Sing Me a Song and I'll Tell You a Story - Page Two

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» Persona non Grata Extraordinaire

Where I was a prisoner held captive at the mountaintop fortress of QAnon central headquarters .. where Hillary was drinking babies' blood on the regular with shady members of the deep state ..

.. who were plotting all manner of nefarious shit to overthrow Trump even as we slept.

The inmates were running the asylum there at QAnon central headquarters, let me tell you. And they made damn sure on a regular basis that you knew exactly who was in charge.

Where I had become persona non grata extraordinaire when the Judge died.

Actually, he wasn't even dead yet. They had merely made plans to take him to the place that you go from which you don't return. And already the shit was getting nasty.

The timing of these attacks sucked because I was grieving the loss myself. This is why I was in a weakened, vulnerable place.

» The Devil Waits Until You are in a Weakened, Vulnerable Place Before He Attacks

Scripture says, you know, that the devil waits until you are in a vulnerable place before he attacks. He loves to kick you when you're down.

The devil is not going to console you when you're in a bad place, no. He is not going to come and comfort you and tell you that everything will be okay.

They did not seem to be grieving anything. No. They actually seemed more Zen-like calm than I had ever seen them.

This was when they weren't being nasty to me and telling me that the sheriff was on his way over right now to come get me in his police car and take me away.

"Okay," I said. "I can be ready to go 10 minutes. Let me know when he arrives."

What kind of people kick out a tenant during the height of a deadly, once-a-century, global plague? A rent-paying tenant.

» I am Coming Up on Two Years Here

This is the time of year, you know, when I like to stop and remember the day I was delivered from the authority of darkness.

Where I give thanks for being rescued from a bad place .. and transferred to a much better place.

When I brushed my fingers along the walls, you can bet this gratitude was heartfelt.

This plays right into the #1 thing I am struck by, and left with, in hindsight .. when comparing and contrasting my old life there with my new life here.

Particularly because the two are so different. The one is nothing like the other. The different lifestyles involved.

» Appearances Can be Deceiving

And this is the difference between appearances and in my lived existential realities.

You must admit that live there in Fallbrook look very pretty. It appeared beautiful. And it was. But my existential reality as lived there was something very different.

Compare that the my life here. Right after I first arrived here, and gave thanks for my deliverance .. first thing I did was call cousin Patti.

I hadn't even move my shit it. It was still down in the lobby waiting for me to schlep it up. But I didn't care about that. Because I had what I wanted.

When Patti answered, I said, "I'm in. I got keys in hand, and the property manager just left to go make copies of the lease I just finished signing."

I looked around while she was telling me how proud of me she was for doing this impressive thing under adverse conditions.

» I have been in Jail Cells that were Bigger than This

This is where I said, "You know, I have been in jail cells that were bigger than this."

I said it without really thinking. I had been beyond exhausted for a few days by then. Moving is a lot of work, you know.

The lady who moved into this house .. she did not even move herself. I had to help her husband move all her shit. That move lasted a long time, too. It was a lot of work.

She could not deal with the physical demands of the move. Of her own move.That was too much work for her. I had to help do that for her.

Judge just dropped her off at the new place, where she was out of our way. But the fact remains that, after I did all that work to help move all her shit for her .. she still kicked me out.

» It's Easy Now to Look Back and Laugh at the QAnon-Inspired Insanity

We are talking complete psychotic meltdowns .. on a regular basis.

One time she was banging on my door and screaming because I was taking a shower after 10 pm. It's like a child that never grew up, and is stuck somewhere in the third grade.

I'm like, "Please stop banging on my door and screaming like a banshee. You need therapy. It's not my showers that are driving you nuts."

So many bizarro stories I could share.

She was the queen of anal retentives. She made Martha look chill. I felt sorry for her, but I didn't want to be around her.

She was just the most miserable person I ever knew. And I knew some miserable folks, let me tell you.

She was not satisfied until she made others around her just as miserable as she was. That's why nobody wanted to be around her.

Some months after i arrived, I received a few messages on my phone from her saying 'Call me.'

I did not return those calls. There was no reason given why they wanted me to call. There is no chance I would ever return such a call.

» Much to Admire

I should probably note here that there was also much I admired about this person. Given her particular set of circumstances.

Which can make these kinds of things so difficult to address with proper tact. These are many instructive lessons to be learned here.

It is much easier now .. given the time and distance. Even biggest things fade in your rearview mirror after a while.

