Not In This Life

Considering it is people’s jobs to keep me employed.  Other people’s job to keep me employed, they do a terrible job at it.

In reality I only receive one day off.  Now, I would like to see anyone else do everything I do in a shift, then go sift and filter through everything, then write and complain about the orange liquor or cola that as me swollen, or the food that poisoned me, or the endless cleaning and washing, then tell the world how a neighbor kept my package from me for months, then have any creative thoughts left, let alone work through grief, terror, disgust, shame, body image disgust, and the humiliation of never being allowed to love a man that I want for the rest of my life.

Then, never have any time to unplug my brain, rest my mind and body, or live outside these walls.

Michael Wayne Brown can go suck his own.  I am uncertain why you chose to be so reckless, unsafe, unwise, and shameful in your presentation.  No competition.  Like no man would ever want me other than an abusive man who got off on smacking me around, hitting and kicking me.

Fuck you.

That’s what this house has done to me.  Made me believe that there are no available men for me whatsoever.  Every man is either gay or married?!  With no man whatsoever interested in me?!  That I would be interested in?!

Fuck you.

I was going to write about some dreamlife where I was living with a writer or journalist.  We live in France, I go to cooking school during the day to come home to him, cook for him, make love to him, and forgetting this house and this place, and everyone with it ever existed.

How we would go on extended weekend trips.  I would finally get to go on my trip to England, Italy, and Spain.  We would go to Portugal.  Ireland.  Here and there, we would make time for it.

I would have brought my cats with me.

I would be able to go to the market every day and be able to see and choose what was fresh, new, different, unusual, or exactly what I wanted.  Then, go home and create dishes I’d only imagined before.

How I would disturb him in the morning while he was reading by sitting on his lap, the arm of his chair, look into his eyes and he would want me again after having just had me.

How this man would actually in person, in the flesh, kiss me every day.  Kiss me like his last breath depended on it.  How he would grab me because he wanted me, wanted to consume me, wanted my sex.

How he never forced me.

How he never treated me like a child, or a baby, he valued my opinions, my mind, my brains, and he always wanted my body.

How when he held my face in his hands as he tasted my mouth, we are the only two people in the world.

But, I guess that only happens in the movies.

Thanks for teaching me that will never be possible in my life, not in this life anyway.

Fuck you.

 

 

Coffee and Breakfast: April 20, 2018 – Men Only

As I just finished the most disgusting breakfast, well…maybe not the most disgusting it is just not sitting well in my stomach, images and people are flooding in my mind.

A truck driver I saw at the same place I saw Tom Hanks as Wilson.  Those in charge of this housing complex, probably at the unnamed, unmarked, unsigned business at the front.  Who has a business then does not display a sign?  Had no idea that it worked both ways.  That this house constantly filming and recording me could be felt by me.  That the filming would cause a disruption in my brain.  Considering my surgery happened because of this house.  And, for no other reason.

When I first moved here, I was still a bit of a mess in my head.  Working through the years of isolation, the trauma, the hurt and pain, and the grief.  However, I did not need therapy or to be worked on while asleep.  I have proven more than once how very capable I am within my mind of working through things, working things out, and moving on.

They had no idea what they were doing when they placed implants within my body.

They had no idea the talents and gifts God had given me already.

They had no idea the electrical wavelengths and energy interfered with my brain and thinking.

Of course, I struggled, of course I wrote poorly sometimes, of course I posted random weirdness on the internet because it was not just the filming and recording of me that created an effect it was also the person behind the camera and helmet as well.

Cut to Panera 2014, I believe Jon Abrahams was using “Edison” to speak to me.

See, they had no idea I was able to see other people the way I do that I can see inside their brain.

I started to playfully, flirtatiously push “Edison” around.  Like a couple of kids at a playground.  Because I knew he, J.A. liked it.  He enjoys that kind of attention.  He enjoys that kind of a relationship.  Its attractive to him that kind of playing and attention.  Probably says something about his childhood and upbringing, but I am tired of psychologists pushing buttons to get a reaction and getting it wrong.

Anyway, I was responding to him and not to “Edison”.  I know the difference.

Yeah, I already got it – if you were wondering – I could not understand why this “woman” had so much padding on.  Because he is friends with the sick, yet happy teen-ager.

They use this a lot with me.  I don’t think they quite understand why they use the sick or special with me.  How could my heart not go out to the sick, the disabled, the special when it changes their brain and how their brain works?

They are using Russia incorrectly.

They are using Russia as a country which does not work the same.

Russia was one man.  Russia was one man who was trying to get something from me.  Russia did not get what he hoped for and wanted from me because Russia did not yet understand how exceptional I am.  Russia did not get what he wanted from me because Russia was Not A Problem.

Russia, this man, this one man, will never be a problem.  I heard, people change.  No, this man.  This Russian will never be a problem as long as he lives.  That is my assessment.

