my sisters: right

Page Fifteen

Tuesday 6 May 2008 Greenfield

Eight weeks today since the sheriff's guy came.

It was a gaggle of women who did this to us. Landlady, psycho-tenant, case manager, goon at CSS: a gaggle of women. Back in the 70's, in the heydey of our country's most recent women's movement, we were all encouraged to think of other women as our sisters, and some part of me has always held to that. You can have whatever you can have with men, but we women are sisters. It's only in the last 4 or 5 years that I've begun to realize how truly vicious most women are, given the right stimulus. And they are very often jealous, self-centered, phony, whiney, and aggressive.

My only true sisters were my female animals: Brainse the dog, Lizzie and Canajoharie the birds, and the female cats: Shiloh, Judah, Chailin, Chani. Shiloh, I'm told, was executed. Judah is in a foster home "somewhere," but if I don't find a home where I can have her by May 14, she is maybe executed too. And Chani and Chailin, last I was told, were hiding out in a priest's garage in Turners Falls, and I don't know what the hell became of them. These were my only sisters, and one of the last dreams I had left in life was to see each of my ageing animals to their natural deaths. DMH and CSS shattered that one.

Women, you are not my sisters. You are childish and insufferable and sneaky. My true sisters have been stolen, and all of them most likely killed...


Update 13 November 2009: The same, the same. The way I feel about women in general and the women who destroyed us in particular is the same. The way I feel about the female animals who were stolen from me is the same. And it remains true that all this time later, no one has told me what became of any of my animals except the three who were slaughtered at the animal "shelter." The posts I made in 2008 were all made in a state of very high anxiety, and anger, and grief, and confusion. The confusion was not endemic to me: it was caused by all the lies and half-truths people had told me, and by the things Matthew Lacoy had told me about my life.

I used my on-line journals last year to just dump whatever was bothering me the most at the moment, so that I could carry on with each insufferable day. This year I've been spending a lot of time providing details and contexts that I did not provide last year.

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