fact that social worker was informed by old bag in job centre that Madonna had made me a lesbian, luckily she seems to be able to ignore all this. She must be tough. (I had assumed she was a former Para for a while.)

'Are you married?' I asked her, no, she is not. I did not wish to press the conversation further.

So, the MEETING: AND THE AFTERMATH OF MEETING>

I'm outside throwing leftover bits of a horrible coleslaw (AGH no-one told me it had coleslaw in it) and pretend plastic bits of chicken sandwich on the little green full of huge trees outside the clinic and hall. I go back in, look at complaints brochure, think to myself i have nothing to complain about, an oldish woman asks me if I am someone, I remember this name as a young girl being murdered in this town a few years ago. No, I am not. I give up, and go outside to smoke a cigarette. I walk past her, as I see her, think she looks dressed well, and in no gay manner, rather normal as she paces up and down. And say:

'Do you have an appointment or do you work here?'

HAHAHAHAH shurrup.

She says she has an appointment, I stand there bored and not a bit nervous, in fact rather almost aggressively disinterested in my upcoming appointment.

She asks me if I have an appointment, yes, I say, but I am early, and I have just been sitting in the clinic waiting room eating my lunch. I pick my teeth.

'Excuse me, I've got coleslaw in my teeth.'

So, I sit down on the broken down wall, and somehow we manage to have a conversation. I feel a bit, I don't know the word, suddenly quiet, as she tells me she has anxiety and panic attacks and agoraphobia and I tell her I have paranoia and schizophrenia. I say I am worried that my she can sense my paranoia, (because I have been having a bad day, and things are affecting my brain). She says she is nervous about her appointment jumping around a little, I say quietly;

'Don't be nervous.'

I move a brick that has been cut out of the wall and shake it a little, she seems to think about that act. I tell her about my constipation, a sideeffect of the pill, she mentions she gets constipation too sometimes.

The sun is shining intensely over her hair and she stands up straight and still looking at me, actually staring at me. And I suppose I am staring back at her.

'What books are you reading at the moment?' I ask her...

She says she used read to read high brow now she likes light and frivilous. I say I can't read anything light and frivilous. Perhaps she is staring at me at a bit, I dunno, but she talks about how she would like to write a book, a book that she could write better than a lot of people, (I think very queitly, arrogant, but I'm like that too at times, and yes I also like to write poetry when I can bring myself too, but it is not very good.

I look down and say; 'oh'...

She tells me about her family that her Mum has lent her a book, I forget what it is called, that she had been a patient for FIVE years, and that this was one of a few appointments. When I mention that I sometimes sit around smoking cigarette ends, by rolling them up, that was what she had to do once when her brother was around and they went out somewhere. I thought all this was cute, I did not bother to mention my family. She had been looking at my legs, because at first (though I had baggyish jeans on and had noticed her clothes too) I could not get comfortable on the wall and ended up sitting in a crosslegged manner.

Some old groan men wander past, she moves to the wall, but far enough away from me, because I smell a little bit from not washing my clothes often enough. And then something else is mentioned, and she smiles a little because I am looking down a lot, and says:

'Mmm.'

Yum, and then! worried Doctor runs out and says I have an appointment now, and I wander off and leave her without even saying goodbye.

And then that night I think about our meeting and my heart is getting all full and stuff, and she appears but I'm unsure now...As I would like to make clear, a interthoughtfeelingconnected MENTAL soul making of love, well, just kissing. Shit.

So, I have told social worker, she says I cannot get information about people, I say I don't want to, I just want to send a note, and will anyone read it and remember this is just a way to make a new friend, I say without having to say it. She says I can do that, and they probably won't read it. Now, I have to bring myself to getting a life and sending the note. A postcard, 'what book to recommend' (I've written I can't read any books, merely because, they are all driving me mad) and a phone number.

This won't work

2006-03-22T13:42:00.000-08:00

when i was younger in college, i would often draw pictures of women dressed in robes, dancing, falling down,

I would draw eyes too, now perhaps this was a personal feeling, or something more.

In that where i felt in trouble, i prayed for help because i felt in so much trouble sitting there for nights in the dark, and stupidly stupidly being on cannabis and drew eyes, and wrote in my madness on a small piece of paper or perhaps a cigarette box...I would like to be (words were confused;)

a strong woman
a noble man

OK, I'll writeagain when I feel a little better, (it's that headache thing, I need a cottage to live, just been considering becoming a Nun, ahahahahaha, no no no no no...not a good idea)

become.

i got kidnapped by a social worker once, was having a weird week, took a bath thought about finally going to the job centre and getting a job, and he knocked on the door, with no explanation, i was too trusting ofthem andi was locked away, hence the snippet of sillywriting you will read about below...

*sigh

You Already Know Hebrew

2006-03-22T00:21:00.000-08:00

said Mum, after I tell her of a dream I had (this is becoming a farce)...KOM KOM KOM, I say as I wander around the house this morning...

'How can I already know a complex language? Like I learnt it in a day.'

Events would be better, assurances would if I already knew the language.

My dream, it started off see-ing a Russian woman, (i think) I didn't want to watch it because I feel weird? guilty? worried, in a documentary about shootings, and so I went to sleep, but then couldn't because I could still hear her talking on the TV, and so, I tried to pray and saw an image in those moments of an actual man in the room, about to kneel down and pray...and then

The young woman talking on TV had her head covered, and she was really distressed, I had already walked into the room my Mum was sitting in watching, and she started shouting at me for some silly thing, and then this woman would talk to me almost, and I could feel her worry, I was trying to explain that my Mum is a bit too red, (if that makes any sense), and it was more of a conversation with her as I couldn't sleep for hearing it, and my eyes flashed white in the direction of the East...and I prayed that hopefully she would be strong, and carry on talking about what she needed to say rather than feel bad if she was feeling anything like that...(madness huh? I know I will never meet her, and this is the saddest part of things.

a feeling went acros both sides of my neck, and I could hear a voice talk, to me, outer...I knew it was Hebrew and the last word I could distinguish was

KOM

Now, look, I am merely what? In fact I do not know hardly a word of Hebrew and so...had to look it up on this 'trusty' computer...

BECOME: to appear or arise...

Nu, BECOME...I guess that's what I have to do without, breaking the fact that I am about to smoke more poison, and go to a regular appointment, where if I mention this fact I will be put away...

Can you just laugh at this, because>>>???? I will have to carry around a Hebrew speaker with me in the event this happens and get him/her to repeat each sentence in English slowly...

And the thing is:

Should I be scared??

And then I tell my Dad, while he is digging up the chopped down tree roots in the garden, and think about my clothes, how I've embroidered a pocket with different colours (not very well, almost took me a whole day, but keeps things off my mind) and Joseph and his coat...

'Yeah, I'm like a little Yosef, except a stupid one.'

2006-03-21T22:43:00.000-08:00

my sister has said she is having a breakdown, in due pat to losing her baby, i find it hard to talk to her through being around my family, in fact, she keeps mentioning the BNP, how they knocked on her door the other day, how my Mum knows one from school, how;

their children are taking part in Holy Communion.

How, though she lives in a area of lots of Nigerian families, somehow they avoid them.

I walked to my cousins, the other day, he is mad, comes out with lots of sick sentences, and racism.

On the way there, I saw a woman walking her baby in a pram, she looked really fragile.

Further down the road, I met two african men, and said Hi, whilst twisting my headphone lead around my hands worriedly...'Are you ok?' one them asked, and the other one said ?:

'What, the white women are going mad????'

'Ye-ah.' I replied worriedly...

And kept walking, he looked worried, like; 'oh shit.'

2006-03-21T22:17:00.000-08:00

reading that book, I had finally found something that kept me worriedly calm, though it was about praying whilst armed with weapons...unfortunately when I discovered pigmen were repeating it, I stopped and tried to relax again, by smoking yet again, unfortunately, someone else, jumped in with;

"this book was not written for you!"

So, I'm hiding again, because even though he has a habit now of stamping his feet on the floor, and despite an acknowledged knowing that it was not really people running up the stairs to my door, I laughed quietly at the way he was doing that, with sacarsm, inner laughter at this weird act and it actually kept my heart beating, without heartattack, I will have to find a bongo player.

Because all too easily things like that affect me, and I am also finding it hard to stave off memories of others, though feeling much more physically better, now warm, full of food and clean...

2006-03-21T21:48:00.000-08:00

I keep waking up from dreams, I remember some people, a dark haired woamn, pretty tall with dark eyes, like dark eyebrows, it was like, how do I write this...I don't know because I woke up from that dream to the TV, like he ruins every morning I have...and I wish I could remember what goes on when i go into this other 'dimension'...

he had a girl round last night, and I was grumbling in a bad mood, look just have sex and I'll sleep take my pill, but she was talking to me, it was like I was telling her to leave, and I dunno, I fell asleep...she was talking to me...I feel bad, for that, but it's kinda funny...he puts on a different voice and they were having fun, something else had aggitated me...I didn't really feel too bothered by it.So, I toook my pill and fell asleep, it was a recovery from loud television, and my bad flu. which has gone now...apart from this bad cough.

2006-03-21T21:21:00.000-08:00

When the dirty man on the TV upstairs laughs, he sounds like the way my Dad sounds sometimes,and sometimes I know that the pigmen, who read the football commentary repeat the books I read, which leaves me trying to stifle my laughter sometimes, I even read the Koran, last night, adn it explained a few things to me...

I have been laying around in dirty clothes for days, in fact not so much laying around but I can't remember, I have already even put my coat in the washing machine becasue it stinks of smoke and pollution...

I have been told by the wind to give up this poison, the cigarettes...still the tourettes jumps around in everyone's brains, like I read a little snippet of rubbish iw rote on some paper, whilst a 'bully' boy is down there outside hounding me...and repeating what i read or even think...

'what he had all these women? I said kidnap them!...soemthing soemthing...

I can't phone the advertiser, (she has already spoekn to someone else, I am destined to never meet someone, and although I have met that someone, and something magic happened, I can not write to her witout feeling pathetic, and worried about the social worke finding this strange if I talk about her, and really it is all FUCKING SHIT)I nearly hate this world, my eyes keep going funny...

I lay around and listen to the wind, and remember today someone that makes me get up and clean the flat and begin a first sketch of an image i wake up with in my brain; Joyce Johnson,...like I should read her poems, and the wind replies, thank you, girl...something like that...and this image you see hasnt scanned very well, but i still have a vague memory of the actual image in mind, the thing is;

it's not an image, it is a ready made painting that comes through in my dream, perhaps it is my lungs, (hold off the smoking) or those round parts like a blast or snow...

my eyes keep going funny, becaue I get affected by everything, and actually, my eyesight is getting worse and worse, like, i can only see about 15 cm in front of me clearly

So, the wind; we talk or rathe i listen or rather, i completely ignre and cannot remember a single thing, in fact i had an awful day yesterday despite this, with the 'man in shop' whose sooooo fucking rude...'lalalal you and your gay friends.' mate, i ain't got any, and don't go making me cal you an Infidel, and aP....because that makes me hate myself.

And conversation, I'm lucky, despite all this because....

what?

to be continued....but I think everyone is dying....

I really want to write to her but don't know what to do...

coming out, again, and in again, like an endless cycle...

Dad, It's Actually Me and God who are Depressed...

2006-03-21T20:52:00.000-08:00

words like that keep jumping out like some kind of tourettes syndrome, like sitting at the table, usually eating dinner alone (yes, I arrive in this house at times when I need to escape, neighbour, have cleaned up flat despite having flu and no electric or hot water for a few days, hm, who dirty the kitchen grime gets aruond the microwave) I nearly said:

'Mum, I am a failure.'

But, heart to heart words like this never seem to get out into an actual conversation and that is where all the problems lie.

In fact, this whole town has gone mad.

....................to be continued.

All These Crazees

2006-03-18T16:05:00.000-08:00

another one, in Leicester Square;

'what you want to go back stage?' wobbles, pushes me around a bit towards railings;

'no, i said, i think my friend's gone backstage, i'm trying to find her.'

