Friday, 12 March 2010

To Chrystal, with Love; the Woman who Gave me Back my Faith

You say it is six months since we first spoke.

Wow. I'll admit, I did think it was less.

Six months IS a long time, but it doesn't feel that way. Now you come to mention it though and I think about what was happening in my life back then, I realise it has actually been a long time.

Six months. A lot has happened in your life and mine since then. And yet you seem to have grown into it, become familiar.

I guess what's really on my mind is trying to find a way to analyse this. Quite where that gets us- I don't know. Let's see, shall we?

I'm trying to go back in my mind and put some of those early events in order. I think it was you first e-mailed me and looking back at mails, I think we were engaged in daily mails by September, so you're right. I think by that time, though we'd not spoken yet, you had already been the subject of certain thoughts of mine that may or not have been of a carnal nature.

You were certainly alluring. Fascinating. Different. So intelligent, so beautiful, so strong and self assured and yet so beautifully fragile and vulnerable.

I admired you, I think. I'm not sure when things moved beyond cyber flirting and we ended up being drawn into eachother.

The discussion on Brutalist architecture certainly excited me. Because I felt you saw things as I did. I think we discussed politics that night, you correctly picked up that my vision of a communist democracy is basically all about a Darwinist system.

Tis true. I believe in any democracy, the fact is, most people aren't arsed. A true democracy will be about who is prepared to put themselves forward. The only point is, which lot do you get making the decisions?

And we're back to Max Weber's categorisations of types of leadership. For society to flourish, we need charismatic leadership. You objected that my Social Darwinist beliefs were disproved by- Higham's success at lieing.

Bluntly you said 'You're the better communicator, he's the better liar'.

I agree with that. But in a truly enlightened democracy, people will understand that the best ideas come from the most outrageous people. So in a true democracy, yes, we CAN have decision making by the blogosphere. It just needs to be properly regulated. Rules of debate imposed and those who break it prosecuted.

We'll get there. :)

Anyway, you and me.

I'm not sure who said the words first. You know, THOSE words. Maybe they just crept in. I think it was more of a process than a moment. Again, it's that perfect balance. I know you don't like it when I compare you to Bunny, but there's a lot about you that's similar. I'm not saying that to compare you, simply to say it's the same qualities I was drawn to her that I am drawn to in you. She was a lot more intellectual and intelligent than I think people realised. And a lot stronger too. Vulnerable, but strong too, if that makes sense.

I think it's that purity. Purity means different things to different people, but to me, you're pure, just as she was. Like Joanna was.

Purity to me is about what's within. Hell, a prostitute can be pure in my book (see Leaving Las Vegas). Pure is what you are. Unspoiled. The beauty you were born with has not been twisted by possessiveness, hate and anger. Even though, perhaps, it would make sense if it HAD been. Life has kicked you over and over. But still you shine through.

I guess what I loved about Bunny- and I guess she'd find it strange for me to say this- is that if I was Pope, I'd beatify Bunny. St Bunny. I would. And I'd beatify you. St Chrystal.

Four good things have happened to me in the last four years. Being 174th UK Political blogger was one. Bunny was the second. Crazy Baby was the third. You were the fourth.

It is your goodness, Chrystal. Your amazing goodness and integrity. It makes me a better person.

I suppose it amounts to this. By early 2007, I did look back on my early years with somewhat of a sense of shame. I felt that in many ways it was a paradox. My life's path had brought me to see truth, but having found that truth, there was little I could do with it.

In my younger days, I had been ambitious, but that ambition had been, as I now knew- to serve evil. To be- a Tory MP. Life had taught me better. I had seen into the abyss, seen the evils of the system first hand. I felt a sense of shame that there really had been a time I had been so ignorant of human suffering as to be prepared to serve such an evil creed, so morally bankrupt as to wave a Union Jack and call for Britain to leave the EU.

Here I was, at twenty nine, knowing at last the difference between Good and Evil, having at last seen the light and yet- all my talent, my intelligence, my charm, all the abilities I had to give to the struggle, the TRUE battle between Good and Evil, they were useless. Useless, because my life had been written off.

There was something in the world to live for more than Cocaine, but for others. Not me. My life was over. For ME, Cocaine highs and alcohol intoxication were all there could ever be. There could be no more. I was the living dead. Nothing I did could ever serve any positive purpose to the species.

I wasn't suicidal, I just- had no particular will to live. It was, as someone said, 'a determination to commit slow suicide by simply not treasuring one's own existence'.

It meant life for me was simply about 'live for the day', but there was no REASON to still be there tomorrow. If you are, you are. If you're not, you're not. So the risks- who cares?

Blogging changed all that for me. This blog- it seemed to hit a nerve. It just ballooned so quick. I couldn't believe it when it made 174th UK political blogger. I think that was late September 2007.

To me, yes, it WAS like winning an Oscar. I know it sounds like nothing, but it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. This blog was the best thing I'd ever done, it was. You should go back and read those posts in 2007, Chrys. In fact, go read the ones in 2008.

It wasn't just pride, Chrys. It was KNOWING one was a force for GOOD. That people were reading. Being INFLUENCED.

And not just politicos, ordinary people. Women, young people. And it was more than that. Every day I'd get e-mails. FAN mail. I'm not kidding. People really were INTERESTED in what I had to say.

I can remember standing at the bar in the Star that night, looking round. Carly hadn't really started stalking yet and I actually thought I was almost rid of her, so I was happy. HAPPY. The happiest I think I've ever been in my life. I had something I'd never had before- a FUTURE. A reason to be around next month, next year, next decade.

I remember thinking 'If only they knew. The UK's 174th political blogger is in the pub'.

I mattered. I wasn't just a figment of my own imagination. I wasn't a failure.

