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

 

Number 35

Like clockwork, she began the process.

Disciplines > Storytelling > Plots  

In the ground 

My mother is no fish 

She mused as she vomited

Bad curry into a 

Ten gallon bucket 

That swirled down into 

The tar pits of hell 


🖕🏽🤘🏼🖖🏼 Polti’s Situations > Recovery of a lost one 

        Recovery of a lost one, it begins, so casually run amok and offhandedly re-instated (with no regard for personal      

        experience and perception of the lost one. So be it.  And that was that.


👆🏻Previous: Remorse

But first the lost one must become lost – how  it casually runs amok for a predetermined time on-stage and just as careless as the fall, our lost sheep is offhandedly re-instated as personal example of some awful family event that permeated the DNA of immigrants who are everyone even chimps by the time you read this we have already lost our innocence now we wonder what all our vain attempts to keep the daydream alive were masked by lies 

Left
Intentionally

Long wooden


I’d like to propose a timeless timeline of a tv focused on Nixon 

Lying

Then Reagan 

Forgetting about Iran contra 

While letting hiv wreak havoc across the undesirables 

And the crack was released like hounds in the streets and on the pavement

And here we are

Fearing for our loves and lives 


        experience and perception erased 

         now supposedly not shell shocked 

         Keep smiling and say you are so grateful to be where? 

Home ?

Ah no

The American refugee 

Next: Loss of loved ones

 

Like Howard Cossell or Walter Cronkite NEXT

Loss of loved one 

So pedestrian a list

This is of loss

The theater more brutal than the scapel 

Deliverance

`The statistic

-it was harder and harder to not succumb to the depressing realization that she was reduced to an inaccurate amalgamation of prejudices and generations of resentment cultivated with spite. Incalculable doom for told her fate.

#positive

119

It was a secret

  • Kim Ung-Yong ” Korea 200
  • Leonardo da Vinci Universal Genius Italy 220
  • Lord Byron Poet & writer England 180
  • Ludwig van Beethoven Composer Germany 165infamous quotient

 

  1. http://shakespeare.mit.edu/2henryvi/2henryvi.4.9.html
  2. scene 1: exit
  3. end scene: enters stage left
  4. Screen Shot 2017-03-08 at 12.22.37 AM.pngScreen Shot 2017-03-08 at 12.39.51 AM.png Continue reading “119”

Sum of sun

Something anything but relentless sun burning new scars, from graffiti melting to backwards walker catchy tune to male you realize ten to fourteen days are at stake 

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.


img_2564

We strive to be remembered,our joys raise us to the state of consciousness most coveted by this race to be humanoid, and devoid of painful emotions.

img_2752

The absolute freedom to decide

whether wholesome living

without fearing holy retribution like Job

is really worth it.

Who sacrifices a thing anymore?


 

The see if desire to bed you comes through or dissipates dizzyingly dissolute, delineated cliches. But why not? It’s so mesmeriziby meaningless in the end.

🏁

If the super ego wins, the retribution begins

 

🌐 https://binged.it/2b3klUO 🌐 https://binged.it/2b3klUO

If the ego triumphs, the sublimation cause will go underground.

🌐 https://binged.it/2b3klUO

History on repeat


Less original composition

🎧;D=)=D>o<^_^;/O_O:O)🎹

Nothing much to say

Police code

The aspirin 7.5 pink Norco is hard to break through

🕳🕳🕳🕳

 

 

If it’s Tuesday, this must be bedlam 

gud
Dont axe me

Acrosst the aisle

A valaise for your malaise

Malaria Jones reporting live from Oliver Stone

The cock of gibralter

The dame of dunedin
I make quirks seem like quarks

Die nine lives

From bleach inhalation 

While battling parasites

Planted in my brain and 

Spinal column 

Cut the cord 

come as you were 

let’s wait and see about the “are”
you can call me zelda deserved jazz or tricky not black keyes kings of leon ugh

 can we just get a comprehensive list of sell-outs already?

Current project -“What I Didn’t Know” 

Non-fiction “How a President Gets Made”


[alternate: The Apprentice Effect or Making a President]

Patrons invited to discuss projects and rights.

The story is a gold mine.
#WIP or work-in-progress

Executive Producer 🎞🕹Show Runner📺freelance writer🖍fixer 

 

 | http://www.imuafilm.wordpress.com | Skype: katwalk65 | Los Angeles, CA
   
Schedule a time

Donate | Share on Facebook | Share on Twitter
Please consider the environment before you breathe

what i didnt know

you cant have it all

because we’ve been over the mountain top

In fact. We sliced it in half, sold the coal & scurried 

Home to our 

Castles 

Made of sand


| http://www.imuafilm.wordpress.com | | Los Angeles, CA
Daudealues daudelus dada less 

absurdity knows no cost 

 
   
Schedule a time

Donate | Share on Facebook | Share on Twitter

HIGHLIGHT
Last trip with Dad