Power of Rude, The

Lately I keep seeing tons of posts calling for civility and how there is never a reason not to be polite.

I am a non violent person, except in extreme circumstances. I believe in love and charity.

But I also believe in the power of rude.

The world has changed. Yes, it used to be a place where honey caught more flies than vinegar, but who the fuck wants to catch flies? I live in a city with more sociopaths and psychopaths per capita than just about anywhere else. (Source: 1)

A manipulator uses the social contract, the desire to be seen as “nice” against you. Fuck being “nice”. I had someone literally call me “selfish” and “Satan” for NOT BUYING THEM A PACK OF CIGARETTES with my own money. (Like, really, she went from zero to Prince of Darkness in under twenty minutes and it was so ludicrous I am still laughing about this months later.) I ended up saying something like “Out out demon! Better cast me out yo house” and I strolled out the door laughing.

I had someone tell me because I am femme, it was rude to “dance suggestively” and “not [do something sexual]” because it turned them on and somehow I was obligated to fix this for them. My behavior was “rude” and “teasing” and I did it “on purpose” or some bullshit.

Fuck that. I like to dance. Your dick is not my problem.

I get a lot of catcalls. I respond rudely quite often. Because sometimes if I dont, guys will follow me, and sometimes they can get dangerous. The way for me to be safest is for me to be rude AF to everyone. Over time, I have learned the best responses are:

If you tell me to smile, I am going to say “Im neither your slave nor your dog, dont tell me what to fucking do!”

If they ask to be friends, I say “sure! Can you loan me $20 until payday?” And when they stutter and haw i say “dont friends loan each other money? My friends would.” And hold my hand out.

In some neighborhoods, a wusup is polite to a wusup.

In other neighborhoods, it isnt polite to talk to ppl you dont know, and the best response is to not respond. If you arent sure, and someone says “hey” just look briefly at them, nod, and keep walking. This is a mediocre response (just enough to not be seen as stuck up in a ”wusup” neighborhood, bc the eye contact means you acknowledged them, but in a neighborhood where a creeper should not have said anything, you have already dismissed him before he could latch.)

If the person turns to try and get your attn, you need a quick assessment, IS HE HIGH? Not drunk, HIGH. Weed is decrim here, and stoners wanna chat ramble with everyone. If his eyes are bloodshot, he has a permagrin, or smells like skunk, he’s just high. (I say he but they could also be a she, etc.) Make sure you have a little body space and well, it’s up to you how you wanna handle this.

Treat other drugs and sober people with rudeness. Note that if they seem hyper, for any reason, you may want to call for help if it is available. LOOK AT THE HANDS AND THE EYES.
DILATED PUPILS, PANTING, RAPID BLINKING EYES, OR ANY WEIRD RAPID HAND MOVEMENTS (especially fast clenching and unclenching) ARE SIGNS YOU MAY BE IN DANGER, AND IT DOESNT MATTER IF THE PERSON IS HIGH OR PSYCHOTIC, the end result is they maybe are gearing up to do some mayhem. (Yeah, adhd and autism can also do this, heck, I do this, but without professional training I cant teach you to tell the difference in an online post. My apologizes to fellow neurodivergent people out there.) Those last two are important, if they are breathing heavy and clenching/unclenching fists, they either just had a fight-like situation or are about to start one. And they will usually TELL YOU if they just came from some drama, like people do. So if you see someone doing this, and they were not just coming from some horrible situation, and say they are fine etc., YOU or someone NEAR you are about to BE the situation.

Always pick rude if it means your safety.



I happily tell people “none of your business” and all “that is an inappropriate question.“ I have to say this a lot to Uber/Lyft drivers trying to make conversation. 99% of them are harmless when they say things like “are you going home?” The worst is “do you live alone?” I will tell them, “you should never ask that question to a female traveling in your car. That is improper.” And they really don’t have a clue. Now most people will just lie, but if we don’t teach men these things, how will they know? Because I say it, and I am blunt, some future female rider hopefully doesn’t have to squirm while lying to her driver.

I EMBRACE MY RUDENESS. IT HAS SAVED ME FROM BEING ROOFIED AT LEAST ONE TIME THAT I KNOW ABOUT. I found out later on that someone else (who refused to listen to me when I said something was wrong, I tried to get them to leave with me but they wouldn't) ended up being ambulanced to the hospital and had to be admitted. The "roofie" was carfentanyl. They had a seizure. Oh, and they still got robbed. Had I been roofied I probably would have been roofied AND raped that day, if it didn't kill me. Carfentanyl is synthetic diafentanyl, which is basically fentanyl times ten, but it is also more likely to cause seizures than diafentanyl. And I get non-epileptic seizures already. So for anyone who says there is never a reason to be rude, fuck you. Fuck you very much.

