Author: Dgbcfhn

While reading Bartleby the Scrivener I stopped after a few paragraphs.  Because the oddest thing happened to me – I could see Herman Melville.

I saw Herman Melville as he loved to write.  Sitting in a corner of a pub, drinking while he wrote.  He loved the sound of words, and he would roll them around in his mouth.  Finding the word, he felt was the best.  Round and around in his mouth.  Sometimes stopping to watch the people carry on in the pub sorta like watching television.

It was such an odd experience.  I saw it with such detail and clarity, I told my brother nearly as soon as I saw it.

After reading more of the story, I saw more of Herman Melville in my head.  He had health problems.  Small and easily unnoticed.  Nothing that would have been detected or cause for alarm in a doctor’s office or visit.  Yet, it caused problems with his mind effecting his relationships with his family and eventually his work relationships.

It could have been something as minor as a vitamin or mineral deficiency.  Today it is possible to not receive enough B-vitamins in our food and diet, so I could only imagine back in the 1800’s where refrigeration and ice where not standard to keep food from spoiling how easily a diet could keep you alive while your organs suffered borrowing nutrients from one another attempting to breathe and keep blood purified.

Island living was something Herman Melville was surprised to find out how much he enjoyed.  The cold, damp, wet weather of Northern winters could have been a little too much of a burden on his system.  It could have been a fabric that bothered his skin.

I saw wool.

I saw itchy wool.

It could have been a sensitivity to the material, or something in the process that his skin did not react well to, yet it was enough of an annoyance that it created conflict with his thought mind.

Shouting at others and unable to make up for it afterwards.  Not wanting to either.  More than a temper, conflicts, personality clashes.

Then, there was the enlightenment that the Anglo church was not the only place God existed.  People of different nationality and races could also have worth, be Godly children.

Then, I don’t know what happened.  Something on the island, the food, the weather conditions, sanitation, something happened where he started to disconnect not just from his family and home.  Herman Melville started to disconnect from the world.

I am uncertain that any of this could be determined to be true so many years after his death.

However still, I saw it.

I saw Herman Melville in my mind’s eye.

Imagine a place where you could create a real-life battle of dark vs. the light while using real people.

Like a chess board of black and white with real people as the players.

This is something I will be writing more of in other pieces because the destruction of such an infantile thought process to allow to take place with real consequences is obscene.

For in my reality what has taken place is that black men, African-American males are sometimes good and sometimes bad.  They add mega mass calories to food this is not good.  They stink, are foul-smelling to a repulsive degree, also not good.

Yet, black woman.  African-American females are the ultimate villain, destroyer of all things good, and represent filth and germs, stink and foul-smelling, repulsive to the nose.

You should be swearing.  You should be screaming, swearing, and cussing in your head as you read this.

My exasperation is beyond words.

It is repugnantly vile this story-line was ever green-lit.

My face and body are on fire as I am icing my body, wet wash cloths on my face to keep cool.

Disgusted.

You go way too fast anymore.

I am no longer in Los Angeles swerving in and out of traffic, nor am I on vacation.

The back log in itself presents a tremendous pressure in and of itself.  To me alone do I feel the pressure.  Then, I have in my head someone giving – I should say, shoving – information they either want me to write or a chore list of things to do while I’m driving home, waking up, or trying to get enough coffee in my system I don’t immediately want to start crying, curl up in the fetal position, or crawl back to bed pulling the covers over my head to rest my bones and weary mind.

It feels like shoving junk into an overstuffed garbage bin with an eye dropper sized funnel on the bottom expecting every bit of information to fall through the eye dropper as loads and loads of information spills over falling to the floor and elsewhere.

You failed to admit and confess the quick set has created more problems than you can understand.

I do not have a staff.  I do not have hired help.

Then, I have bad food delivered.  Boom, boom, boom heart problems.  Then, heavy food created so that I cannot move or think.  Then, my skin is on fire.  Then, I have dirty underwear.  Then, I have hair falling out or growing in the wrong places.  Sun damage.  Dry skin problems, on and on, and on and on.

You go too fast.  You are missing out on all the details the Bluetooth steals from me.

