TUESDAY, BUT IT MIGHT AS WELL BE ANY OTHER DAY

TUESDAY MARCH 22, 2011 7:11PM

Just had a two hour nap, not much sleep time, I wish I could get more.

Smoked two cigarettes, and of course, started imagining. And of course,started imagining that bossy guy, and that lady from the queer community, both ready to do their dumb brainwashing.  No matter how many times I tell them, and they are well aware of my total rejection of the gay community, they keep trying to push me into cooperating with them while they force me to sit there and, basically just listen (realize later) to those people.  They know it is just torture to me, since their topic is nothing I'm interested in.  Maybe that guy just drags me here to get crap out of his system. I wonder who is reading the lines they wrote for me to repeat about how wonderful they are, and how liberal I am (all garbage). I'll never live out sister T's phony fantasy of a gay life, and she knows it.  She and her little friends are so criminal.  I'm not even allowed to leave here until, as they put it, "say you're gay."  It's just more of their time-wasting strategy of training me into their way of thinking, and to avoid any real issues.
So, it seems that I'm under arrest, and can't leave until I'm thoroughly brainwashed. Now, as I'm remembering it, it is the time for them to just call out nonsense words and phrases that I'm supposed to associate with, literally.  One about softball or something now, must be T's way of making me think about the time I hit J with a baseball bat thirty seven years ago.
Just saw a flash of light by my mouth.  If these people aren't brainwashing me, then I don't know what brainwashing is.  I probably just recited some pro-gay propaganda they wrote.  Because, as that guy who rounds up these fools to attend his "show" says, that guy's "version of events is the only one that will get out."  He's such a con artist.  He is someone whom I wouldn't even pick as a friend in my life, but he is supposed to call all the shots in my life, down to who and what I'm supposed to think about.  He should be arrested, along with certain members of my family.  Anyone who cooperates with him should be ashamed of themselves.  They are probably people who have something to hide, like being criminals or such, and they're probably threatened, or made to feel like they are, so that they really are forced to play his game.  It sure as hell ain't no therapy.
I think he has some crap written out about how I'm really a girl, woman or whatever he chose.  Not true.  I don't have the mentality of a broad, he must be T's lapdog.  That was my sister T's schtick when I was about eight years old.  She would paint my nails, send me outside to show everybody, as she put it, "what a f**ot you are."  And she was about seventeen or eighteen at the time.  But, of course, he would think that shouldn't be the issue.  I would refer that guy to my earlier posts about KS and her definition of certain sexualities, and the post about T and the store McC.

It always amazes me that the people who caused me problems decades ago are the ones who are in charge of "waking me up."  That's a crime right there.  People wonder why my family is so willing to keep me screwed up (my relatives know this is all a phony game).  It is not because of enlisting or anything, it all has to do with their own crap, see earlier post 1969.

I just heard someone say they had a question.  Now that guy is going to make me answer some pre-planned questions?  Why bother.  They should realize that only that guy's answers are the ones that will come out.  Some snap of fingers, a flash of light, or a motion of his hand, and there I go, spouting out the crap he, or T, wants me to say to appease his audience (I was supposed to say 'guests', like ET, in WAOVW.  He still tries to play out his cover of that play, i.e. using trigger words picked out of the text.  Why doesn't he give up?  He should admit that following my sister T's methods are a failure.  So, obviously, they got people thinking that I can only 'wake up' as a woman.  In the light. A complete opposite of "him".  If he recalls his McC history correctly, I was standing there, after they deliberately freaked me out, instigated because I mentioned something about JN, and F said something like, "He doesn't know."  And I chimed in with, "oh, yes he does."  And yes, I was talking about myself in the third person, and I knew it at the time. And someone shined a flashlight in my face, and asked, "Who are you?"  I said, "MH" (not a separate personality).  And immediately thought the person behind the light of the flashlight was sister, T, and I said, horrified, "YOU!"  Funny how her name became a curse word in the family long before 1985.  If any of us got out of line, my mom would point her finger at us and say, "You T____."  It became literal with me while I was freaking out when they put me under.  It's kind of funny, but they have to play up this phony 'be a woman' thing, keep me at that YOU T___ point to cover their asses.  And as for being jealous of sister G?  When she was about twelve, and I was two years younger, she started to get different Xmas presents, grown-up things.  We usually each got some clothes and the games, etc. were both of ours.  But I wanted what she got, even the prissy watches, etc.  But not the dresses, and I refer you to my "IS MY SLIP SHOWING" post. So much for girly things.  I guess that's why KS, while reading a profile out of  me at AN's house, came to the "have you ever thought of being a woman, wouldn't you want to be a woman, even if it was just a day, or even a minute..." and on and on.

They claim I'm so sick, they even have to think for me.  And think for me as if it were 1985 all over, that was the year they started this brainwashing.  And I'm supposed to be their newly re-modeled queer.  What a bunch of garbage.  It's time for them to cram their watches up their collective ass.

One more thought about the gays.  Those two, that guy and woman, and probably T, are playing that community for such fools.  They know I don't accept that crap they already have that community.  The gays probably are buying the "he has no idea that he's really a broad, just don't mention it to him." They should look at this lunacy for what it is--a cover, a red herring to keep everyone hammering at an issue they created, and not going near the real issue they were really involved in.  The gays seem to be easily blind-sided.

EVERYONE IS STUCK IN A THEIR OWN RUT NOW

Just went through a week without the internet, the phone lines went dead.  It took the phone company over a week to get them running again, but I don't think they'll give any rebate on the week without a phone, let alone the money I lost not being able to do my data entry job.  Other than that, it was pretty normal at the other job, no great revelations or any interference from the imagination.

Had a lot of thoughts about that lady from the office.  Just before I went to sleep a few days ago, I saw her, with my eyes closed but I was still awake.  She had a butcher knife, got in my face and said, "When we f**k people up, they  stay f**ked up."  She mock jabbed me with the knife at the last word.  I wasn't afraid of her at all, I think she's kind of new at this "screw him over" charade. I have good reason to believe that it is X's daughter, CC.

At first I thought she was referring to my sister J as the one who should "stay f**ked up", but when the knife came out, I figured she was trying to threaten me, she sure doesn't like it since I started blogging.  I got the feeling that she was protecting J, was maybe her blackmailer, lawyer, or shrink.  I don't know for real if J has any of the above, and I don't care to think about it.  I think she might be passing herself off as my lawyer, she keeps trying to overwrite some old imprints of mine, or getting my first reaction to some things updated.  I think she gets pretty annoyed when I try to tell her that I'm not changing my first impression of some things, and I wonder if she can force it like that guy does.

That guy is up to the same old crap, and I just don't know why he doesn't get tired of his own s**t.  It's the same old thing with him, get me to just sit around and he gets the gays to harass me.  It is harassment, I would not ever go near those people, or any of their sympathizers.  But there they are, the one old lady who insists that everything in my life just has to be viewed through their tunnelvision-like view of the world.  And the guy just stands there, using them as a weapon of harassment, and they probably don't even realize it. He lies to them about what I want, and tells me that all I have to do is apologize to them.  Never.  I don't even agree with those people on much of anything, and he's just leading them down the road of "you people have to help him." There's nothing to apologize about, I have the right to think what I want without being punished.  I just wonder what lies behind his insistance that I apologize to them or T, and on and on.  I think he's trying to get me to the "you hurt somebody so now assume the position of suicide, like you did in 1985."  When he puts me there, it's when he engineers his psychodramas and plays with people.

Sister T came through for a little while.  She did the other day too, when I was doing a crossword puzzle, filled in an answer, and she chimes in with her rah-rah cheering bull.  I get so irritated at their phony cheering on, but I just laugh at them.  They shouldn't even be in my thoughts.  But there T is, droning on, reading some directions for what to think and do later, none of it is helpful at all.  And she'll jump in with intrusive thoughts while I'm trying to tell other people to go bug off.  What a dead end all these people are going down.  I'm not changing any of the past, and they keep trying to tell others that my memories are either false or never existed at all.  They only keep me quiet, and insist that they have to speak for me but it's really because they are afraid of what I can say about them.  Despite the mind games they play on me, they must not have their crap covered as well as I thought they did, or else they wouldn't keep the psychological harassment going.

KS made a cameo appearance today.  Haven't thought of her in a while.  She was saying that she had the last say on who I truly am, but she can't wake up the real me (or what she claims is the real me) because that would be giving herself away as the interrogator that she was in 1985.  She was the one I met at AN's
house in 1985, asked me all sorts of questions while I was asleep, and the one I tried to shoot at that grocery store during the 'great freak out', which everyone denies happened because they staged it in the first place.

They each have their own little 'job' they have to do on me.  The lady, who I got the feeling is the daughter of an aunt and uncle of mine, just wants to protect the interests of my relatives and their friends.  But she does this by bitching at me privately and then playing nice when she has an audience.  Trying to change what I know of the past is definitely the wrong way to go, and that is basically what she's trying to do.

That guy, who was at the 'great freak out' is just trying to play out the important points that played out at the store in 1985.  I have to do some things for him that verifies what I said or did back then.  The way it was supposed to end in 1985 was that I was to be arrested for something, child molesting or some such crap.  But when I put my fingergun to my head back then, it really put a kink in their plans.  So, I thing he's just left with trying to force me to accept some screwy kind of gay he has in mind, and to explain where the "he wakes up when he gets called a child molestor" comes from.  Neither is happening--no gay life for me and no child molesting to explain, either.

