sat 13 sept 08
J. was here, but then he left with the wicked witch of the west. J. was acting a little like he thought i might not see him. i am, after all, deaf, dumb, blind, stupid and delusional. fuck you, j. and w.w. i don't want your protection. i've been saying that to most protectors i encountered on my early walk today: stay away from me. i don't want your protection. the bullet from the bad guys, nasty and wrong as it is, has a mercy that the big law kids never gave me. they have torn me apart piece by piece, and i'm sure i've said that before.
the guy in love appeared again. i'd really like to know what is so unclear about the words STAY AWAY FROM ME. is it because i'm autistic that i don't grasp the foggy, nebulous nature of those words? his ego is perhaps so enormous that he thinks those words aren't serious. but i've known a good number of men like that, who think women don't mean what they say. well, i mean it. you will no doubt die of old age before i ever have discourse with you again.
the classism and sexism behind this decision to take my whole life away from me and dangle me on a hook -- this illegal thing, to use me as bait without my informed consent. fascism. fascism. that word more than any other probably sums up what the big law kids have done to me, and because of the nazis, who were by no means the only fascists to ever appear on the world scene, the word has an extra tinge of evil and brutality that it did NOT have before WWII. and if you don't think that psychological brutality is just as painful as the physical variety, think again. i would rather have been murdered in march than to have lived the last six months of struggle, grief, loneliness, humiliation, deprivation, and iron-fisted control. i would rather have been dead and buried long ago.
by the time the fascists got their hands on me, i had already had nearly 11 years of practically non-stop trauma and hardship. i've talked about THAT before, too, the hell years. but that mattered not one whit to the FBI. here was someone poor and powerless with no one to object to the brutality, the juiciest worm for organized crime that the law kids have had in a dog's age, and so the brutality went forward. i had ptsd ALREADY. i disliked neurotypicals ALREADY. i had depression and anxiety ALREADY. how much worse do you think these conditions were made by the torture of the law kids? how much worse do you think my autism is now than it was six months ago? a lot worse. all of it, much, much worse. and now i despise, mistrust, fear every single human face i see. even my so-called friends, who have, all TWO of them, both been as coopted by the law kids as my doctors and social workers, etc. i saw both of my friends yesterday, as it happens, and approached them both in a new way: fear, anger, resentment. that's what was going on inside me the entire time. congratulations, law brats. you who find me so unacceptable in my autistic state have made me more autistic than ever. maybe now i'm more unacceptable than ever? maybe now i can be disposed of, taken off the hook? maybe you could shoot me yourselves and end my wormhood, and my misery? or would even THAT, to shoot me yourselves, be too merciful a thing for your fascism to manage?
love is not words.
no moment is coming where brutality can be undone.
they killed me on march 12 already, when they took the animals away. the bullet is anticlimax.
i love them, the stolen ones, as big as the sky and as big as the sea and as bright as all the light that ever was.
i hate them, the bad guys and the "good" guys and all the ones who were coopted, as big as the sky and as big as the sea and as dark as all the darkness of the universe.
love is not words.
i WAS a human being. i HAD human rights, and civil rights, and tenant rights. i WAS a private, reclusive, artsty-fartsy bookworm who valued animal souls above human ones. i was weird. but i of course had, past tense, the right to be weird. all of that was taken. all, all, all.
i never finished putting up the poems for the animals, and now those poems are in a garage somewhere. i could write new ones. i don't know. the things i have to say now about what my own government has done to me are so black, so ugly, that it almost seems too great a contrast to try to put poems of love and decency and respect near all the FBI crap. maybe i'll change my mind about that at some point, i don't know.
