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    Posted: 07/30/2016 at 12:30

 

( Minces in to the tune of Karma Chameleon in the manner of a properly open minded person. )

Hello Everybody !

To begin with, I must make my 'mutterers murmurous' confession-admission and state that I do speak my thoughts and talk to myself. In a moderated manner. I figured I might have a go at talking to myself here .. I don’t usually write at anybody in particular, and so by all means read, but please do not take anything too personally. Also, feel free to bail out whenever, or, alternatively .. You are welcome to sing me a 'Just F off and die' rendition of Destined For nothing ( using minimal other words and maximum repetition, ie, 'I really think that you should just, f, off, and die, I do think you should F off and die, by all means just F off and die, just F off a die, F off and die. Just F off and die .. if you like. )

My favorite BR songs are Walk Away, The Lie, Avalon, Pilgrim, Materialist, Entropy, God Song, Operation Rescue, Come Join Us, Skyscraper ..

I have so much respect for their music.

I know it isn't going to get me any friends around here, But I do watch boxsets of certain TV programs, for instance, 24, and Stargate SG-1 ( I recommend 'Window Of Opportunity' ) ( I’ve always wanted to wear a Prior of the Ori costume to a BR gig, and then do my silliest synthesis of Drum and bass and slam, dancing while wearing it ).

As a devoted atheist, I also really like Tim Minchin, and Carl Sagan and all the wonderful writers on this brilliant subject, which I feel is probably the only hope for humanity.

I myself, personally spend much of my time striving to be the best person I can be. I don’t always manage very much, but, humans are often flawed. I do my best to respect the incredible body that science has helped me to understand. I eat correctly, and exercise enough.

I know hate is a bad thing, but unfortunately, I am not able to part with it. Therefore I am including an honest, and heartfelt Recipe for ( I hope healthy, helpful .. ) Hate’ ( if it’ll fit ) as I feel it is best to own up to these dark urges.

I also really like interesting words. One of my favorite words is 'contraption' ( Especially good if used to describe large objects, such as bridges, cranes, etc ) and another is 'perpendicular'.

Books ? Things like .. Physiology of Behaviour ( Carlson ). The BNF ( I call this the book of bumpf for many reasons ), A Solzenitzeyn, Gulag ( aw, that's a slog, one I happen to like ), August 1914, Cancerward, etc. Roget’s Thesaurus, Usage and Abusage .. Lewis’s Dictionary of Toxicology.

Now, for a bit about me myself, what I am like, have been through and get up to ..

If there are any errors in this document, I apologize, but my usually almost non-existent mental filters fell apart last week. I had an episode of what I call Mustard and one, of Spider last week. This does not help me to avoid ‘noticing everything while being unable to pay attention to anything’ most the time, though I can –also- get up to sucessful functional stuff while this is going on. I have made an effort with this document ( which I do while resting ) but my brain really is a mess.

Er .. It takes little to amuse my brain. For instance, yesterday, I responded to the charity shops ( please do not judge me too harshly for needing things, I happen to like and require stuff ) doing a rather drab and musty, yet earthy, ‘wood, tweed, frilly porcelain and drab floral’ theme ( meaning I couldn’t do my usual thing of, while hunting useful things for camp, bumping into gaudy, atrocious ornaments, picking them up, holding them with reverence and proclaiming 'Oh my GOD - It's Beautiful, or standing, formally before it and firmly announcing 'Stylish’ ) by obtaining myself a plastic peacock, on a stick, with head/neck, wings, tail and legs on little springs, painted bright, clashing shades of colours, red, pink, yellow, a bit of blue on the flight feathers, a green crest and pink-green pale iridescent glitter on the tail, which is sprung in three clumps. All of this is out of proportion and mainly made from hard clattering plastic and really rubbish paint. It is the pooest peakcock ever. Despite the fact there were no sequins .. It is easily the sh’est, most marvelously awful object I have ever beheld and trust me, that's saying something. I don’t horde crap, but this specimen was too spectacular to leave behind. I must now lug this thing to the wood. Er .. The label says ‘Roots and Shoots’ ‘Peacock with moving tail’, and ‘Quality products to enhance your garden’ .. Oh yeah ! Oh well, simple things please simple minds ..

What what what ? Why Live In A Wood, what about that ? ( I’ve been having a brain problem, it’s got a tic about ‘What’ and ‘Why’ and when I get a what, I think why, and when I’m thinking what, I’m also wondering why, only I don’t know why or what about. I don’t mind, things like this keep a messy brain busy fairly harmlessly. ) ( I keep being reminded of things I call ‘F-whats’, they are whatever is on the other end of ‘What the F is That’, if this remains unexplained. It could be an organic organism, or an object in a charity shop that was a F-what, and remined an F-What, because we never worked out WTF is was .. )

I live in a wood, I actually do.

I have somewhere else, where I go as seldom as possible ( 'lest someone end up in their own entrails ) but it is infested with noise from the neighbors, who are loud, rude and ugly morning, afternoon, evening and all night every night. I think they consider the flat an auditory drainage ditch, gutter, or sewer. These people are incapable of exhibiting any manners, and are completely greedy. They disgust me utterly.

The disruption means I am under stimulated in regard to what I do what, and need to do, and over stimulated by stuff I do not consent to. This is, obviously, bad.

