Rachel from north London: Last year I killed a man

Rachel from north London: Last year I killed a man . In this post Ms. North links to an article in The Guardian written by a train driver whose train had 'on a perfectly normal summer's day' mown down a man who had stepped onto the tracks and calmly waited for death.  Last year a friend of mine took a large overdose of her prescribed medication and lay down to die.  Someone found her and she was taken to hospital.  On the way there one of the paramedics told her, 'You did not really intend to die.  If you had you would have thrown yourself from a building or jumped in front of  a train'.  Damned if you do, equally damned if you don't.  Perhaps someone should send this compassionate paramedic a copy of the linked article.

In case you're wondering where I have been, I am now sovereign of this kingdom.

What Are They Doing?

In times of increasing uncertainty, people cling to false dichotomies. 

You are eating.  A plateful of crisp lettuce and ripe red baby tomatoes.  You look away briefly. When you look back your once appetizing meal is covered in beetles.  They have made it their home.  You scream and cover your eyes.  Your mother comes over.  'Look, Mummy, look, there are insects crawling all over my food.'

She looks at your plate.  'There's nothing there, 'rie.  You must eat it. The doctor says...'

You run to your room and slam the door.  You are safe.  You look down.  Your carpet is covered in a seething mass of black beetles. You scream.  An hour later you are in the back of a doctor's car on the way to the acute ward.  And your skin is crawling with black insects. And you know that this is no escape.

Still the Same Old, Same Old...

Tories.

Dave's words of wisdom:

We talk about people being "at risk of obesity" instead of talking about people who eat too much and take too little exercise. We talk about people being at risk of poverty, or social exclusion: it's as if these things - obesity, alcohol abuse, drug addiction - are purely external events like a plague or bad weather. "Of course, circumstances - where you are born, your neighbourhood, your school, and the choices your parents make - have a huge impact. But social problems are often the consequence of the choices that people make.

Speaking of being at risk of obesity, has anyone noticed that 'Dave' himself is looking a tad, well, portly, recently. Look at those pink, chubby cheeks. He's not exactly the Tory answer to Kate Moss now, is he? I might write to him with a few tips on how to shed that extra weight.

And in other news: Apparently, Dave no 2 (Mini Me 0r David Davis) cost the taxpayer £80,000 with his little gesture. I wonder if the Mail on Sunday will be bitchin' about that. We might get a line or two from the gorgeous Peter Hitchens, who is right on the money, by the way, when he comments on how easily fooled these people are. I guess if you stand for nothing you fall for everything.

And tell me Dave, what action are you going to take against 'fat' (aka: devoid of self discipline) members of your own party:

(I is furry scared.  Imaginary kitties, ghostly felines, blurred lines, landmines.  Tired but afraid to sleep.  Need a kitty to cuddle but GhostCat might chase real cats away.  They shall have their revenge)

Some Man/woman/child/cat/dog/hamster/

Squirrel called McSlappy (or similar) keeps bothering me. So, here's something to be getting on with...Kiss, Kiss, Kissy! And here are some song lyrics you may be interested in:

(Sinead O'Connor)

Margareth Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her

I've said this before now
You said I was childish and you'll say it now
"Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you"

England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving

Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was "please"

These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
"Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you"

England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving.

Courtesy of these people

********************************

HE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES
(Sinead O'Connor)

It seems like years since you held the baby
While I wrecked the bedroom
You said it was dangerous after Sunday
And I knew you loved me
He thinks I just became famous
And that's what messed me up
But he's wrong
How could I possibly know what I want
When I was only twenty-one?

And there's millions of people
To offer advice and say how I should be
But they're twisted
And they will never be any influence on me
But you will always be
You will always be
If I treated you mean
I really didn't mean to
But you know how it is
And how a pregnancy can change you

I see plenty of clothes that I like
But I won't go anywhere nice for a while
All I want to do is just sit here
And write it all down and rest for a while
I can't bear to be in another city
One where you are not
I would return to nothing without you
If I'm your girlfriend or not

Maybe I was mean
But I really don't think so
You asked if I'm scared
And I said so
Everyone can see what's going on
They laugh `cause they know they're untouchable
Not because what I said was wrong
Whatever it may bring
I will live by my own policies
I will sleep with a clear conscience
I will sleep in peace
Maybe it sounds mean
But I really don't think so
You asked for the truth and I told you
Through their own words
They will be exposed
They've got a severe case of
The emperor's new clothes
The emperor's new clothes
The emperor's new clothes

Courtesy of these people

]*******************************

'You Cause as Much Sorrow'

