LOok
Life is getting more crazy. if that can be possible.
i know african americans used to laugh or chide that white people never want to really be black. weeeellllll! we can hang up that story now. dozlal. the naacp rep/ i am not even gonna check the correct spelling of her name. i saw the story yesterday, this morning it greets me on bbc. the world is bizarre. do these people think no one will ever find out? makes me think of a ten days ago, and my lust love interest, i think he got burdened by a year of silent pretending...if what you are hiding doesnt break you, someone else will. the story will emerge. do you have a plan for then? it is wild. cause there are a bunch of black people who look like that chick. my cousin's white girlfriend in the late 70s early 80s was like her, and then there was something a bit fascinating about her for me. this white chick from the midwest, when i had never heard of such place nor used that lingo. i just knew it all did not fit my sense of the world that was my family and existence, and she herself, her features, werent all white, she was more exotic somehow. well anyway. you know i think that woman's name was diane? i should ask my cousin patrick. he is 60 now and a grandfather. smh.. life and memories.
so i wake up with amusing views.
thinking that the world is so increasingly crazy, i am encountering so many crazy people. and to me crazy is merely inconsistent. and look, on bbc now, grayson perry a psychiatric nurse artist. are there any mistakes and coincidences...well what i am saying is that i am so filled of the non-segue behavior, the psychopathic responses, the sociopsychopathic nervousness of the twisted. the dissonance, deceit and the subterfuge..and all these people refuse to go and get some help and guidance. so guess what? I have decided to do so for them. Since I am the sole one in the class with the brain anyway. I shall take notes. and return to sessions for sharing, if they will stop their life schedules to gain some insights...but who else but me.
i also woke up thinking did i really get/come here to sleep, dream, write and muse?
and so part of that is learning, teaching and exploring. so let me explore an old practice in a new time and write about it. let me do something old in a new place, and document it. i feel i am here to live a totally leisured life of introspection of every kind. and i am excited. i once wanted to have sessions with the uwi psychiatrist gerard hutchinson, but since regular citizens rarely reach out to a professional and say, i want to hear your views of the issues in the country as it relates to your work, and they be male and i be female and they not think i am making a move, so i does drop that shit real quick when i realize people on shit, that their life and culture does not allow them a larger grander scale of seeing the world, and that is part of this therapy thing eh : to develop a wider pantheon of responses to crazy stimulus.
i dont think the world will get saner, grounded or find more wellbeing anytime soon, so i need to go and contrive some new responses for quiet observations.
that delightful meal i had yesterday, of idaho baked potatoes and middle of the night my sinus was practically closed shut, and i could not figure out why, the sleep predominated, for which i am glad, but only when i wake up do i realize it is that. GMO. i am a lightning rod for so many things. madness. and every time i write that or crazy i cant tell you how consistently one or another twisted soul in some scenario or in remembrance of some out of timing response or projection they gave me that made me realize, this person i thought was sane, is really crazy. how consistently that has happened in the last few weeks in particular. so for people as well as for food. I am a lightning rod. i am the water stick...the means to find the solution
so my dream last night is from the one major starring couple in my life, the one of my long time closest friend. and his very mentally ill and off balanced and mixed bag and mixed up mate...and I have decided I am sneaking away from that corridor of their life, relations, dynamics and unraveling...you know i have told my friend for someone to be with someone crazy and off balanced, requires them to be so too. else you would not be with them. it is a thought I apply to myself. why did i end up in a place full of mad people. a country mad a culture sick. a land deformed and scarred, poisoned and dumped on? why am i embedded in a mental hospital. cause that is what trinidad is. the whole of it. read the history and one realizes. st. anns not in st. anns. those for the sane people. st. ann's is everywhere else in trinidad .i want to know why i am here. why i keep meeting the crazy ones, and not the sane mad ones. where are the well people/ where is the well. ? I am trying to find.
so in the dream last night, he was in some procession , ceremony or ritual, at his home, it was a new and different house, but the same character was there, but also in the dream, it was more so, more artsy, more avant garde, more cutting edge, and actually an old house. Like I now wish my grandfather's house was still existing, and i could have turned that into an art deco tapia trinidad house ..the big open windows, the french doors. the idea of integrating old architecture with refined fine modern attributes, like make the old kitchen real fly in all its old norms, . turn the bath and toilet into a fab bathroom salon. and the same small bedrooms without all its furniture. and perhaps build a huge gallery or more rooms under a gallery for the stuff put out...and then the whole place would be this symbol of caribbean artistry and verve. that is what the house in the dream looked like. and my friend was acting weird, and he was always behind his mate. and it made me think either that is the pinnacle of all that has been said, he is totally and irrevocably locked in, or that was the ceremony happening. although there were others in the procession as if it was a pledge line. and white cloth over their heads and eyes. lots of friends like every other gathering at the studio. and i was there moving around and floating as i always do, impervious to all or any.
the ultimate of this madness that is this place, this week. no not jack warner. the best option for the next prime minister. or the collection of the broken, twisted and sick that make up my normal daily life. but the latest financial ratchifee bold and emboldened with cash for a cant' miss advertising campaign of full page ads, news reports, and yet, I am the only single solo one i see raising an alarm
get this crazy.
a company been in various forms of ratchifee for a decade or more. as far as I can surmise, they been playing money chess since day one. something you can do when money is freely flowing, backing up to clean and launder, and you are at the trough. well..perhaps when the dispensation shifts and changes to the others, your time card is ejected out...and you find your operations squeezing over time into debt. time for you to really find the money to pay your partners, debtors the bank. so what do you do if you are chinese, syrian, white, monied? you set up an ipo, cause other people in debt, the poor and middle, dont think up some schemes, well maybe one or two, me, but it will be a cold day in hell to have the system take you on and run your gauntlet, if not set you up to take in your victims.
and that is what we have here. a brand new company. an ipo. going to the stock market, to sell shares, bonds? certificates? to the public. and what are you buying for $1000? the white male wealthy people and them, their bills and debt. it is part process of the patterns that led to the wall street crash. the selling of empty. the selling of inflated zero value. the selling of nothing. and what are you doing when you buy:? bailing out their troubles. you buying it wholesale, as if you dont have enough of your own. and someone everyone the landscape, the stock exchange the central bank the fiu, the justice ministry the attorney general ...all those persons and ministries, think this is perfectly alright.
see why i am going to take notes in therapy. you all fuckers need it.
after clico and duprey, here we are again
while you want to excoriate jack you quickly go to organize your money, i imagine.
i have no news on how it is progressing and its sales numbers.
i am going to find a way to steal and take every hair on you all's living dead zombie bodies and sell it back to you as a rare piece of art. each single one.
there are no witnesses so i have to be my own
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