Source 1: https://townhall.com/tipsheet/timothymeads/2018/06/17/not-a-surprise-dc-has-more-psychopaths-per-capita-than-anywhere-else-in-the-united-states-n2491666


(POEM) Broken to Begin

There is a a heartbeat at the center.
Connection when you focus.
I wish these broken people
would stop looking at me.

The further in
the further out
pull me in
and pull me out

push me in
pull me about
rough the heartbeat
help me...

Pull me to the center.
Pull me to the center.





There is a light across the center.
Unfocused as a shout.
The less you know
The more you're about.

Pull me through the center.
Pull me through the center.

Push me out
pull me in
circle the light
spiral the spin





Across the Spiral I am the Spin
Unfocus your eyes and let me in.
Dark the void the Night transcends.

Light the heart, the Center wins.
Grey the World the still begins.

Push me out the Center.
Push me out the Center.

Fix your stars, fix your self,
I wish I weren't so broken
to begin.





I AM the Center Self.

Incident On the Mall, MAGA Covington Kids vs. Native Drummer Nathan Phillips

This is an opinion piece. How did I come about this information? Well, I have friends who were in all three events (the March for Life, the counter-protest, and the Indigenous People's March). I had friends who witnessed the event in question go down, and FoF's who witnessed it as well. I am also familiar with BHI's antics because I live in DC. I watched many, many videos. The rest is deductive reasoning. Usually I post links at the end, to cite my sources, but I would like to let the reader know that most of the videos in circulation are from
BHI, and that I have a personal dislike of BHI, and for that reason, I won't post links that support traffic to them, their websites, or channels. I also have my other sources (friends) who may wish to remain private.

Some backstory on the players.

Something really important to understand about this story is a very teeny, but very crazy, militant cult known as the Black Hebrew Israelites (BHI). You can find them most weekends in DC at the Chinatown arch, with a little speaker and microphone setup, spouting some truly racist, sexist, bigoted horseshit about the coming Armageddon and how at the end of the world they are gonna enslave all the white people (those who survive the race wars where they rise up with the coming of black Jesus, anyway). Think nazis if nazis were black. They are absolutely bugfuck eat-yo-face cray-cray. Their entire MO is to antagonize the piss out of you and try to get you to take a swing at them or otherwise lay hands on them, in which case they can hurt you, REALLY BADLY, and claim self-defense. They especially antagonize young white guys. Also, they like to be outnumbered, because then they are justified in using whatever is at hand as a weapon against you. I think they spend a good portion of their downtime training in fighting. The fact that they have no problem with calling mobs of drag queens "f-gg-ts" through a loudspeaker in downtown DC and no one has destroyed them yet shows you how dangerous they are. Think Westboro Baptist Church on meth. You can apparently also find them in Baltimore and NYC, likewise preaching to a crowd of exactly zero people. We all just avoid them. They once called me a whore of Babylon for having a short haircut.

Enter the kids of Covington Catholic HS, a very elite place where the tuition is somewhere between $7-10K a year, all boys, mostly white. I was trying to figure out if it was one of those "not so secret" reform schools but I never could tell. The locals do NOT tell good stories about their students however. Below is an 2011 photo of the Covington kids, who apparently donned blackface to taunt a rival basketball teams' player. (The internet dated it 2015, but checking around "someone" identified a Covington youth who went to the school in 2011, however the photo didn't make the internet until 2015. At first I thought it was photoshopped but I actually watched a youtube video with clips. Other schools complained about their sideline antics. Which means this photo is likely legit.) Correct me if this is wrong, but nothing I have heard so far about Covington Kids leads me to think they are model citizens.


The other player in this scenario is Nathan Phillips, a Vietnam Vet Vietnam Era Veteran and Standing Rock water keeper, which is also so far left he is practically off the map. Bit of a media whore, that one. Still a brave motherfucker.


So the situation in play is this. BHI is doing their usual, that they do whenever they can find a crowd to antagonize. From BHI's perspective, the white man has kept the black man down in perpetuity, and at Armageddon the tables will turn with the coming of black Jesus when they will finally get what they deserve, which is the killing and enslavement of all the white people. Basically, BHI is shouting random fucked up things to everyone passing by, and everyone is keeping a very, very wide berth. Because most people have enough brain cells to rub together to cause a spark.

I don't know why the Covington kids decided to start a heckling match back. I mean, yes, everyone WANTS to slug those guys, but we know better. They are OBVIOUSLY violent, militant, crazy, cultists. You can smell "danger, danger, Will Robinson" coming off them. Maybe the kids are just too sheltered and rich, or thought because they were kids BHI adults wouldn't hurt them, or maybe because they outnumbered BHI like 15-1 (there were only 5 Black Hebrew Israelites, and a ton of kids) so they thought it would be okay. Or maybe it was just "dumb invincible kid-ness" or "dumb invincible tourist-ness" or the high of coming off a big march of protestors because they had been in the March for Life. Maybe their brand new MAGA hats had too much polyester fumes.

