My Men.

I am claiming these as my men.  These violent, dangerous, capable, cunning, and thinking men.  These men who I am more comfortable with every day.  Who, I would say I have never been uncomfortable with.  I have a treat for you.  A respite for the work you have all done.

I thought of this dinner for my men April 8, 2018.  Please forgive the delay.

Here’s the scene: I thought of a house/cabin/private resort/luxury home away from prying eyes, from loud and noisy neighbors, from cameras and recording equipment, where there is room to roam around the grounds, as well as, all the comforts of a solid home.  Picture it how you would enjoy it.  All I know is the only way I see myself anymore is far a way from this place and everyone I’ve ever known.

No starter for this dinner.  I want you to save room for dessert and as much drinking as you want to enjoy.  As I have to mention – once again until I moved here, having been drugged on numerous occasions (see the post, At the Hands of Women) I am well over the dialogue that has been spreading of a drinking problem.  Simply because I wrote in my blog that I did not drink when I wrote.  I have never in my life, before moving here ever, ever been a black out drinker.  They drugged me to make me black out.  Again, I have just never needed a chemical inducement to find my creative brain.  That’s all.

I have sausage on the brain.  Imagine that.

This woman just wants meat in her mouth.  Come on!  What’s wrong with that?!

Nothing.

I am grilling sausages.  All different meats, flavors, and varieties of bratwurst and sausages.  I am grilling them, so they get the nice all-over, juicy cook.  Creamed onions with fresh grated nutmeg, honey-glazed carrots, and sauerkraut with caraway seeds, potato slices and carrots.  The potato and carrots help to keep the acidity down in the sauerkraut while the carrots add a little sweetness.  No bread or buns for the sausages instead I am making fresh baked pretzels with kosher salt.  Not those frozen things you get in stores or at the mall, real pretzels.  Have you ever had them homemade before?  They are sooooo good.  I believe you will not stop at one.  You see why I am not giving you a starter?

Here is how I imagined it plated: Your dinner plate of sausage, creamed onions, carrots, sauerkraut, and pretzels, then to the side (your left side, your silverware is to your right – civilization) a tray platter of small dishes for all the mustards for which you can choose.  Mustard is a must for sausage.  White wine Dijon mustard, stone-ground mustard, port wine mustard, honey mustard, datil pepper mustard, and perhaps a port wine cheese dip too.

Beer.

Beer is a must with this.  So, I was also thinking of a sampling of beer also.  Line the beer samplings at the front or top of the plate.  Germans make great beers.  I’m thinking at least five samplings of beer from around the world.  A good, light, full of creamy head beer.  Maybe a Saison.  Porter is too heavy.  Craft beer that you cannot always get a grocer.  Something different from everyday because this is my treat to you.

Plenty of full-size glasses if you find a flavor you enjoy and want a specific one.

Just so you know, you did not have to wait for dinner to get a drink.  Plenty of whiskey to go with the dessert either on the rocks, with water, or neat.

Now, while we are eating, I would tell you some stories.  Such as the time I went to New Orleans on vacation in 2015 how I was asked/forced to purchase perfume/cologne – Elizabeth and James – for no other reason than a means to control how much money I would have to spend in New Orleans.  Leaving me unable to frequent or make purchases while on the trip or in Louisiana.

It is significant because it was a way of keeping monies within the state of Florida.  As well as, not allowing me to fund projects as I went on my way.

Also, I was not able to stay at my hotel of choice in New Orleans.  I wanted to stay at The Best Western in New Orleans.  I was made to stay at a hotel connected to The Hard Rock Café.  Just like I wanted to stay at a hotel in Key West that was across the street from The Hemingway House yet was made to stay at a hotel further away because the hotel I wanted to stay at was on Whitehead.  At the time I believed it had something to do with being able to get access to whatever was being filmed.  I believe that is completely untrue.

I should have been allowed to stay where ever I wanted to.

