Consultation---7/16/98

Cassiel C. MacAvity


    Yo . . .

    Aaaannddd here's the rest . . . the occurrences of the last while, since the end of The Names, since there's been some weird shit that's occurred that ties into things Just a little too fucking well . . . as far as I can tell . . .

   

   

    I worked with Richard for a bit; it was he who requested that I write "Breeders". About the same time, through a mutual friend at the time, I ran across a woman named Donna Archibald, and her other two thirds, Louie and Dewey---er---Eric and Riley . . Donna's comments overall were "Oh, yes, We three Great Masters know All sorts of local pagans, but we don't associate with a lot of them, They're Too Slimy . . ."

    Richard's overall comments were that I that is all of my fragments were to be put back together, and of the trio, too many cooks etc., but more to the point, "The Opposition" would then step up the pressure, would lob off more psychic attacks, because of the help I was getting, the reasoning being "After what we've done to Sol, to Emily, to whomever, we're dead meat anyway, let's get some more kicks in before Sol gets his capabilities up." . . .

    Donna announced that something definitely was up, but research would have to be done to get the targeting done correctly, and Yes, she wanted to meet me, instead of just hearing things through the mutual friend, and routing things by phone. As a note, it was Donna and her other two who were the ones at the party who Just couldn't get it together . . .

   

    As Richard was still poking at things, and commenting that I was snapping all the pieces of me together Much faster than expected, Donna started to toss in her reactions and what she was picking up. . . . or what she Said she was picking up.

    At the top of the list, Yes, the Rapist is clearly in on the shit I've been getting hammered with, but doesn't quite have the capabilities she'd like to fantasize she has . . . Someone is backing her, giving her support, using her as a targeting mechanism to attack me, and there's a third person, someone behind the Rapist's backup . . . In essence, Emily's murder was just the Rapist's personal sideshow, I really Was to be the main course . . .

    Of the one behind the Rapist, Gee . . did the Rapist know any dumpy blonds, 'cause that's what Donna was picking up on . . And, the third person out, after the dumpy blond, is some guy who is or is associated with "Jonas".

    Then Donna read my online notes and;

    A) This that I wrote of was to be stopped, this was Wrong, I was being (psychically) Raped, this slime had to be tracked down and Destroyed!!!

    B) After meeting me face to face, . . .    The blond? Oh, that's Laurel---Yes, *That* Laurel.

   

    I took this new information off to Richard to see what his reaction would be, and his comment was a quite unhesitant "Yeah, Miss D. is probably right about the heavyweight attacker being Laurel" . . .

    As the work with Richard continued, there was a formal meeting with the trio. They announced that all and sundry Shall Be addressed. The attacks shall stop, that given the evident tie- ins that turn up with the Rapist, she'll Definitely wind up crippled at best, her backers will be fried, and this will be wrapped up in four months, by about the beginning of February '98.

    Somewhere in this, Richard moved from Petaluma to Santa Rosa . . . and during that move, fell fifteen feet and broke three ribs. Somewhere in this, the trio decided to meet to do an evening of work, and while they were getting together, Eric got premonitions of a train crash while riding Bart out to meet Donna, he and Donna were nearly sideswiped on the way to Donna's house, and Riley finally called in around 11 that night to announce that she blew a tire while doing sixty through Walnut Creek . . . .

    Time goes by . . Richard handed me off to an assistant, who was supposed to facilitate the internal repairs, and the external stuff Richard was going to take care of Himself, in time Very Definitively seeing that I finally became Very fully trained. I commented to Donna in the meanwhile that while things were shifting and had *generally* been quieter, none of the progress she promised seemed to be occurring, and the analogy finally appeared from her of my being a desert oasis with Three Years of footprints stacked up, and, Now, Which one of the tracks is it that matches the attacks?

    Time goes by . . . Donna announced that This Is War, and while it May be safe to talk to non-believers like the Jehovah's Witness and the wannabe cowboy at work, That Is All, No Other Pagan Types may Hear, No Word Must Get Back To the Rapist and Laurel . . . and then Donna cheerfully announced one day, "Oh, I talked to Adric the other day, and told him Eric and Riley and I were helping you, and what did he think of Laurel?"

    Time goes by . . . Around December or so, I started Limping, 'cause my right leg was being excruciatingly painful. Kaiser said it *Might* be sciatica and Richard and Donna announce Bullshit, it's attack related, no it's not coincidental that the emotional and headache type attacks petered off as the leg started to scream.

