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Showing posts with label child abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child abuse. Show all posts

Saturday, October 30

Virtual 13th Step 12 Steps Meeting: The Search for Ether Absolute.

 It’s a challenge; discovering life as a circumcised individual, in sobriety contexts. 

On one hand, I didn’t even know that I was circumcised, to begin with. A former friend queried me, one day, during my early teenage years, and he popped the question upon me. I probably said something like, “huh? Oh, well, umm… yeah, it’s like… uh, that, I guess.” He replied, “that’s sick!” For my foreign countries readers, in the last appearance of a society’s generation (this was the time of Generation X; now we are in the Millennial Generation, I would suppose), saying “that’s sick!” could be tantamount to “that’s so awesome | cool!” or it may just be a ruse to implicate analytical sarcasm and disinformation, upon the recipient. The guy has a “sickening” habit of speaking disingenuously, and callously. We’re no longer friends, because he ignores responding to things that I ask him, whereas he seemed to be significantly engaged in torturing my loved ones, as well as myself; as if I could possibly be dumber than he is, in simple remote-sensing perceptions. 

Once, I got talked in to (in my head) sending the guy a photo of me, with my pants down. Nowadays, I have an xvideos quick take on myself, contextually xvideos… <_<, and anyone is free to discover that stuff. From then until now, I had, (or would) hardly conjure up, in my mind, just as I had been, as a youth, as an adolescent - I’d been unaware of this “difference” about me. I’d been flashed pee-pees of other guys, and they were “different,” too, but different from me, (I only really saw one of them, the other was inside of pool water, and the guy tried to make a deal of that we both do it, together, but I wasn’t really in to it, because I was taught not to do that sort of thing). What had become of some of these guys? A Dick Big Now? out of them, or something? Back then, a Dick Bigg would have been the ultimate. Nowadays, given some years in to adulthood, and some private time, left alone, who could claim that they hadn’t indulged all sorts of sexual fetishization amusement and erotic moments, based upon seedy-seeming niches? - whereas the Dick Bigs were a youthful transgression, and imperative demand, upon a future lover, of that their dick big now status would consummate of that they were over, and not possibly made of a little dickie fetishization, of their “still” pornography-indulgent minds - that’s what I figure: a dick bigg now kind of guy couldn’t possibly, over a large average of individuals, comparatively, be all that much better off, in abstaining from temptation, given certain circumstances, such as having no partner, incurring internalized criticism, rebuke, and humiliation, at the hands of peers or authorities, or, even within the structure of a heterosexual romantic relationship, of that the female leaves, while the male is still consummately a drug addict, and abuser, and he, in turn, in moments such as this, would inevitably, at least sometimes, still turn to pornography, for his satiety. 

I never got a requited dick photo from these guys, in return. 

Nowadays, in dick-centric circles, a bwopp-dick faggot sort of profile gets a lot of fluff, and respite, from the participants, who imagine, and live down - vastly illegal and intoxicated sorts of mindsets about “outing” the guy with an uncircumcised penis, sort of thing, going on (goes on). The hazing, drunken groups gathering, the remote-sensing stalking, the interrogations and accusations (witch hunting), the targeting of connections to the individual (isolation and casualties), the threats of public strangers, who show up to target the individual (gang stalking), and the disavowal and threatening of victims of the opposite sex (human trafficking, sexism, and bullying) - all of these things, and even at that, perhaps it’s not all and everything said, on the matter. It’s upsetting stuff, at issue, here, and the depravities are stacked one upon the other, quite richly. The guys establish an entire lifestyle basis of a claim, in superiority, of that, and this; this and that, and they decide, collectively, amongst themselves, that their claims, demands, and all-extents considerable - courses of action, are justified, of an un-Christian decree, and basis, whereas they had done themselves a dick bigg, through hormonal and supplemental augmentation. I had not known about any such stuff, whatsoever, until I became schizophrenic at age 30, and the angry confessions, after years of having been veiled, under abuses that I burdened, and at some point, I became aware of the fact that these individuals really are - at least, in some, or many instances, conceivably, and believably - certainly doing these things to me; to my figurative and imaginary self. They found themselves a sort of no rebuke to be seen, nor consequence. 

