Recognize the Face of Narcissistic Injury

Oh, cry us a river, Zoe Quinn. I know it won’t make any difference in your case, but, do know that there are people who are not as easily manipulated, who have no personal or political power agenda and have a solid grasp on where bias begins and ends. These are the people who will never co-sign bullshit like yours.

Your entire ‘brand’ is a confabulation. It’s a story you have contrived by cleverly going in the direction of whatever topic of social outrage is currently trending. You’ve managed to jump on several of those ships and have sailed them straight into where you are today. I’m standing on the shore of my own landscape and what I see as you pull in with this shipwreck of a tale is a very dangerous person. Your unchecked volatility and narcissistic rage make you, indeed, a danger to anyone who comes within proximate distance of your life style of deception and manipulation for personal satiation. You are addicted to your sense of entitlement.

You are the quintessential abuser. Do not reproduce more of whatever might be lurking in the shadows of your chromosomal soup that would continue the madness that is you.

Knock it off

1. Do yourself a kindness and stop believing what you know others think about you. If they haven't expressed what they are thinking, we cannot presume to know, cannot control it even if we did know, and, more importantly, it's none of our business what someone else is thinking unless it requires something of us, directly. So, even if someone were to think you "weird", which may or may not actually be true, that person owns it and is responsible for what they do with it. You could possibly influence what someone thinks in order to change it, but if you did it would only be through some accident of chance. Human thinking is a complex process of equally complex variables. It requires considerable effort to understand and manage our own thoughts, let alone concern ourselves with what is being thought that we have absolutely no means to access directly. 

2. Who you are is not defined by what anyone thinks, even what you, yourself, think. Who you are is independent of whatever thought exists about you. And do you know why? It's because a thought can be wrong. Who you are is not subject to evaluation. It is an inerrant fact. Everything thought about who you are, however, can be completely wrong. And nothing changes the truth of it. In fact, I think just a fraction of what human beings think about the world surrounding us and within us accurately describes what actually exists. We get close enough to the mark to survive, most of the time.  But, not always. That's when we meet an untimely demise or misfortune.

Walking the Plank

2013-05-14 14.52.08
Rights owned by Clicking on this image will take you there.

Today, is my birthday.


I am not celebrating.

This may be the single most painful time of transition I’ve experienced to date. I can’t be certain because I haven’t allowed myself to experience what I’m feeling because I can’t afford the risk of becoming immobilized while trying to see myself out of my current circumstances.

Coupled with the post-surgery weakness, the enormity of pain, stress and emotion associated with the totality of what has happened in this past six weeks, alone, would probably cripple me.

That would have a catastrophic outcome.

So, I will spend today, a birthday, sorting and packing and disposing what remains of my stuff as I prepare for this thrust into a change I am really not ready for because I can’t safely process the experiences leading to it, yet. Not yet.

I have lived in this place my entire adult life. Next week, I’m leaving for a place unknown and without any guarantee of my being able to live there successfully.

Not happily. Just at all. I don’t know if I am going to be able to start over, again, rebuilding a life I must leave behind. And, I must leave almost everything behind. People. Things. Possibilities. Memories. Habits. Comforts. Everything I know.

But, I must stuff down my thoughts, fear, anger, grief, worry, despair, shame and force them to remain silent until I’m at liberty to fall apart. Because, there is no confusion about what I can expect once I begin processing all of this. I can only pray for God’s mercy.

This is where life finds me on this birthday.

The Purple Pill

ADVISORY: This post includes the frequent use of language that may be offensive. I typically keep the language PG or somewhat tame, but this post is as an exception. I will use tags to indicate posts that include nsfw language.

I don’t remember where this comment was found among the multitude of blogs but the drivel it imbues is representative of a world view that not in some small way projects an inexact interpretation of reality. Perspectives like this one require that one believes in the absolute inferiority of females as contributors to the creation and maintenance of civilization and its societies, the inability or inclination to think and behave rationally and a propensity toward deceit and dishonor. Sadly, evidence of these and similar beliefs is abundant:

Our social edifice is made by and maintained by men, to serve *women’s* long-term interests. It sacrifices male *comfort*, men’s lives, for female comfort and survival.
The pay off is expanded male reproductive *duty* and, critically, unambiguous lineage.

