Sunday, 7 September 2008

Weds April 12

Birdies and Doggies, and God.

"pretty polly is a pigeon
she's got a gammy leg
and she'll eat anything."

Sheffield Shanty, by an 'unknown' artist.

So, I talked to the birdies today, or rather I listen to them, they like the songs I've been playing. I forget what they said, but it was highly important, God is calm, I hope, after the news I heard yesterday in the rain...they "don't blame you [me]",' even though a queen had been going mad out there, not 'up' there in Heaven...I put my hands together last night, when I went to bed, and my little brother had a meeting during his sleepover, he had heard it too, he told his friends he had had enough of the 'demons' outside in their cars circling the area like some forgotten misfortune of too much. He had a scarf round his chin and a cap on, I think he bought it in Spain, I like it, a communist hat...He told his friends he was going to pray for her, I heard all this whilst eating chocolate sandwiches in bed, thinking I should just eat, wandering around the house, making food, and then eating in the bedroom, feeling guilty and going through this problem, wanting to sit downstairs and talk to him, he was also looking up something on the computer and so I told him the story of this queen, and then tried to sleep, and so i then put my hands together and felt something lifted and golden. Baby sister spoke in her sleep as my brother talked in the front room downstairs, 'we are safe'...that was a reassurance, and so I felt it best to go to sleep, although I told them it was hard for me to get any sleep. I think little bro told my Mum who wandered round the house putting Alfie back in his cage, that he was going to fight for God. Alfie was promised a long walk by me yesterday, so he could meet more doggies and tell them he is King Of the Dogs, he enjoyed his walk, but I didn't. He has become something of a guard dog, sticking up for me against neighbours by hollering and barking in the garden, though he continues to piss around the house and even almost pissed on me, so I find this new moniker of his rather appalling at times.

I think you all know what is happening by now...I hear upper worlds, there are also 10 lesser worlds...

A man outside, (or should I write about the prostitutes first? yes, I was up late Friday night, on the sofa this time, unable to sleep, and I hear one in a car outside with a man, I hear him tell her she has been paid to talk, no doubt spying on me, then I hear 'If you don't act more Goy, you're dead', so my plan is to walk to the kitchen and eat some bacon sandwiches, I think about getting up and making some food and think about a man, 'honey are you telling me he was on the rent.' I find her question exsperating though it's funny, prostitutes seem to be able to talk with me well, they have a down to earth attitude, but I think they should be more American or Jackie Brown in their outlook, and tell these men who drive around with a tinge of fascism that they are idiots, or, perhaps, steal their money, give them a slap in the face...whatever, I explained to her he had actually said as a joke that he tells his friends he has lots of girlfriends...much more down to earth, but indeed I do not laugh and stay as quiet as possible...) is a demon. This is indeed an ancient profession, and I am ancient in other ways. Like, I was married once, but he had no idea, so I divorced him by shouting at him, many times. Modern roles.

This is perhaps a Holy War, all undoubtably a local disaster, I am sure that going back to that flat when it is finally built, will create some more problems, (it was burnt down, as my neighbour was in fear of his life, all local gang attitudes, I forget my life tilters on the underground, not that I ever get involved with this stuff) but not, IF my social workers finally understand that I need a good neighbour, and it is in a quiet area, without flight paths flying over.)

I had another of those conversations two nights ago, but I find it impossible to think about and mull over...I took it as a metaphor, that this woman, going a little mad, was a representation of God, being locked up in a bedroom, and telling me, 'you didn't even give me an apartment!', mean't that I hadn't (as the dog said to the king) HONOURED GOD...I have been trying to think HOW I can possibly honour God...

She talked to me, about how he hadn't given me an apartment, a little lyrical rhyme for you on one of my bad days:

I said, all you gave me was an apartment,
she said, he hadn't given you an apartment,
and he said she said
you didn't even give me an apartment,

what a load of rubbish,

she was crying in her bed, her face was in the pillow, she said, 'i can't believe we both finally read each other!', i metamorphisized into something you could call a man, just lying there in bed listening to her, impossible to talk to her, felt, it's hard to explain calmer, like I had given up my own problems in that hour or so, i could see her, and i felt, waht? bigger, like my whole body became fuller, not bigger, fuller, this is a conversation I shouldn't be writing about, almost sacred, you'd could call it, i just listened in the dark, baby sister wakes up and drops one of her toys on the floor, 'that one made you go mad.' i explain it wasn't her that made me go mad, (but I don't even know who it is) it was those men in that house, this woman is almost going mad herself, 'you took the doggies for a walk.' I say nothing or, yes i did...she shouts up at her ceiling with 'you didn't even give me an apartment!'...and the conversation filters away as a plane flies over, another dangerous annoyance, or the sight, and I go to sleep but ponder over it for the last two days now...and shout and shout and shout and get everything wrong.

And I took the doggy for a longer walk today...God is in my family, and in my Dog's though I find it hard to keep sane...

I am also thinking about 'daphne.'

I feel awful, I think I have headlice, I'm sleeping in dirt, and I have spots from smoking too much and not breathing and not eating enough fruit...erkkkkkkkkk

God is in my family, I'm proud of my brother at last, I had to tell him as I wandered back into the house through the rain that after the way he had been talking to me and my family these last few days:

'Your mouth is a crime.'

Though I find it hard to tell him off without giggling, when I'm being a girl. I find it very hard to get angry...the other night, I screamed at all the deomons lurking outside, but instead worried a neighbour...and I get too weak...

No, I'm not quite losing it...

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