January 09, 2013


Am I really doing this? Sitting in bed with an ashtray nestled in my lap, a spliff in one hand, a pen in the other, notebook resting on my thigh   Radio playing Stone Roses and Blind Melon, in this cardigan that I have now had for more than half my life and hair that still needs a cut. Again.  Its natural, the only route to go down that's why I keep going down it.  Even if I don't really believe in it. I'm still interested, fascinated and its the only area I have experience to build on and a will to continue.  Maybe even a will to apply myself.  Various me's are excited and hopeful others are raising their sad eyes and resting their sore heads and necks. The course has been pre-booked, the 'please give me money letter' in motion, the set texts written down and wished for from Amazon.  MA English - you never know. Jane Eyre is on her way.

The phone call to say I am probably not getting ESA must of spurned me on.  I was asked if there was any more information I wanted taken into consideration though. So maybe SuperShrink or BarmyPsych can turn things around for me.  The money would certainly come in handy for paying the university fees.  I have a friend who would help and I think my Gran probably would to, I imagine my mum will be supportive, she has been doing a short course herself.  Its inheritance from her dad and she would be happy to help, if there is any left.  Arts & Humanities Academia, its what I am, whats left that's real.  English because everything is about stories, symbols and language at the end of the day.  Also because the course can be prepared for by rolling around reading novels whilst spliffing up, copiously   I'm hoping because its post grad I will be more motivated in keeping up with the course work, my attitudes are softening, more capable of putting effort into getting into something with out screaming 'its all bullshit' and abandoning it.

On other matters, namely Operation Yew Tree and Fairbank.  I've been acknowledging something.  Most of the people who have been linked or rumored to have been linked with organised child abuse, Savile, Jim Davidson, Lord MacAlpine, Freddy Starr, Gary Glitter, Rolf Harris, and their producers, colleagues  etc well, they aren't too cute are they.  Not just physically from the point of view of a yummy mummy like myself but also politically  socially, spirituality.  They are just not pretty.  Constant flashbacks of sex with Savile throughout the ages has a different impact to flashbacks of someone who isn't so obviously a creepy mother fucker.  The damage to my sexuality goes deeper.  He never 'groomed' me, not in the since of making me believe I wanted it.

What when the moments of returning torture, of feeling myself naked on all fours on a mattress prepubescent begging 'please no *** thats gonna be horrific' after being told was to be done and shown what with.  First they  do it to make you feel sick, then to make you feel pain, then to make it feel a bit okay, then to make you feel really, really sick, then sometimes ok again, then really, really sore until its at it sorest then they finish.  What if all that involves someone that you see yourself politically  philosophically or in some other way deeply aligned   Someone with reputation and a contribution to the world that I feel is valuable.Someone who unlike Savile or Yew Trees usual suspects who had the intellect and the sensitivity to make have laugh genuinely me laugh as a child, as a woman.  How to I handle that?  It feels so debilitating knowing there is so much I am still hiding from.

I've been thinking the whole 'wee man might of been sexually abused that New Year.' is actualy 'wee man was abused that New Year by my nephew playing enabler with his mate and there has been much more risk since I've consciously acknowledged and I have involved the police'.  I don't really do January's.  So asking the police if this is true will have to wait until February, unless they get back in touch with me of course!  I just have to stop apologising for the state of my memories and for everything else that is and has been out of my control.  Show them I'm a confident, articulate, educated young woman who isn't going to crumble to pieces if they ever actually did give me comprehensive timely answer.  I have pretty vivid memories of being told I did the right thing by them in recent years.  I got him out.  But that freezing feeling, that knowledge that everyone, including me is keeping harmful secrets from me is so alienating and so belittling its hard to ever feel anything else.

Since I'm making attempts at dealing with actual shit here there is something about the McCann case I want to share. I've tried to tweet about this but I'm been uncomfortable and a bit scared.  This isn't about some noxious old Tory or something this is about a little girl.  Its is also takes a long time to get enough confience to challenge the 'you will not talk' programming.  Also, everything I say is the result of committee decisions from my multiples, many of which I don't know very well or do not know at all.  This blog does not want to be seen as an resource for facts, it is creative writing not journalism.  However, it is written in the hope that we can get beyond the brick wall in the way of current attempts to understand, prevent and heal the issues associated with all types of child abuse.  Namely, we place most importance on empiricial proven facts rather than admit that the problem and covering up is endemic and we have a very long way to go to the as far as understanding its causes and resourcing appropriate support to support victims or prevent offenders offending  are  that exists because the only people who know the facts as far as the law is concerned are the abusers and the victims.  Neither of whom are  particularly likely to provide all the intimate details to strangers in order to prove a point.  I don't have magic approach to fix this stinking rotting problem but I do think we need to admit that whatever we are doing now is not working.

So Jerry and Kate McCann.  Firstly, Scottish and high profile media presence.  Not a good sign as far as we are concerned. Scotland and main stream media were pretty much controlled by corrupt abusive groups or their friends.  Doctors - well if they are involved it will be particularly nasty stuff, without people with medical knowledge and access lots of the reproduction, torture and experiments couldn't be done effectively and cleanly (leaving no or little long term or permanent evidence).  Definitely though Jerry in Glasgow in that bar, somewhere between November 2004 and February, come to think it of probably a couple of times.  Last time he and Kate (I think) met someone who was I guess middle ranking, not a complete animal but happy to take the dough type, Scottish bloke (possibly media links?).  I watched them a bit the bar was quiet, shit had pretty much wound down by then. I knew it would be pretty much be over for me soon in terms of physical traumas.  It felt pretty cynical and sickened watching them.

The gut punch of a twist (there often is one) is that on holiday in Spain with my family and wee man, I wasn't looking at anyone too closely - no trouble here. We were sitting at a table by the pool when I noticed a girl at another table watching me.  I smiled back, I was talking with my mum and sister we were trying to make some excursion plan or something.  I noticed she was still smiling at me, she may have waved.  She was giving me enough attention that the man and woman with her told her to turn round and stop it.  It was a bit creepy, she did seems a bit older than the usual smiley wee bairn.  It was and is; as things often are, very creepy.  Anyway I pretty much forgot about it until I saw the computer generated image of what Madeleine McCann would look like older last year and for a second I tasted that vile Sangria that was served.  There is obviously of a bit of me, us that thinks she might not be dead.  That goes beyond recognising the possibility that she might be alive, that thinks that was her in Spain.  I did and do think that who ever that girl was she was 'scene'.  She'd been brought up on images of me and that's why she knew me.  I cant think much more about it than that, I've been stuck here for a while now.  Maybe you can figure it all out for everyone?  So I can move on to trying to figure out something else and don't feel their fucked up little lives, futures and bodies in the palms of hands anymore.  Its just the sort of story the fuckers invented and carefully constructed to make sure I'm always terrified and always confused.  When you believe you have been the victim of mind control how can you believe anything else?