Sometimes, these players, in life, circle themselves amongst the psychiatric community, or the local fire station, and they demand the material resources of anesthesia, or some sort of carbon monoxide concentrate; as a perfumer, such concentration and specialty is otherwise known as an absolute: in this case, it would colloquially be known as ether absolute, from an etymology bearing upon Johnny Depp and Guillermo Del Toro, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, based on the writings of Hunter S. Thompson. Sometimes, in a downwind position, in life, an ether faucet would be unfurled, or some sort of strange, sadistic, ritualistic establishment, of strangeness, under the care of a strange-minded person (reiterative, but I could speak worser names upon people) - I’ve come to understand this sort of passive-aggressive intent unto dominance, over me, as a relegation and rebuke of the fact that I happen to have been circumcised, as a child. I simply have the mind of that I just “didn’t know” any different, and by the time I figured out that people had been abusing me over the matter, in private and collusive groups, and of a callous and calculating mind, that it were, half of a lifetime, or “most” of a lifetime, perhaps, so to speak, had passed - age 14 when I discovered that I was different, and age 30, or later, when I had begun hearing voices, and years gone on, after that, that I had discerned that this sort of penis envy issue - which is supposed to be a female’s plight, in early childhood, according to the literature, was significantly, and commonly an issue of dissent, and of attrition towards me. 

What more could I offer the people? Aside from my pornography, when I became good enough and ready to do it? Hmmpf. The demands of people for whom all of pornography is not, had not been - not been good enough for them, or that they had begun to claim that they cannot satisfy themselves - me, as simply just different, yet I scarcely receive “valid” (forensically analyzed) claims, of merit, of that women are displeased with my manner and attitudes, as well as my behavior, potentially being at issue. I figure that the ones who do complain, had been taken in, by the men, of the abusive clarion call decree, in society, and they act out, in a Stockholm Syndrome manner, within this context at issue. 

I’m not sure what else to say. Sometimes the words simply fail to have any meaning, and people enter in to abusive and inferior types of relationships possible, with such a person as that would do such a thing to me.

Friday, May 21

Being a 'Normie' Guy Amongst the Age of Hormonally-Enhanced Male Subsets.

 Of on Dick Big Now, 

I, personally, could maintain that I'm not quite up to, or for it, given that my underlying psychological sexual affinities draw much closer to extended foreplay and orgasm denial.

Not that I'd been having much opportunities in heterosexual dating arise, any time recently, but I'm banking on that people live longer, in general, over time; I'll improve in my life's circumstances, over time, and I'm [unbeknownst, previously] just a particular someone who's time has come to a generational halt: the ones who enforce these types of upstart cells are jackin' juice, trying to keep up with law enforcement surveillance detail, and sometimes, or for correcting physical abnormalities inherited from birth, or from youth, in their nurturing environment's circumstances. 

I'd casually experimented with Testosterone supplementation, on one occasion, in life, as a dumpster digger treasure-hunting bum, digging through a dumpster. I found a 1/3rd (or so) syringe labeled as testosterone in a dumpster, and I happened to be in the Fairfax district of Mid-City Los Angeles; nice neighborhood, so I figured, "why not?" I took it as that the testosterone was for external and topical use. When I got home, I rubbed some of the creamy substance on to my shoulders and chest, since that was the area in which I would have liked a bit of growth and improvement on. Over the next day, or so, I had developed a somewhat buzzing, electric feel, around the area, and the muscles that I'd applied the cream to had a dull ache about them, as if I'd worked out, which I hadn't, much, besides that I was out collecting recyclables. 

These days, I'm a bit bulky hefty, in my upper body, and I'm significantly muscular in my legs. I go on long walks around town, several times a week. 

