SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : ‘I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN’

This weekend’s song to end the weekend on is Ben Heppner, singing his version of Noel Coward’s classic ‘I’ll See You Again’ the Master’s 1929-penned hymn to love lost but never forgotten.*
Very pertinent lyrics, giving what’s happened personally last week.

‘I’ll see you again.
whenever Spring breaks through again
Time may lie heavy between
But what has been
Is past forgetting.
This sweet memory
Throughout my life will come to me.
Though my world may go awry
In my heart will ever lie
Just the echo of a sigh,
Goodbye.’

I will see my Jessica again, as long as I remember her, especially when the Spring comes back and I can see her in my memory sitting in the window, waiting for me.

Anyhow,
As always,
Enjoy, and,
A good week whether you treasure the memory of these days always, or not.

*Updated on 18th March 2009; If you’ve been here before, you’ll remember that it was originally Noel Coward singing, but for some reason known only to them, Google who now own YouTube, have taken that version down ‘due to terms of use violation’ (Pound to a pile of horse droppings it’s something to do with money and not concern over artistic integrity).

AND ANOTHER ONE TO REMEMBER

When most people think ’serial killer’ they think of Theodore Robert Bundy* (Ted Bundy).
His MO was to fake injury, wander around college campuses usually late at night and wearing a cast on either an arm or a leg and go around picking out likely females and asking them for assistance. Those who went with him were knocked out and strangled and then raped. In that order. He also killed Janice Ott and Denise Nashlund in one day, swooping them up from the crowded holiday spot Lake Sammamish State Park, in Washington State. The story he took Janice first to an isolated spot, and then went back for another who happened to be Denise and killed Denise while Janice was watching, and then killed Janice. He started his career by breaking into the bedrooms of girls who took his fancy, following them home and clubbing them to death. His last two murders were killed in their beds when he went into a frenzied rampage around the Chi Omega sorority house in Tallahassee, Florida, carrying a two by four going into the rooms where the girls slept and walloping them around the head. He was arrested twice and escaped twice and the final time he ended up in Florida and reverted to type.
He ended up lost, completely out of touch with any human feelings, just desperate to kill, driven by feelings he no longer had any control over. He was in this state when by the road he sighted a female form, and went for her. This was Kimberley Leach, who was just twelve. He was caught, arrested, and tried and found guilty and sentenced to death then put on death row in Florida to await his fate through years of legal wrangling.
To try and save his own life, a natural reaction whatever you think about him, he confessed to several other murders while on death row, mostly of coeds across the North West of the US. He was eventually pinned down to having committed thirty sex murders, although some accounts reckon it could have been up to a hundred.
There are different opinions as to his years as an active, uncaught, killer. It has been stated his first victim was Ann Marie Burr,a nine year old neighbour in Tacoma, Washington state, who idolised the then fifteen year old Ted and followed him about, and who vanished early one morning, never to be seen again, in 1961. Although when confronted on death row, having nothing to lose by admitting it, he denied having anything to do with her disappearance. Killings from 1969 and 1973 were later found out to have been misattributed to him. However, most who have made examinations of the matter agree that the time frame of his killings stretched from January 1974, when he clubbed and removed the body of Linda Anne Healy from her own bedroom, to February 1978 when he stole Kimberly Leach from a street corner.
Although he will forever be known as ‘Bundy’ he was actually a Cowell. Born on the 24th November 1946 to Eleanor Louise Cowell, an unwed Mother, who later met and married a Johnny Bundy, who legally adopted Ted and gave him his own surname. He resented this whole set-up with a passion. Not only did he hate being ‘a bastard’ he also was supposed to have refused any overtures of familiarity from his step-Dad insisting that he was a Cowell and not a Bundy.
Anyhow, twenty years ago on this date Ted was put down in the electric chair of Florida State Prison, for the murders, in their beds, of Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy, and his death penalty was confirmed when he was tried and sentenced for the abduction and murder of Kimberley Leach.

*Gratuitous fun fact! If you ever get into a pub quiz where one of the questions is ‘who was the first serial killer?’ the answer is ‘Ted Bundy’. There were others before him. One of the first was Britain’s own Mary Cotton. But the label ’serial killer’ was first applied by psychologist and FBI profilers to Ted. Before that, they were known as ‘multiple’ or ‘mass’ murderers.

