Even if, and I think that one has made one's point to oneself about living - between the lines, in the spaces, those naughty lacunae, there for artistic response of a higher dimension than imaginable; energy. Even if one certainly does not respond well any more to the absurd fake hippy version of that word, which was always snake oil vending, sadly by street hawkers of the other gender; sadly so lost in some weird secret agendas. Because theytoo need the fancy yurts and railway sleepers, at ALL cost. Even lying in front of their children, day after day for years.
But combine that - the tragic crap that dribbles from the corner of their mouths, as if christmas tree baubles munched upon and then mixed with vomit as even they cannot digest the glass, coming back up. And combine the complete inability of anyone to ever take the time to read carefully, or twice even! a paragraph of operational orders.... I mean it's their bloody nippers I work to get healthy and free! And get to smile. In a healthy way. And yet even one line at a time - line by line. Crafted so as to be as digestable as possible. Digitally chucked around due lack of time actually so engrossed in making something real happen. For them. Nope - reading and taking in even five spaced out lines; impossible. Never mind "can we get a clarification on what that sentence did mean please?" Nope....
But if only they knew. The energy. That somehow energises me. And energy in my universe arises from the black hole that is the response to pure communitarian, sane, standard model, scientifically known for decades, simplest, solutions. Or invitations. As equally pure.
Nope... the black hole of their assumptions and reasons never even to have the manners to return-pingpong "thanks yes we are dying of being stuck, and lost, and indoors, but not for us just now.." Which of course means they are simply dying of being themselves. Because they had a choice. But that was their choice. And is nothing to do with my, life, of miraculously living.
I am not glib. I am the in theory saddest person to exist.
... but I am only sad for real about one vison. It is bad to start a paragraph with '.....' but somehow I have to mark, the bad.
Even the worst of hurt does not so much. If at all, in truth. And i gave her that truth just a week ago. But in by far the most gorgeous year as if so many things so long were theory and then by some extraordinary mad scientist on hard drugs chucking every ingredient in his lab at it all - the all being what 'should' be.... The weird lost path to the Theory of Everything - his retard lab assistant on job creation behind his back pissed on all the petri dishes and by some unknowable force of something or other, that theory was indeed seen - glimpsed.
Too much to even begin to theorise what - the 'deal' is. As I have said so many times for years. Especially when up close and personal - 'ministry' they say, the bigots - nope that is not a nice word for rip off merchants who have fake religions in fake expensive churches even out this way in the wilds. And did nothing all last year, ever, to help anyone, despite me pointing them into potential victims, who said to me they needed, them... living alone, the middle of nowhere. And said fraudsters of the ministry, are indeed my many year real friends. As much as anyone can be in the ultimately atomised and lost lands.
SO yes - i better not even write her name. I invite no one here, and take some pains no one will know where 'here' is. In real life. This is more real than real life - when i have time to get back to many a day wandering the hills, soon, i shall somehow be able to find the real words for it all. Because simply the being non-human, except for gait - aside from the inhuman that is modern human, also energises - no not 'meditation' another fake word. Simply sets one aside, thank god. Small g.
Twelve months - so many new people - relatively speaking. SO many new healthy entanglements - defintion being last week "basically f off and go and get eaten by your own dog [we both so love] " - subliminally stated ut she - The Narratoress can read the actual script f she puts her fuckin railway sleepers down, let her stew ... and of course all is well again very soon. That is called actual communitarianism. And like 'mindfulness' it should have a hyphen after the first word, the second word being 'always' .... no matter what.
No matter what. Never.... take anything "personal" ....spesh this glorious paradise last twelve months.
But then her, age ten, that day. I think it was July - the definition of happiness unlike those Americans with their 'right' to it, is only ever retrospective, in that if so much real stuff has happened (never actually going very far - in the middle of nowhere, almost), despite my superb memory, just last July seems like about a decade back! And i never blot anything out with any poison. As even non-Byronic new-sister heard and didn't quite get when they give me my Christmas small bottle....
