I made my decision based on what? I wonder now, having a hard time thinking back. I believed these killings, snatching children etcetera, was still happening. I wanted to be free, which had an effect. Mostly I TELL MYSELF I did not know enough.
Now I am beyond having any clue how I ended up having cognizant dissonance even now. I know I can blame my actions on my many faults, as well. I was going to listen to no one. I had no clue why you showed me my image, what you wanted of me... that you wanted leadership, in a time when I was in no condition to be in charge of anything.
Waiting for a bus today, just feeling the usual morose, blah, regretful which is my usual mindset, I thought how different I am now, and how similar this is to the old me, with all of these horrors overlaying me. Tempered, sharpened like a sword. No. Much more like an artist who just throws paint at a canvas, lacking thought or effort; objects their friends to dreaded getting as gifts. I know enough to see some seasons pass in this worried.
The Guardians. Now we will see if the people who all wanted to use the name, two teams at once, as Steven Colbert made known to me, as I wrote a lot of people in the far future, and far in the past. I thought of men in castles, walking around at night, screaming all is well. Keeping the law. Myths from fiction more than facts from history. I was trying to create a future cop, who would not judge people by race, etcetera. Picturing a time in a future was the most important part of the narrative, what I prayed might echo into the future, when encampments, and working together, would be needed. I see all this was nothingness. More words, more dust in the wind.
One day, suspecting horror, made a statement which saved lives . . . as before I let people know my morality transcends this body, in a shapeless, formless creature. I before saw a young woman cry a tear when she heard me saying I would die before I would fight in a race war. Then they tried to say I started it, despite all the words I wrote on this matter. I wanted the cosmology of this writer to be known, so people would not have to guess where I was coming from.
I have been around plenty of racist people. I stay off the topic and find common ground. Bringing up a hot topic we disagree on is not going to help anything. I was never mean to people who showed their racism in the car, though I often brought up my black wife, or whatever. Usually I just took the fare where they wanted to go, and accepted their 'loved getting a white guy tip' with thank you. I evolved. I am not proud that a guy who in his fictional world fought racism, still had not met enough black people to have a clue. But... at 18 and drunk, waking up hung over, and used to fancy treatment centers from my mom's insurance, after swapping girlfriends... I am 18 and just knew I could not have that life. I called and found a half way house that took me in, a dormitory with all black workers, in an all black neighborhood. They liked me. Saved me. These are not things you just never repay. They are things you cannot repay, like the elderly black woman at a housing project, who saw I was about to be stabbed, yelled at her to get out of the cab that she had called it...
She told me about the knife as we drove away.
'She was about to kill you. She had a big butcher knife."
The reality of my life, when I look back, just at all the times I have seen myself fictionally murdered. First as the cult leader who david tennet played, on Jessica Jones. They had this guy doing horrible things to people, could control them by smell. It had me telling minions, gays, who I supported, and some gay criminals exploited the situation. I did not know what they were really doing.
I remember the night they brought dear, forgive me, sir, Ferrell, who I said was a great clown, not meaning for him to be sentenced to act in certain ways. He was on a horse, mostly naked, gay guys all around him. I HAD NO CLUE that my trying to help gays be more mainstream had allowed the kind of excesses I heard about. The smoking. I would never have promoted smoking. I did not want people living like me. I did not realize I was working with someone. When I found out, I realized that on certain matters they were what I believe deluded, and I sure as hell did not know enough about what was going on or have my head together enough to lead anything.
I was a guy who jokingly made up a stupid guy trying to use real hamsters. No idea I was soon to be sucked into a world where people judge one another harshly as hell. I was live and let live to the point of giving up on the idea of protesting, etc... by my mid 20's I was sure the world was going to die from the Greenhouse effect... if you pressed me. I had no clue how quick all this would happen. A few scientists who were drown out by billions worth of tv commercials and political donations. Even deals with the CIA to supply women slaves to oil sheiks in the middle east. I was threatened with this once, too. Like some people owned me. I hated that. The very thought... that this happened, by people who backed me, keeping slaves, was a glimpse into the chaos kept from me. I would have stopped it, but that is not what the folks trying to take over now wanted. I did when I learned.
I am unsure of anything that I did was inspired by God until this last action, which afterwards he allowed me to prove myself to those who would see. Small miracles. God given, in his usually subtle ways. . . or screaming in the Temple at those who used a House of God to make money. How did I go so insane? The screaming. All of it feels unreal.
My selfish thoughts. They happen too often. Another shelter from the storm... like death, which destroys me when I think of my pets, and how this madness led to my abuse of animals. They did not get to vets until it was too late. We spent our money of drugs, anything to get through this mental and physical hell.
I had the thought recently that Democracy Now may hate me watching them. And other shows. One showed it by being blatant about racism. I hate to think about the tv affiliations because I am still not sure who is who, entirely. I know a few shows tried to get me to say I was a mobster, which I have never even been close to in my real life, anymore than being a pirate. I am not these things. Had I any idea what was happening I would have made this clear. But me, in the middle of that context..
After writing recklessly about revolution all these years, without having a plan, other than pushing the USA further left, and to try to get all people to be known as loved by God. I do not expect people to be listening to me. I had a shower curtain full of roaches every morning. Yes, I felt insignificant enough though the tv world made a lot about me.
This has ended. I am finally not the center of affairs. I think. Perhaps my Dune death will be the end of this. Written into Dune, makes me feel so sick... look to the clock to see if it is pill time, the nervous feelings tingling throughout my body, drop my stomach. With this once more those gathered around me to steal took advantage. I was rightfully attacked, more than likely. If anything I was told is true. They told me blacks were being kept out of Orange which is nothing I would have anything to do with at that point right there. I am not putting my name on any movements other than the ones I have already.
This war is not my fault, as a women commented recently. I did not ask for any of this, and I in the end, by the Grace of God, not because of me... He delivered me from temptation so many times when I feel I would have been weak. Usually, I was fine.
These were profoundly humiliating years, still are. I may have kept a poker face when you told me things for the first year, but that was because of ignorance, primarily. I remember Letterman, and finding out I had somehow not stopped him from being attacked. I would never do this to him. I have no reason. I do not know people. I made the usual stupid statements regular people say about celebrities, thinking the fourth wall will never be broken, that they will never know about tiny me. The television I did not trust and the few who spoke to me, I should have interrogated but I was still sure I was surrounded by enemies. Hell, how many times have characters based on me died, as I wrote before? Do I have the nine lives of a cat? Ha. Virtually, the layers of the onion coming off, until there is seeming nothing. A shapeless spirit. A creature you cannot meet in the flesh, perhaps.
I do not wish to take away the belief that God, a Christ, is here. This is not what I make my decisions based on, we agree on the important things.
Other people at other times
