Category: Stalking


This Moment IS

The staff on the ward have found my blog, without me giving them the address but saying angrily a few times that I was going to blog.  The ward manager collared me twice, once quite softly and the second time in a way which made me feel they wanted to take my computer and my leave away.  The second time she approached me with 2 other female staff members and in public.  She said she wanted to talk about my use of my computer on the ward.  I said it was music and that I have no internet connection on the ward.  She asked me quite crossly where I wrote my blog and how I wrote it and I pointed out that I have 5 1/2 hours total off the ward and I go where I can get a connection and that I have the same freedoms as everyone else in that time.  They said they did not like having their names associated with certain things.  I said that I have things associated with my name which I don’t like also, and that they were free to write or comment.  It was probably in that context that she said that it was a matter of confidentiality, but I took it to mean that she was saying I was breaking a duty of confidentiality which I was quick to point out that I do not have but that they do.  They talked about seeking advice.  I said OK.  I hope if and when they do the outcome will make a big difference in society and for people who are held against their wishes and with other forms of abuse, harassment and bullying thrown in.

This is good.

They saw me coming towards the office/ward exit this afternoon and it seemed to me they deliberately closed the office door and I stood outside knocking with them ignoring me.  This happens often.  The staff last night were calling people rude.  I’m not sure who they meant.  At the time it seemed it was obvious they meant me.

2 nights ago a woman had 2 separate instances of being forcibly medicated.  Hefty men called and involved, on an all-female ward.  If anyone knows how that is appropriate I would appreciate the feedback through comments.  She said they had hurt her hand and it was all swollen and red.  I know I have been there, in London.  It took 6 months for my hand to stop hurting, and the man doing it at the time, when I said he was hurting me, said ‘well, you will learn your lesson, then, won’t you?’  I was never contemptuous of my own life until I felt betrayed by the church and came under the psychiatric services.

We appear to have a large degree of revolt and anarchy on the ward at the moment.  Everyone is angry and the staff are, to my mind, often unprofessional.  Everyone knows what is happening but the staff say nothing, and I think most of us patients know they know more than they are allowing us to be party to and that, if we were allowed to be party to the staff’s knowledge of what everyone knows, a lot of things might be called into question.  Just a thought.

This blog is exactly what it says in the title, that and nothing else – the thoughts and observations of a certified nut.  Why would anyone want to seek advice over that?

Did I say that I had had a bad week as a vegan last week?  I was tempted again earlier this week but I talked myself through it.  I went through the ‘so I’ll feel guilty’ bit and realised afresh that it is about the suffering or death or utilisation of an animal in a way which is not ideal.  I decided we are different from most of the animal world in that we have a conscience and can think, philosophise and moralise about our behaviour.  I had tears in my eyes as I thought it through.  I was happy about that.  It is about the animal and about me, living according to my light.

Jesus is wonderful and I love Him.  He ate fish.  I’m not sure how to harmonise that.  It is said that the prophets were vegetarian and that the Essenes were also.  And I believe it is right not to use animals.  So I can’t deal with the Jesus and fish thing – not at all, in that context.  I think I was taught at Bible College that John the Baptist was an Essene.  So while they might have said ‘but Jesus ate fish so it isn’t wrong’, why would John the Baptist have lived by a higher morality?  We were told that when it says JTB ate locusts, it actually means the locust bean, and not the insect.

Excuse Me, Can We Talk?

When I was young, this is how I understood you approached a person for a relationship or conversation.

The current trend, which everyone seems to do to me all the time, is to grab your ear without engaging you in conversation, then fire little bits and snippets to try and ascertain if ‘you are the one’.

This is not a form of conversation starting and finding out I am open to, and when it happens I feel stunned and detained for another person’s purpose against my will and I feel powerless and abused, because all they want is to satisfy themselves that I am the one they have heard about.

Yet, someone is ill or injured on the street and people walk by.

Recently, appropriately or not, I want to collapse, just give up, let my legs stop   holding me up and fall to the ground.  Just stop trying, not even necessarily lose consciousness and that is what I anticipate might be the problem, because if I am not supported in that moment and if people leave me I might end up in the hands of the mental health services as has happened before, unless there is someone who will stay with me and insist that doesn’t happen.

So I can’t stop, I daren’t and everyone wants to use probes to find out if I am who they think I am and what they have heard is true, but they don’t care about me as a person and coming up to me and saying,’are you all right, can we talk?’

No one knows or cares, unless I say so, that I am in a violent situation and my stomach hurts and I feel sick and as if I have to deal with the situation myself because when I ask for help nothing is actually done to change the situation.  Therefore I feel as if I need to buy a cheap dinner service and ask the violent and harassing ones round for a meal, while I am actually living in fear day and night, then when I get away from the flat feeling embarrassed because I think I am being immature and over-reacting and it is all my fault and who do I think I am and I should know better.

And I write far more than I want to on posts like this because people keep grabbing my ears and life in that way and I get so angry I lose control of where I am going.  I’m a paying customer and it feels like harassment and extortion, not to mention personally invasive and disrespectful.  It makes me feel trapped by their assumptions, unable to back out of things then accepting responsibility for a choice which was eventually not made completely happily, and I feel, right now, as if I am under exam conditions, using an internet cafe, and panicking because I feel as if I am being expected to stop writing this and talk to the proprietor at his insistence and expectation.

I have no boundaries of protection that are respected.

This has been how it is for years, and I feel sick.

More slamming doors, incorporating my speech pattern into his speech, clearing his throat and employing a tone towards me as soon as I walk in.  I do not have my own voice.  These people are deliberately stealing and demanding my right to myself and what is mine to give, and I suppose I have to pay for having used the service as well.

He is angry, among other things, but he will never say so.

This is the only internet cafe I know in Nottingham.  But I feel hurt and everything.

Memo to self

To achieve anything of importance you need your own private space.

With what is happening around me when I try to use a computer in a public space, or even stand and look out at the fountain I walked beside after my degree ceremony and reconstruct memories and remember who was with me, I can’t even remember what it was I considered so urgent that I needed an extra hour on the internet before I did anything else.

Officials have been so unethical and unprofessional in their handling of my situation and the way they try to access it that they have left me vulnerable in every way.

I’m going to get a tee shirt made up saying ‘Am I the only person who is not allowed to cry and scream in anguish without being arrested or put in a mental hospital?’

If anyone else wants to use it, feel free.  Your design will be unique to yourself (or your company, if you will go that low).  If anyone wants it for company purposes I might hope that they would approach me so I can share their profits.

Basically the police seem to be standing back and letting things get out of hand until I crack and start giving it back to my aggressors, at which point the police move in to take advantage of the situation to establish a contact with me which, because I do not accept where they want to go or yield, ends up in me being arrested.  They stand back while trouble develops then take advantage, rather than making an honest approach to what they want from, for or with me.  I still have bruises on my wrist from Monday night before the clearing of St Paul’s, which is 9 days ago, and no handcuffs were used.  There was no need for force, apart from making my opinion of what they were doing to me known verbally, I offered no physical resistance.  They acted in anger and malice.  Also dishonesty, I think.  They told me not to go back to my tent, supposedly by that time knowing that clearance was scheduled, so even if I hadn’t been arrested I would have been in breach of their instructions if I had gone back to my tent for any reason, even though it was the only place I had to sleep and had no money for anywhere else and they probably knew I would need to get my things.  As it is I seem to have lost everything I had in there.  The City of London police told me anything unclaimed had been taken to Heathrow and I should contact the Metropolitan Police about how to get it, but a CAB staff member phoned them for me yesterday and they say they know nothing.

On Sunday morning 5th February between 9 and 10 am I was in the O2 Shopping centre at Finchley Road, NW3.  I have never been in there before or got off in the area for years.  I had noticed an express hotel while passing on a bus and although they had no rooms, they were happy for me to buy tea and coffee through the night and buy breakfast.

I decided after standing at the bus stop for a little while that I would go in and see what was there, see if I could get a cup of coffee.  I went into Starbucks at just after 9am.  A young policeman came in directly behind me and as soon as I had finished asked for a fuckochino.

I’m sitting in Caffe Nero at the moment fighting for emotional possession of what should be mine to possess, where they have repeatedly looked at me as if I am a nuisance since I came in, and they are trying to do some sort of operatic thing behind the counter.  I’m finding it distracting and an act of sabotage, at least in terms of emotional connection, so my writing is hurting me.  I heard something recently which makes me feel that the police might have leaked a photograph of me to people and places like these, or maybe this is just the way they deal with people they really don’t like the look of and don’t want around.  I say again, schizophrenia is imposed by ruling dishonest savages and is not inherent in the person.  They advertise free internet here, but seem to be doing everything they can to distract me in my use of it.  It is not supposed to be their creative space to the distraction of the customers.  If I wanted opera I’d pay for it or find it on the internet.  I certainly don’t want to be involved in an angry psychic improvisation in a way that totally grabs at and demands my attention, for whatever reason.  It is 8.07 am at Canary Wharf.  It seems there is a wave they grab at with singing every time I start to think and feel.  I feel fear and distress and hurt and anger.  Betrayal and discrimination.

But back to Starbucks in the O2 shopping centre at Finchley Road.  And if I don’t manage to write all I know is in me to write, I might hopefully be able to come back to it later.  These coffee bar people seem to think they are the new 5 star hotel staff or the aristocracy themselves, but that goes for all service staff everywhere, in my experience.  Always imposing themselves, no discretion or sensitivity.  They have the rights, they say in writing, and their power is always upheld.  But we are paying and they are the paid.  So if they distract or impose themselves it is an act of theft, as much as anything.  I know my recent writing must have done the grapevine, and they are deliberately trying to distract me.  That is harassment.  I’ve never been in here before.

I asked the policeman if he had asked for a fuckochino, and his mate (3 or 4 others had joined him, including a woman.  I only remember one but maybe there were two) said to him ‘did you ask for a fuckochino?’ and he said ‘yes, I did’, and they made a joke of it.  I talked about verbal assault and harassment and went and sat down with my coffee.  I sat in a corner as far away as I could manage in the hope that it would keep them away from me, and also there was an electrical socket to plug my laptop into, which was what I needed.

Anyway, they sat level with me, but on the other side of the room.  They sat there effing and blinding loudly for ages and no one challenged them.  They were talking about crazy, crazy cat and vegan frappacino, which is something I had quite a lot in Starbucks when the weather was warmer.  They have told me their syrups are all vegan, so I have it made with soya milk and without cream.

Shortly after they started this a man came in with his young daughter.  I think from memory she was around 10 years old.  I had noticed her on the escalator earlier.  She had lovely long red hair.  They sat in front of me facing me, and I hoped they wouldn’t leave as I saw their presence as my safety and protection.  But these officers must have gone on for about 20 minutes or more in this vein, and eventually one of them said something about the position being clear.  They seemed to be watching my reaction and gathering from it that I was not going to get involved, but blog.  Soon afer he said about the position being clear I said my position was that I didn’t like them sitting there harassing me and using that language, which anyone else might have been arrested for, and talking about crazy.  Although they went quiet as I was speaking they didn’t acknowledge me, but I think they left in a sort of silence a minute or two later, no apologies to me or to anyone else.

Afterwards I sat there confused, feeling as if the attention was a positive thing and that it would be treacherous, unreasonable and perverse of me to find anything wrong with it and to try to expose it.  I thought they were trying to centre with me, perhaps, and stripping themselves of all decency to make me feel secure and communicate that they wanted to talk to me and wanted me to trust them.  What else, after all, is supposed to be communicated by their lovely smart uniforms and their clean, fresh appearance?

Then I thought what if it was someone else being treated like that?  If I accepted it as positive for myself it would be saying it was OK to do to someone else.  And at Heathrow I was arrested for swearing.  Mine was in desperation and anger but theirs was a constant stream of non-stop, jocular, almost barrack room stuff.  And there was a little girl and her father hearing it all.  Recently they have been saying to me that there are children around when I have been angry with them, and I have said that I didn’t care.  In the situation it was emotional blackmail.  These officers did not care that this little girl was party to this behaviour.  I’m not sure they thought about her at all.  They could see her.  When they have challenged me with the statement that there were children around, I couldn’t even see them.

I was thinking last night about something I have read quite often, that there are people with such low self-esteem that even negative attention is seen as something to be desired.  That is me.  In the presence of such a clean image, even if they are acting like that, I feel like such a low life that I deserve it, or that they are even engaging in an act of kindness to tell me that they are approachable.

But yesterday I thought (I have just looked at the girl behind the counter.  She looks very angry and defiant of me.  She knows as well as I what they are doing) would anyone want their mother or grandmother or wife or daughter or any other female to be treated that way?  If I ‘OK-ed’ it for myself, would anyone else thank me for that?

I stopped to think just now and when inspiration began to come, when I started to level out with my own emotions and thoughts, one of the girls behind the counter said ‘here we go again’.  It is a deliberate act of control and sabotage.  They have just started singing again in the same harassing way.  I was not going to write about them, but since they are taking from me the things I am wanting to write about, they have brought it on themselves.  I’m not sure who they are doing it for.  Every time I stop to feel an emotion they whine it out.  That is a statement of fact, not hatred speaking.

I can’t go into it in depth in these conditions, I can’t access depth language and expression or thought or memory reconstruction, but I was feeling that I have lost my sense of where the boundary lines ought to be, that I felt guilty about not accepting their behaviour with gratitude in the first place, and that I still do.  The officers were completely inappropriate in their behaviour, and it would have been equally inappropriate with or without the presence of the child, and whether it had been public or private.

So that is it.  That is that incident from Sunday.  There were about 4 or 5 others over the course of the weekend, but this one was completely unsolicited in a place I have never been in before.  I’m almost afraid to make such a categorical statement, but I believe it cannot be OK.  However extraordinary the situation, proper procedure and approach should always be adhered to.

I told the girl’s father that I loved her red hair and thought it was beautiful.  I did think it was beautiful, and I wanted to say so, because there are so many instances of redheads being bullied and I read about one recently, and I wanted to affirm her.  Afterwards I felt as if I might have been stupid.  I tried to stop the father as he was leaving and apologise if my comment had been stupid, but although I think he heard me say ‘excuse me’ he didn’t stop.  At the time I only saw them as being a protection for me.  I didn’t think about them being equal victims of the situation at all.

A few minutes ago the girl behind the counter said loudly, angrily and challengingly ‘I’m spiritual’.  She has loudly said ‘sorry’ a couple of times, but not to me, though it was meant for my hearing.

A few weeks ago I read and commented on a blog called ‘disable me’.  I feel as if I am being conceited even to mention it and to say this is a deliberate attempt to disable and control.  The way she is talking at the moment I have an image of someone parading themselves angrily on a platform and insisting on being acknowledged and looked at.

Finished 9.32 am

She has just said ‘baby’.  And now she is singing Cum by ya, and has gone into mocking singing.

Edit 9.42  They are openly and derisively miaowing at me.  It is savage.

11.41 am.  I’m blogging after more police harassment at Starbucks, 99 St Martins Lane, WC2.  I want to laugh now.  I think I bring it on myself by not responding to their attitude and insistence on getting the last word with a sense of humour.  I think it shows I am not a good citizen, not having a sense of humour when they behave this way.  I’m not sure how they would react if  I were to laugh instead of outdo them and get upset and tell them they have no right to do what they are doing, etc.  I might feel better myself, if I could approach it with a sense of humour.  I feel I should say I am sorry for not respecting them in their job, and just laugh, then it would all be behind me and the world would be all right again.  That if I had done that years before I might not now be a 51 year old menopausal woman having to come to terms with the fact that I have not had children.

After 4 nights without a bed and people keep coming at me psychologically and leaving me feeling assaulted, I committed the crime of falling asleep after a cup of tea and a bag of nuts, which is all I can eat in Starbucks.  A little while before the police came I heard someone banging things around me, and that was obviously their idea of trying to wake me up.  I don’t respond to that kind of thing, though.  Also I find it hard to stay awake at the moment anyway, being aware, as I am, of the kind of psychological harassment I am getting from sales and security staff, let alone ‘ordinary’ people in the street.

The police woman, CW 2598 or 3598, with subsequent things from them after I got her number ‘m not sure if I have remembered it right, came in and told me I couldn’t just sleep there.  That it was coming up to lunch time and I couldn’t just occupy a seat without buying anything.  I said I had had a cup of tea there and I buy quite a lot of stuff and no one had tried to wake me.  She said they had.  I suggested I could go to the toilet and get another cup of coffee, then, as they do, she turned control of the conversation back round to herself by asking me what my plans were after I had just told her, and when I told her again she said OK and just stood there.  I asked her if they were going to stay there while I bought the coffee and she said yes, that they wouldn’t be doing their job otherwise.  So I was expected to buy a cup of coffee, hand over my money to these people, under police watch.  I snapped out of my drowsiness and said I would rather write to the company and complain about harassment, but that I was going to the toilet first.

I went in, used the toilet, brushed my hair and brushed my teeth.  Before I was finished the male officer (there were 3, 1 man and 2 women) knocked on the door and asked me if I was going to be long.  I said no.  When I came out they were all sitting there waiting for me.

I passed them and went up to the cafe staff and told them they hadn’t spoken to me or tried to wake me before calling the police.  She was acting as if she didn’t understand what I was saying, and said they had tried to wake me.  I said I was prepared to buy another cup of coffee, if they asked the police to leave first, that I was not prepared to do it under police watch.  Someone said something and I said I had the right to buy another cup of coffee.  One of the officers said the staff there also had the right to ask me to leave if they wanted to, so I asked them if they wanted me to leave rather than buy another cup of coffee, and they said they wanted me to leave.  The police then took control as I tried to walk past them freely and dsimiss the situation and walk away with some dignity, the woman whose number I have mentioned kept ‘backchatting’ me, so I went up to her to look at the number on her lapel.  I couldn’t see the letters, they were hidden, and she didn’t offer the letters, so I moved the strap, and then she began to get defensive and angry, saying I couldn’t just touch her strap to get her number (why not, after everything they do to me?  This isn’t just about doing a good job, is it?)  So we had a small argument and in the end I told her to stop the sass and the attitude and began to walk away, and as I did she kept it coming.  The male officer started making mocking gestures at me.  He kept it up for about 5 minutes.  I stopped in the street and said that I was not now acting illegally, just standing by a lamp post, and they stood there with me. They did not want to leave me in peace or in control, or acknowledge my rights with any semblance of real recognition or sympathy.

They crossed the road, still making gestures, and I shouted after them, saying they were supposed to defend the weak, not harass them, that they were supposed to be a service to the whole community, not just the money makers, I said they despised us and we despised them (where are all the people who hate the police when I am the one getting harassed?).  I said they were hand in glove with the money makers and the mafia, at which point the male officer making gestures looked as if he was about to come back over, but stopped.  I thought he looked angry.  I believe I spoke the truth.  He went back to the gestures, with a couple of men standing between us and just looking in my direction smiling and finding it ammusing, even though I was obviously distressed, and I shouted at him that he was not supposed to be standing there mocking me with his gestures and that he would have gone to a Victorian insane asylum and mocked people there, as was the sport in those days of a Sunday afternoon.  That is the way it was opresented to me, anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just the Sunday sport.  Maybe they could do it any time.

People talk about putting the mockers on people.  The Bible says that God will mock, and that he who sits in the heavens will laugh.  I have often wondered down the years if this mockery from people in authority that I have been taught to respect and trust is actually a legitimate part of their approach to people in some circumstances, and thought that my problem with it shows I have a problem with and a bad attitude towards authority.  That my heart is wrong and my dispositon is wrong and that I am rebellious and ‘a bad lot’.  I have thought on many occasions that they would have turned and done everything they could to help me, if only my attitude had been right.  I feel that, over the years, I have, in pride and arrogance, rejected my own redemption from all these wondeful people in society that have said they want to help and that I have accused of harassment and stalking.  How arrogant and selfish of me.  That these people, who are also suffering with me and trying to reach out to me for themselves, for me and for others being caught up in my situation, should have arrogant, proud, independent, ignorant, selfish, power-loving little me shake my naughty fist at them and say ‘no, it is stalking and harassment, you have no right and unless you come to me with the words of your concerns openly I will not respond to you’.

I’ve offended my leaders, i’ve lost Tommy, so it feels.  I want to see his face loving me, and can’t see how he could be anything but ashamed and disgusted with me, as well as hurt for himself.

i burn with shame.  I think I have played an unforgivable and selfish game, and that the consequences I am now suffering in final loneliness and childlessness are my own fault.  I think I am on the scrap heap where my leaders said the disobedient end up.  Yesterday I felt the problem was me and always had been, and had never been anyone else’s.  To some extent and in some respects that has to be the truth.  They used to say that you can’t just think of yourself as being as good as everyone else.  But that was what I did in my teens.  I used to think, look, I  can speak in tongues just like you.  I used to sing the songs and as I was singing them think this isn’t the way it is for me, but I never voiced that to anyone.  Except I think I did to Diane.  I can’t shift this self blame, and no one can help me to.

 

Police Stop And Search Slashed

The Evening Standard, Thursday 20th January 2012.

There it was, sitting on the front page of the Evening Standard, and I wanted to read it and knew I had to pick one up.  It is a free paper these days, so that was not a problem to me, even with under £20 guaranteed me to live on for the next 7 days.

I noticed several people within a minute doing the same thing, and smiles on faces.  Quiet smiles, but undeniable happiness and joy, nevertheless.  A tangible relaxation and relief.

“Police Stop and Search Slashed”, it said.

I couldn’t understand why everyone was not shouting on the streets with joy.

That is the power of a headline for you.  The keyword was ‘slashed’.  It didn’t say ‘ended’.  It was about an hour later, after making a happy fool of myself and parading my newspaper down the streets and shouting out like an Old Testament prophet (for I felt that was the power of the spirit within me) that we should all be having parties in the street and organising a whole month of street parties to celebrate a victory for civil rights, that I realised we had not all been sprung out of prison after all.

Singing and dancing in the streets.  Expressing and perpetuating the happiness and relief that was obvious in the people around that newspaper stand.

——————–//——————–

The whole and actual story is that the aim, at the moment, is to reduce the number of stop and search incidents and make the facility a more effective tool, perhaps concentrating on geographical areas of high crime.  The goal is that the ratio of searches to crimes detected should change, with the former coming down and the latter going up.

It is acknowledged in the article that there are many community leaders who still see stop and search as a valuable policing tool, without which violence and crime might increase.  Interesting, given the evident joy and relaxation on people’s faces.  That was how I saw and perceived it at the time.

We need to celebrate every small move in the right direction in the restoration of civil liberties.  I think organised street parties would not be a bad way to show that we are onside with this move and that we are happy about it.  Happiness does not produce violence, and from what I saw, we are happy.

When weak people resort to violence it is an expression of fear and outrage, in my opinion.  In physical powers for violence and the authority to allow certain officers to get away with abusing those powers, at least temporarily (some of them might hold the opinion that being brought to justice later for those abuses is a price worth paying for the ability to carry them out in the first place), the police are not the weak party.

The article also said something about the fact that the police should be calm and professional in carrying out searches.  This much should be obvious, and it should be obvious that any officer who is not able or willing to meet those standards should either not be working on that day, or should be relieved of their position permanently.  If it doesn’t happen already, I believe that a daily assessment should be made of an officer’s state of mind, maybe family circumstances etc, and their ability to operate those powers responsibly and respectfully with everyone they approach.

We, the people, need to allay the fears of our leaders, insofar as they are real fears, by showing appropriate joy at this development.  As far as the fears are hypocritical in themselves, we need to disarm the people who tout them dishonestly.  We will not resort to violence, we will show our approval and joy at this decision.  Our joy unbridled disarm people using this excuse hypocritically, and in some cases expose them, and that is necessary.

Personally I wonder how far the presentation of this decision as being intended to improve race relations is truthful and accurate.  I know this is not just a race issue.  This is a police and people issue.  All races suffer and have suffered from the employment of this power.

To bring the story back down to my sad, sole self again, as is my habit, twice this week, on two consecutive days, I was an object of unwelcome police attention.

The first time was Tuesday morning at Heathrow airport.  I was there the first day because I had tried to apply for a crisis loan at about 2.30 pm on Monday afternoon.  Without it I could not afford a roof over my head that night.

I had held the line for about 20 minutes waiting for the phone to be answered.  By the time I got through I told the person I thought it might be too late for the application to go through anyway.  She said her systems were down and it wasn’t possible to start an application and to call back in an hour.  I said that, by that time, the offices would have stopped making payments, and she told me that alternative arrangements would be made for paying out, since their systems were down.  I asked her if she knew that and what the arrangements would be, and eventually she withdrew that assurance, saying she had spoken to a supervisor who had told her that it was not possible to make alternative arrangements for paying a crisis loan for that day.

