Post Whatever You Are Thinking At This Very Moment

Not sorry I'm not Dreamy Neil or the "big stoney monolith of doom", Morrissey.
It's okay but I think we would all appreciate if you didn't do it again.
 
My book will be self published soon
I've worked on it all afternoon
In it I will draw on a lot of my own experiences and fears
Such as the dozens of men who stalked me for years
In shopping malls
And gas stations and all

I'm lucky I didn't encounter a Jack the Ripper
When I was a stripper
Twirling around my pole
Some guy out on parole
With an undone zipper
And malevolent soul

Did I ever mention the time I was chased to the top of CN tower
For what seemed like hours
By a man drunk on power

It was a long time ago
Maybe I saw it in a film or on a crime show
I don't really know
 
if you're objective even in the slightest than you can already see the outcomes of everything in advance and so have no need to actually live any of it.

It's a shame you can't have this same attitude towards your morrissey-solo posts. "I can already see the outcomes of everything I'll post in advance and so have no need to actually post any of it."
 
My book will be self published soon
I've worked on it all afternoon
In it I will draw on a lot of my own experiences and fears
Such as the dozens of men who stalked me for years
In shopping malls
And gas stations and all

I'm lucky I didn't encounter a Jack the Ripper
When I was a stripper
Twirling around my pole
Some guy out on parole
With an undone zipper
And malevolent soul

Did I ever mention the time I was chased to the top of CN tower
For what seemed like hours
By a man drunk on power

It was a long time ago
Maybe I saw it in a film or on a crime show
I don't really know
Wow, I'm impressed how you've captured the essence of what it was like being stalked. You've got my adrenaline going a trickle.
 
My book will be self published soon
I've worked on it all afternoon
In it I will draw on a lot of my own experiences and fears
Such as the dozens of men who stalked me for years
In shopping malls
And gas stations and all

I'm lucky I didn't encounter a Jack the Ripper
When I was a stripper
Twirling around my pole
Some guy out on parole
With an undone zipper
And malevolent soul

Did I ever mention the time I was chased to the top of CN tower
For what seemed like hours
By a man drunk on power

It was a long time ago
Maybe I saw it in a film or on a crime show
I don't really know
Being stalked to the extent I was
It's unlikely you'll ever know
But if you do, you'll understand how silent I am.
What a painful understanding
But scrape the barrel
Leave your DNA
 
My walking partner said he would read my book
Actually he said he would "give it a look"
I wasn't too impressed and accidentally walked into the dirt
I should try to be more alert
My new shoes are ruined and my ankles hurt
 

This is an adult forum. You embarrass all its members and bring the quality of the forum down when you post stuff like this. Cringe is not a strong enough word to describe what I'm guessing is the majority of our reactions. Urbanus is only encouraging you because he likes watching train wrecks and other things of highly questionable content.
 
This is an adult forum. You embarrass all its members and bring the quality of the forum down when you post stuff like this. Cringe is not a strong enough word to describe what I'm guessing is the majority of our reactions. Urbanus is only encouraging you because he likes watching train wrecks and other things of highly questionable content.
You embarrass me with your lack of faith in humanity.
 
I'm in a good mood today. No more weepy bunny (at least for now). I hope my literary muse doesn't go away. It was in full attendance when I was in the grip of emotional Sturm und drang.

Actually now that I think about it, I'm kind of sad my sadness went away--it was really good!! I hope it comes back.
 
CHAPTER 4 Mike

I stole a hat from Miracle Mart, and walked through Alexis Nihon plaza with it on. This kid, Mark, said "Cool hat!" I told him how I got it, and we both went into Miracle Mart to get him one. He acted mighty suspicious, which alerted the store detectives, and we were nabbed, and brought into separate offices for interrogation. They demanded I tell them my name. I did, but they didn't believe me. It went on and on, and finally I got this idea I would give them the last name of the boy I'd stolen the boots for, Danny. They were triumphant and smug, thinking they'd caught me lying and had forced the truth from me, and that now I'd be in trouble with my parents.

They had the police come get me then. They put me in a cell and phoned Danny's mum. In an hour, she showed up to claim her fake daughter. As soon as we left the station, I went back to Miracle Mart, took another large bag from behind a cash register, and filled it with every item that had been confiscated, and I walked out nonchalantly and headed to Danny's with his boots, my hat, and a pair of muk luks for me (booties covered in fake fur).

I didn't go straight to Danny's though. I met a guy called Mike, in Alexis Nihon Plaza. He was 16. I was 12, maybe 13 by this time. We went to a bar and I had a tequila sunrise. I sat there in my new hat with Mike who was trying to seduce me. We then went to his place, an apartment he shared with his gorgeous foster mum, Donna, and her cat. There he came on strong and succeeded in seducing me. Later I went to Danny's.

