i was on ecosophia’s website a couple weeks ago and came across a seemingly innocuous comment that broke me of the internet spell.
we’ve all been talking about the internet being over and i thought it’d be awhile. but everything happens so quickly now, my timing’s ALWAYS and always has been way off.
i’m retarded regarding the regular world but i can’t believe i made it to my late fifties as oblivious as i have been. instead of feeling like i’ve got a lot of catching up to do, i’ve decided to figure out how to set about creating a whole new private world of my own in the real.
when i was reading this innocuous comment on ecosophia, i remembered that new ideas toddle out into public to die where they’re bludgeoned to death.
i just realized why that innocuous comment broke me of the internet:
because it could’ve been made by a bot, some LLM creature, it was so… trite, smarmy, flippant, demeaning in a humorous way with acid flesh burning spit because the TONE is what has always killed my biggest dreams around most of my women friends who invariably end up saying:
“BUT ERIKA, WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”
and i’ve gone beyond even the wildest dreams they were squashing. and i realized we are in this culture taught to love like crabs so we won’t be left. so we say “you’re beautiful! you make me feel so alive different and wonderful and worthy of love! thus i love you back!”
later.
“where are you? i NEEEEEED you! you scare me when you’re not chained to the hot water heater with your legs crushed because I LOVE YOU!”
i have so much to say.
i am about to help build a new art underground in the REAL world and i need to avoid the trite bot-possible phatic but soul sucking and testicle-kicking patter of the internet from now on.
i’ve got about twenty years left on this planet according to the palm reader or card reader i went to in the ‘80s when i was in crisis runaway mode who foretold road trips with certain friends, and foretold of James, and then how long i’d live. i didn’t wanna know that—i was there because my friend brought me and I just wanted to know if i was going to make it to adulthood, if i had a future worth sticking around for—-and she’d just blurted it out and i wanted to cauterize it from my brain sometimes, but it’s enabled me to be more reckless than i otherwise would’ve had been if i were afraid of death as much as everyone else.
i don’t want to die or even suffer but i’ve been dying since i was 8 or 9 around the time i was also disinherited so i’m on my own.
but not really. we’re all really on our own and also not. not time for that tendril right now.
point is i’ve also noticed the internet is dying for others, and i’d bet it’s likely other folks from my generation: X.
so i’m proclaiming my own prediction and how i’m fixing to live my life, what and how i’m going to build what i’m up to next. my timing is always off and always has been but i go forward with an idea and have to be light with WHERE i feel God calls me to go.
and i’m going to set about building my own secret club kinda world i used to do when i was a kid.
first i need to come up with an excuse for the party, and i’ve been doing research on my situation here at 1379-83 Hampshire and am ultimately preparing for a libel case for stating that Lincoln Shaw, Citywide Property’s Carol & Bill Cosgrove, Julie Van and Andre Moreno, along with Helen “Simone” Bailey were involved in a harassment campaign against me in order to evict me, that led to them framing me for breaking into Simone’s apartment as i saw Andre Moreno crowbar off her lock, calling the cops who arrested and sent me to jail, leaving James alone for several days when he needed 24/7 care, which ended with James’ death. I hold them responsible for what evil they did and will use my powers as a writer to warn others of these tactics and murderous criminally insane people.
see why i’m preparing for a libel case? this is me holding back.
It’d gone on years but started anew when they found out James had cancer because I’d asked for handrails in the bathroom for him to use because all the cancer in his brain was making standing dangerous. all the research and the fresh bout of hell started after that. i see the emails and as i put the story together, i sometimes end up on the sofa curled up having tremors and the chills it’s all so diabolical creepy and why the entire world sucks now not just san francisco.
as an author i save all emails in and out and between mutiple accounts i have thousands of emails and it’s taken several months just to do basic word searches to put together the story i didn’t even NOTICE because i was too busy living life with James.
this isn’t just our story. it’s the story of why san francisco sucks and why i’m struggling with a huge amount of misogyny right now and think women very well may have ruined the world.
i’m angry because i went along. i see what came of my mother and sister and my sister got my mom’s millions and snorted at me for saying i’d look in camden nj if i was moving back east. she’s living in haddonfield because my mom bought her a house and she’s living off legally sodomizing the man who got her last-chance pregnant in her forties. instead of thanking him for the only son and person in her life (i know, poor shmuck), she gets 18 years of support but he can’t see his own kid.
