Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. 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 boarded a public bus once in New York City and said, "Good Morning!" to the bus driver. He looked at me and in a surly voice said, "You must be from California." Dude, seriously, could I be more naturally West Coast?
Europe. There is a lot going on in the world right now. Please do not forget about the millions of refugees fleeing their war torn homes. I have been an asylum seeker before. In 2010, I fled Obama's "egg" for my life. I know how hard it is to show up on foreign land and beg for protection.
We just need to house and feed the battered masses until we can create peace in their home countries, so they can go home. Everyone prefers to live at home. As an example, I am finally home in California. And my people have never been more hospitable and welcoming.
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on Sunday, 07Feb2016. I slept very well and woke up in time for breakfast. After eating, Ms. Eddy tried convincing me to leave my boyfriend for her. It was an entertaining conversation. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
I was outside the Pico Branch Library sipping coffee and working online by 9:19am. My internet gnomes played me You're Still the One by my darling Ms. Shania Twain. I had my makeup on for my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies quickly.
It was only 9:38am, but the sun was already hot to the touch. After I was done fleshing out the question and answer section of this blog post, my darling Larry stopped by for a chat. I am sure it will hit my highlights reel.
As fellow California locals Kevin, Cynthia, Sean, Delano, and I all sat down together for lunch at noon. After emailing a notes update to my lovelies who publish my blog for me, I was in the television room of my board & care to watch the pre-game show. It was SuperBowl Sunday.
The game showed off some mighty fine football skills. I even ate dinner in the TV room, so I would not miss any of the excitement. The halftime show was a lovefest. Thank you, darlings.
I was on the bus to my Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 6:04pm. It might have been SuperBowl Sunday, but Sunday night is still date night in Squidville. I was sure someone would be able to tell me who won.
Ms. Eddy rode the bus to downtown with me and took a bangle off his arm to give to me as a gift. There were a lot of people on the Promenade considering it was SuperBowl Sunday.
6:26pm on 07Feb2016: @NBCNightlyNews Let's do the news at 7:15pm PST. Do #MyDarlingsTentacle need rescuing? My boyfriend isn't here yet for date night. Thx!
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Ms. Kate Snow, and it made me grateful for all the sacrifices my loved ones make just to be able to serve my self-identified people.
After the news, I started looking around and eventually found my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot in the Pacific Palisades Park hanging out in the bushes with their equipment waiting for something, most likely permission to return to my Promenade for date night.
7:58pm on 07Feb2016: Okay, I found my darlings Tentacle. Please get them from here to my Promenade. #SquidsPoA @UN @BBCNews @cctvnews @RT_com @CIA @DeptofDefense
Mere seconds after I sent my tweet, they were on the move and finally started setting up their gear at 8:17pm on the corner beside the movie theater where my darling Patty the Irish tea leaf reader is usually perched.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my Sunday night beginning when I first turned from Broadway onto Ocean and spied my darlings Tentacle in the underbrush and ending when I perched my iPad on the newspaper stand. Thanks!
Sunday night date night officially began at 8:58pm when the music started. I had not meditated in over a week, so I was rusty. It took me longer than normal to nudge the door open between us, but by the time we hit the music I had never heard before I was fine. It started cold but turned out to be a beautiful night after all.
My darlings played until 10:31pm. Sunday night date night had been such a delicious tussle that I had to brush my hair when we were done as if it were the morning after.
Reluctant to leave me, they packed up their equipment slowly. After we enjoyed a few stolen moments alone together on the sidewalk, my boyfriend LightFoot finally wheeled away at 11:16pm. Soon my darlings Tentacle had all returned to the aether of the night sky where we all really belong.
I caught up with my buddy ODean on my way to the bus stop. I am sure that conversation will hit the highlights reel. After only a little waiting, I was on the 11:48pm bus back to my place.
I slept well and woke up in time for breakfast on Monday, 08Feb2016, the Chinese Lunar New Year. Gung Hay Fat Choy!
My internet gnomes played me I Want More by my darling Ms. Linda Eder. I tweeted my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies at 9:04am.