They didn't fully surround BHI, thank goodness. (Yes, BHI is cray cray enough to take something as innocuous as THAT as an "attack".) But they started heckling back. This is so...not...good.

Now, to be fair, it was only some of them. You can't paint all the kids with the same brush. Heck, the group was so large, probably some of the kids never even knew about all of it. But some of the things I saw on the videos included:

UPDATE: I witnessed, on video, some of them booing BHI, and doing their "sideline stunts", the same kinds of stunts other school formally complained about as intimidation tactics. Their PR spin will have it that they were doing "team chants" but remember that blackface above? That's the level of intimidation tactics from the bleachers of Covington HS when faced with a rival team in a sports game. What they were doing started with some kids booing, and one kid ripped off his shirt to help egg them on, followed by their "team chants". Covington HS is not exactly friendly when it comes to team spirit.

At the same time as the team chants, though unknown to Covington HS (but those of use familiar with BHI can figure it out easily enough) the BHI guy says into his phone "you dirty bastards better be ready”. Note that BHI are visibly all armed with staffs.

When BHI called the kids "f-gg-ts" someone in the crowd of kids shouted "I'm a child of sodomy and proud" back at BHI. The kids nearby start laughing.

BHI called the kids "crackers" and the black kid token "n-gg-rs" and at this point some kid made a gesture. Now, I could not see if it was a rude gesture (like the bird) or an angry fight gesture, because his friends instantly grabbed his arms and turned him away. Either way, BHI, who will ALWAYS misinterpret things as "fight gesture" starts saying "oh, you gonna go postal now, huh?" Also, I can't remember word for word, but BHI starts making fun of the MAGA hats around this time, and calling the kids future "school shooters" because of their MAGA hats.

When the BHI dudes started calling them racist names, a bunch of kids yelled stuff back, I couldn't tell if they yelled slurs back or not, because several kids yelled several things, making it very indistinct. UPDATE: I saw a new recording, and clearly heard one kid yell "dirty Arab" back. Though someone else said, "how can you say that to a 16-year-old?" Several other kids also stopped their friends from yelling stuff and were moving them away from the BHI area. BHI doesn't move around.

UPDATE: In the better sound video, when being called "children of incest" by BHI, someone responds "you taste like incest" back to BHI.

UPDATE: At one point, I hear them say of BHI, they're "just freaks". I am only mentioning this because I think, but not positive, that it was a CHAPERONE who was trying to move the kids back from BHI. I think he said (not sure) "come on they're just freaks" while motioning them away. Now, if that came from one of the kids as he was doing it, fine, but if that was the chaperone? Great adulting there, fella.

There was a kid in the background, way in the background, who had taken the sign off his stick. He was whacking random things and the ground. Impossible for me to tell if he was being aggressive or just bored. But again, BHI always interprets things as aggressive. He is on a video saying if the kid swings his stick at/near him he is going to "lay that kid out". Same BHI dude seems to have personal space issues in other videos.

So now you've got this heckling back and forth, and BHI trying to antagonize these kids into more and more heckling. Remember, BHI WANTS to pick a fight. Some of the kids are heckling, some are trying to stop heckling, some are at the back of the group and probably bored and have no idea what is going on.

The Indigenous People's March is breaking up, enter Nathan Phillips with his drum. It's a very tense situation. (One witness actually stated that she had never felt sorry for BHI before. Personally, I eyerolled at that, BHI lives to martyr themselves. Take that how you want it. She was there. I wasn't.)

Yes, he DID jump in front of the kid, with his drum. Was he supposed to jump in front of BHI? What, and get stabbed? He knew BHI, even if they didn't have prior experience, they'd been heckling the Native Americans all day. He started walking in front of the kids, especially the hecklers, and drumming, drawing attention to himself. For those who don't know, the song and drumming he was doing was a medicine song, designed to counter violence. So there is a bit of cultural disparity there, when you don't understand that he was drumming a medicine song. BHI never makes the first swing, but if the kids had made a move, even a "pretend" swing that didn't actually connect (like kids will do when they want to show their ass but don't actually want a real fight), some of those youths would have been really, really hurt.

Also, remember his personality type, he's an antagonistic, attention whore. Meaning: sees problem, jumps in middle.

Now, some of the kids thought Phillips was part of BHI. Some of the kids were heckling Phillips etc, BECAUSE they thought BHI and the Native Americans were somehow together, a bit in part because Phillips was so forward with his drum. (UPDATE: In the better sound video, I can clearly hear them barking like dogs at Phillips. At no point did I ever hear "Build the Wall" from the kids. Though reports say it happened, I cannot confirm this. Likewise, I never heard "go back to Europe".) Some of the kids were chanting in solidarity with Phillips. Some of the kids were just tagging along with the group and again, probably had no idea what was going on, just sticking together because that is what you do on a school trip.