I was a force for good in the world. The internet's High Priest of Free Love and Democratic Communism.

I found it hard to contain myself, I did. Euphoric, contented. Life had never been so good and a few months previously, I'd never have dared dream life could have given me this chance.

I had a future. And God was on my side. That really is how I felt, Chrys.

It was like I had been living in a black and white world and suddenly it had become technicolour. A few months before, I had just existed. Now I LIVED. I felt ALIVE.

I guess it was like that. Like a second chance at life. I can remember looking at my pint feeling- ecstatic, really chrys, ecstatic. It felt like it was too good to be true. Life just wasn't this good to me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I haven't had many fun times in my life. Moments of joy. But that's all they've ever been, for the most part. This was the first REAL thing since- well, EVER.

My best mate said to me as we approached Xmas 'I want you to have a good 2008. I don't feel you've ever really had the happiness out of life you deserve. I want 2008 to be your year'.

By this time, I thought my problems were over, online. I remember saying to him. 'It will be. I've got my blog now. I've found my happiness, I think'.

I really thought I could make it into to the top 100 UK political blogs in 2008. Get past 1,000 hits a day. And start forming alliances with other Left Libertarian bloggers, with a view to setting up a global federation of good people online.

I don't think I've ever BEEN so excited about anything.

Of course, eventually, the stuffing got knocked out of me. The continual battle of fighting lies and psychopathy. The more you promote, the more they throw acid at you.

And, by 2009, I was back where I started. Life was back in black and white. It had no meaning and- I had failed.

Didn't care any longer, really, whether I lived or died. There was no tomorrow. The stress had caused my life to kind of collapse and- I just didn't have the energy left. And I had found I had never cared LESS about anything.

What had kept me going was knowing that I HAD been 174th UK political blogger, that I had it in me. And the belief that evil and lies can't win. Just hang in there, I thought. Hang in there. And eventually, just like Winston Smith, I had been beaten down. 2+2=5.

Oh, Chrys, I can never forget the days when I looked forward to coming home. Got excited about the posts forming in my head, looked forward to the comments. In so many ways my life now is a looking back on those days. The days when every post had twenty plus comments, and I posted every day.

I was the best person it was possible for me to be. I was, every day, making the world a BETTER place. I was a nail, being hammered into the walls of Capitalism and Monogamy. I felt- about as good about myself as it is possible to feel. I was Frodo, carrying the ring to throw into Orodruin. I was Neo, fighting the Matrix.

To come to terms with that, has been hard. Mordor won.

But that was where you came in. I'll come to that.

Bunny was the second good thing. I suppose she showed up in my life in late 2007 and was with it all throughout 2008. I'm not entirely sure when exactly I knew I was in love with her, it just happened. All I know is I've never looked forward to coming home to someone like I looked forward to coming home to her. Of course, in a sense she and blogging fitted in the same slot.

She was just a very good friend. She had an amazing purity. I put her on a pedestal, I did. She was up there on a pedestal and I was down on my knees adoring her. Just talking to her in IM made me feel purified. I'm not saying we always agreed on things, so often we didn't, but she was just GOOD. To me, she was Haydee from the Count of Monte Christo. She never saw the similarity, but that's what she was to me. She was proof that the truly good DO exist.

I even christened one of my pillows 'Bunny' and used to hold it in my arms as I went to sleep. It was bizarre, in a way. At one level I knew damn well it was tragic as hell, me of all people holding a pillow as I slept and calling it 'Bunny'. Yes, she does have an actual name, which I used when taking to her, but to myself I still always called her Bunny.

I wish you had seen her blog, Chrystal. Her writing showed you the women she was. She used to write short pieces mostly, but the imagery, it was poetry. That was it, I think. She was quite emotionally detached in many ways, a girl who observed life and noticed things. She wrote one piece I remember 'From Stirling to Cumbernauld', beautiful. She wrote a piece on this blog once about her former habit of cutting herself, which was raw. Dark. And yet it spoke volumes beyond her words. About the frustration of life, the pain of very existence. I'd never really understood why people did it before. But- she explained it so well.

I guess it's one thing wanting to make the world a better place. But to me, she was the reason WHY you'd want to make it better. She was so, so very, very good, so very, very beautiful inside, Chrys.

And she couldn't see it. She'd- well, she'd not thought a lot of herself and I think she thought she'd let herself down in the past, but she hadn't. What made my angry was that at 17, she'd been, in my view, used by a 32 year old man. She called it a relationship, in fact it had been her first. In my view, what he'd done made him not much better than a pedophile, but then, I have strong opinions on that subject. He DID coerce her a few times, she admitted as such on her blog.

Funny how you can hate someone you don't know. I hated him so much for that, Chrys. Hated him for hurting Bunny. She told me it wasn't my business to hate him and maybe it wasn't, but I did.

I never really worked out WHY she used to talk to me in IM. Not sure it matters. I don't think it WAS the first time I had been in love since Joanna, but I think it was the first time since then that I KNEW it.

I do think it probably WAS a good thing she didn't feel the same way, because I'm not sure what good it would have done had she done so. We lived hundreds of miles apart. And besides, I'm not sure she was ever really that arsed about Marxist politics. Or Evolution theory.

She never hurt me, not really, and that's a lot to be said. She only ever had a positive effect on me, though she didn't see it.

There are times indeed when I wonder if the time I spent conversing with her was in fact constructive and whether, in fact, I got distracted from the matter in hand. But then, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. And she added to my life so very, very much.

You are probably wondering, justifiably, if at some level I'm still in love with her. Oh, of course. And at some level I guess I always will be. She was just so very, very good, Chrys. Though you and her are such very different people and to compare the two of you would be futile, you both have that goodness and purity to you.

