Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

I can see the kitchen floor!

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Share | Oh, what a treat: all the spilled and scattered stuff, in both the kitchen AND living/sleeping area, is cleaned, organized or thrown out! I can walk through the front of the trailer barefoot again. The cats love it and snooze with satisfied grins on their faces.

My parachute/trampoline tarp shade and privacy invention is working. I'll take some photos soon to post, with descriptions of how I did it. I have the coolest, quietest, shadiest spot in the park.

 I need real fencing around my lot. Yesterday, a scrap collector was at the park and I asked if he'd keep his eyes open for some fencing.

Weasel has developed the disturbing habit of just hopping out the door, first thing in the morning, and visiting around the neighborhood. Last Saturday, one of my neighbors drove him home from the flea market. I'd gone the previous weekend and bought them a hotdog with cheese. I guess he went back for more. I wrote his address on his butt with a sharpie.

The cats are getting bolder. Both boys go to the grass island in the center of the park, to drink from the bird pond and poop in a spot they've designated a litter box. The girls are inching closer to the island every day. I'm relieved to say Fatty Watty Kitty Catty is no longer spending all day, every day, hiding under the stool I use so Weasel can climb into the bed. She was badly traumatized by living in Hell and all the crap that happened. Yesterday, she was actually flirting and playing in my lot!

I still have the bathroom and back room to finish, but my neighbor loaned me his shop vacuum, so it's going pretty well. It's just hard to maneuver in such a small space. And all the squatting and stooping hurts a lot. But it's so worth it.

I almost know where everything is again. Things got scattered and disorganized for a few months, but it's not taking much to get everything back where it's supposed to be. I do just a bit at a time, every day, and am seeing great progress.

And it is SO NICE to get away from people who are always looking for opportunities to punish, to retaliate, to hurt. It was like living in a mine field: every innocent move, gesture or word from me could be a dangerous trap. I can't imagine living with a mind like that! They're still lurking my blog and trying to snoop on me. The main lies are: I'm a criminal; I'm mentally feeble; I'm a malingering leach; I'm irresponsible; I caused the fire;  I'm telling people a particular person is trying to kill me. See? I can NOT imagine living with a mind that thinks like that! And that kind of mind craves attention; they want an argument out of me, so they can keep screaming and accusing! It must be so painful, so frightening and so harsh, living like that.

I'm very grateful we escaped, mostly intact.

So, I'm planning to head to town today, to spend what's left of my money on some groceries and smokes. Then, I'll work on tidying up the trailer some more. 

Monday, June 27, 2011


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Share | This is New Mexico, the state SO responsible, compassionate and community-minded, it elected Martinez for cough governor.

So, I'm not really surprised to hear protests about any fireworks ban in the state. Why, it might mess up someone's fun, right?

This is the Pacheco fire, seen from behind a fireworks stand. Buy one, get one free!
 ...And here's Los Alamos Hospital today:
 People think this is entertaining? KOB actually posted on FaceBook today that they wanted us to post our "great shots" of the fires! Ghouls!

I just went through a fire. I think, I'm not sure, but I THINK  my inhaling smoke and steam while I screamed for help and hosed things down MIGHT have helped keep that fire from jumping the property line in the wind and engaging my neighbors' properties. It was the most gruesome, terrifying experience, as canisters of lighter fluid and camp stove gas, and aerosol cans began exploding right in my face.  I dropped the hose on the porch and ran around back.

Neighbors FINALLY heard my screams and ran from as far as half a mile away to help.

As the neighbors took over with the hoses, I ran around to the back door, felt to see if it was hot, then tried to go in to find the cat and to let water run on the floors. But I could feel, in the pitch black, a hovering cloud of heat that could have killed me, so I had to back out; the attic was engaged already. I closed the door, to not let oxygen in, and walked away. 

The cat was ok; he'd been outside. All my cats and dogs stayed inside my travel trailer. They were traumatized for some time; one still is. I haven't had enough time with my goats to help them transition. They were watching all night long.

So, no, I don't think any of this is funny. 

more stable

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The unnecessary hysteria and drama of the past 2 months really impacted my physical health in ways I could not have anticipated. For instance, my right leg seems now to be permanently, partially paralyzed, tingling and numb. I have lost a lot of strength in my hands, as well; simple tasks, like tightening bolts or pushing some buttons, are difficult for me now. My eyes hurt in sunlight all the time now; I HAVE to wear dark glasses outside, or I cannot see well enough not to be in danger. And the spots on my skin -- the ones a nurse practitioner indicated might be cancer -- are spreading.