This is called perspective. Your perspective on any given thing will naturally morph and adapt with the passage of time .. as you are able to see things more clearly and put them in proper perspective.

But when the toothy gators are munching on your ass, it is difficult to get any kind of perspective beyond, "Ouch." and "I need to get the fuck out of here."

» You Could Feel a Divine Serenity Radiate from that Room

This was the period where she was spending an hour or so every morning at daybreak in the room with the view of the valley. Which is a jaw-dropping view.

When folks came over for the first time, and they walked in and saw that view, their knees buckled.

She spent this time reading her bible and studying her weekly bible lesson.

You could feel a divine serenity radiate from that room. And you could actually see the effect is was having on her.

She was calmer, more relaxed, more settled, more at ease. And much more enjoyable to be around.

» Replaced by a Daily Dose of Alex Jones Ranting & Raving in the Dark Before Daybreak

Unfortunately this did not last long. No. This relatively brief period was followed by her rising well before daybreak, while it was still dark, and listening to Alex Jones.

That was where she went off the deep end. Welcome to Crazytown, USA. That was the beginning of the end.

And that lasted a long time, too. Compared to her scripture reading days.

She rose well before daybreak every morning to listen to Alex Jones rant and rave while it was still dark out. Hardwood floors keep no secrets, you know.

You could title this era » How to Lose a Little More of Your Soul Every Week with Alex Jones at QAnon Central HQ.

» With Indignation She Rejected My Attempts to Help and Told Me to Get Fucked

I was unable to help her. I certainly tried. But they do not want your help, no. It actually pisses them off.

They can't say that I didn't try. They can't say I didn't try to help.

They rejected my attempts to help. Rather strongly, I'd say.

They told me to go fuck myself. In not so many words.

» You Try Not to Hear the Natives Screaming Their Insanity Down at Crazytown, but You Can't Help It

Now these psychotic meltdowns were not normally directed at me. But you can't help but overhear yelling and screaming when you live in home with hardwood floors.

Hard as you might try to block it out, and deep as you might sink those earplugs .. you can still hear the natives getting rambunctious there in Crazytown.

Habakkuk said to Yahweh, you know, "Why do you make me see this nasty shit? Why are you making me see these crazy things where everything seems backwards?"

Being around crazy people affects you. And not in a good way. I talked to my therapist about this.

I learned a lot from him. A lot of good, useful stuff.

He was very validating. This was especially satisfying because I was living in a place where I was never validated. Rather I was depreciated .. on a regular basis.

It was no big secret. They told me as much. I have messages telling me how they are going to throw all my shit out on the road for the trash man to come get. Nice people.

Ah, the good ol' days. It's easy now to look back and laugh at the insanity. But when you are in the thick of it, it's never much fun.

» Such a Disparity Between Appearances and My Existential Experience

Anyway, this disparity between the appearances and my actual existential realities at the two places was such a dramatic difference.

When I said to Patti, "I have been in jail cells that were bigger than this," .. this was a genuine observation, which tickled my absurdist sense of humor.

Do I give a shit about the size of my new place? No. Not even a little.

I have lived on a submarine for a few years. I know how to live in tight quarters. I have much experience at it.

The Navy would stick 6 sailors in a birthing compartment this size. They would put three racks over here, and three more over there. Top. middle and bottom.

This is like a captain's stateroom to me. Even better, because I'm not underwater.

» There's a Meeting Going On Right Now to Decide What to Do with You

Speaking of the captain's stateroom .. remind me to tell you what the Chief said to me while we were standing outside maneuvering there in engineroom upper level.

He said, "Now you've really done it. There's a meeting going on right now up in the captain's stateroom .. to decide what to do with you. So just stand the fuck by."

I bet Moses knows what I'm talking about.

That was when the captain kicked me off the boat. And I had to go talk to the Commodore.

The Master Chief took me. The squadron Master Chief. That made all the difference.

When the Master Chief says you're golden, then the Commodore says you're golden. The Commodore told the Captain to go fuck himself.

I don't think I have ever said this before. But after they kicked me off the boat, and I am heading forward to get my shit and get the fuck out of there ..

.. I just so happened to run into the captain. He was near the part of the ship where they steer the boat. The sub.

He was surrounded by a few sailors.

I shouldn't have said anything. I should've just walked right on by and kept my mouth shut .. which is what I would do today.

But my ass is already gone. So I dixn't give much of a flying happy banana split about anything right about then.