I would tell you of the second time I worked at Disney I was suddenly asked to listen to my new manager, John’s phone calls.  To the right of where he was sitting was a picture of a black baby covered in what looked like Vaseline.  It was horrifying.  Was it Vaseline?  What was it?  It was so disturbing.  I have no idea the point “John” was trying to create.  What it sounded like to me was “Casey” using a voice modifier to make her sound male.  Being forced to endure this charade.  Having to pretend.  It is disturbing because “Casey” should never have been allowed access to me.  Adrian Grenier should never have been allowed access to me.  I should never have been made or viewed as nothing more than an animal to be trained.  IT-IS-CRIMINAL-BEHAVIOR to allow such a thing to ever take place, to be used as entertainment while keeping me a slave.

How are you going to keep such a thing from ever happening to me or any person ever again?

I would ask of you, am I not able or allowed the same privileges and rights as every other citizen of these United States in that I am unable to use toilet paper, or toilet seat covers without risk of disease, punishment, cruelty, or pet problems.  Not allowed to place my water bottle wherever it will not fall without repercussion?  Am, I truly not allowed to safely sit on a toilet seat with protection, use toilet paper like every other person in the entire world?  Even inmates do not have to bring their own toilet paper with them.

I would tell that while watching Ready Player One as soon as the game started when they started collecting coin, I said, I don’t like rules in a game.  I would rather do than follow rules.  I don’t know why they place them in a movie.

I would share with you the time while in college that a boy who was a friend of Caroline’s asked me to go to the shooting range to which I immediately responded, no.  For the truth is, I was afraid I would be good at it.  It goes along with being able to flip a man over my back land him on the other side of me without hurting him, without thinking about it.  Because I knew I could.

A screenplay I wanted to write after my history professor spoke giving me an idea.  My history teacher, this tall lanky man who would put his foot on the desks of the students in front of him at such a severe degree it was like saying, here is my junk.  Behold.  It is the most unbelievable teacher behaviors I’ve witnessed.  It verged on comedy.  I am not sure which he thought was speaking his penis or his mouth.  Anyway, he spoke of female assassins.  How good they were.  How easy to disguise, for who would see a woman as a threat.  I immediately saw this scene play out of a woman walking down the street in the opposite direction from her hit, reach in quickly and subtlety killing instantly with very little movement.  At the time I thought I imagined the scene from which I could create a screenplay.  In my head, I immediately made the woman a bit more glamorous.  I believe now, that I saw in his head what he was recalling.  He was retelling a story told him.  I saw it.  Pre-Sept. 11, 2001

I would remind you of the news story that happened here in Florida where a baby was taken from the parents’ home – I think it was Valrico.  The parents had not shut the garage door.  Each believing the other had shut the garage door, and in the middle of the night – BTW, that woman tonight was some piece of work – someone had taken the baby.  I never believed this story.  Eventually, the parents moved backed to Boston due to neighbor’s harassment’s, media pressure, and so on.  When talking to people, I said well the police must be right if they believe the parents had something to do with the disappearance.  However, there were too many problems that never added up correctly.  I never believed the story at all.

Isn’t there anything to be done to stop this from happening.  To stop this from happening to any person ever again?!

Isn’t there something that can be done to stop such a sting operation from ever happening to another person ever again?!

Dessert: In a graham cracker crust packed with real butter, but not greasy just enough to keep it from being crumbly – Now, I haven’t made this one before I simply thought it up – a sliced apple mixture in a honey bourbon – yeah, hard liquor – glaze.  I was thinking in a simple syrup – homemade – honey bourbon, brown sugar, vanilla simmer that until it is gooey, then place apple slices in the mixture until the apples are fork tender.  Put the apple, honey bourbon glaze in the graham crust.  Sprinkle some coarse Kosher sugar for a little texture, some real whipped cream, not from a can, nope.  Then, fresh cinnamon and nutmeg grated over it.  As a garnish, perhaps some whole vanilla beans that have been charred with a torch, dipped in an egg white wash, then sugared.  I wonder if they would be good.