This suggests that men reproduce solely because they are dutibound and not biologically driven to impregnate as many viable females as possible to ensure survival of their genetic material into the future. That, if left to their own devices, men would prefer to shoot blanks when they have sex and die off as a species all together if the pay out was NSA sex.
In this vision of reality, men, perhaps as a function of their superior nature among all carbon based life forms, have transcended what biological imperatives and trappings other living creatures remain subject. Instead, this one half of the human species, alone among the inhabitants of earth, have complete self-agency, divorced from their organic composition that gives them the power to decide and the will to act based entirely on their independent powers of reason and impartial judgment that is untainted by the influence of biological process or design.

Does this not sound just a little too stupid to be correct? Is anyone else noticing the gaping absense of rationality that this world view requires in order to believe its’ precepts? It argues against itself.

Where i come from, we call that crazy.

It doesn’t help that it causes some women to laugh at these men, further widening the gap between them. Though, to be honest, that gap is probably nature’s way of selecting against sane women mating with irrational men.

Guys that think and behave according to these beliefs do not produce offspring with rational women of normal or more intelligence.

They mate with women that conform to their vision of reality. This would include women with pronounced personality disorders, stunted cognitive development and insight, delayed or diminished control response, and those with character flaws similar to those associated with substance disorder and antisocial disorder.

Epigenetics to the fucking rescue, I say.


As far as lineage goes, men are concerned about it, women not so much. Women know without any uncertainty whether or not the child they give birth to is their biological offspring (and the distinction needs to be made, now, since, technically, women can bear children that are not genetically “theirs”, i.e. surrogates).

Men do not know without uncertainty that they fathered a child born to a woman. Thus, they have created varying means of acquiring that certainty over the ages-some preventative (such as chastity belt like devices), some post-event such as DNA testing.

Prior to this, the world over could be overheard arguments based on logic such as ‘well no one on MY side of the family ever had ears that big.” and “ask any one and they’ll tell you that this kid doesn’t look anything like his father but is a spitting image of the guy who cleans their pool. Seriously. You need to check that out.” And, “I know I’m not that baby’s father because it don’t look nothing like me and I know that whore’s been sleeping around.”

You don’t often come across people saying “oh my god do you see this baby she just delivered? There’s no way that she’s the mother of this baby.” or “I have some serious doubts about this baby I’m carrying. I’m really worried that after I give birth, I’ll find out it isn’t even mine.’
Never happens.

But, according to theories of evolution, the name of the game in life is genetic survival. Motivation to ensure that one’s genetic material survives into future generations inspires everything alive to sexually reproduce. People do this traditionally by coupling up into male/female pairs and copulating. By hook or by crook, it doesn’t matter.

In the rest of the animal kingdom, males deal with the lineage problem by doing things like eating or killing the offspring of his potential mate that he did not sire (a real turn on that would be for any female, right? Kind of a mood killer, no?)

Some creative critters go about dealing with any insecurity about their paternity preemptively by leaving their penis inside the female to serve as a sort of plug to bar entry by the next guy that might come along and try to inseminate the female. I guess this is a situation where speed matters: the sperm that can cross the finish line the fastest, wins. Eliminate any competing swimmers, and, well, there you have it. A fixed race.

Then there are animals that bear litters of offspring that can have multiple fathers. Your dog, Lucy, conceivably, can have a litter of puppies that include any mix of breed physically capable of mating with her. So, if Lucy is Great Dane, there is little worry to have that one of her puppies will be part Chihahau. Not without some accomodations made on his part, anyway.

This is also a good reason to think it through before choosing one of those sample sized cross breeds if it’s a female.
Anything could happen when ‘Who let the dogs out?”

Using another, less erudite example, this comment was lifted from the same thread as the first, which was on the topic of women and to some extent what they really want from a man:

“As long as they get drama, the occasional shiny bauble and muh dik”

Well, there you have it.

Women’s ‘long term interests’ are really no different than men’s. At least for those men that successfully impregnate women. Her long term interests are to ensure the survival of her offspring and ensure her own survival to reproduce and even perhaps to ensure the survival of her offsprings’ offspring.

Comfort is a nice bonus, but hardly necessary. Hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is inherently NOTHING comfortable about the entire reproductive process for women.

Beginning with menarche, the actual bleeding, cramping business, sore breasts, headaches, hormonally driven crazy making, potential for death during childbirth, the sex act, itself, pregnancy (try shoving a bowling ball deep in your gut somewhere between your stomach and your intestines, carry it around for the better part of a year then force it out an opening the size of a quarter, then talk to me about comfort, k?), breast feeding, or menopause.