So with the little money that I had I looked on the internet for a cheap dormitory room.  The best I could come up with for the price was a mixed dorm, which I would rather not have if sharing a dorm is a necessity.

After paying the online deposit I realised that the hostel did not accept cards for payment of the balance.  That was a problem for me.  It was 6pm, I did not have any accounts with the minimum of £10 that would make it possible to take money from a cash point.

I checked the money in my pocket and realised I was 65 pence short of what I needed to pay the balance.  So I went to the Co-op nearby, where I knew I could get some bread labelled vegan and that I would enjoy eating, and bought some food with my card, which was the best and most practical thing it was good for at that point.

While I was in there I hatched the idea of asking someone if they would let me pay for one of their items with my card and them give me the cash, if they had been intending to pay by cash, but no one that I asked had been intending to pay by cash, so I gave up asking because I felt embarrassed.

Eventually I wondered into Charing Cross tube and rail station and walked up to a food outlet.  I saw a man getting money out to pay for his purchase, and asked him the same question, explaining my situation.  He just said he would give me the 65 pence, and actually gave me 70 pence.

Even then, I realised I did n’t have enough money for the key deposit, which is usually about £5 or £10 per stay, and I hoped that the proprietors would be sympathetic and understanding and allow me to stay anyway, given that I could pay for the room itself.

However, when I got there one of the first men I encountered was a staff member whp came up to the desk referring to someone being a ‘stupid, dumb cunt’.  When I told him a minute or two later that I had found it disturbing as my first encounter, he said someone had put an empty plate into the microwave and something about a fire or a fire hazard, and passed it off that way.

After he had gone I discussed my situation with the girl on reception, and she asked for ID or some sort of security.  I said they could look after my laptop, if they wanted to.  That was after I had suggested one of my account cards as identification.  She rejected both of those suggestions.

She said I needed government-issued photo identification, like a driving licence or a passport.  I pointed out that I was British and that this had not been necessary anywhere else I had been over the past 4 months, and that I didn’t drive and that I had lost my passport which, as a UK citizen, I am not obliged to possess anyway.  I told her I could pay for the room but not the key.

She said it was the rules that there had to be photo ID.  I didn’t remember seeing that on the listing and also said that they didn’t have the right to impose stricter rules than the law itself imposes on a UK citizen and that I thought they were acting illegally.  She had already told me that I couldn’t stay and checked it with her manager at my request who confirmed that, and I left with nowhere to go and not enough money to book something else.

So I headed for the airport, and I have already written about what was happening there in my last post but one.

(To be continued)

Incitement, Provocation and Harassment

There is such a thing, which is still legally recognised, so I believe, as incitement and provocation which might, ordinarily, were I not already tagged schizophrenic and dangerous, be seen as mitigating elements in any way that I were to react to it.

Last night a hostel booking fell through.  I couldn’t afford the key deposit in cash, the hostel didn’t take cards and I couldn’t withdraw money as I had less than £10, which is the minimum withdrawal from a cash point.  I tried to apply for a crisis loan earlier in the day and I was holding for 20 minutes, after which someone picked up the phone and said their systems were down and they couldn’t do anything about it or make alternative arrangements for making payments.

Because I didn’t have the key deposit they asked for photo ID.  I don’t drive, I have lost my passport (again, 2nd time in my life), and I kept insisting that, because I was British, I didn’t need photo ID.  But although the booking had been made and I was able to pay for the room itself, they told me I couldn’t stay without providing photo ID, so I went to the airport.  I won’t say which terminal.

I was harassed by ‘yellowjackets’.  At the end of their shift, their was plenty of space in which they could have talked, but they positioned themselves right next to me and talked while I was listening to audio.  I turned round later and saw them looking at me and hanging out to me almost with a lovelorn look.  They were like dogs after a bitch on heat (I used to have one.  They tried to mate with my leg when I took her out).

If they have something to say they should say it.  If they don’t I shouldn’t be getting their demands for attention.  What they are doing is harassment and invasion of privacy and feels psychologically violent and without justification.  It is that simple.

There is a lady at Deptford Reach, Dee, who keeps vamping at me with my voice and mode of expression. She is one of the workers and she does it to me all the time when she is supposed to be helping.  A homeless project worker doing that to a homeless client that she knows doesn’t like it.  She said quite deliberately today that something ‘drove her insane’.  I remained silent.  It was confrontational and I believed it was inappropriate.  She knows how I feel, we have had the conversation/argument many times.  She is imposing herself on/over me with me.  It is emotionally and psychologically disturbing and draining.  Then I have to go out, her having done that, and deal with all the other sickos.  She knows everything, I have told her, on the first day.  I didn’t tell her so she could do this to me with it.  I told her to help her and warn her and so that she could better help me.  That was about 2 months ago.  It is as if she is queening oin front of me with my personality, saying ‘what are you going to do about it, because I’m not going to stop’.  In the context it feels violent and I feel clubbed blind and stupid.

I feel I am answering my own questions as I am writing and believing she is trying to find a point of identification and to help and not to dominate.  But I go in trying to avoid getting hurt in the first place.  My guard is already up, because all the workers know and no one is saying anything.  Some of the male workers stare at me for ages with this energy, and keep shifting and marking and calling over me if I speak.  I makes me angry, but I know my anger is impotent, and so do they, and that makes it worse because they don’t move from doing it and I get the impression they do it because they think they can get away with it.  Every time I try to reclaim myself someone is on top of me.

I’ve noticed loads of people touch their ears.  I don’t.  Sometimes it has been obvious they are hearing a voice or some sort of psychic thing is happening to them.  I don’t do the ear-touching thing.  Maybe because I am in too much shock and am continually being forced under or open.

Mentally, emotionally and physically I am ready to lash out at these people, both those who demand of me or make me vulnerable, and those who look at me in fear or as if I am some sort of personal offence and to be treated as an object of disgust, them not even knowing me.  Those who take advantage of my fear of confronting them to impose themselves on my immediate space in a way they have no right to.  Yellow jacket almost skinheads (say what you like about moving with the times and it being OK, extreme nationalist groups still use it for initiation/identification, and a person’s first impression is created by sight and association), imposing themselves on a tired, homeless woman trying to get through the night, silently demanding attention from me, or standing almost right on top of me when I have my headphones on, with all the space that is available to them at this terminal.

The thing is they do this, and I can’t cope with the things I need to do, or remember to communicate (since most people do the voice takeover thing on me), so if these people are going to freak me out with this kind of activity, they should make the phone calls I need to make and pay for all the stopgaps I have to pay for while I am too hurting and distracted by the abuse to help myself.

I’ve been back 4 months and dependent on outside sources for most of my needs, including food and drink, all that time.

So the time has come, sitting in Starbucks between Charing Cross and Embankment, the one half way between, not the one at the end right near Embankment station, to ask if this outbreak every time I go in happens only to me, or if other people get it as well.

As soon as I came in (and this often happens with Starbucks, any branch) they jumped on me immediately I walked through the door and when I asked for a minute they replicated my gesture (raised index finger).  Then they immediately went into a whole load of stuff about ‘baby’, in a singsong voice which felt like a confrontation, but it also has the air now of being caught out a bit in what they are doing.  That, when it is time to hand over the money, is when I start to resent the whole transaction, and I told them so.  Today is the first time I have been in here.  They were also talking about bags and reacting awkwardly and to me that says that, whether they meant that for me or not, they recognised the thing in itself when they do it in other ways.

I got quite cross with them, saying it was subliminal interrogation and harassment and they tried to make out they didn’t know what I was talking about.  So I said to leave it, if they didn’t even want to acknowledge they understood anything.  But I also said I knew they did understand because they were salesmen and I had done selling myself.

Every time they have banged a surface I have seen by their reactions that, even if that time was not deliberate, they were completely aware that they do do it deliberately.  They were loudly saying words like ‘crushed’, loading it all with significance.  I’ve wondered for ages if it is some sort of club selection/initiation/rejection procedure, that this place which I thought was just an open, walk in good coffee place actually operates a selection process, very aggressively and violently, if my experience is anything to go by.

The thing is, they are always going on about babies every time I walk in.  ‘Baby’ this, ‘baby’ that, ‘baby’ for ‘maybe’, and there are plenty of people who would find that difficult for all sorts of reasons – infertility, still birth, abortion, miscarriage, cot death, for instance.  Both men and women.  I am not the only person who does not need this, and it is, by its very nature, visceral and inappropriate to be used in a selling context.

I don’t normally get the answers I seek, on my blog.  But for what it is worth, this is my experience, and I wonder if this is something they do to everyone.  Along with that is other stuff.  God stuff, vegan stuff, camp vamp (as I’ve heard it referred to).  They are doing a heavy emotional display right now.  At least some of it is theatre.  Every time they say ‘yes’ my reaction is one that I would have if lied to or assaulted in some way.  They are playing right into my face now.  it is really insulting and hurtful and they can see I am hurt by my reactions, and the man just hid his face behind the counter.  They are team laughing and mocking and intervening, aural interjections in response, I assume, to my body language.  Their own body language is quite aggressive and contemptuous, strutting up and down in front of me, and one of them just (15.35 edit) said something about ‘stupid’ and is hanging around looking miserable, as if I am supposed to care how he feels.  The same one that . . .

. . . (One of them) just came over and ‘asked’ me if he could ‘ask’ me to calm down.

It is viscerally savage and dishonest.

Posted 15.23pm Saturday 7th January 2012, UK time.

I need to abandon this.  She has just, this minute after 2 hours at now 4.30 am, stopped talking.  I was eating a sandwich and drinking a small bottle of wine and every time I took a bite or lifted the co-op plastic party goblet to my lips, she screeched out or otherwise marked me.  It completely ruined it for me.  What should have been a pleasant late meal and a drink turned into a desperate, defiant act.  I felt I was acting like an alcoholic.  I need more than ever in my life to control the direction I am taking, and all I ever get is spoilers on my case.

So abandon ship.  The conversation ended as soon as I wrote the title and completely changed where I was going to go, which was to start off by saying that I am writing this morning out of my unredeemed self at 4.30 am taking an ear bashing and ball game type marking from an American baggage.  She had actually got up to go, but she has just re-appeared.  A couple of times in my unrestrained open talking to myself she said ‘yes no’ and it was interesting how and when.  I have adopted a position of not being intimidated into silence by the fact that other people are in 2s and I am alone.  If people are playing the psychological bouncing game I have a right to talk out loud to myself about what they are doing.  And I don’t have pretend mobile phone conversations to do it, I just do it.  No props.  I just comment and moan and pontificate aloud.  I don’t lose the right to speak just because I am on my own.  People in 2s and groups have been playing that card for too long.

Almighty Gob, to whom all ears are open and from whom no privacy can be hid.

OMG I hate steam rollers.

Now I should abandon and delete this because it isn’t helping me change my attitude.  The lady, having gassed while others were trying to sleep or focus on their own stuff, has no laid down to sleep.  I feel like disturbing her.  If I don’t turn this crap off in my speech and writing I can’t turn off the emotions that I start off thinking excuse it and make it a good post.  Of course no one wants to see this dilemma in a post they are reading, not spelled out.  At the moment I am putting what I have written in this post and the cleverness I wrongly think is expressed in it, before my own peace and character.  That is why I am not trustworthy myself.  If you don’t allow a change in your own nature when the choice presents itself, you stay as you are.  You can’t produce what you are not just because it is needed.

It says I do on the website.

However, payment implies contract, and obligations of the provider to stick to the expressed terms of the contract.

Whereas the BBC makes programmes unavailable at will which are normally available, regularly pulls recordings earlier than even the 24 hour period they are advertised for, as with the BBC News At One or indeed any of those slots – if, sometimes, they are put up at all.  Or programmes I particularly want to watch broadcast at times I was particularly interested in carry the ‘this content doesn’t appear to be working’ sign.  Recently a lot of programmes where the next week’s episode was already being broadcast were unavailable for watching or download, even early in the broadcast, even though they should have been available for 1-3 hours longer.

And many of the ‘technical’ issues they will plead are technical issues not of machinery, I believe, but of law, or of letting their ‘stalked ones’ know who is the boss.

Well, if we are expected to part with our money to use this service, we are the boss.  If, however, the rules are changeable at will, it seems to me that is a breach of the contract we thought we were entering into.

I wanted to watch tonight’s ‘Newsnight’, because of a post I began to draft last night which I lost most of when I lost my connection to the internet, so I have to try to reconstruct it.  I lost my connection 25 minutes before I had finished the post, and never realised, because I was able to continue typing and even input category ticks.  I tried to save the draft when the most used tags menu wouldn’t fall, and that was when I was told the page was not available, and saw I had put too much pressure on my connection cable.

I said something in it about one of Jeremy Paxman’s comments last week and how I was grateful for it, and mentioned the names of some of the Lords I noticed on today’s session and jokingly wondered when we would see a Lord de Misrule.  Lo and behold, content is not working, at time of writing.  As on many occasions before.

So I don’t think that, in law, I should owe the BBC any money, because they regularly and at will break the terms of the contract for provision of the iPlayer and its use.  So as it is, I think the iPlayer should be seen as a facility that does not require you to have a TV licence.  And obviously the way they are using it might not only be in breach of Consumer Rights but also of employment contracts, if the broadcast presenters expect the material to be available and are somehow being bullied into accepting its unavailability to the public.

I’m in a Taylor Walker pub near Paddington.  There have been lookalikes of Colin the pastor from Kingdom Faith whose last name I can’t remember at the moment, and there is a lookalike of David White sitting right by me and he has been there for about an hour while I have been here.  As I remember him from about 20 years ago, obviously, not as he would be now.  The look, the carriage, the mannerisms, everything.  Mobile phone conversation, not sure if real or not, or if so much language of church and business and therapy overlaps these days.

In the corner there is a nasty little runt in green who, when I laughed, made a point of saying to his ‘friend’ something about laughing and sounding happy but being manic or something and you need to calm down.   That is psychological violence and criminal harassment.  I said something about everybody being a closet analyst these days and not even admitting to it.  maybe because they are not good at it and are only using it for harassment and control and what appears like subliminal attacks, even though they are quite open and obvious.  I’ve heard of double bluff.  I wonder if there are any terms for bluffs that go deeper than that!

Nasty runt in corner has just upped and gone.

What is this?  Is this the latest fashion in achieving a sexual conquest or something?  Man, it’s grubby.

Of course some fire is random and other is not.  I was just listening to Melvyn Bragg and his guests on ‘In Our Time’ discussing Delacroix’s painting of Liberty Leading The People, and the woman contributor pointed out that a woman used to be seen as a blank canvas on which to project any ideal, and to round off one of the contributors said you only have to look at the painting to see what kind of revolutionaries they were, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the two guns in front of her and behind her.  My first impression was that one wanted to shaft her while the other wanted to shoot over her head.  On second sight I thought they might both be more hopeful and supplicatory, wanting to draw Liberty to them.

I thought about something I read in William Blake in my Romantic Poetry class, about letting something fly as it passes otherwise trying to control it you lose it altogether.  I can remember an old man with scissors in his hands and somehow, either in the poetry itself or in Alan’s commentary on it, the idea of clipping people’s wings was disapproved.

Clipping wings.  I don’t know.  On a winged animal is that something anyone would ever do for the animal’s benefit?  I think not but I might be wrong.

Surely it can’t be done for the benefit of a thought or emotion either.  I keep coming back to discovering that if I don’t censor my thoughts and emotions to myself, even if I don’t express them outwardly, after allowing the thought and the emotion which I might instinctively want to censor and letting myself think or feel it without trying to repress it, I will come back into my own equilibrium.  That obviously doesn’t apply if I think the people around me are hacking my computer, in my writing I hardly ever recover my equilibrium, but on my own while out and in my own self that no one sees I do regularly.  I just wrote that bit about hacking and the woman downstairs said ‘yeah, baby’, with a derisive laugh, and they have been interjecting all the time I’ve had my headphones on.  But yesterday all the women screamed just before I went to turn my light out, and that decision all happened in my head.  But they have all been on at me all the time I have been here, they have no respect for anything most people consider decent.  When I leave I will say which hostel it is.  It is London, 12.15 am.  But they haven’t stopped all night and probably don’t intend to.  They are saying hallelujah and dobre and coming out with all the old accusations and harassment and violently striking surfaces.  I know who is violent and it isn’t me.

I was thinking today about the law and not having to implicate yourself in a crime.  I think that should change, if you know you have committed one.  You should confess immediately when asked, in the presence of a solicitor, and not to do so should be considered to be wasting police time and public money and changing your plea half way through to guilty if you have dishonestly maintained your innocence to that point should not lessen your penalty or punishment, since those are the terms we still think in.

A criminal should not be entitled to the defiance of not implicating themselves.  Nor should the police and other authorities be allowed to get away with the dishonesty and misuse of power which makes people say it is preferable that guilty people should have the right not to ‘implicate’ themselves.  I think the experience of the abuse and misuse of power often comes before an individual decides they need to protect themselves that way.  I don’t know, which came first, the chicken or the egg?  Whose underhandedness was winked at first?

When a community knows that someone is guilty of a crime they disapprove of, and that the person is protected by the present legal right not to implicate themselves and therefore see no action being taken, in some cases their anger can be a legitimate thing.  Obviously if it gives rise to violence or vigilantism or reciprocal crime that isn’t true, but a good community should not be expected to bear the brunt of the criminal’s present right to withhold information unless asked.

As a consequence, our society has tipped over into a really unhealthy place.

I can’t write more.  The screaming last night as I went to switch the light off sounded like what you would expect a gaggle of witches to sound like and there was obviously a spiritual dynamic to it. I wanted to write more, but I am going to wait.  And then it might not come out the way I intended.  Because we are now rife with violence and witchcraft in our country.  Threat, harassment, spiritual theft, intimidation, vile, savage mockery and defiance and disrespect.  Both men and women, rulers and ruled.

I’m having an awful time at the moment, as far as being a vegan is concerned.

I keep wanting to give it up and go back to ‘normal’, happy, easily sociable and available eating.  The only reason I can’t and don’t is that I believe in my reasons for having become vegan in the first place.

So miserable!  I believe in my reasons, that I have no needs that require the death or utilisation of any other animal.  But recently I have wanted to rush straight back, with great joy, to being omnivorous.

I say ‘only one reason’, but that isn’t quite true.  Also my stalkers would never let it rest, and having made such a big thing about the rightness of veganism, I would be embarrassed.  I’d be confused myself, though, and I would also be doing an act of violence to myself to go back to being omnivorous.  People might get all chummy with me about having seen the light of omnivorism, and the error of my ways in trying to be vegan.  And sitting here writing this, right now, I can’t say for sure that I could never agree with that.  That would be saying that the life of an animal doesn’t matter so much that we can’t eat it, which is what I was brought up with, that we have God’s blessing to take an animal’s life for food.  I would like to believe that is true and feel I am just being proud and rebellious saying it isn’t.

I feel mesmerised, and also that I just can’t be bothered being a vegan anymore.  But as ever I don’t know what I feel and think as soon as I try to put it to print and think about it.  The same stuff is still happening.  I can’t tell the path from the scrub.

Internal tapes:

1.  Animals are for eating

2.  Christian Fundamentaslism is good or

3.  Christian fundamentalism is convenient because

4.  I want to eat what I can eat with fundamentalist, right-wing Christians

5.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian.  If God says I can kill for ease and appetite, I CAN, and thank God for that!  If he says it I don’t have to think about it.  (what is this resentment I have against those who will not kill?  What is this need, what is this love, this strong emotion, I feel for and towards those who will not kill to eat?  It must be admiration, and more.  That the position of these people is where my heart is, the place I am challenged to recognise as right.  I would hate to convert someone from veganism/vegetarianism to being omnivorous.  I would hate to bring them down from their high place to such a place of shame.  And I would hate to have them validate my own).

6.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian, in many ways, but also being a vegan, I could never fit in.  I would be teased all the time for being a vegan, and if I objected, it would be MY holiness called into question, and not theirs.  It could be fun and humorous, but there will also be those who go, in absolute conviction, for the fact that the Bible says that after the flood, God gave permission to eat meat, and re-asserted it later in the NT.

At the same time, in many arguers, there is a secret wanting to see it the same way as you do yourself.  It’s about liking and trusting and feeling safe, to some extent.  I was thinking last night that if someone says ‘thank you’ and a Christian says in response ‘it’s a blessing’, what the Christian is really saying is ‘I like you’.  It’s/you’re a blessing = I like you (or any other ordinary affirmation and expression of positive feeling/perception).

God IS, and we are dependent on Him.  But we are also dependent on air, for example.  We just breathe, it is automatic.  We don’t keep the air in mind and keep bringing it up AS need and essential.  If we did, it would demonstrate insecurity and that perhaps our supply was somehow threatened or contaminated.  In ordinary everyday life we don’t make constant references to the air to facilitate breathing or ANYTHING.  Or to our own bodies.  We don’t need to.

I Know the BBC . . .

I wanted to record yesterday’s Newsround today, and it keeps coming back ‘content doesn’t seem to be working, try again later’.

Back in the UK now.  At Charing Cross last night there was rail staff and police staring at me, but making no approach.  Lots of people looked at me with disgust.  Inc staff on 2nd plane home.  Threw up after 4 or 5 mouthfuls of a vegetable biryani.  Had forgotten how HOT UK curries are.  All hot and not much else.  Threw up.  Gave what was left to a beggar on the street.  Plenty of people in UK like that kind of thing.

Sat with a(nother) homeless person on my way to Victoria.  Shared my food with him.  Rode a nightbus at his suggestion, thought it would be cheaper than getting a hotel room in London (4 times more expensive than Bulgaria), but by the end and the looks of disgust I was getting from dark, sophisticated painted girls I was wrecked.  I got off the buss at the end with a long haried man dressed very dramatically wearing an upside down cross on his belly, a blonde girl who was dressed to fit and was with him, who didn’t say much and seemed to be drunk, another young guy, not so dramatic, who seemed to be with them, a city cype blonde girl, and an absolute lookalike of Bruce Atkinson, who said – well, it doesn’t matter.  Afterwards I thought he might have been the same man who presented himself at the front during an appeal at KT and threw people into disarray.

Sport – she just said, ‘oh, it’s incredibly tight . . .’  aggressively contemptuous and mocking.  They are the hit and run of my tag.  They mark their pitch with verbal hits, and then run while I am still reeling.  But Many programmes do the same thing.  This lady is Gabby something.

James 2:4 “Judges with evil thoughts” (NIV)

It’s not them, it’s me.  If I retaliate I might believe or feel bad or that I am wrong, but I am not as bad as them, they are judges with evil thoughts, people who have no right to judge in the first place.

I thought.

Then I thought again.  If Jesus said “judge not, that ye be not judged”, if we say someone else is a judge with evil thoughts, don’t we become that ourselves?  Is it true that, every time we judge someone else and their actionbs, we ourselves are judges with evil thoughts?

I know the context of James 2:4 is about showing preferential treatment to the rich and well dressed, but is this something that should be limited by that context or understood more widely?

I Don’t Have To

I don’t have to do everything I feel like doing.  I don’t have to scream if I want to.  If I don’t scream my world won’t end, no one will suffer, in fact, I might be stronger and things might be better if I don’t scream.  I don’t have to let people know they are making me feel like that, then I can get on with and be open to people who DON’T make me feel like that.

It isn’t dishonest, it is a choice, like any other.

If I feel violent, for whatever reason, although it is a strong feeling, I don’t have to express it.  If I recognise that and don’t think it has to rule or can destroy me, or that angry, violent, controlling, demanding people can, if it remains unexpressed, it goes, and it was never mine in the first place.  It was a feeling that I felt, for some reason.  It isn’t me.  Anyone can be driven to feeling violent, but it doesn’t have to be expressed.  If I stop it, the feeling is gone within two or three seconds and I know it was nothing to do with me in the first place.

There are other things I can do with my day that are nicer for everyone.  And the harassers and those who feel entitled and who treat me violently can do as they like.

