June 04, 2016

Was he ever here Daddy?

He had stopped coming into our bed so much in the mornings and has been getting up later. We had to wake him one day this week and neither us of know anything until after nine on Monday. Think we will take that bank holiday to thank you even if it doesnt apply to Scottish schools. We was chatting hard from 6 something this morning though. We wanted to cry. We weren't there at the gate for him yesterday he walked down with other parents. We were asleep.

Didnt think we would be writing so early today. But seen as everyone, everyone on twitter is saying someone who choose violence for money was the greatest man ever we had to come here. How better a way to keep the white watchmen of culture happy than boxing. Punching people for a career isnt nice. Never had much time for all that "yeah but its just to get in a place where real positive change can be made" shite either. Tools. Where the fuck do you think that comes from? People who really are making positive social changes for anyone? I don't think so. They talk about in boardrooms. All white board rooms. A career based on appropriation, intellectual property theft and calling women "bitches" also keeps them happy.

The photo of him and Prince didnt help. Cant get the stinking resemblance out of our mind. "Wish we looked more like you Grandad." He would always shake his head obviously he didnt not to validate any self hate but we could get him sometimes to look us in the eyes and smile and agree.

When we looked today. We feel raw emotion of the compounds and institutions and estrangement but there is a lot sickness to now.

The resemblance, the ways he was hurting us, the make up.. the compulsory "work done" look.. your not my dad..

Some fucking year. Who knows. Track that went behind Logiebank, but probably not. I'm in my grandad's arms. That part is real. He's on his hunches with us standing between his long legs and leaning back against him looking out at "Dad".

"Thats not him is it?" We say. He shakes his head. "That was real wasn't it" We said thinking about the reoccurring image we had of Grandad fatally shooting him by the burn. He nods again. He looks dissociated and we keep looking up at him until he looks down on us and we give him a "shit happens" shrug and he smilies, laughs and moans, squeezes us and says he loves us.

We let a blast of stressed and arguing feds, a guy in a body bag, a guy one the ground by the tree line being franticly treated and maybe someone else being hurriedly walked away who all look like "dad", Louise pale faced saying over that she thought we would save him and feeling defiant, standing frozen as we lip read Eazy speaking to fake investigators while our ears were ringing, blood on the rocks and in the burn, dead pine needles stuck in our palms and so much else from that day wash over us and reach out for none of it. We already had what we needed around and we felt ok now.

We were committed now and there was no getting round that everyone was massively relieved about that. There really was no other options now.

Oh "brothers" the full horror of the slavery and the grooming and the children is going reign down on us now and we are still alone and still under the heal.

Many, many people are greatly concerned.

You know it works, the natural and unnatural relationships between internal and external exchanges. What you dont know about is all the humans we have studying that and supporting us with it.

If we could freeze the whole world until me and Pabs were out of the UK we would. Let us go.

Think we will be buying any more paint? I don't.