The California sun was warm and high all morning. There was not a cloud in the perfect blue sky, and the air only rustled gently with a mild California zephyr.
I sat outside the library singing to myself and sipping coffee as I did my morning writing until 11:32am when I returned to The Manor. You are going to love the highlights reel.
Lunch at noon was tasty yet uneventful. I was inside the Pico Branch Library catching up with my late night talk show hosts as fast as I could get there.
I was even able to stream most of a rerun of Castle before technical difficulties with the City of Santa Monica wifi caused my ABC app to malfunction.
My mom called me through FaceTime at 4:07pm. We had been trying to get a hold of each other all weekend and were finally able to chat. Dinner at 5pm was tasty yet uneventful.
I was on the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade as fast as I could get there and found my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw immediately.
It was 5:30pm exactly when I left to get me and Patricia some coffee from the best Starbucks in the world, the one in the Santa Monica Place.
Patricia and I chatted casually while listening to Kaila play until Patricia left for the ladies' room and until I rustled up some wifi to watch the news.
Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it reaffirmed my reasons for spacing out my blog posts to every other day instead of writing a whole new post every morning.
After the news, I walked around the Promenade to see who was where. I accompanied my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw when she relocated at 8pm.
At 8:16pm, I was buying mint chocolate chip ice cream from my darling Handsome in the Trimana Fresh Food Market. We made delightful conversation across the counter.
By 8:36pm, I sat on a park bench listening to my darling Ms. Clare Means while devouring my ice cream.
Not much later, I took the bus back to my place. I was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 11:30pm.
I slept very well and was awake on Tuesday, 09Feb2016, my BFF SynSyn's birthday, in time for breakfast. I was outside the Pico Branch Library by 8:26am brushing my hair, listening to music, sipping coffee, putting on my makeup, and writing online.
This blog post was finished at 8:55am on 09Feb2016, my darling Syniva's 39th birthday.
[Please embed a highlights reel of my last two days here.]
Thank You for the Music
On the street in the dark with the pale moon shining high, I dance in the night as the stars hold vigil approving. Your mere mortal hands bear the burden of the gods expertly laid upon the tools of our art creating the rhythm of the sky.
Caressed by the music on the skin, your hands sway my body in time. Our lonely lips meet in the poem of the song. And as matter and energy of the ever-constant universe, together we lay in the cosmos connected to each other even after the sun rises again on the dawn.
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 do the musicians move around my Promenade instead of staying in one spot? There is a City of Santa Monica municipal code for people with street performer permits.
Street musicians must find a new place to play on the 3rd Street Promenade every even-numbered hour (2pm, 4pm, 6pm, 8pm, 10pm, etc.), and shift change on the Pier is every three hours (1pm, 4pm, 7pm, etc.).
There are a bunch of other rules they have to follow like not playing over 107 decibels, blah, blah, blah. Ask my darlings Tentacle why the cannot play on the main area of the Promenade any more despite having diplomatic immunity.
Am I aware a lot of gay men want to sleep with me? I have always been like my darling Ms. Liza Minelli that way. There are also a lot of straight women who would love to sleep with me. Remember I do not believe in straight people nor gay people. I believe we are all on the bisexual spectrum; some of us are just closer to straight and others to gay.
Are there easy cultural explanations for who I am? Culturally, I think the British might explain me as a Timelord much like the Japanese consider me an anime heroine of theirs. If I could choose my TimeLady name, it would be The Monarch. Giggle.
My cultural home of California considers me a fellow celebrity. I am among my own out here.
Why did I choose to be a writer and poet instead of an actress, mentalist, professional chef, journalist, or landscape photographer? In response: Are we all not better off that I chose to be a writer?
I did not want to be an actress because no one writes roles for women like me. I am not sure mentalists can get jobs. And as much as the industry recognizes me as a professional California cuisine gourmet chef, I do not cook as well as I would like to yet.