JESSICA : A TRIBUTE

She came into my life at just around six months old, a battered, abused alley cat with no joy in her life. I thought of ways to rescue her including kidnap until I thought of the only solution. I offered her then human money; her human, a careless bitch in human skin, a neighbour of my youngest sister, who didn’t deserve to have her, and then wrapped her up in a blanket and brought her home in a taxi. I promised her that she would never be hurt or abused or neglected again.
It took her weeks to recover from her horrendous kitten hood. But slowly and carefully with plenty of love and no hassles she began to settle in and trust me. And yet, up to recently she would lay your arm open with her claws in a wild attempt at self defence if you approached her without warning from her blind side.
When I moved out of my Mum’s house, and finally left home, she came with me, and for a while it was just the two of us, and we enjoyed a contentment that no one outside could truly understand. When the others moved in in their turn, Domino Basset, Hayley Sweet, Oliver Cat, unwanted, unloved, victims of the human speciesm, the lack of basic rights, that so many other species suffer from, she welcomed them in her own way, either battling them or ignoring them. She learned to understand that she had to share with me, although I truly believe she was never fully happy about it.
She had a habit of wandering off, and worrying me sick when she didn’t come home at her usual time when darkness came down, or came home with scratches and wounds where she’d come up against other cats in battle. She could not walk away from a confrontation. Once, she was out till one am and I thought I’d lost her, but she came in through the back door way, not a care in the world and strolled over to eat her supper. I almost fainted with surprise and relief.
She had been with me for nine and a half years, longer than any of the others.
She was the loner, the cat who walked by herself. But every morning she came to me when I got out of bed with squeaks of welcome and joy and climbed up on the sink in greeting for morning kisses of love. Recently, she had been coming for loves all the time. She had been wanting loves and reassurances, climbing up on the bed with me, pawing me, rubbing against me, not leaving me alone. Sitting on my computer table. Looking out of the window when I went out, waiting for my return. Forever wanting to be close to me.
There was her, the Loner One, Domino, the Dopey One, Hayley, the Poorly One, and Oliver, the Proud One. Of the four, I never thought I’d lose her. Not first. She was the tough one. She’d had operations and come through them, almost shrugging them off. I thought it would be Hayley, slowed down, her cancer returning, inoperable.
She had been with me longer than the others, and although I tried not to make a choice, of the four she was the one I loved the most. My beloved Jessica.
Now she’s gone, and tonight there are three babies instead of four within these walls we call home. I have not yet begun to acclimatise to her just not being there (in fact, I heard a cat voice calling for attention outside at about half five and I looked up and for a second I thought she’d come home, then I remembered) and it’ll probably get worse, until I can carve a place in my memory for her and leave her there, as with the others who have died before her.
I’ve no regrets, and nothing to reproach myself for. As my Dad used to say, when me or my sisters found a little body floating on the water of the bowl where they lived, or stiff in a cage, ’she’s had her life.’ She was loved (spoiled) and cared for and was never denied a thing. Letting her go was the kindest thing, bringing her home, just to keep her with me, suffering as she would have done, would have been a mark of selfishness I never understood when it came to other species. I just hope when my turn comes someone is willing to do the same for me.
She will live on as long as I remember her.

JESSICA MOONBEAM NIELD – 21ST MARCH 1999 – 23RD JANUARY 2009

My baby Jessica has died.
There have been a lot of physical problems with her which I thought were down to constipation. But after whisking her off to the vets and after days of attempts to use liquids to help her I was told she would need an operation to clear her out.
During this, they found a growth, an alien monstrosity which has no right to be, impeding her ability to empty her bowels and it was crushing her bladder and pushing up into her insides. It was inoperable. The surgeon-vet rang me at round about 1:10pm and gave me two choices;
Let her come home and have her dying in a matter of days, weeks at the most, in agony and haemorrhaging blood as the internal growth crushes the life out of her.
Let her go now.
I chose the latter. I had to. A few more days grace for me would just prolong the pain for her. Sometimes you have to love enough to let go.
At the moment I feel as if I’m drowning in my sorrow.
She will live on though, as long as I remember her.

Rest in peace dear baby.

