HeavenKnowsImMiserable
New Member
Faff is a great word. I hope it gets added to the OED soon, if it hasn't already
The Drivel Thread
- Thread starter Light Housework
- Start date
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
Spent an hour clearing my storage locker. Will spend another hour later, cleaning the floor of my apartment. For now, I don’t feel like doing anything but writing on Solo, but I don’t know what to write. The first thing that comes to mind is my adoptive sister. She’s usually the first topic that comes up when I’m stumped for subject matter to write about, but I tend to change the topic pretty quickly, because there’s nothing to write about that I haven’t already written many times. She’s hardwired into my nervous system. My little childhood brain neurons grew up believing that she loved me, despite her repeated attempts to kill me, and those neurons that loved her ‘back’ are still there, hardwired into my brain, to love her, no matter what new information becomes conscious, about for instance, her saying that she can’t talk on the phone with me because I believe that she tried to kill me. She denies everything. I remember much. She doesn’t like that. I wish I had the power to prove what she did and make her own up to it, and have her hold herself accountable for what she did, to me, pets, and possibly other human adoptive relatives I suspect she killed. But she never will come clean it seems.
I fantasize, that Morrissey and I will get together and become familiar with each other enough that we will mull over the idea of wining and dining her, as I know that if she believes that a rich famous man is on my side, she will jump at the opportunity to act like a sister. She’s deadly materialistic. She tried to screw me over once, for $4500 she knew I had at my fingertips decades ago. Back then, that was a lot of money to me, and she made up a bullshit story to try to get it from me. When I confronted her with proof that she was lying, she said “If all you want to talk about is money, you can say goodbye to me, your brother in law, and your nieces.” I knew that what she really was on about, was that she wouldn’t stand to be exposed as the liar she is, and I didn’t speak to her for decades, and a few years ago, I contacted her, and tried to clear the air about the attempts on my life when we were kids, but she denied everything, absolutely every last dreg of what I distinctly remember, and she said she can’t talk to me because of my ‘belief’ that she tried to kill me. So, that’s where it stands, but I know, that if she thought that a rich and powerful man were at my fingertips, she would be a nice sister to me all of a sudden, because that’s what a push button machine she is. Sure enough, the telephone would ring, and if Morrissey took us out to dinner, and I told her that we have to clear the air and talk about the attempts on my life, etc, before there can be a chance at us truly being loving sisters, and that I want Morrissey to be present during the conversation, I think she’d finally come clean, and maybe even shed a tear of remorse, and finally we’d get started at a genuine relationship.
I fantasize, that Morrissey and I will get together and become familiar with each other enough that we will mull over the idea of wining and dining her, as I know that if she believes that a rich famous man is on my side, she will jump at the opportunity to act like a sister. She’s deadly materialistic. She tried to screw me over once, for $4500 she knew I had at my fingertips decades ago. Back then, that was a lot of money to me, and she made up a bullshit story to try to get it from me. When I confronted her with proof that she was lying, she said “If all you want to talk about is money, you can say goodbye to me, your brother in law, and your nieces.” I knew that what she really was on about, was that she wouldn’t stand to be exposed as the liar she is, and I didn’t speak to her for decades, and a few years ago, I contacted her, and tried to clear the air about the attempts on my life when we were kids, but she denied everything, absolutely every last dreg of what I distinctly remember, and she said she can’t talk to me because of my ‘belief’ that she tried to kill me. So, that’s where it stands, but I know, that if she thought that a rich and powerful man were at my fingertips, she would be a nice sister to me all of a sudden, because that’s what a push button machine she is. Sure enough, the telephone would ring, and if Morrissey took us out to dinner, and I told her that we have to clear the air and talk about the attempts on my life, etc, before there can be a chance at us truly being loving sisters, and that I want Morrissey to be present during the conversation, I think she’d finally come clean, and maybe even shed a tear of remorse, and finally we’d get started at a genuine relationship.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I’m not interested in sending her to jail or otherwise punishing her. I just want to have an honest conversation.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I like to think of the planet we’re on as a spaceship.I do like the idea that we're all just temporarily grounded astronauts on a break from exploring the cosmos
nicky wire's legs
Christ is king!
Your poor sister. She sounds utterly normal.