Yes, some kids were heckling, but not every kid. Also, that tomahawk gesture is racist AF. Please folks, stop doing that shit. Even though maybe you aren't trying to be racist, it's racist. Just saying. When you know better, do better. [Update: I am informed about another indigenous cultural tidbit, that it is extra rude/insulting to look an elder in the eyes. So from Phillip's perspective, Nick Sandmann (the youth) was being super disrespectful AF. Like, you don't get much more rude. We've got an issue of cross-cultural divide here, and the situation at hand was not conducive to explaining cultural differences.]

The wide angle shows that the kids did end up boxing him in. Did they do this to be threatening or because they wanted to see him drumming? Who knows? The kids had room to maneuver but didn't give them space to move forward toward the monument, which is where he had wanted to finish the song. Probably at this point he panicked. Did he have a justified reason to panic? Maybe, maybe not. Beside the point. People sometimes panic whether or not they have justifiable reasons.

Remember he made a quick decision to try and diffuse a super-tense situation. Was it the best decision? Well, what I can say is, IT FUCKING WORKED. NO ONE GOT HURT. NO FIGHT BROKE OUT BETWEEN BHI AND COVINGTON. We can look back and analyze things afterwards and say, well maybe he should have approached it differently, or better, or this or that, but at the end of the day, what he did WORKED. It may not have been the best approach. But every single one of those Covington kids went home without being beaten or clubbed or stabbed by a militant cultist. Sometimes, when things are tense and you come up on a situation and you have to think fast, the "best" decision is the one that FUCKING WORKS and everybody simply goes home ALIVE AND IN ONE PIECE.

No one in this situation is all good or all bad (though BHI is pretty low on the shit list, in my book--one could argue about the whole slavery oppressed black people thing turning out violent militant cultists, I SUPPOSE).

Still, at the of the day, THEY ALL SURVIVED ANOTHER DAY. And if Phillips hadn't done what he did, even if it wasn't the best thing he could have done, they MIGHT NOT HAVE. That said, Phillips is also a professional media whore who is gonna milk every bit of limelight he can out of this, because he LURVES the spotlight.



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Karma Is Not Individual

Karma is a collective.

So here is a thought for today. What if untouchables really are a necessary class? What if we need unlucky bastards? What if good luck and bad luck are real things, outside forces beyond statistical noise, and are finite? And having someone soak up a bunch of bad luck allows for other people to go about their daily lives without looking up for falling pianos?

What if there were a group of divine unholy, like untouchables, who voluntarily chose to a certain amount of bad karma, to soak it up, to help save the rest of you. Like Jesus. Getting crucified and martyred so that you don’t all get your just desserts for all the shit you’ve done, even if maybe he didn’t deserve it. And what if periodic sacrifices are necessary, and if no one volunteers (no, you cannot volunteer someone else, lol) then the bad luck we actually deserve begins to happen to us collectively, and that THAT is part of the problem we are facing today.

We are getting our just desserts, instead of mercy. How’s that for a perpective?

Hell Is In the Undersea

It is hot and chill, with pressures immense.

Not a place to visit. Not a place to live.

A place to be cast out, if you are cast down. A place of darkness, to hide from your own faults. A place of viciousness, without compassion.

Depths, illusions, mysteries better left unexplored.

A waiting place. A place best borne in slumber.

Monsters live there.

Do not wake the oceans.

Let the oceans sleep.

Dreams, Sickness, and (I think an important) Rant

I've been depressed for two months, which I finally nailed down the probably causes. It started with me switching to gummy vitamins, which did NOT cut it. (After three days of no vitamins, I get super depressed, and I took them till they were gone.) And then got a cold from AgtOrange, and went sporadic on my meds, and then I caught another cold from him, and stopped my meds altogether. Stopped talking or responding to good friends and girlfriend (she really needs a nickname soon along with a few other people here) and I just tailspinned out of control for a couple of months. Plus I may have some issues with either my hiatal hernia or gallbladder or something. Nausea, puking, and diarrhea. But then my diet hasn't been super great either, because I couldn't be bothered to care.

Day before yesterday I finally felt well, so I made weekend plans and had a great day Saturday. Toured a mosque for the first time and learned some incredible stuff, and really felt the presence of what I call the Great Aum (my version of God/Goddess/Om/The Great Consciousness, I Am) for just a moment. It's like a cross between "Om" and "I am" when God says "I Am in the Bible" and I feel his/her/its presence it's like this total sense of compassion and love and thereness of being. Yes, I admit I may be crazy as a loon, and religious folks say "how do you know it's God and not a devil and I'm like, if you feel it YOU KNOW. I've felt it also in some Catholic churches and Wiccan altars, though not generally in a Baptist place yet (I think it might be that they tend to use converted warehouses a bit too often which isn't very transcendent with all the salesman vibes already seeping into the place).