Bunny didn't believe in God, or so she thought, but I think God believed in her.

Yes, I'll love her till the day I die. You don't stop loving someone like that. There will be a part of me always owes her. And if indeed I do one day win out, do indeed succeed in life, Bunny will be one of those to whom I owe thanks.

Bunny made me realise WHY I'm fighting this struggle. It is for people like her. The best of humankind.

And she also made me be- unafraid to love. I think I had been afraid until then. And perhaps, with all that had gone on, I might have ended up being twisted by it all. Bunny was a lifeline of purity, a voice from the angels showing me the true path.

The third good thing, was Crazy Baby.

Babies change your life. Babies change your perspective. When you get to take part in the growing up and developing of another life, things change. You know that, because of how good a mother you are. I didn't, not really. Never been a part of a child's life, until then.

I don't think I'd really thought the whole being an uncle thing through. I did expect that I'd study her in depth. Research about child development and compare theories with empirical observations. Study her cognitive processes and thus learn more about the human psyche. All of which happened. What I didn't expect was just how much I'd bond with her. Actually care about her welfare. Be glad to see her.

But then, I never expected that one of her first words would be 'Joe'. Or that she'd want to play games with me. That she'd pull on my leg wanting to be picked up and cuddled.

I had been a little apprehensive about her arrival back in the summer of 2008. A baby. A human life. Which I would have duties and obligations to. I couldn't see myself doing a good job of that one.

But these things creep up on you. I think babies kind of adopt you in a sense. THEY bond with YOU, I think. They kind of draw you in. I never thought I'd end up spending my Saturday nights playing hide and seek with a baby, but it happened.

I find myself these days humming 'Peppa Pig', 'Barney', 'Carrie and David's Popshop', etc. Mind you, I am also teaching Crazy Baby 'Mother' by Pink Floyd.

Babies give you a new perspective on life. You just want what's best for them. Everything else kind of changes its significance.

Well, you know yourself. A happy, smiling baby face. It changes you. She gets a lot of love, she does, but she gives it too. And it's unconditional. Babies are so amazing. I must admit I don't understand people who don't ever want them.

Of course, my task is the easy one. I've never had to change her nappies or any of that. Just buy her presents, give her cuddles, build walls with her, hide behind blankets, make gooey noises, etc. Still, I can't deny she is one of those genuine, innocent pleasures in the world, spending time with her. I guess I'm not surprised, really, that I feel like that.

If I'm honest, I've been so broody for years, every time I've seen a baby. Badly, badly wanted a baby. And now I've been lucky enough to be part of a baby's life.

That paternal side has always been a huge part of me. This is probably the closest I'll get to actually fulfilling it. And don't get me wrong, I do count it as a blessing and a responsibility. They say blood is thicker than water, but being a true 'there' uncle is more than being a sperm donor type father.

And that's what I want to be for CB, always. 'There'.

I don't want her to go through shit in her life. Her father sometimes says she won't be allowed out till she's twenty, but that's just silly and he admits he's half joking. I'm sure she'll grow up faster than any of us expect and even I will be shocked to find she has boyfriends and gets drunk and I'll think 'What happened to little baby?'

But I don't really worry what sort of person she'll grow into. She's a very well behaved child. Never once seen her throw a tantrum. She knows her to get her way, mind. Tug at your leg and look cute. But tantrums aren't her thing. She's better behaved at eighteen months than some people you and I both know at forty two.

What worries me more, is the world she'll grow up into. I guess it's made more concerned about politics, rather than less so. I don't want her growing up in a world which forces her to SELL her labours of mind and body. I don't want her growing up in a world where sink estates, the third world and war exist.

And she's got intelligent parents. I want her to grow up and have a career, not be someone's wife. I want her to have a future. Hope. Freedom.

For her sake, if nothing else, this struggle needs to be fought. Capitalism and Monogamy need to be overthrown, for Crazy Baby.

Every belief I have expressed on this blog, has become more focussed since Crazy Baby was born.

I suppose since she has been born, I have realised just HOW important this struggle is. WE NEED TO WIN.

Time was when I hoped it could be done peacably. By passive resistance. And yes, we had the conservatives, big c and small c to fight. And in that you can include the Labour Party, most mainstream parties, the family values idiots, etc. Most of them will fight fair, will follow the rules of debate and lose gracefully (of necessity they'll lose in a fair debate for the simple reason they're WRONG).

But as my two years blogging have proved, certain c*nts will fight dirty. They're too stupid to understand that the reason they can't win in a fair debate is because they're, er, WRONG. So they'll use underhand tricks, like going round e-mailing people pretending you're up to something dodgy.

Ordinary conservatives aren't a problem. They're basically decent people, just misled by lies and logical fallacies. But a small minority, are like dangerous dogs.

Bottom line is, you saw the depths the High Horse would go to fight goodness and try ensure the victory of his evil beliefs. That's what the struggle is up against.

He is prepared to die, if need be, to prevent the victory of the Revolution.

And therefore, we're going to have to face the facts that come the day, people like him may have to. Do I want it to be that way?

Of course I don't. I don't want anyone to die. But let's put it this way, I'd rather a bullet was put in his brain than my little niece grew up in a world where opinions like his held sway.

So yes- he's a threat to the children of the future. He'll fight dirty to prevent the inevitable defeat of the idiocy he spouts by the forces of progress. He's proven that.

After the revolution, his kind will be gone. In a way, they're sick. Mentally ill. Conservatism is a kind of mental illness after all. A sickness caused by servitude. Much like many poor whites fought and died to defend slavery even though it kept them poor by keeping the labour prices dirt cheap.