my mother kept my sister close by because feminism means you need to club your daughter and chain her to you—even as you help other young women your daughters’ ages in their careers—- so someone can take care of you when you’re alone old after your fabulous LOOK AT ME! career.
where the hell is Camille Paglia at a time like NOW???
she caught hell for saying men created culture and civilization and it’s taken minutes for us to wipe it out.
yes yes yes… there are men who’re pussies, too. of course. Lincoln Shaw up in Diamond Heights on Mountain Spring Ave is a prime example of a “man” being a full on cunt. Lincoln Shaw shows how being a total fucking cunt isn’t just for women: it’s a smarmy underhanded bitchy psychopathically suicidal fuck-you TACTIC.
being cunty.
because i also hate the word (EVERY woman does), i’ll mostly say this is devouring little sister that i’ve been living through. WE’VE been living through.
it’s a subset of devouring mother. (see Simon Sheridan’s devouring mother book with snake around her feet or his blog.)
i’m learning a lot from the nascent and weird men’s movement. weird because men are private so they’re the ones doing Lysistrata.
(we got EVERYTHING wrong. that’s why i’m done with having any opinions anymore. they’ve all had one helluva neck-snapping reversal and i’m not any smarter, only more clueless than i was before.)
i have my story. i have MANY stories to help start a new underground with examples from my own raw material from LIFE, which i will draw and publish and have short movies (20 mins) series Kamala Lopez Joel Marshall will star and produce and we’ll make cool versions of the coats Kamala will be wearing in these films.
we’re going back to the beginning of our own little funky post-industrial chitlin circuit. read about oscar micheaux if you wanna get inspired. he did well touring race pictures he’d produced in the 1930s, going on the black entertainment circuit cross country.
now that the internet is really over, it’s boring and i’m already seeing the people the creatives and doers getting itchy and BORED because ain’t nothing on TV (internet) and after decades online are going back outside to play until the street lights come on.
that’s my prediction. that there will be a funky little cultural renaissance in the real that will be facilitated by the internet but the relationships the underground economy and networks that could spring up excite me.
some of us whether we want to or not have to use our talents to rebuild The Real.
that’s my job. my corner is back to funky club houses with the other neighborhood kids. we’d make our own worlds. i’d make tiny informative newspaper with scrap paper my mom kept a stack off in her home office and hand the one around.
i’m going back to that.
and i see it being successful even if i quit writing here on the internet for the most part.
that’s the other thing:
i don’t want to write online anymore. that comment i saw on ecosophia made me realize i’d written ALL THIS STUFF i was inspired about, and this one innocuous dismissive female downplaying tone of “WHO THE HELL DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?” meant all that energy was being wasted on …who?… i’m being undermined by people who live on their phones and i just …
lost complete interest like when a friend of mine found out the big shot man she was shtupping wasn’t gonna stop shagging boys even after being with her.
i got it.
so i’m letting the ones who dared to pre-buy my ENDCAT No. 1 know that i’m writing it NOW. i didn’t want to waste all this time flushing my own head in the cesspool memories of what Lincoln Shaw and Simone Bailey did so i have to turn it into something empowering creative.
that’s how i will win from a cunty putz who lives up in diamondy heights of boredom and craps on us down here in the burrito flats of The Mission district.
i’ve got a whole STORY and i’m going to name names and thus i’m preparing for any libel suits AND it’s also teaching me all about how my little sister elena lopez got me beaten as a little kid and i just thought it was stupid little sister stuff even though it was supposed to ruin my life with the beatings group homes foster situations and running away and nearly getting gang raped multiple times. the first time at 11 was the scariest.
but these little sisters have grown up and elena has financially strip mined the last two men she fucked, while going about life using words like miserable rebecca solnit’s “mansplaining.” maybe the first guy deserved it but they BOTH are assholes and are worse for the greed vindictiveness and assholery.
i’m glad i’m not regular normal people. i’m going to triple and quadruple down on my own world because no matter what anyone throws at me now, i’m LEARNING about what’s going on and why.
it’s a much bigger story than James me our adventures here in San Francisco before the likes of Lincoln Shaw offered to let everyone gang rape his hometown. i’m being SOOO good about what i write about these folks right now. still working on my future libel cases. i am courting them because i really want this stuff out to light.
i’m finally realizing how the little sister way is to be about the fake front persona and hide your asshole side.
asshole sides are my specialty.
but we’re in some feminized hell HR HOA that’s killed san francisco. i’ll explain later but YES, even “men” like Lincoln Shaw are consummate “little sisters.” it’s so pathetic i want to look away out of politeness even as they have no shame at tucking their testicles into their anal orifice and prance around like the “i’d fuck me” guy who made skin suits out of girls in the basement dancing to “goodbye horses.”