But then I had crazy nightmares all night. The first one I was related to President Trump, and Secret Service kept breaking into my house and rearranging all my stuff. The second we were trying to move but couldn't until the mountains of laundry were done, and I was watching a dog for a friend. I left the dog in the laundry room and ran upstairs because I needed some more quarters (my laundry room doesn't even take quarters) and in the five minutes I was gone someone stole the dog. So I was up and down all night, and that meant I slept all day. Plus my already sick and chronic fatigue tired. Napped but was up every hour, mostly to pee. Too sick to read or watch tv, which is BAD for me. Like, the worst kind of bad for those who know me.

Well, my system cleaned out and I managed to get to a friend's and toked. Haven't puked, though lately it makes my back hurt some and I get paranoid. (Also, the Lyft pulled a U-turn at the end that almost had me sick in the bushes when I got out.) Home again, I feel totally better except for that edgy feeling. No nausea, no diarrhea. And I should not have had that smoothie because puking day-glo green is just not the thing, even if it only tasted of bananas. (It was banana, soy, and organic green health stuff.) But even if the gallbladder is part of the problem I am NOT having it taken out. There are several non-surgical techniques, and from what I gather the diet for having one and not having one is mostly the same, so why take it out unless you are having some kind of nasty acute attack? It's like when they tested me for some of my reactive hypoglycemia, because all I was told was to change my diet to high-protein, which I could have done anyway without having to take a nasty test that put me almost in sugar shock/passing out. It could also be the hiatal hernia getting worse, so I started back up on my prilosec even though I don't remember that making a difference in the past and new studies show it isn't great for your heart (though that's more true of black men).

It occurs to me that I also started my medicine back from zero to the dose I was taking lately, instead of tapering up, and that's for ALL of them, which is probably not the best and brightest maneuver I could do. I should at least cut them in half, or look around for some of my old pills that are a smaller dose. And meat and dairy still don't sit well, so I'm watching that (may still be some kind of gallbladder thing). I've also heard one of my meds can make lactose intolerance INSANELY worse, so maybe this is totally it for dairy for me. No more ice cream or butter. How very sad.

I am also probably cycling, which tends to give me some of those same stomach ailments. So long as I can still eat a little bacon from time to time, I can live with my horrible diet (no dairy, little sulfites, little heavy meats or grease, no canola oil or yellow five, low processed sugar. But I was shocked at the doctor checkup -- I weighed 115 with steel toed books and clothes on, and my ideal weight I like is about 118 with clothes on, so I'm like at least 5 lbs underweight even for me.

Also, I did eat some smarties not so long ago and yellow #5 has made me puke blood before if I eat too much. And yes, I ate one or two yellow ones but they weren't VERY yellow. It was also not so smart. I was craving them something awful. I don't know why I have no impulse control when it comes to craving bad foods (or anything else). I keep talking to my shrink about it but he isn't being terribly helpful. They don't really have "impulse control drugs or therapies" that are terribly effective. Maybe I should develop one using Buddhist meditations and philosophies. Then I can put it on YouTube and get famous. If he wasn't also my pain doctor I would switch, but I still can't find a good pain doc at the pain clinic. Yes, I have problems with uppers at times (can you blame me, chronic fatigue and when I had that nasty big polyp it was the only thing which helped the awful, awful pain and once begun the trick is quitting after they surgically removed it, plus my PMDD/hormones really mess me up. For the longest time I was craving drugs like other crave chocolate, and while they say cravings go away in a few minutes, mine would last the three days while I PMS'd and that is a LONG time to withstand psychotic level PMS). But everyone in the know (addiction specialists) will tell you that uppers and downers are two different brain chemistry issues and not related AT ALL, I even took the genetic test and I'm not predisposed to pain pill addiction. I've been on them for years with no problems, but I still get the runaround. Which is what I get for trying to be totally honest about myself to my doctors. The one shrink pill that I thought I might have a problem with I even told a prior shrink about and refused to take it after a two week trial run. And yes, I'm less honest now because of all the flak I've gotten. But they still treat you like a leper. Especially now with the crackdown on the opiode addiction. I used to visit the ER for breakthrough pain/Percs when I really needed it, and now if I do (which is not often, it was usually like a three day supply maybe once every two or three months) I can't obtain them legally, which was never a problem before. I couldn't even get oragel/lidocaine for my dentist the other day when my latest filling went haywire. Like, ORAJEL FFS!!

