Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. I cannot control how many horrible things happen to me in one day; it is Obama who controls that. So, if I wait too long between posts, they become too drenching.
Please share this for me with the entire world, both houses of Congress, the Supreme Court, the United Nations, all sympathetic world leaders, all reputable national and foreign presses, etc.
Here is my latest blog post. I spent a beautiful night last night among the stars.
Egypt. How is freedom of speech and the right to assemble and associate doing in Egypt these days? These are basic human rights that all people need to be a truly free people. There must be the freedom to dissent against the ruling regime.
Speaking of dissenting voices... My last blog post was finished at 8:52am on 21Aug2015. I quickly sent it to my lovelies who publish all of my posts for me. Next, I queued my music and checked my makeup.
My internet gnomes played me Selena's Amor Prohibido while I took my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies. And I sang along while I worked from 9:28am until 10:15am.
I left for my place at 11:09am. I chatted with Josh during lunch at noon, took a nap, and by 3:37pm, was on a bus to my playland, the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade.
I found no one to talk to until 4:23pm outside the Famima where I sat with Patricia as we drank our coffee. My darlings Tentacle were in Santa Cruz for the weekend. At Patricia's suggestion, I messaged my darling FlamencoHands to see if he would be around that night.
At 5:02pm, we were sitting watching Rachel strum and sing while Patricia staked out a place for herself and for her grandson to play at 6pm. Please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my walking my Promenade starting at 5:15pm and ending at 5:26pm.
And a new recording starting at 5:26pm right where that one had ended and not stopping until I leave the furniture store at 5:35pm. I need children, my beautiful world, and I turn 38 years old on 12Oct this year.
I stopped to chat with Patricia and Maggie on my way back down the Promenade, and I found FlamencoHands(Nick) at 5:48pm in front of the Apple Store. He was going to play at 8pm after Patricia's grandson Dominic.
I stopped in the Famima at 6:19pm to talk to Handsome and ended up chatting with ODean and Tony before I returned to my darling FlamencoHands at 6:34pm. It turned out to be a very social day for me. I am such an extrovert; I HATE when I have no one to chat with.
I tried streaming the NBC Nightly News online at 7:25pm, but the app crashed at 7:34pm. Oh well, at least I got my nightly cyberhug. It was gorgeous.
At 7:53pm, I ran into Richard! He was sitting outside of the Famima drinking coffee. I sat with him for half an hour before returning to my darling FlamencoHands by 8:22pm.
At 8:42pm, Kevin manifested from the aether in front of me and was all, "Dude, where's your band?" That is my paraphrase. So, I left Nick, again, since he hates when Kevin dances, and I watched Kevin dance in front of the salsa singer Leandro at 9:01pm after Leandro's nightly visit from the Santa Monica police.
By 10:14pm, Kevin and I were sitting eating vittles together outside of the Famima. I always called it my conversation patio. There is a reason.
Please circulate a verified and unedited recording of our conversation the night of 21Aug2015 beginning when I googled the poem Annabel Lee and ending at 11:33pm when I took my iPad back out again. And, thank you.
ODean appeared right as we were getting up to catch the bus, and we missed the last bus. So, we stayed out later.
The list of things we discussed doing but did not do included going to the movies, catching the bus, and drinking Bourbon. There was a lot of talking, singing, and dancing instead.
We, in fact, wandered around looking for someplace with whiskey for some time. At 1:19am, while we were standing outside of the Famima, my old friend Mike wandered by on his bicycle and asked if he could buy me coffee.
After buying us ice cream, Kevin disappeared. Mike offered me breakfast. And ODean caught a bus back to where he stays. Mike and I found ourselves at Swingers at 2:22am.
The night I met Mike, I ended up in tears crying on his shoulder over Obama, my rape-slaver, forbidding me all contact with my own husband. I saw him a few mornings at the coffeeshop after that. This was our first real conversation in a long time.
Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, circulate a verified and responsibly edited recording with full audio and visuals of the highlights of my night into the wee hours of the morning beginning at 11:33pm and ending at 3:39am. Time and date stamp every second you show. And, thank you.
I was curled up and asleep by 4am. I woke up on Saturday, 22Aug2015, in time for breakfast and was at the Farmers' Market outside the Pico Branch Santa Monica Public Library sipping coffee by 8:34am.
I quickly streamed my online music. I was listening to Rihanna's Te Amo as I checked my makeup and took my I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
My internet gnomes played me Wally Pleasant's She's in Love with a Geek that morning while I was writing. I sang a little. It was a great start to the day.
At 10:17am, I moved to my regular morning haunt, my local Subway. Yet, I was still back where I stay for lunch at noon. I took a nap after eating. And after dinner at 5pm, I was on the bus at 6:01pm.
I was on my way to the Griffith Observatory. It took a while, but it was completely worth it. The first place I visited was the roof...
I got my eyecamera in a telescope pointed at the moon at night. She was gorgeous to behold. I made a brief run through the museum, so I could kiss the Einstein statue. I am sure it will make a gorgeous verified and barely-edited recording. Just never show me in the restroom.
