19 May 2022

Electra’s dictionary; a voice to be heard; Beth pwy yw beth a phryd

 



Electra, 


this morning’s dreams mix with real everyday incidents. So, I relive the scene later when 

Sunny calls out in alarm—in painful, physical urgency and then I recall —oh, I knew this would happen; we know how it goes 

later ….

—here I stop to reflect upon how strange some things shift and alters things —of people and—of the importance of some things…. such things like a nearby neighbor who is moving away, so suddenly my presence to Sunny here becomes more required ….and think about how that fits in with what Stina is asking me to do…. I mean, if what she said is true —it makes me wonder how it is that he suddenly appeared on that road to rescue me from the last stalker I just had to escape from 

But…. my brain gets so muddled over this double double triple agent spy stuff, so  instead, my thoughts choose to turn to write instead about my  ‘Persephone’…. and how that heavy weight which had pressed so hard upon my heart that I could not ever inhale all the way ….the adjustment to lightness with full lungs now alters my perceptive view through the kaleidoscope that I see looking at me in the mirror 

And even Bran ….he calls me again today ….he says he doesn’t like,

“that nobody cares if you’re alive? Really Beth?”

“Well…. I’m working for Sunny, he’d start to wonder if he didn’t see me for a few days….”

“Honestly Beth….” he stops to edit his thoughts; I hear his mind shifting the course, “I was surprised about—your ‘Persephone’” Bran says 

“Oh….”

“I remember how close you were so….but you are talking again?”

“It’s ….been a long several years,” I say and sit down, as I have been pacing 

“So, how is that going?” he asks

“You know…. if someone wanted to see in actual life ~inheritance over environment~ study —she and I are living proof that—as much as they tried to turn her into one of them and not be like her mother….it failed. Even her sexual identity label is like her mom’s but her generation are comfortably out.”

“Hmm, I never doubted your attraction to me, Beth—did you?”Bran asks me

“To you? Of course not, but you are the exception —you’re deep —and sensitive—and….you’re —nurturing….”

“I’m nurturing? I don’t think Clare would agree,” he says and then he says, “well….you always brought that out in me, you have that way—it makes men want to protect you—“

“Protect me-!?”

“—take care of you,” he amends

“What!?—why? I don’t need that from anyone!” I feel defensive, “I can take care of myself!”

And at this moment I get a text from Stina:


<have you called Dr. Evans office yet?>


I ignore her message and walk to the window to watch a herd of deer playing in the near field. Two with massive antlers stop to look directly at me from the field as I listen to …..Bran’s lilting voice that ….throws its sheepish warm coat from across the sea…. and for a split moment in time ….I am perched in an alternate time ~Beth pwy yw beth a phryd~

“Well….” he concedes but he says, “to your credit, I don’t blame you for all that armor you wear—I think if anyone deserved to hate men for everything that happened to you, I wouldn’t have blamed you for completely turning off men. I really couldn’t blame you, I would have had I been you,” he says

“Yes—well—but the alternative wasn’t much better so—there is a fine line within that gauge of yin-yang on the dial between male and female ….and I gave up fine tuning my definition and —realize ….it’s more to my liking avoiding most humans altogether —unless they prove they have something worth my time to interact with —on any level.”

“And where do I fit in?” he asks 

“….you never had to doubt….but there is only one of you, isn’t there? And ….you disappeared. And…. you’re an artist so…. that is under the umbrella of my orientation—oh! Bran, I have to go—” I say when from downstairs I hear my name being called

“Beth—don’t hang up—wait, ….can I call you again?”

I hesitate

He says,

“I can’t not have you in my life….it’s so good to hear your voice.”


18 May 2022

identity and sex e.d.

 

I don’t understand why I should feel like this…. everything is falling down like cards; false faces everywhere ….they turn pixel on me…. all of them

I wonder if my blood is real ….is there any left and what does it really say about who I am ….

then the terror or post apocalyptic life isn’t fertile ground to grow and 

I am in the mist of this sense of being desperately deplete and grip for distraction taping into my saved google notes which labels me

“demisexual”

it is a term …. as though it is a neurosis horrifies me and then

“demiromantic” hitched on ….

my sexual identity confusion is, I never could relate to other women. I never could follow their conversation. I never felt like one of them. They talk about such shallow things all day, it puts my brain to putty to be around them.

It is more complicated but this begins some of my struggle to find who I am because if I can’t relate to my own gender then how can I be one of them?

I find males attractive but only if they do not look anything like the men who warped me and are not too masculine and have a sensitivity or femininity but they cannot be women either because of what my sister did to me—I can never be sexually attracted to a woman …. but they are always attracted to me because they say I am the boyfriend they always wanted — they are disgusting 

I am feminine, yes—but with a masculine mind; but only intellectually, not as far as progenitive; I’d never want their anatomy but I like to borrow it when I’m in the mood and ….if they actually really connect to me, otherwise I am too bored to care. I find these men who have stalked me are vile animals. I am tits and cunt to them but I don’t see this when I look at myself ….yet when I have sex it is clearly the other who is the man and I am glad of my gender at that moment ….but I am not a pussy; I am not a cunt; I will not be reduced to this if you get me in bed and many have tried but not one fit me right because they never measured up

I don’t need a man to tell me I’m this or that but I would love one who could know how to be my friend and my lover at the same time 

 vampyren som guide genom helvetet;  Jag är glad att du fortfarande är där.  du ser mig åtminstone📌

17 May 2022





 This spot reminds me of Hylas and the Nymphs by Waterhouse every day I walk by it

Electra’s dictionary, noir/I am me I am mine prt3;what I believe in

More thoughts of the legend 

I talk about Truth quite a lot on here. I reflect upon it. But truth is subjective to the consciousness it occupies 

so how is it possible to rise above subjectivity?