Part of me wonders if a prescription for ritalin would cover up my cravings (I'm back on the NAC supplement too, which also effs up my stomach and only works a tiny bit, but I think the chances of me getting ritalin legally are like a a million to one). Which is just too bad. If you can get methadone and suboxone etc for downers, why not a mild upper to counter an upper craving...and I would probably only need it half the time, close to when I think I'm cycling. The Drug War just needs to end and people just need to have compassion. I've had one friend get shot and killed and two OD in the last 4 months or so (one lived, one died), which would never have happened if this so called war did not exist. And I have been visiting one who is trying to quit desperately and I'm so proud of him because he cut his use in half. He tried to go cold turkey but puked all over himself and his bed and his roommate had to clean him up since he couldn't really move. He finally gave up, but just that was enough to knock down his habit.

So then if you have chronic pain or even prior addiction issues (regardless if they have nothing to do with the pain pills you need) you HAVE to deal with scumbags and act like some kind of crazed addict to get what, like five or ten percocet? Even though I've never used them irresponsibly at all. So mostly I just muddle through in agony, because the kinds of people you have to go through for THAT are the worst of the worst. They assume as a woman they can make you do all sorts of things because your are desperate. I may be in horrifying pain, but I"m not that kind of person. I really feel for women on the street subjected to that. If normal people only knew how ladies like that were treated, like, they pay for the stuff, and then they still have to deal with things like groping, hitting on, guys trying to force sex on them even after that, and being shortchanged because they are female. Can you imaging paying for a drug you need (because for those people, they get real sick if they don't have it) and then having some guy try to force sex on you even though you legitimately paid him? What the fuck is wrong with people? Now, I know a lot of dealers who are just stuck in their lifestyle because they were stupid in their teens, and uneducated, and have bills to pay, but there are just as many who need to be locked up and have the keys thrown down a cesspit. Or maybe they need thrown down a cesspit and the keys destroyed.

That's right, not even all dealers are scum. I know what who takes care of his elderly, incapacitated mother who is like in her eighties, can't move and on dialysis. He cooks all her meals, bathes her, the works. All by himself. And pays for the house bills and everything. But he can't do that without an education, with a criminal record from his past, unless he sells drugs. No one will hire him, and certainly not in a job with a flexible schedule so he can always take care of his momma that pays enough. And I know more who are taking care of kids, like being the GOOD DADS that minority men generally seen as not being. I know addicts who work like demons to support their habits, they don't leech off the government and they aren't on welfare and maybe they aren't model citizens, but they only hurt themselves really. And yes, 7 of 10 are probably awful people who con and steal, but they all (the remaining 30) get treated like scum by normal people. If drugs were decriminalized (not necessarily legal) we could deal with the scum like scum, and the people with problems like the people with problems. People who want to quit would come forward when they were ready to do so, instead of being afraid to admit they have a problem.

I often want to wash my hands of these folks I meet, but then I learn of people dying, good people sometimes, and I just can't. It hurts too much. One of them OD'd because the drug mix was too strong...lately Fentanyl is getting mixed in with heroin because it's more powerful and it is killing people. She'd been using too much because she is having serious family issues, which I really feel for her even though she has been doing really awful shady things and I've been avoiding her even as I understand that right now, with her really hurting emotionally, she can't handle the emotional pain. What she needs is therapy, but people with problems don't want to go to doctors and say this because of how they are then treated forever after. She's actually been telling people she was in jail rather than admit she OD'd. It's that bad. The other one quit for awhile, and he slipped and went back to his normal dose when his body had no tolerance now. That's often the way people die. They quit, then they slip once and it's over. Dead.

I did actually have a little smoke here, but lately I don't like vaping it. I prefer micro-amounts in a one-hitter and I left mine at a friends recently and someone walked off with it. The vape is really just a bit much more me because you have to pack a whole bowl/tray. I need to raise the money to renew my medical card, because those strains from the dispensary don't give me so many side effects (I can get high CBD stuff which counters all the THC). I tried just straight oil but it didn't work. My friend gave me another one hitter which I had him clean out really well since I didn't want any residue from what he uses (ahem) so at least I can toke my ganja now. Even pencil thin joints are too much for me.

I actually listened to the gospel music one of the drivers was playing, and thanked him (and totally meant it) when he said he'd pray for me. At this point, I will take every bit of help I can. Seriously. Normally this pisses me off because I'm Buddhist and they take assumptions when they say that. I feel like one should say, "Would you like me to pray for you?" rather than "I will pray for you" because it shows more respect for my personal beliefs. The latter is more to make the person praying feel better about themselves because they can then be proactive, rather than making me for respected and listened to and cared for in a manner I appreciate. But today? Pray away. Do shamanic dances. Light incenses. Candles in church. Lay on of hands. Hail Jesus and Muhammad (peace and blessings or whatever you are supposed to say there) and Mary and whatever angels you prefer. I hate lighting incense late at night because of neighbors but I kind of want to do it anyway, just to show my empathy for all sick people anywhere. And I can't find my prayer paper instructions for others, just my metta, and I certainly don't want to run the printer at 0200 even though I slept all day and now I feel, if not perfect, at least much, much better.