Edit note:  10 minutes later.  Men started shouting downstairs, it was OK, I didn’t feel threatened, and they didn’t sound threatening.  They were part of the background noise, and I became unaware.  As so often happens in this situation, the people above me banged in a way which felt targeted and violent and abusive.  They have just banged again now.  I could be just me misinterpreting it.  But yesterday they were banging and calling into my media and every pause in the radio recording, so I feel I have to listen with my headphones on now to maintain some sort of self-control when it happens.  Also they were turning heavy power tools on me, as they used to in my apartment in Plovdiv.  After reacting hysterically I told the hotel staff and asked them if they had any workmen and they said they didn’t.  But they also haven’t made any move to stop it after saying they would.  Last night they said they would deal with it ‘tomorrow’, and I insisted on the phone (they phoned me) that they deal with it then, and they said they would, but didn’t.  When I saw the same person later in the evening, about 10.30pm he said he had listened but hadn’t heard anything, and that there was no one there, and he put on a hard expression.  He has said that before and I know it isn’t true.  They make themselves sound, vocally, mot of the time, like nice and lovely people, above me.

I am in the Ricas Hotel in Sliven.  I’m on the 5th floor.  The people doing this, which is exactly like Plovdiv was, are directly above me on the 6th.  Putting this on my blog is easier for me, in every way, than trying to deal with the hotel staff and the authorities, and hopefully might be more effective.  I’m afraid to move.  It has me in such a state that if I try and go somewhere else presenting like this it will just create something bad there as well.  I hope someone will read this and help me.

Hallucinogenic Anxiety

I am now so much in fear and anticipation of someone speaking as soon as I make a sound I feel really inhibited, and when I forget, the dobre or whatever follows, even when the sound might indicate that I am obviously in pain and discomfort, as I am at the moment, feeling sick with severe diaphragmatic pains.  I have to think it is both aggressive and deceitful and ill-intentioned, the way it acts on me.

Over the last two days I have noticed that, lying in bed and trying to sleep the pain off, my mind cuts out sometimes and I begin to hallucinate.  It just goes, everything blanks out and what might be termed a ‘lucid dream’ takes over.  It only happens in bed, it hasn’t happened anywhere else yet, and I only expect it to happen when I am in a resting position.

You tell people there is a problem or ask what the problem is, and they make out they don’t know, even though they obviously do, so what is the point of trying to talk to anyone?  People hear what they want to and say what they want to and act how they want to, and believe they have a right to keep me outside, even if I ask.

Link here.  Why is this not showing, WordPress?  Censorship, harassment, terribly cynical of someone, inhumanly so.  Frightening.  What is the agenda here?

Edit note:  It’s been taken off the Christianity page as well, and it was definitely relevant.

Look, this is embarrassing for me and it should also be embarrassing for you.

It should be embarrassing for you because you say you stand for free speech, freedom, openness and open society – don’t you?  Those of us who are regularly censored know that is not the whole truth, if the truth at all.

It is embarrassing for me because I believe in open authority and politics.  Anything less says the populace is somehow inferior or not well enough informed and doesn’t have the same right to information.  It casts secrecy over things which should not be secret.  The ‘wrongdoer’ sometimes doesn’t know that is what they have been identified as, rightly or wrongly.  It allows one group to identify itself as right against another they identify as wrong, including in international politics.

It says that the person or people the various authorities identify as wrong are the whole cause of the problem and the authorities, and those who establish, employ and use them, are good and right-minded people, and also pure in word and action, or at least justifiable and ‘not guilty’.  People are criminalised just by the approach of the authorities to them, whether they know it or not, and whether or not they are actually criminal.

I believe in openness.  We are all as good and all as bad, we are all to blame and we all have the same rights and responsibilities.  Mistreated people are angry, and some angry people do harmful things.  Unequal relationships are a form of mistreatment.  Unequal vulnerability, unequal disclosure, people in authority or positions of influence who see themselves as being authority rather than serving in administration of what is appropriate to their job.

This is all old hat and I believe all right-minded people agree with me.  With me.  (I said it twice because I couldn’t decide which would communicate most effectively, bold or not bold).  Every day WordPress and other media still use language and material packaged together in a way that is relevant to me in constantly updated ways.  This creates a feeling of obligation and relationship which, I believe, is inappropriate to my actual situation, especially where nothing explicit, by way of committed communication, is ever entered into.  My neighbours know this too.  Hence the violence and harassment, even if it is inexcusable.  To have this kind of fluffy, feel-good, earnest or even comedic communication in the middle of a violent and undefined reality is not appropriate and not helpful.  It makes the problem worse.  Sometimes it isn’t comedic, sometimes I believe I know it is downright sinister.

So you are playing with my mind and reality.  Me, one individual who writes my blog.  The problem is, you do this in domestic and international politics as well, and your designated baddies know that, some of them are vulnerable and some of them are not, some of them have power and in their rage or confusion with this kind of communication can do catastrophic things.  I’ve written about Gadaffi before.  He is in the news at the moment.  I watched a film recommended by a friend, called Zeitgeist, which talked about the language used by the media and politicians around 9/11, and watching the news I’ve been observing the same thing here, at least with CNN, the channel I can get on my TV here.  It is an agreed, asserted view for presentation which is short of whole and little short of legitimised playground bullying and retaliation.  A club for fighting cats and dogs and gossip circles and sending to Coventry.  Ooh, nasty.  I have news broadcasts in mind.  We are all influenced against the love that we are by watching and listening to this.  Some of us are targeted to be influenced, as individuals and groups, and not just what we believe.

People say he is detached from reality.  I felt sorry for him, he looked confused.  Is he detached from reality?  He’s been made the baddy for years and years, and the media says he is detached from reality when he says all his people love him.  But I don’t believe that.  I believe all his people do love him, even if many of them oppose him.  I believe that love is the basis of all emotion and behaviour in every human being.  Most of us don’t understand that, we are not taught to.  The Bible says God is love and that we are made in His image.  Therefore love is also the foundation of our personalities, if not the whole of who we are (as it is for God, in whose image we are made), whether we realise it or not.  When that knowledge is undermined, not recognised about each other, or otherwise becomes emotionally and behaviourally perverted, that is the problem.  Yes, Gadaffi’s people all loved him.  Yes, they fought him (it is a psychological truism to say if you fight with someone you love them.  They have power with you somehow.  Somehow they matter to you.  All emotion, at root, is a manifestation of love, even if it manifests as guilty political manoeuvring and fear of loss of power and position or anything else, or of exposure.  Even if it manifests as anger or hatred or violence.  It is all a sign of our basic feeling and knowledge of connection).

I cried, a little, at what I saw on the television about Gadaffi last week.  I think presenting the news in that way, without the human angle and understanding and acknowledgment on the part of the controllers of communication of their own contribution to the awfulness, is in itself dangerous to society and inhuman.  It helps to make the poor despots what they are.  They are not playing for sympathy. They truly are worthy of our sympathy (they feel like we do, feelings which should not be put down as being out of touch with reality, and wrestle with issues as we do), and our own acknowledgment of how we have contributed to who they are, rather than helping them, through identification with them rather than setting ourselves apart or thinking ourselves better or wiser, to become something different.  Politics should be personal, right to the top and across nations and ideologies.  We need to be able to understand each other’s ideologies and converse and debate and argue with knowledge and respect.  We have to understand each other’s versions of reality so we don’t say someone has lost touch with reality when they don’t conform to our own idea of what reality is or should be.  The view that someone of a different culture and religion or ideology has lost touch with reality should never be put out through a news agency, even if only said in frustration.  It is my belief that this is often, if not always, just a manifestation of ignorance, of not knowing and not understanding, and not knowing how to set about finding out.  Or not caring, which, moralising as I sound here, must be worse.

Christian Life College, where I used to go, talked about two different sonship states.  One, we are sons of God by creation, and for some, we are sons of God by being born again.  That is how it was presented.

I would say that even if we believe in heaven and hell and that Christians go to heaven after death, we are all the children of God by creation at least, if that is what we believe, and if we believe that, we have to know that, on earth, we all have the same rights, whether we have the same religion or not, and an obligation to respect other people and make sure we recognise those rights in all our dealings with them. Including the right to intimacy and vulnerability, and openness and full disclosure, to expect it and to give it, both ways, in every relationship which involves power and authority.

The New Testament letters of the Bible, written to Christians, says honour all men (includes women and children), and that if you do not love your brother who you have seen, how can you love God who you have not seen?  We all share the creation sense of brotherhood.

So we need to be more open, when it comes to power and authority.  You choose your friends, but in your established authority and power relationships you have no choice, either party, unless the person in authority is able to lose and give up their authority and power and everything that goes with it.

That is far more than I wanted to say, but it is now said.  And that is why I for one don’t like my mind and conscience and emotions being played with by the removal of potentially sensitive posts, whether ostensibly for my protection, better criminal-catching, or any other reason, especially when the only direct communication I get from the same authorities is that which takes away from me.

Their behaviour is making me really anxious.  I think they are hacking my computer.

Apart from anything else, the violence, the show of being nice and good and saying dobre and hallelujah all the time, day and night, and violence worse than my last neighbours, if possible, I keep hearing a man up there nervously clearing his throat, and every time I do something a bit different – like today I did a search on how to grow citrus fruit, they react vocally, and this search got quite a delighted reaction.

As I said, I think they are hacking my computer.  So they will know the properties I have looked at and where.  I only thought, about 30 minutes ago, that it might not be just a bit of distressing stupidity, but they might be hacking (he just said dobre as if answering that and they began to react as soon as I started writing this.  Door slamming now) for someone, or even just for themselves, to establish and stalk and harass my future movements and relationships.  Now I think I have cause for concern.

I’ve told my landlord several times and he said he would talk to them and that they said they would try not to disturb me (it’s like having a stormtrooper as a carer, or a wild animal as my keeper), but yesterday I Skyped him and told him again what they were doing, the violence and everything, and didn’t ask, but demanded that I should be protected, in the property I was paying him for, from the people directly above it, who come with the property and over whom I have no choice.  That was yesterday morning.  Last night I had still not heard anything, and I don’t expect to, the way they have handled things so far.  He might even be in on it himself.

I’m looking at properties I really like.  I’ve even won 2 on ebay.  But if stalkers and computer hackers (he cleared his throat.  Most of the time now I try not to lose it completely because they start being violent and placing quite expert psychological attacks on my voice) and mafia, are going to attack and sabotage me everywhere, especially as I’m thinking of dealing commercially in food, that would put everyone at risk, I’m not sure if I can go ahead.  But I want to and insist on my right to do so without fear.

Mockery, cruelty, deception, violence, authorities who stand back and let them, possible savage attacks on future land and property.  I’ve just had some aural interjections which felt so evil I can’t complete this, it has confused my mind.

Edit note: They parrot and ghost my own voice right into my mind.  Normally if I try to retrieve emotional and psychological control of my own voice they ignore me or get violent, but I just reversed the sound being used and a man upstairs yelled as if offended or affected, as it affects me from them. What I hear in their voices I’ve started ending up with severe pains in my chest almost every day, my fear and outrage is so great.  They threatened to come on again just now.  I said in Bulgarian ‘your violence back on yourself, all of you’, and the pain started to dissolve and left, then I heard a woman’s sharp heals stamping on the stairs and they started to come back.  I don’t know how much of this stuff actually belongs together to affect me as it does.  They bang every time I go to the toilet or shower so I’ve noticed I’ve started going all day without a visit, and I’m too scared to move or open my mouth.

They seem to be reacting to something they feel spiritually when I am silent, all the time, when I relax.  I took 2 paracetamol and lay on my bed yesterday afternoon, sweating and immobile from the pain, and as soon as it seemed it was going completely, they banged on my ceiling.  I am sure the fact that they have to put a noise onto every one of mine, even my coughing and speech, has something to do with it.  I read a few months ago that Stalin was a satanist.  People talk about these things but say (legally and with authority to put you in a mental hospital) that you are crazy if you talk and act and reason as if they are true.

O . . .

(Public Health Warning: more mangled blood and guts, but also an attempt to address the issue of goading and chain-yanking, failed, unfortunately, on the whole, and I’m not the sort to incubate a post and try again.  I talk about the guy who got water thrown in his face by Spurgeon, I think, when he told Spurgeon he was perfect, and he got angry, which I think might have been the perfect reaction to Spurgeon’s mischief and therefore did not disprove his statement).

That is my open mouth, made silent with hysterical fear.

I’m living in Sofia now.  The woman above me screams hallelujah in the most hateful voice every time I feel I have a good communication and I can communicate it.

I want to scream for help and I can’t, it is that psychologically, emotionally and spiritually abusive.  I can’t express anything without feeling dishonest or that I am going to disintegrate or, if I am angry, be attacked, even physically.  She makes me feel she is my friend and I should ask her to forgive me and help me, whatever I feel she voices differently.  I said that because . . . well, if you read this blog, you know.  There is a man from whom the only vocalisation I hear is an angry or frightened throat-clearing.  That feels to me like part of the illusion, if it is an illusion, of their goodness.  If he spoke it might not persist.  But his vocal silence is also part of the oppression.

She is attacking my soul and spirit with razors and bludgeoning me with hatred which feels like a physical mallet to the head.

Combined with the banging . . .

So is this orchestrated, because it is happening everywhere I go.  Who is behind it?

The most torturous thing about this for me is the church’s dishonesty and use of these things.  Someone on Premier was talking about chain yanking this morning, and that is what she is doing and that is what Premier and the church have been doing for years – the way they have kept saying ‘crazy’, for instance, and pushing psychiatry.  This man said so this morning, he pointed it out himself.  What they have been doing is sadistic, cruel and abusive.  That must always have been obvious to them, surely, and if it hasn’t been . . . either way they are not fit to  hold ministerial duties of any description.

I don’t know if I’m imagining that when my recording was interrupted near the end this morning, John Pantry became annoyed because his attempt to build a bridge had been interrupted.  How would he have known, without illegal access to my computer?

Sometimes it feels like protection and I feel unworthy and shameful calling it criminal.  But it isn’t really.  It isn’t really protective.  They are keeping me imprisoned by their evasion of responsibility, procrastination, holding on to power, refusal to apologise officially, if not openly.

I don’t want a bridge back to the world where leaders are not first prepared to own their wrongdoing before I cross that bridge.  Own it where everyone can see, in a committed way. . .

One of the ministers involved, I think it was R T Kendall, but I’m not sure, told this story of someone who said to Spurgeon, I think, that he, the person speaking to Spurgeon, was perfect.  That he believed he was perfect.  Spurgeon (if it was him) said ‘oh, really?’ and threw a glass of water at him, and the man became angry, and everyone laughed at him.

The same chain-yanking.  That is hardly perfect, is it?

Now, was the man expressing imperfection to express anger in that situation?  Is anger a sign of imperfection?  But the Bible says Jesus was angry.  Our teachers have had it for ages that Jesus’ anger was different, that it was perfect and righteous anger.

It doesn’t say, though, that He ever pulled anything like this self-righteous, judgmental, proud, debasing, mischievous and malicious chain-yanking.  At least, not on true seekers and people who expressed something they thought they had grasped as a truth.

An exception comes to mind, possibly, in Mark 7.

Jesus Honors a Syrophoenician Woman’s Faith

24 Jesus left that place and went to the vicinity of Tyre.  He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. 25 In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an impure spirit came and fell at his feet. 26The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter.

27 “First let the children eat all they want,” he told her, “for it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

28 “Lord,” she replied, “even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

29 Then he told her, “For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter.”

30 She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

I’m not supposed to criticise this man, but what was he about here?  If he wasn’t being provocative, it could be put down to insensitivity because of tiredness, or some sort of irritation.  Our leaders say He was correcting her attitude.  But if it wasn’t that, if it was a lack of perfect response, where does that leave us in terms of my Friend Jesus’ perfection?  He;s my friend, I can’t talk about Him and theorise about Him like this.  But I just have, and for the usual reasons it has to remain.

But back to the perfect man who got angry when the person he told threw a glass of water at him.

In the Bible David said that God’s enemies were his enemies, and that he hated them with a perfect hatred.  I’ve heard it said that David did not have the complete revelation that we have today.  Would they say that of this occasion?  No, not all of them.  There would be different opinions backed up with chapter and verse and personal experience they felt was surrounded with the approval of those that matter to them.  I know for sure there would be some who agonised more over the truth than to be satisfied with that low standard of agreement, potentially low, at least, but I don’t know how many.

I got to this stage with St Barnabas’ Church.  They opposed me in every way, locking down on me and preaching at me.  I had read a book recommended by a Christian counsellor, on boundaries, which said that negative emotions were a sign that something was wrong.  I was going home, time after time, feeling devastated, and one night in bed I was frightened by a feeling of hatred.  I was also angry, I thought they were opposing what God was doing in my life.  I find that a bit embarrassing now.

But that was the verse which came to my mind, and I embraced it, because I couldn’t get rid of the feeling of hatred, so I actively justified it.  Hindsight says if I had done this or that . . . but nothing within me which is saying anything gets much chance to be heard at the moment, it is silenced by the violence around me, and as soon as I can strongly own and express anything from within, the harassment starts without and I am left too hysterical to cope.  I’m trying to argue something when I want to scream and beg and cry, since every time I feel I can and should surrender I refuse it.  I feel I should go up to them, apologise and ask what the problem is, then we could begin to sort everything out.  That is what I see and what I feel condemned by.  Her hallelujah makes me feel joy, but what about the rest?  It is chaos.  It is also illegal, and they know what I think of that.  It is the word I am reacting to, not the people or their activity.  I feel she even steals, with her occult violence, the tone of joy which would be in my own voice if I said it myself.  That must be where the confusion comes in.  I can’t validate this, it is so wrong.  I’m not the only one who hears them, and not everyone rejoices, I am sure.  I don’t want to be patronised by people saying poor Sue, come home.  I want people to focus on the issue of chain-yanking, and if I could focus on it myself it would help!  I try to be serious and have to be humorous.  Why?  I feel thumped in the head and I can’t cope with the pain.  There is no point waiting for a better time.  It never happens.  Don’t get bogged down in the circumstantial stuff that comes pouring out just because I don’t know how to edit it away. They seem to feel it when I calm down and start justifying them in my mind, and I hear them say dobre with a smile.  But I know what they are doing and it isn’t OK?  Or is it here?  Is this a valid and acceptable expression of Christianity here?  If it is, I’m out of step.  I feel as if I want to join in, like a party.  Go up and say hello and bubble along with them.

It’s a form of psychological harassment and censorship.  Who wants to read the silage that I insist on letting pour out of me, or allow by default, instead of being a normal, generous, kind, forgiving, friendly person and neighbour?

The point I was going to make was that I think there is something wrong with the theory and theology of leaders who can make a good and positive thing out of this incident of cruel chain-yanking in one of their traditions major heroes.

If that anger from the man came out of a damaged emotional place, it was incredibly cruel for him to expose it in that way.  Granted I don’t know the whole story, maybe it was just a bit of robust male joshing. I don’t know how the man took it after his anger was over.  But what if it wasn’t from a damaged emotional place?  What if it was the perfect reaction to such mischief and malice towards what he believed God had said to him?  Then who is the laughingstock?  If there should be one at all.  If our emotions are appropriate to the situation then they are perfect in that situation, aren’t they, so what he said wasn’t disproved at all.  In a sense we are perfect, and not just by imputation.  In a sense, as individuals, we are perfect, if people don’t interfere with us.  But they do, when we are too vulnerable to resist or realise.  I can’t do this, I’m tired and hurt.  I can’t think and write it through.  I’m mixing everything up all over the place when I started out believing I knew exactly what I wanted to say and where I wanted to go with it.  I’m already editing after first reading, and that isn’t doing me much good either.  I am ill and traumatised, I must be, to put this abortion out.

Another thing:  I believe this thing we call robust joshing is itself a manifestation and denial of pain.  Or is it just a healthy switching off every now and again?  It must be.  It must be me that is crazy.  So someone invite me to come and have some fun?  To live your whole life in the perfect therapy session and healing moment after healing moment, at least one participant has to be perfect.  And where have I got this idea from that therapy and healing is all about deep and querulous and earnest talk and tears and quietly and meditatively going about your business? ‘Tain’t, is it?

But what if, instead of throwing water over him and laughing at his anger, he had accepted the statement with respect and watched his friend over a period and tried to understand what he was saying and learn something instead?

It is thump in the back salvation.  I’m wondering if I am being a pathetic wimp if I object to that.  The people I have felt close enough to to love over recent years, and want to model myself on, I am thinking possibly I have only seen them awkward and afraid and desperate and making an effort, because of me and my situation.  Maybe they too are back thumpers and I have just not seen it, and I myself need to enter the real world of rough and tumble where people do not always treat each other with reverence and respect and it is OK.

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

OK that is it.  That is my communication after being butchered by upstairs and everything knowing my account/computer is being hacked is doing to me, turned into a bucket of unmentionable stuff and screaming.

Enjoy!

After Cain killed Abel and God asked him where he was, Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?”

I feel as if my upstairs neighbours are my keepers.  Or that they see me as an animal in captivity for observation and experimentation, or as a subject of some form of pest control.

Until a few years ago I was never one for talking about vibes and energy, but now it is unavoidable.  Every time my mind goes into recreative and positive relaxation a sound from them is imposed on it, usually vocal, normally sounding, today, like ‘dobre’, though it could be ‘hallelujah’ or banging.  Throughout the day, all day, every day.  I feel it as ‘don’t you dare’.  Every movement I make they put a sound or comment on top.  She screams like a demon when I come and go.  They do tapping stuff.  She goes from sweet to hate in a second, unless there is another woman there.  My mind can’t cope with it.

Also I have people turning up and ringing my doorbell and when I answer there is no one there.

Every time I become animated within myself and feel I can express myself in a way I like, their voice imposes itself, and I am here like a guilty and frightened thing, desperate and constantly seeing my own expressive life being killed by what can only be called aggressive psychic interference.

I sneezed a few minutes ago.  Sneezing, when my mind feels so bound, feels cleansing, and I like the recovery period, the seconds afterwards.  But as soon as I finished sneezing one of them said ‘dobre’.  I take hold of what I am writing now and give it a mental affirmation as it presents itself, and they speak uncomfortably and as if objecting.  It frightens the life out of me.  That phrase has a whole new meaning for me these days.

I went to the toilet and as I came out one of them said ‘dobre’.  I don’t want not to get on with them but they are making it impossible.

They still bang at me when they hear me in the bathroom.  They stir and bang about uncomfortably or deliberately every time sleep becomes restorative or pleasurable or exultant for me.  If I think about it, it is as if they are dragging me around by the hair.

I went to a pizza restaurant yesterday, and there is a children’s play area right in front of it.  Three girls dressed in yellow stopped and stared at me and I thought about the paedophile rumour.  I sat down and a few minutes later one of them shouted out ‘zestoki’ (cruel), which is something I have been heard to shout at my neighbours.  I don’t know where they got that from.  I felt mentally assaulted and raped.  A bit later the children started screaming, really soul-piercing screams I felt invaded by, and a few seconds later a security guard appeared using a mobile phone, and he stared at me.  I’ve been here a long time.  I wondered if something he had done had been responsible for the screaming and the way it made me feel.  I’ve been harassed by security guards for ages now, sometimes mockingly and exultantly.

I had a couple of women come in and act strangely close to me.  One of them was eyeing me with narrow slit eyes, like an animal ready to pounce, and I was blank, I didn’t smile because my mind was preoccupied.   Then she went into a wonderful awesome sociable switched on beauty routine.  The clearest face, the most beautiful, fluttering almond eyes.  Face held up to her man.  I resented it, it seemed theatrical and aggressive.  I noticed she had a child with her, a girl of about 8 or 10 who seemed to be a bit ill-behaved, I can’t quite remember how.  I looked and thought, ‘like mother, like daughter’.   But as I kept looking I realised the girl was uncomfortable and wanted attention that she was being denied, and she kept trying to get it, then she looked bored and wandered off.  And I thought, ‘poor kid, having a mother like that’.

That was when my scepticism and my ‘I don’t believe this’ response kicked in, and I decided to have a good, doubting, examining look at the whole act.  Shortly afterwards they got up and left, but as they walked away it looked almost as if she deliberately divested herself of a character.  Afterwards it seemed to me that the whole atmosphere in the restaurant was changed.  I had felt before that people seemed so happy and relaxed, but afterwards everyone was awkward and trying to recover comfortable and natural behaviour.  I would call it vamping, but she seemed to be presenting herself as one of God’s and nature’s beauties, dominant in her way and empty-headed.

I feel as if I am being malicious now, but I’m not.  I’ve had women doing this around me a lot when I go out, and I don’t know why.  Every time I get a moment of mental light and start thinking about what I am writing or examining it, the voice I find frightening from the woman upstairs when I am trying to write imposes itself and it is like an electric shock saying, ‘thou shalt not’, or ‘I don’t want you to’.

