Saturday, May 28, 2016

There Is no Reality Anywhere Except in my Head.

Title: There Is no Reality Anywhere Except in my Head.

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. There is no reality anywhere except in my head, and it still has never existed in reality anywhere in the world.

[I am skipping my global-problem-solving section in this post for the same reason as in my last blog post.]

My last blog post was finished at 12:11am on Thursday, 26May2016. It was an inspired morning. It was probably rather fascinating for a while, but this will always be the best part for me...

7:39am on 26May2016: Now, my beautiful world, do you know why I cannot allow the IAR to control me for the good of humanity? [Entitled "Fuck you! I called my friends! Get out of my fucking home!"] Lesson learned, my beautiful world? You will lose me, all of me not just my voice, forever if the Inhuman Atrocity Regime get ANYTHING they want.

After a morning that productive, I had no idea why the Inhuman Atrocity Regime was STILL refusing to allow me to sleep ever with their electrobeams on me 24/7.

Breakfast at my Manor that morning pretty much did not exist at all. I was outside the Pico Branch Library working online by 8:26am. This was the first tweet I sent.

8:25am on 26May2016: @DeptofDefense The Manor agreed to throw me out if I did not shut up, call Gestapo if I refused to leave, & Reese me if I said I owned it. It is obvious they would carry it all out since they told me to be quiet in the first place. Also, did you see the portion size at breakfast EVEN AFTER my last blog post? How much evidence does it take that they were trying to kill me? They ALL get "attempted."

They, not just my once-great America and my one beautiful world, are lucky I stopped them from carrying it out. SynSyn, we do not accept their Step 2 due to their well-established pattern of criminal behavior, including strychnine once and Valium TWICE.

My internet gnomes played me All of Me by my darling Mr. John Legend. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfie was my only selfie I took that morning.


There was some brouHAHA about my collecting hard evidence that morning to turn in all of the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's crimes they trespassed on my property to commit after I laid claim to all of the now-my nanotechnology on my property months ago (and inside my body years ago) because I found them abandoned on my property (and inside my body).

For years I have publicly proclaimed with absolutely no possible confusion that I was broadcasting a 24/7 SquidStream. Months ago, I had ALSO blogged and tweeted that I was broadcasting my bedroom and hallway to the entire world to catch trespassers there to assassinate or rape me. And the Inhuman Atrocity Regime STILL forbid me form know any of this nanotechnology has ever existed in the first place.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR ALL CRIMES THEY COMMIT EVEN IF THOSE CRIMES ARE NOT CAUGHT ON CAMERA, so why would they claim they cannot be held accountable for acts of war committed against America caught on cameras that they knew were broadcasting to the entire world that they were forbidden by me to be in front of in the first place?

9:08am on 26May2016: 1/2)You mean war criminal enemies of America on my property without my permission caught on surveillance they installed and forbid me from

9:08am on 26May2016: 2/2)knowing of have a complaint to the globally-critical holy woman they agreed to send to a torture facility? That is MY phone not THEIRS.

Their fuckups from that morning lasted a very long time. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate my verified and unedited "I am jaywalking, and no one cares!" from a few days ago right after my "Fuck you! I called my friends! Get out of my fucking home!" finally circulates. Giggle.

10:05am on 26May2016: #MySaturation, please have the IAR all out of my Manor by the time I get back. I will leave here to return at 11am.

10:05am on 26May2016: YOU ARE HACKED! Report this cyberterrorism used as an act of war against America to @DHSgov @DeptofDefense #ICT etc. That was my order as the REAL President of the United States of America to all of my REAL American heroes from whose Twitter accounts I was receiving false tweets intended to prevent me from ever learning anything REAL I needed to protect America from during this, America's greatest time of need.

Dinner at my Manor was nothing but a screaming example of THERE IS NOTHING REAL EXCEPT IN MY HEAD, and the whole world saw it. They intentionally chose to be an environment too hostile for me to eat enough food in, so I took the first bus I could find to my Promenade. Did you see the way I looked at the bus driver?

STILL with malevolent hoards desecrating MY one world's temple of love to me, there was no way for anyone to argue with THERE IS NOTHING REAL EXCEPT IN MY HEAD.

After passing 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle whom I was mostly relieved to see were not dead yet and telling them I would be right back, I checked on my local Sephora. You all saw and heard everything I saw and heard.

