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There is a Star Trek episode in previous chapter. I mean one still not turned into a script. It would be sweet to find the good team to whom confide these pages. I am too much in danger. Real danger. I am often worry for my mental health, afraid to become crazy. You can't imagine. All these miracles, and not even a retweet. But what would the people do to me if only they could? Would they beat me to death, like that, in front the 3 kings, for no reason? I am going to cry? Survive? Make it? I believe so. I pray. Pray. Never forget to pray, dear reader. Do your prayers, and behave.
I have difficult weeks. I kiss hello my beautiful plant. I bless The Lord. I have the blues. I shouldn't. There is no reason. So I search for the smile again. In me. There is no other place. May God bless my Angel. I got so destroyed. They just don't need love. They already have it all. Even a huge TV and a sofa. That is the kind of questions I ask myself when I think too much. I am so dumb sometimes. Frustrated. Not even a retweet. I shouldn't get interested in this life. The one within is the interesting one. Let's accept this week. The rest is too dangerous. A nightmare. God only is enough, used to say Mother Holy-Teresa. Pray Saint Mary-Madeleine for her to make you contemplative again. You once were.
Saint Mary-Madeleine, make me contemplative again.
Saint Mary-Madeleine, make me love again.
Saint Mary-Madeleine, make me find God within again.
Saint Mary-Madeleine, make me love HIM again.
I was funnier yesterday. I am violent with the Sky today. That is not what they deserve: reproaches. Jail changes a man. It is a place that makes you sadist. You have to come back from that then. You need to clean yourself from all that darkness, or you surprise yourself with thoughts in which you curse people. You wish them bad things, instead of loving them, because that is what your business is. I am for sure pushed into craziness. Some psychiatrists must be surprised that I am not completely crazy. Struck by all these lightings as I am, I still have to stand my year, like every Benjamin. Don't finish into madness. Thank you.
Mami finished with Alzheimer, her brain losing size, literally melting in her skull like ice. Despise the appearances, it was doing good to her. God judges on love, not on intelligence or something else. It is very precise: on love.
The Spanish civilian war haunted her all her life, till her brain started to melt. She wasn't worry anymore. Spending the afternoon in her armchair, she would smile, and stay silent. It wasn't like that when we were kids. With my cousins, we would have to suddenly stay put, and perfectly silent, just because there was noise in the staircase. Steps. Someone. We hated that. It obliged us to wonder if there was some nazi behind the door, in the 70's, and even the 80's. What a stress. That silence always. It wasn't funny. She overcoat used to absolutely refuse to talk. Kids aren't really protected in cases like these. Man has the word. Man has the mouth down here. Man has to Talk, even silently if necessary, end of story. She had have PTSD since her cousin ended between her and a grenade. Horrid scene. No wonder she somehow couldn't forget it. Yet, when the disease left her unable to recognize us, she would still smile to me, always. They didn't told me when she died. They didn't wanted a miracle at the burial. They were afraid of it. Which is amazing. I see her right now; she is quite bright.
I told to Marina that mami had a "war psychosis". This is how I named what she had when I was a teenager. I wanted to heal her. It is done now. It wasn't at that time. I didn't knew how to do. I regret I didn't talked to her. I was too used to receive for unique order to do not talk. To make no noise. To stay put or be elsewhere, all my life long.
It never went meaner than that. But it was implacable. How many hours I spent, silent, obliged to listen to what one of them had to say? But again, not too often, just slowly, just gloomy. If it learn me something, it is to listen religiously. That is why I should have talk, it would have reassure her. I just didn't knew what to say I guess. She was cool anyway. Certainly reassured.
Every day after school, I was supposed to go to their shop, but on Tuesdays I would stay with them till Wednesday, after Marina would leave work. Best time ever. Since I would have no school next day, I would be authorized to watch the whole "Dernière séance". Usually an American movie, then the retro-news, a Tex Avery cartoon, and a second film to close the night. They also used to watch the midnight movie from the cinéclub, a black & white classic, American of course, most of time. I can say that I saw quite many movies from the past century. The best ones were literally shown to me. Papi wasn't alcoholic, and that is a quality.
The television was of course the most important and technologically advanced item of the household. And since papi was a specialists, we would always have a super good one. At papi's she would even have a little night-light installed on her back, because it is better to watch TV papi said: it tires less the eyes.
He became formidable when mami felt sick. A few before, he won at one of these lottery games on a ticket you must scratch. That reassured him for good. He even had to go to Paris since he had the 3 TV's, for the TV show. So he went with his two daughters, and came back with 4 or 8 thousands Francs, I don't remember precisely, each month for 8 years. A relief. It was quite satisfactory, even if the maximal amount winnable was 10 thousand’s during 10 years. He bought for them a second hand Ford Mondéo in excellent state. Something not disappointing for someone who knew this would be his last car. People don't know their chance when they are married to the right person and still are together, caring for each other, in the third age.
He absolutely refused to let her go, and took himself good care of her as long as it stayed possible. I guess that they took her to the hospital by the very end. But, years long, he faithfully sweat at home for her. Of course his daughters would help him, come to visit, fill the forms, maybe leave a tupperware in the fridge, and talk to the nurse. Them too they forgot who I am. But how could I blame them? I forgot myself to, till age 27, and he wrote here was born the King David on a paper he scotched to Marina's door at the maternity. Who I am used to scare them. If you want to know, it was taboo at home. They never told me. I just had the right to have that clue, and to listen to papi, every now and then, when there would be elections, or the President Mitterrand on TV, in brief, politics, and his atheism. He fought as an anarchist during the Spanish civilian war. I guess I gave up too early the idea of even just trying to explain anything to anyone. I should do it again!
