First time well enough to leave home in over 5 days

So much going on, but I have spent nearly all day fighting brain stem strangulation. Cabt
Think. Mind not able to move. Wish I could die, escpe this pain and misery.

March 11, 2010

As can be ascertained by the above, I am seriously drugged again. No energy. No ability to think. Just going through the motions. But no emotions—just as flat and depressed and “don’t give a fock” as I can be. At the worst, I am severely autistic, unable to integrate and interact with reality. Can’t stand the stimuli pouring in—have to shut it out. Wish I could just sleep, and let this hell that is my life disappear. There is a lot going on, but I am too sick to even begin to penetrate it, much less write about it. Maybe that is the whole point of being drugged. They just want an empty mind they can fill with Sananda or any of their other stupid ass Gnostic lies. So who is responsible—the Nazis (pisced because I do everything I can to thwart them), or the Christo-fascists (but then that breaks down into the Ratzinger faction—which I suspect of being aligned with the Nazi/clearly malevolent Jesuit faction, and the rigid, repressively pharasaical Opus/Dei/insidiously malevolent Jesuit faction). If I were healthy I could explain the difference between the two, but I cannot hold a thought in my head. It is a good thing I don’t feel an urgent call of danger because to work things through, I have to be able to think, I have to be able to hold ideas in my head. Not happening. Empty, dead blank. And the goddmaned morons keep drugging me and looking at me, like they expect me to levitate, roll my eyes heavenward, and lift my hand in some kind of pietistic blessing that only people who honor a dead spirituality, not a live one, can long for (watch the Youtube vido of Pius XII’s faked “mystical experience, or Ratzinger’s recent address to the walking dead, habited religious).” They can’t handle a living spirituality. That is why I am drugged, and why their forebears murdered Christ, and prophets of every tradition. Nothing more frightneing than someone alive, free, in living relationship with God, and utterly condemning of the legalistic, patriarchal, sex and life-hating system that is institutional religion. Even tho’ I cant think, I need to read, need to do somehting besides watch tv. Going tobe a long nite.

March 13,

Another day from hell, unimaginable suffering, longing for death suffring and prayer. Alll focked up on psychotropics. Feels like dry migraine, but whi.ee not pain in head, painful suffering in body makes up for it. Every muscle hurts back shoulders knees quads. Kneecaps cant walk. Too much fluid. Too sick to drive. Going to try to go to yoga tomorrow but if I am in kind of mpain im in now, wont happen. No way I can drive twelve miles. Belly is ice cold. Only part of me that seems to work is fantasy. Wish I could fantasize im not in pain.
I have to somehow write. I suspect my suffering is direct result of opus dei and or the goddamned patriarchal pig jesuits. Once again try ing to get me to convret or enter interdimensional realms. Stupid focking basterds don’t have the slightest idea how matters of spiritu work. All they know is how to coerce and disrespect body, and espercially the female body. As ssoon as head clears I have to start writing against these godammed pieces of sheet who have spent a dozen years creating pain and destroying my

body to meet their pathetic, misogynistic agenda. Cant do it tonite. Body hurts so bad, cant type. But I will youu pigs, I promise you I am your sworn enemy, just as you are sworn enemy of humanity and the Holy Spirit. God help me sleep when I am so fokced up.

March 14,

I’m wondering if I am being force-fed risperdol once again. As with risperdol, I am walking around as if I have a brain tumor strangling my brain stem. Nobody can imagine how sick and badly I truly feel. I can barely function, physically, mentally or emotionally. I guess it is a good thing that the world is in a temporary lull because if the goddamned christofascist pigs had started feeding me risperdol two weeks ago, our skies would now be torched and darkened beyond repair. So God, I’ve done something good for humankind. NOW LET ME DIE. FREE ME OF THIS PSHCYTROPIC HELL. I AM TIRED OF CONSTANT, NEVER ENDING PAIN AND SUFFERING. As long as I live, I need to try to write against these christofascists, but I am too sick to be capable of rational, logical thought. All I can do is live in mental world of images. Well I have to put it down. The world has to know the kind of fascism that the Inquisiton is laying down. But not right now. Too sick. Im trying to read but am too sick to digest. I know because im in middle of book on enoch, and the mind could move, think, make connections earlier, now my mind is totally dead cannot think at all. I don’t even take notes. Doesn’t matter. Too sick to goddamn care. I know what I think just to sick to write or exprss it. Body hurts so bad but will try to do yoga. Don’t know how I cn drive for thirty minutes hurts to keep eyes open.

