Creating To Hate: The Making of the Bitch and the Whore

Story Ending Never

Whoever said that men weren’t creative beings? Well, they are. In a way. They’re creative in much the same way that they are capable of love. It is very different from how women love. Men love beer, or cars, or evolutionary biology, or vindictive deities, or women in pretty much the same way – without nuance. The ‘love’ is shallow, but intense, and is both self-oriented and self-serving. Men don’t love as a selfless act or in a way that helps someone (or something) other than themselves. Men love beer because it dulls existential pain, might be pleasurable on the tongue, and gives them a way of shirking rape charges in the rare case that a woman is stupid enough to speak truth about her violation in public. In the same way, when men love people, it is because the object of love serves them in some way. He isn’t…

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I Can’t Report it in a Place That Matters

Story Ending Never

I’m in the middle of spending money I don’t have trying to change my shitty life. I’ve never really had the resources to change my life for the better, but I have depression and cPTSD from living in constant exposure to racism and sexism and the violence and threat that accompanies that. I see myself sinking, so I’m getting desperate, and I know, as a single, childless woman, things get much, much worse for me with each passing year. Further, I belong to a silenced segment of the population who has no voice when it comes to violence. Female, middle-aged, non-man-fucking, white, childless, and unfeminizing. In other words. I’m not human, and most of the world, sadly including liberal, white faux-feminists, wants me dead or disappeared or just plain old silenced. My reality is not a story the world wants to hear. Because it destroys the narrative of the ‘evil…

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The Gods of the Global Warming

They finally granted us rain

It was now , or never, they said

And drizzled  some droplets onto the smog

 

WE waved up our arms, shouting ‘Justice!

When shall the whole world burn?

_The gods of the Global Warming

Started their march with us in turn

For we are here for them to devour- 

Right at the edge of the world…..

 

&&&& Inspired by the poem below & the inferno bushfires:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2019/11/25/australias-bushfires-are-catastrophic-when-will-politicians-learn/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/world/climate-environment/climate-change-tasmania/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/national/climate-environment/climate-change-siberia/

https://www.democraticunderground.org/1127134771 -this one’s tragi-comic. Bulls with fried testes……..:-))D

 

Ladies&gentleman,I can assure you the veracity of these accounts,- as royal We spent the last 5 weeks breathing in oxygen-rare smoke, watching the nature reserve around me filled with haze; seen 3 big, crazed Kangas hop by my window @ full gallop.

 

I’ve also been keeping a packed suitcase, updated my insurance in case the apartment burns down (it’s in a dreadful position, -surrounded by bushland for miles).i contemplated whether  -jumping in the pool- would serve as an emergency action

Tonight  FINALLY!Hallelujah!  i witnessed some moderate rain& a cool-down

smoke is still thick , however

* It has never in my 2-decade life here, been THIS bad. The worst scenario happened 16 years ago, & that only lasted around 2 weeks as I remember.Smoke was not this suffocating& it was later on in summer,burning down far fewer homes.        Those memories of sitting on bags& crates for the doggies’re vivid,-since our suburb was the next one over from evacuated areas. It felt apocalyptic then, but  Little did i Know… Tonight I heard someone’s smoke alarm going off (so smoke is now permeating into abodes)

 

What gives  this the _Titanic sinking, but the Musicians still playing_ effect:

is that i’m in midst of selling aforementioned unit.SO i’m conducting these ultra-polite negotiations with a young couple pursuing their Australian dream   ëõ

\likely to take them some years of selling their soul to the bank_-to achieve,but neither of us know whether the place’ll still be standing tomorrow

 

 

 

Rudyard Kipling
The Gods of the Copybook Headings
AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

 

Let the door hit you on the way out, Marty

i have my head filled with the devious scumminess of beta&omega men.Weird to be using such MRA terms,but they actually fit in this analysis

Marty=Martin Scorsese. ..`who has the look of one of those pathetic, snivelly little men. …who turn out to have really violent tendencies. Well, this particular bastard has spent half a century pouring out his violent masturbation on the heads of poor unfortunate cinema~come new age of TV appreciators ,..-such as Moi