Thing is- he thinks he's the good guy. He sees what he is doing is 'protecting marriage and the family and British independence from feminists, socialists, one worlders, Marxists, etc'.

Which he is, of course. He doesn't realise, that that makes him the villain, not the hero. And because we, the good guys, are to him, the evil guys, he thinks anything goes against us.

He doesn't really care if he has to lie to win. He'd rather I was dead thean blogging. You're right, he DOES hate me even though he doesn't know me, just because of what I stand for.

And he'd see me dead rather than see me win.

Fortunately, these sorts are a minority. Most conservatives will give up when they lose the argument. But I'd never really thought about the fact that push come to shove, that guy really WOULD kill me to protect his silly idiocy from me- the feminist, socialist, one worlder, Marxist and- crucially in his twisted head- 'pornographer'.

I'd rather his kind just had a praefrontal lobotomy, but fact is, we're going to have to combat these knobheads. We CAN'T lose to them.

And ultimately, when it comes down to it, do I have a problem shooting his kind?

I just look down at Crazy Baby and think of the difference in her quality of life if the Revolution wins out and the misery she will have if people like the High Horse get their way.

I hope to God I never have to kill a man, but if I do, and it's him, it would be something I could live with. He's a man wants my niece to grow up a slave and would kill me to ensure that happened.

Yes, Crazy Baby made me realise just how much I hate these people. Only my hatred isn't based on hate. Mine is based on love. Love for Crazy Baby. Love for babies generally. And for her, I'll fight if it comes to it and I have to.

I'm not afraid to die for this Revolution, Chrystal. Not afraid. All I'm afraid of, is that we fail. Afraid that the Revolution doesn't happen.

But it has to honey, it HAS to. The thought of it failing is- unspeakable.

But I cannot believe that God will let us fail. And I believe, I do believe, that God put me on this Earth for this Revolution.

And you can call that Messianic arrogance all you will. No, I didn't say I was Christ. Just kindling wood.:)

Crazy Baby, by her very existence, by the love in her eyes, the hope, that innocent human spirit that deserves to live in freedom and love in a United Earth where war, poverty, hatred, possession, greed have been overcome; she has really made me see things as they are.

This is not a game. This is the future of our species at stake. The Left cannot lose, we cannot allow it to happen.

And so it is time to put away childish things and do the work of men. Alcohol, drugs, sex, yes they are all pleasures and there is no harm in partaking of them. In moderation, they are more than just pleasures. They are routes to enlightenment and tools to be used. But the ultimate goal is something I cannot lose site of.

For Crazy Baby's sake. I want her to be proud of what her uncle does with her life. And that means a life of struggle, a life devoted to the overthrow of this evil system. Dieing in that struggle and FOR that struggle, if necessary.

It IS a war, of sorts. A war of hearts, of minds and of souls. Hopefully it doesn't become one of bodies too, but one has to accept it might. But to opt out of this war, to simply decide 'Fuck it, I can't do anything so I'll just try and be 'happy'. Find love and try make some money. Have my own box and watch a box and raise rugrats because that's what people do', that's cowardice. Accepting defeat. It's being one of the good men that did nothing and allowed the triumph of evil to continue.

And if there is a Heaven and Hell, do you not think God would damn us to Hell for not taking up this fight?

Of one thing I am sure. I have no idea whether God is a he or a she and I don't believe in Heaven and Hell, but I AM sure that, to quote Mick 'Crocodile' Dundee 'Me and God, we'd be mates'.

And I tell you something else- God doesn't give a fuck who you're screwing either. In my view, the more you fuck, the more s/he likes you. I can't quite see why he wants anyone to be a virgin. It would kind of be a waste, wouldn't it?

This Revolution is, if anything, the fulfillent of TRUE Christianity. In fact it is the true fulfillment of ALL religion. All religion that is any good, anyroads.

Anyway, you. The fourth good thing in the last four years.

I was singing in the shower this morning. A very silly song, it has to be said, one I made up myself and not up to my usual lyrical standard. It goes to the tune of Club Copacabana and it goes 'I love you honey, my honey bunny, my honey bunny honey bun, my honey bunny honey bun, my honey, honey bun, my honey, bunny hon, I love you honey, my honey bunny'.

That's how you make me feel. When you ring and go 'Watcha doing?' You're just so, so cute, you are.

You're the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down. You're the sunshine after the rain. Or the rainbow.

You put loads of images in my head, you do. But most of all, I just have this vision of you in a loosely fitting dress of white satin with your full breasts exposed, kind of like a Minoan priestess, a gold circlet on your brow, a garland of mistletoe about your neck. And you dance, you dance barefoot on hilltops by moonlight to the sounds of panpipes.

That's you, Chrystal.

When I talk to you, you make me curl up and giggle. Well, you knew that anyway :)

Luthien Tinuviel, my Elf Queen.

I don't think you realise how you've made me feel- clean again. The one thing about the horrors I lived through was that I felt sullied.

You know how rape victims wash themselves over and over trying to remove the rapists bodily fluids from them and long after they've gone, they still feel dirty? Like no amount of washing will remove the rapist from them?

That's how I felt. It wasn't just the stalking. It was that the whole online world could see that I had been the object of the 'affections', if you can call them that, in such a degraded way, by such a degraded being.

I felt sullied, dirtied. Like I was covered in a film of Carly filth, a sort of mixture of sweat, shit, piss and male semen, Carly in this sensation ejaculating male semen.

I felt covered in it, I did. Myself and my blog, my pride and joy- covered in the eyes of the world- by filthy Carly bodily excretions and secretions. And I FELT it too, everwhere I went.

And smelling of slime. The taint of her dirty, squalid, sordid, impurity.

Your love has made me feel clean again, at last.