I'm full of good intentions
Like I never was before
It's too late for prevention
But I don't think it's too late for the cure
So you call in your minions
And see what you can find
Night time or morning
These hands are sticky but I don't mind
Why must you always be around?
Why can't you just leave it be?
It's done nothing so far but destroy my life
You cause as much sorrow dead
As you did when you were alive
I never said I was tough
That was everyone else
So you're a fool to attack me
For the image that you built yourself
Just sounds more vicious
Than I actually mean
I really am soft
Yes, I'm tender and sweet
Why must you always be around?
Why can't you just leave it be?
You've done nothing so far but destroy my life
You cause as much sorrow dead
As you did when you were alive
Why must you always ask me?
Why can't you just leave me be?
You've done nothing so far but destroy my life
You cause as much sorrow dead
As you did when you were alive

Courtesy of these people.

*************************

THREE DAYS GRACE LYRICS



"Just Like You"

I could be mean
I could be angry
You know I could be just like you

I could be fake
I could be stupid
You know I could be just like you

You thought you were standing beside me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you
You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

I could be cold
I could be ruthless
You know I could be just like you

I could be weak
I could be senseless
You know I could be just like you

You thought you were standing beside me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you
You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

On my own, cause I can’t take liven with you
I’m alone, so I won’t turn out like you
Want me to

You thought you were standing beside me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you
You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you

I could be mean
I could be angry
You know I could be just like you

Courtesy of these people

Oh, and Miss McSlappy, you asked where the Three Billy Goats Gruff were. Well, Billy Goats Gruff these days aren't the same as they were when you were a lass. They could be anywhere, doing anything. Oh, I despair, I really do.

Addendum: And what really, really, really pissed me off about all this, Ms. McSlappy, is that I didn't even get a glimpse of your beautiful face. I'm bi-curious* and I bet the mere sight of you would have had me packing my bags and setting sail to the Island of Lesbos in an instant.

*I'm not really.  I am only teasing.

Time

All night she lay awake, her skin tingling, her legs restless. She was trapped in an uncontrollable, inescapable fear.Immobilised by anxiety. She found herself dreading the inevitable arrival of the dawn. She envisaged herself pushing, pushing, pushing against a moving wall of daylight, trying to hold it back. But day after day the harsh sunlight invaded her room and the little red clock on her bedside table shrieked at her mercilessly. She hated marking time. She hated the way instruments that were designed to do exactly that were scattered across every surface in her room. Clocks, watches, timetables dominated her life. Even in here: her only refuge. And the bedside clock, the little daemon that heralded the coming of the dawn was the worst of them all. An evil despot. The king of all clocks. Time is the greatest dictator of all.

Remember...

Jenny Black.  Never heard of her?  I didn't think you had.  We couldn't help her so we didn't even try.  Women with personality disorders are far more likely to be the victims of violent attacks than the perpetrators and lack of media attention is a symptom of how, in this so-called 'civilised' society, some people matter and others don't.

No More

Cancelled visit to Blue Cross.  Dreamt about Bella.  No other cat can replace her.  A is cross.  Two hours before I can visit Nobby.  256 messages in inbox for self help group I have never turned to for help - from the past two days.

Some Excellent News

A new addition to the internet.  Nobby is to be connected.  His family in the US are buying him a laptop and he is to get an account with Virgin next week.  I am to be his tutor.  I'll show him ome of the more weird and wonderful sites.  Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

Going to the Blue Cross on Saturday.  To see all the kitties.  Hope to find a successor to Bella (who will never, of course, be forgotten.).

Unbe-freaking-lievable....

From some old git who calls himself Allove:
(And I now know who he is. His views on other things seem reasonable enough. I am at a loss to know why he feels so strongly about this issue. It's all very strange. Maybe he has a touch of the 'White Knight Syndrome'. Actually 'he' isn't a 'he' at all. It's...wait for it, drumroll etcetera...Mrs Doyle - Father Ted's housekeeper. Of course, Father Ted is no longer with us but she still has Father Dougal to take care of. What's she doing faffing about on the internet when she should be looking after him? Gwan gwan gwan, get back to Craggy Island. There will be a spin-off series soon in which Mrs Doyle leaves Craggy Island, gets stalked, sets up a revenge blog and becomes a Mac Geek.)

Based on her comments, I should say this young woman is a deeply lonely and bored person.

(No. I am a young (ish) woman who expected more, much more from 'decent', 'educated', 'reasonable' people. I expected people who *claimed* to be superior to actually *be* superior. More sophisticated, kinder, gentler. I clearly expected more than you could give. I won't be making that mistake again.)

Based on her comments I bet she plays the "I've got a mental illness" card when challanged about her behaviour at any level.