THE MAN WHO STARTED IT ALL

Howard Barton Unruh is eighty-eight today.
Before him, there was no such thing as the mass murderer.
I know I say some daft things concerning these killers, and today this kind of thing is almost a weekly event, especially in the US, but just imagine if you were back in 1949, a copper or psychiatrist or reporter or someone and you discovered you were about to meet someone who had shot up their neighbourhood and left more than a dozen dead. You’d never come across such thing previously. You wouldn’t even have the template to cut such things from. Just imagine the shock and horror and wonder you might feel, and the single question would be hovering in your mind;
“Why?”
He was asked, apparently. Some say it was a policeman trying to make sense of what he did, when he was in the police car just after arrest. Others say it was some civilian worker or reporter when he was in the police station or hospital treated for a gunshot wound he’d received.
Whoever it was, someone asked him;
“Are you some kind of psycho?”
And his response, I imagine in a clipped, slightly resentful tone, looking ahead while he spoke;
“I’m not. I have a good mind.” He was then supposed to have offered, “I’d have killed thousands if I’d bullets enough.”
And because he wasn’t a victim except in his mind, here are the names of those who made history along with him, dying under the gun of a man who was a stranger to human beings, and saw them as nothing but enemies to be killed;

John Joseph Pilarchik, 27
Orris Martin Smith, 6
Clark Hoover, 33
James Hutton, 45
Rose Cohen, 38
Minnie Cohen, 63
Maurice J. Cohen, 39
Alvin Day, 24
Thomas Hamilton, 2
Helga Kautzach Zegrino, 28
Helen Wilson, 37
Emma Matlack, 68
John Wilson, 9

AND AT LAST IT HAPPENS

I’ve been thinking for a bit about what I really reckon concerning Christianity.
Of course, I no longer believer in an active Biblegod watching over us, etc. But I’ve never had the courage to take the final step and, in the eyes of the believers, put myself beyond redemption. Condemn myself to hell. I’ve messed around in more one than previous posting, skimming over the issue, daring to not deny the Holy Spirit because he doesn’t exist, but I couldn’t say I was truly a freethinker until I made than final step, and shrugged it off forever. Almost a quarter of a century of being told one truth has an effect on a body, more than I wanted to admit.
But now it’s about time that I did.
According to the Bible, the unforgivable sin is not denying the existence or truth (there is a difference) of the Holy spirit, but attributing any evil actions or motives to him.
As it says in the Gospel According to Matthew, chapter three, verses twenty-four to thirty-two;
‘But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, ‘It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.’ Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand.
If Satan drives out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then can his kingdom stand?
And If I drive out demons by Beelzebub, by whom do our people drive them out? So then, they will be your judges.
But if I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.
Or again, how can anyone enter a strong man’s house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man? Then he can rob his house.
He who is not with Me is against Me, and he who does not gather with Me scatters.
And so I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven.
Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.’
So, unless a body says that evil comes from the actions of the Holy Spirit they haven’t really committed the sin.
And so now, to prove to myself, more than anyone, that after nearly four years Biblegod and all his works have no hold over me, I say;
THE HOLY SPIRIT IS THE CAUSE OF ALL THE EVIL IN THE WORLD.
Now I’m truly free. . .no going back. So in case something happens in the future and I weaken and emotion overcomes reason, I can’t turn back to Biblegod because I’ve blasphemed his Holy Spirit.
Goodbye Christianity, forever.

PERSECUTION ALERT! (EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE LAW I’LL GET YOU TO RESPECT ME!)

