MISSING: Chapter Un-Numbered (II)

MISSING

Chapter Not Yet Numbered (II)

...The greater issue, of course, is that because I know my few inner circle cards, I cannot love myself. There - I've created a game even I cannot beat; I am an incompetent loser at my own game, my own life.

Fatalism, self harm for preservation, destruction of others: I permit my sins because I know everyone else around me hides equal perversions (and they do, because I keep people around me who also house and hide perversion and vice). 

I permit my vices to disseminate; I am vainly in love with the person I have almost actually become. I almost believe that I may become the person I am pretending to be, if I just let this wretched personality exist and infest for a small time more.

I permit my vices to disseminate because I have to be beautiful - because beauty is the only worthwhile end I can actually find a way to achieve.

I permit my vices to disseminate because I am disgusted by my worthless life; external beauty is the only redeeming quality I have.

I wretch to think of the waste that my footprints on this Earth create.

I may very well be the world's most horrible contributor to The Human Footprint (http://wcs.org/humanfootprint/index.html). My contributions are so unimaginably wretched and destructive I deserve a death of stone or fire. 

I am not a witch, but I am a wretch and my society should put an end to me - because I am a harm to them, and a greater harm for their prolonged generations.

********

MISSING: Chapter Un-Numbered

MISSING

Chapter Not Yet Numbered

One late night below many layers of many years of dried vomit, she would somehow take a deep breath and write:

I have few things I keep protected very deeply within me, so I am fine with being more or less open with everything else.

Secret - I do not want to give up those few things for ANYTHING; my guarded secrets comprise my self, my core.

That's the key though - to get me all the way, you have to get me to reveal my sins, my vices, my fatale flaws. Or anyway, somehow you have to come to know them. But I am giving up the game now, so by the end of this story I will come out and tell you.

The reason the femme fatale is how she is - fatale - is this: she keeps a few secrets locked; she appears absolutely flawless; she strategically chooses her few flaws - her fatalities - and indulges in them enough to sustain her perfection (yes, all thing in life have balance - yin and yang). She indulges in secret, so no one knows she is with vice.

I have become to depend on my bestiality. I am horrible and wretched with sin, and my sins grow inside me - more horrible, more wretched, more strong, and more intense. Each day I protect them they grow; I am the portrait of Dorian Gray: my survival depends on my ability to conceal.

If I give up my vices, I will not be able to sustain perfection, but if I revealed my vices, I will be wretched to society, and who but a desperate pathetic, distaff could ever want or love me? Moreover, I could never settle for deficiency or impotency in love.

******

READ IN GROUPS OF WOMEN

Statistics show us that in literature, the books that sell best are those that capitalize on the tendency of women to yearn for bonds of sisterhood. The Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood stands as a bold example in history. 

As per the Rebecca Wells’ own account, the book began to take off after it became popular in women’s reading groups. Women would read the book and share their own stories, sprouting their own Sisterhoods of Divine Ya-Ya. Wells is able to tap into one of the most gold and glorious elixirs that the life of a woman has to offer: the bond(s) of sisterhood. Wells sells bonds in sisterhood, what stock would be more worthy to endorse? Herein lies the success of Wells’ book sales.

What about sisterhood do we find so appealing? What about the female youth do we want to buy, or “buy back?” What about the female youth is not present throughout the female life? What about the female adulthood do we despise as women? What about female adulthood do we yearn to break free of? What do we women wither under?

Moreover, what is the essence of a divine sisterhood worth? Wells’ commodification* net’s at $24.95, and according to sales, this is the right price. Explain to me the essence of a divine sisterhood – a fierce and frivolous bond – that can start a fervent craze among women’s book clubs, but that is worth perhaps no more than $24.95.

THAT is MISSING.

 

*Commodify: To turn into or treat as a commodity; to commercialize.

MISSING: Chapter 9

MISSING

Chapter 9: Der Schwer Gefasste Entschluss

 

The vomit. The bending forward. The implosion. The explosion. The vomit. The speckles on the under-rim of the toilet seat. The curly black pubic hair. The girls who fuck strangers with the toilet seat down. The cloud of toilet paper that protects the right hand. The toilet paper that pretends to protect her right hand. The door that pretends to shield the nasty secret. The storekeeper who pretends not to notice the scrawny girl using the bathroom and always continuing to use the bathroom. The co-peers and co-workers and co-others that pretend not to notice or who do not ask and do not care or do not notice. The sister who consumes the scars silently. The mother who angers and the father who fears. The parents who hesitate. The individual who hates herself.

 

***

MISSING: Chapter 8

MISSING

Chapter 8: Wenn Es Muss Sein!

She hates herself. She truly believes that she is unequal to everyone else. She is envious of everyone and everything. She would rather be the hairbrush of one of her classmates than to be herself. This perverse inclination towards self-hate and self-destruction defies almost all of the presumptions above.

If I hate myself than I am not equal to you. If I am not equal to you, then all individuals cannot be equal.

If I am unequal to all others, people will not like me as well as others.