Thinking about it it reminds me that I have betrayed my own intentions and that I came here for the country and the people, not to be separate on a computer all the time.  But it feels like my refuge from their madness and invasiveness, as well as a chain in itself, and they won’t let me have that refuge.  The feeling that I can go to them and be friendly and that it will be welcome imposes itself, or is imposed on me, at the most psychologically inconvenient and resented and rebelled against times.  They have tied me up in knots, these changelings, and left me feeling guilty for not wanting to be available when I think I realise they want me to be.

They still comment when I cough, they still comment when they hear my computer and, if it is songs, at the change of every track.  They bang when I shit and comment when I fart or belch.

Jesus, does anyone understand this and how it makes me feel?  I was going to say, ‘how I feel about it’, because pop psychology in recent years has said that nothing can make you feel something, you feel it for your own reasons.  As I wrote it the man’s voice came in sharp and aggressive, like a knife into my mind, and now I can’t rework or work with anything.  When she opens her mouth it is as if she is piercing the air demanding power or recognition.  It often happens when possibilities and connections open up in my mind that I begin to feel happy and positive about.  So to me she seems to be saying, continually, ‘you owe me’.

One of Shakespeare’s characters ends a play saying, “the world is a stage and we are its actors”.  I was tagging this and thinking about the theatre aspect and watching and being watched, and that that approach to life runs counter, it seems to me, to the approach of the spirituality I have valued that emphasises unselfconsciousness.  I felt it when people started telling us to be vigilant about terrorism threats after 9/11.  Maybe that is my problem and misunderstanding.  If you are educated in the warning signals maybe you don’t go around with the terrorist attack threat constantly in your mind and even when the thought can’t be found, if the right things present themselves you become aware there might be a cause for concern.  To me, life is not for going around being consciously vigilant.

Bulgaria

If the way these people have treated me is typical, they and their country should self-destruct, and I hope to see it in my lifetime.

I was writing an email to a solicitor just now, in the cross over between Robert Elms and Danny Baker, and they were doing a slapstick routine, and appeared to be commenting on or anticipating what I was going to write.  I got confused and upset trying to communicate, and in my email I wrote them a little message, “you are savage, radio”.  Straight afterwards his voice became tearful and he talked about slapstick, which was what he had been doing, with my neighbour situation and with my email.  I’ve had violent harassment from them all afternoon, and while I’ve had the radio on they tap at psychologically significant points, and the stalkers on the radio are making it worse.  Danny Baker, you bloody bastard.  ‘Bloody’ literally.  17.45 pm.  He just said ‘my mind’ to sound like ‘Marmite’.  I get so distressed I want to wet myself, and sometimes I have.  They keep tapping and she keeps piping hallelujah.  They refuse to stop, tapping and hallelujah-ing at MY radio.  That is violent, occult harassment.  They are all as bad.  Listen to the violent tones on these men.  Eddie Nestor has just come on.  Banging a drum?  I don’t NEED a drum banging.  I need the criminal harassment and stalking and mental torture to stop and my hiding, cowardly, dishonest authorities to help me.  The man upstairs keeps going to the toilet and it always feels deliberate and sometimes I feel as if he is pissing into my mouth.  He just said ‘wee’ in a pointed way, on the radio.  This is gross, and I don’t believe it is just my mind.  Fiona with the travel (17.15) has just said ‘first with the rose’ instead of roads.  ‘Rose’ is a euphemism for urine.  I wrote the time wrong, Bulgarian.  Eddie Nestor just made a point of saying ‘nay’ Bulgarian for no, and talked about ‘around the world’.  I can’t appear right in this, even if I am.  I think they are trying to get me back in hospital.  I want to wet myself.  I don’t want to go to the toilet, I want to wet myself.

Chris in Crouch End is a Christian.  He just used her to say to me, ‘stop dressing inappropriately and you won’t be attacked’.  Whatever he meant to convey by it, he did use her for that.  And he just said Dr Paranisi to be heard as paranoid.  Talking about infertility.

I want to wet myself because I am scared and I can’t take this, and I know for certain that no one is going to acknowledge the truth about this.  I dread having to live with this for the rest of my non-suicide-terminated life.

Look at this.

Punch Drunk

I’m hurt, I’m punch drunk.  Every day, people shouting, banging, barking and vomiting noise.  I always feel bad about leaving a bad situation, because my church leaders have historically said that if you can’t be a Christian where you are, you can’t be a Christian anywhere.  I’m not sure how that works when you feel as if you are being torn apart and having your throat savaged by packs of human dogs.  What does it mean then, to be a Christian where you are in that situation?  People have said to me before, in different situations, that I don’t have to stay, but in light of the previous statement that has felt like a taunt, or at least a contradiction.

I’m in a hotel.  There are men shouting like savages on a football pitch, angrily, defiantly, power-grabbingly.  This is Plovdiv.  As far as I am concerned, these people are angry and still murderous.  I feel sick.  I really can’t cope any more.  It’s satanic, it’s disgusting, and for all the support I have in my community, both here and in London, I might as well be homeless.  I’m not, but I might as well be, because the police don’t care.  I feel really sick.  These people, men and women, puncture the air with shouts and banging, even at illegal times, and if you challenge them they are all smooth, sometimes, as if they are happy to accommodate my requirement that they revert to acting legally, or as if they are not wrong in the first place.  I feel sick with fear and desperation, and as for the church . . . visit www.christiancentre.org and listen to the Sunday morning, Easter morning sermon, Laurence James-Davis, listen to him shouting, catch the moment of guilty registering in his voice a little later on apparently, to me, knowing he is all noise and no substance, that his shouting is not appropriate, but still he continues.  That is what these people are like here.  Is this the kind of Christianity they have swallowed and are acting out against me?  Dominionism.  Make some noise.  I read in a Christian book, David Wilkerson, I think, that empty cans make the most noise.  These people’s noise, and the way it savages my consciousness, deliberately, sometimes, I am absolutely sure, is literally sickening.

I bought some new clothes last week.  A pack of dogs – sorry, men – passed me and called me a slut.

I went to the police with the violent harassment thing with my neighbours, and they said something about immoral woman and prostitute and told me to leave the station, suggesting by their attitude that they might treat me roughly if I didn’t comply.  Every time I think and get quiet to express myself, these men shout into the air.  This is the most externalised spiritual battle I have ever been part of.  They bark into the air, going straight for my throat, and seem to think it is reasonable.  If you challenge them they laugh or treat you like an idiot.

I can’t cope.  I feel emotionally and mentally raped.  I really can’t cope.  I have no safe place to go.  Even the church is full of defiant and evasive liars shouting from the platforms.  Colin Dye talked about Judas on Sunday (or was it the Chinese guy at 2.30?) and talked about his betrayal and suicide, as if the two belonged together.  That is old pentecostal teaching, and I have swallowed it.  I believe it is right and reasonable, and that to see suicide in any other light is dishonest.  I think if you dissect it finely enough and examine it under a strong enough microscope you can’t honestly come to any other conclusion.

So is there no level of pain or abandonment or isolation that can justify feelings of wanting to die?  Are all such feelings evidence that, somehow, at some level, you are or have been treacherous in some way?  Even if you have been, if you have sadistic, dishonest rub your nose in it people dealing with you, how are you supposed to feel?  They give you no way back to life.  They themselves are wrong, but they insist you take your place in life again on their terms.

These men and their shouting is making me feel violent and desperate.  They are real madhouse material.  I think they are stupid and dangerous and should be taken off the streets.  I think it shows that I feel somehow responsible for them, that I feel this way.  But they are gross and I’m a woman.  The way their behaviour collides with my mind and feelings is completely terrifying me, in my situation as it is.  They are grossly defiant.  Every utterance of theirs is an insistence that it is OK.  There is nothing in their minds that is recognisable to me as being in any way decent.

New readers take note, some of these people are named on my blog, most are not, in most cases because I don’t know them.  And when I say ‘imaginary friends’, some of them are friends in both my imagination and their own, and most of them are friends only in their own imaginations.  And obviously, throughout this communication, ‘friend’ can be substituted with ‘enemy’.

Or, to all stalkers and computer hackers everywhere.

(Shall I do it Kafkaesque? I think this is Kafkaesque, but I’m not sure).

They always say that, you know.  It wasn’t my fault.  I didn’t want to do it. They made me.  I had to do it to keep my job.  I was just obeying orders.  Yes, I knew people were real people, yes, I knew I was contributing to suffering and in some cases, most cases, authorising or executing people’s deaths.  I became a really cruel person to cope with that.  I couldn’t handle my conscience in the job any other way.  They disgust me, these people.  I, I, I.  I did it because this and I had to be this and that to handle it, but I never really wanted to.  It was my upbringing, at the time I had no choice.  Of course I’m sorry for the people I made suffer and killed, but I had no choice.  It was my job, you see. I was under orders.  I was under orders.  I had to obey orders.  I had a family to feed.  I had to keep my job.

No, it isn’t Kafkaesque, I thought it could have been, I thought I could do it, I felt in the ‘zone’, but . . .

My neighbours have just started up, hmm-ing and banging.  They know when my alarm goes off in the morning now.  I don’t normally use one, I haven’t used one for years, but I decided I wanted to set a time to be woken up or to mark the desired time of my latest waking, so that I would be setting the terms of my own waking, in the hope that being woken up by violence would stop.  But they know what time it goes off now.  When I came back from the police, at around the time my alarm had previously been set to go off (it was early, about 5.30.  I decided to let them have a wake up call on their own dirty terms, by day three she was screaming at me to shut up.  Can’t understand.  They have been at me relentlessly and mercilessly for ten weeks, in every private place and with more injurious means) a sound like a loud siren went through the whole building.  Retaliation. I don’t know what they were expecting.  I lay there in shocked silence, maybe angry, I can’t remember.  Probably defiant, but I can’t remember.  Possibly not defiant.  I had already changed my alarm to go off at a far more decent time, 8.15.  (If you want to know what my neighbours are doing as I write this, read yesterday’s ‘Odd Thoughts’ entry.  I won’t rehash old stuff again today).  When it went off at 8.15 they commented, souded disgruntled for some reason, but I don’t know why.

They try to pass themselves off as sweet, playful children.  Or she does, anyway.

Anyway, yesterday they made a noise over my bed just before the alarm went off.  Today they did the same thing.  I can’t remember how it went exactly, the order or anything.  I think a noise just before it went off.  It went off and I let it run out.  On purpose.  I didn’t switch it straight off.  Normally I would have done, like a nervous, obedient by training servant or something.  It ran out, and it went off again.  They seemed a bit annoyed.  I felt I had a point to make about whose home this is.  Anyway, as soon as it stopped, she imitated the sound of its buzzing, then tapped, then ran her tongue off, but not at me, almost as if I wasn’t there.  I don’t know if it is my own shock and grossed-outness and failure of resources to handle such grossly outrageous behaviour (is it outrageous by Bulgarian standards?  I still don’t know.  The days of the People’s Court are not that long gone.  I wonder how much it has been left behind in their thinking and practice, whatever their written laws say.  if my experience is anything to go by, it has not been left that far behind with a lot of people, even hallelujah-touters.  I say touters.  There is no guarantee that they are Christians just because they say hallelujah.  Some things, I believe, are not a matter of Christian education).  But back to my pre-bracket sentence.  Maybe it is my state of shock which causes the coincidence between my thoughts freeing up or creativity beginning to flow or separating from them in anyway, and the violently invasive and or ugly interjections which hit/meet those times.  My change has no intention.  It doesn’t happen by intention.  It might come out of a process of thinking, that I decide I am free to pursue my day apart from their terms and I begin to plan it, but most times I don’t even get that far.  All of this is silent.  But their actions are intentional.  They speak, loudly over my air, like a spiritual pronouncement, and I am sure it is intentionally. . . . it’s too weird to explain.  Or they bang.  If I cough natually and unguardedly, they bang.  They did this morning.  It is obvious which comes first in that situation.  But which comes first and what causes what when I am silent and they are noisy?  Are these wrong questions to ask?  Are these questions in themselves the nature of occultism?  Am I wrong to be concerned with these questions?  (Reminder to myself, mental illness, stalking, harassment and occult.  The bit below my blog title.  That is the reason for my questions.  It is not because I am proud or relationally inadequate.)

So here I am, I’ve been whipped and dragged a merry dance again.  I don’t know why I write it all down, it feels like the only way.   I want to go to the toilet but am afraid.  I want to shit, and they start saying dobre and hallelujah.  Every time.  Or banging.  I’ve always believed (she just ejaculated ‘dobre’ as I typed my bold italics.  See yesterday Odd Thoughts. But then see the rest of today’s post and know I haven’t a clue.  Before that he was purring prayer-ministry- type ‘hmm’ agreements.  They are stamping their territory today, still refusing to go to the police) that kind of thing is indecent.  Are they trying to force me out with indecent and violent invasion of privacy?  It looks that way.  I say I’ve always believed, but that isn’t really true.  It has never come up before for me to have an opinion about it one way or another, not even in my basement flat in london, really.  I should just stop writing instead of letting it take over my posts.  I don’t know why I don’t.  Probably a combination of exorcism, appeasement, stubbornness, fear and blind panic.  Outrage.

So, if I can retrieve something of my original intention.  What I was going to say was, to my stalkers, my imaginary friends and enemies, known and unknown, media, church, government and ‘other’ . . . .  I know . . . nothing.  She aims at my throat, and I know nothing.

So I’ll ask a question instead, which I intended to ask anyway.

OK, I can hear you stalking me.  You say you like me.  You say this is good, and that is good, but you’re not sure about this, and we need to back off and be careful, etc., etc.

But like, you like me, yeah?  From your stalking of me, that is the impression you have of your feelings about me.  That feels good to you.  You trust your own judgment, and you are happy because you believe I am worth stalking, because you end up believing good about me, and that makes you happy, and that feeds into your output in your programmes, or you can weave it into your sermons or policies or other presentations.

But what about how I feel, and what it does to me?

You are like expectant parents, cooing and taling over a baby in the womb.

But . . .

If you invaded that baby’s person and environment, as you do mine, for the same kinds of assessment and analysis and judgment, what kind of monster or creature do you think might survive to emerge?  Someone being stalked without their knowledge, or without proper acknowledgment of the fact when they realise, has no more resources to cope than a growing foetus, and no more chance of survival.  How, in your thinking, have you managed to change a person’s status from being a victim of your injustice and kidnap, effectively, into that of someone who should respond with gratitude and humility to your recognition (true or false) that they are and have a gift, and your terms of operation or utilisation?

We don’t do answers on a postcard these days, do we?  I was just thinking of the person who said that (Cindy Kent) and her part in this.  I could have expressed it very acceptably and decently and reasonably, but that foul, occult hallelujah indecently harassing criminal demon-child of a woman upstairs just made a verbal snatch for my thought.  That is what she always does.  They are always telling me I have no right.  Whatever I do.  How grossly entitled can some people feel and believe themselves to be?  I challenged her and she giggled.  That is gross in itself, given the ugliness and criminality she operates in most of the time.

If I don’t get this out, you will play with me until I do.  But you will anyway, and make me feel disgusting and guilty or disempowered and vulnerable, whichever fits.

See it here.

When I was in my teens I used to like to wear maxi dresses, especially to church.  I felt good in them.  We weren’t allowed to wear trousers and I didn’t feel comfortable in shorter dresses, I felt self-conscious.  Maureen Shearman, Andrew Shearman’s wife, brother of David, sat opposite me at the lunch table in church one day and had a conversation which didn’t include me with someone else next to her, about how maxi dresses were a way of attracting attention to yourself, and that was seen as a negative thing in my church.  Pride and vanity.  I was a fat teenager not allowed to wear trousers in church.  The right words to describe how I felt feel ridiculous because of the present harassment.  Self-conscious, mortified.  They don’t feel ridiculous, they feel not mine, so not helpful.  They should be mine. Alongside everything else these neighbours are stealing from me.  I’m terrified of them, they are so grossly indecent in their insistence on making me believe they are right, whether they believe it or not.  Especially the men.  I need the affection of kind men.  I think they are playing on that fact to continue their control.  I didn’t mean to write about them, I never do.  Through making me feel I can’t continue with what I do intend to write about, they insinuate themselves into everything.  Perhaps I should start using another colour for the terrified and desperate and angry material they provoke, then people can skip it if they want to.

The dress Kylie Minogue is wearing in this picture is reminiscent of the long nightie I borrowed from my grandmother (I’m not going to say what we actually called her because when I did when I was small I was put down for it by another child) to go on Summer camp to Southsea and Portsmouth, while my dad was still alive and I was in the C of E at that time, I think.  The staff were called after the Wombles, if I remember rightly.  Maybe I’ve got that wrong, I think we had a Great Uncle Bulgaria,  but I can barely remember that part of it.

I wore a much nicer and more stylish dress, I think, sleeker and not frilly, to take Ray and Jill for dinner at the Nottingham Savoy.  I was really upset because I think I had booked for the main restaurant and a proper dinner, 3 course, 5 course, something like that (when I remember, engage in memory, the people upstairs start getting uncomfortable, clearing their throats, making noises.  I just want to shut them out and it disturbs me deeply, it frightens me that it happens, and I resent it.  I am convinced it is the nature of their own harassment that makes it possible.  They are stealing me from myself, and I can’t initiate facing and confronting the serious issues in my life feeling this way, because I know what a hash other people, left to themselves, have already made of them, and me.  I need myself and my memory and my perception, in my own free space.  Why?  Because if I have to face a trial I want to be able to stand up for myself or at least represent myself accurately, and if I [they are getting more aggressive and banging] have to go to prison I want at least to be able to survive.  If I go in pulped already I won’t be able to.  I’m not afraid of prison.  I’m afraid of what might happen to me if I go in already pulped.  The same applies over the eviction issue, if I’m not allowed to remember and people think they understand better than I do, I might lose my home or retain it on terms I can’t handle, and I’d like to deal with it efficiently up front because I don’t have the money to be able to afford trial and error), and I think we lost it because I was late.  We had to make do with the grill.  (I can’t even experience the healing of my own memories with these people.  My grandmother would have called some of their verbal output shit with sugar on, and my grandmother was a very capable person, she kept things running, until she fell and broke her hip, and even then she did outwork for a local medical company, for very little money, and was always pushed for time and exhausted and upset and harassed, as well as being uncomfortable and in pain.  She worked all day and only stopped to sleep and eat.  She was afraid of hospitals and never got her hip fixed, she refused and no one forced her.  Forced her?  You can tell where I have been.  My neighbours are indecent, imposing themselves on my consciousness as they do, 24/7). 

Anyway, back to the point.  I mentioned Kylie Minogue and her toilet references in my Scritti Politti post 2 or 3 days ago.  Now she appears hunched over looking shame-faced and hiding behind big sunglasses and wearing my grandmother’s nightie to go out in (both the nightie and the dress I have mentioned were the same colour), and I’m wondering why people are using such subterfuge to try to communicate with me and don’t just use direct contact, as they are able.  They ARE able, they can comment on my blog, they can use my email address.  This isn’t fair.  These people, even my family and other past relationships, are being indecently cowardly and harassing in all this.  They should make proper contact, and they know it.  I am living underneath people who are terrifying the life out of me with the deliberateness of their harassment and the depth of the men’s cowardice (or opportunism?) in particular, in harassing a foreign woman and not going to the police, and everyone who knows me or used to know me is just as bad with their coded presentations.  When are you going to see fit to stop and make proper explicit contact about the things you want to make contact about?  Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?  You don’t, do you?  You don’t even care.  You are as bad as my present neighbours and are enabling them in every way. You’ve never cared, throwing in your verbals and pictures from a distance, knowing how to contact me and never doing it.  How can I, feeling so beaten up and dazed from abuse, and frightened when I go out because mentally I’m all over the place with constant flash backs of police and other authorities despising me and not daring to go to them, believe that any of you care?   You care enough for tears and guilt and uncomfortable expressions, but not enough to come close and help.  I need practical, legal help, not psychological and emotional rehabilitation from the people who have been responsible in the first place.  What I am experiencing with these people will continue unchallenged, here and everywhere else, until you people stop your own cowardice and make it stop.

Edit note 7.54pm UK time.  I just added the tag ‘Violence Against Women’.  Apparently it still appears under all the other tags, but it isn’t appearing under this one.  I don’t understand why not.  I tagged it about 5 or 10 minutes ago.  Maybe it’s another instance of WordPress psychological violence against me.  They have been stalking me for ages with bait and switch, a couple of sweet and materially relevant Freshly Pressed posts followed by something psychologically violent straight after, like some form of aversion technique.  AOL does the same thing on its ‘Today’ page.  My browser crashed after I started this note.  When I came back online I was taken back to the Violence Against Women tag page, and before the first post an advert had appeared for hosting your own blog, through WordPress.  I don’t know how that works, if I still have access to the tags page on the main site.  At the bottom of my post an advert had appeared for Pop Pressed and its featured ‘Win-Win’.  If I have a mental health diagnosis which people like these have been exploiting for years to continue in what they have been doing, it would be completely irresponsible of me, and puerile of them, to want to allow a ‘win-win’ situation.   End of edit note.  My blog could disappear any moment.

10.09 pm UK time update:  I just added the tag ‘Fashion’, which I thought was already there, but although it says on that page that it has just been posted, it doesn’t appear.  Unless the tagging system has changed and now too many don’t go through but the ones before do, it appears to be ‘some sort of’ censorship and selection.  This could be something to do with the personalities involved, because when I looked under the Jools Holland page for a previous post after my Scritti Politti post a few days ago, I discovered the one I posted a few months ago was no longer listed.  I think they are trying to make me feel like a naughty little girl who doesn’t automatically have the same publication rights as everyone else.  When I got half way through that last sentence I got a notice saying IE needed to close.  It felt like a message saying, ‘no, that’s not it, don’t post this’.  So is it hands on or do I have a virus, vocabulary activated or something?  Is it protective or harassing, should it be seen as legal or illegal?  I believe it should be seen as illegal.  It is deep manipulation if this is a targeted thing.

Green Gartside, to be exact.  But my ears pricked up as soon as I heard ‘Scritti Politti’, because when I was at the Polytechnic of North London (now London Metropolitan University, I think) studying English, I was in a class with a lecturer called Pat Jackson (so we must have been studying pluralism as critical method.  I think we had to go for another than our main option, in the final year) and she told us she had heard a song which she thought was rubbish, but when she realised it was Scritti Politti she understood how intelligent it was and it made sense to her, or something like that, because the songwriter, or one of the songwriters, in the band had been one of her students.

I can’t remember who it was, if she mentioned his name.  I just did a Wikipedia search and it says they were in Camden but there is no mention of the Polytechnic of North London.  I didn’t look at the biographies of all the band members, only two.  They mention another Polytechnic up North and Art College or something.  I wonder if they have disowned PNL.

I might not have listened if the Jools Holland television programme wasn’t being advertised on the BBC TV iplayer site.  I haven’t listened for the past few weeks, even though I have meant to.  But there is a main feature advert, so my listening can hardly be called coincidence.

How exposed do I want to feel?  It is hard, when everytime I try to look at something that would make me vulnerable to say, lady sheepy upstairs opens her throat and utters.  It must be something to do with the violence, that they are able to do that.  The hysteria I feel at the invasion takes away my ownership of what I want to say.  And for me that feels mentally and psychologically dangerous.  These people are demons feeding on my human blood, sticking their fangs into my emotionally open and meditative throat.  Keeping it open by their constant, doglike behaviour.

As I was saying, how exposed do I want to feel?  The Wikipedia article says Green Gartside has worked with Kylie Minogue.  Kylie Minogue was on Jools Holland’s New Year Hootnanny programme.  Among other things they were doing their usual toilet stuff, and in her mix which made it obvious Kylie used the word I used to use as a child for faeces, ‘a-a’ (said like the first syllable of ‘apple’ twice), and she performed an appropriate body movement while leaning on the piano.  There was more in that programme, but I didn’t get to record it for some reason I can’t remember.  But where did she get it from, because she definitely had it and used it.