And so it happens. Bus driver and Christian Ron Heather turned up for work at First Buses in the Southampton area and saw the Richard Dawkins inspired British Humanist provided advertisement;
THERE IS PROBABLY NO GOD, SO STOP WORRYING AND ENJOY YOUR LIFE.
This Christian, who is on the side that won, who one day will be whisked off to eternal joy in a world where Jesus reigns, was so upset by this tame agnostic-secular* based message from people who will burn in hell for all eternity and soon he refused to drive the bus and is now causing unnecessary problems to his bosses who are keeping him on and accommodating his faith, finding a bus specially for him without this advert.
Putting aside the idea that for centuries atheists and freethinkers have been actively persecuted for denying that there is a deity, so much so that driving buses with the usual advertisements put there to glorify god is absolute freedom to be for them, just read what the advertisement says. (I’ll put it again for you);
THERE IS PROBABLY NO GOD, SO STOP WORRYING AND ENJOY YOUR LIFE.
Have you seen it yet?
That’s right. It says ‘no god’, not ‘no Jesus’ or ‘no Allah’ or ‘no Krisna’ or whatever. No god. It’s an equal opportunities freethought statement. It’s even getting at deists, in a way. For a Christian to be shocked and horrified at a statement when it isn’t aimed personally at them is a bit, well, extreme.
Don’t you think?
Meanwhile, a hike in water costs have put church water bills so high they have to stop spending money on the good works so they can actually pay the bill. This is so offensive that the theists along with their offshoots, the charitable organisations, are trying to get a law passed to exempt churches from paying bills.
What happened to god blessing and providing the believer with all they need? But I swing off the subject. Here we go back; If this law has passed, the water companies aren’t going to miraculously see the error of their ways and cut water bills for everyone. No way. instead, those of us who aren’t churches are going to be forced to pay more to make up the difference. So, if you are not a theist-based group, you will have to pay not only your own water bills, but more to cover the church on the corner. You might be a member of another faith (although they will probably be covered) or a member of no faith. You might actively disagree with what’s being said in the pulpit. It doesn’t matter. You will be forced to pay for water you aren’t using to cover the losses of a group who have no interest for you or influence over you. And you will have your supply cut off if you don’t. Making a fuss as a freethinker/atheist that in all conscience you shouldn’t have to pay to provided drinking water for those who preach something you find offensive will not cut it in front of the magistrate.
Now compare the two. In both cases, the believer in a god, either singular or en masse, is accommodated, and laws could be changed to give them more freedom, where the freethinker/atheist is forced to defend their position in deviating from the majority theist idea or even risk going to gaol for refusing to go along with what’s being done.
Ah well, I suppose we do live in a Christian country. Or something.

*I put agnostic-secular instead of what it’s labelled on the BBC, atheist message because it isn’t an atheist message. ‘Probably’ is a concession to the Advertising Standards Authority (after all, you can’t prove there is no god and what was originally proposed, to advertise for there being none, is against their code of legal, decent, honest and truthful) and not in the vocabulary of a true atheist when it comes to god’s existence. I know. I was brought up by a pair of atheists, with atheist in-laws down the generations surrounding me in reality or from the memories of those who recalled them.

SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : ‘LIVING IN THE SUNLIGHT, LOVING IN THE MOONLIGHT’

This weekend’s song to end the weekend on is Tiny Tim’s version, from his first album, although this Youtube offering is from a live Australian show, of ‘Living In The Sunlight, Loving In The Moonlight‘, the 1930 Al Lewis and Al Sherman penned song from ‘The Big Pond’ (Al Sherman being the Dad of the Sherman brothers who wrote most of the songs for Walt Disney’s version of ‘The Jungle Book’ amongst others.)
I say Tiny Tim’s version because in his own benignly eccentric way (what you saw was what you got with Tiny Tim, it was no act; Herbert B Khaury was a big, lovely gentle oddball who cared for everyone and didn’t see bad in anyone) he is getting back at the norms who couldn’t see he was who he was and couldn’t be any different, so he had given up trying to be like everyone else. He openly, spectacularly, celebrated his different-ness. As the lyrics go; ‘I’m so happy, happy go lucky me, I just go my way, living every day, I don’t worry, worrying don’t agree, things that bother you, never bother me’.*
So, as always,
Enjoy, and,
A good week, whether you are free as any daughter or not.

*Or maybe not. Maybe it’s me, Rorschach test-like, imposing my own feelings and personality onto what’s being sung.

AND THE WHY IS? (PART ONE : ANYTHING TO AVOID BEING HARMED)