So, I am working very hard, but carefully, to restore MY life MY way. The kitchen and bath room were badly tossed by the fools I PAID to move my trailer, for instance. I never got to finish unpacking at Cindi's, before I had to move to Hell, and never got to unpack there, either. Stuff got scattered and spilled; it was very difficult to cook for several months and even using the toilet was tricky.

Except for the floor, the kitchen is clean, organized and neat, the way it was originally. The bath room is a lot less cluttered (things were tossed from shelves and cabinets, etc) and is functional, on its way to being restored.

The people in Hell vandalized some of my stuff. All my functioning garden hoses were stabbed with a knife, right through. I know it was a knife because the slit on one side is smaller than that on the other, indicating the narrowing of the knife blade near the tip.

I know they didn't care whether my animals starved or died from lack of water; I couldn't get to them for more than three days. They also stuffed burnt clothing and feces inside the only access my cats had to go outside for water. One of my cats is still very traumatized and startles easily. Another arrived here with a HUGE abscess in his mouth I hadn't noticed in all the distraction; he's very thin because it hurt too much to eat. I researched antibiotics online. Turns out, one CAN purchase Amoxicillin without a prescription; it's for fish. But I didn't need it. Turns out, tetracycline is NOT contraindicated for either dogs or cats, as long as the dosage is correct, and I had some powdered from the feed store in Fort Sumner. I'm simply adding it to tuna and feeding. Anyway, he's a 20 year old cat, but he's coming back. I even caught him playing in the yard the other day. And he is eating just fine. I dosed everybody else, too, just in case, since 3 of 4 cats are very old and have bad teeth.

Someone VIOLENTLY vandalized the gates of the people who are boarding my goats and chickens. I have my suspicions; doesn't look like a teen prank, to me. It looks like a message: if you help Rogi, we'll mess you up.

A good number of things are lost and broken. The people who moved me treated it like hauling trash. I found my family photo albums, torn and scattered by the wind, on the highway. Some tools are damaged, etc.

I work and clean, repair and plan. It's pretty peaceful here, now that I've eliminated the aggressive, white men in this park from my life. I tried to form associations with them, but they act out in very aggressive, threatening, immature ways. I get the feeling a lot of white men out here are cowards and cover their insecurities by assuming threatening postures. It's a real sign of weakness and I want no part of weak people right now. So, I've eliminated them from my life.

The owner gave me permission to water a dead patch of lawn in the back, center section of the park. I watched it develop a haze of green and now I'm watching tufts and patches grow several inches tall. I built a bird pond, covered the picnic table with a cheap cloth to keep from getting splinters, and hung pots of flowers from a large tree. It's quite pleasant. And I know the growing, greening place is a metaphor for my own mind: it's healing and renewing.

I'm having fun meeting myself again, preparing nice meals, applying lotion and medication to my skin, grooming and dressing more properly again, listening to stimulating and diverse radio programming, watching a wide variety of films. I like who I am. I have good taste. Now that I'm not surrounded by shrieking, storming, addictive Jethros anymore, I'm getting to be in the REAL world again and am thoroughly enjoying it.

Friday, June 24, 2011


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I KNOW WHAT THE CHEST PAINS ARE! It's not a heart attack; it has something to do with swallowing. Both liquids and solids get stuck, just behind my sternum. It hurts like HELL! Makes it hard to breathe or move. Now, I just need to figure out why? This is something very new for me and has only been going on, to the best of my recollection, for about a month. Today, it's more pronounced than before. Bought a Coke in town today and kept saying, "Ow!" It's like when you swallow too big a bite, but I'm not. Just ate 2 hard boiled eggs and really hurt now.. hmm
delayed reaction anxiety/panic attacks. Never had before. Had to stuff every feeling I had, in order to survive this past month. My body is releasing it all now. I need to be very gentle with myself. I've already eliminated 2 neighbors in this RV park because they're verbally abusive, loud, threatening, impulsive, etc. Apparently, that sort of behavior is "normal" out here. One guy could have given me rides nearly every day to the next largest town, with better provisions. The other guy could have helped me set up my solar panel, for free electricity. Nope. They're not allowed in my life. Bastards with little dicks, screaming at a disabled, old woman in a house trailer? Yeah, you're a real man, alright. Stuff it, you posers!

gotta heal the anxiety. period.

