Last Wednesday in March

March 29th, a Wednesday, idol march, marching tides of woe spread across the land and so..

 

With all that I have been through lately, not more than some, less than others, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst pain you have experienced, I guess being unconscious technically gives you a 9.7 or something because you don’t know it’s pain, it’s in and out of who you are and what they’re trying to take from you. In this case, my life.

img_9706

And that is the problem I face as I go through each day, with noises startling, except here, ironically, across from the UPS Delivery hub and near the brewery with its famous artist buttressing the 5 Freeway which always feels like it leads out of this place, whereas the others bury you right by the side of the road where they found you.

img_8991

It’s hard to have hope and faith when for the past 8 1/2  (one of my favorite Fellini movies) months, I have been consistently victimized by the system, which my frontier nature hates to say, I don’t believe in that, but it’s happened from a hostile neighbor to an illegally operating management company to the police themselves, twice now, once being tossed in jail for no reason and then treated as if I were some most wanted criminal because, quite simply, I was white. They will never say this or let it be told, everyone hates the dying race so much, they think it’s okay to be hating, berating and almost killing us – for the ‘sins of our fathers’ — they think it’s okay to destroy our lives, for no apparent reason, these are not people we even know, no crime of passion, no well-orchestrated specific reason to be brutalized over and over again except those of race and gender.)

The lawyer who committed slander, defamation of character, malicious intent and actually lied publicly in a harmful manner, deliberately trying to harm us by preventing us access to housing when we did nothing that she claims but because I was beaten and barely alive, could not do anything but try to recover for many many days and weeks and then someone lies and causes strife, illegally, a lawyer? Not such a great track record for our legal system from enforcement through supposed guardians of justice.

 The Sheriffs who detained us for picking up my own car because the tow yard is a chop shop about a mile from where I got beaten within an inch of my life, while trying to get a burger at McDonald’s. Who witnessed this? Why did the hospital then not call the police but told me they thought I was drunk so they just let me wait, and never questioned why my supposed husband never said he would be back or seemed to care if I actually woke up–somehow I did. I still have the stitches. The bruises are mostly gone. The head trauma, alas, will be with me longer, if not forever.

img_7081

The nerve damage done by LAPD and that first fiasco was permanent to my hands but this last beating and the hospital’s irresponsible treatment of me (all because I was unconscious — no one thought to consider that perhaps I was not drunk but had been harmed in some way maybe a car accident hit and run, as I thought, until we heard the recording of my call to my partner, which I still can’t bear to listen to, 6 weeks later…I cannot bear to hear it, it is too traumatic, still, overwhelming in the shadow of the past eight and a half months of consistent persecution — and for what reason? Who knows, if there even is one. Those who blame the victim always seek to find a way to plant their evidence on you, to keep their corrupt privilege operating without you in the way, or they just beat a woman almost to death in a parking lot for no apparent reason).

This is the first I have written of this publicly and some of you know or I tried to tell but you simply didn’t believe me or thought oh there she goes again, I seem to have the worst luck, maybe or you have already written me off for my freelance career and struggles to survive in a world that just was not ready for me. I was certainly ready to make my mark, a positive one, to live in peace and contribute positively to this world. That is all I seek and have ever sought. I don’t know how far I will get in that path as I am overwhelmed and exhausted each day, “just not the same” those around me notice, and for that I am pained, mentally, knowing ‘what has happened to me…’

To reiterate: around the third week of February the night before checking out of a very strange airbnb experience, I was severely beaten in a McDonald’s parking lot in the early evening hours and taken to White Memorial Hospital, who broke protocol at every turn, never even reporting my near-fatal ‘accident’ (accidental beating???) to the police, which is actually the law.

img_8550

I am invisible (adoptees know that), and expendable (the ‘film and television industry’ taught me that, after working with the most unloyal f-%$s you can imagine, and very few ‘friends,’ who actually have a soul in this town, I realized way too late) but now I feel destructible, worn-down, beaten up, tired, sad, soul-tired, suicidal on occasions but from existential nihilism more than any other specific, so don’t worry, I never do it, I love life and butterflies and the earth way too much, and I am just now trying to recover.

Please be kind. Please if you know me don’t use my honesty against me. I am just a human, trying to survive after someone speaking spanish probably two men, it sounded nicaraguan, beat me within an inch of my life near my car, which was impounded for $ 1,395 (all tow yards in Los Angeles say we were fleeced) and they called the sheriffs, who of course illegally searched us, what else do they do?

 

I suppose this is my statement since no police officer has ever asked. I have yet to see a judge. My case is a rare form known as a wobbler. Murderers and rapists are given the right to swift hearing but not the victim of police brutality.  This is the story of the past eight and a half months of my life, since last July.

