This human interference is getting annoying…
said my cat to me after I had, yet again, foiled its plans, snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.
It had a shrew in its maw but it wasn’t trying to tame it. It had caught by the rules of the natural jungle… humans don’t respect that kind of thing, particularly when their own natural jungle impulses have been thwarted by civilisation.
There really is very little civility in civilisation, but that doesn’t stop civillians from thinking they are civilised… especially in uncivilised comparison to other civil folk or folk they consider from their civilised high horse to be uncivilised compared to them.
Bloody humans and their unnatural faux-natural inability to accept the unacceptable laws of the natural world.
I kind of agree with my cat.
I even agree with that red ant who bit me just because as I was walking in the grass it ended up on my toe. The pain it caused made me want to kill it and kill it again. Formic acid in the veins, weeks of burning agony. Something so tiny becomes huge. I didn’t kill it.
Last week I stood inadvertently on a red ants’ nest, they were all over my feet and legs, not one bit me. This one must have had its reasons. Perhaps it’s just the weather.
It’s hot and sunny… in the UK this can create a sort of drunken frenzy in the nature of beasts both human and otherwise.
But humans don’t need heat and sun to get crazy.
We don’t need a full moon to howl and rip others to shreds.
We don’t need addictions either to make us that way – addictions can be a sign that we’re trying to escape from being that way.
Who will judge the judge?
The other day I saw a prompt urging us to write a letter to our mom, to tell her something we’ve always wanted to tell her but couldn’t.
Why couldn’t we tell her…
Over a decade ago I came across a stranger who told me why… I already knew why, but wasn’t used to strangers understanding such things…
Sometimes people don’t listen because they only hear what they want to hear – say anything to them other than what they want you to say, say what you want to say, what you want to be heard… and they just don’t and can’t hear it. You never said it even when you said it.
This stranger was a volunteer for The Samaritans. My mother had contacted their organisation (to waste their time and resources to bring about a dramatic victory in her insane war of her versus the world) to get at me, as I had cut off contact with her after she called me ‘evil’ for not giving her money (I didn’t have because I had already given her everything of mine… she wanted what wasn’t mine to give) which she wanted to give to a con artist who promised her riches beyond belief…
when things are too good to be true… guess what…
mind you, this sounds too crazy to be true… I wish it wasn’t true and that I was making this shit up because I’m crazy. I am crazy… but there’s a reason for that.
That’s just one tiny incident in a long line of nonsense… many tiny red ant bites… for no logical natural reason.
It’s easy to forgive a red ant for biting you… forgiving a human for the same thing is giving them the A-okay to do it again and again. I’ve done the forgive and forget thing…
Do you know how much of my life’s blood and time I’ve given to spinning her bad into good… you’re a good mother, you’re the greatest mother ever, I’m lucky to have you, I’m the luckiest child in the world to have such a wonderful mother who sacrifices so much for me, I can never be grateful enough, pay you back, Mommie Dearest… I would make a great spin doctor for a tyrannical despot, if I cared to be such a thing… again.
But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of my spin… I always get sicker by making the sick seem well and the well seem sick.
I always saw myself as being sick… I could never spin that, could never spin things for myself in the way I can spin it for others. A weakness due to awareness… perhaps.
For those who find it shocking… that a child might not honour their parents, no matter what the parent does… congratulations… on being blessed with a parent who didn’t make you wish they’d some to a grisly end… and for not having the kind of experience, experience upon experience, compounding it, which pushes you to wish such a thing in spite of all your attempts to avoid ever going there. I don’t like myself for wishing that, and I haven’t wished it as much as I perhaps should… you won’t get that, but that’s fortunate…
But at what point are we allowed to cease to be delusional?
Malashasta Makitellofaffa… sounds like nonsense, doesn’t it?
It’s actually my hooked on phonics version of an Italian saying of sorts – Ma lascia stare, ma chi te lo fa fare – which means – Let it go, who is making you do it.
I’d love to let it go… have tried to let it go… but sometimes it won’t let go of you when you let go of it.
And my mother never lets anything or anyone go until it and they are as perfect as she wants it and them to be for her… and for her things and people are forever disappointing her impossible expectations.
So… she never lets it, you, go… and neither can you ever be allowed to let it go… let go of her, and her problems and the drama which she can create out of nothing, causing so many problems which really don’t need to happen… which can’t be let go because they go on forever.
How long do I have to wait to get a victory?
I’m not after a dramatic grand slam… I know that’s fantasy.
Sure, I’d love to have that kind of fantasy come true, but… I actually prefer victories when everyone gets something out of it, even people who really… don’t deserve it because they won’t let anyone else get anything ever, they want it all and more.
My mother is like that… she hates it when anyone else gets anything, she wants it all, and she’s not happy when others get things… even if she got everything, got it all (which she has had… and she ruined it for herself by wanting more because having it all wasn’t enough) and everyone else got nothing, she’d still be unhappy… it’s never perfect enough for her.
If you still don’t get it, still find what I’m saying is… wrong… congratulations… on never having this type of experience of a parent, of being a child of that parent (who is never allowed to grow up, who is just a thing, a means to an end of something which can never end), and on being completely unable to empathise.
It’s okay… as long as you mind your own business and don’t interfere in mine.
I’ve had enough of human interference…
enough to know how much it pisses my cat off when I do it…
we can learn but… not learn.
it should be noted that the character who said this didn’t exactly embody his quote, he just thought he did.
*Italian quotes and music are from the TV series Gomorra – which I am currently watching. My father grew up in that kind of environment. My mother didn’t. Neither did I… but…
“Listen friend this I’m telling you
cannot be found in the story books and these paths,
stories and promises, that leave and that remain stories
and through which you look inside life through a window,
listen friend, listen friend”