Not one damn thing. And, not excepting even the embryonic development of a female’s life, she bears the uncomfortable consequences of being a female every minute of every day of her existence. In today’s world, this includes any potential existence, as technology has allowed for the detection of biological sex for the purpose of terminating a pregnancy of an undesirable gender.

In the most populated and impoverished areas of the world, male offspring are exclusively most desired. Female infanticide is also problematic in those parts of the world that favor sons, making the ability to abort female embryos a very real concern, as it is hidden from external awareness and has the potential to create imbalance to the ratio of men to women.

When a population has more men than it has women, there are potential societal and global consequences that are significant and alarming.

So, do excuse me, a female, for seeming as if I am seeking some external source of comfort to compensate for what a pain in the ass it is to be female.

It is not, however, innate to female human beings to require comfort as a condition of reproduction. There is a population of men that apparently have absolutely no awareness of a woman’s capacity to endure and tenacity to ensure her children survive.

If men are attracting into relationships women that behave like children and make material demands to satisfy their entitlement needs, that reflects on their patterns of choosing women inappropriately equipped for long term successful relationships that include parenting children.

Men who marry and have children with women ill-equipped reap what they sow, as it were. If the woman you are considering good enough to bear your children has clearly indicated she is a crazy, untrustworthy, self absorbed bitch you really have to ask yourself if it is any surprise that 10 years later this same woman has raped you of everything you have worked so hard to earn, dumped you for a guy that makes more money and destroyed your relationship with the child(ren) you created with her.

That’s what fucked up people do. Men and women.

The lesson is not that all women will do this therefore beware of women. The lesson is to recognize why you accept inappropriate behavior and take risks in relationships with women that are fucked up for whatever reason.
Figure out how to be attracted to another type of woman. You may not want to believe all women are not wired the same way thereby making you accountable for making a poor choice, but what you believe is true doesn’t change reality. Just your ability to perceive it accurately and live effectively as a result. Just saying.

And, doesn’t the grass always seem greener on the other side? Because, as a female, if I were a cynical, ignorant femnazi type, I might look at the life of males and think it’s pretty cushy and convenient.

No fuss, no muss.

If I’m a big enough guy or can fake my way through the day, all I need to do, really, is wake up, get some food and water in me, avoid being killed by anything (including my own stupidity), find as many females that are either willing to let me fcuk them or that i can overpower and fcuk by force without serious repercussion, and then go to sleep.

How hard is that? I have no need to worry about anyone but my goddamn self. If I fcuk often enough, chances are I’m going to successfully pass on my genetic material, so my work is done. Life is fucking good.

And if I were a female viewing men from that perspective I might be prone to resent men giving me grief about any goddamn thing at all about how inconvenient it is for them to show any effort whatsoever in their life while demanding that I do more.

Yes, I suppose that could be the start of some considerable man hate. but, fortunately, thank God, most women realize (are sappy enough) that this can’t really be the way it is.

We must not be understanding something. So, we are perpetually confused for the greater good.

To be continued ….

this week, raw & uncut

The other day, this was our truth:

I had abdominal surgery a few days ago.

I have three small birds and we are not in a safe place. I am still too weak and in terrible pain to take care of myself and them both. No matter how much I hurt, they depend on me. I cannot let them down.

I am too afraid and anxious to leave the room I am staying in. I can’t go into the kitchen or to the bathroom unless I know there is no threat in the house. There is only one person in the house willing to help me, but, he is usually intoxicated and often forgets and leaves me without food or water.

The people who own this house no longer want me, here. They won’t talk to me. They refused to  take me to the hospital when I begged. Instead, they left. It’s because their daughter moved back into the house.

She has threatened to hurt me on sight and destroys my things. She destroyed my vehicle. She used my personal information to open phone accounts and buy a phone the day of my surgery. She stands outside the door and says things that are not true or that mean to make me feel worthless. I try not to hear her.

No one here will protect me or make it stop.

I am trapped, today, and I feel like my birds and I are going to probably die. I have no where to go. I can barely move because of this pain. It shouldn’t hurt this way.

I am alone. I am so desperate and afraid. I would beg anyone to help me, please help me. If I have to lose my flock I have nothing. We are each other’s everything, right now. The oldest is 30 years old. My Lou. Qt has been my companion for 15 years. Alo is only 7, but he is Qt’s best friend.

I won’t leave or abandon them. I promised them I would never let that happen to them.

Please help me keep my promise to never leave them.