I also have problems with people in general. Not every person is bad, but there are some that are worse than others, and for some reason, they sift out of the general population and come at me. Perhaps it is the chronic pain, maybe it is the trauma ( even when happy I look damaged - They just cannot resist it. If someone feeling sorry for themselves during a bad day is like a strong cup of coffee they can't handle, I'm like crack and crystal meth combined - It blows their poxy little ego-addled minds, and they often end up bumping at me like a bee on a windowpane. Then there is my absolutely poo, catastrophically crap neural inhibition, which, via the mirror neuron system, they can’t deal with themselves, and coming from me, irritates the hell out of them. It must have been bad all along, then some abusers tried to hijack it and it got worse ( they destroyed the thing they were trying to get their hands on in the process of doing so, the idiots. )

Alas, I got sorted out ( I'm twice 'Done', the second was a good one. I am glad it happened, as otherwise I'd be a barging, grabbing, raging lunatic. I have damage from both, at least that one left me able to control myself and be a self-made someone, instead of just behaving like a bratzi with the wits of a girl ), so don't get behavioural disinhibition ( I ( as in I ‘item’ not I ‘ego’ ) have a thalamus-pons, not frontal lobe, issue ), but ego-people do ( via the mirror neuron system ) and wow ! What a display they put on ! They only came to poke me because they thought they'd get a cheap, easy ego trip, but I do still have will, and intellect, and the poor things end up with a white elephant project .. They invest more and more, and yet never attain success. I never, ever act in the demented way demented they desire. I don't care what I do providing it isn't what they want me to, while they want their exact way, a narrow and specific thing, I have many options. The harder they try to chase or shove the 'inconvenient' will out of me, the more strongly it manifests. They attempt to manipulate me based on the presumption I have low self-esteem, well, I have no self-esteem, I did this myself, to ensure that my very dopaminergic brain did not go 'grandiose-mania' insane, and it also means such ‘games’ don’t work with me. They presume, because of the general 'clues' they see about me, that if they poke the right button, they will get themselves a spineless doormat to ponce about on, but no.

I do not implode into anxiety, diffuse into transmarginal inhibition or collapse into learned helplessness – I’m a traumapath, and just do not have what I call 'psychological lowercase ptsd' - A thing, over and over again, hardly chaning, like the song 'Ten Green Bottles', Nope. I call it Capslock PTSD, and it goes .. 10 green hand grenades sitting on a wall, and if one green hand grenade should accidently fall .. There'll be no green hand grenades not even the bloody wall. ( Fromschool ). I get stressed easily, but once stressed I can take more than, and, the fact that I am angry per se aside, I can control myself better, than normal people. Which some of them find annoying.

( Deploys Doily )

I have an IDC-10 diagnosis of PTSD ( my only one, it covers the lot, including aspects of other things from that category and it's kin ) and it is severe. It was diagnosed in regard to an assault in adulthood, but there is more to it than that ( the lovely people who borrowed me thought it was a ‘wholesome’ developmental game to scream and shout at me to eat food that simply wasn’t there, and to keep doing so whether I pretended to or not, they also used dehydration in an attempt to get me to associate relief of it with certain stimulation, which was sweet of them ). It is so severe ( all criteria met in more than one way both as a child and as an adult - I'm not exactly Kakihara as I'm not into abuse, but at least I'm not anything like Ichi ), drugs are a risk not worth taking providing I don't just mutter and drift my days and marbles away expensively and ( paradoxical response prone ) I ( or more accurately what's left of me ) happen to agree.

''But I am not, actually, Pavlov’s Bloody Dog. I am in fact, more like, Schrodinger’s F'ing Cat ..’’

I do not react well to attempts at forced-habituation, either, especially when it is coming from people who seem to think they are The Bear Man from Planet Earth Live ( the uncut version is .. ), when they are, in fact, the exact opposite. Anyway ..

I'd be multiple-dissociative, only I can't blot out, wall off or otherwise segment, my mind, and I don't get amnesia, so, I lack the all-important discontinuity of awareness. My own departments are just different modes of me, there is no discord, and the recorded abusers personas are just paralyzed shells with no autonomy, they just affect my accent ( eg accent slag, a rude, stroppy, glum, bargy, domineering teenage-toddler with a German / Russian arabic-mediterranian, was a pratwatatzi 'ring leader', and I normally speak in a solid English accent ) and to a degree mood. I do all I can to get rid of them. ( On the subject of voice, I've been doing BR songs an entire octave down this last week. I can do it typical bass style, and in the normal style, just deeper. Fertile Crescent is an ass. )

( 'The creaking sweet and twinkly creep bratzi girl wits describes reminds me of 'harrowman', he hangs around with the bip bip bitch that I call 'accent slag' / Hey you, I can't deny, that this song's not very butch. Hey you, I can't deny, that I feel like I'm dancing to Right Said Fred .. ' )

On a more interesting note :

If I relayed more, no one would believe me, see, it serves as a protective measure to act so weirdly no one will believe the victim if they speak with any accuracy :

In a small, religious community, a child has become 'possessed by a demon'. It is furious, behaviorally-disturbed, it makes 'crude' gestures, tries to hurt itself and others and it speaks of 'unspeakable things' that 'no man of the cloth' would ever do, performed by a peculiar-looking, ‘cloaked’ entity ( the demon possessing the child is clearly trying to deprive the community of its spiritual pivot, its priest, so as to sever their link to the savior, church and god - Help ! ). It is deemed 'evil' and 'in need of help' and so is handed over to the priest who plans to perform 'an exorcism'. He straps the tiny ( obviously just traumatized ) child to a bed ( often the very same bed .. ) for hours, maybe days, and then, he comes in, burning weird-smelling incense that makes sensitive young eyes water and sting, he chants, recites, shouts, grabs, shakes ( see I was so soft with you before, then you told on me and see now how I touch you ), screams and rants and at first, the child rages, and rages, and rages. After a while, or repeated sessions, the child's nervous system collapses from exhaustion and psychiatric shock sets in. It is broken, and from then on 'is a little angel, meek and mild, so quiet and still and spiritual' and so in being dealt with becomes a deterrent to the other children ( who simply see that 'that child doesn't play anymore, I don't want to end up like that' ), the perfect warning about 'what will happen to you if you tell'' .. On the ‘he'so’vile priest !

I mean ( cue prat voice ‘ I don’t believe that I mean why would anyone do that, hey, what would be the point, they are just lying, attention seeking, or insane, yeah, they are that all it is, yeah..’ ), if an abuser is absurd enough, wears a strange enough costume, does utterly unbelievable things then providing they don’t leave any hard physical evidence, the normal world will give the person an incentive to shut up about it, and stop ‘Too Much Information’ ( failed transmarginal inhibition ) from escaping / leaking.

Anyway,

The above ‘stuff’ also contributes to some of the problems I have with people, although it never seems to cause any issues with humane beings.

Moving on ..