I had the great misfortune of being compulsorily subjected to 1 of his famed 2-3 hour long bloody stupidities, namely  Goodfellas, @ uni Film Class.  COuldn’t tell u 1 thing which happened in the plot,since I sat thru it with eyes AND ears covered. (the sound was too violent to endure as well).I was obligated to do it -to mark for attendance

My 2 other Marty outings were driven solely by Leo’s participation (who’d won my goodwill thru other movies& his spectacular vocab IRL.Seriously, that guy seems to have the most expansive casual grasp of the English language. he somehow manages to make it sound a bit less dead of a lingo.). Those were  The Aviator &Shutter Island. The latter was the most tolerable (thanks to the genre being a fave of mine “ You dunno what’s real & what’s in protagonist’s head).  Leo, on the other had, was  godawful.  Had none of the lightness he had in his indie work, or  Catch me if You Can.  He seemed to be wearing lead acting boots. & eventually was led astray on a similarly masturbatory, bombastic path ,as encouraged by Scorsese. & that was the bookend on my investments in Movie Stardom as an institution. I steered off into finding enjoyable acting on TV, or with chameleonic actors

% I’m hugely into Acting & find it the only avenue in which men bring something to the table in this world. They’re born liars due to parasitical nature _\parasites’re masters of disguises

Marty had not produced a single girl-friendly film ever.His SOLE famous female character…was a prostitute played by an early-teen!!! ….Says it all really..  Loud &clear

~So lately this venerated Dood came out with this statement

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/dec/20/martin-scorsese-maybe-the-irishman-is-the-last-picture-ill-make

Gosh, buddy,,,,how shall I live from now on!?!?

©and how’s  this miserable bastard not aware that Superheros have been banging the coffin shut on cinema for the past 11 years?There’s only 1 nail left now.   And that this happened due to a specific kind of TV siphoning off talent; Zeitgeist +smart & under-served audiences for the past 25 years (30 if you stretch it all the way to  Twin Peaks) .He lacks self-awareness to attribute it to morons like himself too. He made zero effort in appealing to half  of human viewers,so we directed eye-balls to the  female -servin’ gap a new brand of TV (often Netflix}’s been filling

Oh, I forgot! he also managed to

a)take  Hong Kong-made,90 min-long , purely psych-thriller {with zero ‘fucks’ & only 1 outburst of violence handled stoically by the character}

&

B) copy it frame-by-frame

C) add 1 hour of pointless run-time

d)turn it into a ‘fuck’ laden, gruesome shit-show   filled with drama queen actors.

E)to make sure they were all drama queens,he took an already ‘skittish as a horse’ lead …& proceeded to use another ,proper drama queen ..to terrify him some more.So that he spends the whole film obv. looking like he’s on the verge of a heart attack (which undermines the plot at the root, since the protagonist’d immediately be outed! WTF…)

 

the Castle {part I}

This eponymous movie was shown to me as an introduction to Australia& for good reason. This sweet-toothed celluloid,*shot in a mere 2 weeks* is the quintessential piece of Australiana. There’s no movie out there more Ozzie then this one. (the TV equivalent is Rake.  the US version failed because it was too Aussie to translate)

So the plot goes thus:

A working-class family from Melbourne, Australia fights city hall after being told they must vacate their beloved family home to allow for infrastructural expansion…that being an airport.

They fight…~They lose.

But they establish a memorable catchphrase ,which is their answer to every question as to Why they’re trying to hold onto a compensated house,possessing nothin’ special

“It’s not a house.It’s a HOME”

 

Now,I’m a bit of a Real Estate junkie. I enjoy renovation&house scouting TV&browse listings for fun.

 

I half-grew up in 2-room units,which added up to the size of your typical Western studio, or maybe a smallish 1 bed @ most. My current 1-bed is a king’s dance-hallway in comparison

It is something ,which Japanese have to contend with&increasingly Western Europeans. 

