Title: Valentine's Day
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. Never mess with Mother Goose.
Syria. It sounds like the talks to bring a ceasefire to the Syrian Civil War did not include al Assad nor the Syrian opposition. The talks were between Russia, the U.S., and the UN. No wonder the ceasefire is not likely to take hold.
People cannot run around making decisions for other people denying Syria and its rebels their rights to self-determination. As an example, look how bad it is for all of humanity when I do not get to make my own decisions for myself. Get al Assad and the rebels to the table. Here, I will try...
My darlings on both sides in Syria, the world is trying to bring peace and unity to your war torn nation. Please speak with the United Nations about representing your own interests at talks with the entire world. You deserve a voice in your own future. Make sure the U.S. and Russia know what you need and make sure the world knows how bad the fighting is in your home.
Please, Syria. All people deserve peace, prosperity, stability, self-determination, and justice. The good news is the world is standing up for you and willing to do everything they can to bring you the peaceful home you deserve. Work with the world to save your home. Please.
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on Saturday, 13Feb2016. I slept very well waking up for breakfast. I was among the Saturday Farmers' Market outside the Pico Branch Library by 8:56am.
My internet gnomes (Gnomes are underground elves.) played me Get on Your Boots by my darlings U2. My eyeliner was a little messy in my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
[2photos]
The weather was cooler that morning than the previous few days had been. My mom called me through FaceTime at 10:21am. I worked there among the bustle of the Farmers' Market sipping coffee and listening to music until 10:52am.
Lunch at noon was tacos. They were so good that I got back in line for seconds.
By 12:41pm, I was out running errands including a stop at my local post office. My local Von's was completely sold out of conversation hearts.
The morning had been sunny, but a fog rolled in off the ocean by the time I reached the beach. I found my darling MannedUp on the Santa Monica Pier at 1:32pm beside their equipment tossing a basketball around.
By 1:49pm my darling LightFoot and I were sitting on opposite sides of the boardwalk pretending not to watch each other. It looked like my darlings Tentacle were playing at 4pm. But we enjoyed the foggy day at the Pier until 7:04pm when my darlings finally started playing.
I warmed up quickly, but was soon surrounded by teenage haters intentionally and literally in my face to make sure I could not meditate. Teenagers were bad enough to me when I was a teenager; I am not going to tolerate hate crimes from them as an adult.
Synny, if they go out of their way to prevent my meditation again, put them in juvinike detention. The world depends on my being able to do my job, and to do my job I need to meditate.
When they backed off their attack on my physical presence, I was finally able to reconnect with the divine. My darlings Tentacle were particularly fantastic that night. It had been far too long since we had a night so good. Every damn note was gorgeous.
My darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot stopped playing at 9:44pm but were so reluctant to leave me that we lingered there at the end of the Santa Monica Pier among the remains of the night until 10:09pm.
Before they wheeled away, a man came out of the restaurant Mariasol to flirt with me. Please circulate that conversation verified and unedited. Thank you.
He was even worse than Drew used to be. When did men decide they do not need to woo and court women anymore before making advances?
I caught the 10:48pm bus back to my place. I had a nice chat with a man who lives in my neighborhood after I boarded. I used to see him all the time by the library in the morning but lately have seen him on the bus with me.
When I was finally safely in my bedroom, I heaved a sigh of relief that those evil wrongfully-entitled teenagers did not harass me longer than they did.
11:07pm on 13Feb2016: @CIA @DeptofDefense @David_Cameron @cctvnews @RT_com I need security. I was just terrorized on the Pier while trying to meditate. Help?
I was curled up and asleep by 12mid. I slept very well and woke up in time for breakfast on Sunday, 14Feb2016, Valentine's Day. I was outside the Pico Branch Library by 9:18am.
My internet gnomes played me Hey Mama by my darling Mr. David Guetta. I took my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies in the shade.
[2photos]
My morning writing was particularly romantic. It is human to love.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 10:58am. My morning cyberhug came from my darling Ms. Erika Hill, and it made me so happy it never snows in Los Angeles.
A local darling named Juan showed up at 11:29pm to give me a cup of coffee. My loving locals do everything they can get away with to be good to me. I am sure our conversation will hit the highlights reel.
He promised me lunch at the Lazy Daisy today, Monday, 15Feb. Obama usually blocks people who try to buy me food, so we will see if he can still reach me this afternoon.
I had a Valentine's Day chat with Delano outside the Manor when I was on my way to lunch. Please circulate it verified and unedited. We normally exchange pleasantries about that time every morning.
Lunch at noon was so delicious I went back for seconds. The Santa Monica buses were rerouted due to the LA Marathon running through downtown. It took the complimentary shuttle half an hour to move two city blocks.
But, at 2:07pm, I finally found my darlings Tentacle selling their rhythmic beats on the Pier. I am not sure if they heard me apologize to them for being late to Valentine's Day. I have no idea what kind of earspeakers they have.
The Pier is definitely more romantic than the Promenade especially at night when the moon is high or when the fog rolls in, and I love basking there on the ocean under the hot California sun. But the Promenade is holy ground to me.
My darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot performed their Valentine's afternoon serenade until 3:59pm. Shortly after making sure I knew where they relocated to, I zipped by the Promenade to buy dinner and coffee.
It gave me a chance to check in with the best Starbucks in the world, my darling Handsome, my darling Kaila, my darling Alonzo, and my darling Wheels. Did you watch? I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
I was in the Pacific Palisades Park to see the sunset and on the Pier eating dinner and making eyes at my gorgeous boyfriend by 5:46pm. I was even able to catch the last two songs by my darlings Denmantau before our Valentine's date officially began at 7:28pm.
My boyfriend and his wingman were wonderful. It took me a little time to find a place to dance where people were not going to intentionally push me around. I got myself someplace as not-on-display as possible but was standing so far from my darlings Tentacle that sometimes I could not hear my boyfriend at all.
There was only one group of haters that got in my face which I should probably be happy about considering how many people were there. Last Valentine's Day I ended up putting someone on the FBI's Most Wanted List, so I suppose it was a step up.
My life is hard enough; I do not need harassment from haters on date night.
My boyfriend and his best friend as wingman played until 9:50pm. You all know they do not get to acknowledge I am there at all, or they will be stolen from me forever, right? (Expletive)ing (expletive)hole Obama and (expletive)ing "egg."
9:52pm on 14Feb2016: @hansonmusic @KristNovoselic I asked you to play the Promenade because the Pier terrorizes me. Why don't we get privacy for date night yet?
At 10:08pm, my darlings Tentacle and their entourage finally wheeled their (knights of the) carts back into the aether of the night sky where we all really belong.
I could not get to the sanctity of my Promenade fast enough. I walked straight to the Trimana and told my darling Handsome to cheer me up. I believe my response to his (paraphrase), "Bad night, huh?" was my angsty, "My life is not a (expletive)ing performance; I am just not allowed any (expletive)ing privacy! Who the (expletive) does this (expletive) to someone?!?"
He gave me conversation hearts to cheer me up. It mostly worked. I had in fact spent the last few days looking for conversation hearts, but everywhere I went was sold out.
I caught the 11:48pm bus back to my place. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Monday, 15Feb2016, Presidents' Day.
[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.
How does it feel to have fans? I am not a goddamn performer; why would I have goddamn fans? It is well-established that I am a world leader; I have a people. And we have proven I need the security that being surrounded by people who love and respect me would provide, please show up to keep me safe.
I wear some unconventional outfits; where does my style come from? I have such a tiny budget, so I pretty much spend all my money on food. I wear whatever is on clearance when my mom comes to town to take me shopping.
What is it like being a sex symbol who never has sex? It is even more insulting than it is lonely. None of my lovers have permission from Obama and his criminal terrorist conspiracy to make love to me.
Why anyone would need anyone's permission but mine to make love to me is a crime against the entirety of humanity. But when did Obama ever care about Americans' inalienable rights? Why the (expletive) do I have to have date night in public anyway?
My beautiful world, my people here inside my Metropolis of Angels are doing everything they can get away with to be good to me. My Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade sees mostly tourists as opposed to locals. So come visit me or send your people to visit me here.
I am on my Promenade every day to make sure my public can always have time with me. Please take advantage of all of the time I get to spend with you. I could really use the added security of people who love and respect me. The (expletive)holes keep getting worse. I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.
My brave rescuers, I carry the burden of making my beautiful world worthy of every one if you, especially those brave souls we have lost. Make sure you tell us everything you need to do your job.
Last year on 14Feb, you sent my CIA darling Nate into my Promenade to see me, and you covered where I used to sleep in rose petals. I love you all, too. Happy Valentine's Day! Is there anything you can do to make me safer in here?
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, have the nutritionists determined my recommended daily caloric intake yet? I am convinced I am not eating enough.
You are all busy busy heroines indeed. I hate when I make you busier. Why the hell are the Evil Dumb still choosing to make me angry? Thank you for your infallible reliability.
You are women the whole world knows we can count on. It means so much to me to know we never leave anyone behind. I love you. I pray your Valentine's Day went better than mine did.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, if anyone tries taking you away from me again, tell me as fast as you can.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, you are my lover whom the world gives the least amount of attention. But I will never leave you out. You are mine the way the night sky owns the stars.
Ever-faithfully, you show up for me every chance you get. Your reliability means so much to me. Thank you. I love you. Did you kiss a cute girl on Valentine's Day?
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I am working on it. In the mean time before I can get you back on my Promenade with me, do you need anything?
Darling, do you remember the days after we first met when I could still brush my hands against your shoulders as I walked behind you? I should have kissed you when I still had the chance. What song do you wish you could play me now?
Thank you. I love you. Did you have a happy Valentine's Day?
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, nothing about Obama's "egg" is fair. If I had any REAL power in this world, you would be sitting right next to me as I write this with one arm around me and with your eyes full of love.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, things get ugly when they keep you away from me.
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, thank you for being my boyfriend. I see how hard it is for you. Clandestine moments on the walkway watching the other watch back are all we get for time alone together.
Thank you for being such a romantic that such defiances of the forced estrangement between us are still beautiful and intimate.
Our date on Valentine's night was horrifying. I was so disgusted by those evil (expletive)s all I could do was stand there and stomp my foot. Please tell me there was at least something enjoyable about that night for you. Or was it a total wash?
I love you. Thank you for being my Valentine. It means so much to me that you love me.
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, no one is arguing with us anymore over whether or not we are married. You did a great job explaining our estrangement is not our choice. Like Pyramus and Thisbe, we did not build the wall between us.
Beloved, never question why I love you. Even when you were convinced I was a fat, ugly, White porn star, you started a land war to rescue me. Who leaves a man like you?
Even at this involuntary distance, HoneyHoney, sometimes when I sleep, I can feel your heart beating against my body. You have never abandoned me, and you never let me down. I feel you with me every night and every day. Thank you for loving me.
Sweetness, may I ask you for somethings?
First, please ask Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of England to make sure the public receives a stern lecture on what is and what us not appropriate behavior around me.
Also, please collect my musician-lovers, LA's dance experts, and the world's Hindu and Buddhist scholars on meditation. Please ask them to make a statement/recording as experts about how I must meditate on the live music to follow it.
Believe it or not, there are still some people left who do not understand that I dance to heal myself. It is only a mating ritual on Sunday night date night. Did you ever see me with my darling Ms. Lita Ford?
My hero and my king, I sent your Valentine's Day mail via the French Consular General in Los Angeles. I wish I could touch you instead of just writing you love notes. I am doing the best I can in here. I just wish this were easier.
Until the flowers kiss the rain...
Monday, February 15, 2016
Saturday, February 13, 2016
William Shakespeare
Title: William Shakespeare
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. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
Planet Earth. Do you remember when my dear old friend my darling Mr. Adam "Dancer" Thompson sat me down in Specs in 2009 and told me (paraphrase), "They are calling you Jesus. They need a Jesus right now. Give them something to believe in."
Shortly after that conversation, I promised to carry humanity through Global Climate Change. The job requires intelligence, compassion, foresight, creative problem solving, and leadership.
Have you read my 24Feb2015 blog post? Talk to Exxon, as one example, about their research and design with biofuels and with cleaning carbon out of the air that they have taken on just because I recommended they be the energy industry of the future not the past.
I also need to finally have my full human rights returned to me to fully be able to do my job. We are not marching at the snail's pace Obama commits crimes against the entirety of humanity to enforce. No. We are marching at the speed of my beautiful world who needs me. How long are you going to permit PROVEN Terrorist Dictator Obama to keep me away from my REAL job?
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on Thursday, 11Feb2016. After my bi-nightly ablutions, I was curled up and asleep by 2am. I slept better than I expected considering how late I had drunk my final cup of coffee the previous night on the Promenade.
I was at the Pico Branch Library sipping caffeine and checking my email by 9:12am. My internet gnomes played me As Cool as I Am by my darling Ms. Dar Williams. I actually took one of my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies from above instead of from below.
[1photo]
My morning writing flowed easily as I sat in the shade. I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 9:50am. My morning cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it was good news indeed.