JerryCan
Well-Known Member
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I like this picture of myself. It really shows how I feel.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I feel I am just beginning to know how to live.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
The rattle’s in my cough today and it feels slightly uncomfortable in my chest. I’m feeling sorry for myself and don’t feel motivated to do anything right now. I had a visit from a mental health worker and she was kind, but she can’t cure my chest. I’m still waiting for the call to set up an appointment for a CT scan. By the time I get it, the damage will have been done. I’m thinking that I may not be physically well when the November art show happens. I wish I would think positively, but for now it’s a wish not granted. There seems to be no escaping the mold infection in my chest. I can lay down and will the discomfort to stop, but I doubt it will. On the other hand, maybe I will get a reprieve from it, as I have in the past. Right now it’s hard to believe it will stop. No more attempts to sing will be coming from me, as my lungs are now deteriorated too noticeably for that. The days of having a lovely singing voice are over, for me, forever. I’m not being a drama queen. The mold infection is real, though it’s not been medically diagnosed yet. By the time it gets diagnosed it will be far too late to slow the infection down and give me more time. I might recite poems, but I won’t be singing anymore. It made me sad to hear how badly I sang Champagne Problems, and I gave it three tries. It’s hopeless, for my lungs, and the infection will surely spread, and it’s a gruesome death sentence, and my psychiatrist won’t entertain the idea that I really have a mold infection. He said that the only way to get a mold infection is with chronic exposure to mold. He doesn’t believe that one exposure to a concentration of mold spores can result in an infection. So my assertion that I have this infection is perceived as just my unsubstantiated belief. There’s only one person that I see, who asks me how my lungs are doing. She’s probably the only one around who believes that maybe I’m telling the truth. The physical sensation is similar to the feeling of anxiety in my chest. It’s not comforting. I’m going to lie down for a while and hope I will draw and paint the beginning of a portrait of Morrissey in Scotland this evening or night. I feel doomed. I know I am. Being in denial of that fact has been fun at times, and I hope to have more moments of optimistic denial, but right now, I think the best I can hope for, for tonight, is to be able to paint, and maybe get a little cleaning done, being thankful that at least I can still take deep breaths and live in denial while focusing on the task at hand. The ‘task’. Drawing and painting Morrissey’s portrait, feels to be an art, but I suppose it is also a task. I’d rather think of it as an art. I wish the slight discomfort in my chest would leave me alone, but I had to go and breathe in that cloud of mold spores that came up out of the neglected French press a year ago. I told myself “Don’t inhale!”, as I saw it rising toward my face, but my muscles involuntarily breathed the spores into my healthy lungs, and about three weeks later the rattling cough showed up. Then I fasted for 20 days and it went dormant for months, and I’d thought I’d escaped cleanly, until I guess the end of August 2023, when the sensation of anxiety and the coughing re-established itself, and has gone into remission many times giving me false hope that I could beat the infection, and at this point, I’m unable to believe I stand a chance at beating it. I will try to be graceful about gradually getting physically more ill and then dying. I’m not familiar with the process of creating a will, and I don’t have much to bestow on anyone, but I suppose I will get around to figuring it out, what to do with the little wad of cash I have saved up, my art supplies, my art pieces, etc. Rant over. My chest is feeling a little better than when I started this post. Maybe I will get a little done this evening/tonight, and enjoy thinking positively once again. Not everyone gets to die little by little. To prepare for death. Though hardly anyone acknowledges I’m going to get ill and die from this infection, at least I know I am, and won’t die unaware. I have time to prepare, to try to anyway. For instance, I have no idea who to give my quality coloured pencils and watercolour brushes and tubes of paint to. Something for me to think about, or not. Why should I care what happens to these things when I’m dead? I do care. I don’t know anyone who’d appreciate them.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I want this handy to link back to, to watch all 4 concerts from 2004. I very much enjoyed watching the first one yesterday.
nicky wire's legs
Christ is king!
Well, it was nice knowing you!
Joe Dallesandro
New Member
What the f*** is going on in this thread? Is there morrissey-solo lore?
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I use it as a publicly interactive diary, and hope that Morrissey reads it. I also use it as a virtual hang out.
Joe Dallesandro
New Member
I'm referring to nicky wire's legs' comments. I reaallyy hope you're okay.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
I’m feeling a bit better, for now. Thanks for clarifying. I haven’t replied to "nicky wire’s legs” since March 31st, and I never will again.
nicky wire's legs
Christ is king!
She's an awful person and she deserves all her misery!!
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
"I believe I will see you somewhere safe
Looking to the camera, messing around
And pulling faces"
Looking to the camera, messing around
And pulling faces"
nicky wire's legs
Christ is king!
Yer scary
Dorothy
Well-Known Member
I like the self-portrait behind you. It's really good.
Light Housework
The world is full of trauma.
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