'[repeat]'

'no.......[repeat].......no, my friend......no.'

'Look...You ain't no Madonna!'

So, I walk off without screaming JESUS CHRIST, what the Virgin Mary????!!!!! (don't use the Lord's name in vain), and bare my teeth, at these hybrids wandering in, as i walk outside of the club to phone her.

Cafe in Dingy Town: (on day I break down in council over m y debts)

Imagine someone, I try to say, having a conversation...working in this cafe, bashing cutlery etc, around really loud but trying to keep her anger in...I play zombie, because I do not know what to say to her as many people there, and would still like to be her friend, but;

I hear nagging...so act a bemused, actually intensely perturbed, erm, dude...

'You were giving me eyes!!' bang, crash, hurry...more annoyance from her, so I stand there, quietly and stir my sugar in my coffee at counter, and listen...

Well, I may have smiled at her, sometime;

'You were supposed to meet me after work!!'

Wonder if she has mistaken me for a boyfriend, you know it happens sometime, I remain calm, and go and sit down;

bang, crash!!! I sing some Greek words...poolia=birds

'They told me you were Hebrew!!'

'What, am i married to China now?' still, cold, dudette bitch.

'I'm not from CHINA!!!!!!!!!!!'

.....................well....................

go into another shop, CAN STILL HEAR the banging and crashing of plates outside; served at counter;

'you were supposed to meet her after work'...think; yes, there was a day when i arrived for a takeaway coffee late in the day, and stood around looking in a mirror, thinking, should i wait for her?

BANG CRASH, 'I'm not at work!!!!!! They've locked me up!!!!!!!!!!!'

I notice she has a new haircut, and the manager calls her darling...

.............................................................................

thinking of delivering a postcard to 'the panic attack, scottish nationalist'...woops, hahaha, perhaps this pathetic bout of decision, not being able to think of another word, rather hungover, will work, if i can convince, 'dizzy' 'mature' receptionist to UNDERSTAND that she must work with me in this endeavor and break some rules, in case the docors become suspicious, or actually read the note, which of course is cold and neutral and rather....pathetic. And then perhaps, she will be able to pick up a phone or use a text messaging service, and get into contact with me, if not then, she can write on the second postcard, back to me, give it to 'dizzy' 'mature' receptionist, threaten her that this is only friendship, and make receptionist work harder in this new project which may give extra joy to her own life...

Met another girl in Camden

My friend flirts with me but I am cold...or worse.

This girl has rather piercing light blue eyes and she works in advertising, and is from the other side of the world. But

She is not gay...though i will call her this week, though i have already sent a drunken text, and am not expecting a reply...and we will meet in some place, and I can tell her about the outpatients meeting...to her the number 22 is divine.

And so I am in debt

And I have new trouserjeans bought in the sale, looks like someone with massive thigh tried them on before I bought them, how

embarrassing.

2006-03-16T21:11:00.000-08:00

that picture i have, arms out, a face invisible but the body of a mans, and another image of one woman, with her hair flowing, just that image i saw, nothing else...and the rays of snow breaking out of a little heart....it's not a representative it's real

And that night, this week was real and that meeting was real. And she has gone too.

and i have given up.

and it's snowing again

I feel so ill on this pill, i have had to lie down it's only 10 past nine, and i can't even cry properly but i am.

i feel sick, esthanomes arosto...

Heart Failing

2006-03-16T20:45:00.000-08:00

it is snowing outside...well, it snows and then it stops...if anyone ever read this i would probably wish they didn't.Why is everything bringing back to a memory of some persons and incidents i would rather forget. I want to leave, I am in debt.I want to find her, but without revealing her name and asking questions with a time I can not even call a missed opportunity.

I think all of her madnesses are congregating into one madness.

One woman, just a girl perhaps, did not see me, or talked silently to someone else, and touched her hand to her scarf, 'we wear purple because'...because? would i ever wear any colour because, i don't know what colours are anymore, and i feel like crying. twice in a day in fact because of memories recent and old.
I can't write about her, because, there is a control, i make every mistake in the middle of every mistake. She will not come back again. I don't know if there should be a guilt and a worry for her, if she is breaking, like i break, screaming as i feel like i am about to die in the bath.

Always ran to scream in the bath and it wasn't a war cry.

My hands feel as though they are floating, and i have neither you talk to in my confusion. I will have to repeat this twice. Tract, that was a word that comes to mind, but has an entire meaning that i do not know about.I even have a guilt for her.

And this should be some occurance that should leave me happy, but has;

already left me.

Chance will not complete this. Plans will not become when my heart gets knocked about by a sudden inteference of noise.I have to get on with 'appointments' and 'debts' tomorrow, and perhaps all of this will work out.

And a stack of money left in an empty house.

I have kicked the television over, I have thrown my laundry basket around. I have smashed a plate on the floor.

I can't read anything, there is ONE book i need to find

and I can't.

SOooooooo

2006-03-15T21:33:00.000-08:00

why do i keep talking like that shrimp from Futurama??

I did not like the previous post i wrote about 'panic attack'...I have had another visionary 'attack', but i do not wish to divulge...

I could get pale and poetic, but no still, danger lurks in a town where i would like a job as 'manager', in a local jobs for 'local people'...

I have taken out more money, but have kept this quiet, spent some hours asking why they have russian communist hats in all shops instead of bandanas...I am dressed somewhat the same as I was a few years ago...which perhaps is heartbreaking, but I still will not get my haircut unless I have the confidence to say:

esthanome arostos, mino sto krevati, esthanome kalitera tora...

Magical things occur, like memories...

For instance after the outpatients appointment, I walked to the other doctors, though i didnt have to be there, like, GO BACK TO THE DOOOOOCTORS..., I had fallen over a chair, and walked into the receptionist area, and then ran out without looking at her, but this is boring:

This is what made my eyes feel better, from remembrance, though lately, I feel I need sunglasses for mine eyes see things that doth offend me, and I should rather cover mine eyes than, get blurry vision, from too many other components...and still i write this outloud and 'stuck', talking like a shrimp...

THE PHARMACY:

An Alfie man happened to be chatting up pretty Indian young almost pharmacist, as he was talking like a salesman a bit agressively actually I laughed quietly at him, the way he was talking, actually brings me to some distress, for I am suffering, though I have tried to read:

Heirs Of The Prophet,...in a bookshop, first washing my hands, and asking beautiful woman behind counter where toilets were, her eyes lit up, but it was unfortunate...normal...went and washed my hands and grumbled, stuck my fingers up at myself in mirror, because do not want to cut my hair into a man's hairstyle...

but I find it hard to concentrate on reading though have finished reading Titus Adronicus and making silly voices whilst reading though getting paranoid but the ending was a happy one it was as though i read it without reading the gruesome parts, just flew over my head...

I need to write about her...

I have found a good book that is keeping me interested, I do not get distracted from reading this book so far, and neither can I prevent myself sometimes from misreading words...

I have read that this is the month of laughter...I laugh evilly at unbelievers, no that is a lie...the book is...Reading Lolita...in =...'somewhere' ;-/)

The Alfie man, I ignored him and explained to the other woman that I have no medical exemption certificate to hand...he repeated, that he had a medical certificate and 'yeah, i've seen you 'somewhere somewhere' (the usual)....I sat down and sang a song I listened to on my mp3 player, he was still chatting but the other pharmacist said did I still live in lalala? (land) I said no I think I wrote the wrong postcard down, I mean postcode, at one point: scaringly he said, Madonna has given her more power than me!!!!!!, this is an annoyance though i have seen a 'dashing' photo of her leaving a Kabbalistic centre which unfortunately I do not have the contacts or the money to join, the look she had was, 'great, now I guess I'm gonna have to clean up this mess' (I've had enough of TV so kicked it over last night, and my electricity has blown, apart from the lights so no cups of tea for me,)
she was carrying a bottle of Volvic with pink juice in it, funny how apparently everything according to Philip K. Dick, is 'interconnected', that day I had mean't to carry out my Ribena and Volvic mixture as I need more water and have been buying it BEFORE I saw the picture,...due to smoking and medication....
shrimp... The pharmacist then handed me my medication when he left and said I had made her 'laugh' which is heartwarming but I havent felt so good...I have felt a need to cover my head again...

Yes, there is somethng unfortunate, the 'man upstairs' whom this time, having had the TV on all day yesterday whilst I was sewing patterns...made me feel ill, I had to have a bath and scream loudly, and call him, me or the televison a c-word...

I do stupid things like find a postcard with 'recommend this book' to someone, as though i could post it to her in the clinic, but this will not happen...

esthanome
esthanome
esthanome
kiss
esthanome
dream
esthanome
need to protect
esthanome
miss
esthanome
need
esthanome
real or unreal
......................
(I bouight a Greek phrasebook on the off chance, it was 99p...just buying something to read in the coffee shop and am starting to think trying to learn all these new languages is more fun, than, , but finally got my moustache bleach.;-))

met some Moslem women the other day, they were putting their shopping away into a car, I thought perhaps I should help them? but broke into a shameful run, and stopped saying...'I shouldn't do that'

"Yes, you're right, they might think you're running away from us..."

went over convrsation with her, but stupidly could not remember all of it, like I had said, quietly 'don't be nervous'...but thought in any way that would sound lame and sickly perhaps though not said like that, soooooooooo, (shrimp) at night out loud I said it...and the neighbour next door laughed and answered 'NO, I won't be!!!!!'

So, later I had had to say, when perhaps this interconnectedness had kissed at a timescale in a mind scientific manner of coincendence= 'break it off'...though whiteness and rainbows congregate and feeling in my heart and hairplaying, floating beds and all that shit...

NOW GO AWAY

The BMW Episodes

2006-03-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

(More missed opportunities, I could have stolen it)

I read a rather funny recount of a poorly man, driving from Newcastle at 130mph, when hilariously heartbreakingly for him, the green BMW he was driving, lost the use of it's brakes, and began to 'careen' down motorways, all the way from the A1, down to Blyth...that is 60 mile in all...at a roundabout in said Blyth, other drivers began to hiss and bitch at this man-tart in a beautiful cart, I admired his skill at being able to ignore these neighbouring drivers whilst suffering sweating fits and intense fear of his life, all the while giving a 'running commentary' to an ambulance, 4 police cars and a helicopter, at the roundabout he hit the roundabout, and save for his life, flipped the car and landed on it's roof...oh dear, i thought he would be rather annoyed at the fact it was the only incident of the day to make me 'laugh out loud'...

So, I met a girl outside the outpatients clinic, I won't tell you her name, she's not gay, had a weird conversation, but worried she could sense my paranoia and did not want to add to her 'panic attacks', 'agoraphobia', 'something else'...with my 'schizophrenia'

She says she likes 'high brow' books, but now has to read 'light hearted and frivilous'...I said I'm the 'other way round'...

And now I can't remember anything else in the conversation, I don't think she wanted to kill me, and she didnt want to have sex with me, but that would have been nice, her hair was shining in the sunshine, she looked at me a lot, I'm obvious, I like her, and as would have been a good friend...unfortunately our WONDERFUL SOUL DEFINING, ha, conversation ended at the beginning of my appointment, and I will never meet her again, unless I enquire, perhaps??;

Doctor; 'I'm sorry I kept you waiting.'

What should have been said; 'I don't give a fuck, I wanted to have a conversation.'

I told Doctor, and new evil worker, who keeps going on about my visions, 'yeah, when I hear men I want to stab their throats through for their defiled mouths' (sorry) No, I said, the other night, I began to hear what I took to be Hebrew, and was about to have this conversation, in a language I will never properly be able to learn...I like this doctor.

I went out with a friend on Saturday, a new friend...no

I'm tired of writing this...can never concentrate

Preparation Madness

2006-03-11T00:52:00.000-08:00

'I shall remain strong'...I am not strong, I am weak, but in weakness strength exists.

'Do you carry a knife?'

asked the doctor...

'No, but I would like to kill dirty men.'

..................