Eat.  Enjoy.

My men.

For men who were born men and did not just slap a beard on their face or dildo in their pants.

You made me 55 minutes late.

Go to hell.

DKW, JF, Edison, I will find you disgusting for as long as I live.

Disgusting.

Will never get over my rage in this isolation.  Never.

I cannot stand what you have done to my body and my belly.

You have miscalculated.

 

My decision stands this is a men only read.

Balls tired.

I am balls tired.

I thought of this breakfast last night, or if I am correct we thought of this breakfast last night.  You will have to take me out for this one since I do not know how and have not made these myself before.

Breakfast: A freshly made croissant sliced lengthwise through the middle, slightly toasted, served with real apricot preserves, and crispy bacon.  Coffee.  Lots of coffee, cream and sugar.

As I said, I am having a terrible time getting coffee that tastes any good.  Everything I get tastes one-note with no richness or depth.  It’s like watching Eyes Wide Shut with the one note playing over and over where pretty (not in reference to last night) soon you are no longer frightened or terrified.  Yuck, one-note coffee.

Yes, I know I started writing about this on my laptop back around June 2017.  I have too much to write about with too little time within which to do so, so that will have to wait for now.

What the fuck was that yesterday?!  Holy fucking hell!

I know people want words immediately when something takes place, however there is a process that only happens a certain way.  It takes time to process, filter, and sort through.  The closest comparison I can think of is an ambush.  What it felt like was being surrounded, knowing I was in danger, wanting to take my foot off the brake, slam on the gas, and get the hell out of there.  I was grateful for the set-up rain.

He is a very bright, intelligent young man behind the computer.

As the night went on – how easy it is for them.  How easy you have allowed them to have access.  Something very simple.  A process for which something like trash is released from secured possession.  They found a way to gain access.  Then, were able to use that information and apply it to other locations.  Something very small overlooked.  How ever meticulous you have been in your operation.  Something small.

Jesus, I am worried for my own safety and protection in writing this.

I hope that helps.  It’s the most I can write for now.

My decision stands for this to be a men only read as I realized when going back through my previous writings that I shared with my laptop how words are purposefully missing.  Words like – men.  I am a little more than fucking hot about this.  It feels like a sick joke.  Someone being able to be in control, be in charge who NEVER should have been allowed access.  Should never have been allowed access!

I have said and written this before, I am sick to death of writing this – I am not now nor have I ever been confused.  I am very straight-forward about who I am, the woman I am, what I like, my sexual orientation, how it will only ever be the beautiful, wonderful cock all my life and this will never change.  My eyes roll as I write this.

Blurry-eyed as I am trying to eat while writing to get this done.  I don’t know how this happens every single week.  Every week I am in a deficit.

I made another decision about seeing people.  I am no longer willing and able to view or watch films because of who I have seen.

I will write it again as in the past every time I make a decision an entire team, networks, and bullies spend their every waking moment allowing me no other alternative, but to choose opposite my already made decision.  I will no longer go to the movies, or watch a film, or show because of who I have seen.

To what end must this continue?  I have spent too many  years like this already.  I must have my life in order.  Who can live year after year without being able to have and create goals for themselves and for their own life?  I have been unable to have my own life in order.

I know they want me to “report” the error of my order with the substitution of one of my frozen meals.  God forbid I am ever allowed one order as I order it without any changes, or deletion – just as I order it.

Random voices in the night will have to wait for now.  No time.

Dinner will have to wait for now.  It is not simply that I have no time, I am unwilling now as I have been unwilling to write mediocre.  I am not willing to put out into the world something less than what I am able to do.

I have not forgotten, my men.  I am claiming them as my men.  Dinner will have to wait.  Sorry.

Over an hour to write this post.

