I never really had any experience with how "normal" or "whitebread" people lived their lives till I was 18. And even then I was still cloistered in a remote world of intellectual pursuit and an inner drug and anxiety war. Inner within myself. Outwardly, the things that most people take for granted: stability, day to day certainty, some kind of emotional ties to the rest of the world, - these things didn't exist for me. I barely knew they existed.
I come from a very wealthy family. Wealthy both in cash and real estate. I'm not going to outline the advantages/disadvantages of this kind of upbringing, it's not my purpose tonight. I just want to make the point that in some ways, it's very isolating. It's a different world to that experienced by most people. When I say wealthy, I mean extremely wealthy, not affluent upper class, or well off coupla million, I mean, pointless arse fuck can't ever spend this shit wealthy. You see?
It didn't make any of us any happier. My father died at a relatively young age of alcoholism related disease, Cunta, (for the uninitated, my mama) has never had an emotionally peaceful day in her life. This imbalance expresses itself as violence. I was the youngest in my immediate family, and I think by the time I came along, she had completely degenerated. Black eyes, broken bones, bloody noses were the norm. I was often away from school because I simply couldn't turn up in that state without arousing suspicion. I remember once I lost the hearing in my left ear for months as a result of being slammed into a corner of the kitchen.
I can't hit animals or women or children. I physically can't. I've broken someone's jaw with a baseball bat, I've kicked another man's head repeatedly while he lay on the ground, I've king hit guys in the face and glassed someone in a pub, but I can't hit a woman, and certainly not Cunta. She's had a shit life, and doesn't deserve being hit about by her own son. My dad was rarely violent to us as children, but he knocked Cunta about.
The last time I saw Cunta was about 2 years ago, she left me in a hotel bathroom with a cracked skull. I ended up in hospital with a shaved head and I think from memory 13 stitches? Doesn't matter. I've not seen her since. With any luck, I never will see her again. I've since twice moved countries, and recently had to change phone numbers and hide addresses. She's not going to get on a plane and come over here, but I can't face her venom. Life, in particular my life, is too short to listen to that soul destroying vitriol. I no longer have contact with anyone in my family. I only really miss my oldest brother. He's very much like me. But nicer.
At fourteen, I ran away to Scotland. Life took a very nasty turn. It's all behind me now, but it's left me punch drunk and self protective in the extreme. At the first sign of ouch, I get rid off people. See the above statement about life being too short to understand why.
At eighteen, when I could legally inherit my share of my father's will, (Cunta made my life hell tho, I had to go court and whine, snivel, beg and plead, she drip fed my ineritance to me in the most minute installments she could legally get away with) life became marginally better, my unlucky association with a paedophile drug dealer left me, amongst other things, with an addiction to heroin and a paranoid fear, mistrust and disgust of people.
And then, the unwelcome news came that I had a spreading cancer. I was 18, exhausted, completely emotionally alienated from people and ready to give up. With all the will in the world, I could not have cared less. I wasn't depressed about it, I wasn't even nervous. I was like, "oh, something else huh?" The assistant surgeon wasn't terribley confident that I'd see the next 5 years even with treatment. Her words are like an epitaph engraved in my memory cells "You are the youngest person I've ever seen with this type of cancer, the demographics are against you. The younger you are, it just spreads, with treatment, we could maybe guarentee you 5 years."
I declined treatment. I am strongly opposed to vivesection. I was too exhausted and detached from to care and nothing seemed real to me. I was unwilling to let anyone, even a surgeon into my personal space, partly because of fear and partly because of a growing hatred born of disgust towards my fellow man. At 18, my disconnect with "mainstream life" was complete.(I can't really express it better, except perhaps to say, I have "outsider" complex).
The only regret I have is that I declined surgery, it's too late now. But even that, I don't really deeply regret. More of a "I wonder if?..." type of regret.
My experience on social media has been the first sustained contact I've had with your "average" Joe. It taught me a lot. People are (on the whole, generally speaking) conceited, power hungry, insecure, unintelligent and narrow minded. They are also childish, of low intellect and unable to distinguish between assumption, opinion and fact. I've also learnt that with these types of people, you cannot use metaphors. They don't have the capacity to understand them. They think you are speaking literally when you intend a harmless metaphor. Because they can't understand simple abstracts, they are suspicious of intelligent people. They think they are being made fun of and that the intelligent person is being sarcastic. Smack my head.
The first crowd I hung out with (more by accident than design) I wish you could see yourselves as I saw you. I wish for two minutes you could look through my eyes and feel the utter incomprehension I felt for you.
I'm very unforgiving of and impatient with,a lack of intellectual and personal sophistication. I can't help it. Disneyland/crackpot/ kiddie fun, dufus mentality makes me cringe. I truly wish you see yourselves as I saw you. I was baffled and hit for a six most of the time. This never bothered me until a large minority led by a dead dog, began a hate campaign. Stupidity cannot tolerate the mind that's disgusted with it. I wish you could see yourselves as I saw you. What kind of people are you?
NOTE WELL: the "you" refers to the large minority mentioned above.
I've already conceded that I'm unforgiving and impatient when confronted with what appears to me as idiocy (I mean village idiocy), my past of extremes of violence and "antisocial" or "socially destructive behaviour" (inflicted on me, I was 14 to 18 when the nightmare happened, I had no control over what happened to me for those years, this past, has left me very dismissive of "soft headed" magical, namby pamby thinking. I can't emphasize that enough.
It was an unfortunate day for all of us when I landed on anipal twitter. Would things have gotten so nasty if I'd not used my cat as an av? No, since I've tweeted with people who admit they are people (!) I've had no problems on social media with anyone. That has to say something, no?
I have no passing shot, no parting advice to give you. I read a brilliant quote on twitter that summed up my experience with a large minority of "anipal" twitter brilliantly: "Never argue with an idiot, he will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience".
The above is extremely good advice.
Cheerz and Love (I mean that sincerely, I don't hate anyone, just cuz I find your bizarre antics both repulsive and baffling duzn't make me hate you. You're kinda sociologically interesting to me)
PS: as for illness, the tiredness and increasingly frequent unwell, sick feeling is getting to me.
But even that is just a part of life for me. I really have nothing to complain of. Materially I want for nothing, I truly love the one I'm with, and my daily life is sea, cats (8) dogs, tropical fish, music and lots of other very cool blah blah blah. Wishing the same for you all. And I do mean all.
xox