'No,' I laugh...'I carry a banana'...I walk from room to room, being three rooms in all and a walkway where I check the red light flashing...and play emotion numbed by strong weakness and these pills that echo a reflect that my heart is affected by each kncok, each dropping of objects, from upper floors, from non talking rooms, smashed not drummed...I speak different words from a different mouth, a different environment if x equals dimensions and timescales turning in three...

I can never sleep on your woman's side, for years you have suffered and thought...once there was an excuse of protection, a room with blue and orange sheets for windows...

'I have to sleep in the middle!!'

The other night, I heard rumours from the cell upstairs, threatening, when I go to read one of The Books, he smashes and drums the floor, my mind jumps to the knife...

'Please drop the knife!' cries a girl, as I walk to the door, walking these rooms with knives in my hands...It falls to the floor...I pick it up and hack lines like an ancient Irish/Gaelic alphabet of magic into a piece of timber...if I were to recompense towards any tribe or family, there being many, then I can only do so through the gift of inspiration, a renumeration...(tears are falling through my eyes each, this morning, and with thoughts of others whom risk their lives for God, i think, and last night, hearing a plane and pain, I imagined, that some of them had come home...)

I had slept with a knife by my bed in the blackout...'you have put a knife on my blue and yellow, in mourning...' the lion woman growls into my ear, as I lean my head on a blanket, a light shines in my brain a shift from right to left, to sleep by the knife...a sphinx, a sphinx, i imagine...
When the doctor and the workers were here, I did not feel fear but picked up the Book, read randomly...read that I had been given a wife...

Invisibilty, where theory equals Love for two and siding with one...'Everything in history has an eytmological speculation that all myths and historical meetings revolve around the Hebrew, and theory is these wives are not his, the one whom has a bigger knife than I'...

Two Different Versions

2006-03-10T22:04:00.000-08:00

I am Izanagi, looking for Inanumi, a new name, for Izanami...Let me explain...I am walking through a version on Earth of what they call Hades...

"Swim the ocean of Fear" she told me, or did the Moon Goddess, or the divine pink light which, in representation of charms, I had painted a pink haired girl, dressed in light green, sitting amongst moss and heather, one strand of her hair flowing into a pink pool, just less than a year ago...an evening before this, crawling through cupboards in my cell, I rediscovered this picture, and with one hand rays of pink light were brought across from the back of her head, into a blue and white sky...

I am Izanagi, looking perpetually since my teenage years for a 'sister', the one they call Izanami...

That night, the voice filtered through, on a radio whence, my first conversation had been with, an uncover (undercover) representative of 'inner peace and soul intelligence', a politcal engenda, for in these times, paranoia is the height, and to be 'too Adom in' is my fault, for I did not answer the questions and worries presented before me that night, but replied...'I am tired, Goodnight'...and words I throw too easily in from the back of my soulheart, the words 'I love you'...became a second part of the conversation, which was there waiting but not heard...

...the voice filtered through, deeper and more beautiful than any voice I had come to hear before, at first quietly;

"Hide Thyself"

And then warnings...Cover yourself...and my pleadings and confusion from an overload of information, my pathetic arguements...

"You know I love you"

..................................................................................................................

I am Izanagi...I am leaving to find Izanami...

..................................................................................................................

After this...the arrival of threatens...at my home people, accompanied by the police, to take me away and lock me up further...I advised them as best I could...they went to talk privately outside my door;

'This one is eccentric'

They heard my laughter, and walked back into the kitchen, I stood at the table...;

'Well, you know what artists are like.'

I wonder if they had noticed, my wallhangings? the rose pink, purple, mauve, light blue painting of Doves, from one eruption of good feeling and correct hand, to an invasion around me in these cells of the towerblock, darker, unsteady, half done, half greiving, half forgetting, doubting...and the images of another Izanami, or Inanumi...whether they understood, that she is real? The joining of heartache and snow, in a cavern inside the grain of a tree, the difference in body souls, the different faces of self...

I am on a new medication...I will be visited every day, in this time wasted Hades, where, as it rains, no-one realises there is mourning...and my body effort, soul energy will wasted through a silence as I walk, without fear...but with thrown down spears upon my head, spears like words, or not even words, parried pieces of hatred...

I shall remain strong...

MEDITATING WHILST MOVING

2006-03-07T20:53:00.000-08:00

As Rabi'a says:

In love, nothing exists between breast and Breast.
Speech is born out of longing,True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
The one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?

Hello

2006-03-07T20:52:00.000-08:00

Perhaps GSC California would be the best option...ya know:

I have a broken electric fob key that I paid for -£10.50 in the Council...did not work=
I have been unable to buy any more credit on my eletricity...and proceeded to blame 'old man' 'social worker' 'government'...stole a chocolate blatantly...=hence the fact i have just under 500 pounds in my 'pikey' pockets and am ready and willing to arrive at a destination makred lurve. ha

Have sorted out fact of visions...

Much apologies to those affected...including myself and God, and audience to my confused musings...keep sthumc

(and I've been told to drown myself, whilst it is raining, that can wait)
playing guitar, chewing nicotine, gum

sit in dark...sleep

focus mind on drawing after lack of out of respect

from darkness into light a quick reading of Koran to prepare me for going out...trousers off the ground...sing like an Adhan call on my guitar playing

Appeal yeah whatever...

then give me a life

this is tired

"BREAK THE BOW!!!!!!!!!..."
"I'm not listening to an old woman." says man in advert...
"Iz in the Bible!!"

Do you know whats happening yet folks?

"I have a diary,
yes, one day, you can read it...not you"

and once again ...everything else...remain calm eat some food,

Smething Happened

2006-03-05T21:10:00.000-08:00

Don't go to Holy War

Who is the French Footballer on TV...? is this black magic?

Something happened...

D.E.A.D

Mum called me a 'faggot' this was the height of DEVILLE

My eyes go funny, flashing left eye flashes as I write devil, perhaps It changes colour...

SO when she called me faggot I was filled with Klippot, the only reason I am here is because I came back to get my rent card see my sister, whose baby died in her womb

I have been feeling whiter writing my visions,

SO, when she did that, I called my dumb social worker, the other one, whose not so dumb..words spurt out like,

I'm married to the Beloved...'

I prayed for the death of certAIN PEOPLE, AND PRAYED so hard that white light flashed in front of my eyes...But then reason Jesus and forgivenss take it all back again...(bad writing)

'Sole Guardianship of myself' (I am not my own woman when it comes to the NHS, and remember they have not paid me since June) whilst praying
'No more correspondance between the parents and the Trust..'

So, RIOT according to the TV

NOw, you wake up in the day, and you go back to normal and do nothing but feel terribly phsically ill, and heart actually feels like it's bleeding at night, so you try to hold it in...you're just drinking black coffee and smoking too many cigarettes, believing though you have smashed a glass on the kitchen floor, got glass in your feet...cut a hole in the bed with a knife, ripped your clothes...

been 'comforted' by a ghost lover, whilst the man upstairs is wanking, and the neighbours next door are fucking, because you are in War and have ultra senstive ears...and lay in bed one night with a staff/ and hear the shit on tv upstairs that yu sit twirling the staff around in your hands and then whack your own TV with it until something smashed inside it...and imagine knifing the busdriver in the face for looking at your butt...and want to shoot the television upstairs and perhaps the man, too...and

And anyway, I played guitar again today, ate quorn bacon for starters, oatso simple for seconds, main course, peas and mushroom pie, back to eating back to life

And you also hear a woman talking through the television saying...'I've had enough of this Goyish lesbian,' whilst you are rolling up cigarette butts with filter, and the 'Innuit Ghost downstairs is annoyed by this so you answer, 'what am i' then...and then think yep so have I...ORTHOS ARENT SUPPOSED TO WATCH TV, anyway...

And you hear old women, (cos they do go on holiday) up in planes, you're Nan said you are lazy...------ -----...

And this makes you laugh...because you remember...

But when you think about this need for A RIOT, because the governmetn worker bitches that all dress up like Anastasia...say...'ohhhhhh, you like alternative forgien films...then?' and you're crouched over feeling sick physically, and you've lost your keys and while you hear them in theHall...threatening to lock u up again, you throw things, run for the bus, go into a hairdressers to get your haircut, and perhasp dyed so they wont recognise you...and then think shit youre in mourning, even though you feeel guarrenteed yourE right handed AND YOU PRAYED ENOUGH BLOODY L...

AND YOU envision a theory of your 'women in another dimension' phoning these Trust 'peple' saying GIVE HER THE MONEY [YOU FUCKING DOGS] AND LEAVE HER!!!!!!!!!!!... and you call her your Terrorist Girl or a dark houri, but you don't believe in that...so you are confused...because this was a different one...and they keep putting you in a dream, and you are about to have a discussion in Hebrew as you drift off to sleep, but TV MAN interrupts with 'miserable french guy on TV'...because you have been near...

And then you have horrible voices, and are actually getting Dementia, and worry that when you thought/say...'if i was a Tzaddikim, then why can't i sleep (can't sounding like cunt with my accent/s), because you are shit...' and a plane has just flown over so, you hear a beaituful 'OH MY GOD!!!'...and think oh, dear some kids just repeated that and it will drive their mother nuts, so you have to curb all this and become

WHITE

Report Number One

2006-02-26T19:55:00.000-08:00

So, whilst listening to the choir of Africa, which I think Innuit Ghost enjoyed, as though I could handle, to either hear, her, or the man upstairs...I positioned my mind into clearance, operation back to Ein Sof...whilst heating up bacon and mushroom pizza...I immediately went back to the music and turned it off, and then went outside at 11 at night, to try and buy some cigarettes...

The Drowning...I got back from an undelightful night, though have now contact, with two previous strangers...the 'gig' was...the thing is, the cellar got flooded, and the whole place stank of egg...

Went to the E-Trance Music pub...unfortunately, whilst in 'company' of a singer and othjers, singer of band whom I will not mention...Mother Duh, called, and I went into toilets to talk, unfortunately got into the line of sight of an rancid old lady who proceeded to screech at me...there was a conference, the words of which I have no recollection with two gentlewoman, one rather mature of age, the other the same age as me, dressed in a beautiful look of faded, pink dress...thought wow! you look great, but did not say so, and staggered away from pub, and others...

Kicked a hole in my bathroom door, two holes, cried in the lift for unknown and known reasons, laid down on bathroom floor crying...

Yesterday or last night, I can't remember, in all the stinking mess of my house, in which I have neither been offered a mop or any words of value from parents...(Friday night before 'gig'...I was given steak and barely cooked chips ate these alone whilst, Father played poker on computer, 'bloody goyim' food...thought quietly, threw fork, quietly across room, threw knife...proceeded to pig out on salad and then spit it on the dog's cage...boiled water, poured the water onto newly filled bowl of sugar, accidently spilt water in the toaster, put toaster on...did not blow up...got a mop and cleaned up the sugar which had been thrown on the floor...Father threatens me, in my face, am neither scared nor heart beating, he makes strange gestures, think at the time, if he does anything else, will cooly punch him in the face, he goes back to playing poker, I talk calmly and get more water with which to clean up the sticky sugar on the floor...

Have drunkenly written down my visions in a little book...cannot write of them properly, but have made a few sketches...

Ran the bath, (have also called Pool, asking him to beat up man upstairs, and he also sadi he will beat up Ed, with whom I had a conversation with on MSN which I unfortunately did not save...he is a sicko...end of him)

Drowning in the bath, worry about having a bath in such close quarters to neighbour, decided to only wash my feet, get into bath fully clothed, twist round and bury my face in water...can't do it, decide to fall asleep in the bath, run more water, wash and die....

No else gives a shit about this, have no time for anyone...

Will seek to join religious community, in order to get money...

Mongolian looking Russian bouncers, have suggested I get a job in Manchester, thought of that before, but would probably die...hey just work some white+power+magic+practical in the beautiful north...

Will leave for Spain as soon as possible...without paying rent, have invited Innuit Ghost issue 2, have even told her I would pay for the flight, well, really just discussed the idea out loud...