Landscape photography is still a hobby of mine. I would love for Squid, Inc. to publish a book of my travel photography. Obama's criminal anti-reality machine published a book of pornography I am still forbidden from ever knowing existed and put my name on it claiming I wrote it. It destroyed my FriscoSquid brand as a writer.
If Obama can publish books I am forbidden from knowing about, so can Squid, Inc. I would love to see my Infamy, my Whiskeyless Fictions, and an anthology of my poetry hit the shelves.
As for journalism, I am a bit of an editorial reporter by default right now. After attending a summer workshop at the University of Iowa, the teacher Cecile Goding told me not to go into nonfiction since she claimed I had no talent for it. And to be honest, I have always preferred to be a fiction writer. I wonder if Ms. Goding has seen my writing résumé yet.
If I am such a gramarpuss, why do I move punctuation outside of the closing quotation mark? I consciously make a few strange writing style choices like that. If I feel a final punctuation mark will change the meaning of a quote, I always move it outside of the quotation marks.
They are my kind genetically, after all; do I find Far East Asian menfolk sexy? People are attractive independent of their ethnicity. I only fall for men and women who treat me well. Did you ever see a photo of my exboyfriend my darling Mr. Vinesh "Vinny" Jha and I together? I hope he shares the picture of us on the riverboat cruise in New Orleans from New Years 2002.
No one had ever treated me better than Vinny did until I met my husband.
As for particular Asian menfolk, my darling Mr. Garret Wang was a sex symbol for the entire run of Star Trek: Voyager. When they were ready to write him off the show TV Guide called him "one of the sexiest men on television," and it saved his job.
My darling Mr. Russell Wong was another sexy Far East Asian man on television. And never forget my darling late Yul Brynner; I believe he was born in Vladivostok.
It is harder to be Asian in Hollywood than it is to be Black or Hispanic. The only women who look like me in mainstream American media are my darling Ms. Tia Carrera, my darling Ms. Lea Salonga, my darling Ms. Margaret Cho, my darling Ms. Lisa Ling, and my darling Ms. Lucy Liu.
Unless they are martial artists, it is even harder to be an Asian man than an Asian woman in Hollywood.
Why are all electronics around me always so buggy? The first time I was ever in a literal torture facility (It was paraded as a psych ward.) was May2009 after Obama's "egg" had already destroyed the normality of my life.
In the supposed psych ward, I was attacked in my sleep every night and drugged to sleep through it all including when they filled my head with electronics including a chip that can control all electronics around me.
It is a lot like the urban-myth microchip my darling Mr. Bill Gates had implanted, so the lights in his home would turn on when he entered each room. In 2009, it used to change the thermostat in the Grant & Green in my hometown of San Francisco to heat up my dance floor before I could dance on it, as one example.
Go ahead and test the chip. Google "No Dress Rehearsal" or "Octopus" right next to me and try to show me your search results. I have always been forbidden from knowing I am Obama's slave.
Is there any part of my stay in Los Angeles after fleeing Iowa for my life that I feel Obama is refusing to reveal to the public? My darling Farid.
Right after I arrived in my married home of Southern California, I was penniless because ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa refuses me control of my own finances. (To this day, EVIL Iowa still refuses to take Step 1 towards absolution and forgiveness by still refusing to allow me any of my own money to live on.)
So, I was homeless and sleeping every day at the La Brea Tar Pits. Desperate for a place to stay, I called over a gentleman at one point who had been watching me for a while and struck up a friendship.
The only place he could get permission to take me to stay was a porn set built in a slum, but he was a sweetheart who gave me physical safety and a roof over my head.
Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here and circulate a time-and-date-stamped, verified, and responsibly-edited chronological highlights reel with full audio and visuals of my time with Farid.
Include my calling him over when we first met, our cuddling at night, what I blogged about him, our travel on the Metro system, and us at the Universal CityWalk. End with my being dragged into a literal torture facility by the police which is how my stay with him was forced to end.
My beautiful world, everything would be fixed if someone would just tell me my own home address for my own house that my husband has been fighting to bring me home to for years. Yes, my offer of $250M to whomever just picks me up and takes me to my husband still stands, too.