I stayed at the library working until 11:26am when I returned to my place. I chatted with Hannah during lunch at noon; we had macaroni and cheese. By 12:21pm, I was inside the Pico Branch Library to catch up on television.
My darling late night talk show hosts were as funny as always. Then I had a brief online chat exchange with my darling Mr. Evo Terra, CEO of Podiobooks before leaving the library for my place at 3:46pm mostly to be able to see if my mail from my mother had arrived yet.
The money I live on is the gift cards she mails me, but the Post Office never delivers my mail on time. According to their tracking, my money for the bus pass I need was routed to Long Beach instead of being delivered on time on 10Feb. Click here.
I ate my pork burritos seated next to Sean for dinner at 5pm and was on the bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 5:12pm. Almost upon arriving, I found my darling Patricia chatting with my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw.
During my spin around the Promenade to see who was out and about that night, I had a short chat with my darling Faye. There were not a lot of musicians out that night. I perched next to Patricia to listen to Kaila with her.
At 6pm, when my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw was relocating for her next set, I slipped away to the Starbucks in the Santa Monica Place to buy my darling Patricia and I some coffee. Kaila played in front of the Apple Store from 6pm to 8pm.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 8:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it reminded me that as a child I wanted to be an astronaut.
I found my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw after the news. The night was mellow and abnormally lacking in people.
I had a brief chat with my darling Handsome before catching the 10:48pm bus back to my place. I was curled up and asleep by 11:30pm.
I slept very well and skipped breakfast on the morning of Friday, 12Feb2016. I was seated outside the Pico Branch Library by 9:20am.
My internet gnomes played me The Lightning Storm by my darlings Flogging Molly. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were delightful.
[2photos]
The uncharacteristic February weather was already hot at only 9:37am. I worked in the open air touching the sky until 11:02am. I collected my mail from my beloved mother after it finally arrived.
Lunch at noon was particularly tasty. I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 12:31pm. I ran some errands including buying a snack at the Yogurtland.
I walked up and down both the Santa Monica Pier and the Santa Monica Promenade to see who was out and about that afternoon. I talked with my darling Eric, a Hindu monk I regularly see on the Promenade. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
My darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot told me they had tried reaching me to make sure I could meditate but were blocked.
Regular meditation is critical for making sure I stay high-functioning enough to do my job, and I had not meditated since Tuesday night. I also always hate when my loved ones are kept away from me.
2:20pm on 12Feb2016: @hansonmusic @INXS @KristNovoselic It is Friday. I will be looking for you on my Promenade tonight. I have ammo in case they make me angry.
I walked to the Santa Monica Place at 2:36pm to see their celebration of the Chinese Lunar New Year. The stage was set up and red lanterns were hung across the central atrium, but not much was going on yet.
So, I bought a cup of coffee and a sandwich from the best Starbucks in the world. My barista, my darling Al, was sleeveless and showing off his tattoos that afternoon.
I called my mom through FaceTime at 2:49pm, so I could tell her I finally received the gift cards she had mailed me.
And the traditional Chinese music began at 3pm. I also saw a couple walking on stilts and a traditional Korean fan dance.
I made an effort to enjoy as many of the street performers on the Promenade as I could after 4pm. When I paused for snacks, I had a very confusing conversation outside the Trimana with two gentlemen who had absolutely no respect for who I really am in this world.
Patricia found me at 5:24pm, so we sat next to the oboist and guitarist to chat. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel. When two journalism students from Pepperdine University interrupted the show to interview our street musicians, Patricia and I got up to walk around the Promenade.
At 6:23pm, I was able to introduce my darling Patricia to my darling Ricky from the best Starbucks in the world. I love how I never have to drink a cup of coffee alone here on planet Venus; did you watch me and Patricia in the alley?
Next, we stopped in the Papyrus store, so I could buy a Valentine's Day card for my husband. After explaining to Patricia why I never wear cropped pants, I returned to the best Starbucks in the world to watch the news.
Yes, I watched the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wish I knew how to surf.
If was Friday, a day I am supposed to be granted holy meditation and time beside my loved ones, but my darlings Tentacle were kept away from me all day and all night; I got angry.
Hulk Smash-- 12Feb2016
No, my beautiful world, I am not famous because someone with a hidden slave camera made a video of me farting, a video I am STILL forbidden from ever learning exists.
No. Well before that Terrorist Dictator Obama made me famous by mandating that the entire nation be able to recognize me, so he could enforce everyone obeying his public persecution of me originally called a "Code of Silence" that he eventually intentionally mislabeled "rules."
That online video was made by Obama's PROVEN rape-slavers of me without my knowledge IN A HOSPITAL ROOM. Please take a few moments to familiarize yourselves with Americans' rights to privacy especially medical privacy under U.S. law. That was a slave video circulated since May2009 to degrade and destroy me.
Every single violation of my medical privacy from public propagation of intentionally fabricated never-existent "symptoms" of fictional mental illness in me to hidden cameras broadcasting me in literal torture facilities paraded as always as psych wards have all been violations of federal medical privacy laws.
This includes my being unlawfully imprisoned (a human rights violation used as an act of war) in literal torture facilities paraded as psych wards when everyone knows I broadcast out of equipment I am forbidden from knowing I have inside my own body. That was a HIPPA violation by Obama against me and against all my fellow inmates they called patients.
My fellow residents at my board & care also have grounds against the federal government for medical privacy rights violations; though, technically, they would have moved out if they did not consent. They are not held there against their will, and they are mandated to know both who I am and that Obama makes slave broadcasts of me to make sure they all obey Obama's "rules" around me.
My BFF SynSyn and my team of genius Powers of Attorney, get Obama and all his ilk for all of their HIPPA violations. Why are there public discussions by quacks and medical professionals about my health? The only people with any legal permission to discuss my medical history in any public fora are me and you, the women with all of my legal powers until Obama's "egg" ends.
And just to be thorough, when Obama's proven quacks and proven war criminals claim no one anywhere can find and symptoms of any mental illness in me at all whatsoever is because I wear a(n) (obviously fictional) mask, they are admitting they can find no symptoms of mental illness in me at all whatsoever.
We have extensive court records of that they compulsively lie about me especially to coverup PROVEN torturing me and PROVEN unlawfully imprisoning me (all as acts of war against America and against the world). They have beyond proven that perjury and libel is their modus operandi. Lock them all up for it finally.
And, thank you.
My genius Powers of Attorney, I have harder punches than that lined up if my darlings Tentacle cannot show up tonight, 13Feb2016, and tomorrow, Valentine's Day. Clearly, I lose my zen when forbidden from meditating.
After updating my blog notes, I looked around for my darling Patricia again at 8:21pm but could not find her. I did find a number of friends to listen to and chat with, though, including a typically delightful exchange with my darling ODean beside the apatosaurus. Please circulate it verified and unedited.
Our new resident saxophonist who calls himself Joe was so good that I stayed beside him until 9:46pm. On my way to the bus stop, I found a damn good guitar-strumming duo, so I did not make it to the bus stop until the 10:27pm bus.
I sat in my bedroom for a little while polishing this post before my bi-nightly shower. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Saturday, 13Feb2016.
[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.
Did I ever consider working under a different name? No. I have been Squid, sometimes the FriscoSquid, since the year 1999 when I first moved to the Bay Area. It would be like calling my darling late Norma Jean Baker DiMaggio by any name other than Marilyn Monroe.
What is my secret to looking so young? We Asian women throw virgin twenty-year-old boys by into volcanoes, so our heathen gods will make sure we never age.
No, sorry, in all seriousness, I do what my darling Madonna does; I sleep in Tupperware.
What is my favorite work by my darling late William Shakespeare? Hamlet. Shakespeare's works were written down for publishing by his actors. In the oldest record of Hamlet, the Danish Prince was sixteen years old. My darling late Burbage rewrote the line concerning his age to thirty years old, so he could play the role.
The first time I read Hamlet I identified with the title character as a fellow precocious teenager, something I assume Shakespeare himself had first hand knowledge of from when he grew up.
What is my favorite Elizabethan work NOT by Shakespeare? My favorite is an obscure poem by my darling late Christopher Marlowe entitled The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.
Also, my favorite sonnet was not written by my darling late William Shakespeare at all. It is What Lips my Lips have Kissed and Where and Why... by my darling late Edna St. Vincent Millay.
If I almost always make lists with a prime number of elements, why do I still sometimes make lists of ten? I already answered that question in my 01Nov2014 post, but I will explain it here again.
It is the same reason iambic pentameter has ten syllables-- because we can count it on our fingers.
Ancient mathematics especially Babylonian was base twelve as opposed to base ten. That was because twelve is more cleanly divisible by more numbers than ten is. As an example, we still keep Babylonian time; that is why clocks are base twelve instead of base ten. We also have twelve months in the year instead of ten.
Math eventually evolved from base twelve to base ten because pretty much all humans have ten fingers. As a bit of trivia, my darling late Marilyn Monroe was born with twelve fingers and had both second thumbs surgically removed, so she could become an actress and model.
My beautiful world, keep sending me your problems to solve. I know it is very hard for you to talk to me; I have been having a few problems lately finding world news about crises that could use my attention. The news I receive is so heavily filtered. Please tell me when you need me.
My brave rescuers, you once told me your literal battlefield you braved trying to rescue me while I was still imprisoned in EVIL Iowa against my will was worse than Fallujah. I could not get myself out of Des Moines (They still have not taken Step 1 to absolution and forgiveness.) to save you all fast enough.
Darlings, is Los Angeles safer for you? I know you actually have support from the locals here. It is Obama's ugly terrorism that keeps you away from me. Does the world know it is a full-blown war out there?
Please include here your statement/recording about the reality of your literal war to save America out from under Obama's "egg" of terrorism and rape-slavery. People honestly do not know.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, now is the winter of our discontent.
My dearest old friends, please speak with the NIH about diagnosing Obama's war criminal conspiracy. They keep compulsively propagating the same calumnies including but not limited to compulsively repeating their same perjuries day in and day out in the courtroom.
They keep compulsively committing the same crimes and compulsively failing, and they refuse to stop failing. Look at our court records; which one of us is crazy? Their compulsive need to commit the same crimes over and over again especially when punished for it over and over again is textbook criminal insanity.
Please have a non-quack finally assess them. They have already forced a literal war and are still a danger to others including to the entire world that needs me.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, if music be the food of love play on. Give me excess of it...
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, are you guys attending the Grammys on Monday, 15Feb2016? If you, my darling Naia and my darlings Tentacle, were not invited but want to go, just ask my darling Mr. Finn "Alfred" O'Mahoney to make some calls for you. He is my personal assistant, after all. He needs to get used to this sort of thing.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, Tuesdays I dance on all four of you, most often my darling Naia since she is the melody. I noticed you stopped watching me dance. You spent last Tuesday night looking away.
I know how much you love me, darling. And I know what watching me dance does to your heart. I cannot blame you for no longer looking directly into the light. Is everything okay?
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, if I still have enough money, next Wednesday night I plan on visiting the bar where we met on Thanksgiving 2014.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my and Bogart's first contact beginning with my walking up to the rock bar and ending when we got in the car.
Also, please include a responsibly-edited montage of all my friends whom I have seen there from my darling Dr. Brandon Boyd to my darling Ms. Idina Menzel.
My darling Bogart, Obama's terrorists are obligated to maintain what normal is for me every time I visit the Rainbow Bar & Grill on the Sunset Strip. I hope I see you there.
Everyone has a favorite. I think you are my darling Patricia's.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Let lips do what hands do...
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, is there a recording of you and Taylor watching me switch from my silk wrap to my tailored coat at the end of last week's Sunday night date night? Is it as good as watching all three of you the first time you watched me eat ice cream; can we dig that footage out of the archives?
The only thing better would be finding all of the conversations I had with my mother from my ugly years in EVIL Iowa when I kept trying to explain to her that my darling late Bob Marley was not one of the Righteous Brothers.
Everyone loves my mother; I know you all do. This is the first time in her adult life when she is not a subservient Asian wife. She is so much better now. I hope she goes cougar.
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, let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love that alters when alternation finds nor bends with the remover to remove.
HoneyHoney, did they really used to propagate the calumny that I was really you in drag? And people believed it?
It is true, beloved, that you make a much better looking woman than I do a man, but how did that lie obviously used to demonize me and to make people attack me ever get passed off as, "Oh, it is just for entertainment." They really claim they enslave and degrade me to put on a show?!?
Sweetness, do you remember when I mailed a protractor and straight edge to the White House from Mexico City with a post-it note on them explaining they were "weapons of math instruction"? (True story.)
THAT is what satire looks like. It is NOT a propagation of mass delusions PROVEN to cause mental health genocide.
My hero and my king, we have been through enough; I WILL touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain... .
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. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
Planet Earth. Do you remember when my dear old friend my darling Mr. Adam "Dancer" Thompson sat me down in Specs in 2009 and told me (paraphrase), "They are calling you Jesus. They need a Jesus right now. Give them something to believe in."