March fifteen, very close to death. I cant wait. After very agonizing day of pain and suffering, I am in some kind of shocky cocoon. Don’t feel much thou I know pain is still ther. Im reminded of lil girl I saw, victim of abuse who died with swollen brain after repeated beating. No doubt my brain is severely swollen and brain stem strangled. Brain shutting down. Cant move, cant respond to hearing. Cant see. Hurts to open eyes. But have made one resoultion. If god should intervene prevent my death, all my life is going to focus on fighting christo fascists. VERY IMPORTANT. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PAIN AND AGONY I SUFFER AT THE HANDS OF THE CHRISTOFASCISTS DRUGGING AND THE PRE=CHILE EARTHQUAKE EMP PSYCHOTRONIC WEAPONS . OBViously the politicians have got the nazis in check but christofascists still running hog wild and killing me. I am glad. I am tired of suffring. Just wish to die. Save me from having to do it myself. Take it off my conscienc.e such agony, such pain, poor lil gir.. I have screamed, yelled, cursed, broke off all relations, begged for help but the XXXXing fascist opus dei, jesut, sli types don’t hear or see anything outside their tiny lil box.

March 16

Pulled back from brink of death, but my poor, tortured, traumatized body is wrecked. Every part of me hurts. My back is so severely curved from muscle spasms that I can’t lay down on my back on the floor. My eyes (both of them—not just the one that didn’t get surgical intervention) are pressured with dangerous amounts of fluid (I can tell my how dark my vision is). I can’t even do a child’s pose in yoga. Both my arms and legs are heavy—and feel like dead, unresponsive limbs. Body can’t even stretch out. My head still feels so heavy like a bowling bowl, while I feel feverish and zoned out. My house mirrors my body—totally trashed, as I have been too sick to even wash out the dishes I eat from. Fortunately, I had food already cooked and lots of microwave dinners, but it still is overwhelming to look at my house. I am still too sick to take any action, but I must. I haven’t even left my house in four days. Four days not only lost, wasted, stolen from my tortured body and raped psyche, but four days of sheer, living hell that I don’t even know how I endure or why I survive. My body cannot take this torture any longer. The implants are pure poison to my body—that is why every system and organ in my body—from my metabolism and weight issues, to my muscle spasms and ketoacidosis, to my eyes to my joints and fluid-filled brain, head and neck, all react so negatively. The sad thing is, I don’t need them. Like the mystics of other ages and cultures, I am quite capable of interdimensional interaction without them, for I am naturally in touch with (or I used to be, before years of pain, abuse, and yes the implants, separated me) the elements of the brain necessary for that transport. I am naturally, overwhelmingly, right brain (as I suspect most autistics are). I have to work at being logical, verbal, and this-world, time-space, oriented. The implants just flake me out, and make me hyperactive or undermine my ability to function in this temporal-spatial world (which has been my natural weakness my entire life but which I overcame through years of education, effort and self-discipline). It is like giving me LSD to experience “God” or my unconscious. I don’t need it. I am quite capable of a mystical experience of God or exploring the depths of my unconscious quite naturally, and even better than most, because I am not fooled by an ersatz experience, like drug users are. But I do it of my own free will, not through coercion. Like Enoch, I will only do it by walking with God. I won’t do it through manipulation and coercion. So go ahead assholes, and force your psychotronic XXXX on me. I have already made up my mind. I will slit my wrists before I let myself be manipulated or coerced by demonic spirits. But I don’t think I need to go that far. I think your machinations will kill me first.