And I mean that. Before Christmas 2007 I would attend Mass every other week for the most part. That fell away during 2008. And it was, I'll admit, because I felt that slime, that film of filth had tainted my very soul. Up until then, I had always felt a kind of oneness with God. That whilst s/he and I had had a difficult relationship, nevertheless, before God, I was clean and pure.

As I have said, my grandmother always wanted me to be priest and I do believe that people have a choice. It as an act of Free Will to accept priesthood, but still, to feel the call and walk away is the greatest treason there is. To be born Catholic, to be endowed with intelligence and communicative abilities and not devote yourself to God's cause one way or another, there can be no greater evil. Keep your heart pure and serve God.

And no, you know damn well I don't believe that means abstain from pleasures. What I do believe is, it is a state of mind. Priesthood is the determination to make your relationship with 'God' the primary relationship in your life.

And that applies to women as well as men. Service to a cause is what elevates us.

I felt tainted by what had happened to me. That film of filth covered me and I could not look up at the face of Christ and feel pure before him. The taint of having being on object of such a filthy obsession, a 'passion' that had nothing at all to do with God and simply to do with a squalid desire to possess me, and that filthy obsession to have been so public, that that FILTH had tainted a blog devoted to the work of Christ and had degraded it's author- me- how, how could I look Jesus in the eye?

I felt dirty, polluted. I had failed, let down Christ.

It was bigger than that. I felt my very flesh to have been dirtied. No amount of washing could cleanse me, Chrystal. And my sense of self esteem hit rock bottom.

It was only last weekend my best mate said to me 'You're back'.

I was. Back to being me. PROUD of myself again. CLEANSED. I had stopped making effort, honey. Stopped trying to look like the ideal man, because I felt it didn't matter, that that taint that corruption had poisoned my soul and made me incapable of truly being the man I was meant to be.

Before 2007, I dressed in black as a matter of course, for the most part. To go out, anyway. Black suit, black shirt, black sunglasses. Because that is how I feel comfortable dressing. And of course, it's because I feel most comfortable dressing as clergy dress. By dressing that way, I consciously emulate the finest of human beings and lay claim to be their equal. I had stopped dressing like that because I felt the taint made me unworthy. The film of flth made me impure.

Even the amount of products I used. I've started using them again because I believe I can be beautiful again. I'd slipped into just putting a bit of hairspray and a dash of aftershave on because I'd come to believe that no amount of beauty products could make me beautiful when that stain of Carly filth made my soul a sewer.

Now, I'm back to moisturising, I've bought hairdye again (I'll probably recolour next weekend), I'm back using curl boosting gel, the lot.

I feel that my innocence and purity has come back. The taint of spiritual corruption has been cleansed from me. I can be an object of innocent sexual desire and yet not lose that connection to God that Ihave been able to feel again, through you.

And I can take Mass again.

I think that was the greatest horror of all. Feeling that that filth had cut me off from God. I no longer felt PURE.

I had no idea what it would take to give me that back. Until you came along.

You were what I needed to cleanse me. A love that was pure, holy and sanctified. Above the rather squalid desire to find a mate. A love based not on the yearnings of the flesh (though both you and I do, I think desire bodily union with eachother), but on the higher connections of the mind and soul.

You are a priestess of God to me. When I talk to you, it feels like praying. And that is how it should be. True love, is prayer.

I feel God in you, Chrystal. God shines out of you, you are radiant with her glow. You cleanse my soul, your pure goodness as filled my veins, washing away the taint.

You said when we first started speaking that you thought that what had happened to me was so traumatic you thought I'd need counselling. And you were right- then.

But don't you see, you've done that. YOU healed me. Your love. Your genuine, innocent pure love that had no axe to grind. God sent you to me, Chrystal Smith.

And that, I guess brings me to the point.

I wouldn't say that life is back together yet. The recovery from the collapse is not yet complete. Financially, I'm still bust. That isn't going to be sorted over night. But I'm slowly becoming the man I was before the events of late 2007. The momentum is there. I FEEL the presence of God again, through you.

You talk of us building something. I think we already have. We talk, sometimes idly, sometimes yearningly of being together.

But aren't we already? I know I sleep with you beside me, in spirit. Just as you are with me now, in spirit.

I believe the connection we have to be more profound than most people who THINK they are in love can ever feel. Sometimes you know what I'm thinking before I say it. More importantly, so often you see what I do not; the why. You validate my thought processess, you show me which ones truly proceed from ruthless logic and which ones are subjective reasoning based on subjective experience.

You ADD to me, rather than subtract. This is not Platonic, it is more.

But both you and I are progressive thinkers. The age has thrown up a paradox. This age no longer NEEDS couples, it no longer needs us to be together physically. And if you think about it, what good would it serve, aside from the fact you and I would end up doing a LOT (and I mean a lot) of love making.

Oh, Chrystal, I DO want to make love with you so very much, I do. But we will one day. I'm sure of that. and when we do, the Earth will move and all six billion people will go 'Christ,what WAS that? An earthquake? Christ's second coming? Or Joe and Chrystal cumming together?'

I think we just have to be patient with that one, honey. You, you have your daughter to think of, for now. You're a good mother, Chrystal. She's lucky to have you and as I tell you, I'm sure she knows it in her heart of hearts, even though right now it suits her to play you and her father off against eachother.

As for me, I belong here. My friends, those I care about, live here. I have a niece. And I have- newfound obligations, politically.

I cannot see it ever being plausible that we could ever have lives that physically coincide, but, I would like it, I would :)

Would you really like it over here though? And you couldn't come over just for me. That wouldn't be right, much as I'd like it.

Though I'm hoping you DO come over soon, to visit. Or we do that Mexico thing, or somehow end up uniting our aching limbs...

