Ka-Blam! (I felt the psychic tremor.) Erupted into the inter-ether like a geyser a few weeks ago. You can't quote Goethe and NOT get my attention.
"I'm an ocean
In your bedroom
Make you feel warm
Make you want to re-assume
Now we know it all
For sure."
Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Don't Forget Me"
I'm sure I had nothing to do with your blog posting. (/sarcasm) Because I don't really exist. (I didn't 'cut the mustard' or like ani difranco or Georgia O'Keeffe or abject pacifism or whatever it fucking was.) If I did exist, I'd say this...
"Helm, take us far away. Far, far away. Let's see southern Denmark."
"Blinx, Klargen." The XO faded into the background of the bridge, shaking his little, swollen head. He knows I have issues. I heard the hatches close, ("fffip-smieeck") then we were off. The Rotatey-Chair moved around counter-clockwise, and we gained altitude soooo fast. MAIN was showing an actual feed and we popped through the clouds and accelerated to the north-east. Canada passed by, then Greenland. Within a few more seconds we were hovering over the town that bears this ship's name.
There was a signal received by the Arecibo radio-astronomy dish in Puerto Rico that was - strangely - in an obvious frequency (hydrogen's resonance) - and strong as fuck. Non-local. I'm sure we all know what 'non-local' means. It was there. It happened. The radio astronomer who was reviewing the scans wrote "Wow!" in the margins.
This was long ago. 1977.
There's a new 'Wow' signal. It's non-local. Really kinda breaks the pattern of 'nothingness.'
I can't comment on anything directly, because that would compromise her anonymity. (I do respect her enough that I'm not gonna ever say her real name here. Those of you who know, know. [They are legion.])
Beatrix. You smoldering, incredible woman. My undoing. My sin, my soul, my memory's pathetic sanctuary. My teacher - from inspirational nature to palpable anomie.
I know you can't contact me. You won't dial 351-5369 in my area code. (Because you don't really want to, primarily, is that it?) I know you can't do it, for past promises, residual ire, marriage vows, future-shock, - that 'life-tendon' is cut through cleanly. Whatever it is. You can't. I get it. I was discarded, and fuck me if I didn't stay that way. It's what you intended, and created. You made me go away forever. And yet, I'm still alive. My path has had to sashay around yours to give you the 'distance' you so long for. I don't go to Folklife, or the Oregon Country Fair, or even Burning Man, because I know the dread consequences of ever crossing your path again. You're a particular sort of personal demon. A nasty, resentful unicorn.
Back to the topic. The signal. That weird signal. Wow.
You seem to use phrases like "walk of integrity" and "human mirrors" and "metaphorical grounding rod" and you throw them around like you believe them, or know them.
I may kinda disagree with those self-assessments, Beatrix. (You know why, but I'll explain it to the laymen here.)
My assertions about you may - or may not - be true or relative. I'm working on such little info here.
"Walk of integrity" implies a direct and knowing path of competent, non-judgmental, informed wonder, where most all the variables are known, and compensated for, somehow (courage helps.) Integrity is an 'adherence to moral principles' that I'm not sure you quite understand. If you outright lie, dishonor, and label someone on assumptions, that isn't 'integrity.' (The judge threatened to put you in jail for perjury, twice, and I could've made that happen with a few choice sentences, which I did not utter. You do "owe me one" for that.) So there's no 'walk' there. It sounds great, very 'New Age-y,' and all, but I'm not sure you actually get what using that phrase entails. It means you "own up to shit you do/did." It means you quit being a 'fraidy-cat.' It means you make real amends to those you have wronged. It means you do things that you don't want to, because they're the Right Things to do, and your precious feelings don't matter. You have to be 'bigger than yourself' and remain loyal to truth.
And you aren't capable of that, from what I read in that blog. You admitted that you won't do the 'challenging' things. (Confront 'upsets.') But you do 'take responsibility.' Are you a would-be politician, with all the dissembling? Either do - and mean it - or don't, take responsibility. (I expect "don't," because I've become conditioned to that, regarding you.) You would have to spend at least 25 'billable hours' with me to understand my 'beef' with you. And I ain't paying for that. It's your thing. You made the 'weird.' You own that bill.