I know none of what I thought or did in 1985 matters to me anymore, but since they chose those imprints at the time, they have to play them out, or get me to 'confront' them now.  Does it really do any good?  If I'm not agreeing with them now, i.e. verifying them these days, how can they be important at all?  It's only important to them, to justify the tactics they used then and now.  I'm only guessing when I think that they want me to verify those imprints I have from back then so they can match them up with imprints that other people have.  And as long as I don't cooperate in verifying, they use the imprints as some sort of block, harassment, or excuse in not letting me rest.  They just keep up the psychological harassment, the remember this, remember that, think this now, remember later, etc.

And if I did give them what they want, what happens then?  "Just another confessed so-and-so" is what they'll say and, of course they never tortured me for twenty-six years, because, as the saying goes, "It was all in his head."  That guy still keeps the "he's really a woman" thing as something for show when he has an audience.  And it's just his cover, that if I did agree with him in a totally unrelated matter, he'll make it look like I'm agreeing with his theory of 'he's a broad'.  He's probably dumb enough to try to prove to his audience that I go into suicide mode because of his "woman" excuse, when it really was because I took the opportunity to shoot KS, in my freak out at the store.  So, along with so much other stuff that can't be talked about, it's just all in my head, as their favorite saying goes.

I think my sister T is the one who keeps throwing obstacles in those other people's way, with her interference and her never ending, "No, he's not shaped up enough to be let alone."  They don't realize that she isn't protecting me, she's protecting someone else.  The most preposterous thing I've heard from anyone lately has come from her.  Today, she said, "I want him in a relationship."  What an ass.  A relationship is something that I wouldn't even remotely consider, would just be something for them to play with, and how creepy is it that she, sister T, is so interested in my sex and personal life?  Wacko.

LIGHTS

I recalled an experience from 1986 when I tried to join the military.  I tried to join them so that I could get away from all these weird things. I was accepted, and was ready to go in April 1986.  And one morning my sister, G, woke me up and said the military had called and they wanted me to go right then.  I hurried out and her and her husband drove me to the recruiting center.  They were driving really fast, screeched to a stop, I got out and went to the building.  No one said anything.

As it turned out, the guy behind the desk said that I was early by a day, but after a few minutes, they told me I could go to the induction center thirty miles away with three other men.  Everything looked different, the desks were rearranged from the last time I was there, they could have remodeled, but all the people were different.

So, three other guys and myself went thirty miles to the induction center.  It took five hours, and I don't think we stopped anywhere.  Way too long for a thirty mile drive.  No one spoke during the ride, but I heard so much noise in my head, I hadn't heard for a long time.  I heard cruching sounds in my ear, like someone was eating potato chips right next to my ear. And a cuckoo clock, I think.

I didn't get far into the process when I cracked up and ended up at some doctor's office.  But looking back at it now, it wasn't any normal treatment.  They made me read a list of statements of the fill in the blank sort.  I started to read the first question, "Sometimes I .."  They said to read them aloud.  "Sometimes I get so mad, I could _________."  I stopped reading, and said, "No, that's not my thought." The blank was filled in with "I could kill someone."  The second statement was "I'm so hungry I could eat a _________."  It was "a horse."  I laughed and said, "Are the rest of these this easy?"  There was doctor in shirt and tie, and a nurse, I assume, but dressed in street clothes.  We skipped the rest of the statements, and the nurse read the last one to me.  "Only you can ..." She pointed at me with a pen, or maybe just her finger, I immediately looked to my right, I don't think she directed me to look in that direction, and said, or thought, "fill in the blanks."  I sort of laughed.

The next thing I remember was sitting in a chair, and a skinny woman in dark clothes stood in front of me, and opened some sort of wallet or credit card holder, and I looked to my left once, then to my right once, then straight ahead, just in time to see her slap this wallet thing closed, shake her head and say, "He'll never figure it out."

Recently, I thought about that while these 'imaginary' people were doing their interrogation.  I'm sitting in some auditorium-like room, the sort that you find in a college classroom.  I'm seated in the middle, about a third of the way to the back of the room, elevated from the floor a bit, like it had stadium seating.  Directly in front of me is something like a large pad of brown paper, hanging on the wall.  Next to this pad is a simple wooden chair, with some guy sitting in it, I assume he's a psychologist.  To my right, are seated some people, sometimes family members or strangers.  To my left, built into the wall, and placed up high toward the ceiling, is a room with a large glass window looking overlooking the seating area.  On the lower level, also on my left, is an opening, I imagine it's some short hallway that leads to an office where the lady who is in charge, but she only comes out sometimes to shut people up.

So, I have to sit there, and listen to that phony psychiatrist, not the one who sits in the chair by the pad of brown paper, while he tells the audience, to my right, things about me, and what answers I give.  But I know that he's telling them things that I don't agree with, but I can't answer.  If I do answer, I can tell he edits the answers to 'prove his point.'  And he walks around, dressed in a camo-like uniform, waving his papers at me, saying to sign the paper, it says that I gave him permission to start this interrogation thing.  Or he'll say things like, "Just admit your gay," over and over.  And the, "Just apologize to your sister, T."

So, one time a few weeks ago, I told him I didn't want to cooperate, and told him to stop lying, etc.  So, I think I told him that I could fix my own problems, because I knew better than he where I should go (where in my past some answer might be).  So, I thought about that experience I had at the doctor's office in 1986, relaxed and thought about the part where the woman in dark clothes said, "He'll never figure it out." So, I relaxed a bit, and shortly, I pictured the event in my mind (I usually have my eyes closed when I do these type things) and in a few minutes, despite that phony psychiatrist and others, I think, telling me it's nonsense what I was doing, I started that event over, beginning at just before the woman crossed in front of me.  I had done the same thing many times the past twenty six years, and it was always the same.  Look to the left, to the right, and then straight ahead.  But this time, it was different.  I looked to my left three times (to the left,ahead,left,ahead,left) and for the first time, I saw a face looking at me, just a face, nothing of what kind of hair, or shoulders, and it was made up in gaudy make-up, and some dangling earrings, and it blew me a kiss, like mocking me, a kiss like, "ha ha sucker."  Then I looked to my right, and came back to look down the center, where a doctor was standing behind a desk.  He was tall and had thinning hair.

It was the first time I realized that I was looking to my left three times, and the first time I saw a face.  I thought it was me, that they had dressed me up, and I also thought of my sister T when it blew me a kiss, or I blew myself a kiss. I realized that when I looked to the right, I thought of my sister G. The doctor in front of me said, or I might have been told, that to the left was the past, right was the future, and straight ahead was the present.  He pointed to the right and left at the same time and said, "See, they're both the same thing."

I sat there, in the auditorium-like room, and looked around, from left to right, without jerking as it was the times before.  They asked me what just happened, I didn't explain it.

Lately that phony psychiatrist guy has been telling me things like to go fishing.  I heard this several time the past few weeks.  The first thought I had about that was seeing a kid fishing at a lake near where someone my parents knew.  I saw the kid, must have been about thirteen or twelve, catch a fish, and instead of releasing it, just pound it against a rock.  It was disgusting.  Since I hear about going fishing lately, I assume, and I'm probably right, that they see this 'fishing' and trying to pass it off as my 'fishing.'  Funny, fish was a code word for pot back in the 80's with some people I knew.

The other thing I've thought of yesterday, or so, was when I sat in a room, in 1986, looking at a doorway with a curtain, some tall guy came out, held a pipe above my mom's head, I saw a flash of light, and immediately pointed, and shot. An imaginary gun, or a rea gun, I don't know.  Then some guy next to me asked, "Do you know (or, did you see) what W2 did?" and "What do you think of that?"  "I don't want to hurt anyone," I said.

I have thought of this many times since 1986, but yesterday was the first time that this continued on.  Immediately after I said, "I don't want to hurt anyone," a man sitting next to me started reading and quickly said, "Then why did you say, 'why don't you...whore...take it back to...I wish you were never born."  I immediately knew where this came from and what kind of trick this was. It wasn't a yes or no question to begin with, so I didn't answer immediately, for once.  And I knew it was the words of two people put together.  It was from May 1984, and I was one of those two people.  My sister J had a baby in May 1984, and came back home from living with the man she was living with.  She didn't like it, I didn't like it (for two good, valid reasons I will not go into).  I said the first part, admittedly I should have used different words, but I could not give anyone the reasons why she should go (it has nothing to do with anything about myself).  My sister said the last part, "I wish...." while looking at the baby.

Since this time was the first time I was given two speaker's lines put together, it is their old trick of trying to pin onto me other person's crap.  The fish beating? Something I saw, make me act it out, and there you are! that's his "fishing" they'll say, and they'll get J to agree to it, because she was there, too.  "Broil or Bake?"  someone else's comment about news story (some guy cut his kid's head off and cooked it on the oven) Not my comment. "How dare you stick your weenie in my window?" Not my comment, but people were playing it to me as a 'complete the sentence' test or association.  "I want to be a lady for once!"  Not my comment.  Since the phoney shrink has been going around too many times lately trying to change things up, insist that things in my 1969 post were done by my parents instead of other parents, and that his "version" of events will be the only version that will come out, it is way past time to respond.  Yes, I know, even in real life, if someone wants to deny something they have said to me, they can always, and I'm sure they do, say, "You know he's crazy and hears things."  The same tactic goes on there, in that auditorium-like room.  If you need whitewashing, blame it on W.  And trying to prove a "faulty memory" with such inane things?   Welcome to my worlds.