(Do you play the 'I'm a Moronic Fuckwit' card at every opportunity? Well, you should.)

Another symptom of the "I'm a victim society"

Personally I prefer the "I'm a survivor society"

(Personally, I prefer the 'Shut the Feck Up and Get on With It Society'. And how are we (you, me and the other sad morons on the Spoof Blog) survivors? Have we been in combat? Survivors - how pretentious is that?)

Can I just add the disclaimer that this observation of this anon comments personality is based on comments only and cannot be carried on as an inference as to the sum of anyone's 'real life' character.

(Can I just say that the above sentence makes no sense? I'm sure there should be an apostrophe or two in there somewhere and maybe even a question mark. Punctuation exists for a reason. Now, kindly F.O.A.D.)



Edited By Siteowner
allove | 07.03.08 - 1:39 pm | #

And based on your comments I'd say you are a first class hypocrite.

Tell me, are the people who call themselves 'victims' of Ms. Lowde symptoms part of what you call a 'victim society''? They also call themselves 'victims' of 'abuse'. (Maybe they should visit a few survivors of child abuse websites and then they'll see what real 'abuse' is. Y'know like sexual and physical abuse.) I don't recall anyone saying that they are a survivor of Ms. Lowde's actions. Why one rule for one group of people and another for another group of people? Ms. Lowde's main victim even uses the word 'victim' in the summary of her website. (Addendum: Which she is perfectly entitled to do. If there is a perpetrator then there is a victim.) Is she a part of what you call 'the victim society''? Or maybe you're 'projecting' .

Why are you holding me to a higher standard of behaviour than you hold Ms. Lowde's 'victims' to? The inconsistency of your position is really quite funny. Unless, of course, you're expecting only what you think people are capable of.

Funnily enough I've never heard Nobby (a veteran of WWII) call himself a victim of anything. Of course, in the strange, little, screwed up world inhabited by the group of people Mr/Mrs/Miss/Ms/Lord/Lady Allove is a member of, Ms. Lowde is capable of inflicting far more damage than the Nazis ever could.

That's brave. Ask someone a question and then ban them from your site. Now, that's what I call an 'avoidance' technique. That's what I would call avoiding accountability for your behaviour on every level. Could use an anonymizer, could use a proxy server but I really can't be bothered. Maybe later. Bystander apathy is not my style.

The reactions to Mr. (whatever his status is) Allove remind me a little of what a 'macfanatic' friend of mine told me about a visit to Macworld recently. He told me that everything Steve Jobs said in his keynote address was greeted with a round of applause. 'He could have said 'the sky is blue' and he would have been praised for uttering such a profound insight and been given a standing ovation.'

A message to a certain new visitor: How did you make your way here then? It certainly wasn't via my link on that spoof blog you frequent because there isn't one. Could you pass on a message to the poster who calls himself 'Chortling Coati' who seems to believe that 'fresh air' is a cure for schizophrenia? In words you can understand: 'You is a bit fick, innit?'

Oh and remember this: 'Resentment is a little like taking poison and hoping your enemy will die'. It's also corrosive and can be fatal.

Ciao Sweeties. It's been fun.

Apparently...

...my 'surfing habits' are being scrutinised. And they are not those of a 'normal' person.  Hey, no shit, Sherlock!  I'm not sure what these people think that proves but I'll tell them what it does prove. It's quite simple: the meds I take fuck up my concentration. I do most things in 15 minute spurts, including browsing the web. A few pages here, a few pages there.  If you have a problem with this then feel free to say so. I could send you samples of the meds I take and you could take them for a couple of weeks and we'll see if your reaction is any different. It won't be. Here, some research. Here, have some more.  The cure for ignorance is the acquisition of knowledge.  Try it some time.  Yes, I know, I'm probably shouting into an abyss.

I must learn never to underestimate the capacity of some people for willful ignorance.  I must also remember to never expect the conduct of those who claim to be superior to actually be superior even though that seems to me to be a perfectly logical assumption  to make.

Now, I'm off to see a war veteran about some interesting stories.

A final PS: A special 'Hello' to Dogbreath and Slapper McSquirrel (a middle aged woman who thinks that all references to middle aged women are about her.  Now, that's not egocentric in the least, is it?  She also believes that mental illnesses are 'self created dramas'.  I knew she was a Mail On Sunday reader.  Well, she seems to fit the profile: fingernail deep and as thick as clotted cream.)

Fragmenting

My mother telephoned to say my aunt has cancer.  Something happened.  A few years ago.  A sorry, sordid little tale.  But she doesn't deserve that.  No one does.  Everything is fragmenting around me.  Even Nobby is fading away.  Enjoy what you can while you can.  Apologies for the incoherence.

