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No one wants to hear your life story

I was born in Ventura, California, in September of 1982. My dad was a Naval Commander in Vietnam, and my mom was a secretary to military figures. Both of my parents worked on Top Secret black ops, and both had children previously; my mom adopted two South Korean children, Andy and Sookie, and my dad had two daughters from a previous marriage, Barbara and Kendra.

I was a happy little boy, always making stop-motion movies with the family camcorder or arranging Legos into theatrical scenes. I excelled in drama and, being a life path 3, was drawn to performance from almost birth. I remember receiving a Casio keyboard and being fascinated with the many sounds and tones. I loved the sound of the synth bells, mock tubular bells. In home videos from that era, there is endless footage of me performing in one way or another, with a very innocent and sweet disposition.

I was able to salvage some home movies from 1989 when I moved back in with my mom. In them, my sister whom I would argue is more right-leaning very much praises and idealizes our Dad, a child abusing sex predator mas murderer. This same sister won’t even answer my texts and thinks I’M crazy now. What a joke. But, that’s America- Ann Coulter calling anyone on the left a homosexual then dating Bob Guccione Jr., heir to the Penthouse fortune, despite calling herself Christian and Conservative, are energies you can expect. Ann Coulter and my sister share a moon sign, Sagittarius. Sagittarius Moon is undercutting, abusive, derisive, and selfish- Donald Trump is a Sagittarius Moon.

Most of America, the part that votes for Trump, is afraid, ignorant, angry, childish, and driven only by lust and greed. That will and has been the decline of western civilization. They’re afraid of intellectuals on the left interfering with their sexual or racist drives, they’re afraid of cultures they don’t understand.

When I was 11, my dad was caught having an affair with my adopted sister, Sookie, who was 18 at the time. My dad had no apology in him for me, or for the most part anyone involved, and left my life for good. My little boy soul died in the wake. He had groomed Sookie since who knows how young, most likely early teens, in engineering, and it was a relationship very akin to Woody Allen and Soon-Yi Previn.

This was less than a year after the LA riots, and about a year before the Northridge Earthquake, both of which I experienced relatively up close. I saw in those incidents what it looks like when society falls apart. I remember buying milk from a store owner who was brandishing a shotgun when there was no power in the store. I remember the adults freaking out when television news was not available, and freeways were blocked. During an aftershock of the earthquake, I felt my house shake to almost collapse, and I grabbed and held my cousin as if we were going to die. It’s kind of sweet in hindsight, but a lot for a 10 year old to take on. I remember my Korean brother just chillin’ under a desk, he was accustomed to traumatic incidents.

Growing up in Southern California in that era bears hallmarks, the kind of surfer, rock music culture permanently affected my concept of fun, of attractive women, and of a kind of Keanu Reeves to Anthony Kiedis sensibility of Hollywood Zen. The first CD I ever bought was Queen’s Greatest Hits, and it was a revelation to me. The second I ever bought was David Bowie’s greatest hits, and if you put those two together you can imagine what my music fantasies contained. I rarely, if ever, cared about the contemporary music of my teens. I automatically gravitated towards glam and punk of the 1970s.

My family lived in Camarillo, CA, a city built around an airstrip and a mental hospital, Camarillo State Hospital. Allegedly, Camarillo State Hospital was the basis for the song "Hotel California," and pictures of the hospital are in the gatefold for the album. Upon taking off for many family road trips, I heard screams coming from the hospital. My parents thought it was funny.

My dad actually shared an astrological sign with Woody Allen, Sagittarius. You can see in another Sagittarius, Warren Jeffs, a kind of messianic madness, and when Warren Jeffs children appear on talk shows they do not speak in a common-sensical way about the whole incident, they talk like Stockholm Syndrome survivors; ‘Father said this, father did that.’

My dad was constantly pressing on my mom that I had some kind of learning disability, like ADHD or Autism, which I do not. However, I do think that poor Standard American Diet behaviors leads to bad developmental abilities in children in terms of focus and emotional stability. My dad was constantly trying to get me to take medication. One time he told me I should consider a job as an airline steward, softly implying I was gay, which I am not. I feel to this day he was just psychologically trying to abuse me in a roundabout way, as I was a symbol of his fading youth and masculinity. Sookie told him, a 50-year-old man, that he had to choose between me and her. Why that was the decision, I'll never understand. But he vocally chose her, telling my mom he couldn't live without her and needed her, and would kill himself if she left him. I learned very early on how wicked and twisted adult sexual relationships are, especially oppressed sexuality, as it leads to exactly what my dad did.

He never once mentioned the affair or any of the damage it did, or apologized at all, in the ensuing 30 years from the event to his death. He never discussed anything with me remotely emotional, nor his own childhood, and many have inferred that his mom, a Capricorn DAR from Oklahoma, may have carried on an incestuous relationship with him.

I saw many, many adults confront me with an energy assuming the rest of my life was going to be a disaster, treating me like a victim and being darkly interested in the incestual relationship, asking if I ever noticed any signs or whatever, casting aspersion about my perceptive abilities as a little child. I figured out early on that authority is false, and that the adult world is a congress of lies. I have a hard time becoming an adult because I still believe this.

I'm telling you right now, my parents had prestigious careers and were friends with government officials and prominent military people. Literally no one admonished or chastised my dad in any way. Some of my parents' mutual friends essentially high-fived him for "landing" a young girl, and others treated him like he was "saving" her from my mom. My mom is very un-maternal, she’s threatened to have me beaten up by my uncles, called cops on me, made me homeless several times. I really lost the parent lottery. My mom sits in front of the TV now, almost all of her waking hours, blasting Fox News. She has always told me to shut up when the TV was on, as if the TV is authority, or God. This is a popular mental illness among boomers, because they are all collectively far too stupid to understand TV works for the Illuminati.

One day, my dad told me to come close to him as he tinkered in the garage with a rat trap. I, naive and with a lot of childhood innocence, assumed my dad had something interesting in store for me. He instructed me to put my baby finger into the rat trap, and when it snapped and I howled, he said, "See, you can handle pain." He always had understated hostility towards me, several times grabbing me so hard it left marks or spanking me so hard it burned for days at a time.

My mom, like many Republican women, saw this "Spare the rod, spoil the child" abuse as somehow good for a less-than-ten-year-old, many times turning a blind eye to abuse from him and from her future boyfriends. Many times I was babysat by Sookie who would put on a front for adults that she was very mature and stable, but behind closed doors, would severely neglect me and abuse me. She would leave me in cold baths for hours at a time while she listened to Les Misérables and told me repeatedly she hated me. She would turn very cold and unresponsive when no adults were around, almost strangely catatonic.

Many people have presumed she was sexually abused in the orphanage she grew up in. My adopted brother and her brother, Andy, had his iris stabbed out of his eye in the same orphanage. Andy protected her when they essentially lived on the street in Seoul. Their mother had been a prostitute who grew up on a farm of some sort. The apple doesn’t apparently fall far from the tree.

My mom is a strong believer in hiding problems. From alcoholism to abuse to financial problems, she thinks you should never let people know, ‘never let em see you sweat’ is the idea. This is a major difference between us. In my opinion, it's better to out every instance of abuse and neglect, and deal with the consequences. This, in my opinion, is why she allows narcissist abusers and men who wear dark-tinted glasses into her life so much. My mom never taught me to drive, enroll in school, or empowered me to be an adult in any way, yet constantly abuses me psychologically for not being successful. When there were limited funds, she'd often opt for alcohol instead of necessities.

She's put me in harm's way hundreds of times. I’d never been to the dentist until I was in the military, I have a gap in my teeth and used to smoke, so my teeth are not in optimal shape, and so more recently I had to go to a clinic-type dentist. When their bedside manner was very ghetto, my mom, rather than help me fix the situation, said simply, “That’w what you get for being poor.”

I’ve been malnourished several times living with her, to the point my hair started falling out, and she never does anything about it, simply getting egotistical and indignant. She is psychopathically abusive toward me often. She always tries to provoke me into getting a ‘normal guy’ haircut and dressing basically liek a Republican psychopath molester. She hates if I have long hair, like it’s 1965 or something.