that’s how i see lincoln shaw and the book is forming.
my vengeance for James is not legal: i will write the song mocking and ridiculing these people’s legacy.
the story tellers win.
i’m already ahead because i had James and now Marvin Green makes me scream with half of him.
so the book (megazine) is still on just delayed and it will be something special because i intend for it to launch our new adventures with Kamala and Joel. Jeffrey Hicken said to write this into a book and i am.
i’ve done all the research. so i’ll have it for any libel suits that i welcome.
so the ENDCAT book is this story and it’s part of San Francisco’s story and also of America and the West.
—
i want to write for real on paper.
that comment on ecosophia reminded me the medium is the massage/message and as i carry charles hugh smith’s new “investing in revolution” book as well as george p. hansen’s “trickster and the paranormal” book around the apartment for weeks even though i’ve no time to READ as i write, i like the PAPER. i love carrying the book form around.
it reminds me of easter baskets of new pretty things i’d carry around, or christmas stocking gifts i’d carry in a container just to look at them.
and you have time to THINK and the words are not as disposable as they are online.
i love reading online. but i realized some write because now they’ve got subscriptions and the guilt of having nothing much to say anymore. another trap.
this is why i bite hands that feed me. i test MYSELF.
i think i’m an American Experiment and potential mistake. my life is all about seeing how far i can take this free to be you and me thing while making a living on my own talents and skills. i think if I’M smart enough i’ll figure it out.
i never figured on beloveds dying and criminally insane sociopathic little sisters taking over the world and making everything hell and hard.
my pitch in this lifetime is to fight back by ignoring them as much as i can in order to focus on not letting their deadening process kill you enervate you but energize you.
when i was staring at that innocuous testicle-searing comment, i felt depleted tired and like i can no longer be pearls before swine.
yes. i’m returning to being an asshole again. all this inclusivity of everyone being in on and crapping on nascent ideas being born is OVER.
so i’m going to mostly be writing in real life because i want MY ideas i spend my LIFE living trying out and paying the consequences for, i don’t want them g-spot ejaculated on by women being cute funny and familiar in a way that makes me feel like fuck it.
online depresses me. it’s all little sister bitch gossip and 50 year mortages on either side so i’m done and going outside to play even if i have to plant the fucking grass.
i am going to expect people to look up what they find interesting and i will rarely go to the trouble to link everything unless i’m doing business, which is what internet is best for.
it’s brutal for humanity as it’s always seemed like one big cauldron of wailing souls.
i’m glad that “person” on ecosophia (if they’re real…who knows? that’s why i QUIT. why squeeze your tits together for …bots???) i’m glad i saw that comment so i could be pushed back into building the kind of world i want to leave the younger art freaks. example for existing is enough.
but this is first for ME. my world. keeping the way James and i were very much alive in paying attention to the ones i can smell and inhale their armpits./ if i want.
so the book is still very much on and i’m doing all the research because it’s also the story of San Francisco and what happened.
i intend to hold all involved accountable. myself very much included. that’s the fun part because every time i have less to fear.
but i want to tour on trains and cars and have events where we sell books art posters tshirts at venues where people can watch Kamala movie star movies that inspire everyone to start or keep putting on events when we’re gone.
i want to build a circuit that exists that others will add to and build off of.
the world is ending as we know it. fortunes and futures are about to change in ways you hadn’t figured.
i know our richy rich people and governments are made up of the criminally insane but i know just how dangerous one defiantly relentlessly happy person dancing can make a normal control freak rich person snap.
i can’t change the mind of the normals. they will nod in conversation but have to live safe as they set it up in real life.
the HR/HOA people rule the earth and i have no idea how we let that happen. oh yeah, we were too busy ENJOYING LIFE.
i believe artists are the unofficial legislators of culture. i believe story is most important and magical as we live out our gods and the gods now suck.
i’m part of the artist class the pioneers the thinkers philosophers builders creatives and doers who’ll have to turn away go outside and play and take control of the wheel. Papa G reminds me the culture is bottom UP. not top DOWN.
so that’s why i’m not here that much anymore. i must venture into the legal/court world to understand how the little girl mindset has sabotaged all of humanity so she can get all the crap without realizing she’ll die. she’s Medea as a little girl. the one who murdered her kids to get back at Jason.
