Sunday, May 21, 2017

138 Gordon's Diaries Bichos y Escorpiones LightSpeed Spanish

A poem by Gary G Pelow, The Troll

They call me a troll to shame me into silence for pointing out how bad reality is in terms of human suffering.
They especially try to shame me into silence when I suggest you can still have good mental health and good physical health, even happiness in the midst of an insane world with so much human violence and suffering.
They try to shame me into silence, because unlike them I do not just look at an insane world and complain and fret about it like scared toddlers who are helpless, and offer no solutions or healthy coping skills and actions.
Yes, you can be in good mental health by getting into treatment and sticking with it, like in my case Schizophrenia, and contribute something productive to an inhuman, cruel, vicious world.
To do something constructive to lower or prevent the suffering of other human beings, animals as well for that matter.
We can all find health and happiness in compassion, in becoming someone who does not just bleat on about their own suffering and hopelessness, and instead do things and actions, however large or small, to reduce the suffering of our fellow sentient beings, human or otherwise, by giving to charity, becoming a nurse, volunteering at a meal kitchen that feeds the homeless, lonely, mentally ill, the poor, the victims of crime or drug and alcoholism as people try to get back on their feet.
Some just give money to charity, others who have the means to do so become doctors.
Some people can become politically active for a cause that concerns them morally.
Mind you, I am talking about mentally ill people doing these things to both help themselves by giving meaning and purpose to their lives and reduce suffering of others.
I have found as a person with Schizophrenia I can maintain both my mental and physical health in the ways I just suggested.
Being a childish whiner about how bad the world and the state of humanity with no suggestions for coping that are reasonable and logical is just accepting nihilism and hopelessness.
They ignored my suggestions, they said I was a troll with a sick mind.
A sick mind? For helping others? A sick mind? Really?
So I asked them, What is your response to an insane world in your view of hopelessness of it all? Suicide? Drugs? Alcoholism? Hedonism? Beating your children? Sex addiction? Murder? Spitting on homeless people? Scientology? Teaching fables of the Bible and Koran written by Bronze Age, illiterate, goat fucking savages about Allah or Jesus or Gods?
I just hear crickets in response.

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Jesus wants your lusts!

HOMOSEX PRIDE Parade: East (Tokyo) VS West

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Bombarded

I woke up early this morning, shaking in fear, lost in paranoia and delusion left over from the previous day.
It was 7:00 A.M., I went out to smoke a cigarette in front of my apartment house, my apartment is one of six in the house.
As soon as I got to the side walk and lit up a cigarette some black woman came up from behind me and started babbling out non-sensical speech, words just poured out of her mouth randomly, no sentences, no grammar, no point.
Now as someone who has a severe mental illness, Schizophrenia, I immediately INTELLECTUALLY recognized this woman as being mentally ill, her speech is what shrinks call "word salad", and mentally ill people in this neighborhood are not unusual.
But, she unnerved me none the less, there was part of me believing she was just playing a role, street theater, in an ORGANIZED conspiracy to stalk, hunt, and harass me.
You see, the previous day, I and some friends went to dinner held for free, five nights a week, in the basement of a local Roman Catholic Church.
As I approached the front entrance to the church there was a man standing there texting on his smart phone, I did not even notice him.
One of my other friends came up to me and said this guy had been standing near the church for 2 hours in the same spot not moving an inch, just texting.
As I turned around to look at him, I immediately recognized him, he had been in that same spot two weeks earlier and I had already video recorded him once before on my smart phone.
So, in front of my friends who pointed out this man to me this second time, I whipped out my smart phone and walked right up to him about five feet in front of him and was digitally video recording him, he saw me, it was obvious to him what I was doing, it did not seem to bother him to be recorded, he said nothing, I said nothing.
I recorded him for two minutes, part of me thinking he was there to harass me in particular.
I posed the video on Minds.com social media and You Tube.
It may have been nothing harmful or dangerous to me, but I could not resist the temptation to do something.
Confronting him verbally and physically was never going to be a choice, that shit is illegal.
So I recorded him, posted him on the internet either because he was a dangerous stalker or private investigator in some conspiracy or I just sank into paranoia and posted a random video that means nothing.
I can never tell which.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Disconcerting