I called him out. Right there in front of a group of people, I just walked up and called his ass out. His dumb ass.

Remind me to tell you the story of when the Squadron Master Chief came and rescued me of a life in a scullery, cleaning dirty dishes on a conveyor belt. That was where they sent me. Assholes.

I wonder what time it is right now. I'm-a go check real quick. Be right back.

Looks like it's afternoon already. My, how time flies when you're having fun.

Tonight we sleep our last night in the winter of 2023. When we lie down for bed tomorrow, it will be spring.

» Spring has Arrived

Oh, look. Spring has arrived.

I went for nice walk yesterday to celebrate the day.

March 21. There's another good date, girly. There's a big story behind that entry.

The indicated date is indeed the 21st, but I did not post that page on the 21st, no. I posted it on the 26th.

This is my last entry before leaving. And shit is going to get gnarly when I post it. Which it did.

I have stories about my writing being watched. They would never confront me directly. But they would react.

I have a number great reaction stories I could share regarding entries I wrote which produced strong reverberations in Crazytown.

Some of which involve you. Probably the best involves you.

I could also discuss censorship here, and why it sucks so badly. We inherently resist censorship.

But knowing that people are reading your writing .. crazy people with dysfunctional intentions .. this can affect your writing.

» Sometimes We Don't See the Obvious Things Right in Front of Us

During a quiet moment yesterday I caught myself thinking, "How could this girl possibly be connected to my ID card?"

A part of me was wondering while I was distracted with other trivial things.

Then I remembered when I wrote, "Girly, send a U-haul and a couple strong dudes to come rescue me from this tight spot I am in here."

Scripturally speaking, you know, the believer is not supposed to depend on (mere) men to rescue his ass from the tight spot in which he might find himself.

I know this. So there must be other reasons .. than a rescue operation involving two strong dudes and a small U-haul truck. And there was.

I did not have to write that entry. I was in a vulnerable place there.

Society and cultures can teach men that it is bad to reveal vulnerabilities.

But everybody feels vulnerable from time to time. It's part of being human. It comes with the deal. The deal called life.

Vulnerable spots present us with a challenging environment. You know how I enjoy a good challenge now-n-again. So I wrote it.

There is a big story behind that entry. So much insanity. You could never make up shit like this craziness.

But my point is that the ID card contains the address. The new address. My physical address. Where I live.

Though in this case, it is my mailing address. The PO box. But it still represents the same thing. Your digs. Where you grow roots. Your life roots.

I don't know how far I want to go down this path. But I think that this is the connection. For me.

The seemingly pronounced connection between you and my ID card.

Does this make any sense to you? It sounds crazy to me. I could go into much detail here. But my point is that this is where I see the synchronistic connection.

Essentially, I had previously said, "Girly, find me a new address, will ya?" 

But now I've had this new address for two years. Yet only recently has the relocation process felt complete .. with the new ID card.

» The Most Prominent Existential Point I am Left with from that Whole Period

Now that I am years beyond all that craziness .. the good, the bad, and the ugly .. the #1 thing I am left with .. the most prominent existential fact I am left with ..

.. is that I lived with a judge for a good number of years. The whole thing seemed to fall together on its own.

Now there are many things we could discuss about this fact. But regardless the surrounding dialogue, the core existential fact remains.

See, for the existentialist, existential facts speak for themselves. You have to learn how to listen.

People are often try to put their own spin on things .. in order to make themselves look better. This is human nature.

But the core existential facts remain .. no matter how much spin or distracting dialogue you might happen to apply.

What does this mean that I lived with a judge for a good number of years?

I don't know. I'm not sure. But I could surely speculate. Though not here. Not now.

I grieved his death. Certainly much more than I did for my own dad.

When my dad died, I felt nothing. I was surprised I felt nothing. This was probably because I lost nothing when he died.

He was my dad's age. He had kids who were my age.

I lived with a judge. I lived with a judge for a good number of years. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that seemed to fall together on its own.

And this was right at the same time I started to get involved with the family law part of the court. Coincidentally.

He was a witness to all the things that were going on in my life. He saw me as a parent. He saw the relationship I had with my son. He saw everything. He knew a lot about me.

Did I learned a lot about him, too? Of course. How could I not?

Judges render judgment. I mean, this is what they do. This is what they are paid to do. This is why they get the big bucks, right?

Scripture talks about the Judge of the living and the dead. This is probably all I should say on the topic right now.

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