clinic here sucks big time. It's anxiety, Scott. Try not to worry. My esophagus is just spasmodic. I have neurological issues with muscles, anyway, from the brain injuries. All the walking in heat, all the physical pain and stress of moving 3 times in a month, the poor diet, the lack of water, the lost sleep, etc. is just catching up with my poor beat up body. I'm resting a lot. I'm eating well. I've turned my little lot at the rv park into a combination playground and sanctuary. I've surrounded myself with color, sparkle, plants, splashing water, beautiful thing that hang in the trees, shade, good smells, shade, happiness, peace. It's safe here. My body didn't dare have a reaction until we were safe. Now, it's letting it all loose. The first day I was here, I slept all day in the damp lawn in front. People revved engines, worked on cars, etc. I just rolled over and went back to sleep with my 2 dogs. I'm VERY weak. I can't even tighten the nuts on my bike, which loosen from vibration, my hands are so weak. It takes two hands for me to press the button on my cigarette lighter. The guy at the tire shop tightened everything for me today for free. I'm going to bake him a peach cobbler, to pay him.

I also bought a LOT of beef today. I need heavy protein and iron. I'll be making burritos and tacos, cuz I have a LOT of both corn & flour tortillas frozen that I bought in Albq. this month for 2/$1.00. I have Vidalia onions: so sweet, you can eat them like apples. I have great Mexican & shredded cheeses and I'm going to cook pintos in my crock pot today. I'll make them with fried potatoes, for the potassium, and a bit of rice, cuz it compliments the protiens and amino acids in the beans. My only regret is that avacados & tomatoes are not inexpensive right now. I will heal. I'll take vitamin b12 for the cramping and I'll sleep as much and as often as I want. In about a month, I should be as good as new.2 minutes ago ·

Buffalo Draw Livestock

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Debris fields are piles of trash
 Note 3 abandoned trailers, piles of trash on bottom right of screen.

S'pose a Riot is Out of the Question by Ding Dong Denny O'Reilly.

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Thursday, June 23, 2011


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Lazy, stupid people in would be bored out of their minds here. See, they're not resourceful enough to discover how beautiful life is and they're certainly not going to invest the energy in finding out. They don't know how to think, read, write, question, investigate, heal or grow anything. They think that's the way life is. It's not. But they're stupid and lazy, so what can you expect? POSERS!

What they do instead is masturbate: self stimulate in the most infantile, embarrassing and usually disgusting ways they can think of. And, however over stimulated they are, because they're empty and needy, they always demand more. They masturbate with porn, with BDSM, with body "modifications (aka: self mutilation)," with drugs, with bible thumping, with guns, with buying genuine plastic garbage at Wal*Mart, with tv/ipod/cell phone/bad movies, with cheap and sickening foods, with violence, with cruelty. POSERS!
They just beat off, because they're too stupid and lazy to find out what love really is, what relationship means, how intimacy works. They only breed because they're too stupid and lazy to buy rubbers, and they sure don't have the integrity to keep it in their pants or keep their knees together. They dry hump, furiously, like toy poodles, against any warm object: self-stimulating, never relating, miserable, frustrated, craving, craving, craving and never satisfied. POSERS!

They think cruelty is a sport. They think bullying others proves they're smarter than their victims. How can betraying someone's trust "prove" how smart you are? You're not smart; you're a cheater, a coward, spineless, a parasite. It takes courage to have ethics, to protect the weak, to speak the truth, to not act out on every single impulse, fart and feeling in a moment. They're SO stupid, SO lazy, they actually believe Jesus didn't symbolize exactly the opposite of how they behave, yet damn near every one of them out here has a cross, a fish, a bumper sticker, a saint . . . POSERS! 

So, I'm in the land of the undead: zombies, not alive, slow, dessicated, repulsive, useless, ugly, mutilated, filthy, cold and only really dangerous if you can't think or move fast enough. They're easy to outrun, out think, out last. The only difference between the posers and zombies is posers breed, damn it. And their spawn are even stupider and lazier than the previous generation. POSERS!

And they follow me around town, around the internet. Their little, narrow lives are so small, they've never seen a human being who can play the flute, raise goats, bake a souffle, grow heirloom crops, produce radio, write a sonnet, talk with academics, understand astronomy and create and revel in beauty, all around her, all the time. They're drawn to me and terrified of me. Am I a witch? Am I mentally unstable? Am I even human? Maybe I'm a demon; they always abdicate their personal responsibility by blaming either g*d, satan, other fairy tails or every other human on Earth for their own laziness and stupidity, after all. POSERS! 