Shortly after that conversation, I promised to carry humanity through Global Climate Change. The job requires intelligence, compassion, foresight, creative problem solving, and leadership.
Have you read my 24Feb2015 blog post? Talk to Exxon, as one example, about their research and design with biofuels and with cleaning carbon out of the air that they have taken on just because I recommended they be the energy industry of the future not the past.
I also need to finally have my full human rights returned to me to fully be able to do my job. We are not marching at the snail's pace Obama commits crimes against the entirety of humanity to enforce. No. We are marching at the speed of my beautiful world who needs me. How long are you going to permit PROVEN Terrorist Dictator Obama to keep me away from my REAL job?
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on Thursday, 11Feb2016. After my bi-nightly ablutions, I was curled up and asleep by 2am. I slept better than I expected considering how late I had drunk my final cup of coffee the previous night on the Promenade.
I was at the Pico Branch Library sipping caffeine and checking my email by 9:12am. My internet gnomes played me As Cool as I Am by my darling Ms. Dar Williams. I actually took one of my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies from above instead of from below.
[1photo]
My morning writing flowed easily as I sat in the shade. I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 9:50am. My morning cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it was good news indeed.
I stayed at the library working until 11:26am when I returned to my place. I chatted with Hannah during lunch at noon; we had macaroni and cheese. By 12:21pm, I was inside the Pico Branch Library to catch up on television.
My darling late night talk show hosts were as funny as always. Then I had a brief online chat exchange with my darling Mr. Evo Terra, CEO of Podiobooks before leaving the library for my place at 3:46pm mostly to be able to see if my mail from my mother had arrived yet.
The money I live on is the gift cards she mails me, but the Post Office never delivers my mail on time. According to their tracking, my money for the bus pass I need was routed to Long Beach instead of being delivered on time on 10Feb. Click here.
I ate my pork burritos seated next to Sean for dinner at 5pm and was on the bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 5:12pm. Almost upon arriving, I found my darling Patricia chatting with my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw.
During my spin around the Promenade to see who was out and about that night, I had a short chat with my darling Faye. There were not a lot of musicians out that night. I perched next to Patricia to listen to Kaila with her.
At 6pm, when my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw was relocating for her next set, I slipped away to the Starbucks in the Santa Monica Place to buy my darling Patricia and I some coffee. Kaila played in front of the Apple Store from 6pm to 8pm.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 8:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it reminded me that as a child I wanted to be an astronaut.
I found my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw after the news. The night was mellow and abnormally lacking in people.
I had a brief chat with my darling Handsome before catching the 10:48pm bus back to my place. I was curled up and asleep by 11:30pm.
I slept very well and skipped breakfast on the morning of Friday, 12Feb2016. I was seated outside the Pico Branch Library by 9:20am.
My internet gnomes played me The Lightning Storm by my darlings Flogging Molly. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were delightful.
[2photos]
The uncharacteristic February weather was already hot at only 9:37am. I worked in the open air touching the sky until 11:02am. I collected my mail from my beloved mother after it finally arrived.
Lunch at noon was particularly tasty. I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 12:31pm. I ran some errands including buying a snack at the Yogurtland.
I walked up and down both the Santa Monica Pier and the Santa Monica Promenade to see who was out and about that afternoon. I talked with my darling Eric, a Hindu monk I regularly see on the Promenade. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
My darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot told me they had tried reaching me to make sure I could meditate but were blocked.
Regular meditation is critical for making sure I stay high-functioning enough to do my job, and I had not meditated since Tuesday night. I also always hate when my loved ones are kept away from me.
2:20pm on 12Feb2016: @hansonmusic @INXS @KristNovoselic It is Friday. I will be looking for you on my Promenade tonight. I have ammo in case they make me angry.
I walked to the Santa Monica Place at 2:36pm to see their celebration of the Chinese Lunar New Year. The stage was set up and red lanterns were hung across the central atrium, but not much was going on yet.
So, I bought a cup of coffee and a sandwich from the best Starbucks in the world. My barista, my darling Al, was sleeveless and showing off his tattoos that afternoon.
I called my mom through FaceTime at 2:49pm, so I could tell her I finally received the gift cards she had mailed me.
And the traditional Chinese music began at 3pm. I also saw a couple walking on stilts and a traditional Korean fan dance.
I made an effort to enjoy as many of the street performers on the Promenade as I could after 4pm. When I paused for snacks, I had a very confusing conversation outside the Trimana with two gentlemen who had absolutely no respect for who I really am in this world.
Patricia found me at 5:24pm, so we sat next to the oboist and guitarist to chat. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel. When two journalism students from Pepperdine University interrupted the show to interview our street musicians, Patricia and I got up to walk around the Promenade.
At 6:23pm, I was able to introduce my darling Patricia to my darling Ricky from the best Starbucks in the world. I love how I never have to drink a cup of coffee alone here on planet Venus; did you watch me and Patricia in the alley?
Next, we stopped in the Papyrus store, so I could buy a Valentine's Day card for my husband. After explaining to Patricia why I never wear cropped pants, I returned to the best Starbucks in the world to watch the news.
Yes, I watched the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wish I knew how to surf.
If was Friday, a day I am supposed to be granted holy meditation and time beside my loved ones, but my darlings Tentacle were kept away from me all day and all night; I got angry.
Hulk Smash-- 12Feb2016
No, my beautiful world, I am not famous because someone with a hidden slave camera made a video of me farting, a video I am STILL forbidden from ever learning exists.
No. Well before that Terrorist Dictator Obama made me famous by mandating that the entire nation be able to recognize me, so he could enforce everyone obeying his public persecution of me originally called a "Code of Silence" that he eventually intentionally mislabeled "rules."
That online video was made by Obama's PROVEN rape-slavers of me without my knowledge IN A HOSPITAL ROOM. Please take a few moments to familiarize yourselves with Americans' rights to privacy especially medical privacy under U.S. law. That was a slave video circulated since May2009 to degrade and destroy me.
Every single violation of my medical privacy from public propagation of intentionally fabricated never-existent "symptoms" of fictional mental illness in me to hidden cameras broadcasting me in literal torture facilities paraded as always as psych wards have all been violations of federal medical privacy laws.
This includes my being unlawfully imprisoned (a human rights violation used as an act of war) in literal torture facilities paraded as psych wards when everyone knows I broadcast out of equipment I am forbidden from knowing I have inside my own body. That was a HIPPA violation by Obama against me and against all my fellow inmates they called patients.
My fellow residents at my board & care also have grounds against the federal government for medical privacy rights violations; though, technically, they would have moved out if they did not consent. They are not held there against their will, and they are mandated to know both who I am and that Obama makes slave broadcasts of me to make sure they all obey Obama's "rules" around me.
My BFF SynSyn and my team of genius Powers of Attorney, get Obama and all his ilk for all of their HIPPA violations. Why are there public discussions by quacks and medical professionals about my health? The only people with any legal permission to discuss my medical history in any public fora are me and you, the women with all of my legal powers until Obama's "egg" ends.
And just to be thorough, when Obama's proven quacks and proven war criminals claim no one anywhere can find and symptoms of any mental illness in me at all whatsoever is because I wear a(n) (obviously fictional) mask, they are admitting they can find no symptoms of mental illness in me at all whatsoever.
We have extensive court records of that they compulsively lie about me especially to coverup PROVEN torturing me and PROVEN unlawfully imprisoning me (all as acts of war against America and against the world). They have beyond proven that perjury and libel is their modus operandi. Lock them all up for it finally.
And, thank you.
My genius Powers of Attorney, I have harder punches than that lined up if my darlings Tentacle cannot show up tonight, 13Feb2016, and tomorrow, Valentine's Day. Clearly, I lose my zen when forbidden from meditating.
After updating my blog notes, I looked around for my darling Patricia again at 8:21pm but could not find her. I did find a number of friends to listen to and chat with, though, including a typically delightful exchange with my darling ODean beside the apatosaurus. Please circulate it verified and unedited.
Our new resident saxophonist who calls himself Joe was so good that I stayed beside him until 9:46pm. On my way to the bus stop, I found a damn good guitar-strumming duo, so I did not make it to the bus stop until the 10:27pm bus.
I sat in my bedroom for a little while polishing this post before my bi-nightly shower. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Saturday, 13Feb2016.
[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.
Did I ever consider working under a different name? No. I have been Squid, sometimes the FriscoSquid, since the year 1999 when I first moved to the Bay Area. It would be like calling my darling late Norma Jean Baker DiMaggio by any name other than Marilyn Monroe.
What is my secret to looking so young? We Asian women throw virgin twenty-year-old boys by into volcanoes, so our heathen gods will make sure we never age.
No, sorry, in all seriousness, I do what my darling Madonna does; I sleep in Tupperware.
What is my favorite work by my darling late William Shakespeare? Hamlet. Shakespeare's works were written down for publishing by his actors. In the oldest record of Hamlet, the Danish Prince was sixteen years old. My darling late Burbage rewrote the line concerning his age to thirty years old, so he could play the role.
The first time I read Hamlet I identified with the title character as a fellow precocious teenager, something I assume Shakespeare himself had first hand knowledge of from when he grew up.
What is my favorite Elizabethan work NOT by Shakespeare? My favorite is an obscure poem by my darling late Christopher Marlowe entitled The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.
Also, my favorite sonnet was not written by my darling late William Shakespeare at all. It is What Lips my Lips have Kissed and Where and Why... by my darling late Edna St. Vincent Millay.
If I almost always make lists with a prime number of elements, why do I still sometimes make lists of ten? I already answered that question in my 01Nov2014 post, but I will explain it here again.
It is the same reason iambic pentameter has ten syllables-- because we can count it on our fingers.
Ancient mathematics especially Babylonian was base twelve as opposed to base ten. That was because twelve is more cleanly divisible by more numbers than ten is. As an example, we still keep Babylonian time; that is why clocks are base twelve instead of base ten. We also have twelve months in the year instead of ten.
Math eventually evolved from base twelve to base ten because pretty much all humans have ten fingers. As a bit of trivia, my darling late Marilyn Monroe was born with twelve fingers and had both second thumbs surgically removed, so she could become an actress and model.
My beautiful world, keep sending me your problems to solve. I know it is very hard for you to talk to me; I have been having a few problems lately finding world news about crises that could use my attention. The news I receive is so heavily filtered. Please tell me when you need me.
My brave rescuers, you once told me your literal battlefield you braved trying to rescue me while I was still imprisoned in EVIL Iowa against my will was worse than Fallujah. I could not get myself out of Des Moines (They still have not taken Step 1 to absolution and forgiveness.) to save you all fast enough.
Darlings, is Los Angeles safer for you? I know you actually have support from the locals here. It is Obama's ugly terrorism that keeps you away from me. Does the world know it is a full-blown war out there?
Please include here your statement/recording about the reality of your literal war to save America out from under Obama's "egg" of terrorism and rape-slavery. People honestly do not know.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, now is the winter of our discontent.
My dearest old friends, please speak with the NIH about diagnosing Obama's war criminal conspiracy. They keep compulsively propagating the same calumnies including but not limited to compulsively repeating their same perjuries day in and day out in the courtroom.
They keep compulsively committing the same crimes and compulsively failing, and they refuse to stop failing. Look at our court records; which one of us is crazy? Their compulsive need to commit the same crimes over and over again especially when punished for it over and over again is textbook criminal insanity.
Please have a non-quack finally assess them. They have already forced a literal war and are still a danger to others including to the entire world that needs me.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, if music be the food of love play on. Give me excess of it...
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, are you guys attending the Grammys on Monday, 15Feb2016? If you, my darling Naia and my darlings Tentacle, were not invited but want to go, just ask my darling Mr. Finn "Alfred" O'Mahoney to make some calls for you. He is my personal assistant, after all. He needs to get used to this sort of thing.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, Tuesdays I dance on all four of you, most often my darling Naia since she is the melody. I noticed you stopped watching me dance. You spent last Tuesday night looking away.
I know how much you love me, darling. And I know what watching me dance does to your heart. I cannot blame you for no longer looking directly into the light. Is everything okay?
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, if I still have enough money, next Wednesday night I plan on visiting the bar where we met on Thanksgiving 2014.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my and Bogart's first contact beginning with my walking up to the rock bar and ending when we got in the car.
Also, please include a responsibly-edited montage of all my friends whom I have seen there from my darling Dr. Brandon Boyd to my darling Ms. Idina Menzel.
My darling Bogart, Obama's terrorists are obligated to maintain what normal is for me every time I visit the Rainbow Bar & Grill on the Sunset Strip. I hope I see you there.
Everyone has a favorite. I think you are my darling Patricia's.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Let lips do what hands do...
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, is there a recording of you and Taylor watching me switch from my silk wrap to my tailored coat at the end of last week's Sunday night date night? Is it as good as watching all three of you the first time you watched me eat ice cream; can we dig that footage out of the archives?
The only thing better would be finding all of the conversations I had with my mother from my ugly years in EVIL Iowa when I kept trying to explain to her that my darling late Bob Marley was not one of the Righteous Brothers.