If I am unequal to all others, but make an attempt to appear equal to all others, people will probably like me more than if I made no attempt to hide my inequality.

If I am unequal to all others, I will be inherently unlike, unfamiliar, and unattractive to all others, and people will feel uncomfortable around me.

If I am unequal to all others and unlike all others, then inherently I cannot affirm the self of all others completely. If I am unequal to all others, I can only affirm my self. People may inherently consider me selfish for affirming my self as opposed to their self.

People take offense to selfishness because it proposes that one individual is unequal to all others. People feel more comfortable with equality (see #4).

All people are egocentric. All people are rooted in the unique perspective of being their self. Aha! So if I am different, then by affirming my self I can affirm the part in all individuals that are different from all individuals.

There can be many truths.

What can be true for one person may not be true for another person; this is due to the power of perspective. The null hypothesis here concludes that what can be true for one person – I am unequal to all others – may not be true for another person. 

Herein lies the danger of drifting too far away from the mean perspective on individuality.

Altruism is egocentric and rooted in the perspective that all people are equal and that all people have equal probability of finding any fate. One person has a statistically equal chance of being any one person with any one fate. 

If any given fate that befalls one individual could just as easily befall onto another individual, AND if I believe that I am unequal to others, I may believe that I have a statistical bias for receiving a certain fate. 

If I am unequal to all others I can believe my fate to be unequal to all others'. If I am unequal to all others while all others are equal to everyone else, then I am an outsider. 

If I do not want to be an outsider, than this is unfair that I was born into a life in which despair is my situation. If I do not want to be unequal and yet I am unequal to all others – for better or worse – my situation will be despair.

If altruism is based on the assumption that all individuals are equal, and all individuals have a statistically equal chance of befalling one fate, then I have no reason to be altruistic to anyone but myself if my fate is lesser or worse or unequal to others'. 

In a given situation, I will allow myself to think, “Woe is me. I physically attract doom and ill will. Therefore I am best – and all are best – if I invest all of my efforts into myself only.

And thus one individual closes out all others, believing the own self to be unequal to all other selves. And all other selves are warranted to begrudge the individual who believes the specific individual self to be worthy of salvation from all other selves. 

All other individuals may continue to believe that all individuals are equal, and so all individuals will continue to be equal in 99% of all instances in the universe. Thus our individual who believes him or herself to be unequal of all others commits a fraudulence of universal proportions. 

The individual who believes it’s specific self to be unequal to all other individuals' creates a truth where no truth previously existed. 

The individual creates a truth from a different truth. 

The individual creates a lie. 

The individual is cosmically dishonest. 

The individual is sin, or is the individual misinterpreted?

***

Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor, Ph.D. writes of a schizophrenic brother, “I [want] to understand why I [can] take my dreams and connect them to reality and make my dreams come true. What [is] different about my brother’s brain such that he [cannot] connect his dreams to a common reality and they instead become delusions?” (My Stroke of Insight: A brain scientist’s personal journey, 2006, Viking Press, New York, NY).

MISSING: Chapter 7

MISSING
Chapter 7: Interlude

The main perspective in this story is based on the following assumptions:

1. People like you better when you meet their expectations
   
2. People like you better when you express agreement with them (even if you inwardly disagree).
   
3. People inherently like you better when you EXPRESS agreement with them, vs. if you agree with them but do not outwardly express your agreement.
   
4. People are attracted to likeness and familiarity. People feel more comfortable when they feel familiar.
   
5. People like you better when you affirm their self, including their opinions, statements, beliefs, fashions, styles, etc.
   
6. All people are egocentric. All people are rooted in the unique perspective of being their self.
   
7. There can be many truths. 
   
8. What can be true for one person may not be true for another person; this is due to the power of perspective.
   
9. The circumstance of one statement negating a second statement does not necessarily make either statement untrue.
   
10. All altruism is egocentric and rooted in the perspective that all people are equal and one person has a statistically equal chance of being any one person with any one fate. If all people are equal and have equal probability of finding any fate, then a fate that befalls on one individual could just as easily befall onto me, statistically. Therefore, I should help other individuals just as I would have them help me if I were the individual in need, in this situation.
    

MISSING: Chapter 6 (III)

MISSING
Chapter 6: Es muss sein (Pt. III)

In fifth grade at her new school the students have a play day at the local community center. The gym and pool areas are reserved for the students. The whole day is a field trip to the community center to swim and play. There are lunches in white paper bags with turkey, ham, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. There is a snack bar and they can buy Doritos if they bring 65 cents. She has a history of not eating the Cool Ranch Doritos. They used to be her favorite, but her Dad says they have monosodium glutamate in them. He says this can give people headaches, and he must be proud of her for not eating them. She is marvelously disciplined when she insists that she does not eat them, that they give her headaches. She sounds smart when she blames the monosodium glutamate. She can, however, have the Nacho Cheese kind. She read the ingredients list of both flavors of chips in homeroom. The Nacho Cheese kind has monosodium glutamate listed, but it is listed much farther down in the ingredients. “There is a very small amount,” she says; these do not give her headaches.