Every single thing that goes wrong when I’m around her she automatically blames on me- if the computer or phone stop working it’s my fault (“What did you do to my computer?”). She eats cancer-causing Midwestern Standard American Diet, and if I ever say anything she becomes indignant and rude about it, she is incredibly ego-maniacal. Sure enough, she’s had cancer twice, and now Parkinson’s, never realizing her almost 100% red meat, bread and sugar diet is a contributing factor.

My mother talks to the TV when no one is looking, sometimes making strange noises when it’s on, which I hear from my cousin runs in the family. She talks about people on TV as if they are her personal friend, and believes every bit of Fox News propaganda, deriding any single way that young people attempt to reclaim their identities against the fascist status quo it presents.

My mom used to drink so much I’d have to pick her up off the floor. One time she smashed a glass on her hand and screamed “What is this? What is this?” looking at the blood as if she had never seen a wound. She’s completely unaware of her mortality and doesn’t care who she negatively affects with her egomania.

I believe the truth is more important than feeling good, it's more important than appearing to be successful, and it's more important than your life. There were plenty of beaming smiles of SS guards at concentration camps, some of whom were holding their partners on the way to a happy career.

My maternal grandma lived in North Highlands, CA. One time visiting her, I heard her neighbors in a relationship fight. "Have a good fucking lunch, whore!" the man yelled. Later, that guy shot himself because of whatever circumstances of the breakup. It always stuck in my mind that adults would just shoot themselves. There was a standoff between him and authorities before he shot himself.

My grandma was a Pisces Sun, as was her husband and my grandpa, whom the rest of my family looks highly upon for his World War II Archie Bunker-esque worldview, which has been a large detriment for me also. My Grandma, in her later years, was completely dependent on her family, moving in with my uncle and then my mom, and being a heavy alcoholic the whole time, drinking herself into a stupor. My mom somehow thinks this was cool, I have to work hard to not let her do the same thing to me.

On one family vacation in Colorado, I slipped on a wet rock in a stream and fell head-first onto a sharp rock. I told Sookie, who was my primary guardian, I should go to the hospital. She responded that I should instead lie to the adults and tell them nothing happened, and it would be fine. I learned Sookie's modus operandi around then.

Sookie and my dad were both heavily praised in my community, because Americans are clueless enablers of psychopathy. Sookie was referred to as "Dynamite," as she was short, valedictorian, and the principal declared "dynamite comes in small packages." Both college graduates in a technical field, and both well-spoken, erudite, intelligent individuals, my dad and Sookie were treated in home videos like successful, proper adults. Both were also incestual psychopaths and sociopathic abusers, hallmarks of the Republican party, but I digress.

Alternately, I have always been treated poorly by the system; kicked out of High School, kicked out of the military, authoritarian psychopaths just don’t like me.

They both ended up together in Texas, and both are extremely Christian. Sookie teaches at a Christian children's school there today. When I last talked to my dad, in regard to 9/11, he told me to be with Jesus, as in kill myself. To the very last day, he had an adversarial, dark, and twisted perspective toward me. His last vote was for Trump, and he told me the reasoning was, "He's strong." My dad died of multiple strokes, already wheelchair-bound, in 2018. I had absolutely no emotional support whatsoever toward the impact it may have had on me. Realizing that no one was made me really have to rethink my life. Lots of people simply stopped talking to me because these narc abusers had assuredly courted them into whatever lies or half-truths to save their own social capital.

After my parents' divorce, I would come home from elementary school having to pick my mom up from a Prozac-and-depression-induced stupor. She would be catatonic and not respond to my basic needs for school supplies and the like for days at a time. When I was supposed to be learning basic stuff like science and math, I had to tend to her depressive, alcoholic needs constantly, and it hampered my early education, and I started doing poorly in school. Like most people from her generation, she married awful people then was surprised when they were awful. She would give me $20 to buy pizza to eat frequently, which wove into my psyche as a stimulus memory of emotional avoidance.

This and renting horror movies became sources of strange comfort for me in my developmental years. I gathered that horror as a genre is not really about blood and guts, it's about adults not listening to kids. Re-watch "Nightmare on Elm Street" through that lens, and you'll see what I mean. In one incident, I was told at school I needed colored pencils for a project. I went into my mom's bedroom and she was catatonic, staring at the walls, as I asked for my 12-year-old school needs. She didn't say anything; it was like she was dead. I learned to not try and give up because no one cared.

My mom had a litany of scary, abusive, Republican boyfriends after that, all of whom hated me. She loved ignorant redneck rapist archetypes. I think fundamentally she believes in the will to power, that is, that weak people take what they are given and strong people take what they want, and, like most military wives, she perceives herself as a prize to be won. To this day, she loves country music, all that bullshit. I often wonder how we're even related, and that is a common aspect of having an astrological Aquarius Moon, an estranged kind of relationship with your mom. One of those boyfriends, Tom, a Vietnam vet who was missing fingers from a truck explosion gone wrong, repeatedly told me it was my fault whenever they would violently argue.

"Your mom and I are gonna be together, and there's nothing you can do about it!" He would say, wearing some of those serial killer glasses with the darkened lenses so you cannot see into his eyes. When, during one road trip to visit my grandma in Sacramento, I told him I had no respect for him, he was dead silent in violent, manipulative protest—a 40+ year-old man to an 11-year-old boy—the entire trip. He repeatedly held my mom down and did other violent things, and she eventually had to seek a restraining order against him when he threatened her life.

Another boyfriend, Mike, was dating my mom during my own political awakening post-9/11. I was attempting to show my mom lectures from MIT chair holder and anti-war intellectual Noam Chomsky, and this man would interject little stupid barbs—"Look at his shirt. What degree does he have? He's lying about x"—and so on. I was somewhat taken aback at the time by how threatened dumb Americans were by intellectualism. I am not surprised by that anymore. There was definitely a feeling that early '00s leftism was going to invigorate intelligence into younger Americans, but "'Murica" strikes back still today, with pedophile predator rapist Donald Trump as Molester in Chief.

Mike hated me. He was emotionally challenged when it came to dealing with me, that's for sure. He threatened me many times that if there was a terrorist attack during the "high" risk alert of the Bush administration's terror alert system, he would see to it that I joined the Army. The terror alert system never once actively worked. I knew the Bush administration was lying about the whole thing, and openly talked about it almost daily, but it fell on deaf ears in my circle. The many farcical aspects of the so-called War on Terror, "'Murica" fighting a war on an abstract concept, was completely lost on the irony-less males in my vicinity. Most all American Republican males believe one thing—a Republican president will get them money, which will get them sex. It's as simple as that. Suffice to say, I started to grow punk rock feelings (as an Aquarius Moon, I can say that, from Joan Jett to John Lennon, the black leather jacket, not giving a fuck attitude is Aquarius Moon, not punk per se) and turn away from my WASPy upbringing just about as every adult in the room legitimately believed that 19 hijackers, most of whom were from Saudi Arabia, justified invading Iraq and Afghanistan, like the easily led sheep of the Illuminati they are.

The Republican Party has never ever stood for "Freedom" or any of that for me; it has represented abuse, sexual misconduct, pedophilia, ignorance, and violence. I feel pretty justified in thinking that when you examine cases such as the Franklin Cover-Up Case in which George Bush may have been involved in a pedophile ring, or in the case of the GOP's longest-standing Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert, who molested at least four boys as young as 14 when he was a High School wrestling coach, or Ted Haggert, Bush’s spiritual advisor who was caught in a hotel room smoking meth and having sex with a male prostitute. Those three examples are all you actually need to know about Republicanism in America- Republicanism is a mental illness and a nesting ground for sex crimes, psychopathy, and abuse.

When I tried to explain the burgeoning premises for the belief that 9/11 was an inside job, I faced "The Spell." The Spell is this weird thing that a lot of Republicans have, wherein they live in denial of the horrors and atrocities of their own party. Often, my mom and others (she still does sometimes) leave the room if you talk about something Republicans may have done that is deceptive or wicked. So avoidant are they that they will sacrifice children, etc., before they will accept the truth. Noted, my young mind said.