While I was living at Danny's with his mum and his two younger sisters, I did a break and enter, through a dilapidated back door to a house in Westmount. I pulled down a bookshelf in the kitchen because I got a bad vibe from what I perceived was the father, judging by his file cabinet. It seemed he was a single parent to a teenage daughter.

I took a fur rug, and some records, and brought them to Mike's place. Pretty soon, Danny's mother found out that I had a boyfriend, Mike, and I guess she took that to mean I'd rejected her son, so she turned against me, accusing me of calling her daughters retarded, and sitting on me. She was very obese.

Somehow, I lived with Mike, without Donna realizing it, or not minding the fact. Mike once kicked her cat clean across the living room, which doubled as his bedroom, and the cat wound up slamming against the wall. Another time, Mike beat on a kid named Darryl, who was submissive to both Mike and I. We did a nasty thing to Darryl. We talked him into stealing a roll of money his mother had saved, and spending it on a bus trip to Toronto, where I spent $200 of it on a pair of leather boots.

The police could smell us a mile away, and nabbed us, taking me into a room without Mike or Darryl, where they tried to make me admit that Mike was having sex with me, a minor. I refused to admit it, and they stole my boots.

Poor Darryl. One time, Mike put a powder into my coffee. It must have been something like PCP, because I was out walking with a few people, and planned on flying off the roof of Mike's apartment building when I got back there. In the meantime, I rushed to Darryl, and began to rough him up. I felt his jacket rip, and that snapped me out of my trance. I asked myself what the f*** I was doing, and immediately apologized to Darryl. I realized then that I wasn't in my right mind, and that flying off the roof was also a crazy idea.
 
CHAPTER 5
VANKLEEK HILL FOSTER HOME

Eventually I was placed in a foster home with Mike's foster mother's parents. They wooed me with talk of riding their stallion. After I said yes to living with them and moved in, and I asked to ride the horse, they told me to ride their donkey, Ali. They never did let me ride the horse.

Ali did not want to be ridden. He tried to rub me off against a fence. I was determined to ride him though, and made him take me into the small town and down the main street. The next time I tried to ride Ali, I mounted him, and the stallion kicked me off, square in the center of my chest. He didn't hurt me. He only forced me off Ali, onto the ground, on my butt. I sat there watching the two of them walk triumphantly away from me.

Lisa, the foster parents' youngest daughter, blamed me for a limp Ali developed. She was snobby toward me from the start. Eventually she told me that the reason she snubbed me was because I smoked. Their middle daughter Karen tried to be kind to me. She set me up for a few dates with a friend of hers. We went to a Dairy Queen, a drive in, and another time played cards at his house. I didn't have any feelings for him. I didn't hate him. I felt neutral about him. Later, in school, a girl called Cathy asked me permission to date him and I told her sure, go ahead. She was an avid soccer player.

I got invited to a Christmas party, and the foster parents had to drive me there and pick me up afterward. The girl who invited me was really open minded, and invited interesting outsiders. There was Steve, a fellow foster kid that I had a crush on. He was with his girlfriend, a French girl, but he told me to give him a kiss. So I did, a full on French kiss. Steve was stunned.

Facing the cold foster home atmosphere afterward, and school, where a certain boy always followed me around chastising me for god knows what, was too much of a contrast to the friendly vibe of the party. I could no longer stand the snobbery of Barb and Lisa, or the constant verbal abuse from the boy at school, so after getting off the school bus that morning, instead of heading into the school, I walked to the highway and hitchhiked back to Montreal.

Somehow I found my friend Mona, and she had another girl with her named Cathy. For some reason, Cathy disliked me from the start. We went to a room someone rented. There were four girls including me, and Cathy's boyfriend all staying there. There was a bathroom in the hall that we'd all cram into, us girls.

Someone brought me to a young man's apartment. He told me that I could go lay down on his bed and that he wouldn't bother me. I did, and he did bother me. He came up behind me and raped me. I saw him in a restaurant after that. He joined me. I left, disgusted. Because I'd been raped, I considered myself too dirty for Mike, who was in Shawbridge, a home for problem juveniles. I stopped calling him.
 
How frick does one write a memoir? It's turning out to be puzzling.
well i can tell you for sure that you've got to do more than just enumerate all the sexual and sadistic encounters you've had in your life. you've got to provide your own thoughts and insights beyond just "this persons a sadist, this persons a sadist, the world is full of sadists who want to have their way with you".
 
well i can tell you for sure that you've got to do more than just enumerate all the sexual and sadistic encounters you've had in your life. you've got to provide your own thoughts and insights beyond just "this persons a sadist, this persons a sadist, the world is full of sadists who want to have their way with you".
Yes that's a good idea. I'll include my "home spun philosophy".
 
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