And in that auditorium, in the room with the glass window, T looks down, and shouts directions, "think this" "think that" snaps and pops to stop and edit what I want to say.  And J, up there, and at home, calling out directions, who I have to 'be' when I get to the warehouse to work every night, what to do when I see someone, one of the managers or whatever they cook up to make me look like a fool.  Because, you should just sit there and say nothing while they "speak" for me.  Edit this blog, they can't.  But they sure make it certain that I'll have trouble typing, hit the y key three times, write the name of the manager you like the most, and the "T! T!" so my left arm drops.  And it is mostly J doing this, giving out commands that are to say the least, not helpful.

They are not my friends, and never were.

Now J is telling me to pull my hair out, and it doesn't happen, so, of course, she's trying to prove she can't do it.  Pull your head off, say your name...I'm hearing these commands as I'm typing now.  I can only imagine how many times J has pulled out her watch as she did in 1985, in my room in the middle of the night, cause trouble, a provoked phone call, all to get people to try to help get me commited.  She's probably proved she can show the real W to them.  It should stop with the curses.

When that guy asked me "Then why did you say.....I wish you were never born,"  I didn't answer.  I'm already screwed up for life.  why not let her stick more onto me?  I've already been slandered, and become a walking sight gag.  But to put, so obviously,....

(Be G? J said just now.  I'm sure they're pretending to have a conversation that allegedly doesn't have anything to with me, but so obvious she's giving me the 'people to be later'  Telephone? Is she getting rid of the telephone command that makes me call somebody or let somebody hold a phone to my mouth while I rant?)

....two speaker's lines together to take some burden off of somebody else?

Now look, some lady is telling me to think about Cl. or Kl, exactly which one?  After all, she just told me that they call the 'shots' and when she says jump, then...I told her I won't jump. I'm sure she meant the slapping Kl.  She's telling me to take that name off or she won't let me sleep.  It's been sleep deprivation day quite often lately.  She's shouting "all those things are absolutely.... and J is supposed to agree.  However, she probably said, absolutely false, I didn't hear 'false' and she's going on a rampage telling me to "can you prove it (that I didn't hear false).  And she runs down front and says, "this is her part, and..."  I'm busy typing, and you are too devious.

She told me television, (which is tv, to transvestite) or nothing.  She means that she is giving me a choice.  I either play the crazy transvestite wanna-be, or don't wake up at all. "Was it watch tv or nothing",   (don't look so innocent, sweetie, they know you can do things to them, too. Don't kid yourself.)
So, what did she do? Am I now a flouncy little thing? blind? what?  She just said "arrest him".  I'm not supposed to edit their scenes that they put on for the audience.

Is she asking for commands to shout at me?
Am I reciting some lines someone wrote?  T is asking the usual question 'who are you?' Not you, see previous posts.  I find the 'seig heil' curse words quite rude.
The 'whistling' click click
I met saw a woman, after I closed my eyes to try to get some sleep.  She got in my face and said, "When we f**k somebody up, they stay f**ked."  She had a big knife, and shoved it in my gut for pretend.  She's so subtle.  Looked really familiar.

T, or someone in the glass room upstairs, said "take your weiner out."
She's giving me one more chance, "Tv or death?"  Neither, you must be the one who is dreaming if you think you are scaring me.  After twenty six years, it is obvious now who is creating this charade.  Wake up, is that what people want to hear from me, so they can all act like they are victims of me?
T, of course, is thinking right now, "should I say 'who are you?'"
Someone said, "Is that your woman?"  Is it directed toward me or someone else?  And am I supposed to answer as if I have a "woman" that has to get out?  Just want to be a tranny so bad, or else I'll kill myself?  No, no woman wanna-be, here, and no, that's not saying "then your so complete!"

Stop playing games, everyone.  What are you trying to explain away by putting so much dirt on me? And I'm not dead, either.

1969

I've had so many thoughts about a family I once knew and considering those thoughts have consumed much of my time, and considering the importance of some events, these thoughts must be included here.

Close friends of the family, from the old country, that we visited often.  For the past twenty six years, I've been hearing them, giving commands while I'm trying to work, using unfinished ambiguities such as "The next time you get a package,..." then CC, the daughter in the family, about my age, points at me to finish the command, and I did with "..f**k you."  I've gotten used to CC and her brother FF doing this to me for so long that I just say swear words to them, anyway.

But they have been going on a rampage lately, not unnoticed by the other harassers, I'm sure. CC is especially vicious.  And I had thoughts that certain events that apply to all of us are being rewritten and the rewrites are the ones I am, to put it mildly, going to forcibly agree with if I don't speak up in this way, the only way that doesn't get filtered and edited.  But, seeing that they have been scheduling, timing, posting, waking up imprints anyway, I am not taking the chance that their lies will be the last word.

The last time I saw the mother of the group was about 2007.  She came over with a friend and visited with my mother.  I was outside working, and looked for the dog.  Couldn't find him, so I asked if the dog was inside.  My mom said he wasn't.  So, I searched everywhere for about fifteen minutes, then asked again.  My mom said to keep looking. And I did. Then I came in and saw the dog in the house.  I asked where had been.  My mom said that she told me he was in the house.  I couldn't even get the words 'no, you didn't' out of my mouth before the other lady who was visiting, immediately chimed in, "yes, yes she did. I heard her say it."  Total lies from them all.  But that was how things went when those certain people visited.  When I was thirteen, I walked into the kitchen, just in time to hear my mother saying, "Don't ever say anything nice about black people in front of W(me).  He just can't stand.."  I, for once, told her to speak for herself.  And then the usual patronizing from her of, "Ooooh ja, you right, you right."  And the wink and nod my mother had to give them, as just play along with him.  Slandered.  That's the way my mother was trained by someone, she's always the first to bad mouth her own kids.

Now, to go back to 1969 at the other family's house the parents and the two sets of three children. Me, my sister G, and the other kids CC and her brother FF.
other dad-ripped out his own son's (FF's) hair
other mother-gave mother a haircut, literally
me-forced to put on g's dress by other dad because, he said, that's what women do
other dad-beat CC his daughter, with belt, made me watch, CC stayed under the covers, other dad asked me 'should I give her another one' other dad clicked lights off and on a few times, told me a few times that the same will happen to me
dad-woke up once, told other dad, before he took me upstairs to watch the beating, that other dad can hit his own kids all he wants, but to keep his hands off of his (my dad's) kids. Other dad didn't hit anyone else.
mom-got a hair cut and a yelling at
me-sitting on couch, saw other mom just sitting there, drunk as hell, I think she peed herself, but I just started laughing (and so did my mom, I think)
other mother-went ballistic, to say the least. She charged at me, screamed at my mom, "how would you like it if someone did that to your kid?" Then she told me to watch TV, and she orally raped me.

At some point, there was one of other mom's kids sitting on the stairs watching through the railings what was going on in the living room. It was FF and when he giggled while his mother was raping me, she went crazy.

Other parents made CC come back downstairs to play a game called Huskerdu, and to play nice.  Every once in a while, she'd look at me and tell me that she hates me. Other parents told her to shut up, and on top of that, they told the other kids to let me win.

Since it was so late, and they probably got my dad so drunk, they had to call one of my uncles (not sure which one, but there is one who, to this day, still visits those people, so probably him) to come and drive us home. We had to have one of my uncles (not the one who probably picked us up the night before) drive us back to their house the next day to pick up the car. My mom took some of our books, gave them to the other kids. Heard them say CC had doctor's excuse to be out of school because she had the "whipping" cough, and, to me, "you don't want that to happen to you, do you?" What a bitch.

I remember being over at that house one time a little while later when CC's cousins were there. A couple of girls who were the daughters of X's brother. I hadn't seen them often. CC herded them into her room, telling me to stay out. A while later, they came out and those two girls were just staring at me. Thinking about it now, CC must have been spreading her version of events long ago. Her mom probably encourged it. After all, the bigger their lies are, the less chance there is (and was) that they would never come around to the part where her mother turns into a rapist. If CC even knows about that.

I remember those other parents occasionally brought CC and her brother FF over to our house only a few times after that. CC had this habit of killing our turtles. She would press down on their shells, more than once, and the next day the turtles would be dead. We bought a couple more turtles after the first time, and she did the same thing. Press on their shells, then do it again after a few minutes, and again they were dead the next day. X said, in front of everyone, "she has mental problems." They stopped bringing her over after that.

1973 or so--
Years later, when I was about thirteen, the other family visited us along with their son who must have been about seven.  He was standing on a wall in a parking lot, and spit at me.  Right in the mouth.  So I grabbed him, dragged him into the house, threw him on the floor, and told the parents what he did.  X said that I had a lot to learn about being a host and how to treat guests. I said FF had a lot to learn about being a guest.  Considering all of the above, I decided not to take her advice.

1972 or so--
Other dad and other mom visited, and took sister J with them to spend the night over the other people's house.  My dad had to go over there and pick her up at about two in the morning.  She was hysterical, crying bad.  The only thing she said about being over there was that she got to type.
Scary thoughts, considering everything.