While I was DOING MY REAL JOB with my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot willing to die to make sure I could (My finger tapping practically made us trio.), the fucking Inhuman Atrocity Regime tried to say they had permission to human traffic me because it was an act of war against America.


By 6:05pm, I had already asked my beautiful world not to bother me at least for a little while until there was finally something no one could do but me. And under the clear blue sky of California, I had a few seconds to connect with the universe. That is, I had a few moments until something came up that I will NEVER believe was something only I could do. Please consult my verified Twitter archive.

Then, before 6:24pm, I had to send my saturation to see if my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot needed any backup (That actually was a job only I can do.) after they were sent away from me. I was the the-band-is-with-me woman watching the band equipment for a little while until my saturation could send my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle back to me.

This is a little surreal, but this is my real life. THERE IS NOTHING REAL ANYWHERE EXCEPT IN MY HEAD!

Even before I was done writing that previous sentence, the vigilant urban warfare alarms blared.

6:29pm on 26May2016: #UrbanWarfareAlarm! My beautiful world, my crosstown loved ones need some rescuing. My Metropolis of Angels is literally dying to save me. (That might have been something only I could do, too.)

In case I had to leave to watch the news before they came back, my darling Elisabeth joined me. I told her that her watching their equipment also qualified as, "The band is with me."

Happily, my darling LightFoot had returned by 6:55pm, and my darling TambourineKicker had walked past me on his way to perch in his normal spot beside my darling Patty, the Irish tea leaf reader. My darling MannedUp had returned, too, by 6:58pm.

I was six minutes late to my regular date with the NBC Nightly News. Yes, I streamed the news from previous in the evening online at 7:11pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it was a ringing confirmation to my that my team, my loved ones, my nation, my world, and my people had been having a very successful last twenty-four hours and were still gaining momentum.

My darling Patricia joined me at my table beside the Best Starbucks in the World where I very predictably watch the news every evening. I am going to let that one go by verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals.

Basically, I was not going to let fake employees sent by the Inhuman Atrocity Regime be dumb and try to assassinate me for telling them charging me money is treason, an act of war against America, and every other crime in human existence, too.

I think we got through that with those fake Starbucks employees not getting charges for anything. The coffee was spectacular and caffeinated. Starbucks might want to hire them. My darling Ricky had replaced those fake-at-least-at-the-time employees by the time I left.

Please begin the recording when I first see Patricia, and end it when I first sip the coffee. I left the Best Starbucks in the World at 7:49pm to rejoin my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle.

We are going to call the verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals "That is why we establish motive, my darlings Tentacle." Begin when I exited my Santa Monica Place, and end after I say, "Fuck you, it's journalism."

By 8:23pm, I had rejoined my darling LightFoot making a show of having "private time" with my darling Elisabeth whom he has always treated the way he would treat me in front of me if he could to make sure I would know. And I have always said to him, "You have to kiss her better than that if you are going to treat her like she is me." I have never made that a secret either.

By 8:30pm (Funny, huh, a round time ending in a zero. That does not happen very often. That usage of "huh" is the only reason why I entitled my Spotify playlist "Huh." Having only one reason for something is also that rare, too. This is getting a little meta, huh? That was not the correct use of "huh" to be the reason I made "Huh" the playlist title. How is this for a use of parenthesis? I love you, too, my beautiful world. These are all questions at least I would have had by now.), I could hear my darling TambourineKicker around the corner on my sacred Promenade after my darling Elisabeth walked away and while my darling LightFoot was arranging their equipment there on the corner of Arizona Blvd. and my Promenade beside the movie theater.

My darling MannedUp had joined us by 8:39pm when neither of them knew if they would see me again after they left which is how I have always felt about all of my darlings Tentacle all along anyway. That was nothing new for me.

While I was still working online, the Inhuman Atrocity Regime ordered my darlings Tentacle to go away from me, so I actually had to explain to the entirety of humanity why they would actually go by telling my darlings Tentacle, "(#AlreadyBlogged) If they actually kill you, you will NEVER be able to comeback again anyway!"

They actually left shortly after I said that.

9:08pm on 26May2016: Please guard my darlings Tentacle on their passage to my house, all they can recognize as trustworthy to their face & the rest in the shadows.