Please, God, help us. Don’t abandon us.


I am so afraid.

there comes a time

I, alone, cannot solve the problems I have, today. The resources and relationships required, I do not possess. Specific to relationships, I do not have any with anyone who is both sufficiently invested in the outcome of my life and in the position to suffer ‘being hungry as the dog’ confidently.
Those things I would provide myself, I cannot. Not even the most base needs did I satisfy for many more months than I want to acknowledge, here.
So, it is at this point therefore that I must decide when it is reasonable to recognize that nothing noble is hoped for in suffering, longer, still, and make a demand on behalf of whatever personal dignity remain. A demand of self-agency should I come to that moment of recognition that, if not in living, then in dying, I will have mastered something–anything–other than abject failure.

The feeling of grief is profound, conceding that I have drifted to the bottom of an unfathomable world. One, I would never completely sense I belonged at any time.

I cannot think thoughts of never touching or beholding my children, again. That may very well be my fate should I live longer than the stones I kick in the road.

If I pray for one thing, only, it will be mercy. My entire life I have asked for and received God’s mercy. Death, I hope, will not withhold the mercy my suffering begs out to be greeted, in the truest sense, silence from the living. At least the living that offer sacrifice to their gods at the altar of scarcity.

God was not unclear that ours was meant to be a life lived abundant. No belief of abundance creates a merciless world. One I would not survive under any circumstance. Mercy is, to me, the love we bring and the love we are brought.

I am not a soldier. I am not a deserter. I am a fighter that remains until my fight is done and I step down and out of the ring and into something softer, more forgiving, more true.
But God knows I will fight until I am absolutely beaten. With everything I have. So it goes with me. So it goes.

But, how long should it go? Really?



The God of Beginnings and Transitions, Change and Time.


Notice, this is a two-faced ‘god’. There is some significance in that. Namely, transition and change are fraught with uncertainty, fear and loss, even when it turns out well.

I could not have faith in a god having two faces for what is already a challenging condition.

I will stick with the One I know (God, that is) as far as suffering the dark and often unwanted unknowns of life.

The Day is Iffy

I don’t know if I’m going to pull it, today.

The tightness that began in my chest when I learned that the ass-hats who have my birds are about to screw me over, again, due to their combined control pathos so that I might lose them, forever, has not budged.

I slept in 30 minutes stretches between hours of anxious wakefulness. I don’t even know if I managed a full 3 hours of sleep.

I know I was freezing my ass off outside before 6 a.m., this morning. I still can’t feel my damn feet.

Combining this imminent state of anxious panic with my lack of rest, no where to use a bathroom, not having been able to take a shower since early last week, another prospective day crammed in this 2′ x 2′ opening without food and surrounded by open hostility from once beloved people who have squarely lost their minds in some black pit of badness. (Real badness, as in evil bad not not bad-ass bad) .. it’s the queasy, greasy disquiet felt after eating a questionable burrito.


I have to keep my head out of my ass. Seriously.

So, this is what I got to work with, today. I have to begin with prayer. It’s literally all I have left, what remains of my mind. Imagine that.

Psalm 138:7 
Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me.

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.

I don’t know if I’m going to pull it, today, but, God knows I am going to try with everything I’ve got

Into the Wilderness

Generally speaking, i look around and think I’m surrounded by mostly incomprehensible life forms. It isn’t the overt, pedestrian words and behaviors that confound me. It’s the current I sense flowing beneath those words and behaviors that I find off-putting. A fundamental disconnect exists between what the people I collide with believe they are and what they show themselves to be.

I can’t exclude myself from this observation. And, that is what is disturbing to me. I think I love this and that person. I think I am trust worthy. I think I am reasonable. Then, i realize I’ve said something intentionally hurtful to one of those people I think I love. I lie about something thinking it will engender greater trust with someone who has something I want, like a job or knowledge. I abandon logic for emotional black mail.

I recognize doing these things and I don’t want to, or, I think that’s the case. And, i notice others doings these things, yet, never have I known someone else acknowledge the incongruity. If anything, i experience watching a tremendous effort given to obfuscate and conceal or deny what is real.

I never did swallow the idea that belief manifests into some self-created reality. The Power of Attraction I consider perforated with semantic rabbit holes. What we believe and perceive may define our experience of reality but not the truth of it.

Truth is not malleable. Its fixed and rigid and eternal. Other truths come and accompany it, but, this is the nature of what is true: it is independent from everything else. When this then that. Every time. No matter what.