Cheap trick shit, of a hooker, or « something like that », a Dick Big Now would commonly have of it. As for myself, I feel that I would be troubled significantly more so, if my penis was getting in the way of my life, in common scenarios, come to pass, as they do, all the time. For that matter, I'm circumcised. I don't have to worry about things in regards to my privates that my parents hadn't taken care of, already, and also based on what's known about health. 


"The human race is in peril because of people who use drugs religiously."

 - unknown male observer, 4:55 p.m., May 20, 2021.

At some point in time, I feel like many of my life's circumstances and problems do, in fact, arise from out of other people in life who take issue with me. The latest was just yesterday, where, the day prior to yesterday, I had serviced a client I'd met through craigslist, and he bore some resemblance to some other guy I'd known, previously. I don't really gossip about people; I try to keep it Christian, but the circumstance was that there was a debate over who was the most handsome tweaker Nazi of downtown L.A., or "something like that," whereas I'd garnered some support for myself, in the run for achievement of that end, in life, "supposedly," based on that women's remote personas were being portrayed as such. 

So, I get pwned sometimes. It's most typically portrayed to me, in my mind, as *some guy." At times, the man is shielded of his identity towards me, yet only for an ephemeral extent of time. Inevitably, the man is ousted of his veil of secrecy, and intimations of that a law enforcement officer, or some sort of surveillance agent, had been figuratively embodying the interlocutor, imitating his affect and formant through means of technology, whereas the person whom I am familiarized with had been, in turn, himself pwned by surveillance, and a drama in which he is presented with me, imminently myself, somewhere else in the world, by most means of imaging (typically). For as much as the portrayal of me is worth, of for « thoughts | imagination | beliefs » sake, the man finds the novelty of me timely, and an adjunct to ascending the ladder of sociable capital and narcissistic supply. 

Inevitably, when the ruses of transpired suggestibility become played back at me, I'm so commonly simply prepared for the relentless siege upon my freedom and autonomy, being that I am (and "we" are, for all intents and purposes) the same age as these people (I'm currently 39 years old), and I'd obviously grown up, as a child, expecting that I'd be living a family life, dating, settled down, working, more or less: standard stuff in life; I feign existential circumstance as though I'm now babysitting my school days' peers, as an adjunct mental health professional (although I'm unpaid for that task, and I hadn't gone through formal education for it; only personal pursuits in study of psychology and abnormal and antisocial personality disorders, of which subject had been of considerable aspirations, for me, in learning, given that I suffer from bipolar disorder, myself. The difference is, is that I'd had private medical insurance afforded me, through my parents, during my upbringing, and I'd been more situably appropriate for standing in on abnormal psychological stubs of egotistical and grandiose psychology traumas of my former peers, whereas I'd had a streak of wild financial and romantic successes, quite commonly, in my former early adult years. People became sick of it (guys, for the most part). These were guys that knew me as a different person. Don't people leave high school and establish their furtherance in successes in life, for moving forth in education or employment, via some route of expected progression throughout adulthood? 

It's trite, by all means, yet I sometimes emerge as the « graces-bestowed » charismatic self-aggrandizing and condescending narcissist.

Shit as it is, compared to intimacy and affections, we're only as much as handicapped could suppose of the situation, of that the belief of « sight unseen, winner take all », although, upon offering things a second thought, or a few seconds of stepping back, and establishing composure, it's apparent that remote-sensing-initiated encounters levy us handicaps, at best; we're not afforded our imminent concurrency of our physical environment, for one; forgetfulness, listlessness, and glitches in thought processes and memory are common shortfalls in such a developmental environment, where drugs are undoubtedly most commonly involved, and humility is a character trait and virtue that had perhaps not been imbued upon the unfortunate children inside of them, abused of that many of us had been, of some sort, and that it had gone without acknowledgment, or corrections, throughout and up to this point in our early middle professional semi-adult lives. 