Stoebermann
1986-
I was working at a gas station with someone who turned out to be FF's friend. I hadn't seen FF since about 1973. I should have known something was up when the coworker said to me, "Somebody told me to call you B (my nickname from when I was little)." I said, "Sounds like somebody has their head up their ass." It must have been FF, because he showed up at the gas station when I was working with his friend. That's when I found out they knew each other. So, FF passed the coworker a note, and asked me what my nationality was. It would have been a strange question to come out of the blue, if it weren't for the fact that FF was there, and prompted the guy to ask me. I hesitated to answer, then FF jumped in with "Hungarian." It was the first in the attempts of the "I helped you, so now you owe me" tactics, which they still try to use. I don't ask for their help, I wish they would leave me alone.

That was probably the same night his coworker and I went to somebody's outdoor party, don't know where. I just sat around saying nothing like I usually do. This was also the year that FF got arrested for dealing coke. It was probably crack, but since he's white they wrote it up as coke instead.


1999--
After my dad died in 1999, the two parents were visiting my mom.  When I walked into the kitchen, I didn't know what they were talking about, but other dad suddenly turned to me and said, "Yeah, your father would know how to take of people like that, ain't that right."  I didn't say anything--no use, I gave him a good glare, though.  And I knew what he was doing, dead and gone, so pile on the slander.  My father smacked me a few times, both for lying, ironically--lying is what other dad's good at--and teasing, but he never touched anybody else's kids.  I wonder where the line "And didn't your father have a lot of pornography in the house when you were growing up?" came from the time I woke up in front of a computer to find out that it was some kind of chat about child molestation. I actually got to type in, they actually let me type in that "no, he didn't and it was so, so sick of them to start that kind of talk," and I got up and left.  That phony psychiatrist is the one who is spreading rewrites and lies.

1994--woke up in a large room, brown carpeting, one step in the middle up to a bar along the other side.  I wondered why I was there, and to wake me up and to be allowed to remember was different, too.  So, I wondered where I was.  Thought of being on a house boat. ? And I remembered standing in the usual way they liked to get me in, gun to my head, and I saw FF walk up to me, kind of shake his head, and took the gun from the side of my head and put it in my mouth, pointed upwards a little. His mom shouted at him, she knows he just created an imprint.

I laughed my ass off because, yeah, doing it that way would take out your brain stem.
I guess he thought he was helping, but it makes me wonder how many times someone dragged me over to her house for her to create a bunch of imprints and out and out garbage on me while I was sleeping.
A few months ago, after I started answering back to these people -- in my imagination, as they love to put it -- I remember hearing a few lines from CC saying how it was my dad who whipped her ass in her bedroom. Evidently, her mother forces even them to lie. That's her mother's biggest mistake. She forces out lies, rewrites, conversations cut and pasted from things out of the blue. Instead of just saying nothing, she has to force phony rewrites and lies.

All the damn harrassment from those people comes down to covering that mother's ass so no one would believe me or anyone else who told the truth about that night at her house. She's a rapist who is still victimizing her victim, and rounds up a lot of people helping her to do that. It's all about covering her ass, whether they know it or not.

I haven't seen, for real, those two kids for many years.  I was at other mom's house the day before I was to go to the military.  And that was something else, too.

CLASSIC TACTICS

The biggest lie they use to get you to cooperate with them is the "We are helping you. This is a special way of treating you. The other option is that you will go to jail because you are a criminal." By cooperation, I mean they only give you choices that serve their purpose, saying "NO" or rejecting all the so-call options they give you is never acceptable to them. By criminal, I mean they will use the worst accusation against you, and that is that "you are a child abuser and we have proof, so just cooperate and follow our directions."


That has been used against me for years. I am not a molestor, not even close. For example, late last year, as I was listening to their brainwashing that runs through my mind while I'm awake, and usually at work, I kept imagining that I was having a conversation with a kid, early teens, I guess. Nothing important was talked about, but after relentlessly being forced to listen to these conversations, and knowing that now they are using kids in their harassment, I paused, and thought to myself (which would have been heard by whoever was monitoring me) that I got to let those people know that I know it is nothing but a form of harassment against me, and if I said something outrageous, they would have to come forward and show themselves. So I came on to the kid, and sure enough, along came the ones who orchestrate these phoney scenarios, and now they had to explain themselves.

The first thing I said after that was, "who is holding the phone to my head. I don't contact people in anyway, phone or otherwise, and I always start the remembering after the conversations are already started. So I put an end to it, and what are they going to do? Arrest me for thinking? How are they going to explain it to the dupes they always find to "help me"? It is just an endless replay of the incident at the store in 1985, get me freaked out, then put me somewhere so they can "test" me.

So, according to them, that was an admission of my being a child molestor. Hardly. I will screw up their tests any way I can. But, I found myself sitting in front of a computer, and when the words child molester came up, I woke up and didn't follow their "scripted" scenario. There was a woman to my left, watching what I was reading, I don't think that I was typing anything. And there was a younger woman sitting to my right at her own computer. So the woman next to me typed in with, "Wasn't your father into pornography?" I told her that these lies are getting sick, and at one point, the typist stood up and said she didn't want to continue, and some man ordered her to go on, that it was her job. I am assuming they were some kind of police.

So, I got pissed, it has been nothing but "you are a child molestor (not), your father had pornography everywhere (not), and we found this box of sex toys in your room (not)." So I got up, it turns out I was in somebody's house, and passed by some guys who were sitting in a hallway, just looking at me. And there was the same guy who has been orchestrating harassment against me for a long time. He and I paused before we got to the hallway, and he pointed to a negative hallucination of a woman showing off a fur coat, and kept asking to associate with it, as in what does that mean to you? (one of the ultimate time-wasting questions) So, it was an overweight woman, showing off a fur coat. Who cares? But that's not good enough for that guy, the answer has to be something other than what it is. And it wasn't until I thought of the girl in the sixth grade who had a big furry coat, did I win the special prize of "now you got the idea that I want to put in your head" and you win the right to move now. Yes, a forty year old association with a fur coat. Never mind that I was just subjected to being called a child molestor, my dead father slandered by someone who never knew him, and all he wants is for me to relate to something as a ten year old. It's only to keep me on his leash. He is a criminal.


That lady who always says she's looking for answers tells me that I should get off of T's case, that T doesn't know.  She said it is just them (she and others) playing out my worst fears.  That's brainwashing and harassment, I told her.  Of course, she would deny it, she's a criminal.
No sense in getting fixed up after 26 years, way too late.  After all the training of...god knows what.  Like the guy said, "only my version is coming out."  Brainwashing.  They take me to some phony doctor while I'm asleep, tell the doctor to "treat the personality of the child molestor, the woman, the violent one, .....take your pick."  Then they take me back to where they took me from, and if they want to, they'll say, "remember this or that"  and I go through the day remembering what went on, and as always, it's only in your head, they'll say.  when I started to blog, I heard a lot of "just sign this paper, saying you agreed to it from the start."  I refuse, how can I sign something knowing I'm asleep.  I told them to send a copy of it to my house, in the mail, I'll get it that way.  then it's the old , well its here right now.  and the "all you have to do is apologize to T" and "shouldn't you apologize to the gay community"  no and no.  I have nothing to do with either, but that makes it a sure thing that those things will be all I'll be hearing every f**king day.  they got desperate when I put cameras in the house, and they can't walk in and out like they always did, and they had to move their harassment to stores, work, and that's about all the places I go.  the big push for them has been "you have to admit that you are gay."  what's the real deal about that I do not know, there is usually some unrelated crap that I suddenly remember when I even think of admitting to some things.
or is it that when I 'go gay' it's just going to make that trash about dressing up be my new version of gay, courtesy of those three?  They are professional harassers.

Multiples are bull. No such thing

even by the old definition--a personality form from trauma usually at an early age, that PERSISTS FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME, AND THROUGH MANY YEARS.

Any shrink can create something, and pass it off as a personality.  And, all my so-called personalities are imitations, imitations of imitations, some of the porn films they showed me, pictures of people I do not know, taking an event from my past, and the ever popular "imagine that"...

like in the nineties it was their thing take a film star, and "oh, you know him.  he knows you, act like you know him, pretend you are talking to him.  and more than once, you are visiting him...and in the end, when they say 'wake up (such and such person), i look around, and there i am, and there are other people , real people by the way, and they have some video of me acting like a fool, and they have soooooooooo much proof of "we have to keep him this way, because for some reason, w can't wake up, because we put him in a contrived child molesting thing and he knows that if he wakes up, it's going to be right where we want him (and put him there in the first place)  It's the all time favorite threat for their kind (harassers)--your a child molestor and a homosexual.

Think now, remember later...HOW do you want to remember this?  when you light up a cigarette, when you eat, when you take a bath, when you shave, no matter,,,it's all torture.  and of course, they let you pick the torture, saying no is never an option.

ANOTHER DAY

I started adding this blog to several blog services.  Leave comments if you want.

Well, my imagination's getting active today, filled with a lot of nonsense questions I'm supposed to think about.  Of course, it's still just the same--cooperate or we will just scream at you all day, telling me to forget this, forget that, don't blog about their "special treatment," and saying they won't wake me up because I'm blogging.  They put images in my head of my sister J, trying to make me go on a guilt trip.  And of course, older sister T just keeps asking questions like "how old are you" and a lot of sexual remarks like using the unfinished ambiguity of "I would to _______."  And the personality T created finishes with something sexual.  Oh well.

Still the big lie, that they are helping me.  They said that I can't wake up because they need to keep some secret that MH is supposed to be dead.  I know they aren't with me as I'm typing this, but they must have known that I'm blogging before I even started.  One of them, she's a large woman, shoulder length hair, who says that I have to keep things the way they are with me just sitting around while they look through some "case" they have going and oooooh all the hard work she's done for twenty six years.