I am always distracted, there is so much information coming at me from all directions, I get confused,
disoriented.
I hear the traffic outside driving by my house and somewhere down the block I hear chainsaws being used to cut tree branches at the same time.
Someone drives by with their car stereos blasting music and there is banging noises coming from my neighbor's apartment.
Early in the morning, it is Spring here, I hear birds start chirping about 1 hour before the Sun comes up, once that happens I am awake for the rest of the day, my confusion begins.
I hate those fucking birds.
The Sun is blaring right now very brightly after 9 days of cold and rain and Lake Ontario flooding last week.
The traffic outside is still going strong even as I write this, it is so fucking annoying, I just want perfect quiet and calm surroundings, no noises.
I turn on my computer and immediately I am bombarded with images, music, sound, voices.
I can not seem to concentrate on one thing at a time and the information bombarding me makes me nervous and anxious and filled with dread.
Its getting warmer here, it is May, since stupid, loud and drunken assholes will be blaring their music and screaming and shouting outside along the strip, I have to wear ear plugs just to fucking sleep, if I can sleep at all.
When I am hit with so much information in all forms of images, noises, people, texting, I get insomnia, my mind races all night.
I think if I had no friends, nowhere to meet people without alcohol being present, I would go nuts.
I can meet my friends nightly for dinner, there is about ten of us, we go to the same table every night, we talk, we support each other, it is a time to talk but also to wind down our minds reeling from our troubles.

Thursday, May 4, 2017

A poem by Gary G Pelow, What is real? I do not know anymore.

Cars drive slowly past my house suspiciously looking at me as I smoke my cigarette, I think they are stalking and hunting me to kill me.
I write very often of the dangers of the fascism known as Islam, I make no secret that Mohammad was a pedophile.
Maybe people are hunting me and getting ready to kill me for telling the truth, the reality of Islam, or some other subject I have spoken on or written about.
I have Schizophrenia and I fear Muslim extremists and their passive supporters are organizing a hunt against me, a literal hunt, where I will be followed, tracked, cornered and killed, or tortured and then killed like I am a fucking animal, like a deer or a pheasant, or maybe they, those hunters trying to murder me think I am less than even animals.
My reality, or my perception of it, is confused by many factors, I am mentally ill, I do have a history of paranoid fantasies of conspiracies being carried out against me like stalking me, hiring private investigators to follow me, filming me, putting me under close surveillance, I believed at one point all of this was being done by The Church of Scientology because I spent years publicly criticizing them and their fake, corporate church.
My paranoia is also inflamed by stress from the uncertainty of my future, Trump is President and if I lose healthcare coverage, or even just part of it, I could end up dead, death is a recurring theme in my fears, real or not, of those who are trying to kill me, be they Muslim or drug gangs or other enemies I may or may not have.
I live in fear everyday over the idea I am being watched and followed by a large group of people from many different backgrounds in a highly well organized plan to hunt me after years of deliberately breaking me down to the point of a mental collapse or suicide.
I have not, will not commit suicide like my enemies want, if they want me dead, they will have to kill me.
I take six different medications everyday, these help keep me in control of my own behavior regardless of what my enemies may do to harass, follow, hunt stalk and kill me like prey.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

A poem by Gary G Pelow, I Am Trying

The fear and paranoia are back in full force, so is the nausea, abdominal pain, vomiting, lethargy, panic, shame guilt, physical pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches and chills and fever.
I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and I told her I was doing fine, that I have been doing fine for more than a month since I moved into my new apartment.
For more than a month I have not had vertigo, nausea, weakness, physical pain, paranoia but now its all back.
I am struggling to keep my work schedule everyday even though I feel miserable both physically and mentally.
I have run out of Seroquel and can not get the drug until tomorrow when I get paid.
I have to pay the rent tomorrow as well as the electric and cable Wi-Fi bills.  I am trying so hard, I feel horrible
Worst of all, I am afraid, terrified in fact, I think there are teenage hoodlums out there following me and watching me planning to kill me, I took out my cell phone and took pictures and video recording of these perps, I let them know that I took there pictures, not by talking to these thugs or confronting them, I just made it obvious I had them under watch.
I have many such photos on my phone of people following me and crowding me and hunting and stalking me to kill me.
I am keeping records, I may be wrong, it may be my paranoia, I do not know which anymore.
I am trying to keep my work schedules and meet my responsibilities in all of this physical pain, tiredness, fear, terror, worry and nausea and abdominal pain.
I hate this life.
I am trying.