my own sister elena still runs circles around me with her sneaky weird contorted complicated little fucking games. that’s lincoln shaw. my landlord. if someone would just blow him he’d have something better to do but THIS is why the entire WORLD sucks.
people have too much free fucking time because they’re all landlords now. even the “nannies” with green cards upstairs, sandra and janiana pereira, are independently wealthy with new cars and california houses they rent out because they’re SUBLETTING rent control apartments.
and they accuse me a black Puerto Rican girl, of being “racist” because they’re brazilian nationals and i don’t think it’s cool to go to a country and hoard rent control apartments to get rich off renting us back to ourselves when you’ve already got houses in your original country.
everything is so crazy mean fuck you give me your shit now.
it’s all so nasty.
that’s why i have to understand why James stayed with me 26 years. now i get it. i used to try and push him out to have a woman who could give him a regular life and children.
i never listened when he explained how i had heart and how unusual that was.
fuck.
NOW i see.
and i have a world to build in the real. so i won’t be here much to ruminate, just to announce if i do a reading have a book appearance or new art.
i’ll try to share how it’s going. THAT’s worth writing about online for anyone else who is also struggling to start their own local scene or wants to connect with what we’re doing.
i learned a lot of this from my mom, my pops, kris kovick and being in san francisco when the lesbians ruled the world and were FUN and FUNNY in the 90s before we all became total strident cunts.
ugh.
i see why kris died around the turn of the century. she was already being hushed at her own backyard barbecues for being inappropriate. i thought such women really had nerve. little did we all know they’d make every where un fun.
Basul Parik admitted sheepishly that the gay bars used to have “NO DYKES” signs on their doors, as if i would scold them, but i howled and found myself automatically saying, “they knew then we ruin everything!”
i’ve been paying the consequences for being like this my entire life and at almost 60 i’m not fixing on stopping NOW. let’s see how far we can take this erika lopez thing.
the consequences are also too magical to quit just because i’m older and should behave safely. nah.
this post is to let you know now that the internet is officially really over as a “thing” regarding any new culture that will be built, i’m going to write for about 40 readers.
the ones who’ve pre-ordered my book are on this WITH me. not one has asked for their money back even though i’d offered.
my gratitude makes me wanna go tits out for the 40.
fuck everyone else.
(smile)
that’s the new me. or old me coming back.
things are about to become fun and interesting again. regardless of Lincoln Shaw and Julie Van and Sandra and Janiana Pereria trying to hump my leg and hold me down so i don’t fly but die.
i’m gonna write about them like a kitty cat playing with mice. as a funny writer i’ve got a ton of regrets about publishing screeds about real people who didn’t really have it coming like that. so now i have a ton of trip wires to keep me from likely regretting someone i publicly savaged.
for decades it was my former first real love, sandra may. i call her lady may in my books on her, i think. i ran into her on 24th street last year after not seeing her for quite a while. i’d been ashamed for the 26 years i was with James that i’d published full page cartoon stories about our relationship and how she did me.
but when i saw her SHE brought it up almost right away saying it’s actually the HIGHLIGHT of her life! she said she was famous and she went into wild side west and everyone was reading about her cheating on me and they all yelled at her. she LOVED the notoriety.
so that went well. / but i feel bad about busting on my mom’s girlfriend, cathy, in “flaming iguanas.” especially because she blew through all her money and was robbed by “friends” and ended up broke bitter and in a care facility run by a former business protegee.
i’m also still here even though everyone screams GO! RUN! because it’s San Francisco herself that won’t let me go. i would’ve stayed in philly if it hadn’t tried to hock me out of the back of its throat like a pubic hair. but i’m here now and it’s been a wonderful adventure and life so i must continue to serve and ask not what San Francisco can do for me when this town has made all of my wildest dreams come true, but now that the likes of Lincoln Shaw have made this place Mordor, what can I do to bring back the magic for San Francisco in a world that still thinks 50 year mortgages are the way to go.
Yeah. i’m all about American real estate being off limits to the likes of Blackstone and foreigner buyers and being rented back to us.
i don’t care what your “isms” are; our gods are all fucked up.
whatever. i can’t change the world. i’m just announcing i’m about to go about setting up my last big epic project before i leave this world.
GEN X NOT DONE:
the words i saw when i wanted to wander off to die in 2011 and be discovered dessiccated in a black knotted beehive wig with my eyes black holes from being plucked out but you can still see all my eyeliner on my corpse in a las vegas desert…
GEN X NOT DONE.
time to go outside and play til the final street lights never come back on for me….
kitten
x
