It's been almost impossible to try and write to you because of the bitterness any recall elicits, none of which I want to record. The distrust you've made an effort to ameliorate and that in its measure has worked, in that I am writing at all. It helps the situation immeasurably that you admitted you'd done wrong. However apology is not valid if your approach is to maintain your sin of omission (silence) and maintain my isolation (what you've done for twenty-one years). Even this letter is an obstacle in the sense of all the other things I put it ahead of that I could be doing right now, using a prospect that is in all likelihood a useless attempt and a waste of time. But for a long time I have wanted to give you the finished first draft of my book. I tried to give it to Andy to give to you, December 2015. He could have, but he broke his promise, so here we are. Without any further ado, here is the book. I'm asking you, requesting, begging, anything that would work to get you to please react differently to it this time, as in something concrete my mother or an agent or a publisher would care about. All you have been to me is an obstacle, though the fact that I feel you just granted the most important moment to me in my life does help. (Chris Martin's letter down below explains it.)
How are you this insurmountable impasse? When the passage relates I finally spoke to an agent about my book, including the fact that you have songwritten about it (WPC has additionally songwritten about what happened in it) she said no publisher's going to care unless I have written attestation to that effect from (both of) you. Absent that sort of attestation, you literally prevent me from making a living the way I chose to. That is the least of personal damage/consequence caused.
So I'm trying to give myself a way past your indifference to my circumstance (that your silence has forced this route just pisses me off even more). On the other hand it's a point of celebration that this is even possible. I say it's throwing into relief the hand of God. Though it is indeed possible, this event will probably drop through the internets like a stone without a ripple. Everyone will probably prove to be just like you. (You've given them a sample of tact, who's going to broach it?) Basically I'm emailing people who are bound to care even less then you do, (after all, the latest addressees weren't directly involved), and that's if it even reaches them. The ones who were directly involved are probably going to behave just like you. (It's been nearly a year now, so looks like it.) Not even my mother believes me. I am stuck with that situation for life with everyone around me including my children, and that, as far as I'm concerned is down to you. "Miserere" is exactly what you did to me. You bereaved me of any evidence.
"I am the saint who betrayed you
On the upside, I am giving you the demonstration I have never shown you and that is fair. Maybe you need the evidence too. Maybe you need to see transcendence is really transcendent, and that is what I have to apprehend before you'll move a muscle. Maybe you need to know what happened in the end. I never gave you this demonstration twenty one years ago. I only did it with WPC.
This is a little exercise that transcends what you both have done to me and how you both treated me. Someone cares; it's not you. But we are in a patriarchal world that only sees what it wants to, so good luck there. (Your own God could appear and you'd yawn.) So, I engage in my exercise in futility so I can at least say I tried my best, and at least demonstrate I am not like you. I'm sort of obliged to not come out a hypocrite. Maybe hopefully this is a way that doesn't rely on you. I really ought to be able to grant you that. Maybe there's Divine intervention, which is why I'm still talking at all. Maybe all will be proven and revealed without you saying a word. But really, how's them odds? The submit page in this instance doesn't even accept urls. You force me to stand alone and defend myself adequately with both arms tied behind my back. What am I going to say to you if we ever encounter each other again? "Thanks for caring" -?
In September 2021 I finally noticed you are writing your autobiography (probably done already, which makes me remiss), which is what prompted me to even attempt this, because with an autobiography you wouldn't have to deal with me in any way, you could just write the truth and that would do it. You could just tell the truth that you wrote "Book of Your Heart" about my book and why you did it. And that would rectify everything. It might even give me my book. (Songs aren't enough. But it would work if you credited your inspiration.) You still have a chance to do the right thing. (And if you don't think that's the right thing, you ought to clarify why not.)
Who else have I written to? Martin Gore, Michael Stipe, Nick Cave, Chris Martin, Russell Brand. April 2019 I dropped a letter in the form of a flash drive on Jack White, hand to hand. I'm a real live sucker, falling for an eclipse and thinking you might just might be signalling something actionable with everything you've actively concealed, after all it was the day (before) my birthday. Chris Martin's accidentally done my birthday too, but he doesn't know who I am on this earth because of you. These are the sorts of active potentials you actively destroy in the present with nothing but silence. It is not fair of you to do this to me or him. Your considered "what if" damages are already potentially pretty high though you never cared enough to want to know or consider beyond your own interest in all this. (Prospectively meeting David Bowie in the afterlife might also prove pretty prickly for you.)