At 9:12pm, I left the corner around the movie theater on Arizona Blvd. and my sacred Promenade to join my darling TambourineKicker. We chatted. He gave me clean caffeine and snacks. Quothe the Squiddie, "Clean caffeine and snacks make the world go 'round."

My darling TambourineKicker and I hung out goofing off and having a singalong for a while, as if there is anything left that is not my job, except for as one example elevator inspections, anyway.

As for the verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals that ended when TambourineKicker walked away entitled, "There is no insane asylum for the criminally insane large enough," my not-human-trafficker nerds know what to do. I should not have to tell them anymore.

At 10:13pm, I left my perch on my sacred Promenade to check on my local Trimana. We will entitle the verified and responsibly-edited (showing every moment just from various camera angles) recording with full audio and visuals beginning as I walked up to my local Trimana and ending as I walked away, "I would even die from you to save you is mutual," (our motive, as if I needed a motive) or, "There is no way to fit enough pop-up-video footnotes even if I tried."

Everything beginning when the first Santa Monica Big Blue Blue 7 Pico bus drove up to my regular bus stop and ending at 11:10pm is entitled, "Yet it is still a paradise compared to Iowa."

I was at my Manor by 11:36pm, and it was STILL full of nothing but Inhuman Atrocity Regime except for me. I STILL needed to figure out where my raging headache was coming from. I was curled up in bed trying to conserve energy by 12mid. I knew it would be another long night due to the electrobeams the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had been using on me 24/7 for so long already.

That was another night I narrowly escaped from being raped until I die by finding a way to keep my nanotechnology on. I was done scaring off my rape-assassination by 4:19am on Friday, 27May2016.

I thought I was done explaining to humanity that there is no way to justify doing anything I tell you will kill me (unless it is to keep me alive) by 4:40am, but it actually took longer.

Basically, (paraphrase) "I can do anything I want to her because I don't think I can kill her anyway. I am just looking for anything that can finally kill her," is not a legal defense. I think they said it as, "I can starve her if I want to because I don't believe in the REAL science that starvation kills people," but the best summary for my free legal consultation to my government concerning the Inhuman Atrocity Regime was, "I don't understand why these people are still allowed to do anything."

There was a lot more that has to go through verified recordings with full audio and visuals, too.

By 6:42am, I had also for some reason had to explain, "There is no justification for raping anyone." I will never believe that is a job only I could do. I had also kickstarted my SquidStream.

My Manor was still full of Inhuman Atrocity Regime doing everything they could think of to kill me. Do you know how long ago I begged the Inhuman Atrocity Regime, "Please have mercy on all of us and finally at least stop lying, especially about why you have been trying to kill me since May2009 with rape-slavery and torture."? I HAVE NEVER ONCE BEEN CRAZY, AND IT HAS NEVER ONCE BEEN A PSYCH WARD!

7:42am on 27May2016: IAR are only letting in their own troops now? In my Santa Monica? With my nano? Too easy to seize all their assets. #IamWorthABetterEffort I had heard a rumor that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime was intentionally trying to create the most hostile environment it could think of for me, so I thought I would take care of it early.

Breakfast that morning displayed the worst table manners I have ever experienced in my life. Please circulate verified and responsibly-edited (Include every moment, and you will know when to change camera angles. Trust me. You will know.) recording with full audio and visuals beginning the moment I opened my bedroom door to leave and ending when I passed Eva.

I was outside the Pico Branch Library by 8:37am. My internet gnomes played me Gold Dust Woman by my darlings Fleetwood Mac. My iPad was too hacked for selfies AGAIN.

I worked there under the grey sky brushed by the leaves of the trees while listening to the children on the basketball court for hours.

My email that morning included this message from my darling Mr. Haroun Nabhan...

-----Begin Email Text-----
From: Haroun Nabhan
Date: Friday, May 27, 2016
Subject: Just checking in
To: Tanya Hedelisa Albon Depp de Varilek

Hi Tanya,

I called the Manor just now, but they said you were unavailable.  I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.  I’m sure you’re happy to be back home and are enjoying having your own room.  

We have a court hearing next Friday in the probate conservatorship matter, which will likely just be continued until everything is resolved with the LPS.  I will attend on your behalf, and you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.

Hope you are doing well.