July 1, 2017

To David Wolfe:

Originally sent, to Jeremy Renner:

Flip-flops,

I want creative control.  I believe it is about fucking time I received the right and ability to have creative control over this non-secret show experience!

I am still so angry, hurt, and depressed because of the violation of my home.

Regardless of the path I take there should be no one with the ability to enter my home.

I want the Sherlock-figure-it-out problems to cease immediately.  There is no excuse for purposefully infecting someone with a virus.  Especially after specifically stating it was never that person in body!!

Especially after going to all the work of password protecting my purchases – NO ALTERING!!!

I am so disgusted with everyone involved, everyone has become tainted in my view now.

IBK, healthy weight cat and dog food is a LIE!!!!!!

So hurt!

You have done a terrible job of protecting your investment.

Now, I am sick from the inside out.

Congratulations on destroying my trust and belief in you, in all of you.

This doesn’t make any sense.  I turn right out of my development and there is a bump sign, Twilight High school, and a black man with a moustache.  I turn left and there is a boy-man walking a dog.  To me they are each exactly the same.

In my head at work I hear, I didn’t know.  Then, a David-ish person walks by.  Whatever that is supposed to mean.  You all knew what was planted in my house, you all knew the harm that was going to come to me, and no one did anything to prevent it, or keep me from harm’s way.

A silverfish in my fucking wine?!

I don’t know how many years I have to scream NO!  At the top of my lungs.  No means no.  That fucking ceiling fan can go to hell!

I don’t have a choice as far as my parking.  I am not allowed to have the sun or anything else I want.  It has to be damp just to keep the stupid baby bull-shit away!

I do not need to be taught or shown anything else!  Enough already!  Isn’t there another story to be told, can’t we all move on?!  Why not just end everything?!  And give me back my life.  When, there is clearly no love lost between any of us.  You don’t hurt those you care about.

I never wanted the limelight to begin with.  I never wanted this life!  I never agreed or signed up for any of my life to be taken from me.  I shouldn’t have to scream at the top of my lungs constantly!  No means no!  I shouldn’t be tricked into doing something when I’ve already said over and over no BABIES, no 1,2 3, no Twilight series, no diapers, no to everything previous!!  No to all of it!  You can tell Art to go take a walk, I want nothing to do with him anymore.  Art knows the value of nothing!

I am not an actor, not a singer, not a writer, not a performer I am not any of those things anymore!  Because of all of this I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror.

Give me back my life, so I can move on with my life.

I am so pissed at being treated with such disrespect and ill-feeling for my humanity.

So, upset still!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cherith J Gjestland

Exhausted and stressed from driving yesterday I could barely function.  It wasn’t until I started doing research on Forks, WA that I started to feel more myself again, then I was able to function again.

I was just running some numbers for me to be able to live on my own paying for debt relief, rent, car, insurance, groceries, phone, and other bills I would need to earn $50,000 a year or more.  And, that is not living extravagantly by any means – that would be living on a tight budget.

In order for me to live where I am with the bills I currently have I would an annual salary of $25,000.  But, that would be not paying for all my bills myself.

I was thinking about that idea of $20,000 which is by no means a large amount of money annually it is not much higher than poverty level.

Daydreaming of being able to live on my own and being able to pay my bills myself.  How would I be able to support myself if I wrote for a living or for myself.

I don’t know how to make that happen.

Stuck day dreaming of that day.

“““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““

So tired of being in this impossible situation of hearing a faceless, nameless voice in my head.

Just realized that is the second Valentine’s Day where I stopped believing.  Valentine’s Day 2013 was brutal at The Blue Martini.  It may not have appeared so on the outside trying to over compensate for so many losses.  With a cast on my arm I was pretending to be whole – to be enough.