A bonfire portion of her heart revels in the opportunity to distinguish herself. Another flame ignites at the opportunity to choose between turkey, ham, or peanut butter and jelly. She chooses peanut butter and jelly. Or vegetable. She does not eat turkey or ham. She is proud of this. Her mother does not eat turkey or ham. Or meat. No meat. When she is about 9 her father orders Salmon on a mountain vacation. The area is known for its Salmon, and the father is excited to share this with his daughters. He will connect it to a lesson and take them to the fish hatchery on the drive home. The fish is prepared whole. It is cooked whole, and it is served with the head on. The eyeball, or at least the eye socket is visible. She does not want to eat the fish. The meat is pink and the fish smells funny. It looks scaly and the meat is pink. She does not want to eat the fish. The father in his loving manner encourages her with hints of “you-will-be-a-wimp-if-you-don’t,” and, “make-me-proud,” in his voice. He prepares a bite for her; the little sister dauntingly steps up and tries. “It’s good,” she says, “try it.”

The father prepares another bite. The fish smells. The meat is pink and silver-scaly. The meat is chewy. She runs outside and vomits on the lawn in front of the restaurant. A few vacationers sit in sun chairs and scoff at her production. She wipes her mouth. No one cares. No one comes. She goes back inside and the lodge is warm and scaly. It smells like must and musk and fish. She runs back outside and vomits. She is crying. She walks back inside and no one cares. Her sister tries another bite of fish. The father asks her if she wants another bite. She says she just threw up outside. Nothing happens. The father teases her that she didn’t even try the fish. Her father teases her that she didn’t like the eye. She continues to cry inside.
****

The next week she swears off meat. She is a vegetarian. Her mother tells her at dinner that if she is a vegetarian she cannot have fish sticks. A pause. The mother tells her some vegetarians don’t eat meat, but still eat fish. But she hates fish. Fish is the reason she is a vegetarian. She does not want fish sticks. And like that the benefits outweigh the risks. Everyone asks her, “don’t you miss meat ever?” After a few years she learns to entertain adults: “well once I was really really craving a bacon cheeseburger. It was so bad I swear I actually was looking around my house for change. I was ready to bike all the way to MacDonald’s!” her story ends there because she never did crave a bacon cheeseburger and she never did bike to MacDonald’s. However, this point in the story earns the approval she desires. Delight. She makes a mental note to remember to crave a bacon cheeseburger – or at least a cheeseburger – when she is at home sometime so she can at least look for change to bike to MacDonald’s.
***

She deserves this. She has earned this. Es muss sein! She always chooses the peanut butter and jelly or vegetarian sandwich lunch. A flicker of glee ignites and she subtly separates herself from the rest. “I don’t eat meat. I mean animals are nice, but I just don’t like how it tastes. I get sick when I eat it, because I am so sensitive. I am so special,” she explains happily.

The pool party play day at the community center is on a Thursday. She dreads it all week. Sometimes on Thursday mornings the father drives her to school; this Thursday is one of those mornings. She has privacy in her room during her time to get ready. She cannot get ready. Clothes do not jump out at her when she looks into the closet. She feels sick to her stomach. A grapefruit lump of dread pops up in her throat, and in her stomach, and in her heart. She cannot breathe. She is sick. She is sick! Es muss sein! She cannot go to the pool party play day. She is sick! She is sick! She won’t be missing any school. Her father is kind, and he will believe her since she will not be missing any school. She slumps and weakens her voice. She limps her face. She calls out “Dad” once or twice. The call is long but she yells it in a whisper. She trots downstairs. “Dad. I don’t feel well,” she says, “my stomach really hurts.” She holds her stomach with both hands.

Her forehead is not hot; her hands are not clammy. Most importantly, her eyes still shine in spite of themselves. This is a medical man. She is clearly not sick. The father says, “why don’t you lay don’t for a little bit and maybe you will feel better when it is time to go to school.”

She retreats upstairs and figures the time before she can trot back downstairs. “Dad. I still feel sick,” she says and holds her stomach with both hands. “I think I might throw up.”

“Naw,” he says. His voice is nice. There are hints of “come-on-now-be-honest,” “be-a-good-girl,” “it’s-okay-but-you’re-not-sick, come-on-now,” in his voice. “What’s wrong? Do you have a test? Do you want me to help you study?”

“I won’t even be missing anything,” she says. “We have a field trip at the community center all day,” she says, “so I can’t go to the nurse if I try to go and feel sick.”

“Oh-come-on-now,” he pulls her in. She cries.

“I have armpit hair and the kids will make fun of me,” she says. She is antsy and jumps up and down like she used to do when she had to go to the bathroom really bad.

He offers to teach her how to shave her underarms. She already knows how. Did she shave them this morning? She did. Well what’s the problem? “They’ll still know. No one else has any and they’ll see and make fun of me. Please, please don’t make me go.” Her speech is fast and she is pleading.
***