I think perhaps we just have to take it as is. I love you, I do. I really, really do. So very, very much. I never thought I'd find such a pure, beautiful, sacred- and reciprocal- love. And from someone so pure and shining as you.

I know it's hard, because the only way we can talk is on the phone. And let's face it, we can never have what people who love eachother get to have, physically.

But I don't see that as a problem. Yes, it may well be that for us, love making can only occur once a year or so, but then for one very vigourous week where we never leave the bed. But what we have is so much MORE than that. It is a pure religious experience, I believe that.

I guess you worry I'll lose interest in you now I'm starting to get actively involved in politics again. That if there is an attractive female I find at these events, she'll have the advantage over you of physical reality. That simply because I don't have to choose between her and The Movement ever, because they are always in the same place at the same time, you'll lose out.

You'll never lose out, honey. No one can replace you.

As I think I might have mentioned, I've been asked to contribute articles to a left wing publication. Which I shall be doing. As I say, I seem to have landed on my feet. It will have a readership far bigger than this blog ever had, certainly bigger than that of our Fascist persecutor. The only downside is, it will essentially be preaching to the converted. The glory of 'Crushed by Ingsoc' was that it packaged a Marxist/Darwinist/Nietzchist/Catholic perspective in such a way it appealed to a lay audience that, if they heard the words 'Trotsky' 'Militant Left', etc, would be put off.

But Tuesday's meeting was good. Two points I think I siezed on. One was how the State appaaratus uses 'The Family' as part of its oppressive system and therefore, it should be a target of ours. The other was, wording and marketing.

'Crushed by Ingsoc' showed what can be done. How, with good marketing, the forces of Good can reach a wider audience.

In point of fact, there's little point me writing fresh articles when I have a whole archive to pillage here. All good stuff that will energise a fresh audience.

When I do come back to blogging, I will be forewarned. I know the sort of evil I can expect. But come back I will have to, one day. The battle for ideas is what matters and that battle will have to be fought online.

The Libertarian Left HAVE TO WIN ONLINE.

Yes honey, that means USING THE INTERNET to recruit amongst young people. To spread ideas. To co-ordinate action against the system. To break down walls. Fight censorship. Fight control systems.

And yes, there are certain right wing bloggers who will use evil lies against us because they can find no other way to win. We know that, the last two years have proved that.

But we have behind us the certainty that ultimately we will win. Like us, they believe that God is on their side. But all people need to do is read between the lines, read the archives of this blog and read THEIR archives. The devil is in the details and by their deeds shall they be known, ultimately.

But I digress.

What you havedone for me, is cleanse me. Back in 2007, I was, I think pure in the eyes of God. A sinner, sure, who isn't, but as my Gran would say 'something about you will always remain forever innocent'.

You have returned that innocence to me. In two ways.

Firstly, I didn't see how to purify myself. Also, I missed the subtler evils of this war. Yes, Carly's evil sullied and polluted me. I DID need cleansing of that. But aside from the pollution, it's power to warp was limited.

I think one can see looking over this blog that the taint of her pollution affected me psychologically quite deeply. I think the posts of 2008 lack the innocence of purity of those of 2007. Because they are seen through a film of slime. But the real evil was not of Carly.

'Look into the abyss long enough and the abyss will reach back into you'. Carly isn't an abyss, she's a very shallow sewer. I could not BECOME Carly. Carly is- when all said done- nasty, yes, but also stupid, wildly emotional, violent and insane. Her evil is uncalculated. It just IS. It is the evil of an unthinking animal.

The real abyss was coming online everyday fighting an unseen hidden battle against a whispering psychopath, a man who, like me, believes he serves God, and the strengths of his convictions made him the more dangerous. His evil was the evil of cold logic and ideological motivation. And lack of conscience.

I tried not to become him, but I HAD to understand him. And that meant looking into the abyss. The closet Nazism. The lecherous desire for girls half his age. The bigotry, the homophobia, the male chauvinism. The Walter Mitty personality that creates entire false life histories. The devious, exploitative nature. The mind of the conspiracy theorist. The weak, unprincipled, childish, name calling, finger pointing amorality. The consiencelessness. The inability to let a grudge go. The sexual confusion hidden by the hatred of sex. The insecurity, the feelings of inadequecy satisfied by being 'King of the Blogging conservatives'.

That was the real abyss that reached out to get me. In early 2008, I still dismissed him as basically a buffoon. A dribbling idiot, an online sleaze at most. It was only as time progressed and I saw his hidden machinations. I had no choice but to study him because ultimately, the onslaught of evil I faced emanated from him. Even Carly was but a puppet of his. Most people don't read his blog closely, if they did they would see between the lines; a nasty blog propagating the nasty opinions of a nasty man. Reading his opinions on sex, marriage, rape, Europe, socialism', the 'illuminati masons' and other topics, I knew I was dealing with a special kind of insanity; the type that looks sane but is still, nevertheless, the madness of Hitler.

No, I never took on his warped views. But something of his warpedness seeped into me. To fight off his evil, a part of me saw into his psyche and his machinations and without knowing it, my very soul fell into jeopardy.

I ALMOST turned into him.

And THAT, honey, THAT is what you saved me from.

You saved me from becoming evil by fighting on evil's terms. Because I fought back, sometimes even resorting to his own methods.

'And they looked from pig to man and man to pig and already there was no difference'.

I forgot that I was the better man.

This was not, I realise now, my crucifiction.

This was my forty days in the wilderness.

It WAS a test from God. The victory was not in 'defeating him', not in 'winning' a pissing contest. It was in winning the battle not to become him. He, he lost a long time ago. He lost the battle that really mattered many years before he and I ever knew of eachother. His soul is already a burnt and blackened shell and he is beyond redemption. But still, I pray for him. He has been forgiven by me, but it is not my forgiveness he needs.