Then they play the terrorists that they are, and unashamedly I must say.  The usual curse words that I'm supposed to react to later at stores or wherever they want to embarass me.  And the flashes of light that, when they come around at work or wherever, I'm supposed to look at the light and recite some garbage that T recited to me earlier.  I think they might be making me look like I'm talking to spirits or something.  You'll always mess up, someone just said.  Yes, because look who is involved, and it's just the never-ending test that won't get passed. And the old look at how somebody else is doing somethin, like walking or something, and they'll say copy that.  And the literal, associating robot that I am, I probably do.

T is really active today, and they all are just frenzied.  Using the intrusive thought tactic a lot today.  And they said that I'll never be through, because I still get mad, don't cooperate, etc.

Now they're using my sister J a lot today, and the children of my mom's friend that we haven't seen for a long time.

Here's a good intrusive thought I had just now.  Somebody said "you are my support system."  More garbage that this is some kind of help.

Here they go with making up some personalities that Fatso can call up anywhere when they want to make me look stupid on public.  I heard someone ask, "How many joints do you smoke?"  And someone answered, "I smoke five (joints an hour)"  They wanted this personality (acted like R, the woman at the warehouse that Fatso was talking to last year).  I was supposed to answer five joints a day, but when I recognized a fill in the blank type of brainwashing, I had to change it to five in an hour.  How preposterous is that?  Who can smoke five of anything in an hour?  And Fatso is so quick with the flash of light, that the exaggerated answer went over his head.

Fatso was at the warehouse, only imagined or real, it don't matter, and he's standing there, staring at me, saying "I'm going to make you break," etc. So, his punishment for me because I'm blogging is, and I quote, "Now everything looks like T."  He still thinks he's putting a combination guilt trip and terror tactic on me.  But, considering he tries to make me into some literal half man half woman thing because  "oooooooh, he just hated his sister so much that he became her!"  Sounds so cliche, it is the last ten minutes of the movie "Psycho" and he looks so ridiculous when he acts like that psychobabbler.

Just heard sounds like "on the second day..."  Some lady was reading me the recovery stage of a fake stroke I'm supposed to get over in a few days.  Just like T had.  It's so funny, Fatso flashes a light, then growls, "Now everything looks like T", and then when I think about T, he throws up his arms and says, for his audience, "Oh everything's about T, that's all we ever hear."  What a phony piece of work.  He's on a mission of revenge for her, and I'm supposed to be the one who's constantly thinking of her.  But only when he brings her up, or if she starts her,"he's not ready yet."

It must really gall his ass that he can't drive me to suicide in real time, just in imaginary time, and that was the time he drove me to it.  Oh well.  Anyone who wants to drive someone to suicide is nuts.  Not to mention that it's illegal and psychological terror.  He's turning into a T himself, he wants me castrated like she always wanted.  They use her as a weapon, an excuse to show off what they did at McC's.

I remember when I went to the military, and he said, even back then, that it will be his version of events that will come out.  He just wants me to lie and say that I was a willing participant in helping him (in 1985 even before the McC thing).

And now, I'm imagining my sister (or did he tell me to mistake her for R from the warehouse) saying to the office, warehouse managers, "I have no excuse for ... behavior."  I guess I'm supposed to repeat that sometime later, or some pre-programming for when I get fired or something.

Brainwashing is his game, and as every where else he harasses me, he uses the tactic of telling people that I'm nothing but a child molester.  No, I made fun of him years ago about his job, when his dupe asked me if I knew cops, and I guess he didn't like the answer he got.  Just a personal vendetta.  The fact is, I wouldn't even be thinking about him if he didn't come around me or stalk me.  What an endless vicious cycle he started--"Here I am..Don't even think of me...Here I am again to remind you to not think of me..."  And he's so crazed that he says, 'You can look for F all you want.."  I mean really, who cares.  Never looked for her anyway.  I think he might have been a dupe himself at some point for someone, because he sure does sound irrational.  I feel bad for the people he's using, they're going to have to put up with tyranny when he doesn't get what he wants, if Fatso is the same person I'm thinking of.

I know that they are still looking for incidents in my so-called life that I have to spontaneously, all on my own.  I'm guessing, since he always shows up at certain times, that he has some list of answers that I gave in some Q&A decades ago, and has to follow the list, getting me to verify the answers.  It's just too pat that when some certain things come up, they're smugly satisfied and shift to another subject that has to be the number one focus of harassment.  Like plowing through the child molester thingy then straight on to the "now he has to say he's gay."  It's pretty hilarious, he marches all these gay dupes he has and I'm forced to listen to them call me she, and isn't she pretty, and on and on.  Maybe Fatso has a tv fetish, I don't know. Check his panties. Ha.

Just for the record, so everyone isn't totally duped, I had not seen or spoked with my sister T for almost ten years from the time she moved out of state to when I saw her in 1985.  Yes, I mentioned her again.  So shoot me.  And another thing, the finish the sentence thought they throw out pretty often lately, that comes from the movie "Tarantula" about a giant spider that crawled over some house.  When my sister T saw that, she laughed and said, "How dare you stick your weenie in my window."  Sorry Fatso, that was the real T's line.  You can lie all you want for her, since you think she needs such whitewashing, but you can't change the past.  If they split me into different things while I'm sleeping, and assigning certain words and phrases to each thing, I feel sorry for them.  They are trying to get me to verify other people's words and actions.  That is a losing game from the beginning.  And that "I want to be a lady for once!"  That comes from my sister J, when she was about seven years old.  She was walking to the bathroom, a friend of hers was following and she said, "go away (or something) I want to be a lady for once!"  I heard that thrown at me recently. Too bad they are deliberately putting other people's words in my mouth.  It was always a good chuckle when I remembered when J said that to MTA.  But not any more.

Eh, not allowed to fight the gossip and lies.

The bottom line for today is, Fatso already knows some answers, has to harass me with the subject until I, even in a roundabout way, come close to what he wants.

TODAY'S IDLE THOUGHTS

More imaginings of my so-called "special treatment" that never ends.  I have had no time at all to myself today, my brain just goes into imagination mode from the time I wake up until I fall asleep.  Here's what I've been listening to from that phony "guide" Fatso.  I'm supposed to believe is helping me.  He is really adamant about getting me to join the gay community, but I know he wants to just harass me.  I really wonder who hired him to keep my mind on things I don't like and things about the past that he's trying to change.  He's always playing out some psychodramas populated with people I know, or barely know, and trying to get me to imagine a re-telling of  things in my past. Lately, his re-telling demands involve some of my parent's friends from long ago.  I would like to warn them that somebody is interested in them, but I haven't seen them in decades that I know of, and as you can see from my previous posts, it would just be ignored.  Maybe they hired him themselves--that would be ironic.

Anyway, today's ruminations.

Those two, Fatso and F, from the incident at the store are really going on a rampage this morning.  She kept it up with her usual 'gender trouble' and thinks it's proof.  She's just not qualified to tell an imitation from a personality.  It's really funny how she switches me from 'now he's a woman, now he's a man' by calling female names, etc.  Then she says, using the complete the sentence harassment, "Every time you call a woman a bitch, then you..." and she points the finger at me, and I think to myself, she wouldn't allow any voice from me since she had an audience, I'm sure, "then I call them a bitch," meaning ' just nothing more'.  When she pointed the finger, I of course "changed", like they call it into imitate a broad mode.  I bet any money that she's made me copy her, with exaggerated movements, a lot of swinging around.  I don't think of doing anything that women do, dream of having a baby, or doing nails, or whatever.  She always checks for KS's "I'll leave the pinkie sticking straight out post as a reminder."  How brain washed they've made me since 1985.

Like F, Fatso had a good time with me, pretending or not, to get me to accept 'help' from some guy at work and the guy's kid.  He probably just made me call them on the phone.  Fatso keeps the "we had your permission to do this, just admit it."  He lies, the only one who ever asked, and of course she knew that I would already say yes, was F.  But they want me to say they had permission to do that months before their incident at McC's.  Of course, he kept misleading his audience, knowing that I can't say anything.  They are very deceitful.

And the usual "say you are gay" and they use any reference, no matter how remote or offhand the comment is, they prance around with some piece of paper and thank me for the confession.  I got no idea what they made of something, and I really don't care.  And the gay community thing came in, just for a little today, and another attempt at making me listen to the 'let's help him get used to living with being a woman.' I feel sorry for those.  The way that they, especially F, use them .  They think they are getting an opportunity to help me, and they call me "she", and "oh, he just needs more time."  She knows I don't like them, and I'm just not going to join their crowd, ever.  For a while a few months ago, it was just "wake up at someone's house.  And it always turned into them yelling at me, calling me a traitor, and the one that really makes me laugh: "I better not see you get married, because you never fought for us, you just used the guys, etc."  I don't even have a desire to have the slightest bit of relationship with anyone, and when I think of marriage, it isn't the gay kind.  But, as always, I know she is leading them on, and I have hours of listening to the same diatribes that come from special interest groups.

When they have an audience and ask a question, it follows the basic pattern:  She throws out a question and I hear two thing.  One word of the sentence fades and is replaced, with another word.  For example, "She does believe in ...."  Of course, that's what they hear her saying; I hear, "She does (not) believe in..."
I say "Yes" to the do not believe, and realize I just gave the answer to the question the audience heard, and it's totally opposite to what I want to say.  It happens a lot.  People should watch her hands while she talks, one point down, a sweeping motion, or whatever, and she made me insert a "not".  It is so obvious to me, what is called editing, and the combination of the fade out, insert another word, answer the question I heard, then there it is. It sucks.