They are using Russia and this Russian incorrectly because they are more interested in creating problems than anything else.

They must be stopped.  They must be stopped at all costs.

Creating problems is not creative.

Creating problems IS A PROBLEM.

Let me go back to 2001, since people seem to be more interested in my journaling than actual writing.  I have real stories I could write about.  More than events that have taken place in my life.  Yeah, I also write poems.

2001, phone call.

Try and have a nice day.

He and I alone on the phone.

You saw a version of me last Saturday night when I am faced with certain persons.

When my brain a few days later pieced together the events, the voice, I was left with a dilemma of what to do next.  Call the police and report the incident?  After new reports of police, officials, agencies being overloaded and overworked by unwanted information?

True, I did not report it because of the news.

True, I did not report it for another reason, I already worked out – in a blink – what took place.

He called to make a reservation – knowing it could be recorded.

He used a credit card to make a reservation – rather than paying in cash at the hotel.

He would have had to have shown his identification upon check in.

There would have been a camera in the lobby of the hotel verifying the identity of him and his family checking in.

Their fingerprints would have been left behind in their hotel room.

My conclusion: He wanted to be caught.   He wanted to be arrested.  He wanted his family and himself detained, questioned, if not arrested.

Is every person a suspect based on their country, nationality, or ethnicity?

I would have needed more to go on.  Because it is possible that he wanted to be arrested for protection for himself and his family.

Being arrested does not make a person guilty.

Motivation.  Intention.

Think about that for a change.

I am tired of spelling it all out when it is so obvious.

There are bugs within the lightbulbs and lamps of my home.  I cannot do anything about them at this time.  Limited budget.

The lamp that has a bug within the base is heart-breaking.  I remember buying that lamp with my mother in her wheelchair at JC Penny.  Another memory you have taken from me, destroyed as if my memories are your property to destroy.

I am not going to go in the dark or leave my animals in darkness because someone illegally entered my home placing bugs, filming equipment, and cameras within my home.

Because there is no reason I should be here.

There is no reason I cannot have a job where I could live entirely on my own.

There is no reason my cats should have been taken.  I will never understand this.  I want them returned.

The Wolfe family is German including the Mensa, who is not the same man I met in college.

The reason these men so appealing to me has to do with the manliness.  Jesus Christ, you fucking starve me emotionally and physically for man meat, no wonder I’d fucking bone nearly every one of them.

If I could.

Good luck with that.  Because of this – everything.

Coffee and Breakfast

Men Only:

I have nothing for you.  I have no more desire.

Congratulate the legs who belong to another woman.  I find it disgusting and revolting anymore.

You should have aimed the sight at my temple instead of the white circle on my chest.

A romantic voice in the night, the travel-worn man are too late.

Look what that disgusting man did for entertainment.

Who do I get to go to for help with that? 

Who do I get to talk to about that?

Congratulations for my humiliation.

I hope it makes you feel like a man to humiliate a woman.

You Are Wrong

You have been wrong.

You have been more than wrong.

You forget my brain is more powerful and capable than your rules.

In your competition and scoreboard of wins and losses, you have created the destruction of history, civil rights, free-will, and the power of choice.

I do not see a black man wearing glasses, his bald head, his facial hair, or the color of his clothing.  I see a retired policeman, who has pain that he lives with nearly every day.

You have turned black men and women, different ethic backgrounds into bad people based on the color of their skin, the color of their clothing, the color of their hair.  Rather than based on their actions, harm they have done to others, or work they have done for others.

Congratulations Humiliation

I love you.

Sitting in the passenger side of his pick-up truck as he was dropping me off home late one night this is what I hear, I love you.

It’s too bad I was unaware then that is was possible to see inside another person’s brain.  How could I have known I had such an extraordinary gift?

What I saw when I heard, I love you.  I was standing with my back straight and tall with my head held dead center.  I was motionless, and my emotional pool was vacant.

He was bent over, almost cowering, looking up at me.

I knew I did not love this man.

We met while starring in Right Bed, Wrong Husband at Chief Charley’s Dinner Theater.

I knew I did not love him, however I believed at the time I was inexperienced with love.

I was not.

This is what happens when you fail to listen to yourself.

To thine own self be true. – Shakespeare

I believed the television, magazine lay outs, and happily-ever-after movies to be reality when they are nothing more than fiction.

Fairy tales are not the truth.

You think it’s going to send me into a writing fit of being wronged.  You know you are wrong, you are unrepentant.

No, I am not afraid of Michael Wayne Brown, for I would rather be dead than continue living like this.  That is hardly a victory for anyone.

It couldn’t possibly be difficult to find Michael Wayne Brown, I kept his information if I ever needed to use it.  Hopefully, you found him in the penal system, it is where he belongs.