It is not possible 

so I can only reflect. Observe —do my Scientific Method and log it in my fleeting writing, sometimes in a blog; observations from my lens and see how my warped vision alters it

I don’t claim to be omniscient and proclaim a Truth

I just try to ….humanize it

I —think— emotions. 

Intellectualize it. Likely I am a form of autism as dyslexics are connected so, while I am a sensitive empath and psychically connected to visions that come to me, I recognize that my truth is a truth but it is not the utter truth 

but that is not our role

that is what I believe —our truths matter as much as the utter truth does but the two should never be confused or claim one ultimate victory 

I think my mission here was to learn how to feel. It seems I split off as a child, that’s how the text books would label it 

but that was my lesson ….that was chosen for this life’s journey. To catalogue emotions; to study emotions. To step inside them; immerse…. take it on at full force…. and to turn it into a universal image; Art in order to call minds to a higher consciousness 

To call to minds 

   in order to ignite a butterfly effect 

so where does ego come in? I think that is the Very riddle locked up in the celves/Celf

Those cells inside; those rooms 

so within this vast pool of knowledge I’ve acquired of human emotions ….trauma; fear; every form of heartbreak and loss; shame; humiliation; torture; pain; terror….terror…destitute….a  fleeting glimpse at ego; idolization; everybody’s unicorn; mistaken identity; infatuation; lust; confusion of sexual identity; gender…. 

but ….no joy

that part I missed somehow and ….I think it must be my cross to bear

the gods were jealous of me ….or who knows, I am Aphrodite; not Electra and this journey is ….designed to ….fail unless ….I find that one possibility that purity does exist in humankind ….that pure of heart

so far…. no joy, and I was their champion 

whom they destroyed

we all have a mission; we use me as the apparatus so there I am:

I think of Dante’s tree….I am caught around the trunk and limbs with barbed wire; how does a tough outer shell protect the ‘fragile eggshell mind’* within the broken soul? how does she avoid those that promise but ….then only to find that all they ever wanted was base possession and are not deep enough for more and this is the flaw in my mission; I believed. Is it a want or a need? When does the want become the need? when does the need become wont. 

Someone once told me I should have been catholic because she thought I was the most devout person she knew—she being catholic. She said it maliciously and I think about that label of stoic but no…. they are wrong …. And that is the sad riddle of the celves ….and there seems no legend can find it on the map 




*******



I find the sudden desperate need to —what?

find that desperate faith somewhere in someone —perhaps and, reach with one moment of hesitation and give up to this human weakness when ….I see Bran’s call up on my phone screen. That barbed wire, they never let me go….

“Cloak and dagger, espionage—how did you get caught up in all of this?” Bran who is almost actually scolding when I answer

“You don’t remember? It was always in the background of my life—the assault, and who was behind that? Hired hit man —the years under that man’s thumb who controlled all our lives ….”

“Your father.”

“He was not my father.”

“You got your dna test results ….I read that in your…. so, the sins of the fathers…. born is Electra …. morning becomes her…. but you are my Beth….”

“Bran….” to my ears I hear warning and defense ….but also longing ….and the memory of seaweed arms….and harden myself against this; I know how to pull the portcullis better than anyone; I am me, I am mine, and nothing comes in, nobody trespasses ….that is the code 

so

“And the killer is still out there? The one who assaulted you at Bard and left you with a life sentence of degenerative pain….”

“Uhh—I….don’t know, they don’t tell me, but he’s some known terrorist they seem to be in a cat and mouse game with —all these years….he walks free….”

“How are you?” he asks

I hear concern in his voice; I don’t believe what I hear; never again and choose not to hear what he asks

“I’m so sick of ….controllers—men…. I’m sorry you don’t want to hear this….”

“It’s —fine, I deserve to hear this,” he says

“You mean because you recognize this in yourself? —do…. I think they just look at me and they see ‘target’ ….sitting doe sitting duck….and they build their deceptions carefully hiding their own interests and watch the exit door is in view—“

“Christ, Beth—what have you been through….”he says with regret and ….I almost go back to ‘our’ place in my mind ….it’s there watching me from the box I hid it in

But I babble on ignoring this and so glad of an excuse to ….have someone just listen—he was always my best listener…. “so they know how to back out—they watch thst exit and then tell you how to be. how to feel. perform, and stop trying to see. you. But what about the needs of myself —no, there is no self, we know…..I mean, don’t you dare make a suggestion, a request —a desire…. why should you want or need or ask…. just sit there and be quiet….how dare I think I have any rights at all.”

“Your Viking?”

“I don’t want to talk about it….” I say, “he is just one of dozens, I mean, don’t you remember? Or no, people choose how to recall details and they edit out their own guilt.”

“I’m sorry Beth….” he says suddenly 

And I stop babbling madly 

He says it again 

“You should know…. they didn’t win over you….I’m so sorry Beth….”


*JDMorrison