I’m looking at my ‘free speech’ tag and feeling guilty about exposing this, because I told Tommy Boyd he could do anything he wanted with anything I gave him.  But I didn’t mean make a show out of it for years, while I am still living under people who are psychically going for my tongue and leaving me struggling to breathe.  They just banged again, just now.  Three sharp bangs.  They do that when they feel a change in energy or something.  Since they do it when sleep approaches, every time, that is the only explanation I can find for it.  So understand something of my complete fear and desperation.  When I lose it I shout a them to shut up.  I just did, and one of them rapped again and another went and peed.  This is a regular pattern.  I’m beginning to get used to it and see it as normal and not gross, and feel as if these people could possibly be friends.  There is something wrong with my mind,. isn’t there?  I’m bombarded with it all the time, from the media and everywhere.  There is no refuge.  Is this brainwashing?  Indecently intimidating brainwashing and dumbing down, or what?  They shut their doors at me when I go in and out, but do all this to me over my flat.  I began to dream about how I wanted relationships in my new home to be, when I get it, and they did it then as well.  They are holding me hostage.  I’m in Plovdiv.  It might be stupid to give my exact address.  My leaders know.  Knowing this, and that they are leaving me here, or trying to woo me, makes me feel as sick as being here with these gross human beings, whom to call dogs might make me a target for the RSPCA for cruelty to the real thing.

All of my stalkers and blog readers are pawing over me affecting intimacy and the right to identify and instruct, and not one of them is making proper committed contact.  Is it any wonder I can’t cope with life?

I just got up.  I went to the toilet.  My upstairs neighbours started fluttering over me and expressing signs of distress – because I’m going to the toilet?  Next thing I know, I’m thinking about what I want to say about it on my blog and am trying to approach it kindly, when savage voice zhena (woman) cries out again, straight into my head.

This is constant, I need it to stop.  My eviction procedure has gone into its second stage and so far I have not felt able to touch it – because I just can’t think straight.  So I’m naming names.  Nick Clegg, you lovely boy, don’t just bang about on your podium, imitating, as you think, the banging from my neighbours (assuming that you have read my blog and that was what you were doing yesterday).  Do something!  I emailed you, and you didn’t reply.  Now DO something other than a dramatic presnentation in parliament.  Contact me properly.  Please.  If that is appropriate and not taking what is properly a legal issue and making it a party political issue.

And while I am on the subject of parliament, for the past two days it has been impossible to watch it live streamed on the internet.  What is going on?  I suppose I can safely assume that I am not important enough for it to have anything to do with me.

I’ve sent Joan Ruddock, my MP, all the emails connected with my eviction and asked for replies.  I have received none.  I did this at the beginning, over a month ago.  From something that was said, by her, I think, it appears she is on strike over me until she gets the gratitude she believes she is entitled to, as if I have to prove myself to her.  The first time I went to see her she wouldn’t let me talk and all but threw me out of her surgery.  She stood up to dismiss me in a way which made me feel that if I didn’t go, the next step would be calling the police.  I have mixed feelings about her, I think she has tried to be nice, and I’m really upset about this. 

I was thinking about how I wanted to word that last sentence to most accurately express my feelings and say what I wanted to say, when my neighbours upstairs banged, leaving me with so great a feeling of desperation and outrage and enormity I didn’t know what to do.  Whatever words I had, or connection with the feelings I wanted, they went, as always. I continue to assert it is their awful mix of hallelujahs and violence and personal invasiveness which is causing this.  I say this kind of constant occurence is the result of their witchcraft.  I’m terrified.  I feel raped in my soul.  I feel as if I can’t speak without speaking to them.  I am effectively their hostage.  Or am I just hostage to my resentment and fear of all the prejudice and discrimination I face here continually, because of the way I am dressed and the way I look?  Security people in supermarkets relax when they see me get my money out, and I think that is gross.  Where before they have marched me and commanded me as if I am beneath them.  But I get my money out and suddenly I am not.  I was in Sofia a few weeks ago.  I wanted to be taken to a hotel in a taxi, and several drivers rudely and aggressively refused.

Do you remember, did you watch, the western, years ago, where someone took revenge on a man by slowly spit roasting him?  Later they came back to him, or someone else did, and the man was all but dead, and he said ‘kill me, please kill me’?  He was handed a gun, and he shot himself in the head.

I was looking at Owen Thomas again this evening, he seems to have been presenting the news all weekend.  I heard what was coming out of his mouth, this man with the presentation of an angel, and it was completely obscene.

There was a man with a BBC tee shirt living next to me.  People used to use my music a lot.  One of the songs I played was a Larry Norman song which had the line ‘with the face of an angel and the heart of a beast’.  It seems to me they have taken sadistic pleasure in populating the media with people like that.

I want to die.  I’ve got nothing left to live for.  Everywhere I go I run into demon-possessed, subhuman, rapacious dogs and killers.  They have killed me.  They have murdered me.  Christians and non-Christians alike.  I wish I had never bothered with any of them.  Some friends these people have turned out to be.  Give me a year, then bugger off, then never make committed contact again.  Even block me twice on their Youtube account.  Leaving me to these harassing, raging, banging, howling dogs that the whole world seems to be peopled with.

And the more distress and pain I express, the more all of them, including Christians, sadistically pump out sweetness and light.  Leaving me feeling like a crying, huddled up wreck blubbering in a corner.

There is no God, they have killed Him.  I might as well die too.  These people, especially the most angelic looking and sounding, are aggressively satanic and hateful.  They have already killed me.  They will not be challenged.  Anyone who challenges them will be open to question themselves, and I can’t see that anyone is willing to be in that position.

I am being eaten alive by spiritual and psychological, open-throated, animal-like, savage cannibals.  I feel I have no existence worth holding on to.  That’s what the bible says: ‘their throats are open sepulchres’.

‘How much do you think you are worth, boy?/Will anyone stand up and say?/Do you think that your life is worth nothing/Til someone is willing to pay?’ Graham Kendrick.

I just had a real stray dog of a thought, bit of a sick animal.  I was thinking about Nero, playing the fiddle while Rome burned.  I thought maybe he didn’t do the wrong thing.  Maybe it was the right thing to do.  Was there anything else he could have done?

Then I thought wait a minute, he was a ruler.  There must have been something else he could have done?

But we aren’t all Nero, and rulers.  Man, I must be sick.  I’m thinking for some of us it might be exactly the right thing to do.

I think all I really mean is that I wish people wouldn’t pull worst case examples out of the hat and use them to put pressure on people where the comparison is completely inappropriate.

We can pray.  Of course we can pray, if we are religious.  I was going to say Christians then realised Christianity isn’t the only religion that encourages and advocates prayer.

There was a bit of a dialogue going on a few years ago, between ‘prayer changes things’ and ‘prayer changes people’.  The latter position says that, even if your circumstances and situation don’t change when you pray, you will change, and maybe consequently your situation will as well.

I had a conversation on the phone yesterday with a lady from my credit card company.  We got talking about coincidences because the number of my new card was similar to the number of the other new card which I didn’t receive.  I asked her if she had unsettling coincidences in her life as I had in mine, and we mentioned phone numbers. She said that her phone number was almost the same as her friend’s number, but with the numbers reversed.  I told her about my Skype number, and that one of the options offered was the first three numbers of my landline followed by the last four of my critical method lecturer’s phone number.  I rejected it, just stopped trying to get a number, then decided I’d quite like it, but when I looked again a few seconds later, it was no longer available.  Strange.  Instead I ended up with another one, which had the first two numbers of the last part of his number reversed, and the last two numbers of the last part of his number reversed, all in the last part of my number.

That number has lapsed now, I might have to start with a new one.

So I’m assuming a lot of people are subject to these ‘coincidences’.  Coincidences?  And what are they doing to our minds?  And what aberations are they causing in our behaviour and reasoning?

I’m thinking about the marches and demonstrations.  Maybe I shouldn’t be.  But is that really the best and most effective and responsible way to express discontent and dissatisfaction?  Especially in the internet age, when networking and communication about these things can be obvious and open, as a march is.  Surely internet action could be given the same kind of news coverage as a march? I think it should be.  For a start, there were thousands of police at the march yesterday, and have been and will be in attendance at other marches and demonstrations.  That is thousands of man hours and probably tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of pounds.  Does that help us economically?  Or does it add an extra drain?

I wouldn’t like to condone violence and damage to property in demonstrations, but I do realise there is discontent among us, the little people, at the bottom of the pile, while the big business and banking employers march off with tons of wealth. Sometimes anger comes out violently, with everyone, to some degree or other.

I think the news agencies need to make a big shift away from the sensationalism of demonstrations and that internet action needs to be highlighted instead and positively encouraged as an alternative.  And if people want a family fun day out, maybe a march isn’t the best thing?  Perhaps something which would add immediately to the quality of their lives and maybe to the economy would be better?

That isn’t a stray dog, and I didn’t have this in mind when I started, but I think it is a brilliant and responsible and progressive idea and am sure other people must have had it as well.

I had a ring at my door about 20 minutes ago.  I felt nervous and defiant for a second and almost didn’t answer.  Then I thought it might be the postman, so I picked up my intercom phone and answered.  I said ‘hello’, 3 times, and there was no response.  Realistically I suspect it was my harassing neighbours, who shout and hallelujah and screw their voices round to ghostly and tap over my apartment, and worse, when I challenge them.

I was also afraid it might be the police, who might have come on the strength of what they have been told about my recent responses to the harassment, which have been desperate and unpleasant.  Every time I try mentally to break the feeling of my neighbours’ control and think for myself, she goes ‘hallelujah’ today, in a way which goes straight to my stomach.  As I said yesterday, people on UK news programmes are imitating them and me, and I think they are latching on to each other for control.  I’ve wonderd where they have got some of their information from, on BBC World News, and have thought perhaps my neighbours are recording it and passing it on.  It’s a good impression with some of the content. But my neighbours keep doing this spiritualistic stuff which is harassment, and are they also passing stuff on to the media, who got them started in the first place?  I know they did, because of what they were saying and dumb-showing.

Anyway, within 5 minutes of my doorbell ringing, I had an email land in my spam folder, claiming to be an invitation from an organisation called ‘Someone2Do’.  Police do people, right?  Who is responsible for this?  I get a lot of situationally and relationally relevant emails like this and have for years.

I get really afraid and desperate.  Am I the only person who can understand why and doesn’t think it is abnormal that I should or a sign of mental illness?  People have been insisting for years that it is a sign of mental illness.  i think it is a sign of some sort of gang or mafia type stalking, if not government.  You say this kind of thing and media people always treat it as a joke and the person who thinks it as crazy.  But a lot of people know it is anything but, so what do these people have to hide that they consistently treat it and us with anger and intimidation and contempt and ridicule?  The woman on now has just said ‘our team’ like RT, as in R T Kendall.  Sophie someone, one of the many Sofie’s who has come out since I have been in Bulgaria (Sofia is the capital of Bulgaria).

Edit note:  While I was writing this someone started with a drill upstairs.  I’m wondering now if it was him come to explain that he was doing some work.  But no one answered my door when I answered the bell.  It isn’t OK.

Who is this little savage, stripping people bare with her blasphemous imitation of speaking in tongues, stripping off the flesh then sounding pleased?  Coming on all offensive and aggressive, then going out tweeting purity?  She’s a bastard (biblical sense, if she is even that).

What point is she trying to make?

Why does she need to make it?

What are they trying to achieve by it?

Spiritual rape and armed robbery, it can only be.

They talk about ‘Twitter’ every time my mind and speech come strongly together, which probably means I have invalidated their deception and control at a deeper level and feel released from observing civil rules with stalkers and criminals.

This listen to mummy/daddy act they do.  It’s rubbish.  Mummy and daddy have told you the news.  Yeah, right!

9.30pm UK time.  the man who comes on treating really serious things as if they are a Talksport phone in has just come on, with the latest headlines before Hardtalk, and he said ‘turd’ for ‘third’, and talked about Vladimir or Vladivostok which consequently, deliberately or not, sounded like ‘bloody’.

BBC World News.  Making up emails or reading out plants.

10pm Jamie Robertson just said ‘spike’ as if he was spitting the word ‘spite’.  I get really upset at this.  I keep finding myself with the same expression on my face and attitude of mind (I suppose) and body as the News of the World guy who was done for phone hacking/bugging.

BBC World News Et Al

I’ve had enough of these guys, they are ludicrous. There is only one way to deal with them and stay sane, and that is to find them funny.  I even came up with a nickname for one of them this morning, which is not something I am into normally.  After his hypnotic gesture.  I found solace in humour (they keep clearing their throats off-screen, what has happened to the cough button?  It exsits.  It is rude not to use it.  It’s gross, especially when they deliberately heighten your sensitivity so you hear every minute sound), and thought of him as ‘Nick the Thing’.

It’s not the stories and their seriousness, I wish I could concentrate on those in peace.  It’s the other stuff they use to play with your head.  Peter Dobbie came on with what sounded like righteous indignation and grief which felt like an accusation in view of what I have just written (ed note: I added the bit about the cough button and nick names after this).  I would like to write more but again, the hard aggressiveness with everything that they put on it for a ride has completely wiped my mind of what I was going to write.

The guys who just went out, it seemed fairly obvious to me that they did a synchronised and agreed look down at their desk as they finished.  it was perfectly times and synchronised, and when I saw that I understood the ‘poised to spring’ body language that immediately led up to it.

I know Japan is important, but it is not my issue.  Maybe it should be, they make it feel as if it should be, but it isn’t.

Crikey, I’m sorry about this, but I swear some of these people deliberately posture themselves as accusers.  I don’t know how to put this delicately, but i am sure peter Dobbie just embodied piss.

Nick Ravenscroft came on and called peter by his name, and said ‘listening to you and Rachel’ in very intimate tones.  They look at us and say each other’s names.  I think that is deliberate psychological and spiritual aggression, but even if it isn’t, they give the impression of being there to relate more to each other than to us, and we are just the observers and eavesdroppers.  I feel a resistance every time I get the perfect word.  I know now that kind of thing is not my imagination.  So does everyone else, no matter how dishonest they are about it.

And for goodness’ sake, what is susan Powell’s gaffe?  She comes on like some high level care worker or doctor breaking bad news, ‘I know, I’m so sorry, I do sympathise, but that is how it is.  It’s OK, we’ll cope’. 

These people are bad, high-control, criminal egos.  Please Lord, no longer in my vicinity.  In Jesus’ Name.  Amen.

Someone speaking to Peter Dobbie just used the word ‘severe’ and Peter Dobbie cleared his throat.  That is it exactly.  That is the exact word for the way they are deliberately presenting themselves, in my opinion.  Thank you God that that got through.

‘Look up there, look over there (but I’m pointing you there contrary to you expectations from what I have set up, because I want to see your reaction or break your concentration).  Watch how often this happens in the whole communication and not just in words.

My first experience of this was in Bulgaria, after I complained to an internet cafe owner who I thought seemed really nice about the fact that two of his female customers had just been openly and unashamedly scathing of me as an English person, saying English people have no taste.  He did that and I was devastated.  I don’t know why he did it, I had never met him before.  He looked at me as if to say, ‘aha, yes, quite’ then completely turned his attention away from me.  He only got that reaction from me in the first place because I myself have a tender conscience and don’t like complaining about other people.  It didn’t even necessarily show that I am a bad person, but he seemed to want to take it that way.  I suppose it might have had something to do with his relationship with the women, but at the time I was just really upset and didn’t know what had hit me.

I’m mentioning this because the UK meida pulls a lot of things like this out of the bag.  It is like psyhological torture and pressure to go home.  But I don’t want to.  It’s interference.  Without it (he can feel me psychically, he keeps banging his stuff), I could have coped a lot better a lot earlier, and so could everyone else.  As it is they have just humiliated me, and feeling so humiliated I have to cope also with the possible loss of my home.

Peter Dobbie, this is gross.  And this deliberate sternness and strictness that you all keep putting out at us – who do you all think you are?  It is a complete insult and completely abusive.  Abuse on abuse.  And you bastards (yes, I’m upset)  . . . and now I can’t remember what I was going to say.  Whatever this is it projects as immovable and impassable.  They are holding me, at least, to ransom, and in so doing are empowereing others to do the same. And it is all on purpose.  I’m not sure what language peter Dobbie is now impersonating, but he just said ‘what are you seeing?’ rather than ‘what can you see?’  I believe this is a deliberate and obvious perception shifter.  The only contexts I can think of for where I might have encountered it are in therapeutic situations or in the House Church.  He’s talking to Rachel as if she is his daughter.  This is a public broadcast.  Every time I go to make a strong statement there is a bang in the studio, I suppose they are banging the desk.

I think these people might be examples of what the Bible is talking about when it talks about those who suppress the truth in unrighteousness.  They use an Irish accent to good effect as well, I’ve heard them talk about it.  I don’t know why.  All that comes to mind is that I had an Irish boyfriend and Colin Dye’s wife is irish, and some of my ministers have known Ian Paisley and I think they thought I was a terrorist threat becasue of something I said and that they talked to him and I never knew.  All of these seem probable.  I know it is effective.  Everyone I’ve mentioned in this paragraph apart from my old boyfriend is involved with the government.  So when I have talked about the government in other posts and pages, I’m not being psychotic with delusions of grandeur.

Yes, there has been a major disaster in Japan, a place, for some reason, which is close to my heart, but I am too much of an ignoramus and too alone to have much to say or contribute.

But apart from that,  I know, even with what I am experiencing in my own locality, that most of what I am being exposed to is spiritual impersonation, much of it rapacious and debilitating and violent and viscerally accusing and manipulative and dishonest.  Just about everything you feel while exposed to it is a demonic imposition.  Even though I might not be able personally to possess that, I know it is true.  I’m failing to live in the knowledge, which is a bit new in it’s present formulation anyway, I don’t feel at all empowered by it, my neighbours keep yelling and banging, seeming to think somehow that might help them, or opposing me, or something (I feel differently at different times, and probably they do as well), but I still know it is true.

It is easy to know that when dealing with non-Christian sources.  When it involves Christian sources or sources which appear to believe they are Christian sources, it’s a bit more complicated.

I’ve been watching BBC World News.  That was when I realised in a way I never have before.  It is a spiritual impersonation and a form of spiritualistic, psychic phishing.  It is also a source of the most scathing and cynical accusation, based on stalking and psychological profiling dressed up as a news report.  The story is the vehicle for the persecution.  I know that is a grievous thing to say, but from what I have seen and heard I have no reason to think anything different.  I’m not saying ‘all hail the church and its organs’, even though I feel it to some degree when I write something like this.  I know that what I am saying is the truth and I don’t know what to do with it.  I know this sounds awful for a Christian to say, but my neighbours are spiritually leeching on me to such an extent communication isn’t something I can cope with very well.  When I am trying to write something like this, that I need to have believed and accepted and not separated from the essence of who I am, the interjections I get from my neighbours leave me feeling terrified and hysterically desperate, it is like spiritual theft and murder.

I know this sounds horrible, but the way the woman keeps yelling – .  OK, for one thing, God knows it is spiritual impersonation.  But she is like a begging leech, combining it at periods, like just now, right just now, with violent banging on my ceiling, and when I am not doing my best not to cry hysterically, begging them because I am taken in by the impersonation, she reminds me of the little core creatures that chased the people at the end of the sequel to Stepford Wives, desperately grasping and grabbing on to the people who were fleeing for freedom.

I think she impersonates a child as well.  I think it is a form of demonic accusation.  The Lord knows I know this, whatever they make me feel.

I think she is really insane.  I feel like I’m being clung to by a really unclean thing.  I don’t think I have ever felt anything quite like it.

BBC World News again.

I’ve had a really rough day today.  Every day is rough, my neighbours never let up, but today was worse.

I said a lot of things through Google Translate, which I think is sometimes not that accurate anyway.  I also started to draft a post which I didn’t finish because my poor broken open, fragile mind and psyche had another shotgun hallelujah screeched into it by mad motormouth neighbour-mother. I even told her today that in my opinion she needed either to go to the police or get psychiatric treatment, and that I didn’t believe in psychiatry, just to emphasise how extreme her behaviour is and how much I felt she needed to take some action.  She often acts as if she is out of her mind.  And I don’t say that kind of thing, so something has broken down in me somewhere.

After saying that if they pray and also harass their prayers are also illegal, I switched BBC World News on and it was a special news report on prisoners of an uprising.  I don’t know if it was Libya or not, to show how little I was able to concentrate.  I remember one of the reporters said people were screaming and that it was one of the worst things he had ever seen, and that he had seen some pretty bad things.  I thought how often I react to reporters as if they are freshers with no relationship with people they interview and no understanding between themselves and the interviewee, even if they fight on screen like cat and dog.  I noticed the ears of one of the guys, they seemed to be translucent and letting through a red light from behind.  I’ve never seen ears like that.

But I was fagged out and tired.  I had just fought a battle with my neighbours for my legal right to not be harassed and felt I had made a positive step forward in asserting my right to live here in peace.  But I was tired and questioning myself and, while the television was on, I was working through the questions and how much of what I had said (ranted, thrown across the line) I had meant and was right and needed to be said, and I wasn’t really listening, it was just there, a relaxing, comforting hum in the background while I sorted my mind and feelings out.  I was calming down and feeling more settled and relaxed and happy with things (some people would say I shouldn’t have been, but that isn’t the point of this post) when Jamie’s tone started to take on significance and he emphasised ‘slow down’ or ‘slowing down’, and I looked up into his eyes feeling my attention had been forced onto him and away from my own thoughts and he had lifted up one of his fingers and was doing a hypnosis type movement with it, in front of the eyes, and because I was watching and because of everything else that has already gone, I thought he was doing it at me.  He was doing it at the camera anyway, obviously deliberately, I believe, with me watching, and I felt affected by it.  Whether it was real in intention or just a humorous or mocking caricature, it made me angry because it was deliberate, and I hadn’t wanted my attention forced onto him in that way, I needed the space I had to resolve my own thoughts in the situation I am in, 2000 miles away sitting on my sofa in a pain-filled violent harassment situation.  He was deliberately calling attention and short-circuited the process.

He said some other stuff, about someone not being welcome in the situation anymore, and because of the violent call on my attention I felt confused because I was still with my situation here and had been forcibly removed in my mind from it against my will and criminally, I believe, so I thought he was talking about here.  He put his hands up and opened them out like a book, which is another part of the gesture cluster, and I was just getting angrier, then he smiled as if he recognised a presence (whether it was an act or not I don’t know, it seemed real), held the camera with his eye then jerked away and hit the desk with his papers, which I always find really crude and violent as a form of command or territory marking, and called on his interviewee.  What is that about?  I thought it was a psychic thing.  He was using material from my Google Translate session and from my unpublished post.  I don’t understand the gesturing now, I thought it was a psychic thing, but maybe it is just bad handling of a transition into an interview, saying my stuff which he shouldn’t be accessing and defiantly holding the camera in a face off.  It’s still criminal.  It’s still a crime, using what I haven’t even published yet or never would have.  I’m not sure where he was getting the Google Translate stuff from, but the draft post must have been through WordPress or straight off of my computer.

I was so angry and outraged and afraid and offended and disturbed, I started to hear voices.  Ghosting voices, behind me, like the woman shouting hallelujah, but they seemed to be more in my ears.  I don’t know, it was just frightening and disturbing and horrible.  After a few minutes I shouted at her to shut up because it was 12.30 am here and there shouldn’t be any noise after 10 pm.  Then I thought, ‘is it her, it might not be’.  I thought about what was happening, how it seemed to be whispers insistent and crowding around my ear, and decided it was an occult manifestation brought on by the psychologically and spiritually violent and illegal thing which had just been done to me.  It just occurs to me now, as well, that it was my sister’s birthday yesterday, 9th March, and just like Jools Holland held a concert in my birth city on my birthday, Derek Acorah did a show on my sister’s birthday, so there might have been an occult connection there as well, as well as all the straight forward illegal stalking ones.  My sister has been harassed by satanists, who have told her so, if I remember it right.

But he just stayed there, Jamie, staring down the camera, just going on and on, and I was thinking ‘no, this isn’t OK, this is illegal and spiritualist stalking and you have just broken into my mind and life and home by your use of my material’, he laughingly talked about a ‘grievous and irreparable breakdown’, which was relevant to my post subject which is still in draft form, and went out on another laughed ‘grievously’, and apart from anything else I felt mocked and teased about something which, to me, is really serious.

The sports report came on and at one point there was a picture of a group of sportsmen screaming a psychologically disarming warrior type screech, and the presenter came straight backed insistently facing off into the camera instructing someone, on the wave of that yell, to ‘remember when’.  That isn’t good.  That is bad.  I can’t find the terminology for it at the moment, I don’t think I’m imagining it this time, I’ve just been assaulted by another yell from my neighbour as soon as I started to write this, at 2.30 in the morning.  But it isn’t good, what happened in the sports report, and as part of the psychological stalking pattern which is part of and enabled by access to facts and people, I know it’s criminal, whether people will acknowledge that to me or not.  Or do anything about it or not.  And they should.  They are commanding me as if they have a right, more or less saying, ‘you did this and you did that and we have a right to resist you’, but it appears to release something in the studio which is what I think they are after.  It is obviously something they like.  But they savage me to get it.  And all the banging and tapping, obviously and surreptitiously, is grossly offensive and distracting and psychologically violent, for those targeted and whose attention is held as it is visited on them, territory marking.