And I have NOT become him. But only thanks to you.

And this leads on to the second part.

I think Joanna loved me properly. But since then, tis true, I haven't known the love of a good woman. Not really. I'm not saying I haven't been in love and I'm not saying there haven't been women who have, in their own way, felt some sort of emotion to me that was, to them, 'love'.

But you, you have shown me something I never thought I'd get. What you have given me has been pure, wholesome, selfless and ennervating. It wasn't just some desire to bed me. You don't want anything from me, like me to be your boyfriend, or your husband, fertilise your eggs or some other such shallow urges.

I don't think I have felt loved by a woman the way I feel loved by you. Joanna, maybe, but we were too young. This has a strength that comes with age, experience, maturity and mutual respect and caring.

I think it has a lot to do with your own spiritual nature. Fact is- I've never been loved by someone with a religious disposition before and it shows. That and the fact your IQ is so high.

Your love is built on total understanding and comprehension of me, not a desire to make me into something that satiates you. And that makes me want to aspire to be someone worthy of being loved by you. I feel that I should aspire to be the person it is that you love, because I'm proud to be that person.

I guess the last two years involved a certain loss of faith in myself. You gave me that back, through your purity. That sense of self worth that was stolen from me has been restored.

You never make me feel small, you never make me feel dirty, you never make me feel afraid.

I feel- pure and wholesome, because I am loved so purely and wholesomely by someone as pure and wholesome as you.

You are my angel, my priestess, my muse, my honeybunny, my lovepuppy, my Julia, my Britomart, you are all these things.

Your love is certainly the deepest and purest I have ever received. I don't think I will ever be loved by a woman as good as you.

And so- where does this leave us?

I trust you. I see you as someone I'll always love. I guess I see you as- part of my adopted family. One of my loved ones. I don't feel barriers between us.

I can't see us ever arguing, ever. I can't see us ever hurting eachother.

No, I don't think it's nuts that you are, when all is said and done, older than me and on the other side of the Atlantic. It doesn't feel that way to me, not when we chat.

You feel like a girl of twenty five with your head in my lap. Just- with a wiser head on your shoulders.

I WANT you to be part of my adopted family for as long as you want to be in it. This isn't some kind of deal 'I do this for you, if you do this for me'. It's not about what you do, it's about who you are. I don't want you to be 'mine', I don't want anything from you other than that you already give. Your purity and your love.

I just want you to be my friend who I love, Chrystal.

And I want you to be that, always. You make me a better person.

Your soul shines like a beacon that warms the good, and has the Reptiles hissing and spitting. You are to them, like sunlight upon trolls. And I never want to lose that light.

So Thankyou, Chrystal, from the bottom of my heart for coming into my life. And I hope you will be in it as long as it lasts.

You have given me back the faith to KNOW for certain that when I leave this mortal coil, I will indeed have made this world a better place due to my actions within it. You rescued me from the brambles I was enmeshed in and led me back to the road.

And I hope you'll be with me every step of the way :)

And so, before I leave you with a bit of Muse to indicate the struggle is BACK ON, I leave you again with my song to you;

I love you honey, my honey bunny, my honey honey hon, my honey bunny honey bun, my honey bunny hon, my bunny honey bun, I love you honey, my honey bunny :)

And now, let us march together towards the sound of gunfire. There is a world needs changing for the better.

Yours, lovingly,



Anonymous said...

I would really love to leave something in my characteristic smart-ass way, but the fact is...I...can't.

Today I needed this post like...cocaine;)

I think it was MY turn to receive healing today and you did so marvelously.

There couldn't have been a more perfect day and time. (More on that when I call you in a bit).

Nope, not mad, nor will I "condemn you" on this one.

It wasn't overly revealing of our private selves (in ways you KNOW will be twisted by some) and thank GOD it wasn't about Carly and Higham again;)

It is SO easy to do, become bitter, angry, hate-filled...but when we do, we become just like them.

So the fight is against anyone letting you steal your joy, ever again..and it's a process.

Like grief, having been a victim of crime will put you through phases.

"Denial, anger, bargaining, anger, depression acceptance."

People don't realize they don't necessarily go in that order and you can often bounce back and forth between them...and you WILL until you're done.

But at some point?

You have to be done, Crushie...but only if you want to be.

You may always have a scar because someone stole away the thing that initially gave you your hope back...and that scar will be there to remind you to NEVER let it happen to you again.

Love to you, baby.

Oh and...can we HEAR this little song you sang in the shower?

Better yet, video?

Crushed by Youtube, 2010?

Thank you for this...I cried about 3 times during reading it but shhh, don't tell anyone. Well, except these people at the library, I think they already know, lol.


Crushed said...

Oh, I wouldn't say smart-ass was characteristic of you at all.

For the most part you engage brain quite effectively before opening the the verbal doors.

But lost for words, no, that isn't usual for you :)

It was stuff I find easier to write than say out loud.

Twisted? Oh, they'll twist it. If you said you loved your mother, they'dsay you were shagging her and if you said you didn't, he'd say you were a psychopath.

Of course they'll twist it!

And it was about them, in a way.

The real point of what Carly and Higham is all about, is The Screwtape Letters.

They know, in their hearts, they're squalied inside. They seek out good people so they can pervert them. They don't realise that themselves of course, but the fact is, it's a bit like misery loves company.

If they can get people to say 'My, you're so right!', then they feel that they are validated as people.

In Carly's case, that validation has to be emotional. She needs to be told by others that her feelings aren't twisted and psychopathic.

Whereas Higham needs to be told that his nasty worldview is actually- intellectually sound and 'good'.