I gave this poem to Nobby just after our beautiful neighbour Jo died:

And death shall have no dominion



And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

Grace the Cat

My friend Andrew who works at The Blue Cross alerted me to this story.  He said 'people suck' and he's right.  That is why I sometimes get more distressed by harm inflicted on animals than I do when I hear about harm inflicted on people.  I knew someone in hospital who was a vet who treated abused horses.  She felt exactly the same way because eventually people are able to express and deal with the emotional consequences of abuse in therapy.  Animals can't do that.

A couple of years before Bella the Cat's death Nobby and I found a kitten, terrified and shivering outside his flat.  I picked him up and held him while Nobby called Andrew.  He was taken to the Blue Cross.  Later the vet who examined him said his injuries were consistent with a fall.  They suspected, but could not prove, that he had been thrown from one of the flats. Andrew asked me if Bella 'would like a little brother'.  But Bella was a bully cat and did not get along terribly well with other members of her species* so I had to refuse. They found him a home eventually.

Some chick called 'dog ree' (or maybe it was 'dog breath'.  I can't be bothered to go back and check.) called me 'catty' on a rather unpleasant blog.  Given that one of the definitions of 'catty' is 'Catlike' 'Stealthy' I'll take that as a compliment. Oh, and the person who called me that is a mangey old dog.**

(Ouch, think I touched a nerve there.)

Lost a bunch of weight recently.  Still more rotund than I would like to be though.

*we had so much in common.

**I offer the most profound apologies to dogs.

Currently listening to

The machine guns are roaring
The puppets heave rocks
The fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks
Call me any name you like
I will never deny it
Farewell Angelina
The sky is erupting
I must go where it's quiet.


Farewell Angelina, Joan Baez

And this is how it begins.  They push you away and then they build walls around themselves. Anything to stop the deluge, the rising tide, the rot.  I am so afraid.

Bella's ghost has departed.

Come and Have a Go...

I wonder if the Mail on Sunday includes self harm in their list of self inflicted illnesses that are unworthy of treatment or charity. My arms are erupting. And what about EDs? Do they come into that category too. I said they wouldn't print my post and I was correct. They did, however, print this: 'Wimps should be told to stop acting like little children, grow up and get to work or no money.'- Tony Calladine, UK, 29/6/2008 8:24. Social Darwinism. Charming. What next? Eugenics? Hartheim?

And this: 'It's time to stop the rot! The Benefits system needs a complete overhaul so that the British taxpayer doesn't have to support what has become a lifetstyle of choice for some. They are giving genuine claimants a bad name!'- Sue G, Perth, Australia, 29/6/2008 3:13. And you're giving Mail On Sunday readers a bad name. No, wait, they've already got one.

Oh, and a message to certain rather unpleasant and vindictive people who may be reading this and are considering using this information against me, go right ahead. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough. Here's a clue: you're not. I can't bring myself to care. I feel detached. From everything. I wonder how far they'll go. I wonder how hard they'll push. Watch this space. Dissociation has its advantages.  As does not being able to keep food down.  Yeah, I know, grrrrrrross!

Je Ne Regrette Rien

I don't know why I chose to pin
My colours to your mast
For this was a war I could not win
A river in which I could not swim
Your reputation is destroyed
The dogs of vengeance are deployed
The newspapers snoop and vultures swoop
Picking over your remains, saying,
'Go on defend her if you must
But be assured we'll grind you into dust'
Yet I did not elect to join the winning side
I did not elect to be swept away by the tide
But still I was sucked in and swallowed whole
I dutifully played my allotted role

They say you hated her
I disagree. I saw you
Foraging for affection
On the day of my defection
You did not ask for much
But she was far too delicate to touch
As incorruptible
As a wedding dress
As pure as an ivory rose
With bright, white petals
Defying the darkness
But she was so hard to impress
Enmeshed in the webbing
Of purity, of perennial insecurity

She is somehow seductive
Gentle, subdued and soft-hued
She was the stone wall you clung to
Like creeping ivy and wandering
Through the wilderness you needed to be close
To the stillness at the centre of the whirlwind
She has never sinned
Ambivalence made no sense
And this was the consequence
The two of you are dissected, then polarised
And you are transformed in their eyes
Reduced to the status of saint and sinner
One spoilt, the other serene
One corpulent, the other lean

You are despised, she is idolised
You are sour as curdled cream
She epitomises youth and truth
A sycophant's wet dream
She is so easy to adore
This is all that remains
A drowned world
A planet aflame
Much has been lost,
And little has been gained
But I do not regret a thing and if I had to
I would do it all again because even the devil,
Yes, even the devil
Deserves an advocate