Its like slamming someone’s head against a wall while the full force of your palm distorts the shape of my mouth and asking me to recite the Gettysburg address from memory.

Ugh!

Enough.

Honey, can I please have my vision back?

I don’t know if someone illegally entered my home while I was away and replaced my contacts with a different prescription or if my vision is getting that bad.

It is not a good sign to have to replace a vision prescription more than once a year.  I cannot see more than 10 feet or so in front of me.

So, I’m never supposed to work again?  How else do I get to work?

Enough!

Send the children and babies somewhere else they do not belong in the workplace.

 

My skin is burning up.

I am overheated.

Do you really want to know about the boil, or acne, or puss-filled germ that landed in my crotch region?

Disgusting.

The only relief I get is to apply water to my skin.

I have no idea why this happened since I still do not understand why I am not allowed freedom of choice.

Losing the light of day quickly, so I am unable to complete this in full at the moment.  However, nothing has gone unnoticed.

Last Flag Flying:

A man edited in the picture – a Unabomber in the making is what I said to myself.  Ask the Bluetooth babysitters that reside in my attic if you want to check.  A dangerous man.

There are puzzle pieces at play, but I must away.

There was pressure again for me to change my car as if my vehicle is the better part of me.

I will remind you of something I heard.

Why change something that didn’t need to be changed?

He is the pants around here.

 

I don’t know what it is.

I felt something a few hours ago like a warning.  A dangerous warning.

A danger stemming from attention.

It doesn’t feel like any I’ve seen before.

Just had to stop to say so.

I want a new job.

Do you have any idea how humiliating it is every day to walk through David’s married legs?

No, we can never be friends ever again.

Every day my life is filled with me trying to live apart to move on from memories of David and all I end up with is humiliation.

As I go to the beach to escape this house and find David in the water with his wife Courtney making a scene as they kiss in the water.  Humiliating me.

I go for a run because I am told I am not able to go running in my own neighborhood to find David in disguise showing me how much better looking his wife is in her exercise gear.  Humiliating me.

No, South Carolina.  I will never believe I was anything more than a job to you.  Regardless of what I think of you.  For you – I was nothing more than a job.  Go down on her.  You were working, and I was a job and nothing more.  Smile or not.  You guys are better liars than I ever could hope to be.

And, for the record, I do not like magicians.  It’s a brain thing.  So, no.  You can keep Edison.

I never loved him.  I never liked him.

How many years David do you think you can keep pretending?  Allowing me no other choice is not the same as love.

Humiliation.

All you have ever brought me – humiliation.

There is all this pressure to do with my blog.  Am I going to keep WordPress or am I going to change to a Winix?  Both are still the same.

Is there a way to reverse this Bluetooth and body button pushing?  Then, I am for it since I never wanted it to begin with.

Is there a way to stop the pressure calories?  I would never do such a thing to another human being.  Especially one I’ve known to have had weight problems before.

I will never love you again, David.  I will never of my own free will be your friend in any way again.

If I could have another job tomorrow – I would leave you so fast.

My brain is still in a bad way.

Actors think it is the same as being on stage.  It is not.

It is not the same.

It is not the same at all as being on stage with another actor when you enter my brain.

It is not the same.

They have lied.

All these years have taught me nothing more than I wish I had never met you.

I will never marry Edison of my own free will no matter how many years you deprive me of male companionship.

I never wanted his body to begin with.

I wanted to be fucked by a man.  It is not the same thing.

My every day is filled with humiliation.  Body shame and humiliation.

This is the cruelest thing a person could ever do to another human being.

And, my writing…I do not give away.  Not to any person.

My writing is in no way an agreement to give or share with another person, company, organization, or affiliate.

No, I will never love you.

We cannot be friends.

You failed to understand my gift to see into other people’s minds.

God, I miss hockey.

God, I miss baseball.

Men and beer, a pretzel, a few bites of hos food…

God, I miss men.

God, I miss men who actually like me, find me attractive, and don’t humiliate me.

Honey, can you get me some water?

As I have lobed off the top layer of skin on my left-hand ring finger, I realize perhaps it’s better to just lay in bed.