I know practically nothing about what he did during that civilian war. I just remember that he dropped bombs by hand once; now that's old school avionics. My grandpa's... it's not that they are from another century, it's they are that other century. And it was the same with my grandma's. The distinction between them is that my paternal ones were 100% countryside, while my maternal's were urban ones that I always heard speak a perfect accent less French in spite of their Spaniard origin too.
In France I would only hear Castillano with mami. She liked to listen to the radio before to sleep. I liked that too. She wouldn't read me a story, but, she would take me in her bed for a while to listen to some radio station from Spain. I would't understand if it would be in Catalan, but It was still better than having of course to sleep, while something almost as exiting than TV was going on, voices still now running away from earth, flying in space. I remember that it used to blow my mind, to listen to the world like that through the low and medium frequency radio waves. It would became like a cathedral of imagination in my mind, all these voices from foreign countries. The voices of the night make me love it I guess. God the Holy-Spirit can make you understand all the species on earth. I am going to be heard talking in every tongue. Talk me about miracles.
Sad she didn't stopped herself from being cruel with me at the first opportunity. I don't recall how many few cents she refused to me when I needed them, but she was ain't afraid to throw me into an insolvable problem for a kid that age. Well, let's be honest, and say that I just didn't found how to solve it reasonably. The librarian refused the comics books I was re
turning because, in his humble opinion, I read them too rapidly. When one's borrow books for two weeks, one's do not bring them back the next day, voila. Mister would had have a few words to write on a paper. What a pain I guess. Maybe he had have a bad day, or maybe it was just to bother me, since you know, kids cannot defend themselves. It cut me so well from borrowing books that I never borrowed some of them again there. The guy make me a criminal without charges. I forgot the two weeks return limit, and brang them back a few days after. Or maybe I didn't forget, but refused to listen, in time, to the discrete voice of the Queen that we all hear. All I remember precisely is that I was now fined a few cents. A few cents that mami, the only solution I had refused to give me, because of course I had a good lesson to learn. So now I was stuck in the streets, between the library and mami's apartment, with the bags of comics in one hand, ands my not even ten years old dick in the other one. Good luck. I found no other solution than throwing them into a trash bin. Marina wasn't an option. She not the kind to tell you a bedtime story. To spare myself an endless sermon looked better to me. The French, this country, they just screwed me too well, too soon. Good luck to walk as it must be done, they say, in this country: with the dick in the hand.
Years long I have heard of these books. My reputation was done. I was definitively someone untrustworthy. She never forgot. When she received the fine for the missing books her world collapsed. It was clear now that she had give birth to a bad son. I am pretty sure that now that I didn't saw her in more than a decade, she would still try to make me guilty of her mental state. She might need a sleeping cure, because of me, of course. This time because we are done. Voila, I am the monster again; always. An object of mockery, which is even worst, just like I am one of disgust to Manuel. Alcohol kills societies.
I tried to offer her a drawing once. Big mistake. I never tried again. She likes too much to humiliate me. I should have run away when I was 15, like papi, and never look back. If you think that I am a good painter, well, it is not thank to her. Her and that English teacher we had a year as Art teacher stopped me right away, and for long, more than 30 years. That is why I have the technic of a 10 years old. I stopped there, and started again recently with Paper by 53 on iPad. I compensate the lack of technique with love and kindness. Gummy bears are the only thing I am able to draw win the aquarelle tool. Thank God there is a bear on the Californian flag, so I can say that I paint these little guys for the kids, which is not a shame. Pirouette, somersault, hop! Believe me, only God is good. Have a solid sense of humor, or you will only be able to whine foe the rest of your life. That drawing of Snoopy kissing that girl wasn't good enough for her. That was unexpected, even more than that gently suggested by an Angel surprise. I used tracing paper, so, it wasn't like I did it, and to dare say yes was even being despicable again, a little liar. That is all she saw in that gesture, almost some sort of arrogance, like if I was stupid enough to believe that everybody was going to see that it's not like if I really did it. I cannot even say that is alcohol, she prides herself for never drinking and she never smoke a cigaret. I don't hate her. I am just telling how it is, so you can compare with your life. And if you want to respect God, do not compare your pain to someone else's one. We all are HIS kids. HE loves us all, and HE loved us all first. Reproaches are out of the line. We got to love everybody, even our enemies, for they are our brothers and sisters. HE will dispense Justice. You can count on that and build your life with, day in day out, on this simple fact.
I guess her health is her excuse. All these drugs too; they literally curses her upstairs. The Sky tells her sometimes, but she won't listen. She depends too much on them since she was a kid. A story of bad health. She spent two full years in the hospital when she was very young. We children of the baby boomers have a better health for sure. No jobs, money or houses like them, but a better health, in general. She is afraid for her legs too sometimes. She has prosthetic femur made out of titanium since so long she had them replaced and all. She almost died several times. Operation tables often saw her. A not so nightmare, but still a nightmare, just survivable. God bless her. She tried plastic surgery to hide for the beach her endlessly long scars, it failed. The scars were now more visible, wide, and red, than before. An aesthetic catastrophe. What a bad luck. She almost sued, but gave up, accepting the fact that she should have haven't done this. I wish she would find peace, and God, like papi, at least before the end. I don't know what to say. As you can guess, it is not easy to say: hey, I am Neo, and I am on my way to save Zion. It is visible. You don't need to tell them. They find out by themselves. You have the alpha shades. Better make it a party.