After all this I can wait, get someone to help clean the flat, and then get on with creating images...

List 2: will need to discuss with a Guru+Rabbi+Priest, what the heck is going on? tart+kooper+help...

Envisioned the word Tulha, last night...googled it...Portugal may be a better option...also Nanak+Link:
http://members.dancris.com/~sikh/chap14.html

pig+queen?+why+be+communist+enough+get+a+life+SOS+stop+reading+esp+through+television+
who the fuck are you, amazing image of a+telephoneme+HELP

Two Reports

2006-02-26T19:29:00.000-08:00

Firstly, before I tell you I am not dead, google has been banned in China, mainly due to the fact that many bloggers, as mentioned in the G----p--, an English Newspaper, that they did not wish to be googled...and oh, a funny aside...they wrote; imagine what would happen if you typed in paris+hilton +existentialism...

I hear something funny on the news the other day...blah, blah, you've had enough of these bloody goyim, and Innuit Ghost issue number 2 (she has yet to resurface in all this misery< that is report number two)...issues, from her fond invisible lips and undefiling mouth, a warrior one you hear me? 'So Have We!!!!!!!'...
I did stop mentally in the lift and wonder, if the lift would stop at her floor...but alas...she loves to hear Dumas, but I feel this 'relationship' has become exhausted, I fear to imagine what her 'pysh'ical state is so I don't...But, I believe she now believes she has to have a baby, after a report, and chance reading of a certain passage in the new testament...(all these allusions, now you understand why China has banned Google)...

The talk of the Towerblock, is whatever happened to Lou the dog??

Edvard Munch's Madonna Painting Got Stolen Last Year...

2006-02-24T18:26:00.000-08:00

So I have found the first sentence to a book, though doubtless there is repitition in history...

Mirror: I have enough of looking at myself...!!!! lightening, Lamp swerve, bang, smash, crawl around geting glass in my hands...

Book: You need some philospohy on your head!!...smack...

What I heard; my DVD also got stolen a few years ago, plus my bible...
What I heard;

"Fuck this shit, (I'm not laying in bed, I've had enough), I'm going into a higher consciousness"

I agree...

hhhhmmm, I'm fine... hope you are too...

So, Kant writes about Idealism, there is a painting, (you all know this, fact is I just need to go clubbing, drowning is the best option, nictotine gum soon..) the Mirror and the Lamp, German Expressionism...now...no codes...just continutations of life...in the proper sense, accordingly I would be happiers with a big mansion, or either a mountain on which, wherein I would like to write...perhaps the countryside...

If the appeal of the far bossy Labourites does not go through, then I shall take legal advice, either, and Nazzy Father says: you're not having anything, then I shall continue to HOLLER KADOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I will tell them I woke/work for:

International Headquarters and DEFENCE organisation...

And then I will go to Wessex, Lady...

And carry on meeting wonderful people instead of his mess which IS not agreeable

I need to talk to someone with a SOUL as I felt mine disappearing with ED DEAD...(perving)
You know somewhere located in the pitutary gland...

fingers crossed to your own genius mistakes, all of you...

Perhaps there is a LOOPHOLE, there are indefatigle loopholes...I discovered another book, perchance dillified, perhaps you could give me a commentary on such a mind...dangerous...but I'm keeping it normal................................ports, mistakes, loopholes, portals.........a million galaxies, where I am in two...at the last count....

Forgive Those That Trepass Against Us...

And back to reason

The Innuit Ghost 'Affair' (in the old-fashioned sense)

2006-02-23T22:36:00.000-08:00

'oh, your hair looks black and red!' said Mum
'No, it looks different, under the light, it's cos it's covered in period blood...' and then Innuit Ghost issue number two says...'You're a King!!'...look i prefer stupid prince////, and if you have to shout up two flights of stairs then I will have to leave my imagnary AK47 in use for 'Bloke Spy' upstairs, and go and borrow some milk off you and then we can go wander Dingy Town and I can annoy you with recantations of my 'hearing voices' YOURS and visionary wonders...I THINK THAT WOULD BE FUN...

Painting finished unsatisfactorarily...

I'm reading Innuit Ghost No.2 Dumas' Count Of Monte Cristo, I think she likes it, especially the opinions of La Carconte, in which it is best for 'grumpy boyfriend' to the left (threatening me,
I imagined him bouncing off his bed and falling through it, and then it turn into a rubber bouncy ball falling 'You got that from Flubber'...no, I've seen a bouncy ball before, and you need to get out girl, I DON'T want him...and someone else a man, calling me, that thinks I'm dead, and where I am, 'With God'...and old woman shouting Willy next door...sing a song of...)

and his television to SHUT THE F UP!!!

I'm also reading Haleh someone, Forgive Me, I forget your surname...Hafez, Philosopher Of Love...she was brouight up with a love of this poet from her Father...and collaborated with her husband in the writing of this book, with essays on buliminosity...NOW, I'm a bit strict and worry that Innuit Ghost No.2, thinks one, she can be my mistress, (Dumas;I also re-read the history of his life, he was bad with money, keeping it in tobacco jars and drawers and throwing it around charitably, 'nod, yeah, dude...' Inniut Ghost 'hear!hear! innit!') and two?? that I won't get space...for this unaccountable inner journey...and tomorrow I'm gonna write in my book...

I also read to her, an image of divine blue fire
on one side of a crystal coin jumping and floating with life's history on the other side, spinning into bright rays of light...yes, sometimes out loud...

So, I was worry about the Beloved...like, I'm being too white...innit...listening to the wind, and then getting an inconvenient phonecall...

And then I had a bath, and washed my hair, and looked up and forget, 'noise' 'stress' 'Innuit'...and made a plan, and thunny...how immediately 'someone' 'something' breaks it...like I envisioned Unicorn again, to make me feellllllllllllllllllllllll light...

And then it breaks...

Sometimes I can imagine Dumas writing with his feather pen...he used to worry 'one' of his sons with all his escapades...Dumas writes so philosophically (excuse me, been on a tipple of Port) well, that;

It's healing...

I hope I can be a good Aunty...

I need to bring this discussion out into the forefront

2006-02-21T16:27:00.000-08:00

Goodday: I wish to announce myself:

Widsom is known by her actions...Matthew 11...to what can i compare this generation? they are like children sitting in the market-places and calling out to other:

"we played the flute for you,
and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge,
and you did not mourn."

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'he has a demon.' The Son Of Man came eating and drinking and they say, 'here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and "sinners".'
But wisdom is proved right by her actions...

If I could explain...

She painted me, as I sat...'when she picked up the knife, I told her...I asked her why...she was there...why she was there but not REALLY there, when she could have been...

I have been praying in 'pigeon' hebrew...

the only way to relax was to hear someone play a harp song, in another flat...while I tried to sleep, the words 'rightful heir'...came into my head, while the neighbour was watching TV upstairs...

And then someone said, we are getting you both out, and I could see bags being packed...

do you have an address so that i can send my books for safer keeping????'

Perhaps she painted me,

I carved a six-pointed Star onto a borrowed bed last night...

I threw myself on the floor looking under the bed for my phone, and then lay there, and cried.

My painting looks darker, I am affected by mood...call it German Expressionist...

I don't have a teacher...

I don't know who is holding my hand...

I saw a vision of a beautiful woman laying in bed, and conversations...with her...days before the stabbing/painting...

So, this week has been good and bad, and I'm so confused because I don't get advice...

I'm going to finish that painting, today...Doves painted with fear and misery, and love and confusion...

I won't tell you everything...

BUT, next time I hear someone FUCK in the name of....Y/J
and hear the word devil each time I paint...

Painting is not Iconoclastic...
And a name like that is not to be known......

I remember a house somewhere, where ther was singing to God, in a conservatory on a roof, and it was so uplifting and I cried, and wandered outside in the wind, where I had been shown tiles, painted with every country of the world on each one, more than one country on eaxch tile, facing in all directions...I stood in front of the tile with the word England on it, and tried to pray and cried...

You Told Them We Were Both Gay

2006-02-19T22:42:00.000-08:00

so, gas and electricity bills have come up...

each night my ears feel like they are bleeding...perhaps the televisions are too loud...

in fact I felt like I was going deaf the other night from hearing pigs on the television when I was TRYING TO THINK!!!!! I wrote a note and complained to the 'community leaders' reply, that I didn't bother to pick up because I know it would be a negative was...we have our own trouble..with...bitch I told you I was mentally ill....and having problems.

AND NOW THE NOT MENTALLY ILL

Today in the midst of painting I hear something, someone talking, I am dreaming awake and this woman is VERY angry with me...

I feel ill from not eating enough and not having a period since January...(pills of course)

I'm sitting in my kitchen at the table trying to think this through and talk with all the other conversation outside in the Terrorblock...they think I'm a *^&*(&^&star...something something...ANGER...I say something like adulterous

'They Think We're Both Gay!!'

So, I'll get a man then, a calm man...get married...ANGER

'You called me adulterous!!! PIG!!!...and then suddenly she is in my kitchen, and has picked up a knife which earlier I have stabbed being bored and trying to relax while I'm painting...into a purple and white teatowel...so it is waiting there though I had noticed and moved it...blue period towels on innocent smoothie filled glass, randomly placed...

AND SHE STABS ME IN THE CHEST

And I'm already sitting on the bed and don't know what to say or what to do, thinking is this just me? in a parallel universe????nope...I say...

Calm down...

and I feel a calming sensation in my mind, immediately followed by the man upstairs putting his TV on, so I walk outside to try to think and buy more cigarettes, maybe talk To J, in the shop, but there is an old woman there, and she asks for ID to buy one can of scrumpy cider, because I just want to go back home and sit there and drink and try to think about this, and my painting..and it's raining...and I end up walking through puddles without looking and go to my sisters but she's out..and just sit there and all these men are walking past, some russian guys, whatever no-one bothers to talk while I'm texting and phoning...call J, she picks up and says she is on her way to work, and I wonder if she has said what's wrong? but I say nevermind...

And then I end up in that pub, where my books are left...just wanting to relax maybe watch the football, but the men from the shop are in there, and I'm thinking it means IVE GOT NO HEART...and looking at me, and there is an old grumpy conversation coming from the landlady I don't want to hear...and random blasts of music..and I watch the football, but I'm squinting sitting at the bar...and the books are no where to be found...maybe I left them on a bench friday ight...and I had been told NOT to call Pool, but I had rung after going to the cigarette shop, he didn't answer...

And I can't even talk to the Indian guy who keeps getting drunk in his shop and offering me alcohol, I tell him to please not buy me another, half shandy in the pub, and know I should have left after asking for the books...

So, I'm not giving any heart......and I'm wandering round the town in the puddles, thinking I've just been murdered somewhere else...

So, I've been murdered but I'm writing to you.

It's OK...i'm an idiot...

...........

And then I get an upsetting email, that I can do nothing about, which incidently.....

Below is an email ...Some solid brothers and sisters of the Lord are workingthere to share the good news of God's amazing love. They need a supernatural intervention! ________________________________________________________________Dear Friends I have just received a call from Jerusalem and Gaza informingme that this morning we have received another very serious threat. Fewmasked and armed militants distributed fliers around the area where theBible Society's centre is located in Gaza this morning.The flier included the following: 1- A threat to the landlord that if he does not evict us by the 28thof Feb they will blow up the whole building 2- A warning to the tenants in the building that they should leavebefore that date if we are still there 3- A warning for us that we should completely close down ouroperation in Gaza and not to try to relocate as we are being watched closely 4- Accusations that we spread a doctrine against Islam and that weare a Crusaders' evangelistic operation supported by the Crusaders' West 5- A strong worded warning about their seriousness proved by the bombwhich they blew up at the door of the Bible Society last week.

whatever ever happened to One.

I try to follow many religions, but why???? it's come to a standstill...

A woman shouted at me in Arabic, the other day, as she walked out of a friends house with her family...DONT WEAR OUR COLOURS..I was shocked, i think I must have looked like just another emo boy??but her husband smiled at me.....but I just pretended to run away, and pull my hood off... I wanted to say I am wearing the colours of the beloved...