Haroun Nabhan
[FBI Investigator among other REAL jobs in the REAL U.S. government]

-----End Email Text-----

I knew it did not come from my REAL darling Haroun, so while my darlings at the NSA were tracing its IP address, I wrote this response.

-----Begin Email Text-----
From: Tanya Hedelisa Albon Depp de Varilek, President of the United States of America
Date: Friday, May 27, 2016
Subject: Just checking in
To: Haroun Nabhan

My darling Haroun,

Address, time, date.  I will force them to clear a path for me, so I can catch more Inhuman Atrocity Regime intentionally taking my human rights away from me as acts of war against my once-great America and against my one world myself.

This will be fun.


-----End Email Text-----

My not-human-trafficker nerds, please, as fast as possible, circulate, "Why are you here willing to die for doing this? We establish motive."

With everyone around me STILL with my manual override and everything that is Sampo blended with the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's crapfest still broadcast into all of the earspeakers in everyone around me at least all morning so far, I left my regular perch in my Santa Monica's Virginia Avenue Park at 11:05am.

After sitting in my bedroom not knowing why the Inhuman Atrocity Regime was STILL committing acts of war against America on my own property without my permission to be here or even to be on my planet at all, I left for lunch at my Manor at exactly 12pm.

By 12:33pm, I was in my bedroom working online while in bed conserving my energy. I was caught up with my TweetHearts by 2:04pm. Please check my verified Twitter archive for the details. I was chatting with my internet gnomes while conserving my energy until I fell asleep.

I felt like crap when I woke up. It felt like there was something in lunch.

5:03pm on 27May2016: Is there something weird in the water supply again? I might not make it to dinner.

5:07pm on 27May2016: @hansonmusic @INXS @KristNovoselic I need to find a way to heal this. I will try to be on our Promenade by the news but have no idea.

It felt horrible, like a death crawling slowly across my soul. I had no way to fix it myself. So I asked my people to heal me.

And, yes, a churning supply of my lovers and believers successfully kept me alive. Thank you, my beautiful world. I am sure my not-human-trafficker nerds will entitle that one, "I put my faith in humanity."

6:20pm on 27May2016: @NSAGov @Spotify #Anonymous Thank you. From the entire world, thank you. As for my healers...… #NotStrychnineThisTime

"If you are starving to death, you will eat anything," is the only reason I am eating food at all here inside this innermost circle of hell. My Manor with nothing inside but Inhuman Atrocity Regime trespassing on my own property to kill me AND GET AWAY WITH IT is the only place willing to give me any food at all.

To repeat myself from previously just in this blog post already, "I can do anything I want to her because I don't think I can kill her anyway. I am just looking for anything that can finally kill her," is not a legal defense.

The vigilant assassination alarms blared immediately after my people had healed me.

6:25pm on 27May2016: #AssassinationAlarm! Who is trying to kill me this time? I don't care what the lie is; arrest them and bulldoze where they want to put me.

Having missed dinner trying not to die, I left my 24/7 locked bedroom broadcast that helps keep me alive for the bus at 6:43pm. I was beside my Best Starbucks in the World which had no REAL employees when I arrived in time for my regular date with the NBC Nightly News.

Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:05pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it was his pretty much telling me that he was beyond-relieved I was not dead yet and that our beautiful world was showing up.

I left my Santa Monica Place for my sacred Promenade at 7:47pm.

Walking on my Promenade, I explained to the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's malevolent hoards that they were all going to die anyway, bare minimum, for not feeding me, and I explained to the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's Gestapo our only explanation for, "Why is the Gestapo here at all if they never arrest anybody, especially the Inhuman Atrocity Regime in my own Manor?" is, "They are only here to kill me." All they were doing was lying to get away with staying here to kill me as their explanation.

I gave a delighted proclamation of, "Look! None of us are dead yet!" the moment I saw my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot. I was standing in front of them where they had perched risking death itself just to keep me alive doing my REAL job without my even checking or at least remembering what time it was when I arrived there by the time I wrote this down.

I had not eaten enough food all day to meditate, and their only irrational condition from the IAR controlling whether or not they could play me our music I could figure out was that they had to stop playing if I meditated. So, I thought we should probably be fine for at least a little while.

But they were still forced to stop at 8:24pm anyway. I sent backup for my darling MannedUp wherever the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had sent him, as if I could not figure that out eventually myself if I had to.