Other people are treated differently, by these guys. The entire premise of American values, at their most fundamental, is fraught with abuses and dissidence, through these young men, as if virtue itself was disposable, and extending in to quantum mechanics and communications intelligence industry and productivity means we're somehow on our minds, whatsoever, as children that we had been, as we knew each other, whereas people still find my childhood self relevant, somehow, and I'm left with only supposing that misfortunes had befallen them, as hapless abuse victims of their early developmental and nurturing environment's had been all that they realize and care for; our fathers being faulty, for as much as they could have been afforded in life, whereas now, excuses of merit and attainment are null concomitants in life, and expectations, in intellectual actualisations and capable selves, that we could, and ought be, are falling short of ourselves, whereas the tape roll may or may not have some active attention and oversight | followup, if you will, by some distanced third party objectivity mind about the matter. 

In a more effective, impactful, and well-developed economy and society, intelligence would be expended liberally, as though we could play with the notion, while gaining in merits, for that developments, upon efforts, were the pleasurable pursuit and receipts of our blockchain ledger of harmonic tariffs expenditure that come to pass. At some point, artificial intelligence and machine learning superiority takes precedence over human-naked capable self, where quickness in perceptions to success ratios are commonly measures of intellectual merit, of just one form of merit, in intelligence quotient (IQ), and where cloud compute ephemeralities of remote sensing persona and presence, peering in, upon us, is the inevitable consequence of which we are afforded the liberal freedom of will, as it were, and given of that we are allowed our freedom of will, by our nation's constitutional foundry and formative statements. Surely, as some sort of anti-nationalist coup were to establish itself, we blurry the lines of distinction of identity, place and time, which had been regarded as self-indulgence partitioning of needs-based fulfillments pursuit, and "privacy leisure," such that I commonly end up finding myself commonly still pleasuring myself, watching pornography, whereas I'd had "good enough" relationships and attainments in life, to accept furtherance in needs fulfillment, such that I don't find, as a remote sensing abuse novelty, for men whom I'd used to know, in teenage and childhood years. 

Surveillance causes entropy.

It takes energy (heat, in essence, of some various sorts and forms). Sure, we take drugs; we "need" drugs, for that energy (our neurotransmitters and parasympathetic nervous system) are being actively monitored and interventions are brought forth, of our concurrent selves, given life. The monitoring, in and of itself, requires that energy is lost, in the process of observing and analyzing these slight and subtle broadcast and radar energetic signs, of ourselves. Many of us have personality shortcomings, of our upbringing, such that we find ourselves lacking in attaining the suitable and acceptable selves that we'd like, and remote sensing monitoring is supposed to be for the sake of improvement, not for abuses of others.

People appreciate their own sickness 

in the same manner that a smoker has affections for their own smoke-flavored phlegm, during a bout with pneumonia.

Sure, a guy might have a bigger dick than me, and I simply don't care for it. Who could blame me? I'm fine with my own submissive fantasies; I work these things out, over time, and I learn what truly pleases a woman: being self-sufficient, self-reliant, and non-problematic, whether it be in bed or not, and how much of bedtime relations ought be a focus within the scope of a long-term relationship, anyways? 

I'd shrugged guys off, recently, of a mounting psychic attack regime of on dick big, going on months, now, that it's been relentless like that. Is the threat of my conservative Christian nature aspirations in life seriously that much of a threat to men, of such a large swath of them? There are other men who are employed, for example, looking in on my topic issue remote sensing contextually, and I must say that the standard|-ly| employed demographic fares much better in resilience and self-esteem. 

Let's face it, stalker guys. We're not quite allowed the full freedom and agency support of the authorities, themselves. I don't know what's going on, of on dick big, but I'd suppose that it's something as simple as Freud's plighted child and infant stage dilemmas, whereas I don't know a whole lot about masturbation and sexuality of a time before I became cognizant and linearly-minded, of the world. That happened around age 5. One of my first memorable characteristic knowledge contexts was that I knew how to pleasure myself. I became a classical pianist, and my hands were imbued with extra focus, for example, given the extents of my knowledge base and repertoire of activities I might have, and did - engage in. Musical knowledge is one of the 8 or 9 intelligences, after all, and people otherwise appreciate musicians, and their lives and livelihoods.