A whole Universe of wonder, beauty, joy and love is right in front of their noses and they will never see it. And they hate me because I can. Too bad, so sad. POSERS!

They're blowin' so much smoke, foolin' themselves, is it any wonder they can't see?

"The unexamined life is not worth living." Socrates

"The unlived life is not worth examining." Rogi 


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

the freezer caused the fire!

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NOTE: I wrote the following email to the landlady on May 26, 2011. I haven't spoken with the state's arson investigator since he got the lab results back, but in a previous telephone call, he suggested that the fire may have originated from a cigarette butt, placed in a trash barrel, near the wall where you see the most smoke damage. So, I sent the following email, which received no reply.

The state's arson investigator called me today, on his vacation, to let me know he's sure I'm not an arson suspect.

He's waiting for results of evidence testing,  but  believes the fire may have been caused by a lit cigarette in the barrel of trash I was collecting outside the bathroom window when I first moved in.

I know I wouldn't have thrown a cigarette butt there, as I'm to conscientious about fire and smoking and have a fire proof method of disposing of butts, on the opposite side of the porch.

The person who  caused the fire gave me a ride to and from Edgewood to go shopping on Sunday.

I don't know his name.  But, a member of the last group of volunteer firefighters, left with me until the investigator arrived, does know him. He is a heavy-set fire fighter who works with a clean up and construction business. He told me the man's name. He saw me hitch hiking on old 66 and saw the man pick me up.

Apparently, the cigarette and trash must have smoldered all night. I smelled something funny in the area of the weights by the front door, I thought, on Monday, as I was doing laundry.

Your mother was in the house later that day. After she left, I used the bathroom and the smell was stronger. It didn't smell like smoke; it smelled like chemicals. I thought, since Sue didn't mention it, it was either my imagination or some sort of cleaning products she was using.

I would have immediately contacted dispatch then, if I'd had any logical reason to suspect a fire, but I did not.

I lost a four hundred dollar washing machine, a $450 electric bicycle and about $300 worth of groceries.

I had some minor smoke damage, which I refused to have treated, because I wanted to stay with my property and animals to protect them.

I was the first responder, hosing the fire and screaming for help, which is how I inhaled smoke and steam.

I tried to save your cat.

If the trash, combustible liquids, weeds and sofa were not there, this would not have happened.

I did not destroy your house; I was trying to save it.

Nobody has asked about my health, welfare or needs. I now have no toilet, am coughing constantly and have no food. And the Sheriff's office has reported your property as dangerously substandard and unsafe, so I now have to move, on top of everything.

Take responsibility for your own lives and stop blaming me for your dysfunction.

I am actively seeking suitable housing and will vacate as soon as I am able.

it wasn't until the middle of the next month that I discovered this post on facebook and wrote:

They nearly killed all my animals...no food or water for over 3 days. They fenced in everything I owned. Daddy threatened me with a gun. They screamed at me. They shut off the water and electricity. They threatened and harassed me. They SLASHED MY GARDEN HOSES, so I couldn't water my animals.

It was their funky-arsed FREEZER that caused the fire, NOT ME! SHE is saying God did it. HE writes the freezer did it. IT IS THEIR RESPONSIBILITY and they are BLAMING ME AND GOD?????

bad words 

AND THEY'VE KNOW IT SINCE MAY 24!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

I know you're reading

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I have no money; there's no point in trying to beat a dead horse. I had no idea there were so many grandiose, paranoid, abusive hoarders in the East Mountains, but it seems to be a way of life. Leave me alone. Go watch tv. 


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I looked up membership lists for 2 goat societies today: pygmy and dairy. I emailed my flier and a blurb to anybody with an email address. and I put this ad on craigslist: http://albuquerque.craigslist.org/sha/2351536237.html there's a guy not far from here in Edgewood who responded. We're going to try to meet up on Saturday, after his finals.

I was up all night, researching. I was on the phone all day until about 4:45 (she should be home soon).

Spoke with the under sheriff, who says it's a civil matter and he won't just toss me off for trespassing or something. He says I've provided substantial evidence that we had a rental contract, even though I wasn't to pay rent until the 3rd of May. And he promises she can't just tow away my trailer, especially with me living in it. He was very respectful and sympathetic, considering he knows Cindi but not me. He understood what I told him about not asking her if we could "speak like adults," that that would just enrage her further.

Weasel has a giant tick on his back that's driving him nuts, so I have to go. More later.