I remember years ago, often imagining her, and some drag queens from the community, standing in the street outside my house.  It's been years ago.  I think she might have cursed herself with "running too far to get home."  Also known as "overkill."  To pass me off as a gender confused person is ridiculous.  No one has to go very far into my head to find the five or six year old who always says yes.  And to the dress, but never made up, make-up, etc.  I think I cried more when I had to give up a pacifier than not wearing T's dress.  What a cheapskate T was, I only got one of her dresses.  Ha.  I still have the pacifier, only it's called a cigarette, and no one pulls it out of my mouth.

Anyway, the last word on the gay issue is a definite "no" and it has been for a very long time, almost twenty years.  But they still try to push it on me, and all the training in the world won't change anything.  The gay people are only used by my harassers as a weapon, they know I don't agree, and I think they use their finger snapping change thingy to put two opposite answers come out of my mouth.  I'll say no to something, then *snap* I'll say yes, and then the Fatso says, "see, he doesn't know what the real thing is."  I've heard from him a lot lately saying, "what's the matter with you, one minute you like this, the next minute you don't like it" and I know I only gave one answer.  They are so desperate to show people that I'm naturally incompetent, but they use such crap: word games, double talk (using an association to replace a word)  But then, I'm supposed to be competent enough to be responsible for making the decision that, "well, he gave us his permission."  I know I'm just in for hell when they are around, so why the hell would I say yes?  Especially after the store incident.  They replay the one time I said yes to her, and then I'm screwed, they gloat, and the dupes get entertained.

Double talk, metaphors, associations.  Interesting how this can be used.  Take a word, "do I hear a word from the audience?"  ha ha just making myself laugh.   Anyway, make the victim associate with something, say cigarette. Get a response from victim, say ET, saw her smoking in movies, or, JE, old neighbor who I started smoking when we were about 15 or so (I actually gave it many months thought before I started smoking).  Make victim use the associated word first, so victim says, I would like to smoke ET.  People say what?  Another word, an old one. Pot, victim associates that with fish or groceries (code words when talking over the phone).  Make victim use the word pot in a sentence and call victim crazy when victm uses the association instead of intended word.  I wonder if they can make me babble in a string of associated words.

And the classic: Carry on a conversation near victim, using trigger words and words the victim would associate with.  This is probably the most common I get at places where I work.  I know they use people I've worked with to "help me get through to him."  But, no doubt, the key words in their conversations are words the victim would associate with negatively.  In the job I have now, I only spend about an hour in the warehouse.  One Sunday, I'm at my bench, and I looked up, and on the other side of the bench was a woman that worked there and Fatso.  I heard the woman talking about her son who got caught with a gun or something, and she was asking him about what kind of sentence he would get.  And she's doing a stroke a handkerchief, wave hands around thing, and I heard Fatso, say, "One word from him..." I thought that he was referring to me.  I thought to myself, "I'm not saying a word (to help), and I don't know which one of those two to feel sorry for, I don't like either of them."  Through the years I've heard a lot of "we need you.  we need your voice. So cooperate."  It was like they use me to be some player in some schemes they have, or it's a "look what you can do for people!" joke.  Then even before they turn away they'll say, "See, he's obviously suffering from delusions of grandeur"  It's just more of the "help the victim to play head games with himself."

4:02 PM

My mind working overtime with F and T justifying their crap, and as always, T drones on and I don't understand what she's saying, it's all garbled, unti I say something or move, then she's back to "see, that was .....", and fills in the blank with some woman's name.  Meaning  "now he's .. " whatever girl.  She just keeps reinforcing that the only way she can wake me up is as a female, but isn't that the only thing she wants anyway?  And why is it that I'm surrounded by almost all females who have a gripe about me?  And no one else is allowed to even communicate with me?  I've heard T's husband's voice, but it is when I state a sentence, and he reads along, and then at a certain point, the words that I hear him saying are not the words that I am thinking.  T gets something from me and before she allows me to say something, she edits it, and her husband reads the edited version.  I'm definitely not thinking what she has her husband saying, and passing it off as me, because it's my thought halfway, and T's edits the rest of the way.

I still heard again, that maybe I should just apologize to T, that's all they need to hear. Well, I've told T some things years ago, and I don't doubt that she makes me say them out loud, and I don't think she needs an apology from me.  And F is still trying to get the gay stuff she wants verified, and her dupes keep falling for it.  I just heard a man, probably T's husband, say, well you did try to commit suicide.  They put me in that position, and use it over and over to get me in that position so they have the excuse to do some manipulation, harassment, and do everything else but talk about this suicide thing.  Why? they're trying to tie their phony sexual/gender problems to killing myself, which isn't happening.  It is so much easier for their dupes to fall for their crap, make them accomplices in this crime of harassment, when they invoke the word suicide.  Especially the gays.  They are soooooooo worried about, and I've heard this for real many times, "It's not going to happen on my watch."  They assign themselves as some watcher over their "problem children".  I've never seen such overbearing people who insist on getting into each other's business, whether somebody wants them in their business or not.


The bottom line?  They're not saving me from suicide, because it isn't going to happen and they know it, they use that to tell everyone that they are justified in doing their phony analysis, play the tedious "we are making your dreams come true" psychodramas with real people, and all the while I'm sleeping.  But, they'll say that I'm not sleeping, they pass me off as having a split personality, and that's why they got his permission, "the wrong personality protests against us and don't listen to him," and they are "helping the real W, the W that they know is what he wants to be.....ever since we knew him, ever since he was little."

There is no such thing as multiple personality disorder--that's crap created by charlatans and criminals. A lot of people see that they are just playing an endless game of poking the zoo animal, and they stay silent because they could end up just as used as I am.  Hmm, no anger management type therapy, even with the fingergun pointed at some girl?  Some amateur psycho-sexual therapy instead?  Hmmmmm.

I guess I'll get some sleep, if it isn't sleep deprivation day.  I find those days pretty obnoxious.

IS MY SLIP SHOWING?

Again, today, Thursday, March 3, 2011, those assholes are doing it again.  Came home from work and did some data entry work on the computer for extra cash, and of course the memories of something they cooked up as retaliation for blogging started.  While I'm keying, I imagined they took me to some gay bar, sitting me down, while they play out their scripted crap, and making their audience, the dupes that they are, play along with helping.  Same old story, I try to say what I want to say, and I know that have something completely different coming through.  And as always as it has been, and a lot of the time lately, the relentless 'he wants to be a woman thing.' And the more I try to protest, the more chances they have to humiliate me.  They are f**king crazy.......kill me if you see me with them.

I remember when I walked into AN's house to meet KS for the first time, and when I came into the house, I was imitating the tv from the original La Cage I had seen weeks before.  KS said remember how you came in.  A man imitating a man imitating a woman.  That must have been the same day that she asked me, while I was asleep, if I had ever wanted to be a woman.  I said no, but she kept asking, not even for a day? not even for a minute? I said no.  So, where did those two fakers find the tv, or woman or whatever they've been calling it?  If they have been dragging me around town, so to speak, from the way I recall it during the times I'm awake, it's a lot of imitations or broads I've known in real life, or on tv.  I wonder if anyone notices that, there is nothing original about these "women" they keep reinforcing.  I don't have the mentality of a woman, and I'm sure they must put it on me.  There's one woman who loves going wild with the lipstick, uses it like a knife.  And as it was forty four years ago, T probably started it because it shuts me up.

When I was in the first grade, 1967, it was time for the usual bathroom break for the whole class.  While in the bathroom, I started playing with the other guys, and they were pretty loud.  The teacher told us to cover up, because she was coming in.  When she saw what I was doing, she freaked out.  Really loud.  She dragged me down the hall to the principal's office.  I sat around in the outer office with the secretary, who gave me a sandwich.  I must have freaked out, I remember holding my left arm up to my chest for a long time.

Don't know how I got home, but I remember the day before we had to go meet with some counsellors or someone at the school.  Some friends of my parents, the same ones from the 1969 post (this was before the mom, X, became a rapist) came over in the evening, my dad worked the night shift at the time. X took my mom and my sister out to the store and left me at home with X's husband.  While they were gone, they called home.  It was my mom, and she said that she was dead, and that I killed her.  When they came back, I think they kept telling me she was a ghost or something. I didn't fall for it. It is kind of funny now.

So, they made a big production out of my sister getting a dress, and teasing me that she got one and I didn't (never had one before anyway), and when I tried to go near her, they pulled me back, and said that I couldn't have it.  This went on for a while, and I'm sure I screamed and yelled until, yes, to shut me up, they put the damned thing on me. More likely, they gave it to me when I agreed to telling some lie about who taught me the ... ahem. Clever training on a six and a half year old.

Anyhow, it was time for the meeting.  There was the teacher, and two ladies, old ones, with folders.  It was in the basement of the school, where we got our eyes checked every year.  It was a big room, with two rows of tables, and an aisle in between.  I sat with the teacher at the second row of tables on the right, looking toward the desk where my mother and X sat.  My mother probably needed an interpreter back then, and of course X loved to be in charge.  I filled out a one sheet, the old ditto sheet kind, with questions.  I put the date on top, the questions were 'what color is the sky'.. I remember that one, what kind of games do you play at home, and who are your friends (I put down some names from kids in the class), and who are my special friends,,,ahem.

