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?
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