Everyone loves my mother; I know you all do. This is the first time in her adult life when she is not a subservient Asian wife. She is so much better now. I hope she goes cougar.
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, let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love that alters when alternation finds nor bends with the remover to remove.
HoneyHoney, did they really used to propagate the calumny that I was really you in drag? And people believed it?
It is true, beloved, that you make a much better looking woman than I do a man, but how did that lie obviously used to demonize me and to make people attack me ever get passed off as, "Oh, it is just for entertainment." They really claim they enslave and degrade me to put on a show?!?
Sweetness, do you remember when I mailed a protractor and straight edge to the White House from Mexico City with a post-it note on them explaining they were "weapons of math instruction"? (True story.)
THAT is what satire looks like. It is NOT a propagation of mass delusions PROVEN to cause mental health genocide.
My hero and my king, we have been through enough; I WILL touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain... .
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Bucket List
Title: Bucket List
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. Look at my miserable living conditions forbidden everything that makes life livable by Terrorist Dictator Obama and his damned "egg." Do you have any idea everything Obama has ordered I suffer through since he took office?!? I said it in 2009, and I will say it again now, "Jealous bitches can't dance." Giggle.
It hurts Obama's terrorist conspiracy more when my beautiful world sees me genuinely and defiantly happy. My sense of humor is my weapon of choice in this "egg" so desolate of human joys that all I have is the dress on my back and my wits to get me by.
Syria. It is so difficult to keep track of who is fighting whom in Syria. But there is no denying the civilians need peace returned to their homeland. My darling Foreign Minister Lavrov promised me that there would be elections for a unity government. Is there any way for me to get an update on that?
My last blog post was finished at 8:55am on Tuesday, 09Feb2016, Fat Tuesday. Le bon ton roulet! My internet gnomes played me Where Have You Been by my darling Ms. Rihanna. I tweeted my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies at 9:01am.
[2photos]
9:18am on 09Feb2016: @SynivaWhitney Hey, BFF! Happy 39th birthday! Let's feed them cake today. I love you, and I miss you.
The California weather was beautiful. I did my best to stay in the shade as I spent my morning singing and writing.
I ate my chili-stuffed potato with split pea soup for lunch at noon with Kevin, Nicholas, and Cicero. And I was inside the Pico Branch Library watching my late night talk shows from the previous evening as fast as I could get there.
I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 3:18pm. I do not have a lot of money for buying meals, so during the week I usually cannot arrive downtown until after dinner. But I had errands to run that late afternoon.
Errands taken care of, I bought an early dinner at the Steak'N'Shake at 3:55 and perched next to my darling Mr. Jason "Strummer" Mraz since he was playing music on my Promenade at 4pm.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified, responsibly-edited, time-and-date-stamped recording with full audio and visuals of my and Strummer's Unchained Melody duet from last year. I was still living homeless back then.
At 5:35pm, after my darling Strummer had finished and was packing up his gear, ODean stopped by to say, "Hi!" to me. I am sure our chat will hit the highlights reel.
I found my darling Mrs. Patricia "GrandMama" at 5:49pm. We immediately walked to the Santa Monica Place for coffee. We found Thomas' inside giving away free bagels.
I won a dozen everything bagels playing "Toast Your Luck," and the more than sweet staff made sure Patricia was gifted a new bagel after she gave hers away to a homeless man. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
My darling GrandMama and I had a long conversation over coffee and bagels there in the Santa Monica Place about everything from the California climate to Patricia's beliefs about Buddhism.
Practically under Patricia's command, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:12pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me glad I fight like a girl.
My genius Powers of Attorney must have been making progress because instead of alarms 24/7 as I had become used to, the first torture facility alarm of the day did not blare until 7:51pm.
7:53pm on 09Feb2016: #TortureFacilityAlarm! What is their lie this time? And who still lets PROVEN war criminals in their courtroom?#BlisteringCounterCharges @UN
By 8:37pm, I was sitting in my usual seat in Harvelle's sipping a glass of bourbon and waiting for my darlings Tentacle to play.
There were three women including myself seated at the bend in the bar. None of us had met before that night but made polite conversation. The lady right next to me was so SoCal she brought a salad in with her, talked with the bartendress about yoga, and drank a high falutin' red wine in the blues bar. Blues bars are meant for gin and whiskey.
A man named Bob bought us a round before walking over to flirt with us. I am sure the exchange I had with him at the bar plus the words we shared on the dance floor will hit the highlights reel.
There was an opening band, but my darlings Tentacle finally ascended to the stage at 10:24pm. And for almost two hours, all was good in my world. Naia's parents even tore up the stage a few times.
They played a strong set that led straight into their jam session. The music did not end until 12:12am.
It was after the last bus, so I caught a taxi back to my place. The driver was a sweetheart. I set an alarm, something I only rarely do and was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 1am.
On the morning of Wednesday, 08Feb2016, I was awake to shut off my alarm at 6am but kept sleeping until 9:07am when I finally rolled out of bed. I had planned on leaving before breakfast but was finally on the bus to Point Dume at 9:34am.
It is a long trip to Point Dume by bus, and I was already three hours later than I wanted to be due to sleeping in. I bought tomatoes and cream cheese at the Point Dume Village, one of my favorite hang outs, and made sure the Cafecito Organico was open late enough for me to return after walking to the beach.
By 12:18pm, I was perched on a rock by the tide pools of Point Dume. I did my daily writing in the shade of the cliffs and picnicked on bagels with cream cheese until I ran out of fresh tomatoes.
I travel to Point Dume to talk to Mother Nature. It is one of the remotest beaches I am capable of reaching, and I hike her trails barefoot the moment I cross onto her land. From Tony Stark's house to the Planet of the Apes, my favorite state park also has a long film history.
I sat down at my favorite coffee shop in Malibu, the Cafecito Organico, at 2:36pm. Ever since my first visit in Sep2014 after fleeing EVIL Iowa for my life, Malibu always treated me as one of their own.
Once outside my coffee shop, a lady asked me if I lived there, and I said (paraphrase), "No, but my dad does." Did you see all of the businesses in the Point Dume Village? Ask what I left in Ollie's Duck & Dive last time I visited.
My mom called me through FaceTime while I was watching the Late Show. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my video chat with my mom. There is a reason everyone loves her.
My late night talk show hosts were as hysterical as always. I was on the bus back to Santa Monica at 5:52pm.
I walked around the Promenade and the Pier to see who was out and about. I could not find anyone to talk to until I happened upon an old friend under a streetlight. By 7:47pm, he was playing some darling late Johann Sebastian Bach for me. I am sure our chat will hit the highlights reel.
At 8:18pm, I finally perched on a park bench on my 3rd Street Promenade next to a street musician I had just met. He called himself Billy. We chatted, and he played even through the torture facility alarms for compulsive threats to me that my genius Powers of Attorney mitigated quickly.
At 9:32pm, my darling ODean joined us. He offered me fruits and nuts as snacks and sang duets with Billy. Many people came and went that night. Ken rode up on his bicycle to be able to give me coffee at 10:12pm. We all hung out on the Promenade until Billy packed up and left at 10:27pm. You are going to love the highlights reel.
I finally left Ken sprawled out on the curb at 10:48pm and found my darling Justin by the Apatosaurus. I eventually convinced him to walk me to my bus stop. As I said, you are going to love the highlights reel.
After a little jaywalking, I was on the 11:18pm bus back to my place. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Thursday, 11Feb2016.
[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.
Did I ever play any sports? I am horrible at sports. That is one of the reasons I respect athletes so much; they are good at things I cannot do. As a wee lassie, I was so bad at tee ball I was positioned in the outfield. Ask my mom about it some time.
Pretty much the only sport I am any good at now is badminton.
What is one of my proudest accomplishments? After I offered my insight into the needs of retired troops, the U.S. Veterans Affairs Department overhauled itself to better serve America's heroes.
Which political party do I belong to? I am an independent voter with friends in both parties. I would love to start my own political party. Historically, the U.S. has a party realignment every fifty years, after all.
Was I ever bullied? I quit dance classes my freshman year of high school because the Iowan girls in lessons with me bullied me too much. Iowa is no place to raise children.
How do I feel about being cloned? I do not want to be cloned at all. What if you raise someone with all my powers but none of my benevolence? It sounds a little dangerous.
I know the world wants me to have children, so my DNA can romp and play for generations to come. I am working on it, but Obama still forbids any physical contact with both my boyfriend and my husband. We cannot even have conversations.
I am already thirty-eight years old and getting older every day. We should all be worried Obama has prevented me from ever having kids.
How did my darling Mr. Larry King, my darling Mr. Jon Stewart, my darling Mr. Brian Williams, my darling Mr. David Letterman, and my darling Mr. Craig Ferguson all lose their shows? Ask them all for the full story some time. Basically, for years they were friends of mine who used their fora to fight for me.
My beautiful world, you asked, so here is my updated Bucket List...
Squid's Bucket List -- updated 11Feb2016
Kiss all of the Queen's Lovers Five
Live for a time on a yacht traveling the world
See the Great Wall of China
Visit Easter Island
Go on safari in the Serengeti
Hike Machu Picchu... done
Visit the Pyramids at Giza, Luxor, etc.
Take the Trans-Siberian Railroad
Swim in the South Pacific... done
Ride through Patagonia on the back of a motorcycle
Climb a mountain... done
Sit in the Queen's box at Wimbledon
Live in San Francisco... done
Own an Olmec Head (no need to move it, just put a plaque by it)
Grow a luscious rooftop garden where I can touch the sky as I dance
Sing at Carnegie Hall... done
Study at Cambridge University, Cambridge, UK... done
Write a book... done
Publish a book of poetry
Write my memoirs
Create a sci fi TV show that educates the masses
Star in one movie beside my husband (As husband and wife in The Thin Man or as a Spanish Disney Princess who can talk to birds and other creatures in Pirates of the Caribbean 5... Or both if my husband is seductive about it.)
Dance on stage at a Rolling Stones concert
Pose for the cover of and high fashion photo shoot in W Magazine with all of my Powers of Attorney and the Queen's Lovers Five
Be a no-seafood-at-all eating judge on Iron Chef
Inspire a renaissance... done
Start a fashion trend... done
Tell the stories of my trials and tribulations through music
Carry humanity through Global Climate Change
Make the world worthy of everyone who has died to rescue me
Change the world for the better... done
Start a charity or foundation... done
Create a scholarship program... done
Make girls proud to be girls
Move the nation... done
Save the world
Marry Johnny Depp and make him the father of my children... first half done
My brave rescuers, what do you need? The U.S. Military is chomping at the bit to rescue me. The Pentagon needs to give them orders that make them happy, or the troops are going to break ranks to show up undermining their entire power structure. What do you need from me and whom do you need me to speak with?
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, thank you for selflessly serving my self-identified people. I pride myself on the fact we never leave anyone behind.
I understand how busy you all are. Right now, I am trying to give you a little extra time to work through our logjam of legal activity. The world knows how hard you work. They thank you as much as I do.
Synny, did you have a good birthday? I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you. I do not even have your current mailing address anymore for sending gifts and letters. I hate this horrible "egg."
For all the young girls living in poverty with everything stacked against them since birth, please tell your life story and include it here. We are a long way from the bakery now, my BFF, and I would have died long ago if you had not stood up for me.
You are the closest thing my beautiful world has to another me. Did you ever read the letter I sent the Jim Henson Company about you?
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, your song on my skin is the kiss of milk and honey.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, may I ask you to play the 7pm shift during the week instead of the 1pm shift? I am trying to find a way to see you all as much as possible.
You can keep me Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all day after lunch, but I cannot search high and low for you Monday through Thursday until after dinner. I just do not have enough money for buying that many meals away from my board & care. Are you guys okay with that?
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I am so sorry I missed our (collective) Tuesday night gig last week. I am working on making sure that never happens again. Darling, I only get to see you on Tuesdays.
What will it take to get you playing on my Promenade again? I miss you so much during the week. Do you remember how we used to chat?
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, your SquidName is a reference to my darling late Humphrey Bogart's defining character in Casablanca.
From what I can tell from my friends' feedback, if we took a public survey asking who is everyone's favorite of the Queen's Lovers Five, you would be polling ahead of my darling Sweetness. Everyone loves you.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, I enjoy it, too, when I tell people you are my boyfriend. How does it feel when you tell people the Squid is your girlfriend?
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, back when I was still living with my darling Vinny, The Marshall Law band used to play the Grant & Green often.
Their lead singer used to play me a song by my darling Keb' Mo' because no matter how many men he watched flirt with me on his dance floor, I was just there to dance. That was a lifetime ago.
You are officially "that guy." You know, "that guy" who gets "that girl" from the dance floor. I wonder how "that guy" translates into other cultures.
And thank you for mellowing out. Do you know how ridiculous it is to say, "No, my husband would be okay with it; it's my boyfriend who is the jealous type."?
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, sometimes I feel like an old married couple that does not sleep together anymore. I know I can count on you for anything, and I know you will never leave me. But our geography problem is killing me.