 

Namaste, be well, my nerves are telling me to quit, the nerves in my hands, always from numb to pain now thanks to LAPD RAMPART back in July 2016.

 

Katherine E. Walker

born 1965 Cleveland, Ohio adopted 6 weeks later, my birthname we think is Turner

 

#Was it truly 

after all

A little chilly 

before the thaw 

  • She called 
  • He answered



This was 

just 

there.


the way 

it was 

As you were 

far away 

by the tine 

We showed up

Interactive narrative toss send off story 

A girl and a boy

Begin 

The poem 

a prelude 

mྂoྂrྂeྂ from Ojai, oh!

Then, shots were fired…

Four dead in Ohio

Matthew Matthews  takes a couple of steps forward in a nonaggressive manner, but that’s not what Roland sees.


Memories of Elephants

at some point
don’t you wake up
somehow
and
decide
NOT TO BE EVIL
or do you
look in the
mirror
and realize
that
what
looks
back
at
you
is
dark
and
hollow

 

 

 

 

artwork by robert montgomery at robertmontgomery.org

 

9 muses 9 lines

9 muses 

Epic poetry – Poet laureate – as if maya Angelou read the song of myself   But As everyone together imagine-

Music – Lyric poetry – voice of angels

Healing arts – dynamic  exchange, science quantum physics

All-encompassing  species survival

Painting – Sculpture – Film and Photography

Performance Dance  theater installation

Storytelling – cave painting – chronicles of humanity

public architecture – collective space

Tragedy and Comedy actors writers giving experience meaning

muse of collaboration  directors and conductors  🙌🏼 Those who fuse the ones who lead  living energy

creativity as  not just talent or   none At all

the final

the muse of alchemy

 

in 9 sec

 

 

anesthetize don’t agonize


And so

It was

With great

Abandon that

She ruled

The world

 



where chaos unfolds

It’s hard to know why you live


III – THE end painting “OBEY”

Through lines 

Look at how the chaos comes together 

only stepping back from the drawing 

made of lines of sketches 

can you see the monster 

guiding the hand of the drawer,

The one who draws to avoid

having to use words.
Words have failed me. They are not the truth. I was not allowed to speak the truth. When I finally did, I was punished harshly. 
This is the way it is.

And this is who surrounds you.

Republican opposition derives from a philosophical resistance to being compelled to do anything that benefits others.

And yet they call themselves Christians

Followers of the man who said love one another

Who was homeless
I now know what a cultural species-wide blindspot is.

The existence of hypocrisy came before it was named which means the consciousness came first, the awareness of the ability of the human sentient being system that we describe, stupidly, as “heart and mind” (sorry, your heart pumps blood, it’s not making decisions, that would be your loins), not to mention the debate about the “soul,” which Descartes believes existed in the spleen, to lie to itself.
I am 50 years old, a woman who has been living in a repeated cycle of emotional trauma for the past 46 years. I cannot find work, after devoting my life to my career. I am adopted and have no knowledge of any birth relatives. I am alone in this world in a way few of you can imagine as the most heart-breaking event of my life is that I did not have children. No one will care when I die. That is what you realize when you were adopted and people lie to you saying it’s the same as blood, but it’s not. 

Helping others 

Wouldn’t that be nice 

There is a want, there is a need 

Always 

for that is what it is to be alive, here, in this absolute 

secondary moment 

Why ask yourself what makes my heart sing?

  • intensely meaningful 
  • core to your being 
  • essence of your identity
  • what I think about – is telling this story, whatever story I am engrossed in – and what I think about at the end of the day is how tomorrow is going to be so much better and I will miraculously right all my wrongs and balance all my spreadsheets, PowerPoint presentations with not one typo kind of day it will be…
  • or not. But it will be a day when we say to our only god, death: not today. That’s my favorite simple mantra to tell whoever’s listening – again I say there is no clear definition of who’s in charge, so I’m going with Game of Thrones mythology – the warrior’s god is death and you say NOT TODAY. Little girl with her wooden sword escaping certain death – repeating, as little girls do, over and over as she runs-not today.
  • the best feeling in the world is when you can’t wait to get up in the morning 
  • the ‘right path’ is a dead end for people like me. But that’s not a bad thing. It’s just no one’s cut a road so you just go, and it’s not always noteworthy but it’s defining your process which is one piece of the puzzle when committing to some form of creative ‘career,’ as in ain’t gonna happen better keep that day job your IT background sure is gonna come in handy when no one buys your paintings…

   

Rauschenberg