shut up and wiggle, worm

sehnen  posted on Aug 08, 2008/views 41/

friday 8 august 2008….   greenfield    (8-8-8… the chinese think this is a lucky day. for some, I guess)

αποθανησκειν θελω….  So the sibyl supposedly once said, when she had been trapped. I wonder if the sibyl had Asperger’s. I myself hate to be trapped, either physically or psychologically.

Enormous disgust for the three females who were the three principal players in the ravaging of my life. Total animosity for Matthew and his colleagues, if in fact he has told truth about himself and these colleagues “down from Burlington,” as I, so far, believe. Antipathy for those I am, according to him, being protected from.

Picture yourself in my situation. But you probably can’t. Probably don’t have enough empathy to do that. In my situation, you would see three women, one of whom was supposed to help you, who took nasty, salivating delight in destroying you. You would see the pack of the mafia-chick’s associates, knowing already, as most amerikans do know, what kind of filth organized crime are. You would see only metaphorically the grandfather you never met, whom you thought was an immigrant painter of houses, now turned into an organized crime guy himself, says Matthew. And you would see Matthew, who brought this crime-news to your life, doing his undercover performing, and his pals doing it too, and quite possibly using you, without your consent, as bait for people that the undercovers are drooling for. And what else could you see, if you could picture yourself in my situation,  but human evil, human consciencelessness, human ugly muck? Unless you live in fairyland, or in total denial (and maybe fairyland is where you are when you live in total denial), how could you be in my situation and see the human race as anything but black?

Maybe you could, but it is beyond my make-up. I’ve been a misanthrope with Asperger’s all my life as it is, and every stinking thing that is done to me and mine by any human, or in this case by a great many of them, only makes me fear and detest my own species with more heat.

Matthew, from where I sit, you and your pals are as dirty as the ones you fish for.

I’ve said before that while I have enough rage for homicide, I don’t have whatever else it takes to pull it off. Apparently my grandfather had it, but I don’t. Nor do I, thus far, have what it takes for a fast and decisive suicide. That I hope will change, as my own intellect tells me that it is an idiocy for me to continue to live in such enormous grief and rage. My own personal reasoning tells me that if living is only darkness and struggle and hurt, then it is a waste of time and breath. I hope I’ll become able to end it.

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Another loaded day

Page Fifty-seven

Wednesday 30 June 2010             Turners twisting

            Wednesday 2 July 2003   a very black day for me and the animals
            Wednesday 4 July 2007   the last 4th of my own life
            Wednesday 2 July 2008   Matthew tells me people want to harm me


Another loaded day, full of echoes and shadows of dark things on summer days. Triggers of trauma. Memory that picks at the scabs of those days, making them sore and red, infected with the loss, the meanness, the uncalled-for casual cruelty of humans.

It happens from time to time, a loaded day. So today is another. I wish all that pain in my scabs today returned to you a thousandfold: returned to the alchy landlord, Nookie, and his chick; returned to the insane landlady and the insane mafia-chick (and all her cohorts); returned to Matthew Lacoy; returned to Shirley Temple at the DMH. I owe you all a debt of suffering. If I could pay that debt with my thoughts alone, I’d be doing so this moment.

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