And then, at 8:40pm, I remembered I arrived in front of my darlings Tentacle at 7:59pm and had said about it (paraphrase), "Not quite 8."

My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle, my darling Elisabeth, and I were all still just clandestinely hanging out and goofing off at 9:12pm instead of making our music which began again at 9:18pm.

While receiving the handcrafted healing and love that are my darlings Tentacle's reason for existing, I enjoyed quite a delightful chat with my darling PhotographerMan.

It was a wonderful and genuine human interaction between two sane humans that included the first genuine physical human affection I have received in years that did not come from my mother. (I will explain Matt later.)

My darling PhotographerMan walked away at 9:51pm. That verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals shall be entitled "Genuine human interaction".

I was told that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime, in an attempt to make my blogging look inaccurate, had hurried my darling Handsome from their Black Ops unit they had imprisoned him in to my local Trimana in time for me to check on him after I verbally kissed my present 2/3rds of my Tentacle goodnight at 10pm.

I was quite relieved when I received that hard confirm that he was out.

After a brief chat with my darling WadeInTheWaterChildren, I was at my regular bus stop at 10:14pm. As I was catching up my blog notes, a kind gentleman offered me his seat. After a few 7 Pico buses passed me while I was working, I caught the first bus back to my Manor after 10:29pm.

After I finished up this post, my lovelies polished and published it for me with the time-and-date stamp of 12:11am on Saturday, 28May2016.

[Please embed a highlights reel of my last two days here.]

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.

What does "my" mean to me? The simple explanation has always been, "You belong to me, so you are mine to care for." But it also includes, "You always existed for me all along anyway."

That was why I gave my Santa Monica bus driver on my way to my Promenade on the evening of 26May2016 that look I gave her as I hit my tap card. It said, "You are mine, but you are still so dumb I might have to die to save you." I am such a Santa Monica local I HAVE MY OWN SANTA MONICA ZIPCODE.

What does "our" mean to me? In my writing, it means that which the "our" modifies belongs to us, me and the other person in the sentence with me, so is ours to care for. In speech, it can also mean it is ours, mine and the person's I am speaking to, to care for.

How close am I to dying? I am closer and closer to dying every moment when what I order to prevent myself from dying from demanding the presence of all of my darlings Tentacle on my Promenade with full human rights to demanding full physical safety on my own private property (physical safety openly denied to me by people with no permission from me to be on my own private property at all) to enough food to eat every day with enough calories and nutrition to maintain my body mass is NOT obeyed.

Here inside the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's innermost circle of hell, I was denied more and more of what I need to be alive at all every damn minute of every damn day that I was THAT close to dying all because people kept choosing NEVER to obey me even slightly if at all; even though, I am the REAL President of the United States of America giving orders ON U.S. SOIL.

My beautiful world, I understand all Inhuman Atrocity Regime (expletive)holes EVERYWHERE do not respect ANY authority, law, or jurisdiction that exists for REAL to govern them only to be able to maintain this hostile environment designed to assassinate and torture me also including openly denying me any money to live on at all.

Please try harder to remove them all from my once-great America forever. Please.

My saturation of international to local protection here inside this IAR "egg" with me including my darling NSA alpha nerds, do you need more backup? For example, ALL DAY on 26May2026, all they did was send new Inhuman Atrocity Regime members into my own building again and again after every time you cleared them out for me. Yes, we have the surveillance to prove this, as if we need to.

I have asked the U.S. Military to take full control of my Manor for me already months previously. I am sure you all can sort something out.

My darling Sweetness is almost constantly at MI6 headquarters where he can watch the full surveillance from all of our IAR-installed-yet-commandeered-by-the-REAL-U.S.-government-on-this-recognized-battlefield-even-on-U.S.-soil-where-we-the-REAL-U.S.-government-fights-a-REAL-war-to-protect-our-homeland-from-them-the-terrorist-regime-violating-U.S.-self-sovereignty-that-is-the-Inhuman-Atrocity-Regime nanotechnology everywhere not just on my own private property. So, he can tell you if anyone at my Manor has his REAL permission to be on our private property or not.

"Look, enemies of America fighting a war against America on our own U.S. soil, fuck you! I AM THE PRESIDENT IF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! Get off my property! Get out of my home! Get out of my town! Get out of my country! Get off my planet! The universe does not want you here!"