One day near the end of their relationship, Mike sat me down late at night and, with a gaping open mouth, attempted to ask me what my problem with him was. In that conversation he started crying and telling me his dad, who was an Army officer, was terrible to him, mentally abusing him and calling him skinny until he volunteered, which he did in the '80s, and never saw combat. His job in the Army was piddly, and later, when I did join the Navy, I outranked him in 8 months.

I moved to Sacramento, CA, a move my mom thought would be good because the majority of her family lived here. They were prison guards and truck drivers, and not extremely relatable role models for a nihilistic depressive teen who just wanted to be around arts environments. Their partners had racked up gambling debt, smoked, general redneck wounds. They said undercutting things to me all through my teenage years, mocking my depression, thinking I was gay.

Even as I write this, and read it to my mom, her main concern is if any of our family is going to read it, fearing they will become angry in regard to the way I was treated. My feelings, as a military male child, have never mattered one iota, you learn young, money matters, looks matter, but feelings are for women. Men are to be strong at all times, and kill outsiders if necessary.

My mom calls men who express emotions "twinkletoes" and left-leaning men "pantywastes" and "communist pinkos." No matter how progressive people pretend to be, money and looks still matter if you are male, much, much more than your feelings. This is why there are school shootings, and ever-increasing male suicide rates, which are higher than ever in human history. If I ever say, “This is how I feel” to my mom, she shuts it down and says, “Well how do you think I feel?” or makes it about herself, literally 100% of the time.

I learned several instruments around 13, and was totally enveloped in music, sometimes for a whole day I'd just play alongside records, imagining new parts, usually to '70s punk like Dead Boys or New York Dolls. I was willing to listen to and try to play along with anything and everything, and this eclecticism introduced me to Avant Garde and progressive rock music, which had a permanent effect on me. It sounded like alien magic to me, and was exotic and really cool. I was so overwhelmingly convinced that I could do that too.

There was also a band called Mr. Bungle that, at the time, I was the only person I knew who liked. But their philosophy was a mixture of several things I love: more cinematic music, avant-garde, and world influences, with a lot of esoteric components. Really, all of this mash-up energy was Aquarian energy, which I didn't know at the time. Without waxing on too much about Mr. Bungle, it's a miracle that a band that weird and interesting was signed to a major label, and almost everything they did subsequently was pretty interesting and cool and good also. They were from Northern California also, and seemed to achieve creating meaningful and even spiritual art transcendent of rock clichés and metal quasi-darkness. Mr. Bungle and surrounding bands gave exotic hope to people like me that the weird stuff you draw in your binder could become an artwork and you could live based upon it.

I enrolled in a high school here, Center High, which was quite scandal-laden. My history teacher was David Warfield, who became Dana Rivers when she had gender reassignment surgery. She went on to kill her partner and their kids in the Bay Area after having a tempestuous affair. The judge in the case called the incident, “the most depraved crime that I’ve handled in the criminal justice field in 33 years.”

Yet another reinforcement that being a figure of authority has no actual bearing on the sanity of the authority figure. The reaction when he came out as she in my school was mostly from left girls, who formed clubs defending him of course. My best friend’s mom, a born-again Christian who had raised her children in a homosexually abusive Republican cult, was actually on a panel of parents who had him fired.

There was another murder at the continuation school I attended, of a student by a janitor. Her name was Michelle Rodriguez, and it was barely talked about.

The thing about trans identity, which has become normalized in my lifetime, is that it's very reminiscent of Philip K. Dick's iteration of clones. One says, "I am a man now, because I say so. I look like a man, because I have a flannel shirt and a backwards hat." To which any rational person says, "You have female genitalia. You're a woman." And they continue to "prove" their synthetic manifestation of gender, claiming a victim status if you deny them their right to your gender. This is an extension of colonialism. Though many transgender people would logically fit on the left politically, I find it to be very right wing. Transgender is about taking identity from others, "I am no longer a woman, I am now a man." There is no difference between that and blackface. "I am now black, because I am costumed as black." As Dave Chappelle pointed out after being cancelled by these narcissistic abusers, "Why can't I go around using a Chinese accent, saying 'this is who I am on the inside!' People would say that's offensive. But this is who I am!"

"Let them be whatever they say they are!" is the rallying cry of the left, which is naive, assuming we do not exist in the same social body. If I say, "I am rich!" that same logic doesn't apply to how I get to file taxes, or what healthcare plan I get. A Republican trope I've found to be true is that by and large, the American left doesn't actually care if a policy is good or right, they're more fascinated with "sticking it to the man," a long-form psyop that will have no traction when the man is a Muslim or Chinese businessman. But I digress.

It's at Center High that I acquired a significant friendship with my friend Josh, who himself suffered from Christian Republican cultic abuse as a child. Josh's girlfriend Stephanie also ran off with the shop teacher, who was more than 15 years her senior.

Josh's mom would burn and break his CDs and T-shirts that pertained to "rock" music like Nine Inch Nails or Marilyn Manson because she called them demonic. However, she had belonged to a cult when Josh and his brother were kids in which the adult, Christian, Republican males sexually and physically abused the children, male children, often. Obviously, the problem was rock music.

They told them that each Democrat President or leftist celebrity was more "demonic" than the last. Performers like Marilyn Manson are just that- performers, artists, social critics. They are not to blame for school shootings, immorality, incest, promiscuity, etc. Those are distinctly Christianity-created dualisms that quasi-Christian people commit upon other quasi-christian people. In all my years of dealing with musicians I have never seen anything as atrocious as what American Republicans get up to toward each other.

Josh told me about an incident where his dad, who had been in Vietnam but shot himself in the foot (HIS father had been shot by friendly fire), and subsequently became addicted to pain pills, had threatened his mother by taking a bullet casing and placing it on her back. "If you ever leave me, I'll put a bullet in your back," he said, to which he was able to later deny and say "I said I'll put a bullet on your back." He was a pill addict who wrote a fantasy novel in which he was the protagonist, and Josh's girlfriend and later wife, Sheena, who was around 18 at the time, was the love interest. He had a fat, gross partner who was verbally abusive and nasty to everyone named Tammy. When Tammy contracted cancer, Josh's dad simply left her to die. He is, of course, a Republican and Trump Supporter. A Taurus Sun, he collects McDonalds toys and the like well into old age. NOT being like him is a main catalyst for Josh to do something else with his life. A lot of people in this area live side by side with horrific failure as if it’s just normal.

Josh and I went on to form several bands, for some reason that was our "way out" of choice. I was introduced to a lot more esoteric things like Astrology and Numerology. At first I was skeptical of these things, but with an 8-member band, there was a lot of material to cross-reference. We would say, Jason is an Aquarius (I also saved him from a suicide attempt) and he does x, yet Dawn is a Cancer and she does y, and slowly, it was becoming obviously real to me.

For me, Astrology and Numerology are like punk rock. Christianity, in its completely false, anachronistic iteration, dominates everyone's mentality about spirituality in an invisible, magical way. Astrology and Numerology can show you that the soul is real, but it's not what you think. It's liberating to realize how ersatz our society is.

The crazy things about Astrology and Numerology is that if they are true, and they are, the world we live in is an elaborate facade, like a fishbowl. We are in the fishbowl and look at the giant shell and say, "I like the shell. I don't like the shell" but rarely if ever say, "We are in a fishbowl. Who put us here?" As Noam Chomsky said, "The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum." Truer words were never spoken. You are permitted to be liberal and say "I love immigration, diversity is our strength!" But you are not permitted to go full Marx, and say "The bourgeois allow immigration, but divest it from their neighborhoods, because it creates a mechanism through which they can virtue signal the nobility of their tolerance!"

After being kicked out of Center High, I went to an extremely dangerous and ghetto continuation high school, mostly loser kids of Vietnam vets with severe emotional issues. One girl I met there claimed her goal in life was to get the band Korn to "rape her in all her holes." I made a homemade shirt that said "I Hate Korn" for which I was sent home from school. I later learned that Johnny Rotten, who is astrologically myself inside out, an Aquarius with a Libra moon, wore a Pink Floyd shirt with "I Hate" atop it. Really I had much the same dream as Johnny Rotten at least at first—I love shaking things up and hate/love people for being so sheepish and dogmatic.

