{I tried a few times over the years to catch these bits and pieces of memories as they bubbled up, but it was a difficult thing for many reasons not all of them known to me. notebooks would disappear, reappear without pages I thought were there, often it was my mind that was hiding things, sometimes it wasn't. always it felt like anything I wrote was being read. I've felt the presence for years of a consciousness that would cut into the brain of a living chimpanzee to further its own interests, certainly a mind like that wouldn't hesitate to violate the privacy of another human being.
I don't want to do a long piece here I want to get down two fragments of memory while Ihave them, it's not prophecy or preaching it's me trying to heal myself while being attacked and something I don't know what to call....swarmed?... how's that for the insistent crowding in upon of people who don't see you as an individual with a right and a need for privacy, but rather something they own, something that's 'theirs'?
so, I was riding my bike down the hill on Mill Street as it drops down by Mission High School, and suddenly I was on the ground, a car sped off, I got up and rode home shaken and something else but I can't get to it now. later my Mom took me to the doctor because I had gotten a 'puncture' wound. the problem was I didn't have anything broken on the bike that would have made that small hole, small deep hole in my leg. the doctor as I remember it, asked me if I'd been in some kind of trouble. the problem with this memory and many like it is someone else has been in here before this, before this surfacing time, someone broke in here, back in the 70's I think, though of course I have no way of knowing, and I think also someone has been in here before, that I admitted, but it's the forcing I remember most clearly, murky as it is, the scorn at the memories for which my heart was so achingly longing, the healing touch of being understood.
so that's pretty much it, I think it was a bullet wound, small caliber. I was maybe ten maybe twelve probably eleven.
the other one is undebatable. sorry guys, but this one is real for sure. another doctor. the interesting thing here is the hellish employment I have now requires me to deliver bread to people, not all obviously, some of them are decent hardworking regular folks, but some are the kind of half-kinky jerks who are sadistic to those who they feel can't avoid their sadism, I think this is common in the workplace, the idea being if you were the kind of person who wouldn't put up with it you wouldn't put up with the job you have. so one of the customers I deliver to is especially unpleasant, and is i believe either married to or employed by the daughter of a doctor who was my pediatrician when I was young. I don't think it was the same one who took the slug out of my leg, though. this one was giving me a checkup and during it while I was on the examining table he had me expose my genitals which he 'tickled' fairly roughly, I could feel the urgency, the disregard for me as an individual personality,as though I wasn't really there, and the hard surface of his soul boring in as he did it. I don't think I told my mom about it, I may have told my aunt about it, but she was a little non-acceptable, outside the fence, about sexual things herself. anyway, Doctor Tedone if you're still out there I'd like to say thanks, for that little extra weirdness that made it just that much more difficult to get through all this shit, because of course children who've been discredited, or coerced into silence, are unsure of themselves about things like this, things like what I'm writing here, things that aren't readily believed by others, you know?

next time maybe I'll talk about the wonderful fire ant experience at Camp Pico Blanco. }

{somewhere in there I had this presence phenomenon, but it could be just an echo, that woman, the actress who played Mary in Spielberg's 'The Taken'. just watching, I think wondering, a presence without real prejudice, sceptical, reluctant to let go the ties that keep her fixed in the material, without guarantees of safety. but you know it could have just been an echo, she was so good, they all were, but she was inspirationally artful. really the finest acting I've ever seen on TV I think, and brilliant shading, brilliant nuance. and sexy. real sexy. it hurts, she was so good.}
{probably my mind is playing tricks on itself, on me, or I'm doing it, or maybe it's true maybe I should trust what I feel, it isn't just me. it's real. so I am trying, near tears, and I hate that so much, it's so hard to get real emotions under these circumstances but I hear you insisting, and I will, I am, that's what this return is, grief so close, and trying, it's so easy to give up, and I know you know, and I feel that forgiveness from you, or not forgiveness but insistence, going on, I am. because of you right now, a little coaching, and as it continues because of all of us, but your love was there so strong, a little team, a big team, a huge team, and in the middle if it a little team, and a captain, you, sort of, the reason why. ok. you win. I'm trying. and trying not to whine about it. let's go.}
posted by Juke at 9:55 PM [edit]