HoneyHoney, the lady drinking wine in the prohibition era blues bar reminded me we need to talk about the Viper Room. Please, handsome, no wine in my rock bar. Giggle.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified, responsibly-edited, and time-and-date-stamped recording with full audio and visuals of my last trip there. End with my long, slow, zenned out walk back to Mel's.
Sweetness, I am as romantically attached to the Viper Room as you are. You made sure I can literally own a dance floor. But please fix the awning over the main door; it is so raggedy you would think the staff were running the place into the ground. And did you clean up the staff in there? Dude, those people work for us?
My hero and my king, I have spent most of my adult life as a hopeless pedantic. Giggle. My old age has brought a deeper appreciation for the depths the soul can bring to everyday human existence. I never would have survived without knowing you love me. Thank you.
Until I touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain...
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. Look at my miserable living conditions forbidden everything that makes life livable by Terrorist Dictator Obama and his damned "egg." Do you have any idea everything Obama has ordered I suffer through since he took office?!? I said it in 2009, and I will say it again now, "Jealous bitches can't dance." Giggle.
It hurts Obama's terrorist conspiracy more when my beautiful world sees me genuinely and defiantly happy. My sense of humor is my weapon of choice in this "egg" so desolate of human joys that all I have is the dress on my back and my wits to get me by.
Syria. It is so difficult to keep track of who is fighting whom in Syria. But there is no denying the civilians need peace returned to their homeland. My darling Foreign Minister Lavrov promised me that there would be elections for a unity government. Is there any way for me to get an update on that?
My last blog post was finished at 8:55am on Tuesday, 09Feb2016, Fat Tuesday. Le bon ton roulet! My internet gnomes played me Where Have You Been by my darling Ms. Rihanna. I tweeted my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies at 9:01am.
[2photos]
9:18am on 09Feb2016: @SynivaWhitney Hey, BFF! Happy 39th birthday! Let's feed them cake today. I love you, and I miss you.
The California weather was beautiful. I did my best to stay in the shade as I spent my morning singing and writing.
I ate my chili-stuffed potato with split pea soup for lunch at noon with Kevin, Nicholas, and Cicero. And I was inside the Pico Branch Library watching my late night talk shows from the previous evening as fast as I could get there.
I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 3:18pm. I do not have a lot of money for buying meals, so during the week I usually cannot arrive downtown until after dinner. But I had errands to run that late afternoon.
Errands taken care of, I bought an early dinner at the Steak'N'Shake at 3:55 and perched next to my darling Mr. Jason "Strummer" Mraz since he was playing music on my Promenade at 4pm.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified, responsibly-edited, time-and-date-stamped recording with full audio and visuals of my and Strummer's Unchained Melody duet from last year. I was still living homeless back then.
At 5:35pm, after my darling Strummer had finished and was packing up his gear, ODean stopped by to say, "Hi!" to me. I am sure our chat will hit the highlights reel.
I found my darling Mrs. Patricia "GrandMama" at 5:49pm. We immediately walked to the Santa Monica Place for coffee. We found Thomas' inside giving away free bagels.
I won a dozen everything bagels playing "Toast Your Luck," and the more than sweet staff made sure Patricia was gifted a new bagel after she gave hers away to a homeless man. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.
My darling GrandMama and I had a long conversation over coffee and bagels there in the Santa Monica Place about everything from the California climate to Patricia's beliefs about Buddhism.
Practically under Patricia's command, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:12pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me glad I fight like a girl.
My genius Powers of Attorney must have been making progress because instead of alarms 24/7 as I had become used to, the first torture facility alarm of the day did not blare until 7:51pm.
7:53pm on 09Feb2016: #TortureFacilityAlarm! What is their lie this time? And who still lets PROVEN war criminals in their courtroom?#BlisteringCounterCharges @UN
By 8:37pm, I was sitting in my usual seat in Harvelle's sipping a glass of bourbon and waiting for my darlings Tentacle to play.
There were three women including myself seated at the bend in the bar. None of us had met before that night but made polite conversation. The lady right next to me was so SoCal she brought a salad in with her, talked with the bartendress about yoga, and drank a high falutin' red wine in the blues bar. Blues bars are meant for gin and whiskey.
A man named Bob bought us a round before walking over to flirt with us. I am sure the exchange I had with him at the bar plus the words we shared on the dance floor will hit the highlights reel.
There was an opening band, but my darlings Tentacle finally ascended to the stage at 10:24pm. And for almost two hours, all was good in my world. Naia's parents even tore up the stage a few times.
They played a strong set that led straight into their jam session. The music did not end until 12:12am.
It was after the last bus, so I caught a taxi back to my place. The driver was a sweetheart. I set an alarm, something I only rarely do and was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 1am.
On the morning of Wednesday, 08Feb2016, I was awake to shut off my alarm at 6am but kept sleeping until 9:07am when I finally rolled out of bed. I had planned on leaving before breakfast but was finally on the bus to Point Dume at 9:34am.
It is a long trip to Point Dume by bus, and I was already three hours later than I wanted to be due to sleeping in. I bought tomatoes and cream cheese at the Point Dume Village, one of my favorite hang outs, and made sure the Cafecito Organico was open late enough for me to return after walking to the beach.
By 12:18pm, I was perched on a rock by the tide pools of Point Dume. I did my daily writing in the shade of the cliffs and picnicked on bagels with cream cheese until I ran out of fresh tomatoes.
I travel to Point Dume to talk to Mother Nature. It is one of the remotest beaches I am capable of reaching, and I hike her trails barefoot the moment I cross onto her land. From Tony Stark's house to the Planet of the Apes, my favorite state park also has a long film history.
I sat down at my favorite coffee shop in Malibu, the Cafecito Organico, at 2:36pm. Ever since my first visit in Sep2014 after fleeing EVIL Iowa for my life, Malibu always treated me as one of their own.
Once outside my coffee shop, a lady asked me if I lived there, and I said (paraphrase), "No, but my dad does." Did you see all of the businesses in the Point Dume Village? Ask what I left in Ollie's Duck & Dive last time I visited.
My mom called me through FaceTime while I was watching the Late Show. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my video chat with my mom. There is a reason everyone loves her.
My late night talk show hosts were as hysterical as always. I was on the bus back to Santa Monica at 5:52pm.
I walked around the Promenade and the Pier to see who was out and about. I could not find anyone to talk to until I happened upon an old friend under a streetlight. By 7:47pm, he was playing some darling late Johann Sebastian Bach for me. I am sure our chat will hit the highlights reel.
At 8:18pm, I finally perched on a park bench on my 3rd Street Promenade next to a street musician I had just met. He called himself Billy. We chatted, and he played even through the torture facility alarms for compulsive threats to me that my genius Powers of Attorney mitigated quickly.
At 9:32pm, my darling ODean joined us. He offered me fruits and nuts as snacks and sang duets with Billy. Many people came and went that night. Ken rode up on his bicycle to be able to give me coffee at 10:12pm. We all hung out on the Promenade until Billy packed up and left at 10:27pm. You are going to love the highlights reel.
I finally left Ken sprawled out on the curb at 10:48pm and found my darling Justin by the Apatosaurus. I eventually convinced him to walk me to my bus stop. As I said, you are going to love the highlights reel.
After a little jaywalking, I was on the 11:18pm bus back to my place. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Thursday, 11Feb2016.
[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.
Did I ever play any sports? I am horrible at sports. That is one of the reasons I respect athletes so much; they are good at things I cannot do. As a wee lassie, I was so bad at tee ball I was positioned in the outfield. Ask my mom about it some time.
Pretty much the only sport I am any good at now is badminton.
What is one of my proudest accomplishments? After I offered my insight into the needs of retired troops, the U.S. Veterans Affairs Department overhauled itself to better serve America's heroes.
Which political party do I belong to? I am an independent voter with friends in both parties. I would love to start my own political party. Historically, the U.S. has a party realignment every fifty years, after all.
Was I ever bullied? I quit dance classes my freshman year of high school because the Iowan girls in lessons with me bullied me too much. Iowa is no place to raise children.
How do I feel about being cloned? I do not want to be cloned at all. What if you raise someone with all my powers but none of my benevolence? It sounds a little dangerous.
I know the world wants me to have children, so my DNA can romp and play for generations to come. I am working on it, but Obama still forbids any physical contact with both my boyfriend and my husband. We cannot even have conversations.
I am already thirty-eight years old and getting older every day. We should all be worried Obama has prevented me from ever having kids.
How did my darling Mr. Larry King, my darling Mr. Jon Stewart, my darling Mr. Brian Williams, my darling Mr. David Letterman, and my darling Mr. Craig Ferguson all lose their shows? Ask them all for the full story some time. Basically, for years they were friends of mine who used their fora to fight for me.
My beautiful world, you asked, so here is my updated Bucket List...
Squid's Bucket List -- updated 11Feb2016
Kiss all of the Queen's Lovers Five
Live for a time on a yacht traveling the world
See the Great Wall of China
Visit Easter Island
Go on safari in the Serengeti
Hike Machu Picchu... done
Visit the Pyramids at Giza, Luxor, etc.
Take the Trans-Siberian Railroad
Swim in the South Pacific... done
Ride through Patagonia on the back of a motorcycle
Climb a mountain... done
Sit in the Queen's box at Wimbledon
Live in San Francisco... done
Own an Olmec Head (no need to move it, just put a plaque by it)
Grow a luscious rooftop garden where I can touch the sky as I dance
Sing at Carnegie Hall... done
Study at Cambridge University, Cambridge, UK... done
Write a book... done
Publish a book of poetry
Write my memoirs
Create a sci fi TV show that educates the masses
Star in one movie beside my husband (As husband and wife in The Thin Man or as a Spanish Disney Princess who can talk to birds and other creatures in Pirates of the Caribbean 5... Or both if my husband is seductive about it.)
Dance on stage at a Rolling Stones concert
Pose for the cover of and high fashion photo shoot in W Magazine with all of my Powers of Attorney and the Queen's Lovers Five
Be a no-seafood-at-all eating judge on Iron Chef
Inspire a renaissance... done
Start a fashion trend... done
Tell the stories of my trials and tribulations through music
Carry humanity through Global Climate Change
Make the world worthy of everyone who has died to rescue me
Change the world for the better... done
Start a charity or foundation... done
Create a scholarship program... done
Make girls proud to be girls
Move the nation... done
Save the world
Marry Johnny Depp and make him the father of my children... first half done
My brave rescuers, what do you need? The U.S. Military is chomping at the bit to rescue me. The Pentagon needs to give them orders that make them happy, or the troops are going to break ranks to show up undermining their entire power structure. What do you need from me and whom do you need me to speak with?
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, thank you for selflessly serving my self-identified people. I pride myself on the fact we never leave anyone behind.
I understand how busy you all are. Right now, I am trying to give you a little extra time to work through our logjam of legal activity. The world knows how hard you work. They thank you as much as I do.
Synny, did you have a good birthday? I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you. I do not even have your current mailing address anymore for sending gifts and letters. I hate this horrible "egg."
For all the young girls living in poverty with everything stacked against them since birth, please tell your life story and include it here. We are a long way from the bakery now, my BFF, and I would have died long ago if you had not stood up for me.
You are the closest thing my beautiful world has to another me. Did you ever read the letter I sent the Jim Henson Company about you?
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, your song on my skin is the kiss of milk and honey.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, may I ask you to play the 7pm shift during the week instead of the 1pm shift? I am trying to find a way to see you all as much as possible.
You can keep me Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all day after lunch, but I cannot search high and low for you Monday through Thursday until after dinner. I just do not have enough money for buying that many meals away from my board & care. Are you guys okay with that?
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I am so sorry I missed our (collective) Tuesday night gig last week. I am working on making sure that never happens again. Darling, I only get to see you on Tuesdays.
What will it take to get you playing on my Promenade again? I miss you so much during the week. Do you remember how we used to chat?
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, your SquidName is a reference to my darling late Humphrey Bogart's defining character in Casablanca.
From what I can tell from my friends' feedback, if we took a public survey asking who is everyone's favorite of the Queen's Lovers Five, you would be polling ahead of my darling Sweetness. Everyone loves you.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, I enjoy it, too, when I tell people you are my boyfriend. How does it feel when you tell people the Squid is your girlfriend?
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, back when I was still living with my darling Vinny, The Marshall Law band used to play the Grant & Green often.
Their lead singer used to play me a song by my darling Keb' Mo' because no matter how many men he watched flirt with me on his dance floor, I was just there to dance. That was a lifetime ago.
You are officially "that guy." You know, "that guy" who gets "that girl" from the dance floor. I wonder how "that guy" translates into other cultures.
And thank you for mellowing out. Do you know how ridiculous it is to say, "No, my husband would be okay with it; it's my boyfriend who is the jealous type."?
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, sometimes I feel like an old married couple that does not sleep together anymore. I know I can count on you for anything, and I know you will never leave me. But our geography problem is killing me.