Valentine’s Day 2016 was a very difficult day.  Before the day was over I had already shutdown again.  I did not believe in anything before I went to work – driving there is like just trying to survive.  I’ve been on this I-don’t-understand-what-is-going-on ride for nearly two years.  I keep going to places I think I am supposed to go to that I’ve been told to go to only to be disappointed and met with sometimes truly horrible experiences.  So I chose not to follow because to say I am tired of it cannot possibly convey how I feel.  So what happens when I do not go out for lunch (because I cannot make it anywhere on my lunch break in time to be back to work) I come back from lunch to be yelled at and made to feel less than and stupid.

I’m so tired of this situation that I did not ask to be placed in.

I cannot even be a regular, normal, everyday person.

I feel like I am living inside a prison and I KNOW I am NOT a criminal.

David Wolfe:

August 9, 2017

Fucko Franco!!

You useless piece of a human being!!  Who the fuck do you think you are?!  Was that you standing behind me in front of a window at the Tampa Courthouse, saying I don’t know why they have us standing like we are in a line-up?

Who the FUCK do you think you are?!  What gives you the right to expose a private person like that when I was honest?!

Because of you, I no longer wish to seek acting, or singing, or writing, or anything of the sort.  I simply do not have a choice at the moment.  Given the opportunity, I would seclude myself somewhere where no one could harm me again the way you have hurt me.

Was that your brother Dave that I dated as “Gerry?”

I find you to be the most disgusting human being imaginable.

I will never seek or chose you of my own free will ever again!

There are not enough expletives in the world to scream in your face!!  I never want to see you, know you, or have anything to do with you!!

You are the most deceitful and dishonest person I know!!

Stay the fuck away from me!!!!!

Leave me alone for good!  What a terrible life you have forced me to live!

I wish I had the energy to scream for an eternity so you would never stop hearing me scream in your ears!!

You stupid fuck Franco!!!!!!!

Cherith J Gjestland

August 18, 2017

David Wolfe

Please let me go.

Allow me to move on with my life as everyone has.  Allow me to meet men I like and find sexually attractive.

Let me go.

And, stay away from me.

 

Cherith J Gjestland

August 25, 2017

To whoever is responsible, I have no choice, David Wolfe:

The Doubts of Life

“Cherith hates her mother and made what people wants then She just MADE!! She’s a G______ German guard on to HITLER or Stalin! To her be being!”

These are some of the things my mother would write from time to time after her last stroke.  Sometimes she wrote them because of something I did.  Sometimes they would come completely out of the blue.  However, most of the time, everything she wrote was the opposite.

She wrote because she lost the ability to speak in sentences after her last stroke.  She could speak.  She could speak words.  But, she also lost the ability to hear speech, or process speech.

At the time, she wrote this one, I am sure like all the others, I put it aside as something that she was having to go through and not a real personal reflection on how she truly felt.  Sometimes we say things out of anger, hurt, frustration, or pain that are not really true.  At the end of all days, what would we really say about how we felt about those we loved or things we care about – that is truly the truth.  What we believe the most – the real truth.

The first time she started writing, I was not completely aware of what was going on.  We had company.  My mother worked with exchange students, we had two adult women staying with us.  They were sisters of a Spanish tour escort that had worked with my mother years previously when she was well.  My mother did a good job of hiding her strokes, and her poor health to her friends, employers, co-workers, and her husband who simply couldn’t understand.  I was the only one with the privilege of trying to fix the damage done from the stress people placed on her.  It used to make me so angry.  She just loved people and wanted to be happy.  No one had any idea until it was too late how poor her health was.

I had come home from work and all my father said to me was, your mother’s having one of her episodes.  My father is completely ill-equipped for thoughtful emotion at least when his family is concerned.  It was as if she just needed to have a button sewn back on her jacket.  She had locked herself in her room, a habit she did often.  When I got in her room that night I had no idea what was wrong.  She looked fine.  She could walk and move.  I tried talking to her with no response.  My mother went to a pen and paper and starting writing nonsense.

“Two girls now tonight,” is what she eventually wrote.  She kept pointing to it.  She kept motioning to it.  I don’t understand.  What do you want?  I don’t understand that doesn’t make sense I kept saying back.  Eventually I said out loud, two girls now tonight.  Which she seemed to understand and it seemed to satisfy her that she wanted me to say it out loud.