Another girl in my High School claimed that the only way she could go to sleep was by repeatedly bashing her head against her headboard. Someone implied that her dad perhaps was raping her, which I later found out was true, when she asked a group of people, "What if you like it when your Dad rapes you?"

Going over to one girl Taryn's house after school, she made a frozen pizza and there were cockroaches on it. She said those were vitamins. Her dad was a Vietnam vet also, and he paid her mom, whose teeth were missing from years of methamphetamine abuse, $5 to give him blowjobs. Her mom was a decrepit crone who neglected Taryn's every need and lived in constant fear of CPS and other government agencies catching wind of how horrid the conditions were in which she was raising her white trash flock.

Pretty much my whole teens and early twenties were surrounded with awful white trash people who did degraded, shady things regularly. I tried to escape many times but white trash rely upon gas lighting and narcissistic abuse to keep you in the fold.

I like to call the white trash, racist, derisive evil in America "The Rattlesnake." It's this agro-trashy perspective that a lot of Republicans have that somehow Jesus and Capitalism are good and homosexuality, blue hair, and college education is bad. It's the same energy that makes "lawless" cowboys somehow heroic while law-abiding and constitution-endorsing Black Panthers are "race agitators."

Kids followed me home from that school and threatened to jump me or kill me almost every day. It's a miracle I never did anything criminal to act out. In fact, at this time, I was very anti-drug and tried to be proactive despite extreme nihilism. I wanted to die like every day, I hated school so much and it was very much like the film "Gummo." It's popular for veneer-based Americans to see films like "Gummo" and say "Why would you wanna watch that? It's so disturbing and gross.” Gummo is like a documentary for me.

They never seem to catch on that society is disturbing and gross usually as a waste product of their vapid cruelty, shallow perceptions of success, and animalistic drives that they often hide and take out on others. That's not hard to understand for someone like me, but try to explain that to suburban America. It always seemed to me like only artists and filmmakers understood that, and I am extremely drawn to film as an art form, it’s quite powerful.

Students would show up with cuts they had performed on their arms and wrists, and my first three long-term girlfriends had extensive scars of this kind on their arms. My High School Death Metal, Beavis and Butthead-style friend, Tim Montoya, had followed the same trajectory of Center High School to Continuation School, after he had encouraged me and another boy to write a bunch of satanic symbols into our school planners, which the school treated alike to a bomb threat (this was around the time of Columbine), and none of us were allowed to graduate. Tim had a brother who was nicknamed ‘Gangbang Mike’ because he had been in a gang bang porno, which he tried to show us several times.

The third kid was a Jehovah's Witness who denied even evolution, yet the school, much like my mom, was way into keeping up appearances and couldn't let these mini-Columbine kids graduate with the other normies. Tim had cuts on his arms and listened to Slayer and the like; he would open up the cuts sometimes like little bloody pockets and say "Nick, look. Hehehe" laughing at his gruesome wounds. The main thing Tim was extremely positive on was my musical ability, even when I last talked to him he just casually inserted, "So, you still jamming?"

Tim's mom, a 40-something woman named Lori who smoked cannabis out of a bong every day, tried to kiss me after showing me internet porn, then denied it later. She rode horses in a gross cowboy way (if you're not American, cowboy is pretty much synonymous with racist, abuser, rapist) and one time dropped trow and urinated in front of me and our friends at the stable, to the sound of cacophonous, crone laughter. One time Tim's mom yelled at me for not giving her a discount at Blockbuster Video, and I nearly got fired.

Out of the continuation school I met a girl named Becky with whom I had a five year relationship that seemed like kismet. She bought books of baby names and discussed with me what our children would be named, it seemed like it would be a long term thing. But, like the vast majority of women, the cock carousel came summoning.

Lori obviously had a sexual fixation with my girlfriend Becky, who later told me she had attempted to have a threesome with her, alongside her creepy, gross partner, a farmer's tan-having Money Store employee who was always trying to get us to eat sandwiches of marijuana resin on toast. They were the hangover from 1970’s American, Van Halen-esque ‘freedom’. Several times they attempted to sell me peyote.

Tim got me a job at a liquor store, perhaps the darkest, most depraved job I've ever had. I would see people come in who were actively ruining their lives, a guy with a prostitute buying a gallon of "Povo" which was Popov Vodka, a bottom-shelf vodka, comes to mind.

About a decade after dating Becky, we talked on Facebook and so I decided to catch up with her. This was a big mistake. She got drunk on cheap beer, and when I made the mistake of alleging that white men were the new black men, jokingly, because it was so en vogue to hate on white men, she flipped out, kicked me out of her house, and, myself, without a car, I had to walk back to my mom's house miles away. To this day, she bears all the scars of a terminally left mental slave. I see her posting things regarding pro-Palestine, anti-Trump rhetoric, when I know firsthand she knew nothing of the Palestine-Israel conflict before I explained it to her, doubtful she knows much more now.

The owner of the Liquor Store, which was called Liquor Center #9, was an Egyptian man named Ed. He showed me a shotgun behind the counter and told me to use it if I caught anyone stealing. I was being paid under the table, so Ed had me lie to any and every one about the job. Tim would pull out rolls of scratchers and scratch them all day. Tim turned me on to Death Metal and similar music; we would nihilistically indulge in the most degenerate GG Allin-style antics. I remember he got kicked out of music class for burning a bible in class. That was the '90s. I think we had in common that we both simply did not give a fuck about society, having been thoroughly cast out of it. Again, people do not generally understand that level of nihilism comes from being treated like shit in society, and not something intrinsic in the individual. It was very similar to the kids from the HBO series "Paradise Lost"; I could see myself and Tim being put in prison for some crime we didn't commit. Those kids are simply pariahs, scapegoats and necessary sacrifices for the fake Christianity that Americans hinge their lumpy morality upon, while the judges get fat and the lawyers get famous.

One time Tim won $500 on scratchers, which he spent entirely on more scratchers. Tim was dating a girl named Kristen, who was my own girlfriend, Becky's best friend. I lived with Becky after being kicked out of my mom's house for telling her I didn't feel loved. My mom and her side of the family have a samurai-like need for familial respect, and if they feel disrespected, they do not work it out, but rather get offended, sometimes for years. I have the mother of a serial killer, but am not the serial killer archetype. She pushes and is vile, selfish, and generally Norman-Bates-mother material. She also takes no issue seemingly with all the ‘southern rebellion’ energy of white trash. I have always found it disgusting and horrific, but that is unfortunately who I was socialized with.

Kristen inevitably broke up with Tim one day, and his response was to overdose on aspirin to try to kill himself. Becky and I sat with him all night and forced him to throw up repeatedly until he just passed out. This was another extremely scary incident, as his mom didn't want any cops called; she was engaged in a lot of criminal behavior from selling drugs to kids to not even knowing how to file taxes. This would mark the first of about 10 times I have saved someone from a suicide attempt, usually just for them to be complete assholes to me later on. The last time I spoke to Tim was in the heyday of MySpace. He asked how I was doing to which I said depressed. His retort was, "Pull that trigger" as in kill yourself. People are always telling me to kill myself.

One time I went to Kristen's house and she spat on her dog while she smoked cigarettes like her dog was a spittoon. They would have discussions about how anal sex was better and n****rs were violent, true nihilistic white bread corn-pone horseshit. Rio Linda, California strikes again, as Rush Limbaugh would say. Those people out there are equal parts moronic, trashy, and scary.

After spending the money my Grandma had set aside for my college education trying to run away from the hellish, degraded environments I grew up in, living in tiny apartments and working minimum wage jobs, like Blockbuster video or Kmart, neither of which exist anymore, I learned that jobs and money have nothing to do with real people's real experiences. I want to reiterate that my body, psyche, and reality still exist, but none of the companies I initially exchanged my labor for minimum remuneration exist.

Yet, Blockbuster or Quiznos is more real to most people than I am. I say this because at the time, every player from my family members urging me to get a job, to coworkers, to bosses, all thought that we were really doing something, but all we were truly doing was moving boxes from A to B and wearing little outfits for minimum wage while our lives passed us by. And now, no one cares, and it may have never happened. Work, as we understand it, lags far behind the reality of humanity. Until we resolve that disconnect, you cannot blame the begrudged worker, you have only the paradigm to blame.