Of course, to get that validation, it involves hiding what their emotions and worldview are, respectively and attempting to slay those who they knew will catch them out.

The thing you have to remember is they themselves are sustained by having multiple personalities.

They have to believe their own lies, but also know that they're lieing.

That's the fucked up thing. Get inside their heads and it's still impossible to trace your steps.

And you're right, you don't realise how it polutes you until you realise you're mind is starting to develop in ways like theirs.

I think I caught myself in time and I remain an actually existant personality. Not an artifical construct in which the true human being has whithered away along time ago leaving only a facade and a system of conditioned impulses.

But I do feel pure again, and I thank you for that.

And yes, actually getting back into REAL politics, I'm so excited about it.

I'll be out tomorrow leafletting in Bordesley and Sparkbrook and yes, it's what it's all about.

We all carry scares, honey, it's what makes us.

I do believe that you can only become the best you can through a paradoxical process.

Suffering is the fire that forges us, and yet it can bend, twist and break so many.

To never suffer is to never discover either yourself, or learn true empathy or understanding.

But sometimes you can get lost in it and become twisted and warped.

All hate, always, is evil. No matter what it's justification.

Oh, it couldn't happen again. I'd nip it in the bud. If it hadn't been my own distrust of the Police (based on personal experience of them in their capacity of hirelings of the oppressors and enforcers of RIDICULOUS anti-pleasure laws) I'd have involved them in their LEGITIMATE function- protecting people- at a time when it would still have been effective.

But maybe all these things DO follow some sort of higher plan.

A video of me singing in the shower...

These things always look good in films, don't they.

But in reality, would you REALLY want to see it?

Me cleaning my nether regions? Not a pretty sight, surely? ;)

I think there is naked footage of me on Youtube anyway. Well, in my underwear anyway.

On a table in a Japanese restaurant.

I DO look good naked, it has to be said ;)

Aw, hon, you don't need to cry, you'll get me all uncomfortable and not knowing where to look...

You are a beautiful human being, honey.

Just believe it :)

Anonymous said...

This post was very insightful...

Anonymous said...

Okay, I MEANT to write ALL about Carly and Higham again.

See, THIS is the Joe you hide and you shouldn't. You think the playah Joe is cool and he's SO not, to men OR women, you come across sounding like an asshole.

As for The Screwtape Letters and temptation towards bitterness?

We all do, babe, all of us..some of us can just admit it.

We cannot admit, however, to things we did not do or motivations that we don't have (that are often projected onto us by those that do, as a clever deflection of their own misdeeds).

But,I digress....proud of you for you campaigning and your new job within that organization. Am I giving away your secrets?

Okay, I'll let you tell.

Maybe you already did, I admit, I skim them sometimes. I love you, but I do.

I'm hiding before you throw the washcloth from your netherparts my way

Crushed said...

Sweet Cheeks- I think I AM quite an insightful person, for the most part.

It's a curse and a blessing. It often intimdates people because I usually have them sussed in a way that scares them.

Chrys- That depends. There are men out there who quite like access to the-er- 'trade secrets' :)

Actually, I think it's part of why people LIKE me in real life. That I AM both.

We're all human, honey. Thing is, hate and bitterness are such ignoble emotions. You can't LIVE by them.

Oh, the deflection thing, so very, VERY true. That's what I found so irritating.

That them pair would do their shit than accuse ME of doing what THEY'D done.

Oh, it's not a job (wish it was, I'd love to get paid to do what I love), it's just I've been asked to submit articles.

And I'm getting involved in getting Salma Yaqoob elected in Hall Green.

I think the wind of change is blowing, it is.

It just needs focussing. People know they're sick of mainstream politics, we just need to make sure that is harnassed properly and doesn't get diverted towards reactionary agendas.

Oh, I always give my little friend a good scrub. He even gets a bit of aftershave.

I like to keep him ready for action.

Anonymous said...


Groan...and...just how did this initially connective conversation digress back to being about your little friend's readiness for action?



Crushed said...


Yes, he does seem quite rattled at the moment, doesn't he?

I do understand him now. Sad, really.

Such a wasted life he must have led. So much bitterness.

My little friend, well, I'm a man. It means I have two brains and only enough blood to run one at a time.

You DID ask about me and my netherparts in the shower. I was just saying I look after my little friend :)

Anonymous said...

No i believe I said I was leaving before you threw the washcloth used for those "netherparts" at me.

But ya know, news from the netherparts is always good news;)


Crushed said...

A washcloth, is that like a flannel?

I use shampoo, to be honest. I wash my netherparts the same way I wash my hair, same procedure.

You know, maybe we should stop talking about my genitals. My fault, I concede.

Let's talk about your latest post. I liked it, actually. Powerful points.

Something every so-called Christian should read. Loved the Gandhi quote.

Anonymous said...

I see the children took note and scribbled something with crayons at daycare today.

Well, if you liked that, you're going to LOVE this new one.

It's about the thinly-veiled racist campaign called "Britons Deciding Britain's future"...

...AKA known as the new Aryan Nation...erm...I mean "Albion" Alliance.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Crushie!

However, they can pogue ma thoin.

Which means, kiss my white, 82.8% British-Irish derivation, Southern ass.

Crushed said...

Funnily, I thought of raising the Albion Alliance at last night's meeting.

The English Defence League came up, who claim not to be Racists, but basically campaign against Muslims and want 'British Jobs for British Workers'.

Obviously, we're treating them as basically the same as the BNP.

I did think of flagging the Albion Alliance as another BNP/UKIP type Fascist grouping we need to keep an eye on, but let's face it, they are a minnow in the sea of loony right groupings.

Good post though, I liked it :)