And I AM restless, for whatever reason I can actually stay up for days just toking. No shit. If I take a blast every thirty minutes I can stay up for like two days. Because I can't sleep for thirty minutes after a puff. My chemistry is strangely bizarre. I keep saying I've developed some kind of crazy ADHD or something. It no longer makes me hungry and sleepy. I want to do dishes, but again, that would seriously disturb the neighbors. Maybe 0200 laundry? But that's to close to my nightmare of last night, lol, so maybe tomorrow if I get any rest.

And yes, I know this is all TMI, but if I can make even one normal person have compassion for all the people I have seen, and make them understand that not every person with an addiction is a bad person (yes, yes, LOTS of them are, I don't deny that in the slightest) and that even those who are sometimes have reasons (like this woman, she is so completely messed up emotionally that all she wants is to basically kill herself with drugs so she can't, simply can't, see her way to care about anyone or anything else right now). I know many people with family members who have had super bad experiences. I'm not saying be a doormat for a person who is treating you badly. But no one wakes up one morning and says, hey I want to be an addict/alcoholic/junkie! Something happens or is happening to make them that way, and after awhile they bury that shit so far down they don't even feel what is wrong anymore. They become, as my therapist said, "insectile inside".

I can't turn my back on these people completely. I've lost so many of them, to the streets and to drugs and also to disability and suicide. And even the worst of the worst have glimmers of humanity. Like that woman. She once picked my pocket (or tried, but she didn't get much), and then later, guilty, helped me clean a kitchen for a friend and offered me drugs when she didn't really have much, which for her was the most compassionate thing she could think of to do. You see these things and you know that somewhere, buried under all the pain and awful, they are still living, hurting people, who love and want to be loved so desperately.

My compassion is not a weakness, no matter how people see me. It takes a strong person to love like that, and love doesn't mean me being a doormat or giving them money. But it might be a roommate cleaning up puke. Or just being there and listening to them, even if you have to guard your wallet and zip up your pockets at the same time. Or feeding them and making sure they aren't sleeping on the streets, or dropping them off somewhere in the neighborhood where they can score. Or just calling them to make sure they are okay after a court date or a surgery (I have several friends whose use went haywire after they got cancer or were hospitalized for whatever reason.) People mistake love for weakness, but loving like that is some of the hardest work I've ever done, especially when someone has done me horribly. I forgave the friend who stole my wallet, especially since I learned he took some/most of the money and bought groceries for him and his family, after he'd screwed up and spent his own grocery money on drugs. But if I see him, I make sure I know where my wallet is AT ALL TIMES. I'm not a moron.

And I don't fault people who think druggies are the worst of all people, and dealers even worse, because I know they are hurting too. Loving yourself is just as important. I love you even if I don't know you. You are all beautiful people. I wish you all peace and prosperity and an end to suffering. Blessed be.

Nightmare Dreamscape of War

I dreamed there was a war. It didn't feel like a true dream, thankfully, more like a response to what is going on in Aleppo and the United States. Sometimes I do start having true dreams around the turn of the year, though, and I can only hope if I do have one it bears no relation to last night's.

I dreamed that people were writing and tattooing numbers, parts of social security numbers etc., all over their bodies. Not because the government was making us do it, but because it made identifying the bodies and body parts so much easier and they didn't want relatives to go on never knowing if they lived or died.

I dreamed there were packs of orphaned, feral children, that roamed the streets in gangs during the day and slept in parks at night. They slept in trees to avoid the wild animals and packs of feral dogs and coyotes that scavenged rough the night.

One group of children was more ostracized than the others, whether for mental deficiencies or because they were LGBTQA wasn't clear. The adults decided to burn out the trees in their park, and though they had been repeatedly warned, these kids had no place to go.

I dreamt that temples were claiming children as property to protect them, by placing collars made of wreathed flowers around their necks. They tried to mark this group of children, only due to a shortage and need to order more collars, only seven or eight (about half) or the children could be official claimed and brought into church property.

And I dreamt the fires were laid, and adults watched with indifference as the trees burned. A few of the remained children made it out, and the rest burned in their trees, unable to escape when they woke to fires burning in the branches all around them.

And this is why I am awake, early in the morning, despite having gone to bed late. I don't want to dream anymore.

My Legacy

Some things I've learned in this lifetime so far:

Don't judge -- not the druggies, nor the prostitutes, not the pimps nor the pushers
You don't know what motivates them, and even the ones doing wrong are sometimes just confused and unenlightened. There's a difference between not allowing someone to hurt yourself or others and condemning them for their actions.