My first boss was a total bitch named Jaime who abused me regularly in a kind of BDSM power grab, assumedly because I was a white guy and she was a Latina and devout Catholic who of course hated me as most Catholics do. Catholicism is about illogical conformity to absurd premises, so a rational person sticks out like a bubble in a paint job that Catholics desire to pop. No rational person would ever become Catholic to begin with, and I personally do not believe Catholics should be allowed prominent positions in careers. White supremacists should be denied those roles for similar reasons.

One time I shaved my head out of a nihilistic suicidal depression, and Jaime's response was not to ask if anything was wrong, but rather punish me by cutting back my hours enough that I no longer got free rentals or any of the "perks" of Blockbuster, and was pretty much unemployed. She was really into her power and punishment. Jaime always said she was going to become a lawyer, and she had the hairdo Jennifer Aniston had on "Friends." She never became a lawyer, and works as a Real Estate agent just a few miles from where she tried to exert her power over me. She was a Leo.

Neither of those companies even exist anymore, and basically in hindsight we were just two strangers psychically abusing each other in a building for minimum wage. Her wage was literally $2 above mine, and it gave her such power in her mind. It's all so futile and stupid.

Every job I had in my teens to twenties was nightmarish. I worked as an overnight stocker alongside men in their forties, and I remember on a lunch break one time I shared a lunch room with a guy that looked like Hercules Hernandez, the professional wrestler, exactly. He was so stupid, he literally spit food out of his mouth, with his feet up on the table, at a news story about Prop 8 in California, which legalized gay marriage. When a person on the TV said, "I just can't imagine why anyone would have a problem with this!" He loudly spat out, "Because it's against God!" as if she could hear him. He then proceeded to get in a contest with coworkers regarding who had walked the furthest for methamphetamine. I was probably 20 years old.

Becky had three sisters, one of whom contracted syphilis when her husband slept with a prostitute, then her. Another was a Sagittarius, and Becky hated her, who relentlessly defended their abusive monster father. "He was just stern with us," she would say on the phone, to which Becky retched. I learned that generally, that's how women and girls are, no matter how disgusting and vile their fathers are, they generally look up to them or see them as "right." This is double if their father does something violent for an occupation: Prison Guard, Military, Cop. These women ignore the evils men do.

Those are the real delusional girls who will never find good partners, and always worship magical non-existent Jesus in the sky, the ones with violent fathers they look up to. I wonder if the Jesus myth so perfectly fits like a puzzle piece for these girls because it is as inauthentic and delusional as their belief that their father is a good man. It's simply because violence is inherent in power, and power is what women respect, not goodness. That same sister, Dorothy, had a partner named Dean, who took very inappropriate pictures in photo sessions of Dorothy's two daughters (one of whom was named Chyna after China white heroin), calling them "sexy." They were less than 15. Dorothy was a Sagittarius.

I told Becky to report him, just as I myself called CPS regarding Becky's other sister who was being beaten by their father. The CPS agents told me if there were no bruises or marks on her, there's nothing they could do. Perpetually, doing the “right thing” got me absolutely nowhere all throughout my young life. That’s because people are not guided by “right” they are guided by sex, power, and money.

I rented an apartment, and our neighbors were a Mexican couple, Juan and Teresita. Teresita was a legal clerk and Juan made a living scamming corporate businesses with fake receipts. Juan was always stoned, and always tried to pull me into his scams, assuredly because I was white and people would believe me. He always had super sketch behavior, coming over at 2am with food, stuff like that. Becky, who for some reason loved Mexicans and hated white people, would always force me to embrace Juan, Teresita, and their shady interactions with us. Becky would later say, "I don't want to have any white babies" to me. Where the fuck is that kind of philosophy coming from?

I myself had to break up with this Becky girl, herself a narcissistic abuser and alcoholic with borderline personality disorder who had been sexually abused by her schizophrenic cousin, in ways that she must have at least somewhat enjoyed, because she brought it up constantly. After living with her in an apartment for close to 4 years, and taking in her meth-addicted sister who would disrupt my sleep daily, arguing with her meth-addicted Jiffy Lube boyfriend, as I worked two jobs—as an overnight stocker at a furniture store, and at McDonald's.

It was around this time my sleep schedule, occupied with constant borderline personality arguments with Becky and sleeping pills like Tylenol PM, felt so permanently disrupted my brain chemistry has never been the same.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a violent, ignored epidemic in America. Becky would tell me to hit her all the time, and walk out into traffic and have a stranger give her a ride to god knows where, when we had bad fights. One time she told me two guys had a van and told her to come to a party in it. I said, "Are you crazy? That's a rape story waiting to happen!" Being a thoroughly BPD case, she did it anyway; I have no idea if she had any kind of sex with anyone involved.

She had a problem with flannel shirts, and, when I pressed her about it, she explained that it was because she had a buttoned flannel shirt that a group of Rio Linda rednecks had unbuttoned violently to expose her breasts at school.

Becky rode the bus everywhere until about 22, despite being an attractive young girl; her parents never felt obligated to teach her to drive or help or protect her in any way, instead blaming her when things went awry for a 20-year-old forced to ride the bus among the redneck rapists, and I had about the same ridiculous, violent abuse from my Republican family—"Git out der and do fer yurself" is the hayseed battle cry from the suicidal loser rapists that vote red. That Republican ethos is a ludicrous, asinine falsehood that they all believe augurs success, but it never once has. It's really about a hatred for themselves, a Marxist alienation from their labor that causes them to have nihilistic and perverse attitudes towards their families, themselves, and especially their sexual dynamics. Sex is in large part about power; when someone feels powerless they take it out sexually on their community. I have basically lived in the toilet of that experience.

Becky's Dad was an Army chef and severely abusive toward her, often implying sexual relations with her. I met him once; he ushered me to come look at what he was watching on the internet. It was a woman getting run over by a train, which he laughed at. He had a very similar, Texas Chainsaw Massacre-esque perverted dark schadenfreude to my own father, and suffice to say, I did not like him. I felt that I had to save Becky from him, and those are some teenage feelings. Ultimately, take it from me when I say, no one can save anyone.

Becky had a sister who had an autistic nephew named Justin we constantly were tasked with babysitting. Alike to Helen Keller, he would eat the tops of your pizza or shit himself and scream and you just had to deal with it. Becky's sister received SSI which she used to pay people, namely Becky and I, to babysit this kid. That woman repeatedly told me to lie on government documents, and lie on job applications, to get the things I wanted; she was a Cancer, as was her husband, a construction manager who was flagrant with his money attempting to impress people because he had grown up poor. Later, after our relationship, Becky would infer that she and her brother-in-law had had sex when she lived with them. I felt like I was in some hayseed nightmare.

One day, I saw signs that Becky was cheating on me. I could smell the latex from a condom on her body. She would go to clubs and tell me she danced with guys, and they got erections; we were pretty open with each other, and she was pretty open about that much, so I assumed she wasn't fully having sex with anyone else. I assumed wrong.

I very angrily confronted her, and her response was, "I never did it in our bed!" She was a nymphomaniac who attempted to drag me into an open relationship with her near the end, so that she could have sex with more partners. Her subsequent partners included a cocaine dealer, and currently a trans FTM.

She would call me and just be silent on the phone for hours, as if the universe didn't actually want us to break up but we were doing it. The person Becky ended up marrying is a trans Female to Male state worker. In California, State Worker is the last vestige of careers where dreams go to die. When I think of all the energy and money I expended upon this girl, let alone the horrid arguments she would get in with me almost daily, trying to constantly get me to hit her so she could run to her family and say she was abused, with me saving her from herself and her situation, building a life, for her to just jump ship to some quasi-male with a state job, it makes me sick. Many Scorpios are like that, very terse, unapologetically shitty people who smoke, gamble, and cheat. If you confront them, they try to gaslight and narcissistic-ally abuse you.