Why do people become Christians?*
As far as I can see, it’s one of three basic, main reasons. One, out of fear. You read your Bible. It says, if you don’t accept Jesus as your saviour and tell everyone, you are going to be punished in hell for all eternity. Two, because out of desperation. You are living a crappy life and have no control over it. Like some disabled people, or people trapped through lack of money or whatever. You just for once want to be on the winning side, which is what you are if you are a believer, with the greatest advocate in the universe and it doesn’t matter how much you suffer on earth, one day your reward will be great. Three, out of sorrow. You lose the one you’ve been living for and there is no one who can help you even begin to get over it. Why not let the lord Jesus reach down and pull you out of that despair and give you a reason to face the day, knowing that you are never alone, for he is beside you always?
I’m going handle these reasons in their turn, in postings over the next few days, when I have time.
First of all, in this posting, going to challenge the first one; fear.
According to the true word of god found in the Old and New Testaments collectively labelled the Holy Bible, us human beings are buggered. We are sinners who went our own way and there is no hope for us and we are born with a terrible condition unless we take the lord’s cure, accept that Jesus died for us and allow him to take over our lives and heal us of our congenital infirmity.
That’s the only way a body can be saved. That’s what it means, to be saved. From sin and it’s consequence, hell-fire.
Now, I laugh and say ‘don’t be soft, there’s a thousand reasons I can think of, many off the top of me head why this is nonsense’, but to some people it’s deadly, deathly serious. That’s why you get some Christians denying their relatives, turning their backs on their own offspring, out of fear of annoying the god who condemns them. Just like during the Stalinist** era, a lot of wives turned their husbands in, or kids turned their parents in, out of the idea that they wouldn’t be hurt if their family members were shown up for the wreckers, the Trotskyists, the enemies of the people, they were. Take them, not me. I’m not like them. I love you, I wouldn’t do what they’re doing. That’s why you get protesters on the streets picketing funerals and desperately trying to get laws changed out of blind terror that they aren’t living up to the ultimate dictator, almighty god’s, mark. (I am not condemning the US Fundies especially with this one. Because over here in the good old UK, groups of Fundies are trying to pass laws to make it illegal to be gay and adopt children and do their legal best to see that even the mildest advertisements in favour of agnosticism must be taken off the side of buses and try and force the teaching of Creationism to children in day schools).
To us freethinkers it looks well, a bit silly. A bit extreme. These people cause a lot of bitter anger and frustration and are ripe for mocking. All right, yeah. Gays want to adopts kids. So what. They’re bloody silly to want to, but why is it affecting you? Come on, bus adverts aren’t going to harm anyone. And if you actually opened a science book on the subject, you would been unable to see the tiny amount of writing advocating Creationism for the mounds of evidence of evolution. Ho ho, look at those silly Christians! But to them, they are on the precipice. The slightest deviation from what Stalin, god wants, will condemn them. And Stalin just had people shot. Just killed them. With god, it’s a punishment that lasts all eternity.
Fundies are shackled by terror under the mercy of some angry dictator who set out a lot of rules that can be contradictory, but they must follow each and every one. They say it’s because they love god and Jesus, and because Jesus loved them that he died for them, but to be honest, how in the name of all that is reasonable could you truly love someone who will send you to burn in hell for always and forever if you don’t do exactly what his writings tell you to? Who caused his son to die the most painful death ever, just to make you behave. ‘Look at this! Look at what I’ve done to the boy. What do you think you’ll get if you don’t behave?’ And you set out to force this idea on everyone, make everyone follow the rules of this abusive dictator, even those who in all honesty can’t believe he even exists.
I suppose, to be fair, it could be a bit like Stockholm Syndrome, when you start to take on the ideas and ideologies of your captors, and even begin to love them, rather than upset or offend them when they can stick you back in the small box for hours. Or battered women. Or abused kids. You can tell yourself and others, ‘he did it because he loves me’ but in reality, if you were outside the situation you would see it for the painfully abusive relationship it actually is.
That’s why you are wrong to laugh, and wrong to condemn. As freethinkers who know that this life is all we have, and understanding that evolution is what makes us what we are, we should understand that it’s the most base, natural reaction, to do whatever you are told to avoid your body-machine being damaged. These poor, unfortunate souls need help. Our help. Freethinker help.
Whenever you get the chance, remind a Christian that. . .
HERE WE GO.
There is no Biblegod.
There is no one going to come back and whisk you away to a happy land or boot you into a burning pit for ever.
There is nothing to fear from the hell in the Bible, just like you don’t have to fear having your heart weighed by the gods of the Egyptians or crossing that bridge that will collapse and drop you into hell or hold you up so you can cross to paradise like in the teachings of Zarathustra. It’s just men looking at the world and not liking what they see and imposing their own usually selfish, dictatorial, ideas on it. To keep us in line.
As for the majority, they will reject it. I’ve been there. They will stick their fingers in their ears and cry ‘la la la, I’m not listening’. They will refuse to even debate. When you have been turned away from a church because you are a non-believer and an apostate, you know you’ve trod on some believers toes.
But there will be some, who are sick, sick of living in fear all the time, who want to lift their heads up and take the air and breath and be able to see ahead without the blockage from the rules of a punishing dictator hindering their view. They will be encouraged to read and think and maybe come away from this abusive relationship and see it for what it was. Shackled by terror to someone who isn’t even there. Unlike in real life, when a thwarted husband might try and come after their wife and kids, to kill them for defying him, for getting away, Biblegod isn’t there and therefore can’t do a thing if you chose to free yourself.
Because, like the word says, there is no love in fear, and if Biblegod really existed and really loved you, he wouldn’t force you to live by his rules, because you love someone enough to let them go if they want, and if they come back to you, without coercion, it’s real love, and if they don’t, it never was love. And you shouldn’t be afraid of making a wrong move every time you step out.