Do I think meeting Chris is a good idea? No, I have no idea, in the sense that I've been through this once before and discovered it was only the Transcendent doing the talking, but in this instance, guess what that might mean? But it's the first time in twenty-one years that it appears that anyone has wanted to meet me, unlike you or WPC, who actually said so after I resumed direct messaging him, but then of course backed out. This makes him the first person to have ever cared. At least we should be granted that prospect, don't you think? Do I like the album? Not as much as I would like to, apart from 2/3 single releases, but I appreciate the thought infinitely, as in at least Someone cares! It is very moving.
The point is we never get to find out anything because Chris Martin never gets to find out, and that's because of you. That's not a "what if" robbery you want to be responsible for out of omission. It's because the only way you're prepared to name me (and I know that's what you did), is in the act of hiding it so far not even my own mother believes it. (Thanks for nothing for twenty-one years.) BUT AT LEAST YOU DID IT; -it could only have been you and you did it, and it meant the universe to me!!! In thanks for that, I can at least show you what I'm attempting to do now. Chances like these are twenty years rare. God has granted me this chance. I can share it with you at least.
Martin Gore gives me hope because of who he is, but so far the signaling (if there is any) is just like yours, meaning it's no help at all. You don't come off well in what I relate to Martin, but I needed a place to at least be able relate it, and just being able to seems to have fixed a lot. I don't intend any disclosure anywhere else. It will hurt you to read your culpability, so consider that letter your choice if you want to open, or not. But at least you'll know what the price was and that will be alleviation in terms of granting some understanding. I'm giving it to you because it explains the part of the story you never knew about, the part that shows a higher power was acting to preserve this past you and me. It explains how I was brought back (again), despite what transpired between me and you. And I think you really ought to know that. (Try, if you can, to think of it as a gift, my gift to you.) Curiously this album fits the context of the letter Martin received almost 100%. What's even more curious is it would do that whether David Gahan happened to be aware of Martin's letter or not, which is precisely the limbo you abandoned me to after I personally met you in 1999. (Jack's latest release really fits too, (it's his first piece of songwriting after he received his letter), but it's a reply back (of sorts) from the Transcendent level, not his level.) Things go good when they get opened up (the letters), the truth is revealed/told. Try it, you might like it!
As per the writ to Martin I revised into a public field with this presentation, I hope I finally learned my lesson. I hope I don't get hurt immeasurably this time 'round, though based on history you really don't care if I do. I really hope this matters enough to you to rectify this time 'round. You have the power to do so. Yours is still the most important letter I have to write.
PS: This is what's going on just with the selection of covers David Gahan chose to put out with The Imposter this November, after Martin Gore received my letter ten months ago. As with you and our personal encounter in 1999, it's neither here nor there in that I can't tell if it's designed to respond to the letter this intimately deliberately, or because this is the self same situation just continuing, meaning it's happening becaues it's always been this close inspirationally, which is exactly what's going on with the one, two of NIck Cave's GHOSTEEN followed by CARNAGE (he did announce the tangible release would be on my birthday, the only possible signifier). But here's what's going on:
"I can't talk about this album either, which is so potentially personal as per the letter Martin Gore received it's scary, but with Depeche Mode that's mainly in a good way. (It's not too hard to shoot fish in a barrel when it comes to searching song titles when you know they are all covers.) Based on those inferences he read the letter, knows my dark past, my fears, knows when I was born (more or less, likes my "religion", knows how I got my heart broken, -he used his covers to relate as part of a secret two year online tete-a-tete), knows about dear dad, homemade sangria, that the colour purple had a passage (both Cave albums, plus recruiting Cave's back up singers, after I informed MG the letter had been forwarded to Cave); -knows that the book for me is an incredibly difficult dilemma (put here as won't solve it), gave a touche retort about my job (but nicely), plus elements that are too private to tell you, but if you ever read that letter you'd know); -welcome to the "The Desperate Kingdom of Love". David and Martin are sort of inextricably joined at the hip, or I wouldn't be considering it. But if things proceed to where I'm demonstrably right about Nick Cave, and Martin Gore now possibly too, that means I've succeeded with every one of the paragon musicians I contacted/ever wrote to personally. That's 4/4, topermost of the poppermost, which is wow.”