I would like to note here that despite my current ( and apparently permanent ) splendid illness, my camp is an orderly place. Neat, clean and very careful.  One of the people who raised me was an engineer at sea, so I do have an appreciation of the art and practice of keeping things ship shape. For example, I store, stow and stash carefully, therefore my things last. I do not litter ( I even separate out some recycling ). I have a practical tough, grubby-translucent-polythene shelter ( tents get vile in the longer term ) and a stowed roll of waterproof fixing tape, I lug decent food, my supplements ( my ‘not actually magic potion’ a green, iridescent mix of grass, hemp, creatine, psyllium husks, N-acetyl cysteine, BCAA and mixed amino, electrolytes, etc, dust ), water, the works. I even use an ashtray. I have a stove, which I am careful with. I am as hygienic as I can be, but realistic in that the water it takes to be meaningfully clean is a fraction of what is needed to be actually clean, especially by my damn standard, which is higher than average. Note : Despite my lowly status on the physical plane, I do have some airs and graces, for instance, though my main 'calling' is as The Grand Magus of Looroll, I do also 'moonlight' as The Goddess of Wetwiping. So, if ever anyone needs cognitive 'remote assistance' with the sacred bathing act during times of scare supplies - Pray to me, baby, pray to me ! It's probably the only thing in the whole world that ragged I really do know what's what about. ( Just as bad light is hard to see in in itself, but eventually will cause permanent damage to the eyes themselves, meaning it is generally hard to see with them, even when the light is fine, Gaslighting does permanent damage. )

The final factor that seems to contribute to why I witness the ridiculous things I do, is an 'illness' that I had in twenty thirteen, which has left me with some rather odd traits. It absolutely wreaked me, and yet also made my nervous system more intense. I look like a dropped puppet when resting, not ‘actively’ activating muscles, but when up, I am faster, stronger and more flexible, also, my mental filters are worse, but in a way, that means I have more speed and content to cope with the fact I can’t cope with, which is confusing ..

( ‘’A terri-fy-ing neurol-ogy that I really don’t want to have happening to me ..’’ To another .. I’d agree. For me, locally, isn’t all that bad, the first bouts are the worst, I had no reason to think I’d survive as anything except a cabbage, but after that it’s ok enough. )

I had a tooth infection, which wasn't nice, and it suddenly got worse, but that wasn't the problem. At first I thought it was septicemia or toxic shock, but no .. Then, serotonin syndrome or perhaps a random disease, and eventually, I have concluded that it may have been thyrotoxicosis and the only thing I am not in any doubt about was that I had more than one bout of excitotoxicity. I tried to get help, but was treated like an idiot. I couldn't take the risk and figured I'd be better off dealing with it myself. I still remember the terms I used, and what went on. I have a degree of delirium at times but was not out of my wits. I systemized it / the components thus :

Mustard : It is a fast, contracting', odd 'jumping-yet-thunking', up and down, but with a slight diagonal tilt ( for me left slightly up, right down ), it's like chest compressions, yet not. It reminds me of peeled frog’s legs with salt on them. It is fast, too. I know what to do with it now, and am often in a good mood during it, and yet, if I use a mirror, my eyes are best described as if they are those of a ..

Startled, annoyed corpse.

It's got a fair bit of kick once it gets going, and yet it starts gently and interestingly, for me, with 'Hi, Hi .. HIGH' ( to mimic a bit of this, smear strong english mustard over the tongue and then breathe ) which is really cool. Then an odd sort of vague, background bobbing comes on, which is actually quite nice. So I bob about on the spot, contented, but after a while, it gets more prominent, and eventually it gets really harsh and it climaxes in a dangerous state which if left to its own devices, could result in me fracturing or breaking bones ( I worry about my neck ), and I have harmed ligaments as well as tendons, despite the fact my muscles seem slack. Note - There is one song that will strike a nerve and set it off a treat, but I suppose that is just random. It works best when that, is combined with the following :

Spider ! This is a confusing one, as I use the term to refer to a number of things that are similar and yet not the same. It is a slow, curving, expanding, arcing, twisting 'pivoted' movement disorder I initially called 'spider' because it totaled what was left of my neural inhibition, and it was as if my brain was the spiders body, senses the legs and the web, the mind.

It makes me feel like kelp in complex current.

It also caused me a thing I call 'Apneutaxic Breathing' a mix of ataxic and apneuetic styles, which was why I wondered if it was a neurotoxin from a bug ( more an anaerobe, not arachnid ). It's as if I am being waterboarded, drowned and judging by the exophthalmia I saw ( my pupils were dilated, and vision was lame, but no distortions ) on a few occasions, it is associated with a serious encephalopathy and increased intra cranial pressure. I've seen other people that remind me of it, or seem to have a degree of its effects, but they all seem kind of spineless, a sort of stalled, hesitant, er .. Nervous disposition and yet it makes me .. The antithesis of a fluffy bunny. I first met The Four F's Of PTSD ( What The F ? F'ing Hell ! For F's Sake, and F That. ) just after it kicked in one time ( see note below this paragraph ). Once Spider is in ( Mustard has a distinct but gradual onset, spider creep up on me ), I end up spidering around' very oddly, but I am not utterly sure that this isn't a different, but similar kelp-like thing I call .. Hyperspatial Alien. 

( Note below the above paragraph : It ( Spider ) makes me very ill, but I had to get away from what I call a Rage Bot, it's an odd reaction some people get when they encounter me, the eyes throb grottily, buzz, positively pound and pulse, speech is pretty much reduced to crude grunts, etc and once one has popped ( you know one is about to pop when the eyes go from that to a more flashing, darting, stabbing version of it ) thus, they remain crude-yet-empty ( it reminds me of manganese poisoning ) like a photocopy of the original oil painting. I then call them 'lobots', which, when in a bad mood, are called 'grotbots' and er .. I've nearly been killed by one. Very hands on, smash me off stuff, tried to break my arms, smashed me around a bit more, then tried to break my neck - Lovely stuff. Anyway, when one of these little darlings happens to me, I refer to it as .. 'Getting Botted At' - It isn't very nice. They are more like Mustard, yet not. I have actually seen this, in a file, it rears up, and then 'Animal-on-a-block-push-button-strings-slacken-animal-plops' toy-style, the person dampens it. It looks conscious, from what I know about eyes due to my no-op-no-prism strabambysquint problem. The file is the 'light' section from ( when lecturing, some of this person's movements remind me of happy noodle boy from JTHM ) Feynman’s 'Seeing Things' ( give the guy a 'break', it was going to happen anyway ) and it only lasts a few moments, but it is very distinctive. )