I will not apologize for taking the time I need.

I should never have been placed in a position where the location of my water bottle should have taken priority over my brain.

Over my brain.

I say again, nothing should have taken priority over my brain.  It has been proven my brain has been employed otherwise.

In no instance whatsoever should any person be able to lay claim to my body.  This is what I am dealing with trying to wash away and eradicate the trespass against my body.  Do you know how many locks I have changed trying to keep my home my own?!  I counted 15 since 2016, but that does not include the dozen or more I’ve thrown away since 2014, or returned.  Compounding the occurrence of April 24, 2018.

My life is run by the super-rich who cannot understand the devastation of losing five dollars.  That is a half an hour’s work to me, five dollars.  They have no idea the harm they do to me.

Let me share with you the night of April 24, 2018:

Mark Lowry, bright, happy, exuberant, easy to be around.  A happy child whose mother adored him.  It is not difficult to see why he has been placed in front of a television camera for so long.  I was having breakfast with him in my head.  Buttered wheat toast with thinly sliced nectarines (I think they are in season) with drizzled honey.  Scrambled egg whites.  Tomato juice with Spike (one of my favorite non-salt seasonings, and coffee.  I was talking to him about better food choices.  Nothing Earth shattering.  Just a way to clean up his head space a bit.  More real food less junk.  I was talking to him about one of the biggest problems I had within churches about the overeating as a way of self-medicating in disguise as being social, how this had an extension into a serious health problem I’ve seen and witnessed within the nursing profession.  When…

If your brain had barred walls, steel vaults to shut, massively thick impenetrable walls and doors to shut, I did.

Immediate shut-down.

Immediate shut-down.

All systems stop.

Shut-down.

It happens without me being able to see.  As if someone passed the headset to another person.  I was no longer talking to Mark Lowry.

The person who let me know their presence when I was trying to place an object into a box – it had the word Ninja on it – it was not fitting well.  I know my body.  I know what I am capable of.  I used my fist.

No.

No, immediately.

No.

No, this was not me.

Shut-down.

This was not me.  I was no longer on a secured channel.  I will not be held responsible for someone else’s actions as they tried to use my body.

Shut-down.

Have you ever had to protect yourself from an outside force within your own mind and brain?

Have you ever had to protect the world with your brain?

Shut-down.

The week that followed – shut-down.

And, the week ahead looks to be the same.  Because my employer, my handlers, my managers, my assistants have failed me time and time again when I have proven I can only work one way.

What happened in my brain was a serious threat and occurrence.  This was not a petty criminal, this was a man not photographed.

Immediate shut-down.

Now, it is a shame in that I am unable to share (brain-tired and broke) with you the great many puzzle pieces that took place in a matter of minutes on April 23, 2018.

Let me continue the night of April 24, 2018.  I was speaking with a youth pastor at Victory church in Lakeland.

Does he abuse children? 

No, I say.

Will he?

I have no idea where they are coming from with this because the line of questioning is so off base from him.

What I say to the youth pastor – because this is all too often what I see within the state of Florida, especially in Polk county – is a fire in the belly passion, excitement, over-flowing joy, bigger-than-life enthusiasm to motivate his congregation, so that fifty years from now he will be remembered in the lives of his youth and congregation.  Because he is that kind of man.

All too often what I see and have witnessed within Florida is this great good, old-boy system of don’t rock the boat.  Don’t do anything that would be greater than what is already in place.  Don’t be brighter than the sun.

But, what if you are brighter than the sun?

Shut-down.

Let me go back several years to when I first met David Wolfe.  Since, I am surrounded by people who have failed to acknowledge I have the ability to see other people’s mind.  No wonder your dating scam that you ran in this housing complex failed me so.

They failed me on eHarmony.

How could I possibly…?!  Horrible!  Whom am I actually talking to?!  No wonder there was no real conversation.  There never can nor will be in that manner.  I will write it.  Since the years of living like this so someone else can take credit for all my work will prove I am actually my own brain.