I have some kind of kismet destiny with the sign of Scorpio, thus far not very successfully; many major players in my life have been Scorpios, and my natal chart has both midheaven and Jupiter in Scorpio. They're gross though, often picking their nose or reveling in farting, that kind of energy, and always lacking sexual and other boundaries, then, true to water sign form, narcissistic-ally gas lighting you about it. The element of water I believe to be the origin of psychopathy and other mental disorder, as well as somehow being associated with birth defects.

Becky continued to live in the apartment I had paid for, and saw other men there as well. One guy was in his 30s and his name was Yan, and he had a young son. When I was trying to get myself away from the situation I called the apartment and Yan's son answered, and refused to answer my questions about where my stuff had gone.

This is how many American women run their game: hide behind other men because they know you can't do anything without looking like a "bad guy" no matter how horrendous their behavior has been. This is the end waste product of decades of female empowerment and liberation: skanky cruelty and shifty, shady hoe behavior. Very empowered, good job. I always wondered why people like my Dad, as in most American males, had a pedophile streak, and I think the reason is largely that it takes so long to garner success in America, that most women are like Becky, and will seek a man who is already successful and nearer his 40s. This cycle is exacerbated by the sheer stupidity and base desire attitude most women propagate. Women wait at the finish line. Again, do not let political correctness obscure this reality for you.

Becky had a quasi-lesbianic relationship (many Scorpios are less than straight) with a girl named Jackie in High School. One day, we watched a plane crash news article from her home in Rio Linda, California, home of Rush Limbaugh, one of the worst white trash shitholes I've ever been to. The plane was a to-and-from Sacramento to where her friend's father lived. In Rio Linda, I saw piles of diapers and broken toilets stacked up next to barely clothed babies in meth auto-part strewn yards.

Becky panicked when she realized Jackie might be on that plane. After a few phone calls, she found out that she in fact was; Jackie was killed along with her Dad, who was a transsexual. Becky cried hysterically on a level I had never seen in my life, as if the world was ending literally, and she was never the same. Seeing this changed me in some way, I feel as though I saw through to some other world or something that day, very hard to explain.

I was living with Becky the morning of September 11, 2001. When we turned on the news to gather what was happening, she said, "What are they doing to us?" To which I said, "Who are they?" Honestly, my impression since about one year after 9/11 was that it was an inside job. I didn't have all the facts, or the narratives, no one did. But, I knew that whatever was bullshit about America all around me was also bullshit about this. If I had even one adult around who saw things that way I'd probably have a totally different life. Often professors and teachers have seen that I was intelligent and original in thought, but rarely could they ever do anything about the people in my life who are narcissistic abusers or, from behind the scenes, demand I attend to their psychopathy.

There was a ticker on the bottom of the news screen that day that indicated that Saddam Hussein may be involved. I remember thinking, "How could they possibly know that?"

The particular reaction to 9/11 that followed was largely driven by the idea that Bush was a bumbling idiot. And that's true, he was, but almost no one was talking about any potential "inside job" type of reality in the immediate aftermath. People bought flags and tried to have "solidarity" akin to what I assume Pearl Harbor was like. I never fell for any of that shit. I'm a truther for life.

After 9/11, I felt my relationship, country, and job prospects were fucked, not to mention how simply grossed out I was and am by the flagrant ignorance and rapist redneck qualities of Northern California, which is about 80% redneck wasteland and 10% political district, at least in and around Sacramento. The internet was beginning its death grip on society, and it's on the internet I was able to read countless conspiracy theories about who was really behind 9/11. I decided that was enough "'Murica."

The person whom I knew who had the highest paying job in Bush's America was Adolfo who made $10/hr as a sign holder on the side of the road. Adolfo was a sweet-natured punk rocker and a silly guy. He went from holding a sign to being a tattoo artist. He's dead now, overdosed on pills.

I saved money from a stint at an office supply store (where I simply could not get promoted despite selling more furniture than anyone, and being a major team player always, and perpetually being asked to break the law in terms of OSHA violations and the like), a couple thousand, and teamed up with my friend Josh (a Scorpio) and his girlfriend Sheena (a Capricorn) at the time, and we attempted to leave America for good. We did some research on the most peaceful and prosperous country and that was The Netherlands, so that's where we journeyed.

In the Netherlands, we could not get adequate work. We were losing money fast and in danger of being stranded in a foreign country with no hopes of employment. Frustrated and feeling doomed, we started just smoking hashish and drinking at underground bars there every day and night. The US Consulate in the Netherlands had barbed wire and armed guards, as opposed to the Swiss Consulate, which we also tried, which was just a clean and wide-open small office with 2 people in it. We flew back by the skin of our teeth, on September 11, 2002. All that effort to expatriate was pretty much in vain, and I had to start over completely in America. Imagine being a 20-something child of a WASP-y all-american family and flying with just a couple of friends back into this country on September 11.

Still, I did gather what it was like to be non-American, which I liked. I met people from many countries, most of whom thought it was funny we elect cowboys and the like President. We shared space in a hostel with psychonauts from Lithuania (do not come to my country, we'll rob you in the airport! he told us) and National Geographic photographers from Argentina. I met many people who never even want to visit America, perceiving it as a shithole country and just a warmongering beast, which it is.

Despite all of this, I tried to maintain a lot of positivity and have a positive mental attitude throughout my twenties. Punk positivity, like Bad Brains. The first concert I went to that I said to myself, "This is amazing!" was Subhumans. It was very real and free and authentic in the shitty '90s when things were very corporate and Clueless-esque. Since then I have mixed feelings about punk. I feel like the moment is gone.

I had been denied a safe family life, a higher education, or stability politically or socially, and exposed to some of the worst elements of the US and its underbelly since about 12 years old, but this was my one life and what was I going to do, give up and blame everyone else?

When we returned, Josh and I decided that one thing that was really cool about Sacramento was the music scene at the time. Bands like Hella, Tera Melos, Pregnant, and a handful of others were jamming a futuristic, shred positivism, almost ascetic shred, that was really amazing to me. I formed an 8-person band (that was more like a cult) that I wanted to be a mix of like Glam Rock and Weird Jazz, like New York Dolls meets Sun Ra.

We named our band in tribute to the Order of the Golden Dawn, an occult society. We shared a lot of views and interests with that society. A few years later I would go to the Theosophical Library in Pasadena and I really dug it; I felt like I had been there before. Theosophy and stuff of that nature has a lot to offer someone like me; it is the philosophy of the independent outsider.

Our band played a lot, with some revolving members, all over California, and a little into the Southwest. I made a lot of connections, like a nomadic tribe wandering from adjacent tribe to tribe: "What's your city like? What do people sound like here?" I love that feeling. I was particularly impressed with Arizona and its strangely progressive noise music and math rock scene. Some people there were really on another level. There's something about the mountainous terrain of the southwest that imbues a permanent curiosity and art quality to its denizens. People don't largely know that because I don't think there's ever been a huge artist from that region, but it's true.

But after playing for years through several bands amidst trying to also work jobs, with little success, I was again crestfallen and again wanted out of this situation. I had awful jobs here as well: data entry type things for companies like Quora or selling things on eBay at a slight profit.

I've always gravitated towards performance-based arts; later I would learn I'm a Life Path 3, which is a performer. Not so for Josh, who is a 1. Josh has a Leo Moon and I an Aquarius Moon, this is the same dynamic as John Lennon and Paul McCartney, one always wanting to be avant garde and political and the other wanting to be an entertainer and showman. We acquired a bassist named Melissa, whom Josh fell in love with; she had a lot in common with Sookie. He joined the Army, wherein he was diagnosed medically as a psychopath, and moved to Texas where he became a Republican psychopathic piece of shit just like the people I grew up around, mindlessly defending America as the greatest country, telling me my problems stemmed from hanging out with "leftist whores," and defending his princess of choice. You could say we grew apart, or you could say he's the most sell-out pussywhipped bitch I've ever seen, living a completely cookie-cutter fake Republican existence to keep up appearances because he's a psychopath, your choice there. Melissa subsequently posts on social media that her and her husband were “in a band,” and she cuts me out of pictures of the band that she posts. Talk about a cliche; once you let a girl in there everything ends rapidly, with the girl always using sex to manipulate the dudes, a tale as old as time..