 

Aussies, on the other, hand ;’re  spoilt  for space.Esp. those living outside of the Melbourne-Syd duopoly. Until recently,it was rather uncommon to spend long terms in apartments.They were more seen as somewhere u’d crash for a few months/year while you study,or pass thru, or use it as interim to find a proper  abode.

 

So figure my utter delight @ arriving here &moving into a 3 bed HOUSE (i’d never lived on the ground before),with a lounge room fit for being a ballet studio +a gynormous backyard+double garage.This was only a modest home by suburban Aus standard.I twirled around in that living room, getting used to the feeling of  space

 

which i could do because the month was Oct.You see,that stupidly big space{taking up half the home} was not AC-ed {and we’re talking Aussie,scorching heat here}.It had a tiny heating slit ,making it impossible to heat the room whatsoever.

 

This made this gargantuan space unusuable for vast majority of the year.when it was usable , i did cartwheels there….Since there was no TV or bookshelves there (due to the aforementioned lack of weather control). 

 

To top of the stupidity of devoting half the territory to useless space like this…;>there rest of the house was modestly proportioned. With 1 av. bathroom, 2 broom-closet bedrooms. WEirdly enough-a rather shallow bath. I remembered my teensy childhood flats to have deep Shower-baths. The Lounge could’ve instead been used on another toilet, bath+normal size bedrooms+storage.Lotsa storage!

 

More unpleasant surprises ensued…

 

      Such as the weird-ass;Floor-to ceiling windows. Again, for the esp. Inattentive {Aussie heat!! Where the less glass-the better!!}.Since it was also cold for 6 months of the year: doubly stupid. 

But wait  , there’s more…;..The windows were single pane! IN our apartments we’d have 2 panes of glass, with solid pocket of air for insulation.

 

The home was built with flimsy internal material. Walls were close to being paper.So zero insulation all round, or sound-proofing.I didn’t remember ever being troubled by noise from neighbours, or out on the landing back home,because that drab Soviet-era knock-up was weirdly silence-friendly.

 

Enormous backyard had no steps ,while residing on a steep hill. This oversight took a nigh’ 19 years to fix…..

 

And so the story goes the same way it goes ,when a civilising female “ adds her touch”.,, that is L” puts in back-breaking work & load of exec. Function”  to make a male-built &mainained space …actually livable for living beings.

 

She

*fenced the yard

* mucked out the cobwebs full of red-back spiders (look ‘em up ,:-nasty lil’ creatures, brrrr]

*installed AC +entire wall of shelving+inbuilt Tv unit in the silly, silly  lounge.

*put oil heaters in bedrooms.

* auto-doors on garage

*hung heavy curtains& patched up grate in toilet in vain attempt to increase insulation to some point above 0.

 

I have no frigging clue how my ex-step , who owned the home for 14 years prior, (+his cat}managed to live there before. There were no heaters in bedrooms. Did he just sleep in the dining room next to the gas unit?!!/…How did the cat not get spider-bitten?no trips to garage, i gather, since he kept the car outside……

 

All this effort certainly made the space survivable, if not exactly comfy. You see :the toilet, hallway+laundry were entirely un-heat,or cool-able.This wasn’t a problem in those flats:   since toilet wasn’t located on external wall, or had window.

 

Fast-forward 18 years,,and it was no longer survivable for my acute auto-immunity. Owning fur-babies made things worse, as you can’t lock them up in a room to conserve heat +cool. So extra heat-up /cooling time each time you exit&return.They had a dog flap in laundry.

 

Worse yet, the back bedroom was a furnace in warm weather.That big window made the mountain view real pretty, but i was close to fainting there once& wondered whether i could get burns from bedding on another.

 

Now my upper-middle friend was the only 1 i’d ever met with a central heating system (with vents in floor)and it was  aw-spiring,  i tell ya.I fell in sweet love with those vents. We had sleep-overs on the floor next to them.

 

These days i live in a mostly comfy place, but still not wholly suitable to my disablement (steps, nowhere to store golf cart i use as scooter, no yard for my future Service puppy, zero sound-proofing between neighbours +really echoey landing}.

