i should be in bed, but once more the mystery emailer strikes and this time, with something that has a decidedly instant and rather galvanic effect.
the item received, mixmastered as usual, quotes from the universal memory project alpha. it wasn’t there when i went to double-check, but that is hardly surprising.
as it turns out, google’s cache has it. so… confirmed. and in the confirmation, humor — me at myself.
i’m stubborn as we all know… but this one actually flipped a switch somewhere inside. i actually felt it. the result, below… and gratitude to the mystery emailer. they do not seem to know it, but they’ve actually done me quite a lovely favor in their continuing attempts to bother me.
thank you, whomever you are (i do have a guess, but it doesn’t matter)… and may the thoughts and hopes that motivate you to continue doing this be returned to you ten fold.
first — a partial text of the item received by email:
“A little patience, and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their spells dissolve, and the people, recovering their true sight, restore their government to its true principles.”
you’d have to be familiar with the history to understand what this is supposed to mean… but suffice to say it has nothing to do with politics, government, or plurals. combined with the other statements (which i’ll not repeat as they seem to be from private sources), more of the same.
for the record, mystery emailer, this will be my last acknowledgement or response to anything you may choose to send along, since i cannot think of a single thing i would or could possibly say beyond what rests here.
thank you for that as well. truly.
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so heath and michael are still at it, eh? pathetic. how can a reign pass over those who hold it so tightly? they are the reign – clinging to it and swearing they’re violated.
true sight? would that presume that ever they had it. but oh, build another sandcastle and weep for the tides!
foolish boys hiding from their own shadows — adults long ago were yawning. still they scream, hoping for attention.
dramatis persona! oh wronged lambs! it is a wonder that they have not yet figured out that their petulant whining never convinced and they compromised any principle they ever thought to claim long ago.
liars. base and crabbed curs. venal and vindictive, they carry on as if persistence and volume will ever make those hysterical lies true.
witch indeed. moan and sway and declare themselves righteous with all the rhetoric belying them as soon as they speak. fool themselves, but they fool few others. this is the sorriest example yet of their sad, snake-filled minds.
i literally sit here and laugh at myself because i actually took up their part against myself and insisted that i see the way to understanding and forgiveness.
what little, petty boys they are. truly, i marvel for the time i have spent granting them benefit of the doubt, arguing myself into doing so, forcing myself to think they could ever, POSSIBLY do or be other than this pathetic knot of fear and psychotic certainties.
the irony of it is amusing in this moment. every thing they touch dies… have you noticed? every, single thing ever touched by them — dies. not because it had to, but because they are, apparently, gleeful murderers – unable to commit to anything and incapable of keeping even a single promise given to such ends.
and oh! so many promises! one after another, broken and cast into the dust. but they have no care of it. why should they? there are always gullible ones to believe, to work for the dream they speak, not knowing how quickly they abandon one after another for the next and newest fluttering thing.
the corpses of their many abandonments are strewn across the landscape as any who care to look will see. if ever they managed to actually finish anything they started, surely the world itself would perish from the surprise of it.
how i chuckled when that pitiful quote arrived by email. i wonder if whomever is sending these realizes they stopped hurting long ago… and, more often than not, only underscore the absolute perfidy that is known of both of them.
the very idea of trying to use me as an excuse for their failings when there are so many failures bearing their scrawls and names. witches and spells. hah! such pitiful drama queens. and oh, that i could still think to try and look to their better parts when they make it so very clear that all they ever turn toward is more and more vicious and vile slanders.
i had enshrined those better parts and told myself it was best to remember them as they were before their hatefulness and hysteria.
i actually worked at it. hah. isn’t that hilarious? all these months… forcing myself to think more kindly of them and remember them well and all the time, they could think of nothing to do but continue spouting their own, special brand of poison.
here, the very wryest of grins… that would be me, wouldn’t it? foolish to the end.
i have said all this last year that i will learn. and you know what? i think i finally am. despite myself, i find you have taught me quite well indeed.
in kind, in spades, and at long last with nothing but the utter contempt and disdain they have worked so very hard to earn and so richly deserve —
i sincerely hope that every ill word they have spoken, every lie they have told, every sentence soured with this sickness that is them returns to them and rests in their very bones.
i sincerely hope it rests upon them until they are as thoroughly soaked and sore with it as i have been this last year for struggling to look past their lies and find the way to find anything whatever of them that would permit me to think well of them.
i sincerely hope it rests upon them until they forget the feeling of sunshine and find that the horrid, empty cold of such sick, sad poison as they continue to spread is all they can feel.
i sincerely hope their every thought of relief or release from it’s touch is stymied at the very moment it seems most likely to succeed.
i sincerely hope that every step taken toward hands stretched out to them in kindness finds those hands withdrawn from them in horror – that their sickness wafts before them like a pestilent wind and warns away those who would think to give care when they can only return cruelty and callousness.
i sincerely hope that every sliver of hope they hold in life strangles slowly in the face of their own, sick need to slander others to shore up their flagging self-esteem.
it is much too late to recant those softer thoughts, and i would not do so anyway…. but i am content it was possible to find them in spite of them… even as i am equally content to let them fall into the pile of ash they cannot help but be in contrast to the craven reality of what they are and choose.
i will never be sad that i tried to make of them better than they could manage to be… but i will always feel nauseous to realize the sheer futility of it. i don’t expect you would understand why.
suffice to say that they are the saddest, sickest souls i have ever had the misfortune to encounter and i will count myself extremely fortunate for the remainder of my days that the profound error i made to ever think them otherwise was corrected before i had more than cuts and bruises to show for it.