    Time goes by . . . the four months ended and the attacks continued and the leg still hurt . . . Richard started claiming that the leg pain and some of the rage can sometimes be a large chunk of personality that's screaming bloody murder, and it Seems external because it's external to me---the me that is what observes---even if it's not coming from the outside entirely. . . . Donna started trying to schedule another meeting of the trio and I, since the four months were up, and then announced that she'd finally found and gotten a reading off of Emily---not the sack of flesh that the Rapist created and used as a masturbation toy while claiming it was a fiance---*Emily*.

    Emily, it seems, is indeed alive, in the sense that she's floating in limbo---in short, she's just as dead as anyone else who's left a body with no way back, but in her case, until the rapist's private meat is finally dead, she will not be able to be reborn, and she is *Way* fucking worried about the damage that can be caused by the body she had to abandon. The analogy that was considered Quite workable is of a bomber pilot with a *Fully* loaded and fueled nuclear bomb carrying bomber who took off, got to cruising level with bombs that were live, armed, and ready to drop, and then had a fragmentation grenade or five tossed into the cockpit---Emily's choices were to eject or to be forever annihilated, and she bailed, and until that bomber comes down, all she can do is hang from the 'chute and hope not too many get killed when those bombs go off . . .

   

    The meeting with the trio finally occurred, about a month after all was supposed to become peaceful . . . . And the meeting was *weird* . . .

    Let'sss seeee . . ;

    They tried to claim that Emily was not murdered by the rapist. . . Yes, it was conceded that Emily was raped, and absolutely totally brutally raped at that, and, yes, by the rapist. However, in actually it was the rapist's kid sister Nedrah who screwed something up, and the still living Emily, this following being raped, mind you, blew up at her, very willingly and energetically ripped her a well deserved new asshole and only then "committed suicide" in remorse at "causing a scene" . . . This was the first time that I've heard *anyone* try and declare rape to be the effective equivalent of no more than maybe a stubbed toe or a mild case of indigestion . . .

    They tried to claim that Yes, there's Nothing to be done about the rapist, that she has to die of old age before karma kicks in, that . . . in effect, they tried to invalidate 2500 years of Buddhism, for one, declaring that karma is an unalterable occurrence that is Always SomeWhere Else, that when there is psychic and moral garbage strewn about the community that, yes, it is the responsibility of everyone to Not clean it up, to let it pile up, to let it Keep piling up, that requesting the long overdue presentation of the Rapist's head on a platter was just Not Done . . .

    They claimed that while I had indeed been absolutely and totally frying in absolute and total rage a few days before, it was Oh, One Of Those Things, that there were no external attacks, and, why Yes, they were going to claim victory . . .

    And, on the way back to Bart, I finally remembered to ask how the search beyond Laurel had gone, i.e. Ok, did Donna ever find Jonas? "Oh, I told you that Ages ago!" announced Donna . . . No You Didn't, you said Nothing of the sort . . . "Oh . . *You're* Jonas! Yes, All these attacks are just you blasting Laurel, who would blast the rapist, who would blast you, who would blast Laurel, who would blast the rapist . . . "

   

    Once I got all the pieces sorted out, I called Donna the next morning and ripped Her a new asshole. As I recall, the best she could say was "How Do You Know it's not what we say??!!! What Is It Then??!!!! . . . and all I could say was "I Don't Know" . . . but the pieces they suddenly had started to offer Just Did and Do *Not* add up . . .

    I haven't heard a word from them since then, and started to try getting feedback out of Richard . . . and there was no answering of phone, or voice mail, or email, following his own effective command of Keep In Touch. The assistant snarled that it was not his concern, he didn't keep track of Richard, and went equally silent when I pointed out that he was the one in touch with Richard, and as ordered by Richard, I Want Some Feedback!!!!!

   

   

    At Baycon, talking to Graeham, he commented that all this keeps reminding him of Something, but he can't remember what . . . and did I know I had two vertebrae out of place in the base of my spine? Someone's husband also took a look at me, and commented Ok, you've got two vertebrae out, and that pushing on a nerve is probably causing the leg pain, and there're muscles in the area of the vertebrae that are indeed locked up, and . . . and he added that there was also something Really Weird in there somewhere, but he was going to leave it at that . . .

   

    I've since been to a chiropractor who informed me that I have flat feet, which torques the bones, which torque the muscles, and the right leg simply blew out before the left. I got my lower back crunched and am now walking about on the reccomended shoe inserts, and am seeing how things go . . . So far, I think the leg is being better, things are healing . . .

   

    But there are Still times when I'll turn and walk somewhere, and out of nowhere, a pain will stab through the leg . . .

   

    And in the last few days, I've been getting near constant headaches as well. . . . . .

   
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© 1998 Cassiel C. MacAvity