Yes I like quality Sci – Fi ( Hello, Alien Films ) but no, this is not a joke, I used the motif to steady my mind - It was an excitotoxic fry, I think my brain almost coned, could not get my eyes central, or keep them still, I had delirium, but was not out of my wits, could do things someone that ill psychiatrically would just not be able to do, had apneutaxic breathing ( which felt like it was ramming my brain out of my cranium ), and I also found myself edging into nigh decerebrate and decorticate posturing at times, I could override it, but the moment I stopped focusing, it'd return.. I pondered a low-dopamine alternative form of neuroleptic malignant syndrome, but it just didn’t fit. It was as if a huge, advanced nervous system was trying to wear me as a glove, and as for the eyes, I joked to try and calm myself down that though whatever it is, it may have eye stalks, I, do not, so would it mind not trying to wave my eye balls around ( that my eyes were trying to clamber out of my eye sockets ) and that I have hinged joints, not flexible tentacles, etc. Ow. It was like being pulled apart on a rack, only the stretching was coming from within, not without. I was pushing ( I could reduce but not stop it ) not being pulled, but it felt like I was being stretched, pulled. There was also a bending, warping, arcing aspect to it, so more like being stitched to a stretchy membrane that is the pulled outward left-right up-down and diagonally on the flat while it was also being twisted and turned 'depth wise'. ) ( I have not experienced nausea since this event. I don’t puke by default, have to do it mechanically when I work out that I need to. I think my brainstem is a bit buggered, but all things considered, it should have been a lot worse.

Other physical symptoms that go with all this : Nails hardly grow, all bacteria die off, wounds don't heal or do so in slow motion, bones buzz then feel fractured. Gut slows but doesn't ferment, etc and a thing I call X, which feels nice at first but becomes very, very nasty very very fast. I think it causes ventricular tachycardia, but I’m not sure.

I have come to wonder if this is due to the accidental production of a faulty enzyme that is causing an endogenous cytotoxin ( these seem to have the closest effects to what I had going on ) to be produced ( like a Nitrogen Mustard, Or Tyrosine kinase Inhibitor .. ) Now, Mustard and Spider can occur alone or together, together they are like a mild version of the hyperspatial alien, ish. XX5’2’’50K I, who can move rather well, call this ‘Perfectly Correlated Huntington’s Chorea’ ( It’s Ballistic-yet-meticulous, precise but random ). The mustard gives rhythm, speed, intricacy, the spider, angles and space, flow and form. This is a 'dance' best done to er, strike a nerve, or, more accurately to fry, an entire Central Nervous System.

In conclusion I note, I am fairly fit, despite the ticks, and as much as I may moan, I’m still fairly robust.

Okay, bored of that .. ( Deposits Lemon with a name written on it ) ( The image of a lemon is the ultimate full ( neural ) stop of the mind.

A few Q’s : The following questions make me sound rather snide, but they are not intended to be. I mean no harm, I just have an uppity brain, and I found the first three interesting. Er ..

( READY )

‘’Have you ever calculated the bands carbon footprint ?’’

( TAKE AIM )

‘’Do you think the message has made enough people conscientious enough to compensate for it ?’’

( RANGE )

‘’Have you ever thought about how much entropy has ‘occurred’ as a consequence of the music, or that song itself ?’’

( FIRE ! )

‘’I don’t like the whole ‘help themselves thing’ and so was wondering, can I have official permission to make a ‘Pete Gabriel song, genesis song .. Just a punk cover version of a Phil Collins song cover of Ad Hominin, if / when I can sort out the means, please ?’’

( JUST .. )

I hope I don’t sound like one of those People who do the whole : Me me me, me me, me me me, me me me, me me, IN MY OPINION .. I, I I, I I I I I - I FEEL THAT - Blah blah blah blah blah and, BELIEVE BECAUSE, I I I, I I SAY SO, which is why .. Yada yada yada yada YOU SHOULD .. and if you won't then you shall experience the .. Bip bip bip bip bip ! BITCH ! ING ! Thing .. ( Note, when I refuse to do what such a pratzi or twatzi wants, they go ''But .. Butt ..' And I go 'FU !!' very, very suddely and loudly. It is okay, if used carefully .. )

( SHOOT ME. )

Ps : A ‘keener question’ to go with my somewhat ‘might be’ just mildly traumapathic ( psychopaths specialize in making lies seem like the truth, traumapaths can make the truth seem like a sarcastic lie ) F’ing-Sucky’ intro : ‘’If you could influence anyone, and-or everyone, in any way at all, what would it be and why ?’’

I’m done doing my butt-kicking-ass-licking beta act now. So ..

I think there is a place for hate in this world, and I hope the Recipe for Hate I am about to present would leave the world a better place if such people were dealt with rather than pandered to, but then again, as Far as the scum that does the following kind of stuff is concerned, who am I to decide when it comes to what people-people do to me ?

Recipe for ( I hope healthy .. ) Hate :

I Hate :

People who can’t control themselves around a pained or damaged person. What despicable weakness.

People who expect me to set aside or otherwise do without my human rights for their personal enjoyment, or mere convenience.

People who won't take 'No Means No' for an answer.

People who violate human rights, this includes people who violate them by seeking to use them for inane, 'surplus' personal gain.

People who expect me to do what they don't have to and not do what they can.

People who think that I’m damaged the way I am because I am weak. Nope. Weak people don’t need much done to them, the will breaks and the ego is trained to be what they want it to be. Easy as Pie !

People who think I lack the PTSD trait of ‘trigger – reminder’ avoidance, because I hunt down issues and deal with them. Also a ‘nope’, I really need rid of them, properly, I can’t block stuff out or ignore things, and can’t stand hanging around such, even if it is a maximum mental distance.