I keep feeling
and blushing
numb numb numb
adnd uncaring......................

need to do something...instead of just sitting staring at a painting gone wrong

Are You Hearing Voices?

2006-02-18T18:45:00.000-08:00

er...so the Scottish worker called...'You're Aunt called..' (which one?, the one that heard me shout 'I'm blue, so you can all get fucked??!!' and went 'wahhh!!!' sitting upstairs doing her 'ohhh T.B is great!!science homework...(I'm proud of her mature studentity...asI smoked a cigar too heavily, with a ripped up hood over my head coat, on a bench next to some guy, who was saying 'I just want to stroke, and feel....' ...as my cousin smirked sat there and told me he had been with all these birds was moving in with one, no money, no care, tells some guy he imagines killing blokes,

some reason I don't fucking care...

.telling some guy all about some kind of f-ing medication I couldn't follow the conversation through...'why don't we go home and write a punk song? is this too fucking Torah for you!!??'...and I heard about a gang fight after a club that I am sore I missed because I need to get out more...

Social Worker: 'Are you hearing voices?' 'No, just TV's and people outside and motorbikes...I keep imagining things I wanna do and that are happening, and I just wanna sit and have conversations to get all this stuff out that I need to talk about, but everyone just sits in front of their TV...(like some guy's name got mentioned throughout a 'popular British soap'...while I drank VERY cheap red wine with lemonade at my Nan's granny flat.....sketch, sketch, sketch, scratch...ignore...and there were two soaps in a row and I'm sure they at one point had the same script, some of it actually mad me laugh, most of it sickened me...)...but I draw (did not say: visions) instead, (and leave me alone I have a hangover, no sleep, confusion) and I wrote to some A, girl instead...' 'oh, ok...sounded a bit quietly distressed...'Oh, yeah and I've forgotten about my massive desire for vengeance which has amounted to a strange aura throughout town, and actually you are depressing me, and I think I DO actually need a girlfriend, and yeah it's quite worrying that Scotland has become Nationalist...I hope you are married, so don't look at me with those doe eyes...and something else is bothering me bigtime-stupid'

Yeah, I've been in huge amounts of pain, and lack of privacy and repentance and all the usual, apart from the outbursts of singing in my flat...and the 'Inuit Ghosts'...mystery young women, that reply, innit, through the walls to each of my spoken/unspoken thoughts and when they come to life, play music, make babies talk and bang loudly on pipes, which I find; frightening...and the old married woman puking next door for a few nights and coughing, which I find frightening...

And the detective story: why did he stink and grumble about like an old man in front of a politics programme, IN WHICH he switched on the TVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV, without even fucking asking, as I have hazy nightmarish visions like rocking bodies, with just round black heads on charis, and think I don't like this 'i just wanna stroke, feel...' 3 hours sleep that night like a goddamn soldier of misfortune, hearing him and thinking, chanting; no no no no no no no no no no no no no no nonono no nono...leaves marmite in butter, which had actually

gne mouldy, from donations of butter which everyone forgets i don't even eat...Ur HAh...moves thingsin strange places, 'I'm having a breakdown...(which I've been having for weeks) I spend 40quid on him in pub, where his fucking ADAPTOR gets plugged into a switch in the pub, and we get thrown out of the pub, by a guy I know knows 'people' the one I keep wanting to call a 'faggot' for his dress sense, or because of people...I bring glasses to bar...he fucking starts having a go at me, look buddy I'm good enough to be a fucking barmaid,

why
didn't you ask first???' (I have to live here)

and the HAT in the dirty bath with cream shit on it...my crying breakdown, 'FUCK OFF!!'give him 10 pounds to 'fuck off' because I don't need to tell him my 'pROBlems'...'I'm not ready to meet your Eygpt blood letter exs, just siting there no wanting to go out...BUT 'stroke and feel...' and goes fucking nuts because his ADAPTOR 'breaks'...for ages...

lame, my head hurts can't write everything...) he writes my address down

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING????!!!! I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO KNOW WHERE I LIVE!!!!'

He sneakily writes it down again, 'what did you just put in your pocket???!!!...I tell him to get out...follow him...SEARCH HIS POCKETS and in doing so pull back the tenner...'you can have that...'

Back to breakdown....

And then I refuse to feel well in that bedsit and don't wash until I have cleaned the bath with bleach, fall asleep with bleach on my sleeves...wash the next day, but my loafer is burnt, scrub scars on myself with a bath cleaner brush....

...there are bite marks on my fucking lid of something...his towel, all now some kind of shit hanging around in my hallway........

And nevermind, the fact that Pool wants to beat him up, that everytime Pool fucking talks to me, his in my face..........................this is THE LAME VERSION

I had enough and got drunk on shandy last night.neverending hell
Actually enjoyed a band that kept singing SUICIDE...though sure one of the songs was something like...'burn the nigger'...DID YOU HEAR THAT POOL??' nodnodnodnod...but I like dancing to the evil music in the background, both the singers were shite, ended up in an E pub afterwards after Pool threatened me not to go there...'give me a
puff on that fucking joint..' walk off...

Get high...

drink neverending amounts of lemonade... see Woodman checking out a young girl's arse, feel sick, smoke another cigar...get asked to leave, for looking miserable?? walk home

leave

book
about a Chinese family in thereI borrowed from my Nan......

AND ETC..............

i'M HEARING ANGELS.....???????????????

ROLL ON THE APPEALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

I'm a Bigger Novel Than I MaDE oUT tO bE...

2006-02-16T21:20:00.000-08:00

If you are confused then I am sorry, I am just as much...

I find it hard to explain all this

And why chances are missed

everything is out there for me

but no-one seems tohave time away from their business their TV

I have given up TV...(unless you could suggest a good film)

I have run out of money......soon

I am crying

and singing

(and so is everyone else)

May be someday someone could write me a handwritten letter

The End...

And The Alpha...

raindrops and sunshowers fell today...maybe God asked what I wanted and no-one else heard?
I always blame........no

I am not a demon.............................perhaps mankind is

I told you

The Beloved knows....

and I wonder if I hear voices on the wind

And last night all the stars came out...I saw the plough and the moon was almost full

Back to the Garrett....

got any headphones I could borrow?

How I Feel

2006-02-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

the opposite to beatitude and back again, sore visions, falling flat in the car, accusations ofswearing under mybreathlast night from aunty as I fall over and hideinthebackof the car likeI use to when they droveme away from the house, remember, to answer 'yes' or 'no' as is saidinthe Testament...'No, I did not swear, you soundjust like my mother'...so after that I guess there was just anOK...text a guy knownas Clayboy telling himIfelt sucidal, (but now I don't and am currently relaxing from painting doves and desert flowers,as in which I had a vision of, amongst visions of hellish worry for his women, rocking chairs with no heads, all that I worry action of this painting kind is better than my stilted prayer...I have ventured out drunk onone bottle ofwater, and had been singing, Yerushalim, at a bus stopas when another worried woman of a much rather older physicalage,began in her whiteness to sing too...I had spoken newly to old aquaintances, though as yet in my first lonely venture I felt sick to the stomach, hood up and all,'shouldi wear my glassses or take them off, an array of beauty, which i doth ignore, and do remember...I have thrown myself into a purple lake,and tryto remember the feeling of water splash over me, the dog is allowed to do as he wishes while I concentrate,though he has ripped up a bag of flour,which i have rubbed over my hands and blown, so now covered in snowy colour...i have been through hellish crying visions,back and forth, and pray we shall allagain sing and laugh at the busstop andin the streets, if I were as good a member ofprayerasyou...here is my admitance of sticking imaginary daggers into walls, and falling flat on the kitchen floor, round classical music, and pulling my self up again and holding handstogether...I had called him, throatily, as from a text he said don't do anything stupid...

No, you are the one being stupid, i will see you in two weeks..'

I will go out again, and fiend brains are seemingly female but soon suddenly give free discounts advantage on Art, i see her brain, and another the beauty of an avalonian; worries, but i can tell her with a glance i can wash it off, and what is wrong with weakness in conversation?artists understand these troubles.... ...and vomit does not enter into the game as i feel no blood is arriving on said time, and often feel sick...and make themfeel better, my canvas marching through the shopping mall...my 'please let me relax' to aboy I am newly aqquanted with ...and a feeling i should not buy cigarettes today...water is wine, i do not gamble,

back to beatitude................

I find it hard to read a book through thesetimes, other words jump in i make comparisions...i talk to Tesco workers at the bus stop,'I called him back too'...I didn'ttell the boy in the coffee shop he was 'cooking'my brain...and the oppositeto beatitude is oppitude( partly apptitude)

backto beatitude...............................love

Something I Love.........

2006-02-09T20:32:00.000-08:00

I picked up a section automatically from the New Testament, and read from Timothy...about Widows...now, I'm not exactly a widow, but I guess according to this I have been acting like one, idling from house to house...I'm forgetting my immediate family, or I am trying not to, but too often the way I need to look out for everyone feels like I'm undergoing a responsibility that isn't mine, or perhaps it is percieved that way, I am the eldest granddaughter and in some way that is a responsibility...

Oh well, I knew looking up to St.Augustine was a trifle indulgent, like, yeah, he made all these mistakes and eventually went back to God, so why can't I, even though I was believing in God all that time and finding God in all different sources, apart from the usual 'phases' of teenage life...

No more bread and cheese girl...

Eejit

2006-02-09T18:55:00.000-08:00

one more post to end them all....what would be the best title for this post? who cares...I am happy and angry...I am cleansed...

think about this...a girl that needs to write a list of utensils to buy and imagines many things i want to do and imagine, things I do mentally, but instead; it becomes Art...has to write, 'ask about the appeal' 'like i spent it on drugs'...'get the bus home'...adds up sums and realises she thinks everything is more expensive than it is...displeased that the woodyard closes before 4 o'clock, unsure where in town to find canvas, wonders why WWH Smith has no big 'student' tubes of paint anymore, remembers rude shop keeper who says I sit around reading books in WH Smith, nearly cried all day...

covered my head the other night, and DECLARED, and zone thoughts out with a big dry towel on my head sitting next to the heater, cook vegetables and quorn bacon, eat...get high on reading Psalms out loud to the mutha, while he is upstairs watching football...get high on it without anti-depressants, because I believe the newspaper when they say the Pirate one is getting life in USA...invite Ed round to see me at weekend, imagine a beautiful fun weekend, do not want him staying in bedsit, remembers fact that the men I meet twist words; eg;

text; going to israel again? wouldn't it be nice to see engedi? and go to bethlehem?

he replies;

'why do you think i said i am going to israel...?!'
'well you said you had a flight booked on the lalalala.'
'that doesn't mean i am going to israel...'
(so, what the fuck does it mean???)
'Ok, do you want to come to Cornwall with me....when the weather gets nicer, in the spring...'

So, he can stay at Jimbo's if he so wishes, if they both so wishes, i will have to arrange, B. doesn't want a 'stranger' ('he's polite') staying here with her as she is expecting...

So, Damn you, think we are going to try out the anti-depressants Friday night, get high have fun, no sex hippy, sex is dirty...and Mr.P is DJ-ing, so decent music....guaranteed.

How long will the sun shine, please Bob?

This was supposed to be a political post, ain' it?

(read from beginning)

reading: a pulitzer prize winner...independence day

Purple Haired

2006-02-06T21:49:00.000-08:00

sex with a serial killer?

He came round, before that I thought I was going to vomit, felt really sick in the stomach all of a sudden before he came round, can I handle this, started with 'I need a piss'...yeah, I cleaned the bathroom too with Flash wipes ( Flash! advert), it smelt of cat's poo, kept thinking, cat's poo causes schizophrenia...(?)