HoneyHoney, the lady drinking wine in the prohibition era blues bar reminded me we need to talk about the Viper Room. Please, handsome, no wine in my rock bar. Giggle.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified, responsibly-edited, and time-and-date-stamped recording with full audio and visuals of my last trip there. End with my long, slow, zenned out walk back to Mel's.
Sweetness, I am as romantically attached to the Viper Room as you are. You made sure I can literally own a dance floor. But please fix the awning over the main door; it is so raggedy you would think the staff were running the place into the ground. And did you clean up the staff in there? Dude, those people work for us?
My hero and my king, I have spent most of my adult life as a hopeless pedantic. Giggle. My old age has brought a deeper appreciation for the depths the soul can bring to everyday human existence. I never would have survived without knowing you love me. Thank you.
Until I touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain...
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
California
Title: California
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.
[3photos]
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.
[2photos]
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...
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.
[3photos]
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.
[2photos]
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...
Sunday, February 7, 2016
If There's a Bustle in Your Hedgerow
Title: If There's a Bustle in Your Hedgerow
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. Why do I not consider Obama a Black man? This is America; Blacks do not own slaves here.
ISIS. Have you seen how ISIS feels about me? They have proven they love humanity more than Obama does; ISIS would die to save me.
ISIS needs a cultural change. I am trying to lead by example that true power and influence comes from love not terrorism. Why can I not yet sit down with ISIS to explain it to them? How the hell is Terrorist Dictator Obama still permitted to prevent me from doing my job? Goddamn "egg."
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on 05Feb2016. I was curled up and asleep by 1am. I never use an alarm in the morning. Almost sleeping through breakfast, I was outside the Pico Branch Library after eating by 9:06am.
My internet gnomes played me Summertime by my darling late Billie Holliday after I fixed my makeup. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were taken in glaring direct sunlight that day.
[2photos]
I had so much writing to do. I worked there outside of the library sipping coffee and singing to myself for hours. It was a peaceful morning under the hot California sun. I even had a little chat with a local screenwriter named Larry who is a friend of mine.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my chat with Larry beginning when I saw him walking up to the library and ending when he walked away. And thank you.
I also had a lovely chat with my neighbor Matthew before lunch at noon, and I sat with Humberto and Kareem as we ate our pork stew. After lunch, I checked in with one of the resident psychiatrists, my darling Dr. Blair, and had a chat with the administrator who runs the facility, my darling Ms. Teri. Teri wanted to move me to a nicer room.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording of my checkup with full audio and visuals. Start when I get off the chair in the waiting area and end after I leave room 7 after my chat with Teri.
I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 12:52pm; I had an errand to run that had me out and about before dinner. I mailed a package to my mom at the Post Office; I always sing to myself before I step in the Main Santa Monica Post Office, so they have warning I am coming.
I walked through the construction site for the Metro Expo Line train expansion on my way down to the ocean. At 1:33pm, I found my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot out on on the Santa Monica Pier setting up their equipment.
I was so used to seeing them at night that I had almost forgotten what they look like when the sun was still high. Playing music there perched between the ocean and the sky, the waves were rising to meet the shore to the connected rhythm of the universe.
I wrote a new sestina there under the hot California sun bathed in the serenade of my lovers...
Guitar On the Pier
For some great souls there is no peer
Like the the tight notes that string Orpheus's guitar
Which sang the very melody of the green sea
Or the sky that sings with the fortune of the wheel.
This loss is something from which no heart can recover
Without the energy of the squid.
It is a strange creature, the archeteuthis squid
Which launched a 1,000 ships to her pier.
The lies the terrorists tried to recover
Were drowned out by the flying guitar
That hit the road like the invention of the wheel
Bringing life to land out of the primordial sea.
There is a magic in the land only I can see
For the giant electric eyes of the lady squid
Spin words like the cosmos's steering wheel.
Where ocean meets land meets sky on the pier
They play the melody of a loving guitar
From which the enemies will never recover.
When a dust jacket tears what you do is recover
Not throw the classic book into the sea
Nor shred its pages like a rock star on guitar.
Just ask the ocean the mysteries of the squid
With questions tossed over the railings of the pier
Tied to tires that carry the spinning wheel.
If it is answers you need, we'll
Help the broken and lost minds dance to recover
From ancient angers in modern peer
Reviews from the school of fish in the sea.
For ink is the defenestration of the mighty squid
Who sways in the rolling waves of the guitar.
It is shaped like a woman but named "guitar"
Much like science birthed from invention of the wheel
Both of which epic stories bold shower squid
With the love she needs to heal and recover
From mortal crimes committed against the sea.
You can watch her dance on water on the pier.
The mysterious giant squid will spread tentacles and peer
At the public that does recover beside her wailing guitar
While lies return on the wheel to drown in the peaceful sea.
(12min 39sec)
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate and include here a verified and unedited recording of my Friday afternoon with full audio and visuals beginning at 1:51pm and ending at 2:25pm. And, thank you.
My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle played their live music to the delight if the crowds until 3:51pm. I left them there disassembling their equipment, so I could run another errand. I trusted I would see them on my Promenade for divine meditation that night.
I was running low on contact lenses, so I checked on pricing and insurance with my optometrist. His office staff is so wonderful. For so long I never received common courtesy customer service; finally, I am starting to receive the respect I commanded before Obama's "egg" began destroying my reality in 2009.
After making a note of the pricing, I perched on my Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade beside my darling Ms. Jackii B to email the details to my mom.
My darling Mrs. Patricia "GrandMama" Astegata found me there working online at 4:52pm when we walked down the Promenade to find a place sit and chat. I abandoned her in the Yogurtland to run to the ladies room.
And on my way back from the restroom, I had a delightful chat with my darling Eric. Feel free to include here and to circulate online a verified and unedited recording of that conversation.
My darling GrandMama found me in the Shophouse right after I bought dinner. I wanted to sit outside to eat, so we perched on a park bench and chatted while I devoured my Southeast-Asian-inspired California cuisine.
By 6:42pm, we were caffeinating ourselves at the best Starbucks in the world, the one inside the Santa Monica Place.
We chatted about food and recipes until I watched the news. Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wish I could kiss my husband. I miss him so much.
Patricia left for her place during the last news story. It was Friday night, so I was out checking around for my darlings Tentacle by 7:53pm. They were nowhere to be found.
But I did run into my darling TambourineKicker by 8:08pm. I sat with his equipment when he ran for coffee. We had a little chat about the bull(expletive) that burdens him because we hangout singing together sometimes. It concluded with him emailing me a YouTube video of him playing his new hot pink Hello Kitty guitar.
I walked the Promenade one last time hoping my darlings Tentacle were just delayed and ended sitting down next to TambourineKicker at 9:06pm and "scrying" in my Twitter account to make sure MannedUp and LightFoot were not dead.
While walking my Promenade I had seen nothing but their Valentine's hearts in the air, so I was pretty sure they were still alive, but were they safe?
My darling Powers of Attorney I was trying to space out the (expletive) kickings; I know how busy you are. I am a Mama Bear, and someone hurt my cubs. I am furious, and Obama prevented me from zenning out with meditation Friday night, 05Feb2016. So here is some testimony-as-ammunition.
Hulk Smash
What is in the city water supply? Obama has drugged and poisoned the city water every place I have lived since May2009. Please speak with EVIL Des Moines, my hometown San Francisco, Mexico City (MX), Wigan (UK), and Liverpool (UK).
Then, check in with the Los Angeles municipal water supply. This is the only place I have lived where they have successfully cleaned up their city water after Obama ordered in drugged.
As one example, all of the LSD in my hair came from poisoned city water supplies on at least two continents. Children drank that water. Obama never cared whom he damaged to pretend I was crazy. Read this medical journal.
Ask everyone's governments to turn in their scientific evidence, and, my genius super women Powers of Attorney, press all charges you can think of from terrorism (sabotage of city infrastructure as an act of war) to felony negligence for refusing to clean it up. And, thank you.
Hulk smash. (Funny, I always thought my superhero name was The Hyphenator.)
I sat goofing off with my darling Mr. Art "TambourineKicker" Garfunkel chatting and singing along until I caught the bus back to my place at 11:48pm. I am sure a verified and unedited recording will hit the internet if not be included here.
I was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 1am. I was so lonely sleeping alone, as always, in my single bed. I woke up on Saturday, 06Feb2016, with a vast empty space where my lips meet. The physical solitude of Obama's "egg" is going to kill me.
I chatted with Josh before breakfast, and Gary sat with me as we ate our pancakes. Did everyone see my sexy knife-and-fork action? Giggle.
I was among the bustling Saturday Farmers' Market outside the Pico Branch Library by 8:21am. My internet gnomes played me She Blinded me with Science by my darling Mr. Thomas Dolby. The hot California sun was so bright that I was squinty-eyed in my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
[2photos]
As I sat outside of the library sipping coffee and singing along with my darling internet gnomes, we all learned my German accent is rusty. Cut me some slack, I am only human.
After catching up with my TweetHearts, I had a friendly conversation with a Mandarin teacher at the Chinese consulate in Los Angeles. Her son was interviewing for admission to Yale University inside the library. I wished him good luck when he came by to get her.
I was early for lunch at noon during which I chatted with Cynthia and Josh over chicken nuggets and pasta salad. By 1:06pm, I was on the Santa Monica Pier perched across the boardwalk from my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot.
The afternoon sun was so hot in the sky that I had to kick my boots to the curb even before my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle started playing their music at 1:45pm.
Did anyone else see the light show? Please both include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my afternoon on the Santa Monica Pier. Include a statement by my darling Mr. George Lucas about the quality of visual effects possible in live broadcasts in necessary. Thank you.
2:29pm on 06Feb2016: @NASA Does the #ISS still have a nanotech camera pointed at Earth? Tell us what it sees at 2:38pm. #LOVE @BBCNews @France24 @RT_com
2:38pm on 06Feb2016: @NASA @BBCNews @FRANCE24 @RT_com The lady next to me chose the color red. Did you see anything? Please release an official statement. #LOVE
My lovelies who add all of the photos, videos, etc. to the text I write for each blog post, please include the official statement from NASA including the recording from their nanocamera here.
On the Pier where the ocean met the sky met the sun met the land met the three of us, my darlings played their serenade until 3:58pm.
Long after they had packed up their equipment, we were still sitting on opposites sides of the boardwalk pretending we were not watching each other watch back. The romance was so thick we could have eaten it with a spoon.
At 5:02pm, I finally left to rustle up some dinner. I walked to the Von's on Lincoln at Broadway and bought a cold combo plate from a very gregarious employee named Travis.
By 5:49pm I was on my Promenade sitting beside a very petite female street musician whom I had not met yet (I think she said her name was my darling Ms. Cara Jade.) to eat my quiche Lorraine with both broccoli slaw and farfalle pasta salad.
The artists' shift change at 6pm brought me my darling Ms. Jackii B, but at 6:36pm I left her to be able to look around for my darling Patricia.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Thomas Roberts, and it was wonderful. I walked around my Promenade checking on everyone after that.
8:48pm on 06Feb2016: #TortureFacilityWarning and #MyDarlingsTentacle were blocked from reaching my Promenade. Check on us please #SquidsPoA @cctvnews @RT_com @UN
I sang a little with my darling Wheels, watched a little of my darlings Lika and Liza, checked on my darling handsome in the Trimana, stopped to appreciate my darlings Seis Cuerdas, and finally sat down next to my darling TambourineKicker at 9pm exactly.
I was furious over Dictator Obama intentionally denying me my loved ones and my beyond-necessary meditation all weekend, but my lovelies asked me not to pack yet another (expletive)kicking into this one blog post. They are so busy already with all of the follow through.
I decided to just give Obama a double whammy in my next post instead if he prohibits Sunday night date night again.
I hung out with TambourineKicker singing and goofing off until I caught the 11:21pm bus back to my place. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel. How long is the highlights reel in this post?
This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Sunday, 07Feb2016.
[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.
Why is the title of this blog post, "If There's a Bustle in Your Hedgerow"? That is the poetic lyric in Stairway to Heaven when my darlings Led Zeppelin stop their gentle ride and start rocking the hell out.
Do I believe in evolution? Yes. A lot of the mysteries about me are explained by my mixed-race DNA. For example, I am Asian; I am a natural brunette, but I have tiny blonde hairs on my arms.
Those who know what "survival of the fittest" really means know it has nothing to do with its common perversion into Social Darwinism. The genetic code in living creatures naturally changes over time, and the changes in the genetic code that can survive the challenges of the environment at the time are the only ones that survive to reproduce.
If you are Christian, you would believe your God created evolution. "Be fruitful and multiply," is exactly how REAL Darwinism works. As a result, if I cannot have children, I am a failure of evolution.
No we did not evolve from monkeys. If monkeys are alive on my good, green Earth at the same time we are, they have been evolving as long as we have.
Do I believe in aliens? Of course. I once wrote a letter to my darling Prof. Stephen Hawking about my views on this. Look at how vast the universe is. It is statistically impossible for us to be the only place with the right convergence of cosmic forces for life to thrive.