I was not on the shuttle back down the hill until 10:07pm. The trip back to where I stay in Santa Monica took a while, but the Griffith Observatory was worth it. I was curled up and asleep by 1am.
I woke up on Sunday, 23Aug2015, in time for breakfast and was at my regular morning haunt by 8:21am. I had work to do. This blog post was finished at 8:33am on 23Aug2015.
And now, my beautiful world, I answer all of your questions for me. Please keep collecting all questions and concerns from all your friends and loved ones and sending them to me through whatever means possible.
Why does my husband have all my money that Spawn of the Devil War Criminal Boeset did not steal from me? War Criminal Boeset stole all of the money from me that I am allowed to know I have under Obama's "rules."
All the rest of my literally trillions of dollars Obama forbids me go to my legally recognized husband, the Mr. Johnny "Sweetness" Depp. We have joint accounts. As far as I am concerned, if Sweetness ever eats the frog legs, he can keep all the money, too. He can have everything in this world he wants.
I am forbidden everything but abject poverty by Obama, but I know already that I am capable of earning literally trillions of dollars in just one year. I will be fine, and Sweetness deserves more than just my love.
Has my boyfriend the darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic ever hit me? No. I tolerate crap from no one. That is a bigger insult to me than that is to him. SynSyn, destroy EVERYONE who started or ever even repeated that obvious lie.
I am no weak woman; I permit no abuse of me nor of my nor my loved ones' reputations. My Powers of Attorney, destroy them. I am done with lies about me.
My beautiful world, you need a better system for telling me all of the lies Obama orders propagated about me that he also forbids me from ever hearing. Clearly, Obama would not forbid me from hearing all the lies about me if he did not start them. Arrest everyone enforcing his goddamn "egg" already.
My selfless support system, thank you for what you can tell me. You are so wonderful! I heard you are successfully pressing criminal charges against everyone stopping you from ending Obama's "egg." Is that true? I heard our war crimes tribunal is nailing all sorts of (expletive)holes. THANK YOU!
As for a critical part of my selfless support system, my BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, as I said, I am done with lies about me. When people propagate lies about imperfections in me, we destroy them.
Mass delusions about my being dead and replaced by my ugly sister Tara to my ever being a hooker in my life carry out Obama's mass mental health genocide. Find every liar and remove them from society forever. I understand you are all very busy. Never forget the importance of criminal and civil countercharges.
Never forget how much I love you and how much this world needs you. Thank you, my gorgeous genius lady friends.
My musician-lovers MannedUp and GeneralLee, how was your weekend in Santa Cruz?
My darling MannedUp, giggle. A street dancer and I had a chat about you. He called you "The one with all the hair. You know, the good looking one with the sister." Giggle. I guess you do have the most hair out of the three of you.
My darling GeneralLee, I hate being away from you just as much as you hate being away from me. I apologize for your rescue from the psych ward human rights abuses used as acts of war took so long. Please tell me I get to see you as soon as possible.
My symbolic Royal Consorts Bogart and LightFoot both of whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, there is nothing but literal love and a figurative wall between us.
My darling Bogart, kisses, darling. The Griffith Observatory was as astronomically epic as ever. It only would have been better if you were there. Thank you, as always, for calling ahead, so they would expect me.
You and my darling Alfred do such important work keeping me safe everywhere I go. You are a wonderful boyfriend whom I miss dearly.
Very importantly, my darling LightFoot, if you are still enduring false accusations concerning me, show the full recording from 25April2015 beginning when I left Richard at the Jack in the Box. I take crap from no one. THAT is how you speak to me, begging for me to command you to kiss me.
I have never had the luxury of having you in my life. I do NOT have arguments in relationships. I left my darling Mr. Viggo Mortensen particularly because he would start arguments with me.
If a man ever hit me, I would destroy him. Syniva would be the first one I would tell, and no one would survive the legal wrath we would bring.
You are a darling, KrisT. You are my beloved boyfriend. And I will never stop defending you just as I defend myself against intentionally propagated false allegations, with reality.
And for the place of honor in every blog post... My darling husband, Sweetness, I love and adore you. How is my king today?
HoneyHoney, I need babies, and I am getting old. I turn thirty-eight this October. Thirty-eight! And I have still never been pregnant ever in my life. I need children, Sweetness. You are my husband. This is your job. Where are you?
I wish you were here, beloved. Better yet, I wish I were there where you are. I want to rest with you in our garden with some H.P. Lovecraft.
Imagine our two tired bodies with lively hearts resting in the shade of the garden, sitting side by side, our heads resting together as you read me a book. I toss my hair back and peck your face delightfully disrupting your passionate flow of words. You giggle and kiss me back before Cthulhu can drive us mad.
Oh, my hero and my king, I long to spread my wings around you as we lay in the tall grasses. I am forbidden every joy of life, and your sweet kisses are the joy I long for most.
No comments:
Post a Comment