The neighborhood has gone to hell. At 1.30 last night a group of drunk young people gathered around a white sedan and were whopping, screaming, shouting and carousing. They woke me up. After the few days I have had, I desperately need sleep. I felt so very unwell and weak yesterday, like my legs had gone from under me. My heart was thudding in my chest and I could barely stand up. Every time I went to move my head swam alarmingly. I gave up, went to bed at 10pm, and the Boy sat on the edge of my bed and showed me videos of cute cats and unwise people on youtube until I fell asleep cuddling Mau-Mau my support-cuddly-panda. I don’t even care that I have regressed to hugging pandas with my thumb in my mouth and my head under the covers. The Boy slept on the sofa. He has slept there since I was attacked. I sleep with the lights on, and a chair blocking the back door, just in case the person that threatened me with being raped, returns or sends a friend like they said they would. I do not sleep well.
I have been the victim of multiple rapes. I have no faith in any supposed recourse to the law anymore, if I had any in the first place. Besides, that is not the point. I am scared to within an inch of my life, especially considering the person returned. Allegedly the situation is dealt with, and the individual ‘relocated’. Allegedly.
I don’t just want some sleep, however fitful it might be, I NEED sleep. I need sleep like I need oxygen right now. My ribs hurt, but that is not really an issue. The issue is my fragile safety, my illusion of being unnoticed and flying under the radar has disappeared. I now feel exposed. I had to talk to members of the law enforcement community, and whilst at least one of them tried to be kind, the rest….nevermind…These people are not my friends and they mean me no good. I do not feel safe at all.
So when I was woken up, I very politely asked the group of youngsters if they could possibly quieten down. A young man gave me the finger and jeered at me, screaming up at me. I told him to shut the fuck up. I was shaking. My whole body convulsing in shudders. I felt like running and never stopping. I felt like running into the ocean, across the sands of time and into another reality. I was never going to get back to sleep any time soon. Me and the boy watched some more cat videos, and one of a very silly young man who tried to get a tire off a rim and hit himself in the testicles with the tire iron. I was amused. I was way too amused. I found it delicious that this man I didn’t know just ended his ended his entire career. Just as men like to tell women they ‘asked for it’, I am sure he and his exploded ball would be glad to hear I decided it was just the Goddess getting her own back for errant behavior and he asked for it in some way. I am not ashamed of myself in the slightest. Well, perhaps a bit. I don’t like being forced to stoop to their level. Must try harder.
I eventually fell back asleep at about 3am. At 5am the drunk man was back. He screamed words in some Asian language I don’t understand, and kept on shouting, screeching, wretching and screaming again. His honor was wounded and he was going to wake me the fuck up again. Little man with a complex making sure the bad woman who told him to shut the fuck up got woken up again. He screamed and screamed for over and hour. I took a photo of his license plate and his drunk self and went back to bed. I lay here listening to Patti Smith on my headphones so I didn’t disturb anyone else. “Your not human” she crooned into my ear. No I am not. I am a woman. I am Salome. Watch out! Beware! I wear the rings of Diana in my hair…
I was lying here cuddling MaoMao, the panda when I had a thought. I can’t quite remember what it was, but it was utterly brilliant. Some lines. A fragment of an idea for a poem. I stopped myself because I knew I had no energy with which to get up and write it down, and I didn’t want to use up the muse on nothing I could keep. Instead I started thinking about ‘political lesbianism’. You see the Gold Star bunch, who have never screwed a man are upset about those that label themselves lesbian in rejection of men and the patriarchy, instead of being inherently attracted to women. The problem there is that compulsory heterosexuality gets in the way of women realizing they are attracted to women and women only. Women are conditioned not to expect much or anything from sex. If it leaves us cold and disgusted, we are ‘frigid’, if it leaves us revolted and uneasy, it is our problem. It takes a while for some women to work it out, thanks to a lesbophobic society. These women might have come to the conclusion they are lesbian via the route of feminism, but the reality is, no women who is not at least bisexual is going to get off on licking pussy. No women who is not gay is going to get hot and bothered by the idea of doing delicious things with another woman. It just won’t happen. Straight women are not going to force themselves to do things which they find grotesque or that do not turn them on. In short, whatever it is labeled, whichever the route to the realization is, the reality is women who live women are lesbians, and should be welcomed and not shunned. Bisexual women who have no interest in fucking men, or whose sexuality moves towards lesbianism and away from men, should not be bullied by other women into the label ‘bisexual’. Labelling oneself bi leads to unicorn hunters and men thinking they have a chance. There is nothing worse than men thinking they have a chance and flirting with you if you do not do men.
Women should be allowed to choose which group of people they want to be open to dating and how they label their sexuality. If the purists who don’t care about the journey women take to realizing their sexuality want to exclude women who have fucked men along the way from their dating pool, that is fine, that is great. Good on them, but don’t tell other women what they are allowed to do.
Patti was still playing on loop when I woke up. She was singing about horses. I slept like a baby for a few hours at least. Thanks, Patti.
When the City goes to the dogs, I guess I have no choice but to go to the horses.
Poor San Francisco is a lovely City and I adore it. I love its fog, I love its hills, I love its history and its bars and bookshops and neighborhoods and diversity. I do not love the violence, the lawlessless and the centering of those who commit crime instead of those who seek to live in productive peace. Homeless people are not criminal. It should not be a crime to sleep rough. That does not mean that the City should let people behave in a way that risks others and doesn’t let them sleep or live in peace. The people who didn’t let me sleep last night were dressed beautifully and (drunk) driving expensive cars. They had lives and money for nights out and homes. They were disturbing the peace, risking peoples lives by drunk driving and behaving in a way which was disgusting. This should not be allowed to happen, but it is. We are overrun by anarchy and people who do not care about others, and it has made my life really unpleasant and dangerous. I am really, honestly sad.