What does alien life look like, and what do they believe? There is no way to know until we find them. It would be absolutely fascinating if the same human race evolved on an alien planet but not very scientifically likely.
What is the Earth, and why are we here? If you believe in the Big Bang Theory, all matter and energy in the universe always has been and always will be. Yes, living animals convert matter to energy when we eat, and plant life converts energy to matter when they grow fruit. But the sum total of matter and energy in the universe is a constant.
My good, green Earth is an integral piece of the whole of the divine Universe.
We are here to learn and grow. Intelligent life exists to experience our beautiful world in all its glory and to create an understanding of the universe. We are here to answer the great mysteries of our existence as a piece of the whole divine Universe.
Where does my light show come from? As I said, all animal life converts matter to energy. All living creatures have an electric field much like the electric eel does. Because our bodies are controlled by our brains, the energy field our bodies create is also a natural extension of our brains.
As a result, we can control our biological energy with our minds. I have had psionic powers all my life. Much like the Nazca Lines in the Atacama Desert were not visible until air travel was invented, no one could see my conscious control of my energy until the nanotechnology cameras were invented.
I always refer questions about conscious control of energy to quantum physicists.
What was a conversation with me like before Obama's "egg"? Please follow this link and read my conversation in the comments attached to the video. The man with the username "Ontologist" was my darling Mr. Patrick "ADSR" Lidell. Ask him some time about the mail I sent him.
My beautiful world, my slavers refuse to answer questions about what forcing human trafficking and libel porn of me down the throats of America has done to race relations and tried to say they openly libeled me with a fat, ugly, White, insane, alcoholic porn star because "sex sells" claiming she was somehow sexier than the REAL me.
I want them held accountable for destroying the morality of American culture and for causing proven mental health genocide by propagating mass delusions about me.
The best question for them is: Why is there a show about me or "me" in the first place that I am forbidden from knowing exists? And why the hell are they trying to defend creating a completely hostile environment for me to live in with ratings for a slave broadcast?
My brave rescuers, how long ago did I ask my beautiful world to light white candles in their windows in honor of all of you who have died? Every soul set free to dance across the cosmos while fighting to save America out from under Terrorist Dictator Obama is a guardian angel protecting me now. I know I carry the burden of making my beautiful world worthy of their sacrifice. Do you have any idea what you all mean to me?
Please ask my not-human-trafficker nerds to both circulate and include here the security camera footage with full audio and visuals of me at Harbour-UCLA. Do people understand what you are fighting to protect me from? That was a typical literal torture facility paraded as a supposed psych ward.
The morning after Sigourney Weaver night, Obama's hubris forced him to pick me up and lock me any literal torture facility he could find. Please include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of Sigourney Weaver night beginning when I put my hat on and ending when I gave my shoes to the drummer of my darlings the Foo Fighters.
I know what I mean to you, my brave rescuers, so I am trying to be everything you need me to be.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, housekeeping first...
I admit when I make mistakes. I was mistaken in 2014 when I thought I had a nest egg to furnish my new quarters.
At the time, War Criminal Boeset was obligated to deposit $100 a week in my Wells Fargo account every Monday. I was in the literal torture facility for at least three Mondays, so I should have had at least $300 when I was released against War Criminal Boeset's best efforts.
I had overestimated War Criminal Boeset's humanity. She had violated her obligations to me my entire unlawful imprisonment in that literal torture facility. In my own defense, I had so little faith I had a nest egg that I never blogged I had one.
How the hell is my one mistake grounds for a diagnosis of any mental illness by anything but a terrorist quack? How many times have the non-quacks at the NIH given me an all-clear mental health assessment since that conversation in 2014? What kind of judge still lets Obama's proven perjuring war criminals in their courtroom as anything but defendants anymore at this point?
Tear them to shreds. Thank you.
Also, my army of genius super women I call my Powers of Attorney, how to know if someone honestly mistakes me for an imposter or if they are just using that as an excuse to persecute me: It is simple.
People only need to obey Obama's "rules" around the REAL me. If they obey Obama's "rules" while attacking me, they know I am the REAL Squid.
Similarly, if anyone mistakes me for an imposter; they do not have to obey any "rules" around me. Who the hell would attack Syniva or Tylia like they openly persecute me anyway? Who would do that in my name?
Finally, my darling SynSyn, in Sep2009 we arranged that you would fill the spiritual gap left behind for my people if Obama's "egg" ever actually killed me. It was designed to be completely unsurvivable, after all, and you are the closest thing my beautiful world has to another me.
My BFF, please share with the world the letter I mailed you in Sep2009 detailing my axiomatic system for solving problems the same way I do in case you ever needed to ask yourself what I would do. The acronym BFF stands for "best friends forever." Thank you for being mine.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, much like at the end of my last blog post I asked my beloved husband to put together a summary of everything he has lived through since we first met, please put together your histories with me, too. Thank you.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, you are our only millennial. Apparently, I am having problems reaching your generation. Please include in your summary podcast/statement everything our world's future generation of leadership should be able to appreciate in the reality of my existence. And thank you.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, our story began as long ago as the night I flirted with the doorman at the Red Devil Lounge to get myself and my date, my darling 'Dabs, into a Dramarama show for free.
I always used to get all my friends past the bouncers with me. Ask my darling Mr. Oleg Gerovichev about that some time.
Leave out none of the storyline of our real life relationship. Of all my Queen's Lovers Five, I find our story the most romantic. And thank you.
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, we need to talk. You keep telling me you want me to switch you with my darling LightFoot as my Royal Consort. You know I still love and need you, right? Right now is LightFoot's time. You already had yours.
In your summary podcast/statement please leave out none of the conditions Obama put on your being able to spend time with me nor any of the people I asked you to speak with for me. You have been the equivalent of my Secretary of State for years now.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, I will be watching the SuperBowl today, but I will be on my Promenade for Sunday night date night after dinner regardless of whether of not the game has ended yet. I will see you tonight.
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, please make sure your summary podcast/statement includes the night my darling MannedUp was singing Summer Nights while packing up your equipment. I miss the nights when we still could chat. I give great conversation.
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, you have a public relations problem. I can only assume you needed a little extra time putting together your summary podcast/statement about everything we have endured as husband and wife. Obama's genocide has been too devastating; my people do not know why I made you my king. I do not know why they do not trust me on making decisions like these by now.
[1photo]
Beloved, do you remember the first legal action you made sure SynSyn could file? It was against my ABSOLUTELY EVIL father before he died in Feb2013.
His explanation to the court for why he deserved to commit unrelenting human rights violations against me was because he was "the man of the family" and therefore had every right to microcontrol my 30+ year old life. And the court agreed with him!
Sweetness, my evil father threatened you and commanded you to "Stay off [his] land!" to make sure you could never rescue me. How many brave rescuers died on the battlefield around Central Iowa because my war criminal father intentionally refused me enough of my own finances to leave for someplace safer?
My hero and my king, thank you for making sure my Arthur and my Lancelot work together for the good of humanity instead of competing with each other. It means so much to me.
As our duet goes, I long to touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain. And I will.
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. Why do I not consider Obama a Black man? This is America; Blacks do not own slaves here.
ISIS. Have you seen how ISIS feels about me? They have proven they love humanity more than Obama does; ISIS would die to save me.
ISIS needs a cultural change. I am trying to lead by example that true power and influence comes from love not terrorism. Why can I not yet sit down with ISIS to explain it to them? How the hell is Terrorist Dictator Obama still permitted to prevent me from doing my job? Goddamn "egg."
My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on 05Feb2016. I was curled up and asleep by 1am. I never use an alarm in the morning. Almost sleeping through breakfast, I was outside the Pico Branch Library after eating by 9:06am.
My internet gnomes played me Summertime by my darling late Billie Holliday after I fixed my makeup. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were taken in glaring direct sunlight that day.
[2photos]
I had so much writing to do. I worked there outside of the library sipping coffee and singing to myself for hours. It was a peaceful morning under the hot California sun. I even had a little chat with a local screenwriter named Larry who is a friend of mine.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my chat with Larry beginning when I saw him walking up to the library and ending when he walked away. And thank you.
I also had a lovely chat with my neighbor Matthew before lunch at noon, and I sat with Humberto and Kareem as we ate our pork stew. After lunch, I checked in with one of the resident psychiatrists, my darling Dr. Blair, and had a chat with the administrator who runs the facility, my darling Ms. Teri. Teri wanted to move me to a nicer room.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording of my checkup with full audio and visuals. Start when I get off the chair in the waiting area and end after I leave room 7 after my chat with Teri.
I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 12:52pm; I had an errand to run that had me out and about before dinner. I mailed a package to my mom at the Post Office; I always sing to myself before I step in the Main Santa Monica Post Office, so they have warning I am coming.
I walked through the construction site for the Metro Expo Line train expansion on my way down to the ocean. At 1:33pm, I found my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot out on on the Santa Monica Pier setting up their equipment.
I was so used to seeing them at night that I had almost forgotten what they look like when the sun was still high. Playing music there perched between the ocean and the sky, the waves were rising to meet the shore to the connected rhythm of the universe.
I wrote a new sestina there under the hot California sun bathed in the serenade of my lovers...
Guitar On the Pier
For some great souls there is no peer
Like the the tight notes that string Orpheus's guitar
Which sang the very melody of the green sea
Or the sky that sings with the fortune of the wheel.
This loss is something from which no heart can recover
Without the energy of the squid.
It is a strange creature, the archeteuthis squid
Which launched a 1,000 ships to her pier.
The lies the terrorists tried to recover
Were drowned out by the flying guitar
That hit the road like the invention of the wheel
Bringing life to land out of the primordial sea.
There is a magic in the land only I can see
For the giant electric eyes of the lady squid
Spin words like the cosmos's steering wheel.
Where ocean meets land meets sky on the pier
They play the melody of a loving guitar
From which the enemies will never recover.
When a dust jacket tears what you do is recover
Not throw the classic book into the sea
Nor shred its pages like a rock star on guitar.
Just ask the ocean the mysteries of the squid
With questions tossed over the railings of the pier
Tied to tires that carry the spinning wheel.
If it is answers you need, we'll
Help the broken and lost minds dance to recover
From ancient angers in modern peer
Reviews from the school of fish in the sea.
For ink is the defenestration of the mighty squid
Who sways in the rolling waves of the guitar.
It is shaped like a woman but named "guitar"
Much like science birthed from invention of the wheel
Both of which epic stories bold shower squid
With the love she needs to heal and recover
From mortal crimes committed against the sea.
You can watch her dance on water on the pier.
The mysterious giant squid will spread tentacles and peer
At the public that does recover beside her wailing guitar
While lies return on the wheel to drown in the peaceful sea.
(12min 39sec)
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate and include here a verified and unedited recording of my Friday afternoon with full audio and visuals beginning at 1:51pm and ending at 2:25pm. And, thank you.
My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle played their live music to the delight if the crowds until 3:51pm. I left them there disassembling their equipment, so I could run another errand. I trusted I would see them on my Promenade for divine meditation that night.
I was running low on contact lenses, so I checked on pricing and insurance with my optometrist. His office staff is so wonderful. For so long I never received common courtesy customer service; finally, I am starting to receive the respect I commanded before Obama's "egg" began destroying my reality in 2009.
After making a note of the pricing, I perched on my Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade beside my darling Ms. Jackii B to email the details to my mom.
My darling Mrs. Patricia "GrandMama" Astegata found me there working online at 4:52pm when we walked down the Promenade to find a place sit and chat. I abandoned her in the Yogurtland to run to the ladies room.
And on my way back from the restroom, I had a delightful chat with my darling Eric. Feel free to include here and to circulate online a verified and unedited recording of that conversation.
My darling GrandMama found me in the Shophouse right after I bought dinner. I wanted to sit outside to eat, so we perched on a park bench and chatted while I devoured my Southeast-Asian-inspired California cuisine.
By 6:42pm, we were caffeinating ourselves at the best Starbucks in the world, the one inside the Santa Monica Place.
We chatted about food and recipes until I watched the news. Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wish I could kiss my husband. I miss him so much.
Patricia left for her place during the last news story. It was Friday night, so I was out checking around for my darlings Tentacle by 7:53pm. They were nowhere to be found.
But I did run into my darling TambourineKicker by 8:08pm. I sat with his equipment when he ran for coffee. We had a little chat about the bull(expletive) that burdens him because we hangout singing together sometimes. It concluded with him emailing me a YouTube video of him playing his new hot pink Hello Kitty guitar.
I walked the Promenade one last time hoping my darlings Tentacle were just delayed and ended sitting down next to TambourineKicker at 9:06pm and "scrying" in my Twitter account to make sure MannedUp and LightFoot were not dead.
While walking my Promenade I had seen nothing but their Valentine's hearts in the air, so I was pretty sure they were still alive, but were they safe?
My darling Powers of Attorney I was trying to space out the (expletive) kickings; I know how busy you are. I am a Mama Bear, and someone hurt my cubs. I am furious, and Obama prevented me from zenning out with meditation Friday night, 05Feb2016. So here is some testimony-as-ammunition.