People who lack self-control and so try to control others or at least make them lose control in order to feel they have something to do with control.

People who are, or who behave like, what I call pratwatzis. The psychopathic ( Hare Checklist and The Mask Of Sanity ), sadistic, narcissistic scum that messed me up when I was young ( brats with the wits of a girl, who got themselves a system for helping themselves to youngsters ).

People who think I am a bad person because I want to cut the people who abused me as a child open, cauterize the wounds and then punch them to death with their own entrails wrapped round my fist. Well, how else am I meant to feel about the pratwatzis ? They used to lock me down until I solid myself, then shout and scream at me for being dirty and lazy and not using the loo, for F’s sake. They also used to pretend I loved then and was their friend no matter how much I strived to repel, or escape, get rid of, them, get them to understand I hated them. They really weren’t the nicest of people.

People who try to make it so that no matter what you do, or don't do, it is what they want you to, but there’s worse ..

People who don't even care what's going on, they just get nasty with me if I do anything that might disgruntle their delusional state.

People who feel a need to do ‘crazy making’, to physically bring about experiences for a victim that are like the psychosis the abuser has been unable to literally inflict.

People who do, or are into, a despicable thing called 'Gaslighting'. I hate Gaslighting, and I detest dim-witted gaslighters such as the pratwatzis the most.

People who have any degree of common-or-garden, clinical Psychopathy ( See The Hare Checklist, Mask Of Sanity ), Narcissistic and Sadistic ( et al cetera ) personality disorders, sorry, I mean sacred individual, personal quirks.

People who trip over or bump into a conclusion and go 'that'll do' and process no further. It's even worse when, having just presented me with stark evidence of their laziness and shoddy cognition, they then presume I'll accept their conclusion over my own or the absence of one to investigate.

People who just go right ahead and help themselves to deciding ( wrongly ) for me what I am doing and-or why I'm doing it, based on why they would do it if they did, or whatever means they can behave abusively towards me.

People who withhold information and then whinge that I haven’t acted on it.

People who behave like teenage-toddlers.

People who are so vile, they make me feel like I'm near rotting meat. It’s like a hard aversion response.

People who think I am trying to show off, or am sick, because I’d rather take a beating for doing the right thing than do wrong to avoid one. It might just be that I don’t want to be like the scum that is abusive towards me.

People who are all about how ‘It’s not about wrong or right, it’s about what people can get away with’.

People who 'prat at me' or 'twat' at me ( Ie, do themselves to me crudely whether I like it or not . This is rather disturbing, though not quite as disturbing as 'getting twatted at' (n slimy grooming ). When a prat gets annoyed at talks at me, it almost chomps and headbutts at me while it does so, while twats worm ..

People who are Talkohollics, and who force their talkohol and talkohollism on me by default. Here, I mean mindless yaking, yammering, yelling, verbalizing, etc, where it is less a case of the person actively talking for any actual reason, and more a case of them passively failing to prevent talk coming from them.

People who 'Blurp', blurping is a make style of speech that has gone on too long and the producer of isn't paying any attention to themselves, nor is anyone else. Bumping their gums, blathering, prattling, yammering, blabbing .. ( Insert Bauhaus, Small Talk Stinks and add in a female who, when trying to get her way talk like a car or burglar alarm )

People who rely on 'because I say so'.

People who confuse a strong will with a mere arrogant ego.

People who think that being too stupid to understand an argument against their pet preference means it isn't relevant or doesn't exist.

People who expect me to not give a toss because they don't give a toss and to toss them off if they do give a toss, but who don't give the remotest toss about what I do or don't give a toss about in return. I just need the tossers to toss off ( themselves ).

People who behave like 'where they are not wanted' seeking missiles. And once there, begin to resemble epoxy resin.

‘Foot in the door folk’, who just need a bit of something, then more, and more, then all, then something else and more and more and so on.

People who think it is okay to do away with someone’s sanity, for any reason whatsoever.

People who expect a place in the life of someone they won’t treat humanely.

People who use, or accept they typical domineering abusers excuse of ‘I lost it, I’m weak, I need you, please help me’ despite also demanding to be the authority, to have all the control. I call all domineering people man-doms, as they all behave like teenage toddlers pretending to be ‘old and wise’.

People who don’t care about the fact there is a huge difference between being mentally ill, and insane.

People who try to bar reality from existence and who are allergic to sanity.

People who claim that no matter how petty, inane, and meaningless what they want is, it is more important than someone else’s basic necessities, no matter how plain, modest, objective and sensible they are.

People who expect me to be nice to the nasty, and gawp stupidly, or aggressively, if I’m not.

People who have an issue with something I’m doing, but who don’t even tell me there is an issue, and then go off to gossip about it.

People who use the phrase ‘I care’ and ‘am concerned about your welfare’ to interfere detrimentally.

And ..

People who breathe.

People who eat

People who drink.

People who exist .. In any way, shape or form, or who aren’t yet dead. Some people I hate even though they are dead.

But I do like ‘petted-lump-but-with-spine’ well treated ginnypigs ( even if I had somewhere to live, I’d not be able to have one of my own, as affection messes my brain up ), and other non-people things.

Therefore I live in a woodland, where there are no people doing themselves loudly, or to me, rudely, and I can sit, empty and lame, watching shadows in the sun, a place and state, even if I’m just observing bugs in the rain, where there is more to my existence than hate. For Instance ..

On making happy things with Sticks and Strings :

I am far from idle in the wood land – I wrote this there is an attempt to fix a problem with the old CNS. Once done, I was going to drop the subject, but I thought it was a good example of how, though I have little as far as a typical ego would be concerned, I am far from impoverished will and stimulation-wise.