Liar first, confusion in his brain' you said you was gonna knock me out...'Noooo, I said I was gonna go up stairs and knock out the wanker (Literal, gets off on football commentators) I keep hearing', well I thought about (and then read the new testament instead...the good parts)

This is too much, he got arrested for throwing cannabis at someone's car and for sitting in the car, because someone called him an arrogant pig...hang on, he called someone an arrogant pig...and ended up in the policestation, conspiring with the cops to go fuck more girls I expect...

I asked him about the strippers in the strip club...'yeah, I spoke to one of them, how long does it take and how much does it cost to speak to you?' she looked at her timer and said 1 minute 30 seconds, great I don't have to pay you, and he walked off...how horrible to have to time your conversations, I told him, and ain't it great that while these students have to meet men like you to pay their students fees, I can instead 'screw the social'...(but...I am not because men like that make me seriously ill), He huffed...

I had thought of having sex with him when he came over, sickening I know, but I thought...

Cleaned up most of the flat, I have so many new second hand clothes now that they just get moved around the room...read the Elephants chapter in a certain book, (The Q) I shall pelt you with my Art...

He also blasted 'B.l.u.e.H.a.i.r.e.d.C.u.n.t who split up with someone else that he dated who now cuts herself, and got beaten up by a man who dresses like a Nazi (I'd like to make friends with her)...'yeah, he's sleazy...I'm gonna dye my hair purple, then you can call me P.H.D.... Purple Headed Dick...'

'You're too thick.'

So...we are going shopping together tomorrow, if he doesn't make my head spin and my stomach turn just from being in the same space as him, oh the conversations we have at the kitchen table...him,him,him...and I wanted to show him my drawings...wanted to be serene but he immdeiately walked in.

I hate these words...

One More G-Post

2006-02-03T18:37:00.000-08:00

Needing to chill out yesterday: I turned the radio on, I can pick up many stations now...and heard a newsflash...head of so and so is released despite two counts of Racial Hatred:

"That f*(&*( N^%i shit! I'm gonna stab him in the neck!!!"

No, I won't though, you Britons know who I'm talking about surely? I immediately called my social worker, thinking why? Told her I'd 'just heard the news' that, ' I'm getting a job, as a cleaner', 'Oh! You have a job? Great! ' 'No, but I'll probably get the job, er I forget why I called just to let you know that....'

Eejit...

Meanwhile, sketching and sketching, bought another pad because the pad Iwas left with was a lined writing pad, but ya know didn't I once see a whole exhibition by someone in the Tate Mdern gallery, that was about dreams etc. and was also sketches on lined paper, a whole room full which I was also doing at the time due to lack of money... Brings me Joy to see Art...yip.

I failed my 'examination with ze doctor', he prescribed anti-depressants as well as current medication...I thought the only reason I'm creating is because I am depressed and I told him, I'm writing but I don't think my poetry is very good.

'Self-Esteem issues'

'No, Perfectionism'.

...and told him everything about the burnt down house, and events thereafter which was getting me depressed, Poolio still won't get my books back or pay garage rent...appeals to go through with, which made me shout and cry, at the parents...and I mistakenly had been paying rent for the burnt down house...which Dad switched over, but I have more to pay...

Well, sat down read through the leaflet, gives panic attacks in the first week...so, not a good idea...

Meanwhile...this country is sinking according to Scientists...;-/

I'm sketching images but no, of course no images of the Prophet...just a whole burst of everything that inspires me in everyday life, including anger and love...(yeah yeah, I know, If you had any...)

Or, rather 'the state of the small world'...

Plus, found some new tunes, not telling you what they are though...someone write why not?

because...

Crazy Aunty soon: Tim Burton has a book out, dunno if I'll be reading it to the niece/nephew though...

we are all equals...

a chil out

Snippets

2006-02-01T11:44:00.000-08:00

"He's not my type," would have been the best thing to say...but rather, "He is too overemotional for me, he believes in the fact that everyone including the government is out to get him, he got drunk and pulled my face in towards his in order to snog me when I would much rather have relaxed and continued a conversation, and he then percieved my negative actions to be a personal indictment towards his character which perhaps it was, when in no way did he realise that I am slow in relationships and can hold my drink quite enough to give him a feigned or perhaps fully sensible 'attitude' which unfortunately he considered flirting...and in no way is telling him his mannerisms remind me of a long lost date, a onset for proposals of marriage. In other words, he would give me a permanent headache, and rather more tears in my eyes than if I was single. And then, of course he must have realised that my being there, was not the same reasons for his being there.

And of course I was rather displeased when he and I encountered a Christian American lady who seemed rather out of sorts mentally and told her in a bullish manner that believing in Jesus was counter to believing in the Easter Bunny. "

RE: The Spade

"The dog peed on your spade, kid...it was standing up in the dirt in line with the blue
spade, but the dog chose the red spade to piss on....oh, I thought Mum had put it there to
be evil.'

Now I had stood there in the back garden, thinking if I don't move these spades, kids are
going to be picking them up and getting piss all over their hands. I watch the spades but no
one else seems to have noticed what has just happened because tehy are logged on to various
seperate television channels throughout the house, so I stub out the cigarette that I
haven't even noticed I was smoking, realising I haven't savoured a single one of my 2nd
pack of the day, stub it out on the dark wooden patio, and turn back to throw it in the bin
at first checking that has fully unlit...there are charcoal marks on the white wall by the
kitchen door,from previous stubbing and a wide scattered ashtray across the kicked up muddy
lawn. The other day I actually went round gathering all the cigarette butts and throwing
them in the bin, which I had already promised to do for a mere 20 quid, but got nitpicked and
mudslung.

"Why are you going to New York, T?"

2006-02-01T10:44:00.000-08:00

"To take pictures of bathrooms."

Jerusalem
is beautiful and wonderful and I

hope this delayed appointment with zee doctor goes well, I should be rather annoyed, but will keep calm:

And A Light In My Hand

2006-01-31T20:58:00.000-08:00

like some old dudes in the bible...

How many Galaxies are there on this planet?

2006-01-31T20:17:00.000-08:00

And who can answer this serious space between us?

This blog has been a lie...if I were to write the space between us...I am afraid everything would fall down and apart...

if I were to write the space between us and find the ones who have been through this experience I would know they are too poor to tell me everything...this galaxy, and four hundred others, and human forms... a galaxy of giants...a galxy wherein everything you say in one lifetime creates your own reality...

for example, were you to tell your children there were ghosts in this house...then they themselves would become echoes like ghosts, as I wander around to make some breakfast, I hear the echo my brother has left behind from talking to friends and his door is always closed, so I believe he is still there, then wander the empty house and find no-one...

What if, in the space between us, you had once had a memory that your family had been replaced by another family, call them aliens, in the space between us...

Myths know more of reality, than this plastic future does...Myths can be wrong unless you experience spaces in portals between us yourself...

My self is not this self...my self is:

My self knows more than the space between us...
My self is walking in a different uniform and a different body...
And if I were to write the space between us, my ego could make it stronger...and lead me away from standing in queues...

I wonder how you live in that other space, and where did you banish the Edomites?
Everyday I get raped...

Wearing a Hood

2006-01-31T17:34:00.000-08:00

"The Dog peed on your spade...oh, I thought Mum put it there to be evil"

Post Office:

Queue, 'Stay calm, I'm sure that man wasn't offended because you covered your nose, he walked out because the queue was too long, why did you sit on the floor? remain silent and still, Ha! They have yellow and black barriers here, Harriers, Barriers, (silent giggle) Do they call that Jerusalem team Barriers? Ha! Barriers! What team do they call Harriers? It stinks in here, why can't they put a fan up on the ceiling if it's too cold to open the windows, Barriers, Barriers! (laugh out loud)' Wave my rent card around my face...hit the little table and find a paper and pen, scrawl Beautiful Benefits Beva...

Old Man: "Put your card in the machine" (The card is already in the machine, I whack it a few times to show card is in the machine) "You haven't put in there properly...oh, she is actually getting all this money out to pay rent, red oranges, they're all invading me! ('you think that's my problem?') You can't pay electric here, but next week you will be able to...Go to Smoker's Paradise" 'Oh, yes, they're nice people in there, aren't they, you've got a problem because they are muslims, haven't you?' smile...

"Red!!!!"

Wander off outside...'What a stupid old man'...

"Can I get these men's trainers in a size six?"
(turn the shoe over to look at size,)

Woman in shop: "They are a size nine" ('no, they are a size six')

Try them on, a nice stylish cheap brown autumnal pair...

"Do you have any in a size five, for men with little feet?"

He Is In Hospital

2006-01-30T19:01:00.000-08:00

forgot to run with the baby in my arms to see someone in the room upstairs, i ran too quickly, after the room of rails of new clothes where we spent a time, picking an orange and green baby grower made of wool in the darkness, spent time holding him in my arms, choosing a brightly coloured jumper, checked with the image of a smiling sun...In the next scene I ran up the stairs forgetting the newborn baby had followed me, saw his face as he fell, as i turned and i ran back down quickly see-ing him lie on the floor, and picked him up and held...and woke up...

UK Guy tried to jump off a cliff the other day...I just got a message from him today...I called him, surprisingly...I had no idea where he was from the message...He is fine, he says, the doctors haven't even given him any pills, he should be out in 28days...It's hard for me to give advice, stay away from TV, have you got any books to read...it's easier being a man in hospital...I never say what I should say, could hear other people in the background, felt like telling him I shouldn't have called him the way I'm feeliung, but I'm 'ultra-sensitive' to anything around me, and 'non-ultra sensitive.' We have plans to go away together if he doesn't end up going to court in the spring.

Stopped my Mum and Dad from getting me out of the house, to go back to the bedsit where I have no electricity, I will concentrate tomorrow on sketching and painting.

Talked to Baby Sister about NerdWitches, she made this up...had a long discussion about it...she described what they look like... really, she has no idea, i found it rather offensive when she described what they look like, because I already know what those she described look like, and I would prefer not to hear them called that, as I assure you they are not... I said what about fat nerdwitches, with piggy noses and big heads being of the male variety? oooohh, nasty and in my head I had another view of female nerd witches, and what about some that talk about material all the time, a whole spectrum of nerdwitches...i.e they don't look like nerds, kid, and if YOU are reading this then you are not a NerdWitch, unless you are spying on me but apparentlt NerdWitches don't go near computers, I told her I never went near the internet in college, for the same reason of believing, It was nerdy...and thought of this one:

Art Therapist; 'You're just childish...' (I'm sitting there sketching, as this is Art Therapy)
(What should have been said:)
'And this sketch, I conclude, looks like a load of goddamn marching boots, or buses...oh shit, what a bitch,... I'm on the phone now, call the government! Call For Peace, this bitch is telling me what's going down!!!!! Call everyone, telegram, pigeons, get this shit out on the subways and streets, we are all gonna die, AIH!!!'.

I gave up going to Art Therapy straight away, after looking at her dire lesbian clothing and wooden necklaces stringed with the teeth of dead Feminists...

...I can't be bothered to write this, I reverted to calling Baby Sis, Itchy and Scratchy, and please shut up, I want to go to sleep, she sang a good song that she may sing at Mass, it was helping me sleep...everything is affecting me...my hands feel like they are disappearing as I type...and my mind can't function until I get my own study...

Yesterday I only smoked 3 cigarettes...today, I smoked more, because,

Yesterday, I immediately woke up when Mum handed me a pill as I fell asleep...the rule is not to take drugs even these ones, full of unmentionable chemicals...I woke up and went downstairs to smoke a cigarette, because...habits form when death approaches on cyclical breaking of energy...dying chakras...unmentionable lack of good manner fucntions...if someone wrote my life, they did not write it very well...the extras seem to think they can form opinions when they really have only been given one line to say...and the main characters are being replaced, yet I am not quite ready to talk to them...I have found new characters such as the girl that works in one of those coffee shops, how do I befriend a main character like that, when extras make her say what she has been paid to say by a different film, with the same soundtrack played to her every day and I hear something else more grown in her...this one isn't a love story, but a rather more interesting, humble womanly gateway...and I need to talk to her when I feel cleaner...