"Human mirrors" is a phrase that implies a lot, indirectly. It means you can put yourself in someone's shoes, be sympathetic to their plight, and recognize commonalities. We're all human, make mistakes, hurt and get hurt. We all feel emotional pain. Our major difference is that I don't hide from it, or use it as an excuse to be obtuse about things/people. I would never treat someone the way you treated me - estrange them, demonize them, pigeon-hole them, threaten them, deny they ever lived. That's not me. (You probably don't think it's you, but it is. You actually did all those things. Yes, long time ago, you're different now, right? Prove it. Dial the number, write that e-mail.) I'm not going to hold my breath...
The fact that you're a therapist/coach isn't lost here, Beatrix. It's very relevant, actually. You've probably met people who've acquired restraining orders for very legitimate reasons. You probably have spoken with people with real horror stories that they've endured. You probably have met some very fucked-up people that are unwilling 'victims of their circumstances.' People who endured misery.
You aren't one of them. Have you ever had to struggle for survival, for even a tense millisecond of your life?
Nope.
Makes all the difference. 'First World Problems' are all you've ever had to deal with. Ex-boyfriend won't quit calling? Get a restraining order! Old lover won't disappear quietly? Get a restraining order!
Some guy won't quit mentioning you - indirectly - in his blog? Get a restraining order! (Go ahead, I don't care. The first one was useless, an utter waste of the judicial process.)
You abused that system, Beatrix, and you know it. And your close friends, as much as they can admit, know that as well. You cried 'Wolf' when there was no such thing out there. (If you think I may be typing this from a 'place of anger' then you're correct in that assumption.)
"...I seen a rich man beg,
I seen a good man sin
I seen a tough man cry
I seen a loser win
And a sad man grin
I heard an honest man lie
I seen the good side of bad,
And the down-side of up and
Everything between.
I licked the silver spoon,
Drank from the golden cup,
And smoked the finest green.
I stroked the baddest dimes
At least a coupl'a times
Before I broke 'dey heart.
You know where it ends,
Though it usually depends
On where you start."
Everclear's incredible "What It's Like." (Totally appropriate here.)
"Metaphorical grounding rod" is perhaps the most pointed weirdness in that blog. You aren't that spiritual, Beatrix. You sense energies, I'll give you that, but you misinterpret them at times. You probably actually think/believe that you are a sympathetic person, a fair friend, a reliable confidante, a humanist, a genuine human being. Balanced. Educated. Evolved. Grounded. Neutral.
However, you aren't, from my point of view. What you did was psychologically enduring. You found ways to fuck with me that only an enemy could find, or even look for. You found them, and used them. With intent, the flavor of which I can't imagine. You've never admitted those transgressions to anyone, right? Maybe a random therapist or counselor... (Which doesn't count.) A grounding rod is essential, reliable, and infinitely simple. It doesn't carry a grudge for 20-plus years. It doesn't have an opinion. It just does its job. As a 'grounded' therapist, shouldn't you be trying to 'right the wrongs' of the past? Shouldn't you 'fess up to being in the blizzard, at Boulevard Park, leaving Arlington in your Datsun, lying to a judge, and scrawling "Koorsnevar" all over Bellingham's phone interface boxes? Maybe you should feel some tiny iota of remorse about pretending I didn't exist when we'd spent 6 months sharing intense, delicious moments together. Maybe you shouldn't have listened to that advice you got from that circle of misandrous 'fraidy cats.'
E. coli O157:H7 didn't kill me. It tried to, it tried really hard. That grizzled bear in the Grand Tetons didn't kill me. He kinda tried, just wanted food. That car/woman-driver that ran me over (on my rollerblades) didn't kill me in B'ham. She didn't really try... That shooter in Germany didn't kill me. He tried hard to kill me but didn't compensate for the cooler temps. (Putz.) That snowbank in Korea that seemed so comfy didn't kill my drunken ass that night. It tried. My time at Ground Zero hasn't killed me yet, but it eventually will. Toxicity upon poison, with asbestos. Deep in my lungs, I'm sure. It's a creeper.
Good luck killing me, Beatrix. I'll be here 'til the end of time itself. Pushing buttons, planting ideas, fertilizing love and weeding out hate.
The mirror has spoken. There was no wolf. It was all a bad dream. Some day maybe you'll wake up to that 'truism.'
I'm not as mean as you are, so this is an unfair fight. Obstinancy always wins. Thorns are always thorns. And wolves have to pull them from their paws.