David Wolfe when I knew him in college was one of the saddest people I have ever met.  Sad.  Sad.  Sad.  So, sad.  Not grief.  Not sadness.  Sad.  He was so sad he was angry about it because he did not want to be sad.  He did not want to be sad.  Yet, there were all these years if not decades of sad.  Justifiable sad.  To me he used it like a shield or a mask this sad that made him angry.  I wanted to help him.  He had already made it plain to me I was unattractive to him.

I wanted to be close to him.  For me, between he and I, it was almost immediate – an attraction.  So, since he had also, almost immediately pointed out how much better looking another woman was, as this is a pattern for David that has not stopped.  Every other woman is more attractive to him than me, I wanted to help me, to not be so sad.

I imagine it is probably one of the reasons why David had so many girlfriends in college.  He wanted to find happiness.  Either that or he was not a good boyfriend, or lover, or capable of a relationship, and I never saw that in him.

In this huge blow-up fight between David and I in college over I have no idea what.  At the time I am sure I believed I was standing my ground.  David’s friend intervened to make David back off.  He was in such a rage.  He flew out of the room, and I wanted to follow him to make sure he was ok.

As angry as I was, the moment he left, a part of me went with him like a pull.

It’s a brain thing.

So, your dating experiment failed because you failed to understand a brain like mine could exist.

David and I were a friendship that was doomed to fail.  It is still true.  His brother is right.

People have been placed in power on the basis that I should love a man unconditionally who will never love me the same in return.

Why should I fall for that?

Because they believe me to be simple and stupid.

Now, let me remind everyone there is creative work in place and not – NOT – a literal translation.  This has been a lie and misperception.

The purpose for Fifty Shades of Grey was an inspiration or jumping off point to create characters from Benedict Cumberbatches’ Sherlock Holmes.  The scene of Freed at the end where Christian is playing with the little boy was taken from surveillance video of me playing with my friend’s children.  I was running and running and running around and around with them to make them laugh and giggle – This is the Victory church photograph puzzle piece.

It is something I learned to truly appreciate when taking care of my mother.  There is a certain kind of magic that happens between old people and young children.  The way they communicate with each other.  It is truly special.  I have said and written this more times than I can remember.

Let me remind everyone of certain facts since so much of my work has been taken credit by others.  I painted Mt. Hood in Grade school that the local frame shop chose over everyone else’s artwork in my class that they framed and hung on their store wall before returning it to me – Beard’s Frame Shoppe.  Mt. Hood can be seen from nearly every place you look in Gresham, Oregon.

It is my sketch of a dog I drew in art class in middle-school.  It is my sketch of an Eagle I did while attending a Bill Gothard Basic Youth Institute seminar.  I sketched a portrait of him too.  I draw and sketch as a way of focusing my attention on the very dull and dry topics.

Also, a bird made to look like a Native American chief – there is more to this story and puzzle pieces.  I spoke in this house, that I now understand was recorded, about a news television show, I think it was Diane Sawyer who did the piece about Native Americans.  I don’t remember the exact state only that a woman spoke about how happy she was when Subway was allowed to open on the Reservation as it was the only way she was able to get vegetables.  It was unheard of to me, to not be allowed vegetables because they were not allowed to grow food on their own land.  There was a young boy who spoke about wanting to become President of The United States.  The look on Diane Sawyer’s face as she knew this would most likely never happen.  Puzzle pieces.

Hyde Park.  At a Farmer’s Market kind of event I had lunch with Tom Hahn.  It was odd at best the whole event.  He placed me specifically, and I knew it then.  I spoke of Florida and its inability to work with the Film and Television industry.

When I was eighteen and aspiring, I had been a member of the FMPTA.  Florida Motion Picture and Television Association.  It was full of hacks, has-beens, and me.  True story, at one meeting I was approached by a 48 hours producer and the President and Founder of The Seabird Sanctuary to go out afterward and have a drink.  I was eighteen.  I was dressed in a white lace corset type top (it was the eighties) and a full length pale off-purple, pinkish cotton skirt.  And, yes, I had eighteen-year-old breasts.  I didn’t get my part in Amadeus which had no lines because I looked like a serving wench another corset outfit.  Yet, without missing a beat I said to these two men, you see that man over there?  That is my boyfriend, do you want him to come too?

