from 3 pages

2.22.10
So, I try once more to write, struggling to find the barest minimum of privacy. I spent all day looking for a typewriter/word processor/ancient computer that would have some ability to avoid the ever present spying and harassment that is my lot. I wish I could say success, but I can’t. I spent $37.00 on a very decent Gateway, but of course, they were able to slip in a virus disk, creating the hidden non-DOS partition before I even left the store. I knew that I couldn’t hold them off for long, but at least I have disabled any ability to quickly/immediately transfer data via network modem (it was an ancient dial-up modem, but somehow they were scripting and transferring data—at least until I removed the modem card, hehe).

The inside of this 11-year-old computer was in pristine shape. The seal had never been broken until I removed the cover and I couldn’t believe the cleanliness inside—after 11 years! The inside of my computers looks like dust bunny hell after a year or two. But clean is good. Whoever was the previous owner took really good care of this computer and it shows. So it should do the job I want it to—a non-Internet word processor with a minimum of fuss. It also has a FAT partition and a windows 98 operating system, so if they try to pull what they did with my laptop—mess with the operating system boot up, I should be able to reload the operating system myself.

I hope that it doesn’t go that far, even though it was enjoyable messing with the computer earlier today—more enjoyable than the act of writing itself. If I could choose a job, I think I would really like to be a computer tech—it’s challenging but rewarding to figure out and fix the hardware and software. But of course if I were to spend thousands of dollars getting certified, I still wouldn’t be able to get a job. I’d just be further in debt than I already am, with nothing to show for it. Maybe I could protect my computer security a little better—but really, who am I kidding—I am up against and victimized by unlimited resources, genius, and top secret technology. There is no use railing against it, though. After 15 years of the hell I have endured at the hands of christo-fascists and government nazis, I just look forward to a good day.

Today was a good day. Unlike the last few days, when I was on some kind of weird psychotropic medication that had me plotting my own death and yelling at my mother, today has been fairly decent. I woke up feeling like shit, as usual, but was able to push beyond it. Now I am tired to the point of wanting to doze off, but I am trying to get into the habit of writing, after years of being stymied by the CF-GN’s. So I am utilizing a trick that I read years ago—to do some free flow writing every day. It was Julie Cameron, I think, who said a writer should always write three pages in the morning —just rambling, free flowing stuff—just to get beyond the inhibitions and blockages. After being penalized so severely for writing about my love for Augusta, I internalized the realization that the CF-GN’s really wanted to force and brutalize into me—that my free expression would be penalized, that my feelings of love would be penalized, that any aspirations or choices of self-identity that I might dare to claim or pursue would be penalized. In time I just learned to shut down and censor all expression of any meaning.

What has changed? Well, nothing really. The CF-GN’s are still making my life hell. Even today, while I was shopping for the computer, one of the christo-morons who always shadow me (to control my every move and initiative—whether regarding love, sex, money, or job), tried to tell me, “go around the corner to a shop across from Circuit City on Cutler.” I wanted to tell her, “yeah, lady, I did that years ago, and the proprietor put a partition in the computer that completely fucked it up, so that the $200 or $300 I spent on the laptop was completely WASTED, RUINED, THROWN DOWN THE TOILET,” which has been the characteristic story of the last 15 years of my life.

What can I do? I can never regain those lost years. They are lost, gone, wasted in years of suffering, pain, and controlled, drugged and very real imprisonment. I don’t know if I ever will be free to live, work and love again. But I have learned that I can impact reality despite my misery and constraints, and that is what I have to do. If nothing else, I will shout at the top of my verbal lungs, that to be human is to be FREE, and self-determining.

Even the christo-morons who stalk me have no idea how close the entire world is to complete subjugation to spiritual totalitarianism, as opposed to the political totalitarianism from which they think they are protected by American citizenship. Such naivete! Americans are just more deluded than the rest of the world. I often remember the most scathing commentary that the modern monk, Thomas Merton, had for the American populace. He wrote, “America is a big, candied baby,” and I have to concur. A less poetical, more sociological analysis would state, “Americans are full of their own self-entitlement, all races, all classes, all genders and all ages. Even me, bruised from the school of hard knocks and rejection, thought that my freedom of choice, self-determination, and self-expression were guaranteed and protected. Little did I know that for the last 60+ years, a hidden, shadow cabal of well, christo-fascists and government nazis, were operating in the shadows, gaining power and stranglehold positioning until finally the trap was ready to be sprung. And baby, springing is around the corner.

I, more than anyone else know the inflammatory nature of words like “nazi” and “fascist,” but unfortunately, these are the most accurately descriptive of words. This is no exaggeration, but only a sad recognition that the malignant cancers that so many 20th century artists, writers, politicians, and soldiers of every level spent fighting with all their passion, strength, youthful vitality, and lives, has resurfaced with renewed vigor and invigorated immunity of stealth.