I mainly use pre dead but decent sticks and sapling trunks ( poles ) and bots of tree ( logs ). The only new, or green wood that I use ( when it is needed ) is from soon-doomed saplings ( there are hundreds and hundreds around ) for example, due to inadequate rootspace, insufficient light, fungal infection ( there is an odd black ball, with under bark tendril, rings in the cross section type here, and they can fell huge trees ( there is a huge one that lies as a horizontal bar along a very steep slope, how I don’t know, and the whole thing is covered ) as well as doom the smaller ones ) and ones that are crushed by another falling tree. ( This happens a lot in such woodlands, which is why the terrain is so annoying, they criss cross, pile up, a strait path is not possible ). It is sad to see a great, and I mean great, oak that has fallen ( these die of old age I think ), the branches broken up, scattered yet still almost in shape, and yet it is fascinating and natural to explore. Many have ferns growing from the branches, soil and moss in dips and gaps, lichen, fungus, old oaks are incredible .. ) I do not harm any that have even a remote chance.

It is a mixed wood, and I live amongst some yews ( upon poison, under poison, surrounded by poison ). Yews are grown as ornamentals, and when tended to in the correct way, they are lovely to behold. Alas, left to their own devices, they are the roughest, scruffiest, yet toughest trees I know of – If they fall and some roots remain ( common on slopes ) a whole row of new little yews grow along the trunk. Branche3s can remain alive even when most of the massive trunk is hollow. I live near a dodgy one ( they are everywhere ) and find it amusing because ( Cue The Cure’s ‘Close To Me’ ) ‘’I have PTSD and I live by this tree’’ ( insert image of risky yew ).

So, I end up working with a lot of dead wood, which means that the typical woodland construction of sturdy, solid things is not as easy as it seems. As the wood is not seasoned, notches and holes are not an option, as they’d split the sticks, so they have to be used as they are, width-wise. Making a simple structure ( eg, to hold up polythene, hang things and lean against ) that is restressful and neat is a right faff, and often, a counter-intuitive one at that. Get it right, though, and the result is lovely to behold in that it is strong, sturdy, safe and trustworthy.

I use natural jute string ( or turn it into custom-width rope ) so anything I make is easy to dismantle, and would rot away anyway – Keeping track of non-organic materials is hassle I could do without, and I don’t want to harm the woodland ( which, by the way, is at least one third dead wood, much of it still attached to trees, and the yew that has dropped is particularly dangerous as it is hard and often sharp and I worry I may fall and impale myself.

Alas, after much mucking about, I have got better at it. I’m now contemplating a non-tree-harming platform, ( already got a ladder on my list ) and perhaps a shelter for the winter ( I’m as tough as old boots, I just need to be somewhere that isn’t prattle-addled and life is worthwhile )

It takes patience, and a degree of sensitivity to the materials I am working with, which must be put together logically, and correctly. The sticks must be correctly positioned ( knots ( stumps where twigs or branches were ) help wood-wise ( the cord holds itself ) as they stop things slipping, though I still need to use a scrap of temporary ‘stay in place string’ to hold things together until I can set them just right, and often, knots are not quite in the position I want them in, and I have to mess around to get them in place. The string must be laid in a plain way so it will pull tight, right ( leave slack within and it’ll loosen, try to do it too tight and it won’t settle right ). The string must then be settled ( a bit of a wiggle, or a little time will do, before being pulled taught without brute force. A firm hand will suffice – Too little of a tug, and it’ll work loose, too much, it’ll snap or snap the stick itself. Firm and snug is the way to go. ( For other tasks where some controlled movement is needed and it’s all about relaxation, angles, etc, the same rules, but different styles apply. A figure of eight is good for movement, an hourglass clinch, unless done ‘narrow and long’ is best for firmer applications, be the sticks parallel or crossed

( Intermission -  I’ve just noticed that my flatform is the biggest nigh-dry mud pie I have ever made )

If I do go for any more elaborate projects, I may have to use non organic materials. Cotton rope eventually rots, and can be stained with mud, or simple be black, but it absorbs moisture and frays, and other organic substances all have some flaw or other, but if I do, I will keep a list of what I use and where. I don’t prefer artificial stuff, but wide zip ties are good, one looped through the other, especially if a reliable degree of motion is required, but they do have to be used on good sticks, and be looked at often ‘lest they do damage and cause weakness. I am also fond of herringbone webbing, black, usually nylon, 4cm.as it is soft, strong and can be long ( I feel like I am tenderly describing looroll here ). It is useful flat and new, as well as folded along its length and old. Metal and wire has potential, but may be harder to deal with up the wood.

Anyway, once done on a given project, I can’t help but feel a degree of affection for the things I make. I don’t mean to be arrogant, but I do make an effort. Maybe it’s a mirror neuron thing, I can’t stand being around things that are not, ultimately, in an okay ( give or take a little relativity ) state and if they are not, I set about making a fuss and sorting them / the situation out. I do have a fairly intent will, but I am not one of those people who persist pointlessly. If something really isn’t possible, or at least, isn’t by me, then I look elsewhere, for other ways.

Now,

About using very big bits of really dead tree to make slope-levelling ‘campscape’ areas ( it’ll fade into the soil soon enough .. ) This is a process that also involves mud. Soil is a wonderful substance and many things can be done with it in the wood .. ( Fade Out )

Bye.

Regards, The name on the lemon.



Edited by PotpourriTSD - 07/30/2016 at 12:38
It's and SOS, sent out odoriferously, from a bowl of dead bits of plant, often resurrected chemically, we need restoration now, of our air quality ..
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote XKWQWKX Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 07/30/2016 at 14:01
I'm sorry, could you elaborate please?
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Wow. Just wow.
I was about to block this account for spamming.... but then I noticed several references to Bad Religion. Close one.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote ivanhopl Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 07/30/2016 at 15:15
Too long. You get A -. Are you happy?
  
I'm not really here
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Can recard or context sum this post up for me?
THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY
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This site will be referenced when his newsworthy event takes place
THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY THIS IS NOT REALITY
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Greg Giraffin Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 07/30/2016 at 21:36
^

I'm sure in some language this counts as a manifesto
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote BFY Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 07/31/2016 at 15:53
Originally posted by SOLDSHORT SOLDSHORT wrote:

Can recard or context sum this post up for me?
Boorks might eventyally sum the post up for you, or not.
did greasy fingers grasp for pieces of your mind?
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote CONTEXT Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 08/01/2016 at 00:46
Originally posted by SOLDSHORT SOLDSHORT wrote:

Can recard or context sum this post up for me?