So, the teacher sat me down and went through the answers.  I got the date right, but I got my own name wrong.  I put down someone else's name, probably FF, X's son) name.  Teacher wasn't happy.  With a little erasing, she told me, and had me write it down.  On the top of the page, on the right.  The sky was blue, and the teacher told me I didn't have any 'special' friends at school.  So things were going well, as far I knew.

Later, I was at the table in the first row, and they brought my sister in.  She was two grades ahead.  And, yes, she was wearing her new dress.  And they asked me what I thought of her, I said I liked her.  They asked her what kind of games we played at home, I don't know what she said, but she suddenly volunteered that I was a liar and no one should believe me. They must have trained her and bribed her with that dress the night before to say that. I freaked.  I started to cry, and I think I spit at her.  They got her out of there quick.

I must have freaked too much for their liking, they sat me down at the second table by myself, then one of the old women gave me a cup of something to drink.  A sedative or what, I don't know, but I was still yelling and the teacher kept telling me to put my head down, and I eventually did.

The next thing I remember was sitting at the table in the back of the room with everyone else.  They shuffled their folders around, and teacher said there was nothing they could prove. Don't know.
That would have been that, but for one thing. I think it's called running to far to get home, i.e. a little too much overkill on 'training' the kids to lie.

I don't know if I had days off from school, but I remember, and I always have remembered, walking back into the classroom and all the other kids were already there.  And they laughed their asses off when I came in.  Yes, as near as I could figure, I was wearing a dress, because "that was the only way to keep him quiet."

It was about this time that I was over at my aunt's house with my mom, sisters, and X. X did not know my aunt very well, that was the only time I remember her being at my aunt's house. After they sat down at the kitchen table, they told the kids to go outside, but my oldest sister and my oldest cousin, a female, was allowed to stay. Can only guess what they were orchestrating then. Years later, while they were doing their talking to me while I was sleeping, that same aunt was talking to me when I heard a noise that woke me up, my mom saying to that aunt, "Here, M, you can sit here." I must have heard the scraping of a chair on the floor. I made a noise, I guess, because they told me to go back to sleep, etc. About this same time, I remember imagining, seeing my aunt's eyes, and she said, "Never trust X."

And it went on for about two years, not at school, though.  My older sister loved to put me in a little dress.  She painted my nails once, on my right hand, I think, complete with polka dots.  And sent me outside, dressless, to show everyone what a f*gg*t I was.  The neighbor boys saw me and laughed their asses off.  When my dad got home, he was pissed, told her to take if off, and she had no nail polish remover.  They sent my other sister out to the drug store to buy some--she almost always got stuck in the middle of fights.  So, the older one took the polish off, but for the life of her, she just couldn't see why she got yelled at.  Nine years older than me, and she didn't get it?

In 1994, I called the school board and asked if they had any records of grade school.  They said they didn't keep anything from that far back, but she looked and told me the only thing they have was an IQ test I took in March 1967, the first grade. They sent me a card with the results.  No wonder they wanted me to skip to the second grade.  When I got to the fourth grade, my first grade teacher took over the class that year.  She told me she took the fourth grade class especially for me.  No kidding.

I looked up f*gg*t in the dictionary.  It was a huge dictionary, had all the latest words for the mid '60s. A bundle of sticks?

WHERE DID THEY COME FROM AND WHY DO THEY STAY?

I still think about those people and try to figure out why they started their harassment of me.  It went from talking to me while I was sleeping, moved on to face to face question/answer sessions from some girl that I "just had to meet," then they used a one-day harassment session that hasn't ended to this day.  Six months, twenty six years ago have defined the fifty years of my life.

KS, the girl who questioned me at AN's house was, I believe,  nothing more than a dupe used by someone to gather some information.  For whom, I don't know.  I haven't seen or heard about her since July 1985.  I did see AN, the woman I met in 1980 and who was so insistant that I meet KS.  I worked with her in 1995 for about two years.  I haven't seen or heard about her since then.

I have rarely seen my sisters the past twenty six years.  Maybe once every five years.However, they are the ones who keep the harassment going on, especially J.

The two people, F and Fatso, who basically attacked me at the store, McC's, in August 1985 are still in my thoughts.  I remember shortly before the incident, I imagined that someone wanted me to point out Fatso's wife, F. Fatso was a cop, and F was a friend of my sister, T.  It's almost certain that it wasn't the pot sellers who were interested in Fatso and F, they would have known about them for five years, so they wouldn't have waited to do anything about them, even if they wanted to.  I didn't know Fatso  and F well to begin with and hadn't seen or thought of them up to the time KS asked the sleeping me she was questioning, if I knew any cops. I said that I didn't.  She said, "Really?" It was then that I thought of him and his wife, and I don't remember explaining anything about them.  KS might have been gathering info about me for someone in my family or for the cops.  It would be plausible that someone would ask if I would point the finger at Fatso or F.  Evidently, I would have.  I remember sitting in a car, parked on the street in front of a school, and I recognized her in the playground, and pointed her out.  Who asked me to point her out, I do not know.  It could have been that I was told to imagine being in a parked car on a street in front of a school and shown a photo of her and then identify her.  It is not far-fetched at all to think that they themselves (Fatso and F) were the ones who set up a point-her-out test, so they could have an excuse to bring the hammer down on someone who would talk about them.  As if they were in so much danger.  Or, someone in my family, with the "see what he's talking about and with whom" paranoia of theirs, told them that they have been asked about.  My oldest sister, T, was friends with F.

Immediately after the incident at the store, no one ever talked about it, and I didn't even mention it at the time.  Especially since I called F, and made a fool out of myself.  And why would they bring it up?  They are criminals and they know it.  From talking to me in my sleep at home, to the "answer my questions now, and remember it all later" interrogation/data-mining sessions with KS, to the psychological attack at the store--they were all criminal acts, and a violation of my constitutional rights.  After the incident at the store, they don't even have to show themselves anymore, "It's all in your head," they would say, and it literally is now.

Today, it is probably just my sisters, my mother to get their messages across.  It was J who tried to get me to say that a ghost pushed flowers across the stereo when it was just someone who is a negative hallucination.  When the incident at the store was almost finished, Fatso showed me two pictures, one of J and one of KS.  He said something like, "You know the difference,"  meaning I knew which one is which, and I said that I did.  Then he commanded, "You don't know the difference."  And I didn't, their faces became blurry and unrecognizable to me. Why I wouldn't be allowed to see the difference, I don't know.

There was a Sunday last year that would be so bizarre to the average person, but I just walked through it as if it were as common as walking across a room.  I went downstairs to get some soda pop.  As I entered the living room, I saw my mother's leg and someone putting hosiery on her leg.  I heard a man's voice say, "Uh oh.  He's here", or something like that.  Before I entered the kitchen, I turned around, and my sister G was coming at me pointing her finger and tellinh me to sleep.  I didn't, I just turned around, and went into the kitchen.  She was surprised and said, "Why doesn't he fall asleep?" she was trying to wave a dress she was wearing, or not wearing, considering they know how to make me hallucinate.  She seemed surprised that I could see a dress, real or not, and resorted to calling me a f*gg*t.  I knew this by my reaction, which is repeating the time I slapped T when she called me that.  Next time, I'll remember to add the part where I threw my glass of chocolate milk in T's face first.
Anyway, I got my pop, and before I walked into the living room, there was some guy who was pointing out who was there as they went out the back door.  In a single file, the guy said, "remember this one, remember this one,"  the first two were J's boyfriend, and my sister G.  When he said "remember this one" on the last person, it was J, but as soon as I recognized her as J, she sort of looked like KS.  I think she looked at me and mouthed the words, "I'm KS."

Anyway, they have been at it for decades, and probably felt so safe about doing it because I was always guessing wrong about who was behind some of the tactics I'll describe later.  Lately, Fatso keeps waving a piece of paper, or telling me to imagine that he does, and says "you signed up for this", and "the only version of things that are coming out are going to be the one I want to get out" and "all you have to do is apologize to your sister, T" and "you have to apologize to the homosexual community."  I don't agree with any of that.  It is as if he has some crappy milestones that I have to pass in order to be acceptable. It's the tactic of the never ending tests, tests that you will always fail.  They want me to jump through hoops, and then, surprise, my sister T says, "no, not good enough.  He needs more work."  Acutally, T would refer to me as "she", they are trying to reinforce the classic tactic of creating a new profile for you, disguised as "we are helping you through your problem and making you a better person."  Never, never forget that they are not your friends, it is not a 'special case' that has to be handled in the way they are doing.  It is harassment.  They chose the "he wants to be a woman, that's the big secret, but don't let on that you know."  Bull, there's no gender confusion, no transvestism, and it would be easy for T to go down this dead end, considering she saw the same tactic used on me forty three years ago, when I was in the first grade.
.

WHAT. DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG? PART II

August 1985


Events seemed to happen in segments separated by blank spots.  I was standing behind the counter at the store, telling Fatso and F to leave me alone.  Then they began testing me, just playing games.  I had the gun in my mouth, or maybe an imaginary one, because I never did see a gun at all.  When I realized I was sort of awake, Fatso said, "It's a gun."  I pulled it out of my mouth, not wanting to kill myself.  Then he said, "It's drugs."  It didn't take long for me to imagine that it was a squirt gun filled with some drug, so I squirted it in my mouth several times.  If there even was a gun.