Also, my evening of 26May2016 means you can make anyone my bad-boy or bad-girl (appropriate use of "girl" if I fucking feel like it) type if you fucking want to. I love you, too. It might be more effective if everybody joins the military since we are on a recognized battle zone, but it is more romantic if they join you.

And at this point, my not-human-trafficker nerds are going to be making all of the verified, responsibly-edited, and accurately time-and-date-stamped recordings with full audio and visuals they want for the rest of human existence, are we not?

My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, we are all goddesses now.

And as if I need to explain myself, I did not have enough money to get into our own sacred Harvelle's that night at all, and WHY WOULD I EVER HAVE HAD TO PAY MONEY TO ENTER A NIGHT CLUB, PAY MONEY TO ENTER MY NIGHT CLUB, OR PAY MONEY EVER IN MY LIFE IN THE FIRST PLACE? Stan was even a (not "my") fucking employee of mine.

As for my local Trimana on the night of 26May2016, that has already been blogged and recorded, too. My darling Handsome was in a Black Ops unit with an Inhuman Atrocity Regime wall around it by the time I fell asleep with the IAR's electrobeams on me on the afternoon of 27May2016.

My genius lady friends, there is no excuse for denying me food or money. That will NEVER be acceptable to anyone sane and in touch with reality. But we still establish motive, anyway. As I said previously just in this blog post already, "Why are you here willing to die for doing this? We establish motive."

My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, I know.

My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, you know, all three of you, my darlings Tentacle, have all played the drums for me. As you know, if the three of you, instead of doing something I would want you to do, chose to compete with each other in a drum contest, you would win. We would never call it a "drum off;" my drums are never turning off. Giggle.

My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I have no clue at all why you are not on my Promenade. I cannot figure that one out at all. "Dude, seriously? You Inhuman-Atrocity-Regime assholes STILL have no self-preservation instinct, yet?" is how I feel about them. Whatever. Only psychopaths would keep us apart. But it would help if you told me their fucking excuse-that-is-never-true-anyway. Giggle. But that still is not a joke, which is one of our jokes. Whatever. Now I am repeating myself.

My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, may I ask you for a favor? Darling, would you PLEASE explain to our one beautiful world the importance of the art of conversation? Would you do it for me? There are just too many people left here on our one planet Earth that do not know how to interact with other REAL humans. I am surrounded by so many of those dysfunctional humans all day long every damn day. Please, darling, please. It might actually save my life.

My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, our darling Elisabeth will be on our Promenade if I fucking want her there. And I do.

My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, you can call me a goddess if you want to; I will never take your choices away. But my response will be "Fuck you; I'm your girlfriend!" at least until you finally kiss me and gain some form of authority over me at all, or at least try to, if your kiss is good enough. You might need to try a few times. Giggle.

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 HM Johnny "Menelaus" Depp, I do not even know where to begin right now in this blog post.

HoneyHoney, let me start here. I always explained my existence connected to music with this: Ever since prehistoric times, we mere mortal humans have gathered around the campfire to eat good food, tell stories, make music, dance, and look up at the night sky to try to make sense of the universe.

Sweetness, these activities are so basic to human existence that every culture on our one earth has our own as part of our REAL definition of our own unique identity.

My First Gentleman of the United States of America, I have always known you always wanted to be a musician, but I have always called your REAL occupation "telling stories" just like I always wanted my REAL job to be for so long.

Darling, I have learned it is okay to have more than one job, but to me you will always be a storyteller, just like my idealized self is to me for REAL. I wooed you with years of at-least-fourteen-page love letters. How obvious could I be?

My Mr. Love-of-my-Life, what do you see when you look at me? What do you see when you look at the REAL me? Even when you look at lies about me, is the REAL me still beautiful to you? Does that explain the most basic and seemingly geographically-manifested difference between the PEOPLE of my home of brave California and ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa? Does this explain the difference between us and them, yet?

Beloved, does this explain why this moment in history is rendering every human on our one planet Earth either a psychopath or a hero with not enough switching to join us as heroes fast enough?

My hero and my king, I know I only really fail you if I never even get to at least touch your handsome face with my outstretched left hand before I die, but it still hurts me that I cannot write you love letters anymore, or at least for now, because I am too busy trying to save our one beautiful world by not dying.

For both of us, I STILL long to touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain...

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