They were using Tiger Woods as well.  I feel really sorry for him, we all saw how they treated him and I recognise in him the same signs of having been deliberately broken down and crushed, as a person with an open faith/religious position involving a strong moral stance, and left wanting to beg and plead with those who have crushed him as if he needs their permission, as if they glory in making him feel his salvation and redemption, as well as their ‘well, we sympathise but it serves you right’ attitude, are in their hands, that I do in myself.  When I see that it upsets me and makes me really angry.  I want to cry for him and pull them off.  There is something in me, I want to physically attack them and force them away from him when I see them letting him express that extremity of pain and and brokenness and apparently be offering no sympathy or support.  They have no right to humiliate people like that.  Who are these fans that he owed the contents of his entrails to?  If he doesn’t know them, they don’t exist, they were made up for him to make him grovel.  If he does know them and they think it was any of their business, they are probably wrong, in my opinion.  I don’t think it should have been public fare at all, it should have been contained and I can’t see why there had to be a public apology.  The only people he owed anything to were his wife and their relatives.  But then maybe I’m just misjudging the media again.  As a if not the top golfer at the time, if it hadn’t been formalised publicly it would have leaked, which might have been worse).

I’ve thought several times about the sentence from ‘Field of Dreams’, about a baseball player called Babe Ruth, I think, where it says, ‘if we build it, he will come’.  I think he was dead and they wanted his spirit in the place they built for him.  That is what they are doing with – me?  Someone said just because you are in it it doesn’t mean it is about you.  There are lots of people I know ‘in it’.  Is it about us all or is it just general harassment?  Why are we all in it? But more to the point for me, why am I and my family in it, who have no public platform or role?  Many of the lookalikes and namesakes I see – have a working role in a place I have been associated with.  But some are just ordinary people I have met, very quickly after I have met them, placed in a cluster which makes it obvious to me, if to no one else.

I’m wondering if they’re holding a prayer vigil or something, in the apartment upstairs.  I just heard a tapping as I was working with the last paragraph, at ‘that’ point in my engagement and concentration, and I stopped and listened and inwardly examined and challenged it, and the woman coughed in a way which is obviously not my imagination.  I don’t want it, if that is what it is (I swear someone just cried out hallelujah).  They won’t go to the police.  It’s harassment (another cough).  I don’t even get my own head space and work space in the middle of the night, if they have decided to hold some sort of vigil.  (Pause to think and challenge and reject my feeling of responsibility to go and knock on their door and see what is wrong and if and how I can help, countered by another cough).  It makes me feel as if I am being horrible and unmerciful, but they have set this in motion themselves, I don’t think we understand each other, as far as I am concerned everything they are doing is illegal (I type in response to her nasty chav noise) and if they won’t go to the police instead of harassing and invigilating I can’t see what can be done even if – no forget it, I am not responsible. They only want to make me feel that way.  If they wanted help they would initiate finding it themselves.  It appears they obviously have not and therefore probably do not.  So on that horrible derisive sound which makes me feel my whole night is going to be punctuated by these outbursts, I’m going to see what I can achieve by way of sleep in bed.  At least these days I have decided I’m not just going to stay hysterically glued to my sofa and fall asleep on that, I do actually go to bed in my bedroom, which I think is better.  They are making me feel like a really bad person for standing up for myself and not doing their work for them.  Yeah, whatever.  I should show some concern.  It feels like the most appropriate thing to do.  It also feels like the most inappropriate thing to do, at this time of night.  I should shout ‘I’m sorry’ or something.

I’m sorry, I’m not going to, I’m going to bed.  If the news people’s (again) suggestion that the situation is too broken down and I’m not welcome anymore and they are going to get me out is true (they do this all the time) so be it.  I’m really upset by it and feel very insecure but/and I’m going to bed.  Schnor-di-schnor.  Goodnight 🙂  (Woah, very resistant sounding bang, followed up by a muffled ‘hallelujah’ when I started writing this comment.  Their hallelujahs are an illegal and criminal, at this time of nght, expression of witchcraft – not to mention communist-style torture – or have I done that already?

Is the UK media trying to make people believe I’m a somebody with them?  Is that why people here keep going for my voice and trying to adjsut it to suit their own purposes?  But they can sound as sour as they like.

I just realised today (Wednesday UK time) while watching today’s The Daily Politics on the BBC, that the two commentators are deliberate resemblances of me and Michael Mish.  I could tell by their discomfort and slight embarrassment.

I don’t understand why they are doing it, not even after all these years.  Are they somehow trying to subsume me?  I’m not even involved with the media and never have been, except as an occasional caller.  Are they trying to tell people I am something else?  I know they tell me I’m all sorts of negative things.  What are they telling other people about me?  That I’m some sort of star come to grace their space, when my main concern at the moment is to keep my home of 14/15 years and not let my landlord evict me?  I’m a nobody about to become homeless if someone doesn’t get these people off me and let me think to deal with it.  I’m serious, even if now, at this time of night, I feel guilty saying so and would anyway, saying so.  I’m spending my whole time fighting this screeching banshee woman going for my ears and head, she is all I can hear all the time, my ears now are full of her and she isn’t even making a noise at the moment.  The feeling of her constant presence I suppose comes from her constant control while she is awake and insistence on a certain voice and banging or shouting when she hears it, and the knowledge that as soon as I begin to fall into a relaxed sleep or to wake up, it starts all over again, to some degree.  I know there is no respite.

Why are the media doing this to me?  I didn’t ask for anything other than an ordinary life and that is what I want.  Why are they messing with our lives and heads like this?  Why the tears and the impression they give that they have a right to be upset and offended at what they hear from their stalking?  I am not of them.  Who are they trying to give this impression to and why?  I have sought the friendship of a few.  It isn’t there.  I’m not a performer or anything else.  I am and always have been an ordinary person needing ordinary privacy while I fight for my own survival.  Why have they taken this and why are they surreptitiously suggesting the situation is something different?  Who are they suggesting it to and why?  I’m nobody.  The other people from my life that they also use and refer to probably resent it all as much as I do and that is why I have no relationships.  They are not calling me.  If they were they would, I have given them plenty of opportunity and sent plenty of emails that remain unanswered.  Malcolm isn’t calling me.  Tommy isn’t calling me.  Michael isn’t calling me.  No one is.  It’s a big, fat, lying con.  It must be.  It should be.  If they were calling me they would and should just get in touch normally.  And they don’t.

Different streams first.  I’m downloading the programme. 

I wanted to hear what was happening really early on and tried to break in the middle of an advert or song, so I tuned into the live stream for a second.  I heard a woman speaking, it sounded like Lizzie Crowe.  The downloaded stream is different and the woman’s voice isn’t there.  On the downloaded stream John says Lizzie is having a day off because she works on Saturday.

I’m wondering how long this has been happening and how many other stations do the same thing.  Maybe that is why I don’t get many detailed responses to what I write, because the downloaded stream is different from what you get when you tune in and I sound either as if I am lying or am hallucinating. 

I tried to upload an mp3 the other day.  I got a message saying that kind of file is restricted for security reasons.  I have the space upgrade and it is one of the allowed file types.  I think for all of these people the industry, or their place in it, might be more important than the truth.  I think if I tried to tell anyone, including Saints Tommy Boyd and Michael Mish, they would pretend they didn’t know what I was talking about.  I left some comments on Michael’s youtube account (mmish2) on the video ‘monkey forest’ which I thought were obviously from me (we corresponded for a year and spoke on the phone a few times, and I felt he was the person who both restored my sanity and ability to stand up for myself, and who kept me sane.  I felt he was a really good and beautiful and wise and sensitive friend.  I still do), but he sent a note asking if he knew me from somewhere and has blocked me.  They would blank me and treat me like an idiot.  They have done it before, many people do.  Tommy emerges with a post when he wants to comment on one of mine and make an impression, if he is the writer.  Last night the comments were still there on Michael’s account.  He might remove them now.  He might change his account name.  I hope he doesn’t, and if he loves me I hope he forgives me and re-establishes the relationship he said was over.  Premier, at least for one, appears to be dealing in deception of a kind I wouldn’t have thought anyone would and didn’t know anyone did, and definitely not Christians.  

I have no friends.  It is an illusion, and I know now how abusive it has been, and how murderous.  I have people I love, but they are not friends.  They aren’t even brave or honest and are possibly illegal though they posture as respectable.  John Pantry is nasty and needling, as well as criminal, and so are the people who hit me with flurries of computer and application crashes at significant times, like now.  I’m now recording both streams.  They know I’m into the performing arts and are trying to pass it off and make me value it as a creative response to a crisis, or at least make me believe that other people will value it on those terms.  I believe that is another particularly devious and abusive aspect of their deception.  The men were laughing and jeering.  My recorder crashed or was crashed and I have lost my live stream recording, and I got confused and also wiped my download.  John is savage.  He tracks what I’m writing as I write it and talks with jeering, exalted ‘serves you right tones’ when something I am doing goes wrong.

They are into impersonation as much as the secularists and impersonate mental health and police authorities and adopt how dare you tones, look at what you’ve done tones.  Because of what they have already done to me and allowed to be done to me, maybe, and in some cases definitely, even instructed people to do to me, I feel hysterical and as if they are grabbing and attacking me physically, from a distance, one that allows them to mock and make me believe they are getting away with it and that no one cares or will hold them to account, because that is what has been involved in my ‘management’ and ‘treatment’ so far, for over a decade, while the mental health authorities have been involved and utilised.

They are trying to make me believe no one will believe me or care or think it is significant even if they do.  They are trying to make sure that even if they have to pay for what they have done and are doing, I myself will remain damaged in my mind and emotions for the rest of my life for opposing them, God’s anointed.  That is what this kind of leader from their kinds of churches do and major on, it is how they teach.  I’ve spent most of my life, about 40 years, exposed to this, closely and with very few breaks.  It is vicious, malicious, cruel and deceitful.  It is actually murderous.  They know I understand the word ‘fantastic’ and am into etymology, and they are teasing me with it in its literal sense, that it is beyond belief.  It is spiritual molestation equivalent in tone to a verbal guided fantasy of sexual molestation, and they are dangling in front of me the teaching I have most deeply and readily embraced and basically saying ‘hurt us and you lose this’.  I’m talking about their teaching, but I hear my own, very strong, sexually referential undertones just as obviously as everyone else will, and they have blocked and accused me at that level for years.

At the beginning John prayed a prayer about the trust of children (I wrote this paragraph first, I now realise how deep and monstrous is their betrayal and abuse of trust).  But little children don’t trust.  They don’t have that awareness when they are first born.  When they do come to awareness, they often still don’t trust.  They just take things for granted as they are.  You could say an abused child trusts, but they don’t really, they just don’t know anything different.  I was an abused child, and frightened and miserable, but I didn’t know it could be different.  Even if I experienced short periods of difference with other families, I didn’t know it could be different for me.

I think trust is often in spite of and is more an adult thing.

These people will pay for every life they sabotage.  I pray God will hurt them for what they have done and are doing, as criminals, especially those who hold office and responsibility, always should be hurt and have to pay for what they have done to their victims.  They say I can be free and healed.  I believe that.  But they have no right, as abusers and criminals, to offer me that.  That is abusive and torturous in itself.  I want them to suffer the consequences the law says they should.

I started to pray when I couldn’t bear what I was listening to anymore.  At that point John said ‘put that sherry down, it’s too early’.  I took it as aimed at me, and was frightened and upset.  It was aimed at someone, and was symbolic in use.  They don’t talk straight and accountably.  Most of their audience is a victim of deception, and some of us helpless victims of their assumed stupidity and abuse because the other part of their audience wouldn’t believe that of them.  They help the violent and abusive against me.  Psychologically they help people to extort from me, their own violent members into whose hands I have fallen or been deliberately delivered.  I’m fed up of wide boy pastors and people coming on clean cut while they criminally work me over and take everything they can.

I wrote this on Saturday.  I was going to change the title, but I’ve forgotten what to.  The link I am inserting relates to the end of my post where I mention Newsnight and Simon Schama, who was the historian in the first post on this blog in May last year.

I’m not sure why I’m putting it out.  I feel a bit dissociative at the moment.  Apologies to Peter Dobby if I have got him completely wrong.  I know I’m not the only person who thinks that everyone else is evil when they are in a crisis they haven’t made themselves.  A bad thing isn’t made good because it is done with good motives – she says moralistically.  I don’t even know if that is right in this case, where I feel protectively stalked by the media.  If I say I feel protectively stalked, why am I not protecting them?  Maybe because I am a vengeful, selfish and cynical cow.  I don’t know why I’m not protecting them, and I feel wrong for not doing.  I should be so grateful, I feel, in some ways.  As for Peter, I saw his own distress, and I feel really bad about what I said in other posts and what I have include here.  I’m interpreting everything selfishly and cruelly.  If anyone is exposed by what I’ve said about him it is me and not him. I hope so.  I’m sorry, Peter.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00zfmwq/Newsnight_Revolution_2011/

My computer keeps being crashed.  Last night I lost the biggest chunk of text I have ever lost on WordPress.  It normally saves automatically.

As I was saying, Peter Dobby is a complete bastard, a cruel and unkind person who delights in the devastation he causes another to feel.  he can barely hide it.

I was also saying that, although these people might seem soft and casual, don’t be deceived.  They have a rapacious agenda they know about but do not acknowledge to us, they carry it out ruthlessly.  They seem soft and casual, but they are highly driven, hardsell people, and are inquisitors and torturers.  Deliberately.  It isn’t that some of them are hard and some of them are nice.  They have the same agenda.  It’s called the iron fist/velvet glove approach.

Jesus said don’t cast your pearls before swine, or they will turn again and rend you to pieces.  They act like velvet, don’t they?  Like a glass of Baileys.

Peter Dobby just said ‘plenty more to come in the programme’.  As he was saying it, or something just before it, he was looking down on the desk, looking at the desk like a kind human being looks at a friend, but when he lifted his face up to the camera, he put a blank, hardly there for anyone look on his face, completely untouchable and contemptuous and as if he had a bad smell under his nose.  We were meant to see both.  The ones of us that get attacked by them were meant to want to fly at him in retaliation, or beg him to stop or something, at which point he would get our story, and suddenly our minds would be wiped clean and we would be back in favour and no longer under threat and none of the tactics they had used would matter to us anymore, because breaking and giving them what they wanted would seem like the right and reasonable thing to do.  There is so much of the ending of 1984 in this.  The couple are separated from each other, passing each other in the street and hardly seeing each other, the torture and betrayal have been that deep and awful, and the final scene is something involving an imposed consciousness of ‘Big Brother’, a voice or a picture or something like that, and the man sits there in tears, realising, as I think it is the last sentence of the book that says this, that he loved Big Brother.  They had been caught by surreptitious and deceptive state surveillance and their relationship broken by torture.

The face Peter Dobby lifted to the camera, that is the programme. Or part of the programme, the psychologically violent one.  When they talk about the programme, they are using so many therapy type things and terms, and guided fantasy methods and word pictures (bodies and buildings, for instance) that I hear ‘programme’ as psychological programme, and I think that is what they mean.  I was going to say they all do it, but now I am confused.  I’m pretty sure they do.  I’m emotionally breaking at the moment, what they are doing is making me feel  disorientated and dislocated and really bad, especially the delight they appear to be taking in my humiliation.  It’s so bad, I even feel guilty about reworking a post, the blank, Frankenstein’s monster look he puts out with the provocation very few people are meant to see and understand makes me feel hysterical and incapable of communication.  So does my neighbours’ silence when I react to their invasiveness and provocation.  It seems to me their silence is as deliberate as everything else.

I’ve said before that they go for my throat.  I just watched, for the second time, this time just because it was on the television when I switched it on, Thursday night’s Newsnight, talking about the Libyan uprising.  One of the guests said it was as if something had been taken off of their throats and their voices now sounded clear to him.  The historian Simon Schama, who I have written about before, was there, and he picked up the significance of that and looked very guilty and shocked.  I believe he was thinking about me, perhaps, at least among others.  But the look of guilt was there.  They put the stalking into the community, play on your controlling feelings, for instance, guilt and shame, and using your neighbours as the people who hold you up against the wall as they beat you up, they lay into you. It’s occultism and salacious insolence.  It is so outrageous you want to hit back, if they’ve already worked you over and you understand what they have done and are still having to live with it, and at the same time they put their faces into yours, through the camera, and say ‘what are you going to do about it?’.  The way they eyeball the camera, eyeballing the person their speech is tailored to, and hold your eye while they shout the name of their colleague, which might or might not be your name, is abusive.  It IS deliberate and it IS abusive.  It’s intimidation, and it’s like staring down a dog.

I watched some videos online the other day, by a legal expert in the US, saying it would be OK, in law, to lie to Mr Assange to lure him to a place where they could kidnap him.  I understand the feeling of what he is living with, in terms of the threat and uncertainty (even though I do not know that my life is in danger) living with threat from authorities (and non-authorities) in different ways. 

I don’t think there is anything I can do, but I wish it wasn’t happening to him.  I feel like pleading with him, ‘please don’t die’.

It shouldn’t be legally OK to lie to anyone.  Certainly not for government bodies.  But they do it all the time.  For our protection, they say. 

I don’t want a society riddled with and ‘protected’ by lies.  Some Christians quote Rahab who hid the spies and lied about where they had gone, as being an example of when lying is right.  But the Bible says ‘God is not a man, that He should lie’.  It also says ‘Walk before me and be thou perfect’.  In the New Testament it also says ‘put off lying one to another’ and ‘let no corrupt communication come out of your mouth’.

For me these are heart and covenant verses, and the only ones I can remember out of my own head.  But no one has the right to argue, based on what they see from my limited memory, that the whole issue is a covenant thing and that there are some circumstances, therefore, when lying is right to, or about, certain people.

The reason I say this is that the New Testament isn’t big on self-protection, not for Christians.  We are told to honour all men, and to do good to all (even though it does say especially to those wo are of the household of faith, that doesn’t mean it is OK to do evil to someone else, even if the law demands that they be punished for a crime). 

If the law allows lying, the law is a mess.  Why should the only sanctified place of honour be in court, where it becomes illegal to lie?  Think how much time and money and distress would be saved to so many, if only lying itself, in whatever circumstances, was a crime.  Why isn’t lying, such an abusive and dishonorable thing, a crime?  So that lawyers can continue getting fat?

The New Testament isn’t big on self-protection or for terrestrial country being on a par with God.  Christians were encouraged to accept death for refusing to say, ‘Caesar is Lord’.  I think that encouragement was right.  People are not perfect.  Even if the only acceptable point being made here for some people is that the individual’s conscience comes before any allegiance to king and country (or continent, or one world government, since that is obviously what people are trying to practice, it doesn’t have to be treated with sensationalism for it obviously to be true), I believe that is the point that has to win the day, over and above loyalty to earthly government and authorities.

The spies might have been covenant people, but they were also ordinary men. Who wouldn’t be grateful for having their lives saved?  If in rewarding the woman for that they affirmed lying, they were wrong.  The Bible says she was also a harlot, whatever that means, maybe it isn’t it’s modern meaning.  They weren’t, surely, rewarding and affirming that, if it was what is understood by the word today.  They were showing human gratitude and mercy.  Who knows, maybe they should never have involved the name of God in the transaction at all.  It was a normal, human response to someone who has saved your life.

The fact that someone uses an exalted tone doesn’t make them right.  Maybe they didn’t use an exalted tone, maybe it is just the way I have heard it read and carressed in Church.  I think a verbal carress expresses joy and gratitude and strong feeling.  it is not necessarily an indicator of truth, even though you might feel that people capable of expressing such strong and positive feelings can’t possibly be wrong.  People and their feelings should never be idolised.  Feelings rely on information.  Information might be wrong, or wrongly understood.  No one should ever say to another, ‘I am so and so, do as I say’, unless it is in a clear matter of law.  That is why, I believe, we need to be dispassionate and not inflammatory, if a safe world is what we want.

BBC World News. 2.23 am UK time. Indian woman, Sharma or something.  She’s been hitting me for about 15 minutes.  She just went into an interview with Phil Mercer, who was part of Premier Radio at the beginning, saying ‘weelly’ for ‘really’, or something like that. More like ‘weech’ for ‘reach’. 

It isn’t appropriate for me to care how anyone feels about the way I communicate about this. They shouldn’t be doing it. It is abusive and an assault.  I believe it is also a crime.  She came on talking like a Bulgarian (is that just coincidence as well?)  I will care, and be hurt, they press all the right buttons.  But it isn’t appropriate that I should care, though it is inevitable that I will be hurt.  My neighbours are getting it in the neck, while I’m trying to go softly, softly with the people who are really hurting me and exploiting things.

There was a message in Bulgarian on my screen as well.  I’ve never had that before.  I’m wondering if it is from the cable company reminding me that payment is due, or something.  Maybe I’ll be without tv and internet tomorrow.

I just changed my title to include superimposed.  The Indian lady was suddenly close to tears.  Is it appropriate that I should care????  She looks pleased.  It’s the tears, it isn’t personal.  I don’t know her, I only know what she is doing.  And she does too.  As she started to talk to Phil Mercer, and went into it with ‘weech’ for ‘reach’, her eyebrows twitched with recognised significance.

She’s fluffing her lines like Bulgarians fluff their speech sometimes.  Sometimes it’s for power and sometimes it’s out of bewilderment.  All the presenters are fluffing their lines in the same, uniform way at the moment.

Sometimes your speech gets scrambled.  It doesn’t mean there is anything wrong, or does it?  Is it just that your speech has been challenged at a deep level?  I can’t remember when this started happening for me, I think it was here in Bulgaria.  It might be a fear thing.  I hear the anger, but I don’t understand its content, so I don’t know how to feel.  So I suppose it is partly confusion.

You’re An Embarrassment

You news people, you irresponsible, provocative bastards, you are an embarrassment to the public that relies on you.  Especially the vulnerable ones like me that you torture with your smug craftiness and lying hypocrisy until we feel we have to say the things you know but refuse to take responsibility for.  I wish I knew your name, you have a face that looks like an arse that needs smacking.  Ben Brown.  You people have been outraging people with your untruthfulness and linguistic trickery all day.

And since you are BBC World News, and without Unlock VPN we can’t get tv news from home, why don’t we hear more from home news?  And why can’t people in the UK watch what we do get?  So they can’t see the unbalanced, sickly crap?

And someone is deliberately crashing my computer, and that is an act of violence, and so was your smirking little sports girl, smirking over number ones and number twos.  That is completely molestation, and everything you do is incitement.  Why are you closing your poor little eyes, Mr News Presenter, as if you can’t cope with the world or anyone who wants to access you, and probably especially me, with the pointedness of your insults.  How dare you set your faces against anyone in your audience.  I’m not the person you are speaking to when you call a fellow reporter by name, so stop eyeballing the camera and shouting someone else’s name at the people watching you.  I’m not a dog.  You treat me like one.  You’re the dogs.  You are the dangerous, dishonest and violent ones.  You.  You’re scum.  You are filthy dogs and scum, both men and women.  Decent people hate you.  Decent people like me.  Ban Ki Moon talks about journalists being threatened with guns and knives.  I’m not surprised.  You play the innocents but you are anything but, with your illegitimate, illegal mind games.  you’re shooting words, one of them ‘witch’, and you’ve been talking about a sportsman smashing a tv set, and you smirk into the camera as you pelt me with your verbal needles and violence and incitement.  But you did all the last bit, about 2 minutes of it, off camera, and came back on looking all innocence.  Go to hell, all of you.  I join my voice with that of Gadaffi, even if I can’t spell his name.   You, the news, the politicians, have exploited him as much as you have me.  Then you try to make out you don’t understand why he is acting like a madman, if he is, it is only a western prejudice and convenience to say so.  What about the west and its war crimes, Mr Cameron?  Locking people up as mental patients without telling them why they are really there?  What about western media and its straightforward, criminal and smutty stalking?  You bastards, you are liars and hypocrites.  If you’re so keen on democracy, why can’t you allow others to choose a different form of government, without sabotaging and brainwashing them to think our way is better.  In practice, you people are the first to say it is not, because you reserve the right to be called the experts and to say the general populace does not understand.  And although we don’t have the death penalty here or openly recognise torture, you farm them out to other countries, and even practice them yourselves.  You have broken my heart today and every day you do this kind of thing.  You are so obviously, savagely, criminally, contemptuously dishonest, and you don’t care.  You spit in our faces.  You are liars, you are dogs, and I hate you.  Right now I could not hate you more.  What you’ve done and have been doing is monstrous, and so is what you have allowed.  This is just opportunistic attention shifting and another attempt to unite us against someone else you choose to call alien.  Why can’t you be decent?  Why can’t you make us a nation to be proud of?  Why do you lie and betray us?  Why do you make us want to turn our faces from you in shame?  Why do you let violent men rule over women who don’t even understand their language, so you can get on and do all this, and add your own forms of violence?  The world’s leaders, including those of the Middle East, should rise as one and condemn you.  I think most of us probably know you’re feeding us something disgusting.  Maybe in the UK news people are more voluble about saying so.  I am ashamed of you today, and I wish I didn’t know you.  I really mean that.  To me Gadaffi looks more bewildered than anything.  The photos you are putting out of him, he looks a lot like David Shearman.  You’ve done a lot of this.  i hate you for this, and your news and approach is not in my name.  I’m crying and I want to scream.  I have no one to grieve with over this, just as I had no one to grieve with when they killed Saddam Hussein, and before that when you first went to war with Afghanistan and Iraq.  I wish so much that I did, and I wish it could be you.  And your shouting weather woman who shouts so provocatively then talks about things being quiet, she and the others who do what she does, newsreaders and all, are hateful devils full of contempt.  I think Peter Dobby just said we can get the BBC World news in America, and I think that isn’t true.  And he just said took in the Bulgarian way, for here, that they often do.  Why don’t you just take a knife and carve bits out of my heart with it?  It’s violent and indecent.