Melissa is the kind of person to tell you everything is racist and white men are to blame whilst living in a redlined suburb in Texas from a VA loan paid for by the military industrial complex, which is exactly what happened. She has no feelings whatsoever about arriving in a band then hijacking one of the dudes from that band and breaking up his longest friendship. Most girls are that way; do not let political correctness blind you to that reality. When our mutual friend Bob died of suicide, because a girl left him, Josh texted me, "When you gonna grow up and be a man?" What a joke. That’s what a ‘man’ does in America, earn a middle class existence for a woman.

But that's what Republicanism is—your younger leftist leanings get buried and those arguments get forgotten so that the cycle can be completed. Beat up some gays, drink some beer and watch some sports, "'Murica" time! No faggots here, we all have wives! It makes me wretch to think I spent so much time with someone who would become exactly that.

I said to Josh, "Your idea of being grown up is having a mortgage, a motorcycle, a kid, just being suburban" and he said, "It sure is." End friendship. Despite me repeatedly trying to kowtow to everyone's happiness, he texted me probably once a month just to knife twist and attempt to shit on my life, because he had recapitulated the playbook of his trauma-induced Republican childhood and I had not. Republicans love simple narratives and derision, ya snowflake! Republicanism is exactly for people like Josh—psychopaths who are obsessed with appearances, and that's how all of these sex crimes, infidelity, child abuse, etc. etc. gets perpetuated. Appearances mean absolutely nothing and anyone who tells you otherwise is weak and shallow, and will suffer accordingly. It’s an old fashioned thought at this point, but quality of character and keeping up appearances cannot coincide.

I decided it might be good for me to do something other than play shows musically, feeling that lifestyle is really just making my life worse, and not feeling loved as a musician by my peers there. I met a girl named Brianna Lea Pruett in Placerville, who wanted to start a label, Tiger Friends. It became a relationship shortly after.

Brianna was very sweet, very lost, and a little crazy. She called me once because she needed someone to go with her to the mall. She simply could not go alone. One day sleeping with Brianna, she started putting on this really high voice. I asked her what that was about, and she confessed she had multiple personality disorder, from severe abuse. Her parents had sold her sexually to men at a young age and, she claimed, that included men who worked at Bohemian Grove, where political elites go to abuse minors.

Brianna also had a relationship with John C. Lilly, the dude who inspired "Day of the Dolphin" and "Altered States"; that much I know is true because I saw pictures of them together and annotated books with personal notes between them. She claimed he was abusive. She always had relationships with older men and it was pretty creepy.

Brianna and I did things like visit sweat lodges frequently as she was half Cherokee and in touch with her roots. I found that experience amazing, and truly eye-opening about how little we actually understand about the soul in the psychopathic, colonial west. We did a lot of yoga and discussed a lot of aspects of American music traditions. She was working on several documentaries simultaneously about American female songwriters and I gleaned a lot from those times.

In September of 2015, Brianna committed suicide. Many of her music friends reached out to me as if I knew why or what they could do. I didn't really want to get involved with her many small attempts at businesses; the legality was hairy and not profitable. So I pretty much stopped doing anything with the label, and attempted to start my own label, Eargasmic Phantastic.

I wanted to do projects that would not just be a roster of songs or music but rather "break the fourth wall" by having people cover their friends or write songs about insects or something more challenging, something more transparent, deliberate, earnest and weird. My concept was a label that was about challenges, that might exhibit the growth and development of artists rather than just an exhibition of their skills. Mostly geared for friends I had made through California and Arizona, it kinda folded after about two years.

In two trips I made to Sedona, Arizona, the new age capital of the US, two separate psychics told me I had the same soul pattern as Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ astrological chart can be ascertained by the so-called star of Bethlehem which was an astrological conjunction. Jesus Christ chart was Capricorn Ascendant, Pisces Sun, Aquarius Moon. My own chart is Capricorn Ascendant, Libra Sun, Aquarius Moon. I love Sedona, probably the most underrated city in the US.

I suggested to Katie many shows we should go to because that was my culture at the time. For one small moment, I was enjoying Sacramento, the people and culture that we had all fostered. I regret this very deeply. As a wicked vile narcissist and borderline if not diagnosable psychopath, what she did little by little was position herself into places of esteem with all of these people, so that when any shit would hit the fan about her behavior, she could make up lies and make herself look good. And that's exactly what she did.

We started fighting because of how terrible she is towards me, always. I'm not a felon, junkie, dead, meth addict or a Virgo, so I must not be her type. She fought more dementedly than I had ever seen, telling me to kill myself, insulting family members and just generally having BPD. She is incapable of making her own life or culture; she can only vulture others' cultures, homie hopping from one boyfriend's friend to another, leaving a slime trail of abuse behind.

It was to an extent that her ex-boyfriend who is disabled said, "Wow, I can't believe you're that horrible to Nick Stanifer." She behaves more like a virus than a human. She did more to destroy my life, my psyche and my self-esteem than anyone and that's saying something.

BPD girls love men who are not empowered in these ways; it's how they're able to leave a slime trail of the most disgusting behavior without recompense. They seek people without strong networks of support or who suffer from trauma because then they can control the situation. This way, no one is watching when they pull off horrors: screaming matches, infidelity, abuse, and of course it’s some else’s fault.

Katie slept with no fewer than 13, and probably many more (my guess is closer to 20), of my so-called music "friends," permanently destroying my health, safety and sanity around those environments (like I wanna jam with some dudes who would totally bang my girlfriend if I was simply not in the room), the entire time gaslighting me and texting me things like "don't ruin this for me" and "this is your fault" as she careened through an inconceivable amount of skanky band guy dick, some borderline homeless, some in open relationships.

Guys who were open misogynists were not beneath her conquest (despite pretending to be a very evolved feminist, deriding me, who is completely for true equality, as misogynistic and controlling, assuredly because I took umbrage with her fucking double digits of my friends), it didn't matter. This was her "ride the carousel" era, whomever it was caustic to be damned. The entire time she said revolting things like, "Yeah I call him and then I get off, what?" trying to pathetically have some quasi-masculine level of sex flexing.

Katie was narcissistic abusive, controlling, jealous, had borderline personality disorder, would do things like keep me from events or people, yet once given the chance to, I assume in her mind, elevate her status away from the junkie and meth boyfriends she had previous, would throw anyone under the bus or do anything to look good and maintain favor. Like Courtney Love or Nancy Spungen, she used me to maintain face then when I wasn’t prime real estate used me as a whipping boy for all of her insane abuse.

Katie went in one to two years from acting and presenting as my girlfriend in every way to messaging me things like "honestly I don't even think of you that often so keep my name out of your fucking mouth" as she boned a baker's dozen of my so-called friends.

Katie had sex with so many of my acquaintances, that one day I was sleeping on one guy’s couch, and he had slept with her, and in saunters his roommate, and he had slept with her. Revolting.

The Narc mask drop was so intense on this person that she would stand 5 feet away from me at events and so forth and act like I wasn't there. True worthless shitbag of a human, but as a female in leftist California, gets away with any and every behavior. Literally no one chastised her for her incredibly abusive and disgusting behavior.

I have never needed a friend more than this 2018ish era of my life, and yet friends were quite thin. The only person that "sided" with me about Katie had me sleeping on his couch almost every weekend. Neither of us had money, so it was strained. Of course, he had also had sex with Katie. His roommate? Had also had sex with Katie. Katie subsequently appeared in music videos with other friends, etc. etc. just generally copping my style and ideas with the access key of vagina, trying to be like me in some weird way I don't fully understand.

As far as I'm concerned a matrix of My Dad-Becky-Katie stole my youth from me. I never, ever did something approaching anything any of them did, many times protecting them or saving their lives from suicide attempts or violence, yet they were able to run game all over me for a decade, without recompense, and in the end with me looking like the bad guy. When I hear about people who were in prison for their whole 20s, I don't really feel much different than them. I was kept away from healthy, happy and proactive environments by psychopaths for most of my young life.