 

But it is so easy to keep warm &cool. Beautifully simple. It has an unusual, oblong desigh, where you have windows facing both east&west.So you chill in whichever part of the house catches/doesn’t catch sun @ that part of the day.The windows’re covered by uber-size upper level balconies& the bathroom has no window+is in middle of house (so it’s practically always shielded from the radiation warmth\cold of external walls}. In fact, this is the cleverest design i encountered in this country.Much more livable than every Aus-dream suburban home i’ve been to, incl. The aforementioned friend’s up-market, funkily designed loft-style house >Esp. For a sickie like me.better yet – it has the Goldilocks kind of formula for space: big enough to stretch out it, but not so large that i leave something in 1 part of the home& can’t fathom going all the way back for it.

 

Since my upstairs neighbour’s coppin’ the roof heat for me, i’ve only run the air-con for a few hours this season (all but once, in late arvo for 1 hour) +her balconies’re working as my shades.Also it’s not a corner flat ~so no external wall on side. Shower has a hand rail,which is an immense help.

 

In my travails for a disabled-friendly abode,i’ve been imminently frustrated. As it  turns out, there’s zero market for sickie-adjusted housing. Gracious be the Isabel-gods, i’ve stayed out of a wheel-chair. But boy, even my moderate demands have turned the whole thing into an endevour, which made me understand as to why we have 6,000 young folk in nursing homes & the rest of the sickies being unable to live independently.

 

You see, the rental market is tight (4% vacancy some time ago),so landladies generally have no motivation to adjust anything for u.it is a sort of city, which many people use as transit,so rental turn-over is high. It’s easier for them to pass you up &wait it out till the next lot of students/contract professionals/unfussy migrants arrives; than put in 1 inexpensive, flexible shower hose.You can forget about any major changes outright.

 

The only way u can stumble on something remotely suitable for the unhealthy masses among us<is by that lessor’s family having a disablement themselves.Then they’d have put in shower rails, or ramps.That’s the reason i have a be-railed shower, which saves me from making bathing a terrifying experience.

 

If you own your home in a complex-u still need permission to outwardly modify it.The contractor i asked about this,simply bolted as she had trouble dealing with Strata before. They can actually sue the contractor…for modifying the client’s  own home

 

You also need consent for a pet. Oz is a dog-paradise,so lessors aren’t silly to ban animals on premise,since that makes them uncompetitive for applicants.But what they can do,<is select for the animal-less applicant.

 

^this is a bummer for Disabled Assistant dog-havers. Training a puppy for that purpose can take years before and if it certifies as Service animal, which no longer makes it a pet. This applies to people unlucky to arrive too late on the scene of dog-assistants,for there to be no certified dogs left due to demand&closed waiting list

 

If you’re a fortunate Invalid with some means, $ doesn’t work like it does in all other speres. It  literally  won’t open a door for you,,,,if u have to put in a ramp to get to that door .

 

Surprisingly,i’ve discovered that  more expensive doesn’t translate to sicky-friendly.  In fact, there’s no co-relation with livability either. At the lower tier of housing, there is so much benefit glimpsed when u go up a level.Everything’s less drab, newer, manicured etc.

 

Compromise Hurts the Outcast

All thanks to you,my parroting White-Guilty Sis& your knee-jerking.It freed my mind to seek out such insight as this:.:

Story Ending Never

Outcast: a person who has been rejected or ostracized by their society or social group.

We are taught that balance is a good thing. And, for the most part, I’d agree with that. In many areas of life, moderation – a sister of balance – keeps you healthy. Don’t eat too much of one thing and make sure you get a little of all the vitamins. Don’t sleep too little or too much. Overexercise will injure you, but doing nothing will destroy your health. Don’t work too much or play too hard. Etc.

Achieving balance or moderation is a matter of compromise, in my opinion. And we compromise constantly to maintain a healthy lifestyle. But is compromise, moderation or balance always a good thing? I’d argue that no, it is not. Sometimes, compromise is an attack on your convictions or beliefs. To compromise on what you believe, is, in my…

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