Don't ask me bro, I was about to ask if there was an audio book version of this post.
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Dude this is not a training field for school writings. It's the other way around, hey don't you know ?

Watcho now.

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That was lovely.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote PotpourriTSD Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 09/12/2016 at 22:52
I now regret not numbering paragraphs and sections, much like in the bible. As for the elusive 'summary' :

''In the end, you may find, there's no guiding pile 'o shite ..

I can't summarize that post, it is already a summary. It is not exactly an imbroglio of abstracts, though. I tried to keep it short, to the point, and in some sort of order, but what was meant to be a plain-for-me 'plod-through' turned into a pack of porcupines and began to ramble around almost randomly.

This is normal for my neurons, do excuse them. The worst part of it is when different aspects of a text bump into one another and start breeding more information. This often goes exponential and the result ends up resembling a slightly disgruntled, distinctly over fertilized bramble bush. Pruning this kind of mental mess is never easy, takes ages, and I'm crap at link-gist-ic topiary and so I left it be.

I do know that it is ever so important to fit the mouldy old mold here and there and so I will try for more band references in future ( if there is one ) as otherwise ( oh the woe ) I might get 'banned'.

I'm busy at the moment, but I have, while in the wood, and for assorted purposes, generated ( oh, there's a reference, not that it is hard bearing in mind how many words they have going on ) over twenty bits of A4 - The majority of which, you will apparently be glad to hear, will not end up here.

Question - Is the following classed as spam here, in the board compost-bin ?

( Cranks voice up to the proper octave, and goes into dolly-mode as this only works if it sounds as if she is singing it .. )

'Grindcore's like a butterfly, as soft and gentle as a sigh, the monotonal blast beats of love are like its satin wings. Grindcore makes your heart feel strange inside, the blast flutters like, soft wings in flight, grindcore's like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing.

I hear it from my CD, It happens with Amoebic Dysentery, that rare and gentle feeling, that I feel inside. Its sound is soft and gentle, its lyrics warm and tender, whenever I listen to Excrementory Grindfuckers, I think of butterflies ..

Grindcore's like a butterfly, as soft and gentle as a sigh, the monotonal blast beats of love are like its satin wings. Grindcore makes your heart feel strange inside, the blast flutters like, soft wings in flight, grindcore's like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing.

Your blast beats bring me sunshine, every grind is spring time, and I am only happy, when you are by my psy. How precious is this grind we share, how very precious, sweet and rare, together grind and core belong like, daffodils and butterflies ..

Regards,

'For whom the shit rolls ..'

( Intermission )

( Edited on the 21st of October, to add .. )

( Ps .. )

‘’It took a second to register, up in my brainium, my dome, head, my skull, my cranium’’ .. There is a better way to phrase the issue :

‘’All that is, was, and will be. Universe much too big to see. Time and space, never ending. Disturbing thoughts ( Reaching out for something you’ve got to feel, while clutching at what you had thought was real / To secure peace is to prepare for war .. ), questions pending ( Who are you ? Where ya been ? Where ya from ? ) .. Limitations of human understanding ( Excommunicated from the brotherhood of man to wander lonely as a puzzled anagram ) ..

But it comes to be, that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel - Is just a freight train coming your way.’’

Regards,

Huhghhuhhhghaahhhhhhhhhmmmmaaaaghaaaah.Yeah !

( Edited on the 15th November, to add .. )

''Do what you want, but don't do it around me'' .. I failed to properly explain an entry in my hate list and have found a better way of doing it anyway. So.

I Hate :

People who expect me to put up the in-countenance equivalent of dog turd in a kids play park when they can't get their way. At first they try the supposedly amiable, confused, baffled 'why can’t I get my way with you' attitude, in the hope that you will help them by giving them their way as they cannot comprehend not getting it and they fumble around trying to get somewhere they 'wanna be' with it. When the 'soppy' manipulative weasel-worming fails, they get excrementally-exasperated - They sigh, they huff, puff, they strop and fume, they gasp and gawp, astounded that I won't set my sanity, human rights etc aside for their convenience, tolerate them in my way, go out of my way, let them make me lose my way, and be nice to the nasty. The eyes drift dumbly, but also, paradoxically, poke, prod, stab and scowl while at it. The mouth is open in a gormless, shocked, astonished 'offended and insulted' kind of way or it is otherwise sneering as if utterly disgusted. Overall the face is that of a person who feels violated if the intended victim won't let them violate them ( Eye Of The Beholder ). It's as if they think I should find them and approve of them and what they do, no matter how obnoxious their behaviour is, and that I've somehow wronged them by 'making' them find me in order to hang around, all sour and sulky, disapproving of what I am and what I do because I won't surrender objective basic necessities for their idle, unhealthy luxuries. This is also a trigger for me, as it was a common pratwatzi behaviour ( the repulsively rude, greedy, frumpy seeyouehntee accent-slag, in particular ) when they couldn't get their way and ridiculous, hideous it it is in fact a demented form of covert tantrum. Anyway .. No matter how much stress it causes, not matter how clear I make it for simple, selfish them, they don't care, and yet, due to them being devoid of insight and perspective, they expect me to do so. They also seem to think their behaviour should impress .. It doesn't. They are the kind of people who, if they can't make the grade, try to downgrade or degrade, the standard, or original, so they can enjoy feeling ‘up to it’, despite not having what it takes to do it for themselves and each other and I detest petty, inane , insane and awful they absolutely.

Hence the reference, as it makes me think .. 'Do what you want, but don't do it around me’ .. In fact, do do it anywhere to anybody, you rude, nasty, ugly, grotty, abusive, greedy, lazy, parasitic, cowardly ( they always gang up in grim, grabby groups, though there's no meaningful difference between the narrow, dreary-minded units of 'the pack' ), self-control'less domineering weirdoes. Get your own life. Grow up and wean off the manky milk of trying to exploit others ( who owe you nothing ) in horrible and obnoxious ways. Go to rehab, get clean of your narcissistic, perverse addiction/s ..' Etc.

That is one of the major reasons I spend so much time .. Singing in the woodland .. Where - I have made a discovery !