Katie physically accosted me, hitting me in a drunken rage, abused all my resources social and spiritual, put my life in danger and diminished my belief in the people around me and myself. But she lost literally zero acquaintances no matter how open I am and will continue to be about her and others' flagrant and noxious abuse. I'm usually pretty forgiving but I wish I never met this person, full stop. She is the embodiment of why the right wing in America hates the left; she has no sense of accountability, moral boundaries, or morality at all whatsoever, and I feel sorry for people who still associate with her despite her being violent with even the dudes who followed me. She is the least trustworthy, least sane, least "good" person I've ever gotten close to, and that's saying something.

She drove all the way from Sacramento to San Francisco to sleep with one friend. He later told me they imbibed LSD and she said she was the whore of Babylon, praising the size of his penis et al. After that, she still tried to hang out with me, assumedly to continue to glean more fuck buddies who were somehow a cut above the junkie-and-meth-addict continuum she was used to. She then blamed me for the whole event.

She had sex with so many people I know that sometimes when I was talking to one or another of them I would say "this girl Katie did this thing" and I'd have to be reminded they knew her, biblically. She slept with dudes while their girlfriends were across the street. She endangered herself and everyone constantly, narcissistically gaslighting and threatening anyone who challenged her.

Katie would call me and say things like, "Don't ruin this for me" whilst banging a litany of my friends. She, to this day, uses a flagrantly "I'm better than you" tone towards me because she feels she proved she is the big dog and not me by passing around vagina like a buffet.

Katie, like the rest of the sociopathic monsters in my life, never once said "sorry" for anything she ever did to me.

Meanwhile, on social media, she would take any opportunity to make me look bad for clout, calling me ‘racist’ in one post for deriding the religion not race of Islam (this from a girl who grew up with a swastika painted in her garage) or misogynistic in other posts like yeah, bang 20 of a dude’s friends and be a total bitch to him then expect he have good manners about it.

Then, in the DM space, she would try to bully and control me from telling anyone anything she did lest she look bad. She told others outright lies to control the flow of attention, capitalizing on the cancelling trend to attempt to cancel me so I couldn't point her out as the treacherous dog she is, knowing I was gonna out her.

She did everything from spin it in such a way that it looked like me who she was getting drugs for (which never happened), which she said publicly for my mom and everyone else to see on Facebook, to becoming enraged when I pointed out she once derided me for being for defunding the police, as she wanted leftist clout.

If Katie had to be Islamic for three weeks, she'd be dead on the side of the road. She would probably already be dead, if she didn't abuse and deride her way into manipulating others into not committing violence upon her for her unforgivable behavior. Dealing with her is the only time in my life I started to say publicly how bad this abuser was, to a resounding "no one cares bro" that you can expect from millenials, the least moral generation probably ever. Even when I initially wrote this as an article, I got "take that down" from her camp. Nothing is more pathetic than enablers of abuse. Still, people treat her like a real authentic leftist cool girl. This makes me wanna throw up.

In 2018, my dad died. My mom forced me to call Sookie to try to pinch a few pennies out of his estate. Sookie talked to me just exactly as if it was 1986, in her trademark condescending tone; she encouraged me to "do something I'm passionate about with my life." Like yeah Sookie, I may have if I was afforded a healthy beginning of my life instead of carrying severe PTSD from your behavior, but that's America, hidden abuse and neglect disguised as dreams. How my mom thought that was appropriate to ask me to do is beyond reason. I felt like one of the kids in Flowers in the Attic.

She clinically asked me why I wanted to know personal details of my Dad's estate. I never really wanted anything from my dad, except for maybe the Nazi painting that his dad had done as a WWII POW guard, because that’s neat. I got absolutely nothing, not one dollar, nor the paintings, Sookie inherited everything, including houses in Oklahoma. Sookie uses her electrical engineering degree she earned to teach at a Christian school in Texas, informing all those innocent minds of the "good news" of Jesus or whatever. The rattlesnake strikes again.

The Jesus of America is a testable and virulent lie, very easily disproven and extremely toxic to anyone's life who is touched by its maniacal perversion of spirituality. That's exactly why it appeals to all in America who need a tool to exacerbate their psychopathically inflated egos. In my opinion, in a lifetime of living under it, you are actually dealing with the religion of The Demiurge, a false and materialistic illusory spell, when dealing with American Christianity. If the Prosperity Gospel is true, and God ‘smiles upon America’ because of its ‘liberty and Christianity’, then why has China, an aesthetic communist state, produced more billionaires than in all of human history in the period between 2017 and 2020 alone? Protestantism and Prosperity Gospel are not true, and are perhaps the greatest lie ever told, under which every atrocity from genocide of native peoples to racist housing and financial policy are built. American Jesus cannot exist, yet, persists in being the central brainwash that ideologically builds the structure under which you are punished for being hurt or in need, while rewarded fro being a corporate shill or raider. The most vile personalities are ‘blessed’ in America because they abuse and capitalize upon people’s efforts. That alone is reason enough to dismantle the inherently wicked American iteration of capitalism. It’s opposite is not Socialism, its opposite is human decency and compassion.

Jesus isn’t real, he isn’t coming back, and you are wasting your life and energy praying to an anachronism that is really the voice of your own wounds from abject suffering you feel sorry for yourself for. Imposing that upon children is truly perverse and disgusting. America is the most violent, murderous empire of all time, and empires are united under monotheistic religions, as Charlemagne and Machiavelli knew. Christianity is simply a tool for the ruling powers to hide their violence, rape, and plundering, and people who fall for it are fools.. If they can't even figure that basic knowledge out, they have a breathtaking absence of ability to reason and should not be able to vote and thus affect elections.

At around the same time my Dad died, I started talking to a girl named Siobhan, who has almost an identical astrological chart to me. At first she seemed very fun and sweet, but surprise! There was darkness. She had an ex-husband lurking around, who was in a semi-successful band called Girls whose singer was an H&M poster boy, and, as I was quitting smoking and my nerves were wracked and taut, she, in a Borderline Personality Disorder fit of rage, had sex with him, and sent me pictures of the post coitus jizz puddle on her back and butt. This was immediately followed with calling me a loser for not being employed and other means of outsourcing the blame and trauma, sending me pictures of McDonald's and telling me to try to get hired there. Siobhan threatened to kill me and also to have me beaten up by bikers. This all added a last hysterical fuel to the fire of my increasingly shut in behavior.

In true BPD girl fashion she then tried to "make up," blocked me, threatened suicide, and ultimately blamed me of course. She threatened me to not tell anyone any terrible thing that she had done to me. She told me she had a lawyer who, and I quote, "Served at the supreme court" (to which I said serves what? Sandwiches?) She lied about a bunch of things like most BPD girls. When I tried to say publicly, "This girl is crazy bad news" people of course treated me like I was doing something you simply don't do. Exposing girls as violent, BPD nightmares is a faux pas because our society is in no way "equal." It protects and fosters sociopaths. Ain't that America, home of the free!

It's around this time I thought starting a cult might be a good alternative to functioning in this system. A somewhat tongue in cheek alternative to a band modality, I thought cults could maybe be a way to exercise the Aquarian way of small groups being the future while creating my own neologisms and art through that branding. I encountered a cult called The Daylife Army who were doing pretty much exactly that, who had in their ranks the son of the head of The Ayn Rand Institute, Yarron Brook, and the sister of a member of the band TV On The Radio. Yarron Brook’s son, Edaan, has mentioned that he and his father were told to stay out of the World Trade Center on September 11.

I did the millennial reset of returning to my mom's house, where I was supposed to go to school again. Every day I am here, my mom derides me and punishes me for not being a rich guy, telling me money is all that matters and praising Trump and other sociopathic predators. True Earth Sign shit. Whenever someone is a Virgo on television with a Virgo opinion, she says ‘They’re so smart’, and whenever a Libra speaks she says, “That person is an idiot!” She doesn’t seem to process or care that it is that type of thinking that gave her an incestual abuser husband and a deeply traumatized child.

She's voting for Trump. I spend a lot of time here writing.

Most everyone living has tried to force me to take this article down or remove the part about them. That’s because they are psychopathic narcissists who want to change reality for their benefit. They can only bully me rather than disprove anything. That is life.