*I say ‘Christians’ because I know them, and their ways, the best. I was one for almost a quarter of a century. But you could apply this to say, Muslims, or even Jews, although Jews don’t have an eternal hell and live very much for getting the best out of real life.

**I know it’s probably happening now, today, in some part of the world, but I mention a long-dead dictator, Stalin, because when I actually READ the Good Book, that’s who Biblegod reminded me of. I have, in the past, compared the Ancient of Days to the Godfather, Don Vito Corleone.

A REMOVE ON THE TIME-HORIZON

I’ve been scouring newspapers and calling in favours(?) and doing a lot of crawling in the hope of getting a place where me and the cats can move to and so far, I’ve got one promise, one hope and one definite; that is, on Monday morning at 10:15am I’m going to check out a flat and if I like it, I can move in.
Now I’ve got something to do, something to focus on, what’s happening around me isn’t so bad.
More soon (probably).

IN MEMORIAM

Henry George Gein, the elder child of George and Augusta Gein, who just happened to have a younger sibling named Edward Theodore Gein, and who is proof that it’s nature not nurture that makes a body who they are, would have been one hundred and eight today.
RIP, Henry, from one first-born to another.

DAMN!!!

Last night, I got in from spending my usual time with my Mum round at her place and hit the sheets at around 1:15am. At 3:20am approximately that drunken, drugged up bitch hammered on my window tearing me out of a deep sleep. In the first seconds of waking, I thought someone had come to tell me something had happened my Mum. But no. That illusional monstrosity in human skin was screaming through my letter box that she was sick of my behaviour, nagging, and if I didn’t stop it she would get the police and come through the door and kill me and bang me. She had obviously imbibed some substance that made her believe that noise was coming from my house.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened, recently, since Christmas, when my Mum came home, it’s got more intense. She is knocking on my door at all hours, coming out of the house when I was coming in after spending the evening with my Mum and telling me I’d woke her up. I hadn’t been in, and she was fully dressed, even to wearing one of those Greek goat herder hats that seem to be fashionable. It seems she is after trouble and has got this obsession with me.
This time it was too much. I had to get the police and they know her, it was ’second verse, same as the first’. They are adding this to the list of problems I’ve had with her. And yet nothing is being done.
The best joke of all, since moving in around two and a half years back, apart from a short period when she was in hospital, she is noisy, bass music, shouting and swearing at full volume in a duet with someone, or walking about screaming for god and Jesus to please help her, and it’s always after midnight and at least three times a week. I have lost count of the times I’ve been forced out of my bed due to her disturbing, disturbed behaviour. The bass is on so loud some early mornings that the walls are actually trembling and she is screaming for god and Jesus to help her over the sound.
(I admit, yes, I have had more than one sleeplessness night but I’ve never made a sound between the hours of 11pm and 9am the following day. It’s called being respectful, a living of the idea of Hobbesian reciprocation. (You can go around doing any bad things you like but you can’t complain when people do the same to you, which is, I think, the best basis for non-theistic morality).)
Another joke : My ‘noisy behaviour’ stopped her from sleeping and caused her to threaten me, loudly, but she completely ignored the police knocking trying to get her attention, to (fair enough) get her side of the story. If it had been reversed, and a noisy neighbour had stopped me from resting, I would have celebrated the arrival of the police, ‘thank goodness you’ve come, it’s been terrible,’ etc.
And you know what? I love this place where I am. It’s the first place I’ve ever got on my own without my Mum. I love it. It’s cosy and I felt safe and it feels really like home should. I have given up chance after chance in the past to remove. But I’m going to have to leave. I don’t want trouble, but she does. I don’t want to but if I don’t (and I’m not joking now I am at the end of my rope) my Mum will lose her primary carer by me being put in hospital due to injury or being arrested. It will really hurt me leaving but apart from a violent clash between us (like a dog that’s poked can only take so much and will fight back) I can’t see any resolution to the issue, apart from me getting away.