UK Guy will be OK, but I am too scared to visit him there even though my Mum and Dad thought it would be a good idea, but I will call him again soon...

My Weekend In Poetry and Dreams and Sadness

2006-01-30T15:54:00.000-08:00

I do wonder why poetry is so disentsteemed in this house...I will build a collection and YOU WILL KNOW IT IS ART...Job centres are open every day. They understand not I must relax before the big appointment. Drove me to call quietly, the dog; a hick dog, he was even too frightened to jump inside the house over the broken tiles outside, I do not know why they have been not swept away, I don't even know why they are there.

Now, those pills of mine, forced to take one last night, I am never well on any kind of drug do not have the physique, woke up late when I wanted to wake early, still mother's screams echo in my ears. Have you seen Tarnation? I didn't want to watch it while he did, sat there read a book, listened occasionally watched it...Will buy a printed t-shirt when I can afford to: 'I'm with Renee.' You know, not with, but with...

'you are a Narcissistic Paranoia at The Postman!' tol' Daddy
His baby is having a postmans baby
I had my own baby if not if twas from my own womb
Twas a suckling child of new baby clothes, you big lolals
Chose for itself some of a colourful baby grow
'Would you not like the jumper, as is a sweater in dirty fields of cities?'
Did not but followed me tomorrow on working legs upstairs
and I worried watching it wave both it's tiny arms on the 4th or 5th step and it fell and I ran
My baby had a moment of death in it shock
But I held it my arms, and talked and soothed
My baby shook, shock...I held it in my arms...Arms.
It smiled, alive don't worry for my pain, I did not die
Held him in my army guilt...

2nd Episode

Mother said:'ARSEOOOLA WALHAHA WAH!!'
Twas merely a call to the jobcentre
BRaibs are rapered
raped you know

3rd Episode

Got a text message yesterday mourning

Do not cry on New Dog Year Day...or cry for the whole year!
I did for seconds
cross on that
Do not wash your hair or lose good luck!
I did wash my hair for longer than seconds
cross on that

Brains are stuck in traffic
Drilled and bursting at the wheel
falling sideways by the open door
and vomiting vomiting

I imagined:
A big peace sign on this road!!
Midnight will be stroked with wide compass
and white emulsion

Text message:
What is this?
BEATNIK FUX
DNon g

I haven't done anything I said I would do, so I am not going to talk about what I am going to do, because I've bloody had enough of doing nothing...and you could say 'Girl you're so free, everyone's got the greeneye on you, and their own problems but refuse to break out and spend good time with yo annoying self.'

Dizzy M

2006-01-28T20:53:00.000-08:00

I called Pool...fix my washing machine, the heater switch sparked when I turned it off, nasty sparks, or something like that...(but I wasn't that nasty to him) I have wandered out like a mad woman, dressed in two pairs of trousers, two tops that I have worn for three days, free my daze, I wanted to have a bath, but took his advice in switching the boiler off, even though he may actually have been stoned when he said this, he gave me a lift to the post office so I could pay rent and electric, oh Post Offices dont open on a Saturday, so I went to the Co-op, to get some moeny out, would J-Ica and Bread like some wine after the gym tomorrow?... and no I don't have a swimsuit, I will have to tell the old biddies I am taking my pyjama swimming badge... Oh, I can't use a post office card to get money out here, 'Like they've given me any bloody money!' stood outside, thinking I haven't even got any money in the bank, stood there, called Mummy on last 14p credit...Met a good looking well dressed 'foreign' guy in the lift while waiting there with Pool, 'oh, I like your jacket.' We went outside, a guy dressed like Elvis, gave me a typical 'I want to eat you' look, 'Yes! I know!! I look a mess!' I hollered, and waved my hands up, rather old-fashioned of me...Pool says they're Turkish, I said maybe they are Kurds, or Albanian, 'Lemon [Kurds]' he said, I said who knows where they are from, does he want me to explain that whole thing...

...he also says he is going to America to meet Juliette Lewis, funny, when I bought her and her bands EP, he said, 'sounds like fucking Kim Wylde.' Funny, when I said I liked Goldfrapp, Bernadas decided he would download everything this poor woman has made, including gig footage...and only dreadnaught Angels know what he was thinking at the time...well, he invited me to the gig, 'nah'...

I have angry imaginations, I hear things on the 'radio' like...'IF YOU DO THAT WE'LL KILL YOUR SISTER!!'...and then think 'shit, crash your car then.' I imagine a bazooka and shooting trench holes across motorways...no-one has changed, I wonder why I think People should..

Like, I wandered round the Old City market, and stopped to look at knives, a boy wanted to show me one of them, and he accidently dropped it and it broke, 'That was my fault.' I said or something, as his Father arrived... but then I went sick, I said I wanted to buy Pool a knife, but I wasn't sure whether I actually wanted this knife myself with which to, mmmhhhmmm, and I spoke to the gentleman merchant, and we talked about him, I told him how old Pool was, how we have fights, he said that was quite normal, (but this guy was informed about our punching, screaming, kicking, being dragged out of houses, glass smashing, bloodletting, broken wrists fights (ha, he fell over then...I actually laughed at that one in my fear, I was running away from him across the road and he stumbled down the steps) he asked if Pool had a study...'No, but he has a computer.' (thinking if I recall, inner annoyed laughter, at like huh! like he would have a study!, ) but no not that amused...

He recommended a letter opener, it may have been the way I was weighing the ornamental knife in my hands,...told me if things were, (I can't remember) peaceful? or rather if there was no good and bad (I'm still wording this wrong) if everything was sweet all the time, life would be boring...I agreed rather unenthusiasticaly, and disagree...today (d)...but aren't other people's problems a good excuse for when you mess up yourself?

Higher consciousness like a self-sustaining self-sufficient planet in Star Trek, where People don't wanna hear this...

I'm drawing sketches, Lowry-like stick people, (yeah, she did go to that gallery, and I hear she is getting married now, I'm glad...) the skylines I see, factories, I read the local paper sometimes, and find out they are building more and more factories, perhaps an airport all along the Thames estuary...I'm going to paint if I can...I draw women covered up, same stuff I always drew, towerblocks, objects I see on the table, geometrical lines, schizophrenic wobbles...Trees, and parks and things I see out of the window...sometimes I feel doing that is like being back in the mental hospital, but I may actually, unknowingly be building up a portfolio, and no, the pictures aren't very good...

I am trying to translate, I think I will have to learn sign language again, as someone on the internet has recommended a good Spanish writer to me, we may meet in London, if I am not locked up by the dreaded doktor...

No blood, no pain...

And yes, I am now a vegetarian...of my own choice...

I'm GLAD you BANNED all The Sites I persued in the library

2006-01-27T20:05:00.000-08:00

except the ones where little kids accidently log on afterwards and learn the Tgrammaton...dear oh God HELP THESE SOULS!!

Last nighgt, my heart cracked...something, somebody, some guy, some noise...

SCREAMING...not a Rebbe Nachman stylee scream or perhaps, actually it was,
THEY ARE MURDERING ME, I AM HOLLERING TO GOD!! scream..

And for a moment I got confused, I could hear carousing, typical outtta-the pub jolly guys singing, but for the screaming...

And then I took it personally and thought it was a warlike scream...

So I couldn't sleep for listening to it...thinking, 'don't (do) (my Dad is sitting grumbling at this two computer station, musn't grumble, uh? crowding...blah hahaha, like I give a'''' I LOVE BEER, shandy) that in the eventuation, that someone one day may actually be murdered outside here, and then what...I'm too little to be running down lots of flights of stairs to wonder what the FUCK is going on?

My washing machine is broken...every time I open it it leaks water everywhere...

The social workers will not give me money from December, they haven't given me money since June... they hung up on me when I said the word 'fucking'...so I told Judy that actually I am allowed to scream...I mean swear...I don't like to scream these days but listen to classical music as I'm spinning on an office chair, and watching the snow fall down, and happy birthday Mozart, but I'm going out tonight to 'same old, sane old'...

I have to see the pyschiatrist soon.

'Yes, sir...'

Feels like it's gonna be a trial, and if I act like a goddamn reporter, at least it's better than sitting there dribbling.

It was snowing...

Don't think for one minute that beer doesn't help me sleep, that pills don't knock me out...that J-ica used to walk home from school talking to herself and walking into people's gardens, like pregnant sister informed me...I never noticed...don't think I'm not going to Cornwall, don't think I don't feel like Cornwall gets invaded by the 'beautiful people'...don't think it's nutty to want to lay down in a feild and look at the sky, just because it's winter...

Don't think...don't draw conclusions from this burst of strange laughter...because I'm not actually laughing...

I am going out tomorrow, and tonight will be scary...but they don't sell Scrumpy Jack cider there...

A Procession Of Beautiful Lesbinas

2006-01-26T20:26:00.000-08:00

...dressed in long colourful dress, flowing robes...etc...

I, for some reason found a gay and gay humanist ((???) I question that, wait for it) athetist, agnostic...(always forget what that means)...website...called G. something...cockatoos!! hilarious!

Against the 'Religous Right'...ken. Hang on I'm going out for a cigarette, and will clear my BEAUTIFUL HEAD ONLINE!! hang on...oh, she's gone...I should have been less religious...or more...

I'm going to write to them, essay entitled: Mystical Lore Of Magical Lesbina Love...oh, hang on, you're not supposed to know about...EVIL OLD BIDDY ALERT!!! zing zing zing...zap...

Here I have found a list entitled, ELEVEN THINGS YOU CAN DO TO FLIRT WITH THE RELIGIOUS RIGHT...oh, sorry it said fight...

Numero 4 (yes, I am allowed to slightly berate...) and I quote, correctly:

Avoid services, stores, or products where the Christian fish or "victory dove" symbols are displayed in the advertising. Chances are that some of the money you spend will go to fundamentalist churches and other hate groups. Be aware that In-N-Out Burgers is owned by fundamentalists and that Domino's Pizza once gave its "Humanitarian of the Year" award to Dr. James Dobson, leader of the fundamentalist hate group, "Focus on the Family."

Yeah, you didn't know Gays could be bigots too, didya?

But I like the whole -communisto-religious (TURN THAT TELEVISION OFF) -anti-bad-food-poverty-of-native-american-mexican-indigenous-peoples...

They just didn't word that 'right'.

Look it up...you might like it...as for my own personal vendetta, excruiating, personality, pain, evil old biddy fear, why did he get to go to america, pray for a drive-by, go backwards on that with religious sensible forgiveness, personal misery, and lack of a go getting life...

here's the site, though on no accounts tell them I approve...

http://www.galah.org/11things.html

Local Insanity

2006-01-25T18:48:00.000-08:00

yes, earplugs were a wise choice, that is all I have to say on that matter...

Fat Lady came back with her dog, I heard them outside, as I read a book...'Let not your sin rule over me'...she scolded him as he barked at her...

I have an anti-evil eye hanging over my window, well I had. I had begun to believe it may not have been the prevention but the cause... spending yesterday wandering Ikea, and declaring that I would like to move all homeless families into each pre-built apartments, food provided by the all night cafe...declaring it only to my mother and sister and any one else who may be walking by...I enquired about whether there were any windchimes to be found, I was directed to the section next to the interesting waterplants, I found a giant windchime replacement, made of toilet rolls, I wobbled it, it did not chime...

On the way home, from the holy land, my bag went through a security check...

'You have a hand in your bag.'

What!? I thought, someone has put a severed hand in my bag, oh my!!!

I've given myself the task of reading through psalms, each day, according to the library computer, I need read a selection part way through each week.

Today, I forgot to go to college because I thought it had bad memories. I am spending too much of my money. I must not sit in a newsagents reading more of the bible, which appertains into me arguing with the shopkeeper, and messing his papers up by accident, (I read about a politician who keeps being asked if he is gay by a certain newspaper, this made me laugh out loud, as his answer was, he has propsed to many, but...)

I met some kids walking through the e-state:

'What have you got in that bag?'

'A bible and a poetry book...yeah...don't bother, it's angry.'