There isn’t any reason I shouldn’t have wanted to go with these men because I wanted out of that relationship.  However, several years later it was reported that the same man of the Seabird Sanctuary had made some home-made movie on an island in the Gulf with women running around top-less.  Gross.

My point was to Tom there isn’t any reason why Florida isn’t competitive with other state such as California or Louisiana.  There isn’t any reason why Florida doesn’t offer more tax credits and other incentives to have more work for the Film and Television industry.  The economic benefit would be great.

I have often wondered who watched and was listening to my conversation with Tom Hahn, who I worked with at Disney, yet he never seemed to be who he said he was.  I have often wondered if Benedict Cumberbatch had not listened in on that conversation.

On an overcast Sunday he was driving along with someone on his creative team as he seems happily married to his work.  He has a nice relationship with those on his creative team.  How nice for him.  He spent several hours with me at work.

Actors usually are curiously observant and watchful.  They sit very far back in my brain.  It is something I remember from the time when I thought I would want to act.  It is something I recognized immediately in Hugo Weaving.  A kind of kindred spirit for the work in the performance.

I had nothing to give you that Sunday, Benedict Cumberbatch, since I no longer work for The Container Store.  It is no longer the same for me.

I think they want to know why I waited so long to write about this, yet for me it happens so fast it takes forever for me to go back.  Also, it is so obvious it is almost redundant to write in repeat or report.

I have hit a wall in my head, I must away.

Before I go.

A person is trying to corrupt my work, in an attempt to change the location of my car in my own garage because I wrote about right defeating darkness.  This is the most asinine thought process I can think of.

Let’s follow this logic for a moment:

Your Honor my client cannot be found guilty of these charges of rape, murder, and abuse.  Because his vehicle was parked to the right.

Did the crimes take place in the vehicle?

No.

But, his car was parked to the right, so he cannot be in the wrong.

Dumbest, most asinine thought process I’ve ever heard of.  Base an entire person’s life on the location and placement of their vehicle!

Bed.

Who do I get to go to for help?  How do I get to tell a doctor an extremely bad man entered my brain and caused an immediate shut-down?

This is not something I get paid for.

How do I ever get to have a job I can actually live off of all on my own?

Due to the events that took place on April 24, 2018 I have been unable to do anything else but recover my head by resting.

I am bed-ridden every minute I am not forced to work.

Not yet recovered from the event that created and caused an immediate shutdown and complete termination of thought.  As the week of work that followed showed.

Immediate shut-down.

My work has not and will not resume until I am well.

The choice of my water bottle should never have happened as I have proven for years my brain only works one way.  My brain will never work any other way.

Proven fact.

 

I want and need to wrap cotton batting around my head.

How can we break Cherith’s brain today?

This is what I endure every day.

You cannot see the damage that was done to me, to my head and brain last Tuesday.  However, as my blinds attest this is a slow recovery from the damage done last Tuesday.

As I was finally able to stop from the list of “chores” and “homework”, I am still hurting.

How would you be able to handle and manage if your every day life was filled with an unending procession of people with the intent to break your brain?

The best way I can describe it is this: I was in a decompression chamber, so I would not get the bends when someone cracked the glass allowing air to escape.

They created pressure within my brain, then watched and did nothing.

They are too rough on me.

It is not a matter of me being tough, strong, or firm.  They are too rough on me.  It is a brain after all not a car engine, not a piece a metal, not a storyline to recreate.  It is my brain.

I know events took place last Monday.  I am aware of all the persons and puzzle pieces painted that went into the events.  However, I am unwilling to half-ass the account.  As always.

When brain damage has been created it works throughout your whole body.  As all injuries are not a single occurrence.

Mind and body connection.

I need to say and write it again – I will never love him.

I will never love any of them.

I may have fucked them, but I will never love them – ever.

Each of them fucked up.  They cannot take it back.  They have never tried to apologize or make it better.

So, until I feel myself healthy, strong, and able – not sweating abnormally, no soggy crotch, I will not share how fast my brain works and paint the picture you cannot see.

It is a shame – you would be so amazed at how I see people.