....where the 'message' i realised must go...of course. If she slowed the fuck down just a bit and thought - the significance! her bottle... will contain my last word.... I mean we did not even know each other none months ago. And due to Godzilla in her bed I am so pure it is daft. Indeed I think it must be a jolly about time update on Platonic 'love' ... she aint got time to realise the purest respect she has received from me. After all she let me make it about hers - and hers for her twelve years only on this planet. Her smile...up there in the hills, made my whole life worth while. But we cannot tell her that the seven year old a few weeks on simply took me to another universe. Because i know how to juggle all their fragile hearts and minds, and never break even a bauble if ten were in the air, simultaneously.
Well I thought i may know; and then along came out of the blue and in the middle of nowehere, the proof i simply, was. To quote Eric and his have/be... well in fact i dont think one can because he didn't get to this bit, cos it was impossible. TO be the best of all possible worlds, despite them, for them, but lots of rude bits also left in. No touching though of course....except she the enemy got a hug...in front of the other sad enemy... if she must remain so. I told them I will probably end up married to her....
Anyway all these lost chubbies (she-considers-me-'enemy' #2) , too-thinnies, and generally muscle obsessed... I never have time to eat well enough and no one pays me a penny for anything. And i don't want them too. They are not important, only playthings. In a pure way.... and now we even have the 'sex kitty..' the Narratoress - i write it that way only to amuse, it almost chimes with 'dominatrix' and i bet she did a bit of that too, despite her so called ultra green Community Trust background she defrauded me - spinning that tail a year ago..... got my point yesteraft....
But non eof them leave any impression - ok the "STASI" (when you write " it means thats been said in person gob to gob i mean no seems to have bothered educating anyone for decades so one may have to be nasty to my one reader, its called 'tough love' even if i say that a lot, too, one leaves of the quotes to maybe pass on the notion it is more of a universal obvious fuckin concept... ) so yes "STASI" -I-do-love.....(picture soon - she let me its still so beautiful) ...... if the others leave time for me to be me I can summon up that lovely vision just a week ago, too - seeing her again.....and she did "think twice" and backtrack, youturn...she did....to come and talk with me. And she is Florence Nightingale and wouldn't say "fuck" even if she is lethal too of course and is so backwards she doesnt realise that even the anodyne saccharine lot of radio 4 seemed to allow that one in some time ago - and it is every other word from the gobs of the kids in the street she incommered too with her filthy Southern lucre.... poor thing believing the articles about Paradise in the Guardian and Torygraph...; but ...oh i have forgotten my trail now, but...
Oh yes how can i forget: because i cannot. It really was like she was in a freight train car - or being whisked away in the back of a trailer, to one.... a one way one.... that famous one way journey the six million took. And i do not do melodrama or false pity. We learn nothing from pity as only one Goddess, neigh, human, knows - more on her later; simply a scene in a high street seared like a blacksmith's hot new shoe, into my minds eye... forever. That so lovely girl i was so absurdly privelaged to know. Never mind me and her so old gran so thrilled with her efforts to make friends no one would talk to her, or invite to tea... in that simply paradise endless sunshine June. Her fat arsed mother too busy with getting the perfect Homes and Gardens look back home....
It is as if she knew with that look... from her fancy motor back seat that day... the way she turned to me and held my gaze all the way down the street off to where i know not...
I have never had such an extraordinary close ... I don't know how to put it - i have had many extraordinary moments with children and even a few so called adults, but that one - it summed up every wasted moment of my life for years trying to fix stuff.... its all unfixable...all of it... no one cared, no one DID anything..... what did her look say what was she thinking, i have never been so curious to know but I think i do know - and it is no conceit... let us leave it at " I know.... i know you tried.... and thank you for fixing my bike my fat mother and too busy even in fuckin lockdown rich dad couldnt manage... thank you .... i know you tried... but you and i know mister... there was never any real hope... but we were 'beautiful' ....when all around were mainly sour...even there that lovely picnic bench by that lovely river.... you and me ... i am in your heart if you wish... you softly softly shared you with us when no one else would...not to fast to shock.... have my face now pail again but have my eyes... this vision as forever gift ... we connected... we really did....despite them...."