Hulk Smash
What is in the city water supply? Obama has drugged and poisoned the city water every place I have lived since May2009. Please speak with EVIL Des Moines, my hometown San Francisco, Mexico City (MX), Wigan (UK), and Liverpool (UK).
Then, check in with the Los Angeles municipal water supply. This is the only place I have lived where they have successfully cleaned up their city water after Obama ordered in drugged.
As one example, all of the LSD in my hair came from poisoned city water supplies on at least two continents. Children drank that water. Obama never cared whom he damaged to pretend I was crazy. Read this medical journal.
Ask everyone's governments to turn in their scientific evidence, and, my genius super women Powers of Attorney, press all charges you can think of from terrorism (sabotage of city infrastructure as an act of war) to felony negligence for refusing to clean it up. And, thank you.
Hulk smash. (Funny, I always thought my superhero name was The Hyphenator.)
I sat goofing off with my darling Mr. Art "TambourineKicker" Garfunkel chatting and singing along until I caught the bus back to my place at 11:48pm. I am sure a verified and unedited recording will hit the internet if not be included here.
I was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 1am. I was so lonely sleeping alone, as always, in my single bed. I woke up on Saturday, 06Feb2016, with a vast empty space where my lips meet. The physical solitude of Obama's "egg" is going to kill me.
I chatted with Josh before breakfast, and Gary sat with me as we ate our pancakes. Did everyone see my sexy knife-and-fork action? Giggle.
I was among the bustling Saturday Farmers' Market outside the Pico Branch Library by 8:21am. My internet gnomes played me She Blinded me with Science by my darling Mr. Thomas Dolby. The hot California sun was so bright that I was squinty-eyed in my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
[2photos]
As I sat outside of the library sipping coffee and singing along with my darling internet gnomes, we all learned my German accent is rusty. Cut me some slack, I am only human.
After catching up with my TweetHearts, I had a friendly conversation with a Mandarin teacher at the Chinese consulate in Los Angeles. Her son was interviewing for admission to Yale University inside the library. I wished him good luck when he came by to get her.
I was early for lunch at noon during which I chatted with Cynthia and Josh over chicken nuggets and pasta salad. By 1:06pm, I was on the Santa Monica Pier perched across the boardwalk from my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot.
The afternoon sun was so hot in the sky that I had to kick my boots to the curb even before my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle started playing their music at 1:45pm.
Did anyone else see the light show? Please both include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my afternoon on the Santa Monica Pier. Include a statement by my darling Mr. George Lucas about the quality of visual effects possible in live broadcasts in necessary. Thank you.
2:29pm on 06Feb2016: @NASA Does the #ISS still have a nanotech camera pointed at Earth? Tell us what it sees at 2:38pm. #LOVE @BBCNews @France24 @RT_com
2:38pm on 06Feb2016: @NASA @BBCNews @FRANCE24 @RT_com The lady next to me chose the color red. Did you see anything? Please release an official statement. #LOVE
My lovelies who add all of the photos, videos, etc. to the text I write for each blog post, please include the official statement from NASA including the recording from their nanocamera here.
On the Pier where the ocean met the sky met the sun met the land met the three of us, my darlings played their serenade until 3:58pm.
Long after they had packed up their equipment, we were still sitting on opposites sides of the boardwalk pretending we were not watching each other watch back. The romance was so thick we could have eaten it with a spoon.
At 5:02pm, I finally left to rustle up some dinner. I walked to the Von's on Lincoln at Broadway and bought a cold combo plate from a very gregarious employee named Travis.
By 5:49pm I was on my Promenade sitting beside a very petite female street musician whom I had not met yet (I think she said her name was my darling Ms. Cara Jade.) to eat my quiche Lorraine with both broccoli slaw and farfalle pasta salad.
The artists' shift change at 6pm brought me my darling Ms. Jackii B, but at 6:36pm I left her to be able to look around for my darling Patricia.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Thomas Roberts, and it was wonderful. I walked around my Promenade checking on everyone after that.
8:48pm on 06Feb2016: #TortureFacilityWarning and #MyDarlingsTentacle were blocked from reaching my Promenade. Check on us please #SquidsPoA @cctvnews @RT_com @UN
I sang a little with my darling Wheels, watched a little of my darlings Lika and Liza, checked on my darling handsome in the Trimana, stopped to appreciate my darlings Seis Cuerdas, and finally sat down next to my darling TambourineKicker at 9pm exactly.
I was furious over Dictator Obama intentionally denying me my loved ones and my beyond-necessary meditation all weekend, but my lovelies asked me not to pack yet another (expletive)kicking into this one blog post. They are so busy already with all of the follow through.
I decided to just give Obama a double whammy in my next post instead if he prohibits Sunday night date night again.
I hung out with TambourineKicker singing and goofing off until I caught the 11:21pm bus back to my place. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel. How long is the highlights reel in this post?
This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Sunday, 07Feb2016.
[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.
Why is the title of this blog post, "If There's a Bustle in Your Hedgerow"? That is the poetic lyric in Stairway to Heaven when my darlings Led Zeppelin stop their gentle ride and start rocking the hell out.
Do I believe in evolution? Yes. A lot of the mysteries about me are explained by my mixed-race DNA. For example, I am Asian; I am a natural brunette, but I have tiny blonde hairs on my arms.
Those who know what "survival of the fittest" really means know it has nothing to do with its common perversion into Social Darwinism. The genetic code in living creatures naturally changes over time, and the changes in the genetic code that can survive the challenges of the environment at the time are the only ones that survive to reproduce.
If you are Christian, you would believe your God created evolution. "Be fruitful and multiply," is exactly how REAL Darwinism works. As a result, if I cannot have children, I am a failure of evolution.
No we did not evolve from monkeys. If monkeys are alive on my good, green Earth at the same time we are, they have been evolving as long as we have.
Do I believe in aliens? Of course. I once wrote a letter to my darling Prof. Stephen Hawking about my views on this. Look at how vast the universe is. It is statistically impossible for us to be the only place with the right convergence of cosmic forces for life to thrive.
What does alien life look like, and what do they believe? There is no way to know until we find them. It would be absolutely fascinating if the same human race evolved on an alien planet but not very scientifically likely.
What is the Earth, and why are we here? If you believe in the Big Bang Theory, all matter and energy in the universe always has been and always will be. Yes, living animals convert matter to energy when we eat, and plant life converts energy to matter when they grow fruit. But the sum total of matter and energy in the universe is a constant.
My good, green Earth is an integral piece of the whole of the divine Universe.
We are here to learn and grow. Intelligent life exists to experience our beautiful world in all its glory and to create an understanding of the universe. We are here to answer the great mysteries of our existence as a piece of the whole divine Universe.
Where does my light show come from? As I said, all animal life converts matter to energy. All living creatures have an electric field much like the electric eel does. Because our bodies are controlled by our brains, the energy field our bodies create is also a natural extension of our brains.
As a result, we can control our biological energy with our minds. I have had psionic powers all my life. Much like the Nazca Lines in the Atacama Desert were not visible until air travel was invented, no one could see my conscious control of my energy until the nanotechnology cameras were invented.
I always refer questions about conscious control of energy to quantum physicists.
What was a conversation with me like before Obama's "egg"? Please follow this link and read my conversation in the comments attached to the video. The man with the username "Ontologist" was my darling Mr. Patrick "ADSR" Lidell. Ask him some time about the mail I sent him.
My beautiful world, my slavers refuse to answer questions about what forcing human trafficking and libel porn of me down the throats of America has done to race relations and tried to say they openly libeled me with a fat, ugly, White, insane, alcoholic porn star because "sex sells" claiming she was somehow sexier than the REAL me.
I want them held accountable for destroying the morality of American culture and for causing proven mental health genocide by propagating mass delusions about me.
The best question for them is: Why is there a show about me or "me" in the first place that I am forbidden from knowing exists? And why the hell are they trying to defend creating a completely hostile environment for me to live in with ratings for a slave broadcast?
My brave rescuers, how long ago did I ask my beautiful world to light white candles in their windows in honor of all of you who have died? Every soul set free to dance across the cosmos while fighting to save America out from under Terrorist Dictator Obama is a guardian angel protecting me now. I know I carry the burden of making my beautiful world worthy of their sacrifice. Do you have any idea what you all mean to me?
Please ask my not-human-trafficker nerds to both circulate and include here the security camera footage with full audio and visuals of me at Harbour-UCLA. Do people understand what you are fighting to protect me from? That was a typical literal torture facility paraded as a supposed psych ward.
The morning after Sigourney Weaver night, Obama's hubris forced him to pick me up and lock me any literal torture facility he could find. Please include here and circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of Sigourney Weaver night beginning when I put my hat on and ending when I gave my shoes to the drummer of my darlings the Foo Fighters.
I know what I mean to you, my brave rescuers, so I am trying to be everything you need me to be.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, housekeeping first...
I admit when I make mistakes. I was mistaken in 2014 when I thought I had a nest egg to furnish my new quarters.
At the time, War Criminal Boeset was obligated to deposit $100 a week in my Wells Fargo account every Monday. I was in the literal torture facility for at least three Mondays, so I should have had at least $300 when I was released against War Criminal Boeset's best efforts.
I had overestimated War Criminal Boeset's humanity. She had violated her obligations to me my entire unlawful imprisonment in that literal torture facility. In my own defense, I had so little faith I had a nest egg that I never blogged I had one.
How the hell is my one mistake grounds for a diagnosis of any mental illness by anything but a terrorist quack? How many times have the non-quacks at the NIH given me an all-clear mental health assessment since that conversation in 2014? What kind of judge still lets Obama's proven perjuring war criminals in their courtroom as anything but defendants anymore at this point?
Tear them to shreds. Thank you.
Also, my army of genius super women I call my Powers of Attorney, how to know if someone honestly mistakes me for an imposter or if they are just using that as an excuse to persecute me: It is simple.
People only need to obey Obama's "rules" around the REAL me. If they obey Obama's "rules" while attacking me, they know I am the REAL Squid.
Similarly, if anyone mistakes me for an imposter; they do not have to obey any "rules" around me. Who the hell would attack Syniva or Tylia like they openly persecute me anyway? Who would do that in my name?
Finally, my darling SynSyn, in Sep2009 we arranged that you would fill the spiritual gap left behind for my people if Obama's "egg" ever actually killed me. It was designed to be completely unsurvivable, after all, and you are the closest thing my beautiful world has to another me.
My BFF, please share with the world the letter I mailed you in Sep2009 detailing my axiomatic system for solving problems the same way I do in case you ever needed to ask yourself what I would do. The acronym BFF stands for "best friends forever." Thank you for being mine.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, much like at the end of my last blog post I asked my beloved husband to put together a summary of everything he has lived through since we first met, please put together your histories with me, too. Thank you.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, you are our only millennial. Apparently, I am having problems reaching your generation. Please include in your summary podcast/statement everything our world's future generation of leadership should be able to appreciate in the reality of my existence. And thank you.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, our story began as long ago as the night I flirted with the doorman at the Red Devil Lounge to get myself and my date, my darling 'Dabs, into a Dramarama show for free.
I always used to get all my friends past the bouncers with me. Ask my darling Mr. Oleg Gerovichev about that some time.
Leave out none of the storyline of our real life relationship. Of all my Queen's Lovers Five, I find our story the most romantic. And thank you.
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, we need to talk. You keep telling me you want me to switch you with my darling LightFoot as my Royal Consort. You know I still love and need you, right? Right now is LightFoot's time. You already had yours.
In your summary podcast/statement please leave out none of the conditions Obama put on your being able to spend time with me nor any of the people I asked you to speak with for me. You have been the equivalent of my Secretary of State for years now.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, I will be watching the SuperBowl today, but I will be on my Promenade for Sunday night date night after dinner regardless of whether of not the game has ended yet. I will see you tonight.
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, please make sure your summary podcast/statement includes the night my darling MannedUp was singing Summer Nights while packing up your equipment. I miss the nights when we still could chat. I give great conversation.
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, you have a public relations problem. I can only assume you needed a little extra time putting together your summary podcast/statement about everything we have endured as husband and wife. Obama's genocide has been too devastating; my people do not know why I made you my king. I do not know why they do not trust me on making decisions like these by now.
[1photo]
Beloved, do you remember the first legal action you made sure SynSyn could file? It was against my ABSOLUTELY EVIL father before he died in Feb2013.
His explanation to the court for why he deserved to commit unrelenting human rights violations against me was because he was "the man of the family" and therefore had every right to microcontrol my 30+ year old life. And the court agreed with him!
Sweetness, my evil father threatened you and commanded you to "Stay off [his] land!" to make sure you could never rescue me. How many brave rescuers died on the battlefield around Central Iowa because my war criminal father intentionally refused me enough of my own finances to leave for someplace safer?
My hero and my king, thank you for making sure my Arthur and my Lancelot work together for the good of humanity instead of competing with each other. It means so much to me.
As our duet goes, I long to touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain. And I will.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