It's like, they can't stand the fact that I'm me, and I receive pleasure from up and out of myself, sometimes. It's a sad thing, to be sure; if I wasn't me, and I had to be myself, as well, of some notion, but people are supposed to have something fair enough and decent about themselves, in any case. I worked hard in learning, growing up. As hard as I was capable of; yet people had been doing this "talking at me" thing since my childhood, I'm sure. All of this sort of knowledge base will inevitably become formalized in the future, and acting out in one's "private" time would surely reap additional consequences, once the statistics in communications intelligence become analyzed for cost and casualties incurred, compared to benefits of « other cells » of people who were allowed to operate differently. Keep in mind - affecting me, as a personalized favorite target has very scrum little effect on society in general, whereas common society moved forth, regardless, and despite that abused like this are playing out. Sure, it's a "easy" target to exploit - imagining that "talking at someone" is as good as "actually" speaking with someone, but you guys are mentally and emotionally unwell and immature. I say that there's some dick big and Freud's Penis Envy, or some other genitalia-sordid context underlying the thing. My penis is just standard normal, by any measure of evaluation. It's just standard, but was sexuality simply this much the issue at all times, every day, though? Women are going to learn standard and appropriately proper "stuff," sooner or later, and weirdos will be sorted out and fall short in effecting well and nurturing relationships, for courting abuses and psychosis, inevitably of that these guys smoke or shoot their drugs, whereas I offset the potential for risk and danger by limiting myself to snorting, and I honestly just don't, and can't - [quite] get that high. I don't get as high as these guys, anymore, and I feel that they are getting that high, smoking and shooting their drugs, or whatever, and sexually abusing me, as a false idol, whereas I become the representative of the sexually-abused person, in judgment over them, for the fact that sexuality had been repressed and reprimanded of me, whereas I grew up comfortably, in pleasuring myself, and these guys are trying to boycott and abuse even that, of myself. 

Saturday, May 23

For parents of antisocial personality types - an outlook and perspective from the front lines.

Being a parent is challenging, and perhaps a long-gone memory. (20 years, 10 years... I couldn't narrow it down, completely). 

Pigeon-Toes!!!


I'd say that I could relate, though, in that I used to raise fine pets - dogs and birds. I've raised a few litters of dogs, and dozens of birds - for me, it was lovebirds, but also several wild specimens - a blue jay, a sparrows, a hummingbird, that didn't quite make it.

The point is, is that I'd developed what I'd assert, is an advantageous position in the foray of nurturing environment - coupled with intensive personal studies, outside of academia - of abnormal psychology, both to repair damages that had been committed upon my youthful years, and, in turn, to understand the underlying psychology of the personality types that form, out of the young adult mind of the millennial, the later generations, with keeping in mind, the challenges and spectrum of diverse ecology of the mind's apparatus, within the scope of the nuclear family, as well as the extended family type. 

My type (currently) is clean-cut, work-ethic minded, heavily invested in laborious deeds, and acts of merit to sustain my station in life, as a homeless person, yet at least, that I'm a free person. 

My shortcoming is that I have a stimulant abuse problem, although I don't smoke or shoot up, only intranasal usage. (Perhaps once per week, currently). 

I hear voices. 

When I was a child, I was directly bullied for acting out, as far as that I imitated gang and popular culture behavior of the hazing and subjugation of females and cultural others. 

I've made my peace, as a sober man, in practicing the 12 Steps. 

etc. 

What I can report about this generation, is that many types of likewise-aged individuals have not yet come clean, and she'd off the young-life prejudices and joking natures of discriminatory and racially-slight attitudes. Many of the "unique" subjects, of my demographic, are being bullied in their own ways. 

Drug use is an obvious mechanism of this. 

Sexually acting-out also plays a large role in things. I can assert that many types of social strata cases, of your children, are fraught with identity crises of various sorts - narcissism, antisocial personality, borderline psychosis - I see individuals regularly who are speaking in to the air "at nobody," expecting a response. 