Be kind to all of the above, to the rich elite as well as the homeless panhandlers, whether you believe they deserve it or not. Kindness is not a measure of other people, it's a measure of yourself.

It's better to regret doing a thing than to regret not having done a thing. We learn best by our mistakes.

For the above reasons, forgive others their mistakes. Allow people to learn and grow. Encourage them to make new mistakes, rather than repeating the same ones of the past.

Life is a spiral. Sometimes it can seem like you're going in circles and back to where you started. Each time that happens, take stock of what you did to put yourself there. The difference between an upward spiral and a downward one is simply turning around and facing the other direction.

There is no shame in accepting help from others. Pass it on.

What doesn't kill us often breaks us. There are a lot of broken people out there. Be kind to them.

Violence only begets more violence. To have peace, cultivate peace.

Nothing belongs to you. You can't take anything with you. You keep nothing, not even your body. Everything is on loan, so take care of it because you'll have to give it back some day. Learn to share with others who respect this rule and protect from those who would violate it.

Above you, be kind to yourself.

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Depression Suicide Checklist

I've walked beside a number of people contemplating suicide, and I'm pretty good at offering both hope and solace, but I've not taken to same hard logical look at my own life, because I've got a pretty good idea of what the outcome is going to be. For future posterity, here's my checklist criteria:

How old are you? Depression and other mood disorders hit hard around the time the hormones are up, and some people can grow out of them. I don't recommend the final recourse for anyone under 25 unless they are already suffering from some fatal illness. In which case they get the right to decide.

Are you sober? Emotions are chemicals, and the so-called negative emotions can be caused by chemicals. I believe a person needs to be sober of mind-altering substances for at least 30 days before one can make a sound decision of this magnitude.

Is this a lifelong chronic illness, or did this begin because of a singular event? For people who didn't start off depressed, I have good news! The chances that this depression is a permanent condition are slim. That doesn't mean it sucks any less, because without assistance the feeling could last as long as two years. Average seems to be four to six months or so, but people vary greatly in resilience and circumstance. You should probably still reach for outside intervention if you can; hopefully someone sees your struggle and lends a hand when you can't ask for one. The more bouts of depression you suffer from in your lifetime, the worse your prognosis. A few unlucky souls carry this dread malady 24/7, forever. I urge those who have ever suffered from a singular bout of depression to both understand the depth of this darkness and also to please not confuse the two with unrealistic expectations. A person with a chronic lifelong illness is not going to feel better when you tell them they will feel fine in the future.

Have you started anything new, including new antidepressants, or a new and what should be an exciting chapter of your life? Things that we think "shouldn't" cause pangs of ill feeling often do, like having a baby, a new and better job, buying a house, or an awesome new relationship. They resurface old inadequacies. Why? Because life is a spiral. Counseling, a change in meds, or simply talking with a trusted friend might help. Either way, give yourself six months to adjust to the change. That's about how long studies show it takes most humans to adapt to new situations.

Finally, how many things have you tried? Dealing with depression, like any illness, takes a lot of hard work. I didn't promise it would be easy, only that not being depressed is worth the effort. At minimum try a couple of different counselors in a couple of different styles, one of each of the classes of medication (which takes two months to adjust), gratitude meditation (the one most proven to work for this condition), and the "3 Good Things" daily journal exercise, where you write down in a log three good things that happened to you each day (you have to do it for at least thirty days).

If you have alternative reasons for wanting to end it all, such as other illnesses or toxic relationships, have you worked with those? These may also be deciding factors to consider, especially if your condition is excessively painful or fatal. For those with pain conditions who are now on the highest doses, consider ibogaine treatment, which can reset your tolerance to pain meds and set up back up on the ladder. It's expensive and illegal in many places, but desperate times....

Once you've gone through the checklist, then it's simply up to you. I can't say I offer up much hope past all of these things, and yet some people still want to live, while others don't. Don't forget that old adage of, "you can always kill yourself tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself back to life if you kill yourself today." Either way, my blessings to all of you.

As for myself, I think lack of sobriety is the only thing keeping me around. That and the fact that my life is an unholy mess. I think that once I get everything straight, and get myself totally sober, rather than feeling relieved I'm going to realize I'm still insanely depressed. Still, I'm determined to do both of those things. And then I'm going to take a hard look. Because my doctor has told me I'm completely out of drug options. I've tried all the therapy a million times. I can recount about six months to maybe a year of my life total WHEN I WASN'T DEPRESSED every single day to at least some degree, and that's an awfully long time. I'm in pain, I have no real function in society anymore since I can no longer work, and I barely leave the house. Illness has robbed me of everything. And I'm so very, very tired. I regret nothing, but I think it may be time to close the door and let the wheel turn. We'll see.

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