I was seventeen when I met MWB.  If you’re looking for puzzle pieces that is why Bella Swan married at eighteen.  I would have married MWB when I was eighteen.

The first weekend I moved in with MWB, he took me to Fort DeSoto Park.  What school was he enrolled in then?  Film and television?  Editing?  Camera work?  I do not remember anymore.

Within 45 minutes of being at the park to have a party with his friends from school, MWB broke another man’s jaw with one punch.  He later pleaded No Contest.

One punch.

To me it had less to do with the man he hit and more to do with him showing me what he was capable of.

The whole time I was involved with MWB, he barely held a job, yet he always had the car.  So, I walked or took cabs.  I paid for nearly everything, he did not pay.

One taxi ride home the driver asked me when I was expecting because I was unaware I was pregnant.

Sitting on the floor of our home, the television was on, the lights were all on, I remember the color of the walls.  MWB sitting behind me holding me in his arms carrying on a conversation of baby names all to himself because what was playing in my mind were horrifying-terror filled scenes.  The one I remember most was, me with a pregnant belly and MWB throwing me down the stairs causing me harm and the death of my unborn.  Yet, there were many variations of abuse to me and my unborn baby.

This was a different time then, in the late eighties.  I did not believe that any police, agency, or persons could protect me from MWB.  Seems that still holds true.

I had an abortion.

Had I known I would never be able to have any children for the rest of my life, I would never have had an abortion.

MWB stalked me and tormented me for years.  He is a terrible man.  I guess that is why Tuesday was such a terrible night at work having to protect my own mind.

I had to file bankruptcy previously because MWB would open my mail, illegally spending money at strip clubs and elsewhere with credit cards in my name.

I remember when I first started back to college at HCC, turning off my car and scanning the horizon, the bushes, behind objects and things for MWB.  He was such a terror.  Then, I was afraid of him because I wanted to live.  I was afraid of dying.  But, there is no use pretending this life is worth living.  My death would mean nothing to anyone, so what’s the point.

The story they want me to write is the one I talked about in my head to the elder Phillips.

MWB and I were in Jamaica – I believe I paid for that trip.  Also, I told this story when I was trying to work in timeshare back in 2015 it lasted only a week.  It was their job to employ me, so I have no idea why they did not make exceptions for me.

It was their job to employ me.

Renting a motorcycle MWB and I went about Jamaica on our own.  I had been to the island a year before and still knew my way.  We brought freshly boiled lobsters back to our hotel room where MWB proceeded to make love to me into the night.

I am not interested in giving this man’s dick any more credit.

The point is he was still in love with his first wife, I believe he was using my body and making love to his first wife.

So, congratulations for humiliating me once again.

DKW knows no bounds when it comes to humiliating me.  It is his favorite pastime.

The story of my life, I am 46 years old and have yet to have a man actually fall in love with me, make love to me, and marry me for the rest of his life.

I was born to marry a man.

I was born to be loved by one man for the rest of my life.

Everything else is unimportant without the ability to love a man and be loved in return.

Congratulations on horrifying me, terrorizing me, manipulating me, humiliating me, shaming me, uglyfing me, and making me suicidal.

What a great man it takes to make a woman feel worthless.

Congratulations.

Marriage Proposal

The reason I saw an orange shirt on one knee to a woman in a pink shirt was to shame me into exercising, so that every man that looked at me naked – WITHOUT MY CONSENT OR PERMISSION – would not have to view me with any body fat, cellulite, varicose veins, or any other unsightly hideousness.

Also, it was meant for me to then watch the movie Fifty Shades Freed.  I am not interesting in watching that movie.

I am not interested in watching bondage, or S&M, I do not find it appropriate.

There is no such marriage proposal to any man.  It is all a con and a scheme.

I do not believe.

I know men.

There is no straight man who would propose to a woman that he does not touch, speak face to face to, or have a real relationship.

No, David, no.

No James, no.

Never should have been an Edison – EVER!

For all the money in the world I never want to know of David ever again.

The tire baby is also, a no.

Both your options have expired more than four years ago.

No.

Any man who tells me what underwear to wear can shove his own dick in his mouth and suck it.

Because you have not allowed me to have a choice on my own I am unable to change my opinion of you.

David Kahit Wolfe, you should have criminal charges filed against you for what you have done to me here.

James Franco/Edison, you should have criminal charges filed against you both for what you have done to me.

Clearly

Clearly, I am not special, or I would be employed elsewhere.

Clearly, I am not extraordinary, or I wouldn’t be living here.

Clearly, I am not pretty, or I would be allowed to have a real man who I want in my life.

Clearly I am ugly and fat, or I would have been allowed to date real men all these years instead of David’s fake men.

Clearly no one wants me to feel I am worth a man’s time, or they wouldn’t have robbed me of my body.