Monday, 16 November 2015

I've Never Been To Me

You may be aware that Old Knudsen .... how can I put this? Ach I'll just use the medical term me doctor used, 'isn't playing with a full deck' me issues go deep from never being hugged as a child to me Ma screaming, "get this demon Hell spawn out of me" while I was still in the womb.

Then there are the constant set backs in life, the constant rejection from hoors who will obviously pay. Being told you can't do something merely because you never attended medical school and the never ending judgement from others.

I hope that some police officers are reading this blog (I know some MI5 and CIA operatives are) because you really need to change yer harmful attitudes. How would you like it if I followed you about or drove about watching you then saying, "oh you can't do a gravy protest in Tesco" or "you can't chop up a hoor, put her in a suitcase and throw it into the river cos you'll harm the fish" well you do damage to people's self esteem. Being told you can't do this or that all the time really knocks you back so peelers, stop being so judgmental all the time.
As for judges, who are you to judge?        

A few years back I went in search of peace and enlightenment. My PTSD was giving me flashbacks from the time I watched Black Hawk Doon on a big screen TV and it was effecting my life, I was feeling depressed and hopeless, even meth and hate crimes held no interest for me. I had to change my thinking and rediscover my self worth and to figure out what was important to me.

I walked thousands of miles through the wilderness to the highest peaks where I meditated. I lived with bears I spoke to migrating Monarch butterflies, I ate only what mother nature provided like berries and road kill.

I sat under the best trees and contemplated shit and I looked into my soul and turned it inside out recreating myself in tune with the tides and the seasons, each falling leaf mirroring the stripping away of the infection that society had given me with its rules and restrictions.    

I went to Burning Man and dropped some acid and in that week long trip I found myself and found I was god, I was a force of nature I not an island ... no man is an island, I was a fucking continent. I was also a purple unicorn named Bob who tried to get people to touch his horn but that story is for another day.

Old Knudsen was at peace, he had found himself and for once it was a prison of the mind, not of the body. He was full of a joy and contentment he had never known, he appreciated everything and saw the beauty in the little things, he greeted each new day with a smile as he sat on the crapper for his morning glory, grateful that he had sphincter that still mostly worked and had toilet paper to wipe away the shite and blood for children in Africa didn't have any ... they have to use large flies.

When a woman refused Old Knudsen's invitation for a 2 minute sex fest over a wheelie bin and called him disgusting he would smile and say, "well that is like yer opinion" but seriously, you can't tell leezers from straight weemen these days, it's very confusing. 

When the police beat him for looking into bedroom windows he took it well because they were just doing their job.

The sun shone in Old Knudsen's heart and he was comfortable with who he was. 

 An artist's imagining of a Knudsen family dinner.

Then he sat down for a family dinner. Five minutes in and already he'd been asked if he had put on weight or was ill and remember all those embarrassing things you did when he was young? ..... well family never forget and can somehow manage to fit it into a conversation and to make it apply today as if you still did the things you did when you were 8.

You can't control what people think about you, they will always have opinions tainted by their own issues that they don't deal with so they inflict them upon others with their world view and how they talk to you by belittling or ridiculing so fuck em, get them out of your life.   

You can never achieve peace and enlightenment if surrounded by arseholes which is why wise men always fuck off up a mountain.

The moral of the story is, people are cunts.

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