Over a year of doing Val Doonican ( during which 'Song Sung Blue' has turned into 'Doin' A Poo ( Deep Inside The Woodland )', 'It's Impossible' has turned into 'You're An Asshole'. 'Yesterday' is occasionally about Piles and 'What Would I Be' is awaiting conversion into a song about sheds ) ..

Plus, I think it was about six weeks ( I've wanted this style for over a decade, but didn't want to risk the rest of my range ( See Eg ) but this is no longer a problem ) of doing Metallica ..

Resulted in.. Instantaneous Isaac Hayes.

This was odd. I never thought I'd manage that one, let alone without months of practice and even weirder, I can even do it okay with strained vocal cords ( they thrive on this ), neural fatigue ( synaptic plasticity ), neuromuscular junction exhaustion etc, unlike any other vocal style I know of.

( Eg, my 'Obstacle-Assault-Course' practice disk : Val - 'Ring of Bright Water', 'King of the Road'. Dolly - 'Love Is ( Grindcore's ) Like a Butterfly'. Pras et al - 'Ghetto Superstar' ( I've learned this 'as is' to get the timbre right for 'Grindcore Superstar', though the other day I did a 'Meta' run, Justice style for one male, Black Album for the other but come the chorus, my voice retained the 'llica timbre settings despite changing octave gear for the Mya part and the result was .. Kill 'em All ! ). The Smiths - 'Cemetery Gates'. Fugees - 'Killing Me Softly ( .. With Grindcore )'. Crash Test Dummies - 'Mmm Mmm' ( Once, there was a man, that, tried to sing much deeper than his voice nat-ru-ally could. And heee en-ded, up, sound. Ing. Amaz-in-g-a-ly-const-i. Pated.. He sounded like he needed a really potent laxaaaaaatiiiive - Hmmmuaghhhhh Hmmmuaghhhhh.Yeah ! ). Cardigans - 'Love Fool' ( ''I don't care about anything but grindcore'' ). The Proclaimers - '500 Miles' ( Along with 'Don't Tread On Me', one of the funniest songs to headbang to ). Cave and Kylie - 'Where The Wild Roses Grow'. Culture Club - Karma Chameleon ( 'Tallica works well here ). Alkaline Trio - 'Blue In The Face'. Cure - 'Close To Me'. Smiths 'Frankly Mr Shankly'. Eurhythmics - 'Sweet Dreams'. Alkaline Trio - 'Private Eye'. Bowie - 'Ashes To Ashes'. Eurhthymics - 'Here Comes The Rain Again'. Billy Idol - 'Dancing With Myself'. Aled Jones - 'Walking In The Air'. ) ( This takes a fair bit of doing as I like to get it unnervingly and disturbingly spot on, although I do also mix it up, and do songs in other octaves, with different timbres. By the time I've done everything, including a Val-Hayes session, rap bits, multiple repeats, re-do's etc and at least six 'clean', four to ten-plus 'rough' 'tallica songs ( I now do my code-ing with it as I find the discharge of neurotransmitters useful.. ), a session is often around five hours long .. )

Regards,

( 'Do excuse me while I go out to the shed ..' )

( Edited on the 6th December 2016, to add .. )

I’ve had a ( None So Vile ) nigh Skyscraper .. Upon return to the wood after my last trip out, I, worryingly, found that my voice had point-blank physically dropped. ( ''I've already heard this song before'', as it were. It's not the first time this has happened, though it is the first time I lost the high instead of the low - Progress ! Anyway, now the whole voice 'box' is lower by default, and the lower bump of it can comfortably sit level with the top of the V at the base of my neck for the deeper regions of my range. ) I couldn’t even reach the top of Val and Hayes at first. I had to very, very carefully recalibrate my entire range, all octaves and timbres, including what I refer to as The Guitar Solo Register, which, annoyingly, took me over a week to do. Alas, despite the close call the whole thing is better now than it was before, and once again I am ‘myna’ usual XB90ish self.

Regards,

‘’Ain’t mine, your kind ..’’


Edited by PotpourriTSD - 12/06/2016 at 09:04
It's and SOS, sent out odoriferously, from a bowl of dead bits of plant, often resurrected chemically, we need restoration now, of our air quality ..
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote PotpourriTSD Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05/24/2018 at 08:40

It's been ages since I did anything in relation to this, for complex reasons, so here goes .. I filmed a really lovely, and very, very fitting caterpillar, to the Tunes, and XB90 leakage of, Scrutiny and Lost Pilgrim, while I was up Shiterrainwood recently ..

Excuse the mumbling, I was at an odd angle when I found the fellow, one example of whom is here ..https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZIiEhqlNW0

I've also done a session of other stuff, indoors .. An Exhausted Arse-About with Avalon by Bad Religion featuring The Knights, Who Say .... Ni !

..https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAApuPBAywU 

I quote :

Disclaimer - Disentangler : I do not mean the song even the smallest iota of a quanta of offence, my brain just gets carried away sometimes and I found it fun .. 

Also Starring .. Lyric mess ups, some Metallica and Hayes type-tones and a mucked up voice ( how frustrating - I couldn't get it up or down and it's infested with white-noise ish mush ) as I'd only just gotten out of Shiterrainwood about six hours before ( Where while sorting my stuff out I knackered my brain by listening to hours of Val Doonican and also moving around to many other splendid things, like 'Heaven - Technical Itch Remix', which thoroughly knackered my brain, though sadly, on that occasion I didn't get as far as Gunga by the exquisite Need For Mirrors ) and had already been singing for over two by this point .. All this the night after I had to use Metallica to sort out a severely ceased up voice. I've only added this, well mainly only added this file, as the initial recording run of an idea is more interesting than subsequent sessions, perhaps. Note : I used to play Warhammer 40,000 with me bro, amongst others, and I'd like to do so again, but for now I am without. I've never actually played plain Warhammer and to be honest, I don't want to and I don't think I ever will ..

Ps,

I will check back, but I'm often all over the place including up the wood ..



Edited by PotpourriTSD - 05/24/2018 at 08:45
It's and SOS, sent out odoriferously, from a bowl of dead bits of plant, often resurrected chemically, we need restoration now, of our air quality ..
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