It’s 9.26 pm UK time, 11.26 here, and suddenly everything is sweetness and light, Royal family and classical music, and Libya doesn’t exist anymore.  It is completely disorientating.  What is going on here?  This is violent brainwashing, and disorientation. I’m not sure what Ghita, another presenter, has to do with the weather forecast.  This is witchcraft.

I’m afraid, really afraid, that my neighbours might hurt me.  They are getting as close as they can, hammering on my ceiling like that, so violently, so contemptuously, even when I’m asleep.  And commenting every time I cough or any other sound is heard to escape from my body.  Forgive me being so specific, but I need you to understand how this feels.  I also wish that, instead of just reading, you would act responsibly.  I know people read, it is in my statisitics, including the posts that are read and how many times.  Yet most of the time you don’t coment or do anything, and if you did you might penalise me by going to mental health people instead of dealing with the perpetrators. The churches I have mentioned refer to the material on my blog all the time, and do nothing.  So does everyone else, but the thing is, the church does, and not only does it stand back, it takes part in the stalking.  Someone did it back to Bruce Atkinson two Sunday nights ago.  I think from what I saw they began to get the message.  But no one showed any reaction to the incident that I was aware of, until after I watched my recording a week later, last Sunday afternoon, then in the evening Nottingham Christian Centre was all of a flutter, so I suppose they were hacking my computer to know that I had seen it finally, or they found out from somewhere.  I think I had seen it in time for the 2.30 pm service at Kensington Temple, because that is when I think I saw them react.

I told the estate agents I thought my neighbours were going to the media and taking money instead of going to the police, because of what I’m hearing from BBC World News, specifics about what is happening here and how I react.  I told them what is happening in the media and what has been happening for years, including my time here.  One of the presenters on the BBC World News was speaking really sweetly then escalated to loud and aggressive and driving, and as they did my neighbour from upstairs hammered on my ceiling, and when I shouted back he hammered again, and when I kept going he hammered again, and he won’t go to the police, although I’ve suggested he should, even if angrily, and the man on now, 5.38 pm UK time, is doing all the subtle word substitutions and talking about schitz.  These are evil savages, both those in the studio co-operating, and it is obviously knowingly, and those doing the driving and the cut offs behind them.

I’m afraid my neighbours might try to hurt me.  I’ve made it clear that I believe they are talking to the media and taking money.  I feel stupid, but I also feel afraid to go out.

I can’t contact my landlord, and I know the police and the British Embassy don’t respond.  I’ve done all that as well.  And the media – soft, purring, presumptuous, alternated with violent and aggressive, swine.

BBC World News have been clawing at me all afternoon.  Brainwashing with violence.  There was a programme made up of emails, I think, which did a role call of many significant names in my life, with no exceptions I was aware of, they were all significant, and they ended with my own name.  Weekend World.  I can’t contact my landlord.

People say and do atrocious things, regularly, deliberately, knowingly, routinely, knowing they are wrong, then they do it again, because that’s what they do, but suddenly they don’t want it to have the effect that it does and they apologise, for someone’s hearing, if not for the hearing of the people they have offended.  Names and pack drill, I have the Robert Elms programme yesterday, and every day, in mind, at least on this occasion.  The cheek by jowl set up.  But it could be the rest of the media, or church, or politics.  All of those industries.  That is all they are.

The thing is, they have no intention of stopping permanently.  That is how their industry works, the most injurious, demeaning, subliminal, verbal assaults.  So sorry, but what does sorry mean?  Nothing, except that, this time, we want something and can’t afford to offend you, or someone else hearing what we are doing.  I feel sorry for him.  I think he probably means well.

I love you guys, but sorry means nothing if you don’t intend to change.  Stop what you do, as an act of policy stop it, please, or stop saying sorry when you do it and it happens not to fit what you want to achieve on that particular occasion or someone exposes it.

I hope we understand each other. Any quistions (sic), do let me know.

I’m Sue Barnett.  Now let squet (skit) the weather.

They are so violent, they make me feel violent.  I know I speak for many.  Some people, as we know, act it out.  The full extent of my acting out is yelling, which is always misguided, because people continue without regard, and really I’m the only person that gets hurt.  I’m on my own and, because people involved professionally refuse to communicate with me constantly feeling not quite secure.  At least these people have their families, the partner or the gang they go around in.

But I’m glad I said what I said yesterday.  Now, if it wasn’t the case before, what they do will be more obvious to some people than it was.

I was just thinking, they use strings of names and references from my life and adopt a tone of entitlement to do it, as if they are doing it in co-operation with the people concerned, and that is where many of my guilt feelings come from when I don’t respond.

Today there was a little string – Mardi Fish – a tennis player, but also we say mardy in Nottingham to talk about people grizzling and crying and being miserable, and that was immediately followed up by the names Adams and Baddeley, two male teachers from my secondary school in Nottingham.

With some of the details they sometimes use, it appears that they are working in co-operation with people from my school life, whoever they are.  This little string was in the sports report.

When all this started for me the church, or at least Kensington Temple, was talking a lot about witchcraft, and I thought they meant me.  Maybe they didn’t, but I thought they did.  That’s why I was so upset, partly.  At the same time there was a tennis player called Goran Ivanisovich.  Sounds like ‘even he’s a witch’.  I heard a radio presenter say that much later, and I had thought it myself when I first heard it, in hospital, and it freaked me.

By the way, I’m still talking about BBC World News.  The time now is 11.08, UK time, which is the time people will need if they want to check this out, if they can get access to the tapes.

I don’t want to play this game with them and I don’t want to validate it.  I have been desperate enough myself.  There are others who are made even more desperate by it, if that is possible.

I saw a rcorded TV programme recently, it might have been in the “How Television Has Ruined Your life’ series on the BBC.  Whatever it was, the presenter was saying that the media uses shock tactics to keep people watching, because people are psychologically wired to give their attention to what appears to be a threat to their safety.

Charlie Wolf, when he was on Talksport, used to say he was pleased if people hated him because that meant they would keep listening. That is still how they do it, on a really wide scale.  But mixed with stalking, and obviously it becomes sinister and lethal, sometimes literally lethal.  They set out to sound violent or otherwise objectionable.  For me I find there is an element of not quite being able to believe what I am hearing or seeing, and a landing place of satisfaction is carefully avoided, so you can’t quite disengage.  Sometimes they make you feel as if you should and that they think you should, but I think it is a double bluff trick.

Just now as I was thinking clearly to write this, the presenter said he just wanted to take us back, almost in a hypnotherapy tone.  I can remember when this approach was first adopted and perpetrated.  There was a deliberate decision made, a few years ago, to adopt the language and intonation of therapy.

He just used ‘tweet’ as in Twitter, which I find always coincides with any fluency of thinking close to speech that I feel.  He just talked down from it to a stop.  Another dissonance, another contradiction.  I find it offensive. maybe it’s just me.  And I am sure there must be some sort of spiritualism involved for this to be happening.

Maybe it is just the violence of the shouting.  Now the presenter of the World Business Report is doing it.  It sounds obviously put on.

The news presenter before him – I think his name is Adam – was saying something about ‘you don’t have to be called Aron to work here, but it helps’, and he said it in such a way I thought and am sure he was referring to the time that I told Tommy Boyd, in his car, that I thought what he had said was arrogant.  He said he had a lot to be arrogant about.  Maybe we have a different understanding of the word, because i think it is a negative trait and he appeared not to.

Aron is back with the sports report, 11.45 am UK time.  He has just mentioned James Pearce.  My form teacher at the school I just mentioned in connection with the other names was called Clive Pearce.  I remember him to have been a very nice and kind person.  Straight after James pearce was mentioned Aron started talking in accented sympathetic and sad tones about people now being in danger of not qualifying.  The weather girl just appeared to stutter with the word ‘mock’.

But they keep going.  They make you feel stupid for saying it, or they look so hurt they make you feel guilty.

David Edes is on.  he was stressing for the first time that i have heard, that his programme is about opinion as well as news.  I thought he was getting at me.  At the same time they showed a report with footage about Guantanamo Bay, and the blocks didn’t look too bad and a staff member was saying conditions are much better, but there were blocks we couldn’t see for security reasons.

There must be something wrong in my head, or in the presentation, or something, because I was thinking it didn’t look too bad and Julian Assange might be OK there.  If I’m that broken down that I’m thinking that I think there must be a lot wrong on a lot of levels.  David Edes is sounding strict and disciplinarian.  I’m not sure who his tone is aimed at or what it is meant to achieve.

I am being psychologically attacked from every side.  Every time I do something different in my apartment, the woman upstairs shouts and they bang.  The whole situation, including with the media, is literally taking my oxygen and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts and I can’t cope.

On top of that, today I am watching Nik Gowing on ‘The Hub’ on BBC World News, and just as I began to get my breath, at exactly the moment, he banged on his desk.  He does this a lot, but until this incident I hadn’t seen him do it today.  His body language is very violent, so is his speech, and I believe it is deliberate, and has been as long as I have been aware of him, which is several months.  They all do it, Peter Dobby is at it now, and they have a laugh in their voices as they do it.

You don’t have to take my word for it.  If you don’t already watch them, I suggest you should start and see for yourselves.  Not just today, but consistently.  I hope you will.  It might help me if they know other people are watching this with intelligence and awareness.  I can’t take it.  I shouldn’t have to.  It’s deliberate, it’s evil, it’s mockery, and now they are coming on so jovial and stuff, you just want to hit them, don’t you?  Yes you do, it’s natural.  You don’t do it, either because you can’t or because you have self-control.  But you want to.  Because they are so violent and evil.

I want them dead.  They are playing the ‘bait and switch’ game.  I want them dead.  That’s how they want me to feel.  And they want me to say it, as I have, and they want my readers to think it is me that is dangerous, because I have a mental health diagnosis. At the very least they use that fear to keep me under control.

I’m afraid.  They are really hurting me.  I’m sure that is what they want.  They are having a laugh, and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts.

When I first started typing this, Nik Gowing’s voice took on a note of appeal.  It’s gone now.  I wonder if he was aware that I was typing this post?  Past experience tells me he probably was, and I hope he continues to expose himself, because he is really thuggish and evil.

 Edit note 6.07 pm UK time:

Someone said a little while ago to keep up with the dissonances.  I know it is deliberate.  The apparent stuttering is also deliberate.  Notice what the mistaken and half-finished words are, when it happens.

Tanya Beckett was on not long ago, doing the cat act, which has also been agreed.  She looks a lot like Jeni Barnett who is now on BBC Radio London and used to be on LBC 97.3 FM.  I’m sure Ms Beckett must know that.  On LBC they also have, or used to have, other people named the same as me and my neighbours in London.

But just before I started this note Peter Dobby said ‘are’ the same way as they did on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, with the same emphasis and hesitation, and in the same way that Tommy Boyd used to say it on his programme when he said, ‘I can make you say ‘ah’, and he was talking about an energy point or Chakra point or something like that, just below the navel.  He (Peter Dobby) followed it up with, ‘no more protests’, as if he was giving an instruction or a rebuke, looking intently and almost querulously at the camera as if he is looking for someone and knowing, I believe, that what he has said is something associated with Tommy Boyd, and I believe he knows it is true for me.  He then said the name ‘Christian’ almost as if he was spitting it out in hatred and disdain.

As I started the last paragraph he said a different sentence with the same emphasised pause, then he immediately went into a rushing river of words. They do this a lot as well, and I believe deliberately, and because I know that I find it more dislocating than other people might, but they probably experience the same thing to a lesser degree.  I think they are affecting the charismatic/pentecostal activity of speaking in tongues, it’s a deliberate imitation.

They are also mixing my stuff together with sentences they insist on like, ‘the police have been told to go in and to use force’, and it’s making me think that that instruction has been given concerning me, because I have said in this blog, even today, that that has happened to me before.  It is completely covert to people who do not know, and they keep a poker face throughout.  It is very, very unkind and savage.  It is partly why I am having so many painful stress symptoms, apart from the harassment or at the very least insensitivity to other people’s privacy that I’m getting from my neighbours.  I’m obviously afraid – as you can see, I am feeling obliged to compromise my communication of what I believe I know.  It’s psycholinguistic torture – brainwashing and control, if you like.  I’m frightened.  If the Bulgarian police do come, I hope they are sympathetic and will help me on my terms.  I hope they haven’t been told to come in and use force.  I haven’t checked my email over the last few hours, but the last time I looked I still hadn’t had any answers to the emails I sent to the British Embassy and my housing association, which they asked me for.  They deliberately, I am sure, do everything they can to sound as if they are vomiting and gagging up, apart from everything else, and it is savage and insulting and deliberately provocative.  They put their faces up at the cameras and their whole attitude is saying, ‘what are you going to do about it?’  They follow one pattern of speech for about 10 seconds, then switch to another completely opposite.  They are the world’s rubbish and shouldn’t have any hand in the news or location work where there is unrest.  I can’t stop them, I wish I could.  I know it’s deliberate and so do others.  And people like Premier Radio make it worse, because they retaliate, that was what got me in the first place, taking their retaliation to the secular media onto myself and thinking it was aimed at me.  Was it?  I’m not sure.  But the secular media still has no excuse.

I’ve wondered about the way they are saying ‘Bahrain’, with the glottal stop.  Because David Cameron let fly at Ed Miliband with a glottal stop in Prime Minister’s Question Time yesterday, and I’m thinking it might have been connected.   Ed replied or retaliated with, ‘the man (or the one) who made the tree’ and the tone was religious.  This happens a lot.  I heard a female MP during their broadcast recently say that this government doesn’t talk straight, it talks in code.  That wasn’t me, that was an MP.  But I believe she is right.

I think media people vocally affect pain as well, and so do people in Parliament.  To victims of their stalking who have real and legitimate pain, this is very offensive and provocative.  The croaky, cracking voices and everything.  It’s almost as if they feel it momentarily and deliberately seek to express it vocally because they like the fact that they feel it, it’s a feeling to be proud of.  It hurts me so much because I have been taken in by it for so long, and I think that gives them pleasure to know I understand that and they want to increase the pain I feel.  Their rushing, aggressive speech – OMG.  I really believe they are deliberately trying to make violent, harsh and coarse speech and speech patterns the acceptable thing.  Unless, as I said, I’m just privileged to have heard people like Michael Mish.  But I don’t think it is just that.  They also play with early cut-offs.  I’ve just remembered that because they have just played an advert that does exactly that, and I’ve noticed it before, it always cuts off early.  Cats are never cut off, any hint of refinement and culture is, if it seems genuine.  They go soft and intimate then immediately go into almost yelling things like ‘very disturbing’, like the sports reporter just did (6.50 pm UK time).  It’s psychological terrorism.  And it’s deliberate and criminal, whether it is the media, the politicians or the church.  It seems like a deliberately affected, constant ebb and flow of tone and content.  It’s a wall of words, and is intended to be a wall, and impenetrable.

They have been talking for a while, with a tone of significance, hesitation and almost derisive humour, about objects controlled by thought as well.  I repeat, all of this I am writing today are just a very few examples of what they do constantly.

Zeinab Bedawi is the same.  In fact, I might as well stop naming people (which is easy now I have swtiched off their provocation).  Zeinab Bedawi is the person on now, but they all do it.  I don’t think it is just tiredness and the pressure of the job, I think it is a deliberate stream of anger, hatred, contempt and defiance, even when it seems humorous, and the hope and assumption seems to be that if they all do it no one can challenge them.  For some of them at least it thinly veils fear.

Greg Dyke, the old director of the BBC until 2007, was on Newsnight last night.  In view of my last few posts, at least, please check out his embarrassed and guilty body language.

I get embarrassed about the time I waste or have stolen from me trying to deal with this, because the defiance continues and I think they love it.

But in some ways the worst thing is the Bulgarians.  For 14 months now, when I speak, every time my voice starts to become strong they start imposing their own voices.  Even in this block, it’s like a deliberate vocal struggle.  Apart from the man next door who banged sharply on my wall after only my 2nd day here, that’s what started it.  They yell first thing in the morning, and yell again in intimidating anger last thing at night, and comment at every sound they hear from my apartment, apart from which they are silent most of the time.  Do I yell back?  Yes, of course I do, I’m human and I get desperate, especially when it is so invasive.  That is when they descend into absolute silence, unless strength comes into my voice and then they ride it.  I wasn’t here under official communism, I still wonder if it was one of the torture techniques used.  Or if it is plain, gross stupidity and idiocy.

People like Colin Dye at Kensington Temple I detest, because he takes things like this and throws it back at me, with all the cut throat trickery he knows from his media experience.

I can’t stand it.  It’s like keep going at her until she shouts, then go silent unless you hear ‘that voice’, then ride it.  I feel really sick and I think they are going to try and arrest me under the mental health act.

Someone came this afternoon.  I didn’t answer the door, I was afraid.  I was typing as well.  I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I wasn’t legally obliged to answer the door.  They rang once and went away.  I was convinced it was the police.  Then I realised that I really didn’t have any idea who it was.  And if it had been someone who only spoke Bulgarian, whoever they were, and they were angry and forceful. . .   Most people would say that as a single woman in a situation like this it was probably best not to answer the door.  As it is I’m frightened that one of my neighbours will come out one day and hurt me.  But at the very least I am constantly embarrassed, and I was in pain as well.

I still believe everything I have said in the rest of this post.  And my chest still hurts.  And so does my stomach.  And I feel sick and afraid.  I know what I have had to deal with in the past, at least with my housing association.  Maybe also with the British Embassy.  I’m physically sick with the stress.  I’m not mentally ill.  Stress is not a mental illness, especially when dealing with something like this.

I went to Billa two days ago.  One of the workers there, a blonde man, came up and positioned himself beside me and started talking and yelling aggressively.  When I tried to complain to someone who was called who spoke English, and my voice developed strength and direction, the man started to shout over me again.  Not at me, but over me, as if he was calling out against me.  I’ve had that numerous times here.  There appears to be no point trying to challenge it.  I don’t think anyone wants to listen.  I think they would rather lock me away and make me take drugs for schizophrenia, than deal with other people’s behaviour towards me.  I’m frightened and I feel dishonest.  People, including my politicians, have postured as trying to help me, subliminally, and now I think they are turning the tables on me.  But because it has been coded and subliminal I can’t prove anything.  I almost feel as if this time I’m going to die or really lose my mind or something.  That something is going to be done to me which will destroy me.  I can’t do hospital, the nurses shout and hammer on doors, and I’m a vegan, and my stomach hurts.  I’m terrified and feel like passing out.  If they come at me with drugs, after all this, I swear I’ll go mad.  God help me, don’t let them hurt me.  Not anymore, please.  You are my only help.  If someone comes at me without You, they come at me with no ability to help.

One of the nurses on the ward, Simon, if he started getting tearful and upset, he would make a big, loud and inaccessible joke of it and talk about ‘filling up’, instead of stopping to examine his feelings and why he was feeling them.  I asked him about it once.  He fobbed it off, communicated something to the others then a little while later deliberately reimposed it in his conversation.  I’m scared to go back to that.  I feel as if my back is breaking.  Please don’t anyone make me go back to that.  And they don’t even cater for a vegan diet, at all.  But if they decide that’s what they want to do to me, they won’t care about that and will treat me as a nuisance.  I saw it with someone else.  They mocked her for what she called her ‘food allergies’, she had to buy food for herself, and if she felt ill and in pain, which was often, they bullied her, constantly and unashamedly complaining about her and telling her off.

At one point I seemed to be getting on well and normally with people on the ward, including one older lady, and Simon said quite openly, ‘we’ve got to get it back’, but he wasn’t talking to us, just for us, or me, to hear, so it seemed.  One day he did what I had never seen him do, he came and sat silently in the day room, where there was just me and this woman.  He sat at the table at the other end, apparently reading a newspaper, and he didn’t say hello or anything, and he sat there for ages, apparently listening to the conversation, but never contributing to it or doing or saying anything to be polite and acknowledge us.  I found it intimidating and upsetting and offensive, and when our relationship broke down he didn’t do it anymore.  He did it a couple of times at least.  His presence was so imposing without him acknowledging us or what he was doing that it made the conversation strained.

I once wanted some music on in the day room, I didn’t normally because it was Christian and I didn’t want to impose it on everyone else.  But I didn’t have my CD player, it had been taken for ‘electrical checking’ which was normal procedure, so I decided that, since everyone else played their music in there, I could play mine as well.  The girl with the food allergies came in and said she wanted to play something else, and when I said I wanted to listen to mine she found fault with it and said it wasn’t even good quality Christian music (that it could at least have been good Gospel music, but it was Vineyard style, or Noel Richards, which is not so loud in style, it’s in many ways more laid back and less ‘in your face’ and aggressive) and she started finding fault with Christianity and shouting and arguing.  A few minutes later she said to Simon that I was a control freak.  Simon said ‘tell me about it!’  I had never played my music in the day room until then, and she just wanted me to take it off.  But I didn’t see why I should have to.  It might have been a kind thing to do, or not, but I didn’t want to have to back down all the time and there was nowhere else I could play it.

What I am saying is, I don’t want to go back to that, and to the staff engaging in that kind of prejudice against me.  And as a vegan (which just means ‘strict vegetarian’, no animal products, there are plenty of other excellent options) I don’t want to be locked up in a hospital with no way to get what I need, which I would have to buy myself because they don’t cater for the diet, and it wouldn’t be cooked in meal form, because the cooker that used to be there was taken away for security reasons and they won’t do it for you.  That is no existence for someone you insist is ill and needs to be treated on your terms and not their own.

Yes, I over-react to things sometimes.  Yes, I make a mountain out of a molehill sometimes.  But not always.  And anyone else having to deal with the same pressures and treatment from officials they are dependent on might do exactly the same thing.  We are like animals under observation and naughty children to be dealt with accordingly, and behind those doors, particularly, they are very open about that and make no effort to hide their attitudes towards us.  That includes the psychiatrists themselves.  They will glower and tease and contradict, and if I became hysterically angry one of them would get angry at me for shouting and say he was going to have me arrested.

I know there are people in the media who will love using this against me.  That’s why my communication is messed up.  Basically no one acknowledges anything I say until I am pushed into crisis, then they descend on me in force and lock me up.  Not only what I say on this blog, but what I say in emails as well, even ones they have asked me for.  While I know that other people acknowledge what is happening and recognise it, as soon as I feel I have reason to be afraid I am going to get a police visit under the mental health act I forget all that and feel very isolated and afraid.  Suddenly my anger and certainty means nothing, because they can just invalidate it in the taking of my freedom.  They present later as not having wanted to do that and having needed to do it for my own safety (or that of others) so it makes me feel my anger and certainty are the problem.  The authorities certainly give the impression that they think so.  They call it paranoia.