…I beg God for death. Pleease God , kill me. No one can begin to imagine the drug-induced psychosis I am in, and how I long for death or , if I could see their weasely, opus dei faces, murder. So very very sick. My body is disgusting to loos at, so filled with fluid that is is full of stretch marks and infection pockets everywhere. Looking at the implant mutilations and my whale fat just makes me sick to my stomach, eps since I am too sick to do any exercise at all. Wanted to get out and do laundry , but it was so hard to move at all—putting on clothes, socks and shoes seems like monumental challenges—that I just couldn’t do it. Overwhelmed at the thought of fall lil things I have to do, get dressed, gt laundry in car, get soap, put everything in purse. Too much. I am not in reality, and cannot handle evn the simplest of chores. I knew I had to let go when God himself told me that I was too drugged to drive. God tells me to hold on, but how can I function this way. I am swinging between mood swings of pure rage to genuine suicidal ideation to just sleeping, slept all morning, but the worst of it is not being in my body, not being in reality. I want so much to end it all, but even getting into position to end it all takes an energy and initiative that I don’t have…
8:15 pm—sicker than I thought. No wonder why God told me not to drive. 4 hours later, I tried driving residential streets at 20-30 miles an hour, suffering from severe motion sickness of migraines. (Just reminded me, ive got mezacline somewheree). Keyword SEVERE. As in I was not sure if I was moving or the parked cars were moving, and freaked out at cars and bicycles in motion. Woud have been very bad if I tried to drive four miles with lights and multiple lanes. Left because I had to get water and wascraving my fave migraine food—carls jr. santa fe chicken and sprite. I think it’s the capsicum. In addition to the green chile, I pile it high with jalapeno salsa and banana peppers. Normally, my mouth wouldn’t be able to take that level of heat but when I have migraine my taste buds are dead and it feels good to have a roaring fire in my innards. At least some part of me is alive. But not much. I am sicker than I even thought. Has been four days in the house and I thought maybe I just needed to get out and about. But no, im very sick and very shaky. My legs and arms are as rubbery and shaky as if I have just finished a 14 our hike in the mts. Eyes cannot open to get the stimuli, worst part esp for driving is the severe motion sickeness. Even when I watch tv I cant watch anything in motion.
Too sick to read, which sucks because my book on Enoch is due now, and I have to return it witout reading whole thing. But I have read enough to know---know lots of things but too sick to write them down. Just resolve to be my like my lord, Jesus, and would rather die than capitulate to the sick warped “whitewashed sepulchres” that are responsible for my suffering. You pigs and pricks of the first order. You knbow nothing of faith or spirituality, but you know a lot about the occult and extraterrestials with whom you make deals and alliances. Well, I wont serve you or your agenda. And sick as I am, as much as I suffer, the more I resolve. XXXX you and XXXX the horse you rode in on. I may suffer at your hands, but in a way that is good. I write this all down so that there is a record when history goes to figure out how you could alienate someone like myself who is easygoing and forgiving. Well you have. Buit don’t let that change your agenda. Fry my mind, destroy my body, make me psychotic because guess what motherXXXXers, that is the only satisfaction you will ever see of me. I despise you and everything you stand for, and I have made resolve as soon as I am healthy enough to write and research I am going to throw every ounce of energy and learning and productivity against you. If and when the Lord wills it. In the meantime, I fight against satan’s spawn, opus dei and the jesuits and sli, with nothing but a resolved spirit in a very sick and weak body. Go to hell pigs.

March 17

I’ve awakened in something approximating a right mind for the first time in over five days. Still not healthy, and my weight gain over the last five days is very disturbing to me, but there is nothing I can do about it. My back muscles are severely spasmed and curved so that my glute muscles have to do all the work every time I lift a foot, and those muscles insist on their pound of flesh—literally. I’m not very happy as I reread my notes. I realize as I did before, these Jesuit pigs and slave traders are changing my words almost as soon as I write them down!!!! I guess this time around, they are not going to wait centuries before they begin the redacting, editing, and deleting process. It is clear to me now, how much the words and actions of, including, but not limited to, Enoch, Jesus, Paul, and indeed the entire scriptural legacy, both canonical and non-canonical, has been manipulated, edited, misunderstood and twisted to serve a warped and very small vision of reality. This is the very small, warped reality now presided over by higher elements in the Jesuit and Opus Dei orders, into which they desperately try to cram my free, large spirit, in the hopes that they can continue their dominance in an unnatural, unspiritual, and enslaved institutional Church. As a matter of fact, I suspect that some evil, power-hungry Jesuit or Opus Dei bigwig is hoping to somehow steal my writing (and make the necessary redactions) so that he can use it, along together with his alliance with alien extraterrestials, to thrust himself into greater dominance in this heretical model of spirituality. The Vatican is dead! Let’s have 2000 more years of spiritual totalitarianism—find someone of true spirit whose words and inspirations we suck out of her after crucifying her with torture and psychotropic drugs!
Such is my reality—knowing that every move and word of mine is monitored, and subject to immediate alteration so that these dead-souled slavers can continue to live out and institute their warped “imagination of their hearts.” (Oh, by the way, what was altered, several things—but mostly I used the word coercion, not conversion in the preceding entry—twice!! Reread it).