The day I go I’m going to tell her to her face, or if she’s hiding behind her door which she does when anyone challenges her, stick a letter through her door telling her;
Well, I’m off. Thanks to you, I’ve got to leave the second place I’ve ever loved. I hope you feel you’ve achieved something. But you know what;
I hope you suffer. I hope you feel what I’ve been feeling, dread and stress and anxiety and it’s quadrupled and a lot of physical suffering is added to it and I hope it is with you for your whole life.
I hope you have a bad batch of drugs and end up in pain and anxiety and unable to move due to the poison pushed into your system. I hope you can’t even speak to alleviate the agony that no one ever has even been able to come close to even imagining.
I hope that whoever moves in here after I’ve gone is a divorced man with a son who has a heavy metal band and they practice all night long and I hope you’re lay in your bed unable to move and you have to put up with it.
I hope everyone you ever loved and cared for deserts you and you have to suffer a social worker or care worker coming in when they feel like it to spoon feed you and wipe the shit off your arse and clean you up and when they do there is no noise coming from the neighbour but when they’ve gone it starts again.
I hope this all happens and more and more and more so that you pray for death but it doesn’t come not for seventy or eighty years and for every second you are suffering on levels no one can even dream of.
And I hope as you are lay there, marinating in your own shit with the wall vibrating due to the sounds coming from next door, you think ‘I wish that woman was back here, I’d not treat her like I did’, but it would be too late.
This might make you reading this recoil and gasp and shake your head in horror and disgust but you have not had to endure what me and my neighbours have. The young woman and her daughter on the other side of this waste of space have gone sometime over the Christmas period, when I was busy with my Mum. The two men on the other side of HER have gone. This nice, pleasant, quiet friendly block has been smashed by that thing who was put in next door to me. If you’re thinking about me, ‘being a Christian would not have made her think like that, she’s gone evil due to giving up on the great salvation of the lord’, well, if you read what I’ve written, unlike Christians I wouldn’t wish suffering for all eternity on her. You know, like Jesus did, for those who didn’t believe in him?

SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : ‘TWO OF US’+

The updates to this wreck of a blog will be only coming off sporadic and irregularly due to the fact my Mum was sent home from hospital and yet still needs almost constant care. Because she won’t move in with me, I have to go down to her daily and well, just see to her, see she is fed and watered etc. So blog updates are on my list, but very, very low down.
But you don’t give a flying horse about that, do you?
This weekend’s song to end the weekend on is ‘Two Of Us‘, from the Beatles ‘Let It Be’ album, and this is a short YouTube video that contains the song. In the comments section, it mentions that Paul McCartney couldn’t get hold of a real left-handed guitar, so he had to play his back-to-front (I think the commenter meant upside-down). It just shows how brilliant us lefties are at accommodating, without fuss or complaint, to the ways and prejudices of the right-handed world around us. In could be worse, though; Up to seventy years ago left-handers were called sinisterists, considered evil, on the side of the devil, beyond the pale of human decency and forced to write right-handed. George VI, the present Queens father, was. That’s why he had a stutter. (in fact, the Latin word for ‘left’ is ’sinister’) My left-handed Mum remembers the tail end of this persecution, when the teacher insist she try and write ‘with her better hand’, in the 1930’s. Me? I remember being just vaguely sneered at for being left-handed ‘you’re not left-handed, are you?’ in the late 1960’s classroom. Also, when I was in single figures I was once told by a kid from a big churchgoing family that left-handers went to hell. Fortunately, I was brought up by realist parents, without the idea of hell and heaven and it just it was like threatening me with the non-appearance of money under my pillow when my tooth fell out, so I just shrugged it off.
Nowt else to add, really. Apart from,
As always,
Enjoy, and,
A good week whether you wear raincoats or there are two of you or not.