You see, my mother had been having mini-strokes for many years.  Some much worse than others, but she always recovered.  At least, that is what I thought then.

Two girls now tonight.  I think she might have been worried about taking care of the visitors.  You see, she was sitting at the dining table talking to them when she had a stroke.  She had a stroke in front of people.  They didn’t understand what it was or what to do.  They didn’t understand they should have called 911.  My mother went to her room and shut the door.

After leaving my mother’s room that night, I told my father they needed to leave.  It was more than my mother could take care of and I was working, my father was working it was not a time for visitors.

The following morning their brother the former tour escort picked them up as he was living locally.  I will not forget as I walked them to his car how upset he was.  He told me, I am sure it had nothing to do with them.  And, he asked for them to stay.  Who does that?!  Of course, I said no.  I think I didn’t say anything.  I think I just walked away from the car.  Some anger is too great for words.

I wasn’t always quite sure how to take care of my mother.  I had to respect her wishes while she had all her capacity.  The day the Sheriff came to our home to serve papers for diminished capacity which is what happens when you place someone in a nursing home from your own home and not the hospital, I was grateful he was kind and understanding.  Perhaps he already knew, a person doesn’t become a caregiver for the money.  It is a terrible thing for a child to see the loss of dignity in their parent.  Which is one of the great crimes of illness, disease, and poor health – the lack of dignity.  Sickness is cruel, calloused, and unfeeling it knows only destruction.

There was a time I took my mother to the dermatologists, she had previous skin cancers removed and there were a few concerns.  She must have practiced in her head.  She must have practiced guessing how and what the dermatologist was going to say, and when.  I never had to help, interpret, or write anything.  When the dermatologist left the office, I was so proud of my mother.  A few things were removed they were not a big deal.  The dermatologist had no idea my mother couldn’t hear her.  It was like she was my old mother again before her strokes.  Perhaps, I shouldn’t have been proud.

With each stroke, there was a loss of self of herself.  Physical ability would return, I could see her brain working again, yet it would come and go as if it – it, stroke – had a right to take over, to live, and be.

If I had my life to live over, would I?  What would I change if anything?  I used to believe that I would do everything exactly the same.  But, now I am not so sure.

Looking back, I would have changed my course when I was still seventeen.  I had met the man who would soon ask me to marry him.  Visiting some family friends in California, I had the opportunity to stay with them, get my GED, and go to community college there.  Unfortunately for me I didn’t quite realize everything that was going on at the time.  I should have stayed there, then.  My world would be so different, and most importantly of all, I wouldn’t be where I am currently.

If I had stayed I would have finished college so much sooner in life.  I would never have gone to college in Florida.  I would never have worked in Florida.  I would not be living here.  I would have actually married, I am sure.  I am guessing I would have been married before my thirties.  Because I used to be such an easy woman to love.  I wouldn’t be here like this middle-aged, all alone, without the possibility of any hope any longer.

If I had stayed I would never have met David Wolfe.  If I had stayed I would never have met James Franco.  If I had stayed my mother would still be alive and divorced from her husband, and they both would be remarried and happy.

If I had stayed I would never been engaged to that man who because of his actions left something I can never get rid of no matter how many pictures I burn, shred, or throw away.

If I had to do it all over again – I don’t know the answer anymore.

Today, I would.

Cherith J Gjestland

Desperate Dream

David Wolfe,                                        since I and we are not speaking:

 

There has been a terrible mistake.

It seems somehow that are records are not quite accurate. You have been given incorrect information.

It appears that your cats had been rescued.  The cats are being returned to you the original owner.

We are sorry for any confusion this may have caused you.

We are sorry for the time you have lost spent away from them.

Your cats will be returned to you immediately.

Thank you.

 

Cherith J Gjestland