People like to make a big thing out of saying you shouldn’t call people evil.  I don’t know if it hurts their feelings or not, but if it does that is all it does.  If they call people psychotic and dangerous, without proof and having got their facts wrong (but if we say so they call us liars and devious), the consequences for us are far worse.  So if we give it back, even believing it is true but embarrassed because we can just as easily, a few hours later, decide it isn’t true – if they can do what they do and we, I, do what I do, why should I be penalised for it, when no one really cares or acts on what I say anyway, while they can call me dangerous and psychotic and take away my freedom and abuse me behind closed doors?  If that is going to happen again, it isn’t right and it never has been.

I don’t want to go back to a situation where I am bullied and neglected by a social landlord when I’m also getting it from the community.  It freezes my thinking.  At least here, if I believed I was safe from these people in the UK, I could think a little bit.  Although I vent on here, my emotions and the pain in my mind are nowhere near as great as they are in London.  Maybe that is why I feel more physical pain.

If it was the police earlier, I still don’t know what they wanted and who sent them.  They might not have come to arrest me under the mental health act, and all of this fear and trauma might be unnecessary.  It has been caused by lack of appropriate official communication.  But maybe they think it is appropriate to keep me in the dark if they intend to arrest me, and just keep turning up and one day force entry.  Maybe they are afraid I will abscond and they want to keep the upper hand and the element of surprise and uncertainty.  That’s what they normally do.  No one is talking to me, just banging and shouting and commenting, and officially I don’t know what is happening.  I have been handled this way for years, and it contributes to the anger I bring to everything else.  I’m constantly nervous and afraid, and I bottle it up for so long until I’ve had enough and vent in anger.  People around me do it at me.  I shouldn’t be singled out as the problem.

My fear of police violence here is offset by my own shame that I am not able to understand their language and culture.  As always, I think all of this is my responsibility.  However bad people are to me, I think it is my fault for not understanding.  I feel that way with everyone.  And I think that if only I would acknowledge my own wrong doing then everything would be all right for me and none of this would happen.  That if I would recognise their official responsibilities and cut them some slack things would go better for me.  But I’ve tried that and been ignored, repeatedly, and now it feels as if they are saying, ‘just this one step further’ and I feel guilty, and at the same time I have been accused of things I have never done.  They have the ability to make me feel guilty for what I feel is my lack of response.  They lift things off my computer.  I really believe that.

Someone on The Daily Politics or Newsnight yesterday said that the Coalition is doing things with indecent haste, and I have heard people say that about them before.  In this case the man said that what should normally take 6 months is being passed in 11 weeks.  He put it down to the deficit crisis. But at the same time he called it ‘indecent haste’.  I wonder what the shortcuts and evasions are that are involved in such a truncation.  Indecent haste.  I’ve had that for years.  I do believe media people’s speech is deliberately aggressive and that that is why I am having trouble communicating.  The aggression is behind the hospital doors as well.  If I’m supposed to be ill I don’t want to be there, I want some peace and quiet and space to think, not drugs forced on me by people who do nothing to hide their fear and contempt, when all is said and done, and even before all is said and done.  Someone please listen to me and honour that.

I’ve just updated this, it is 5.15 am on Friday morning.  As soon as I pressed the update button there was a bang from upstairs, like a chair clattering or something.  At this time in the morning that might be reasonable. But it is the constant coincidence of this kind of thing, given everything else, which really terrifies me and freaks me out.  The psychiatrists call it ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think they used to call it that as well when they would see me weighing up in my mind what I was experiencing and hearing with them compared with what I heard in church and read in the Bible.  Especially if the difference, and thinking the church was involved in what was happening to me, freaked me out, they would say that I seemed to be responding to ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think on the whole I have to become more secure and smile when I feel afraid, instead of giving in to the fear.  I’m sure it would make life much easier, at least while I don’t have the TV or radio on.

https://suebarnett.wordpress.com/2011/01/08/i-followed-a-search/

This is a link to a post I wrote a while ago, about something called Monarch Mind Control.  I refer you to it to help you understand the rest of this post.  Included in that post is a link to an interview on Youtube between two very high profile people in America, one of whom was a special agent in charge of a police department.

The issue of Monarch Mind Control has come up for me again after watching the House of Commons broadcast yesterday. 

I have said before that I have been accused of paedophilia, although I am not a paedophile.  Yesterday Theresa May was talking about changes and appeals processes, and even before she got up to speak I was thinking that what had gone before seemed to be adopting a popularist stance.  I noticed that Nick Clegg was close to tears, and I noticed that, as in so many times in the past, David Cameron came in focusing and shutting everything out and down as much as he was able, and when I see that I find it frightening.  That the Prime Minister needs to focus in that way, in Parliament, before his electorate.  I feel that saying this could be to my harm and embarrassment, because it occurs to me in writing that he might have my safety and welfare in mind, at least in part.

Speaking of popularism, listening to Theresa May I believed she was doing the same thing, going for a projected popularist view.  The reason I say ‘projected’ is that I believe most of us are far more human and compassionate in our approach to this issue, especially those of us who have the slightest hint of understanding of the psychology of abuse, which should be most of us.  She presented herself as speaking for all right minded people, but as far as I am concerned she was appealing to the vigilante element of society, and her approach to the subject was in line with that.  She said that the judges who insisted that the human rights and privacy of people tagged and hated in this way were paramount were out of touch with the rest of us.  I, obviously, disagree.  She also said that the final decision in the appeals process on this issue was not for the courts, but for the police who, she said, were best placed to make this decision as being in touch.  That frightened me and I started thinking in terms of a police state.  Clearly I am speaking with heavy sarcasm and irony when I say that of course the police have always been squeaky clean and whiter than white and perfect models of humanity who have never harmed anyone and never acted with prejudice and never perverted the course of justice and never set anyone up or bullied anyone or consented to their bullying.  These are obviously the best people to handle such a sensitive issue (sarcasm and irony maintained).  I believe I have an idea of how long they were holding this accusation against me before I even knew about it, and how long they stood by, in spite of my complaints of harassment, and let people get on with it. That also goes for my housing association and the mental health authorities.

The issue of Monarch Mind Control came up for me again because there was something I didn’t understand about the presentation.  Then I remembered the interview in the post I have provided the link for, where the woman being interviewed said that, as far as she knew, it went back as far as her father.

I know, I am painfully aware, that this could be complete coincidence, but the dress she was wearing was identical in style and colours to a coat my father bought me when I was little. I can’t remember how old I actually was, but he died when I was 11.  He overdosed on sleeping tablets.  I don’t know if it was his intention to die, he didn’t say in his note, and he had done the same thing before and survived.

But Theresa May’s dress was almost identical.  And she was standing there adopting an almost vigilante attitude towards sex offenders, dripping with hate, contempt and loathing, it seemed to me, and saying how devious they are (they say the same about people they call mentally ill, it is or was part of the training for mental health professionals to view mental health patients as devious), downplaying if not completely invalidating the role of the courts over this issue, saying that parliament makes the laws, not the courts (but I say the courts uphold the law and no one is exempt from the law, including parliamentarians, as we have seen, thankfully, but if they are able to invalidate the courts, and cut us off, as Europeans, from the European Court of Human Rights, which they are saying they want to do [whether or not that is just a decoy talking point without teeth to distract from more important issues we are not talking about I don’t know, it’s one of the things they’ve always managed to talk about for years], how are they going to be held accountable?).  These lovely parliamentarians, calling groups devious and inciting hatred against them, you would think they had never done a devious thing in their lives, except me thinks the lady doth protest too much.

If the coat and the dress are not a coincidence but deliberate, why? I’ve already contacted people and asked to talk and not been acknowledged, so why would they want to do something like that?  They teamed it all up, as well, with talk about mental health.  It doesn’t matter what they are trying to say, when someone has already asked for assistance they shouldn’t be using those methods.  And if it was deliberate and they have known all along, then presumably it has been handed down to them over the years, and the government or whoever it was that had this knowledge that has been used in this way stood by and watched my father, with all his personal pain and inadequacy and lack of access to this kind of mass communication tool, insist that this was happening to him and being treated as mentally ill and in the end killing himself.  My dad.  My daddy, as I called him at the time and still think of him.  11 years old.  A younger brother and sister as well.  Whatever kind of person he was, it was wrong for something like this to be done to him and to me and to our family.  It is just as wrong for it to continue.  That is what I believe.  The one question I am afraid of is, ‘am I right?’  Am I right to believe this is wrong?  It might be good, kind governmental wisdom, and it might be better for me to go with it.  That is how I feel.

They were laughing a lot yesterday, which seemed to me completely inappropriate when handling such a serious and painful issue, but which also made me feel as if the arms of love and acceptance were being opened and offered to me, and a place of refuge, safety and protection and reconciliation.

I’m vulnerable to this kind of approach, at this particular point, because I had a bad experience in hospital last week when I was taken ill with severe stress related symptoms.  I was later contacted by the British Embassy and asked to confirm that I was OK, and I recounted the experience and everything involved in the stress that brought it on and asked for a reply, but I didn’t get one.  That was on Friday.  I want to say the Consul’s name, but people talk about discretion, and say if you are indiscrete and other people involved with you know that, they will not trust you.  I don’t know if, in my situation, discretion should be demanded of me or not.  What about me and my ability to trust?  But I don’t think officials should be subjected to vigilantism any more than anyone else should.  But this has gone so far, and I can’t afford legal representation, but I’m afraid if I mention his name on this forum anyway it might disqualify me for future help, either from the embassy’s own complaints procedure or from the law.  I don’t know what to do, because they themselves are acting illegally, it seems to me, and certainly if I don’t say his name the opportunity to move in on me again might be used.  It’s not a personal thing, I like him, at least to some extent, it’s about my own security in this situation.  I don’t know how to protect myself other than by naming him, but if I do that also might go against me, maybe even more long term.  I don’t know how it works.

On Monday (St Valentine’s Day) my housing association contacted me.  My housing association has often decided not to answer my emails and to set things in motion without consulting with me to have me apprehended under the mental health act.  The people who turn up unannounced often look appalled and apprehensive about me, and also are often very aggressive and insistent in their approach, and have even been violent and scathing, without me even knowing the specifics of why they are there.  So I replied to this person, my housing officer, Andy Minett at Hexagon Housing Association in Sydenham, made my position clear, reminded him of how he had handled things in the past and had often seen fit not to answer my emails but to go behind my back and over my head and not help effectively with community bullying and harassment, and I asked him not to resort to force or coersion but to inform me of his intentions because I believe I have a legal right to be informed.  I aksed him to clarify a few things, and as yet neither he nor anyone else from the housing association has contacted me.  Also, while I think of it, I have copied my emails on to the mental health team at Speedwell in Deptford, and they also do not acknowledge my emails, and I am afraid they are standing by and trying to force a crisis.  I asked for a response to one of them, through my CPN, from my psychiatrist, and although the CPN, Susan Farmer, said she had passed the email on to him, I have never received a response.

In this situation, and with these two most recent emails unacknowledged, on Tuesday evening someone rang my doorbell from downstairs and said what sounded like an Italianisation of my name.  I immediately thought it was the police and I was frightened, and I told him I spoke English and didn’t understand him, which was over all the truth, although not the issue for me at the time.  He said ‘OK’, and went, and I haven’t heard anything since.  But I was frightened and still am.  He came unannounced and unexpected, I didn’t know who had sent him or why, and I don’t think it should have happened that way.  I think that is really wrong. I’m afraid they might come back with instructions to arrest me under the mental health act.  But whose unprofessionalism and negligence is creating my fear and stress in the first place?  I think I could and can say ‘whose secrecy?’ and not be wrong in this case.

I’m tired now.  I might add more later, but right now if there was somewhere else I intended to go with this or something else I intended to say, I can’t remember.

Intermediate edit note: I’m recording Premier, and at the beginning John Pantry played a song called ‘Everything Was Done So You Would Come’, and he back announced it with tears in his voice.  He then moved on immediately to pray a prayer which sounded to me, in this context, as if he was instructing decision makers on how to pray and how to feel and how to view what they have done.  I obviously might be wrong, but it isn’t my opinion that I am, and if I am right I still think they are wrong to be doing this.  I still maintain it is stalking.  And I still maintain it is deceiving most of their audience.

BBC World News

It is 11.42 am here, 9.42 am in the UK

I was just watching BBC World News, and they were up to their usual tricks.  Squawking porcelain skinned blonde girl ending up with ‘that is how it is for some people’, and me thinking that’s what I said, but it is true for me and not for her, or at the very least it is true for the people I live among, while she has probably chosen to live among privileged people, if she has had that all her life or not. A very aggressive, angry cat indeed.  Interestingly enough, it was followed up by a very peaceful scene of a mother big cat (lion or something) suckling her cub, and I felt really angry and upset because of what seemed to me deliberate jarring and provocation.

The Indian girl who was doing the main report, just before Hardtalk, ended up with a story and adopted a strict, telling off, disciplinarian tone to say the decision had been taken in order to protect the crew, and she used exactly the same tone with a hard stare to say immediately afterwards, ‘This is BBC World News’.

I’m upset, OK?  Everyone knows that, they know there is good reason, and they carry on regardless, don’t change and do nothing to help.  So me, I change quickly, normally, if I believe I am wrong.  That is how my heart works.  It’s working that way now.  I’m not only afraid of reprisals for what I’m about to say, but I also feel like backing off from it because I believe I might be wrong to say it.

However, in light of the fact that these people don’t change and don’t operate that way, and in light of the fact that they keep patching this incitement and intimidation together, and in light of the fact that they have been using me and my family for years, knowing what is happening to us and the effect it has had on us as individuals and as a family, I am now saying that if they are trying to say that the decision to stalk us was taken to protect themselves (there was obviously some significance in the way she rounded this off), I am now saying, and I call on people to witness this, that I am now asking God to remove their protection. I personally find what they have done and are doing disgusting and disgraceful and very distressing, so does my sister, and my brother was somehow roped into a documentary interview following a murder inquiry in Nottingham and they keep using and abusing him as well (a comedian on one of the cookery programmes last weekend is just one example, either Something for the Weekend or Saturday Kitchen, it started off with sea urchins and ended up with this comedian doing my brother to a tee and going on like a moron, which my brother is not, he is just as traumatised by all this and other things as we all are).  I love my brother.  I just feel tears in my stomach when I think about him.  So personally I find it disgusting and disgraceful, as I have said, as well as still maintaining that it is completely illegal.  And I am praying for the removal of their protection, and believing God for it to happen in the Name of Jesus.

There you are, now they will call me fanatical and dangerous and increase the mental health angle attack.  Just keep watching, and wait and see.

PS I have to stop believing that, because these ladies appear in perfect make up, underneath it all they are lovely, reasonable people who just want to help.  They are not.  If they were they would use the right legal channels, and they don’t.

Dear Clyde Sandry

You can go off people, you know!

I’ve just listened to most of your sermon this Sunday, and you are using words you have somehow got from my recent communications with other people and off the back of them you are shouting at me.  “Dearth”, for instance, is one of those words, which I used in an email to someone whose spirituality would be abhorrent to you.

If I had really understood before what I believe I understand now, I could have resisted you awful, monstrous impressions of Christians years ago.

You are using my love against me, and are trying to force me for some reason to take a path, even though you have used the law against me, that does not resolve my situation through the proper application of the law which has become necessary through your own actions with regard to me.

David Shearman, since my mid teens, has treated me as a thing loathed and despised.  I knew no better than to keep trying to win his love and approval, hoping one day I would be impressive enough for him.  I used to think, at least 90%, that if I came to church driving a nice car and looking in control of my life, I might have a bit of a chance of something.

If these people have somehow been persuaded to pass my emails on to you and to treat me as you have historically treated me yourselves, then all of you, normally having no time for each other’s spirituality, have come together to force/control/exclude/invalidate me, and that, if it is true in any detail, is disgusting of all of you.

You know how much I long for a kind and loving touch.  You must do, you seem to have access to my communications.  I want to tell you, in your 1950’s attire and mimicking what you have heard of me on the phone in years gone by before you even start to speak (William Lee does the same thing), you are monstrous dogs and I hope I somehow manage to recover what is left of my life and to live without you.

You are complete moral cowards.  You throw reminders of my childhood at me that you seem to have gathered from my family somehow (how did you persuade them?), all the time knowing I just want to be contacted and spoken to normally and told what you want, but you either will not or dare not take that route, and keep piling the pressure on me until my health and confidence are breaking down.

Although I feel inclined to beg, given the material you have been using, I wish to completely disassociate myself from all the methods you are using to put pressure on me and force a response.  I can’t see why you need to hide in this way.

My only access to you is through legal means.  Yours is riddled with illegality.

If David Shearman’s sermon last Sunday was preached last Sunday, why does he say in it that he has been speaking to his father, who died two years ago?

I can’t fight you, you are too strong for me, both in number and in your ability to use years of love, hope and pain against me, in your apparent ability to persuade people to help you and believe they are being helped by you in putting me under your illegal authority (unless you are getting everything from hacking my computer), and in your stupid, bullish bullying.  If this is how you treat vulnerable and legally disenfranchised people when you are desperate (and it is, I know from past experience), I don’t want anything to do with you ever again, I want you to take your hands off me and everything to do with me, shut up and tell people what you have been doing to me and the fears you have been playing on.

You are gross and I hate you.  I don’t care who is impressed with you, I have been up close since my teens and I know better.   I want you to leave me alone and I want nothing else to do with you.  You are perverse in your harassment, and dishonest.  If you want me to change my mind on that then you have a bit of repenting and apologising to do, to me, with other people’s knowledge.

Although inwardly I am crying, and afraid to take such a stand towards people who have claimed to represent Jesus to me for so long and have claimed a right to acknowledgment of that fact, I will not change my mind and I will not come to you, crying or otherwise.  You are being deliberately provocative because you are too proud to be honest about your sin to a much younger woman that you have harmed.

All on my own, with my own squeaky little mouse voice, knowing how much you can still hurt and rape and provoke, deliberately, if I continue to listen to you (in the sense of hear your words over the internet), I say something I am not supposed to say and something which is completely against my nature to say to you, and that is, “go to hell, all of you”.  Your words are a complete molestation, posturing as intimate and discrete, there is nothing discrete about them, they are plain, criminal cowardice.  I hate what you are doing, you are making me ill.

If you want my help you can ask for it, otherwise I will never go back on anything I have said here, and if I do, I will be wrong.

“Glory to God!”

Colin Dye (for I think it was he) was going on this morning about treasure in earthern vessels and glory going to God and not to us.

Right.  First the way He talked about glory going to God.  It was down – “the glory goes to God and not to us”, and it leaves the hearers feeling awed or maybe even guilty “oh, we are such awful people, we must give more glory to God”.  The Bible says God beautifies and glorifies His church.  It should have been a joyful statement, not a dour one making everyone afraid of taking God’s glory.  God is glorified in our joy.  The Bible says that Jesus was anointed with joy above His fellows, because He loved righteousness and hated wickedness.  How does God get glory if we go around dark and full of foreboding and fear of not getting it right?

Second, I fail to see how God is glorified in the way they harass me anyway.  They follow everything I do on the internet and criticise it.  They criticise my isolation, they criticise me waiting for someone else to make a decisive move.

Stalking is wrong.  Hacking communications is wrong and completely counter freedom.  End of.  They even know the comments I leave on other blogs.  I only have to refer you to their body language and their shifty eyes.  They keep up a torrent of language, to what end and to what purpose, and with what motive?  To make you forget that what you believe is right?  And that what they have done is wrong?  I think so.

They talk about mercy, but they want it for themselves.  I want it for their victims first.  Which are many.

The Children of God, a group considered to be a cult, operated a principle called “heavenly deception”.  At the Christian Centre in my teens (over 30 years ago) I was told this was wrong and that they could be considered a cult partly because of that, let alone the sexual activity.  Yet these churches are now doing the same thing (except it is hardly deception, in a sense, anymore, at least, not to me because I know) and it is supposed to be OK.

Roberts Liardon is on tonight.  Poor man, what an unfortunate name.  Liar-don (some people won’t get it!)

David Wellington said this morning, “can we have the words please?”, which felt like he was asking for an apology to be given in words.  Who was he asking (except he obviously wasn’t, he was talking about the words for the songs)?  It felt as if he was asking me.  I feel as if I should apologise every time I write.  So here we are, in words, “I’m sorry”.  Now what?

“I’m sorry”.  For what?  For being so unkind and rebellious in my response to the beautiful way you portray the fact that you are sorry you have ruined my life and that you want to make amends?  Is that it?

Around the time I went to the police in 2009 David Cameron’s speech at the party conference portrayed my situation perfectly, and the song the conference used was, “Then I Saw Her Face, Now I’m A Believer”.   Ive wondered since then if he . . . this is where traditionally they can say you are deluded and psychotic.  Except I feel really treacherous, because I felt almost as if he saved my life, at that point.  But he didn’t.  It was a nice illusion, maybe for both of us.  They are not saving my life now in maintaining my benefits even though they know I have been out of the country for over a year.  They are just prolonging the agony when they should be dealing with the situation openly and head on.  I’m expected to be grateful, but you shouldn’t be grateful for what is wrong.  The continuance of my benefits while they reflect my own stuff back to me to say quite what, I am not sure, is evasion of something awful, and nothing else.

My writing is awful.  The way people come on at me with a torrent of words, using everything they know about me, almost searching for me as if in a seance, leaves me emotionally raped.  Either something spiritual really is happening in what they are doing, or they are acting it.  Both options are equally evil and cynical and hateful.  I’m not just talking about the church.  Read my other rants and you’ll get an idea of the people and organisations I’m on about.

Maybe all that has happened is my crazy speeding mind has slowed down because I’ve listened to people like Michael Mish, and I now find the torrent that others think is normal crazy and disturbing.  Whether it is or not I’m not sure.

In fact, not only crazy and disturbing, but used like a deliberate hammer or pick axe, to extract whatever ore they can find.  It’s a bit like a tongue loosener.

And the backsnaps (some people will understand).  I read about someone being tortured once by being forced to stand bolt uprught without moving, for hours.  The effect of the onslaught is like that.  Somehow you have to make a conscious effort to disconnect, except when you have screamed out all your hysterical rubbish and they are still going on and progressing it further, it is so hard.  And all the time they are doing it it is as if I’m not even there, even though all their remarks seemed to be aimed at me.

OK, another name call.  That happened to Katie Melua on Saturday Kitchen yesterday.  That’s all I’m saying, that it happened.  I’m not expressing a feeling about it.  I wouldn’t dare.

Pamela Stevenson On The One Show

Available until 7.30 pm tonight.  Get it quickly.  She is or has been a practising psychologist, and she has also been involved in what has been happening to me.  That makes it criminal as an artist an certainly as a psychologist.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00y4y8l/The_One_Show_27_01_2011/

I haven’t said anything for ages.  I’ve known since the last series of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’.  There is another psycholgist called Doctor Pam Spur (it might have 2 ‘r’s) who stood in for Tommy Boyd a couple of times, and she was talking about stuff like ‘walking the dog’ in the afternoon show, which could be taken as a sexual reference.  At the time the producer or whoever it was working with her was furious, I think he could see it wasn’t right for her to be doing that, on whatever level he understood it.  It was for BBC Southern Counties Radio.

Call me stupid if you like, but the reason I haven’t said anything about Pamela Stevenson is because I didn’t want to hurt her husband, Billy Connelly.  I’m a complete sucker for other people’s pain and it can keep me silent for ages.  I’ve seen his act on the tv a few times, I’ve heard him talk about his background, and there seems to be something really fragile about him.  I thought if I said anything about his wife it would hurt him, so I kept quiet.

She has been using Jean Darnall’s personality for ages, even while she was dancing.  There was a girl called Stevenson at a school I used to go to (I won’t identify her any further than that), and Pamela wears her hair in exactly the same way.  This girl was close friends with a teacher friend of mine who died a few years ago with a brain haemmorhage, and who has also been used by the media.  All of us were connected with the same drama group.

One of my concerns in this programme is that Pamela talks about authority going back to the GP in relation to the mental health system, and she said they were not trained to be able to make a diagnosis of mental illness.  But I believe that she herself has been involved with the stalking, and yet there she is wanting to make the right to diagnose mental illness an exclusive and specialised thing.  But she has abused her position.  But if ordinary practitioners are told that they are unable to work with this kind of thing adequately, if someone approaches them and says this is happening to them they are probably referred back to the mental health system and the GP has probably been told not to get involved.  That isolates the patient, if everyone else is being told to leave it to the professionals.

I apologise, I was tired ages ago of trusting that, if i tried to be discreet, someone would respect that and try and step in to help.  So now I am condemned, even if by no one other than myself, for my lack of discretion.  I like Billy Connelly – oh what rubbish, I’ve only ever seen him on the telly!

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