After another blank spot, I had the gun to my head again, my eyes closed, and I heard, to my right, a woman laugh.  I thought it was KS, the woman who played question/answer with me at AN's house.  I said, or thought, "There's that b**ch."  I swung the gun in her direction, and I heard a lot of shuffling around from that side.  The cash register was to my right, with a shelving display on the other side.  The shelving served as a barrier between me and anyone on the other side.  I did hear shuffling, and then I blanked out.  I think they told me to stop, I'm not sure.

They pushed back time, and made me repeat what happened, and narrate I think, what just happened.  When it got to the part where I swung the fingergun, or whatever, in the direction of the laughter, they stopped me.  I wasn't crying or anything at this point.  Fatso asked me if I realized what I was doing, and I laughed and said, "She's a bad actress."  I was referring to F.  "She ducked too early," I laughed.  I can't remember what they said, or what their reactions were, but I just laughed and said, "Oh, come on.  It's all a joke.  It isn't real."  In the last conversation I had with KS.  It ended in the strangest way, even for her.  I was really soured on her by the middle of July, and came to the conclusion, rightly or wrongly, I'll never know, that she was the cause of a lot of my problems.  She said, before hanging up on me, "You'll see the gun, then you won't and you'll see the blood, and hear the moans."  And she imitated moaning, and her voice trailed off.

I must have had my eyes closed, and they were talking to each other about replaying it to see "how far would he take it."  So they put me back to the point where I had the fingergun pointed in the direction of the laughter and it came time to shoot. I think I did, or didn't, probably did.  I didn't feel anything, or see anything, or hear a gunshot.  Regardless, they acted as if I had, and then it was back to fingergun to the head for me.

Another blank spot, and I woke up crying and basically hysterical.  I couldn't even see straight.  Fatso was screaming at me, "Look what you did."  He was on the other side of the counter, pointing at the floor.  He said, "You don't see it?"  I had my eyes open, looking at the floor, and I could tell it was a not-see, someone who was a negative hallucination.  I can see the outline of the object, and when looking at the place where the things actually are, appear to me as if I'm looking at it through water, or a fractured pane of glass; light is reflected and refracted at all angles.

I went to the other side of the counter and looked closer.  I still didn't see who it was.  It was a big person, I could tell that much.  Anyway, Fatso was telling me to look, I was trying to say I didn't see anything, and then another blank spot.

Awake again, and Fatso was walking on the other side of the counter, and said, "It's just ketchup."  I think he was shaking a bottle of ketchup, referring to fake blood I didn't see anyway.  Or catch-up, stopping me to remember what just happened before going on to the next charade.

Blank again.
I heard them talking to my right, I had my eyes closed, or fake blind, I don't know.  I think it was F who said, "He doesn't know," or, "He doesn't know what's going on."  I interrupted and said, "Sure he does, it's literal."  I referred to myself in the third person.  I have done it before, I got it from tv shows.  I stole some of my best jokes from the tv.  It was me talking about me.  "It's literal" refers to hypnotism.  The subconscience takes things literally.  I read a hypnotism book, after the local paper printed an article about the subject, and tried self-hypnosis.  And it works.

Immediately after I said that, someone to my left shined a light, like a flashlight, and said, quickly, "Who are you?"  I answered, "MH," and straightened up, which now makes me wonder why I was bent over in the first place.  Immediately after that, I said, "You!"  The figure behind the light seemed to me to be my sister T.  I have never had a good relationship with her.  She is terrifying to me and has been since I was about nine years old.  And I was out, probably more than just a nervous breakdown.

And here it is, Me is definitely myself, F and T may or may not be who I thought they were, but no matter, because what I thought is what matters.  Literally.

F:  He doesn't know.
Me: Sure he does.  It's literal.
T:  Who are you?
Me: *MH* YOU!

I may or may not have said MH, I may have only thought it.  There was an exchange after this, I don't remember what was said, but I remarked, "Think, say.  What's the difference?"  Taken literally, I may be talking out loud and not knowing it.  Doubtful.

"Who are you?" "YOU!"
So after this, it became a series of failed attempts to get me to wake up and stay awake without freaking out.  I woke up selling a pack of cigarettes, and when I realized what I was doing, I felt like someone else, and was out again.  I don't know if someone asks, "Who are you?" or "Who are you now?" that triggers an association with something that I'm doing, or if I'm just associating on my own with things I hear or see.  It is weird.

I started imitating my cousin, D, when I was cashiering.  Maybe someone asked, "Who is the cashier?"  I always gave them a different answer except the correct one, which would be me.

I remember imitating some guy from high school when Fatso, said something to me, It was something about giving someone a wish, and I said something about an explosion.  I recall a person behind me, didn't see him, started to scream no,no.  And I turned a little,and said, "no, things like that don't happen."  And someone said, "yes it will."  When I turned to look behind me, sort of saw myself, like someone was holding a mirror or showing me a picture of me imitating that guy.  I realize now while writing this, that the "high school guy" I was imitating, for lack of a better word, started the answer with, "W's pissed....."  I used my own name while associating, again for lack of a better word, with someone else. Strange.

So they tried to tell me that there were two me's.  One was "woo-woo w" and the other one was "watch w".  "Woo woo me" was the psycho who, when prompted to give a punishment to F and Fatso, said she should have her head cut off and raped.  Or vice versa.  They told me there was no hope for "woo woo me."  "Watch me" was fixable, they said. Little did I know that it would mean twenty six years of harassment.

Then, before they wrapped it up, they stuck some posts on me, because, as F put it, "He recognized me."  For their own fun and to make me look incompetent if I ever said anything about them, I guess.  Fatso showed me a badge, asked me if I saw it, I said that I did, he said, "then don't see it", and I didn't.

There was a black cop. Fatso asked me what he is. I said he was a cop.
There was a tall woman with big hair.  I said I thought she was a local news anchorwoman.  It really looked to be the same woman I saw at AN's house, the one who was supposed to show me her gun to scare me.
Fatso pointed out F, and asked me what she was.  I tried to talk, but I couldn't.  He kept pushing me to say it, and I said, "schoolteacher".  I must have blanked out.
Fatso showed me either a mirror or a picture, and said, "Look at you." But I answered, "J (my dead nephew)"  And blanked out.

Looking back on those things now, they could have been trying to get me to verify racial slurs, the word b**ch (instead of schoolteacher), etc.  I don't know the technicalities of verifying when someone is under.

I don't know if I was masturbating, or just exposing myself, or washing and shaving my dick, but as I was doing this, Fatso said, "Yeah, that's the ticket."  Huh?

F asked me, "How do you remember this?"  "I just do," I said.  "No, HOW do you want to remember this?"  I thought and I think I said something like, "When I smoke cigarettes.  They help me remember."  Pure nonsense, but it reminded me of how JL, the pot seller, posted, or timed, my joint smoking.  She took pantomimed taking three hits, and no more.  I got the message about that.  Strangly enough, a few months ago I read an article that said cigarette smoking helps improve a person's short term memory.

In the middle of, or after, the "how do you want to remember this" Fatso said, "Thiiiink."  He must have been holding up a mirror because I saw my eyes moving back and forth, really hysterically.
That's a really bad imprint for 'think.'

F started to read words that embarassed me.  I chose to edit them, i.e. actually not hear them.  She wasn't disappointed in that choice.

There was one thing that F, or some other woman, was saying, "No, I won't let him see that" or, "I won't show him that."  I wanted to look, and I saw myself in some kind of fun house mirror.

I think they made me play out the childish 'stick a needle in my eye' thing with making promises.

There was a post that felt like a heart attack if I ever said Fatso's name.  Not clear on that one, though.

F tried to tell me something by pantomiming the word 'see', and the letter c in sign language.  I took it to mean that I should call her the next day.  And I did, and I asked her if I really did cut off my dick, and she said, can you feel it, you'd be dead.  I mentioned McC's and she said she was never there, when I pushed it, she said, sit on it W.

F said that I have to trust someone.  I chose Fatso, but he pointed back to F, and said that I should trust her.  In these cases, if you trust someone, you're giving them too much control over your life: trusting someone is a big mistake.

So, I guess I woke up as close to being me as I could come, when I was looking in a hand mirror, and saw myself, and said, "Jesus Christ, I look like uncle Tony."

The last I saw of Fatso there was when he stood in front of me, and pointed to the clock on the wall, with his hand stretched out above his head.  He may have been holding the badge that he told me not to see.  He said, "now watch" or something along those lines.  I looked at the clock and noticed that the second hand jumped.  He grinned, and said something like "you don't know what happens" or "you don't know why that happened" or "you don't know why".  I just shrugged my shoulders. I'm assuming that some imprint wakes up when I look at a clock, or told to look, or whatever. I haven't figured that one out yet.

They brought S, the cashier back, holding a broom.  I gave them the standard, "Going off to lunch, S?"  Ha ha ha.

I don't know how I got home, but I remember coming into the house, with some people behind me.  They told my mom, "Here's your xxxxx son."  I don't know what they said exactly, but she had a horrified reaction.  I went to work the next day.  I felt like I had a heart attack.  It took me eight hours to just sweep the floor.  I quit a few weeks later, and the place went out of business two months later, that October.

That next day, I remember going to a doctor with my sister and my mother.  I really couldn't recognize anyone, my mother didn't look like she looks, and after a few seconds of looking, her face became recognizable.
After that day, everything became torture.


NEXT:  WHERE DID THEY COME FROM AND WHY DO THEY STAY?