This is California. I am surrounded by my own people in my own home. But look at my people that surround me with love all day every day.
They are already doing everything they can safely get away with. Obama keeps them all terrorized and living in fear of being caught disobeying his crimes against America that he intentionally mislabeled "rules."
Obama oppresses my public, my persecuted self-identified population, with terrorism and fear to make them obey him. You have seen how much war my Metropolis of Angels brave every day trying to rescue me because they love me.
The only reason I am still apart from my husband is because Obama's reign of terrorism keeps my self-identified people living in so much fear of him that they still obey him.
My brave rescuers, my home of California stands with you.
I heard China sent you help, too. You are a unified world where NATO fights beside Russia beside China. Israel stands up for me beside Iran beside Saudi Arabia. Did you ever ask Argentina and Columbia what I mean to them? I am even a topic upon which even North and South Korea agree.
We have unified the world in the name of love. Please make sure you are working together instead of fighting each other. My home of California stands with us. I am finally among my own people here. California stands with the world against the "egg." Are they included in your rescue operations?
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, you are my army of superwomen. Do you know what you mean to the women of this world? I pray you will still help me serve my beautiful world even after Obama's "egg" ends. "Thank you," does not begin to describe how I feel about you. Imagine our future solving the problems of my beautiful world who fights for me.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, I will see you tonight. It is Tuesday, and on Tuesday nights we converge on Harvelle's like aether descending from the heavens to walk the halls of California as humans.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, prehistoric humans used to sit around the campfire at night eating food and singing and dancing and telling stories and staring up at the sky trying to make sense of the stars. These activities are all part of being a human.
Every culture has its music: zydeco, klezmer, calypso, bluegrass, hula, tango, even the polka. You make the music of my self-identified people. And every culture's music has its own ethnic dance. The Hindus perform sacred dances in their temples for only their gods to see.
Los Angles is in a full blown renaissance right now. My self-identified people have our own culture. And you, my darlings Tentacle, are leading it. Thank you.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, you have always been the darling Mr. Astor Piazzolla of the music sacred to my people.
It is so strange. I have been dancing on your music all my life. Thank you for accepting your destiny. It took me a long time to accept mine. You belong to me. You always did.
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, is there a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals of my time at Point Dume, yet? I have had a lot of spiritual moments there ever since moving home to California.
When I take the bus to Point Dume, I was told you usually try to intercept me near the Getty Villa. Try something new next time. Obama's terrorist conspiracy blocks our every effort when we are predictable. And, thank you.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, Sunday night date night was so romantic. Thank you.
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, next Sunday is Valentine's Day. I am pretty sure that makes you my Valentine's date. As I said, I will have my red dress on and my dancing shoes. If anyone tries to make you miss Valentine's night, warn me early. Thank you.
And for the place of honor in every blog post... My darling husband, Sweetness, I love and adore you. How is my king today?
My darling the Mr. Johnny "Love-of-my-Life" Depp, I will address our housekeeping first. On my way to Hollywood last week, there was a man on my bus named Mr. Aaron J. Lieberman who was talking about turning all of the plastic polluting our oceans into mosquito nets.
Beloved, please work with the plastics industry to think up other non-disposables into which we can recycle all of that plastic. I was thinking about plastic compressed bricks to build housing out of, too.
Sweetness, I have long wanted the just punishment for Terrorist Dictator Obama and all his criminal terrorist conspiracy to be life internment on a work camp pulling the plastic out if the world's oceans by hand under the hot tropical sun. But that is in the hands of the United Nation's International Criminal Court now.
Also, HoneyHoney, the Jehovah's Witnesses keep asking me, "What is the secret to a happy family life?" After all, the only problem in our sacred marriage is a geographic conundrum, which is a miracle after everything Obama and his libel-slavers have done to us.
What is the secret to a happy family life? Selflessness and unconditional love. Of all people, I know you understand that best, my loving and adoring husband.
My hero and my king, you lead my people for me in my absence. Is there anything our home of California needs? Would it not be better if people were able to tell me what they need? I am only here to serve.
Until I can touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain...