April 13, 2018
Yeah, I’m not stopping these posts because of a movie. Eyes rolling.
I still stand by this decision to be a men only read.
Let me mention this, my men only read has nothing to do with women or women chefs. It has everything to do with what happens to me that is beyond my control. I cannot for the sake of my own security include women or certain persons as I have been threatened, been retaliated against leaving me unable to report or tell anyone.
For a change, I got to read today. However, in nearly 10 hours of reading the news and otherwise, it is as if my brain, the delicate grey matter, is like a plant that someone simply snapped of a branch, a limb, a working organism. It is gone. Like coral dead or broken. There is nothing but deadness instead.
I am sick to death of anger and angry people being the fuel used to write a journalist’s cunt as propaganda for the word, art.
I am sick to death of anger as the only means of expression. It is a tired and worn out trick used to exploit women, women’s brains and intellect, a way to demean men and women in the process by creating false moments and sound bits that are baseless, untrue, unfounded, and erroneous. I am sick to death of angry people being the propaganda of the only measure for change, for truth, for freedom.
If you truly wanted to know the real truth – you would let me speak. You would be so amazed. You would never be the same again.
I am going to burst your bubble. My maroon shirt had nothing to do with a black woman wearing a similar color the day previous as mine had been washed clean restoring it to its real ethnicity and nationality.
The anger ends with me.
How Benedict Cumberbatch must be so tired and over the connection of Sherlock and me. Having worn t-shirts that read, I Am Sher-locked. Simply, because I thought it was so clever. How played out. I see myself as nothing more than a burden, an eye-sore, and a disturbance to his career. For I saw and felt the turtle glaring at me (2016), angry with me because he cares more for that car than my feelings or me. So, do not wonder why you were evicted from my game. It is my game, not yours. You should have been thankful I included you. Instead, you tried to kill me, break me, torture me, and ruin me. You should have thanked me.
Turtle (nothing to do with a movie) you made a gross mistake.
I must write about this because I have no other way of letting people and the world know what is going on. You created a personal situation, I must take it personally. It is not merely a business decision.
It is not the child that teaches the parent. You have fallen in my eyes. Worse still, both the turtle and Benedict Cumberbatch are paired. I feel nothing but their disgust for me. I feel their disgust.
I do not like my body. I have been working on that, however I am NOT ALLOWED my own course of action as EVERY product delivered to me brings me down, weighs upon me like a medicine ball furthering my own loathing for my body.
Worse still, I am unable to create the body I want. I am forced through the food (having to live off nothing but beer and potato chips because it is all I can afford) and limitations of my activities into a body size and shape of someone else’s mind and idea rather than my own.
The damage done by DKW cannot be undone. Good luck trying to correct that. Courtney was the last straw.
Mysteriously, the letter I wrote to Facebook on my computer asking to have my account permanently deleted is missing from my computer, hard drive, and files. I believe it was 2015 or the latest 2016 that I wrote to end all contact and delete my account.
The damage done, the harm, the hurt is beyond measure.
If you place me in contact with DKW against my wishes and beyond my control it will not go well. It will not be a good thing. It will not be a good conversation.
It cannot be describe this pain of having a God moment, having David’s name whispered to me in a hospital hallway only for him to call me delusional, place himself in front of me constantly, stalk me, keep me in jail, under lock and key, unable to ever be a part of the real world, have a real man and real man flesh in my life, to the creation of “Edison”, to even simple things like being able to create goals, find a second job since I am unable to manage on my own with this income, to find another job or career where I could live financially independent and on my own, it is a loss that is incalculable. Incalculable.
The connection once felt with DKW has long since been severed. I will never be able to describe the terribleness and pain that has become DKW.
I will NEVER believe those news reports as a single person’s true feelings. I am more sickened every day I read them.
It is not now, nor is it ever, nor can it ever be solely, entirely, or in any other way a matter of black and white.
Listen closely, listen carefully as I understand my boobs get in the way of your attention span.
In my mind, my heart it will never, nor can it ever be black and white. For there is more than one color of persons.
There is more than one color to a man, to a woman, to a child, to a person. In every family, in every relationship there are varying shades of color, of tone and texture, of hue, of crispness, of sound, of laughter.
I am getting on my soapbox for a moment.
If I were President, the networks and newspapers wouldn’t like it as they would have to censor me more than they would like, so as not to be fined by the FCC. However, there is an incredible flaw that no one seemed to notice when creating this on-going situation.
One cannot govern in isolation.
My brain is hurting, or I would go on. Here’s our dinner, my men.
Dinner: Chicken Enchiladas and julienned salad. Open wide. You gotta know by now that I am spicy, love jalapenos. I think it is possible to put jalapenos in coffee somehow and it would be delicious.
Chicken breasts (the most amount of white meat) with as much fat cut off as possible. Slow cooked in broth, then transferred into another pot/pan with enchilada sauce – homemade – slow-cooked until the meat just falls away. A combination of cream cheese, garlic, shallots, Jack cheese, with seasonings, chopped onions, herbs as a filling with the meat in the flour tortilla. Placed in the baking dish, cover with enchilada sauce, bake, adding more cheese until golden brown the last few minutes or so. Garnish with finely chopped cilantro and parsleys.
Julienne salad: red and green cabbage, iceberg lettuce, carrots, celery, various root vegetables, jalapenos super thin slices so as not too overpower with a yogurt cilantro dressing. It needs a cheese in there, I can’t think of one at the moment, garlic, jalapeno juice, and spices.
I need to interrupt for a moment as I have forgotten what a rutabaga tastes like. What a turnip tastes like. This pressure to change my driving route – again – is debilitating. I am trying to finish this, yet I want to crawl into bed pull the covers over my head and stay there for months.
Plate these two together, no corn or rice.
I was thinking of fresh, real, not canned watermelon juice with some fresh-squeezed lime, a dash of salt, lots of cubed ice and vodka. Perhaps a flavored vodka. Beer would be fine too. But, I need a glass of ice water as well.
BTW, yes dessert is ok when maintaining your weight.
Dessert: Needs to be something gooey and chocolatey. How about a chocolate chip cookie with hazelnuts, macadamia nuts, real vanilla baked in a thin baking dish rather than as a cookie. Vanilla ice cream – homemade – with homemade warmed chocolate sauce cut with Grand Marnier or Amaretto, poured over top so the ice cream melts just a bit, fresh, real whipped cream, chopped nuts or grated cinnamon or both, no cherry. Sound good? I think you’d try it anyway.
My brain hurts, or I would write more details.
As I am writing this I am thinking of how I am writing about food because I am unable to have an untainted pantry, untainted food supplies, untainted condiments, and money for the purchases. Otherwise, I would be writing about stories, and not just journal entries.
I haven’t forgotten you chicken soup.
No untainted soap, so I stink even after a shower. Time to shower again.
No one is allowed to see.
No copy cats allowed here.
How do I make my garage door secure?