Now, I'm sure that you all know that they are not alone, in speaking themselves, and expressing their feelings and thoughts. Yet, the trouble is, is that they are largely loose cannons. Petty thieves, relentless drug abusers, sexually-indulgent sorts. I had been all of these things, myself. I do try to be a role model for your children, when I encounter this sort, but I oftentimes have a challenge of establishing that a higher power, in the social establishment, and in religion - exists. 

It's a challenging world out there. 

I'll keep people updated, as the years go on, with the results of my efforts surely to produce recognizable results, alongside other modalities of treatment and intervention that largely go unspoken, between parents and their case workers. 




Wednesday, July 10

A second-degree-removed 💗 flub. Some seminal thoughts, here: on dying.

As I had been a guy for the sociable scene this recent holiday week (July 4th, 20¹9);

I felt a confidence about the air, of that love, of that cleanliness, and good old-fashioned romance might win many over, including myself, as I saw many couples. 

Then, (twice, I believe « on a släde couch jaunt », I interred a heart flutter. I say twice-(removed) because it was <_ about="" along="" and="" as="" athleticism="" be="" better="" brought="" confidence="" deluded="" dying="" folklore="" forth="" get="" h4="" had="" how="" i="" immortal="" in="" it="" life="" many="" me.="" mortality="" my="" nbsp="" not="" obvious="" of="" on="" others="" our="" self.="" sense="" some="" that="" thoughts="" to="" we="" well="" with="" yet="" youthful="">
That being said, I'm fairly well-to-the-self as far as routine (getting back to it), and it was a good several to many hours spent in caring self-healing therapy; mainly of pressure-point massage. 

Some repressed memories came to mind, during several of many traumatic-crisis incidents that bubbled forth, upon my ⁴th of July weekend. 
That I am 37 years old, I felt it fairly iconic celebutante of me, (nearly) incurring a heart-attack. It made me realize several things.


  1. First of all, the attrition. Who wouldn't [given Scientology] be held at questioning and tribulation for justice? Is my objective reality different than others'? 
  2. Second of all, I felt like I was suitably seated only somewhat to have faithfully only dalliançèd a heart attack « émbue », as it were. Just a flub. My rote and good deeds unto faith towards the feeding of the pigeons had done me well, as for this go-round. 
  3. But what about others? Would they have haunted so bwamm, just like myself, and fared so dauntless jaunt regardless fwamm . . . the sidewalk's upturned now-ish? 
Fairly bwammAF to note, it's fairly unexpected conversational topic to bring up recent circulatory issues outside of the medical field, yet I'm a fairly astute abstracts-by-night reader, with a fairly well-to-do IQ to go with it. 

I thought about my interrent peers and their such-to-suppose (also [nearly]) heart-attacks. Regardless of (whatever), I feel like perhaps it (I); ergo: ought be wrought out in the public. 

First of all, it's a looming spectre for all of us, some day. I've determined that it takes death over fighting and waste to produce crystal methamphetamine. Nobody (supposed)...<_ div="" nbsp="">

Well, okay. People do give effort and produce will and means for the [<_ div="" go="" good="" identities="" much="" nbsp="" of="" others.="" psychology.="" standard="" the="" through="" we="">

But okay. Fwiff. But what's the point? We all fwiff, some alike, some different. 

The heart murmur, and subsequent blood circulatory debacles, which I had worked out in my self-physical pressure-point therapy, over many hours, became a self-evident article of forensics, given repressed-memories, time-elapsed had withheld from myself; I felt that it was so; as well, unto others who cho[o]se to a abuse me. 

Perhaps we were all harboring hidden resonances of childhood traumas that none of us were grown up well enough, by far - to the expectations of that God would not burden Man with more that He Himself could ought handle. 

The Bible rings true, and in society, we have the seminal works of others as upon our Daily Bread offerings of choices we might make, rarely noticing or remembering the unique traumas within each one of us who had been unduly abused, yet a formative self of abusive concomitance that had become our spectre alter self; our Sympathetic Resonance of pain, that formed our early lives; the framework that we had grown up within and amongst. 

Perhaps leading us to nearly die early, at some point in our lives. 

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