Worries about Water

2006-01-24T22:34:00.000-08:00

Does writing this in the middle of stress reveal my idiocy?

I am concerned that I only write the everyday and then string my own self up in not so much lies, and I'm talking silly things here, like, (Mum convinced me not to buy Tabby that gameboy game, led me away from buying her something in the gadget shop, and then my own idea for her was to drag her away from her computer games, (cos she was crying about not being able to kill a dark wizard, and girl, I could relate, so I said let's go take 'maybe he's gay' dog out and find some real fairies and wizards, and but really wanted to get her outside and have a conversation (I told her the story of Romeo and Juliet, (she asked) and all about the political divisions in the time of Elizabeth the 1st, and also the other silly moment wherein I met a guy at KFC, with a burger on his head...) and to look around at things in nature...) but boldness, I wanna wipe this slate clean...I want to delete my pictures, I want to stop dishonouring those heroes and heroines I love, and I want some peace...and then some fun.

I want to write what worries me, but if I get too political without trawling through the whole googlesphere, then what? I'm not the primeminister but I could have given coherency. But then, I always thought it was wrong to give one's opinion when I was tired and hungry.

This blog is too personal, I don't what it was supposed to be in the first place, an explanation, a call for help...

Karen and a new comedy show have actually brought me back to laughter, despite her carousing of the worldwide Christian team. The comedy show: a scene, two bemused british officers on a spaceship meet an angry alien and the female officer, who is very tall and rather large, offers him 'English Tea?', 'English Tea?', then alien knocks the tea out of his hand...I could relate to this...it reminds me of when a UK Guy and myself met a rather bedraggled Jewish man selling those red cords, he believed UK Guy and I were married, we did not tell him otherwise, at this he waved his hands over me...a blessing, Karen went on to tell me this was a curse!!...got me thinking yesterday, why? because I have been mistakenly reissued into some kind of re-marriage when I was never married in the first place? Also, having already been blessed twice, or perhaps three times considering the Christian Sabbath meal I attended and perhaps mistakenly converting to Islam whist talking in my sleep and the fact that my Nan may have put whisky in my bottle when I was a baby to help me sleep, or did she do that with my cousin, because she worried so much that he hadn't been baptised, that she took it on her self to make her own ceremony in her council flat, and will the noble thing be to go through a Holy Communion at the same time as my little sister, like a hulking fish, or am I so full of water, (literally, I weighed myself on a new-fangled machine, I am about 80 percent water if I recall, no doubt incorrectly) that it is best to keep me away from electrical products, apart from hairdryers and computers...and Latin...

Have I frightened the neighbouring bedsitters by actually moving silently around my room and trying to hold in my inopportune laughter at such things and was it wrong to tell Tabby I wear white because it is the Chinese colour of mourning, morning? and the Hebrew colour of forgiveness? Have I frightened the neighbouring bloggers, by mentioning kidnapping...? At the moment I have only set sights on kidnapping clever puppies...(laugh)

Bughead revealed Bughead had given her baby over to some strange lady she had never met, as strange lady wanted to babysit and would not be convinced otherwise, and even turned up at her door with her own pram. Perhaps Bugheads like to play with the truth, but at least they make me laugh...

Looking Up At The Sky...rewrite

2006-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

but too good to scream fully in public and bedsit, just a 'Clunk'-(I mean Sloth outta the Goonies, I've been calling ex-pretend-husband that) like 'Urrreuagh!' agony as I boiled the kettle, and did the washing up over and over again...I am intensely afraid of Old Biddies, a warning to all young girls, if you have a song stuck in your head from some awful never-heard-of-it boyband song as you wander a supermarket alone, do not sit there on a bench singing, 'I want my baby-or something' because dirty old biddies (middle-aged English, not very old women, UGH!) will reply 'I want a fuck'...and then you may accidently either start singing that or turn round point a finger and go 'bang'...

I also happened to look at the pages of The Guardian today...on the front page, a Hamas group waving flags, I knelt down in the shop reading it but couldn't read too much of it...just one section that said a man was killed for looking 'too well dressed'...!!!!! This is about the Gaza Strip, how there would be peace in the region when the Jews had left but now Palestinian men are killing Palestinians...I stopped reading it after that...

...but sat on the bench with my plastic bags hoping someone was going to come sit on the bench with me, or help carry my shopping...sitting there singing; 'Alas my love, you do me wrong' over and over as I watched the cars, I drank some Cola, and went into the bakers to buy a cake and call a friend because there were two weird looking 'biddy' men standing near me, dressed, couldyabelieveet!? in Army camoflage and the other in a bloody leather jaclket with a fat belly, and I did not want to call someone in front of these two goddamn drugdealing perverts...walked out of bakers and realised I had left the cola can in my pocket, soaking my coat through which already has a rip in the pocket from when I took 'priest protector' dog out and his lead got caught on it, and also a rip in the back of coat from getting it caught on the door from when mum screamed about the 'gay' dog trying to get out of the kitchen, I swear the other day I could hear 'maybe he's gay' dog arguing with the neighbours dog, in English!

'Maybe he's gay' dog, is very well behaved around me, apart from trying to fuck 'priest-protector' dog who is very peeved with being around 'maybe he's gay' dog, in his aging years...'maybe he's gay' dog is currently waiting by the door, head hung low and now lying there...good, he calms down around me, I know that he has to be tickled when he starts jumping up at your face to bite you, he's only a puppy, so he likes me, he even sits on my lap... I hate hearing my parents bitching at me as I write and Adam talk booming shit as he wanders around the kitchen, while I'm trying to write, they sound moronic...aside...this is a pointless post...

Something good in the midst of all this dross, I spent a few Fridays ago being flirted with in a cubicle...she wanted to snog me but I had a terrible outbreak of spots at that moment, and then she didn't want to snog me, so I wanted to snog her, and banged on the doors to tell everyone to go away, but I didn't snog her, because I didn't want to snog her, then she wanted to wrap her legs around me, and then I didn't/did want to snog her, and then she kept staring into my eyes, so it was all nice fuzzy feelings, in the upper brain area and when she talked to me sometime through msn, I felt clean and brighter, but wrote her moaning misery, but I'm not going to snog her because I feel like I get on her/my own nerves, I gotta snog someone, HAHA...the band that played were Amazing, they are called Self-Inflicted, a heavy rock band with a female singer, she even hung out in the girls toilet which I found very 'good' lol (shutup) usually they are so stuck up or tired? that they pack up and go home straight after a gig...funny thing is, after I brought 'him' into the toilets to speak to her, ('you can have her' tried to discuss it with him afterwards, he was not amused) she is beautiful...then a girl (I don't know this one) wandered in, said to me; 'You're a priest'...as she was about to close the cubicle door (I thought she meant just another pagan high priestess)...I pointed and replied 'And you're a Lesbian.'

My Mum hates me...

hahahaha......and.......wait.

24th January

I'm poor...but if you want to get here, i have a kitchen, a bathroom, somewhere for you to sleep...just need to gather friends for a gathering...

Going out to buy baby sis a game for her gameboy...
And hang around decorating with sis whose having a baby; at the weekend...

JOY: Bughead has called her baby AMBER, I like that name...

It Ain't Over Til...

2006-01-21T17:27:00.000-08:00

After the disbelief of the social worker, and all the impossible ties of absolute sudden memory of everything that happened before, during, after I went nuts, and even her belief that I was about to whack her in the face as we left, (I stood too close to her, and waved my hand up and said 'hello?' because her face looked completely blank throughout my whole breakdown in the middle of said place (library) re; 'hello? you must have had a long day, are you tired?' why the fukc did I not say and sit like I had thought through the night before and instead walked around waiting for her (because I was early for the appointment,) asking a woman in the cafe for a cup of tap water, asking the receptionist for a pen 'Ahm on the phone!', go out twice for a cigarette, and then walk in singing 'Mocha! Mocha! He's a Mocha!...and after the appointment, flip my card out, like, 'yeah, I'm the police woman in that film', and then sit crying in front of everyone and the computer because I had no-one to write to...

And now getting all forgiving on my own ass, as they say...I go and call him various times...'I'm leaving.', I tell him, and then realise in a weird way it's like me telling him to 'get out of town.' He has a card waiting for him from a bloke he crashed into, he also has to move his old van from the parking area before it gets towed away, and instead of me doing something crazy divorcee like, like selling the old van, I tell him that I had that idea. (the idea of selling the van, or rather just sticking posters and a phone number on it, because I don't know anyone much, and ain't about to ask people in the street.)

After walking around town, I end up sitting outside Blue Jay's and crying again...imagine some old busybody walking past; 'ah! that little lesbian's crying for her.' No, luv, I'm on bang, bang,...UGH!! wait.

After that I go to my cousin's, not actually bothering to go a different way, away from the place he is staying at. My cousin is not there, Aunty is though, and as she opens the door, I am leaning against the wall, crying, again...

I tell her childishly, I am going to take an overdose, she phones the social workers to have a go at them while I call my Dad to take me home, and make sure I am keeping an ear out for what she saying...she has a go at them (this leads to my social worker actually calling me the NEXT DAY to see if I am dead, I could imagine the call, 'are you dead?' 'yeah' 'OK! I'll see you lablahla.' And she wondered why I had called her a fucking idiot.

And then Aunty gives me a free packet of tobacco and I write scribbles in the ashtray when I put a cigarette out...'hmmm, looks like a Hebrew Letter...' at first think it is Yodh, no it is Vav (See This Is Not Sufi, on my profile) Or was it Zayin? Ashtrays are very small, I have looked the letter meanings and the Psalms...and this is supposed to calm me, I keep losing at the moment, I think, I think I may be about to have another heartattack...My Mum said she saw my Nan sitting in the highstreet staring into space, ('I think's she's going nutty'...More repetition, why does she have to be like that all the time, she always says that about my Nan...She didn't even give her the painting I did in in a few minutes when I was trying to feel better, a painting of a little girl in blue and white, yeah I should deliver it myself, I mean't to last week but I keep putting myself on repetition by coming here...perhaps I feel someone should read this, perhaps I want to be around my family a bit more, imagine it; Father watching TV, Mother shouting at me and the dog and don't let the dog out! Lil Bro on his computer games, attitude, attitude, well actually I'm here for dinner but my Dad called ealier without bothering to tell me the time, and I'm here to write this and last night, a girl upstairs went nuts banging the waterpipes (which we're right beside my 'about to fall asleep finally' head...(she lives above a young couple with a baby, (I think they've been 'away' for the last few days too, in fact I think it is actually her boyfriend who lives there, he looks older unless they've moved in someone else there, she repeats the same two songs during the day, 'the boy is mine, lalalala' (I DONT WANT YOUR 'BOY'!! I thought last night and the other day and the other day, AGH) 'Gangsta's paradise.' I used to love those two songs when I was younger but I really don't want to hear them on repeat, and I lay there first thinking 'just let me go to sleep! I don't want your boy!' then, am I gonna have to prepare for a fight? Why is she throwing things around at 1:00AM when I can tell they are not even having a fight/or a party? will someone call the police, should I? No! even if someone does, will she say I did? I know she's not even having a party, I have never even met her but maybe she knows me...Is she pissed off because I played back Pete Tong, mixes which made me feel a lot better and ready to party, before I decided to forget everything and go meet people at the gig last night? 'You're my pussycat!' great song...Am I gonna have a heart attack? then just went to sleep because I have to deal with it or rather the communtiy leaders that live on my floor do, but they may be a little deaf, I'm sure that noise on the waterpipe reaches all the way up and down through the towerblock...hehehe. better.)

(Little Bro has given me a copy of New International New Testament, and Psalms, I think I actually preferred my litte black hardbacked King James one. I don't like the way this one is written, so new it's so far away, I dunno I'll ask an expert.)

And meanwhile, my family doesn't quite have a clue what is going on, and you dear reader, probably don't either...

So I'd forgotten fight! remembered Jesus...great.

And you just do not need to know what else has been going on the past few days...Unless any commenters think I should write it...

This is good therapy...