Sent Tears for Fears post November 1st.
Sent Coldplay Music of the Spheres update November 18th
Sent Jack White update November 22nd
Sent Your Song Saved My Life update November 27
Well Good Morning.
I don't know if the text number is real, as in operable or reachable, but it seems you're attempting a modicum of engagement given the date of your latest release, so I am trying back. We're at your entry so I'd like to comment on it to you personally.
Yes I got woken up last year (actually it took about 9 months from October 2019 to July 2020, and it was because of two artists, Nick Cave and Martin Gore). Thank God I sent the record of that to you two days before you made this release, since that shows it's not contrived, though as stated it was actually mailed December 2020 and was finished then. That is why I relayed Martin Gore's letter to you on November 1st. It is the full explanation of how that happened, how I got woken up. However I've done a "easy" and a "hard" version. So the one that gives the full background on how I was broken and how that in turn broke you is Martin Gore's version. The full explanation I can't talk about. The easy version is the one I made palatable at the level of public consumption. It has no background. Making that presentable took me a long time, but then I'm a working single mom (who acquired a kitten rescue last May, and then in July I got Covid, and then thanks to Trent Reznor I had to recalibrate the entire thing in August).
Not that there's any point to trying. I mean if I'm judging this in terms of how much it's mattered to anyone I've addressed so far, especially yours truly, if I judge it in terms of the reactions of the recipients then it doesn't matter at all. (An eighteen year delayed response that not even my mother recognizes is way down the totem pole of priority; -that's all both of you were capable of.) I don't expect it to matter personally. What I do expect is along the same lines I pleaded with Martin, that he wouldn't make the mistakes that you and WPC (WIlliam Patrick Corgan) did. He received a record of those mistakes. In the end I said I didn't want anything, just give me my book! Just give me enough attestation that I can publish. That is all.
So between Martin Gore and Chris Martin's letters I have brought you 100% up to date to the present (Well, almost, right now I'm wondering about this guy. And no. I'm too fragile and don't want to look anyone up on the internet right now. Nobody. I'll hold. Give this its space. I didn't look up Chris, I don't know practically anything about him. Let's say he's married like you. He's already shown with "Higher Power" that this matters more to him than it matters to you, because meeting me and knowing me actually matters to him. The fact that it matters means it doesn't matter to me either way, I mean, I felt it shouldn't have mattered to WPC either way either, you as well if you were mature human beings, but maybe, fair enough with the two of you it's too much to ask.)
Bringing you up to date merely brings us to the exact same threshold we were when I addressed you personally with letters hand to hand twenty-one years ago. Exactly as before, I am asking the same question I wanted to ask you all those years ago: Is any of this real to you?
Am I real to you?
Was there a command from God that was real to you? Was it this? Did it have to do with me? (The tense is deliberately changed by your own website. You have successfully buried everything.)
Because this now, what happened in 2020, is what I think it was about.
DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE FIGURED OUT AN ANSWER AFTER TWENTY-ONE YEARS?
After you said, "this is our wedding day" upon reading my book?
Do you have any manner of agreement or accord with what transpired, the whole transpiration? Is the reason I'm giving you reason enough and was it your reason too? If you're aware enough it can bring you back too, then what is it that you're aware of?
And if you agree, do you have the human decency, this time, not to imprison me with the knowledge of our commonality (and mine, which is bigger than yours), -not to imprison me in my own self awareness of myself with no one I can even talk to for twenty-one years? Turn my own mind into a prison? Because that is what you did.
I don't blame you for breaking my heart. I took care of that myself by asking, and what I was supposed to learn through having my heart broken was who was really answering my asking mind to mind, because it wasn't WPC. I'm glad I did assume that risk myself because at this threshold without having done so myself I don't think I'd be able to forgive you. I'd have blamed you for something that wasn't your fault in the bargain, because it would be something I thought I lost to you too, to your silence.
You'll notice this really comes down to just you. I am asking about an event between you, me and God that it appeared God told you to do, that you never would have done otherwise. That was the only thing I trusted myself. I never would have let you otherwise. I still have the same view after the event. You are not the only one who can see, you are the only one with whom the event took place. (Well not quite. That it happened beyond just you is the only reason it's still alive right now, because if it was down to just you, it would already be dead.) It is past now. It did take place. You were the only one I had to ask. (The others I tell.) The burden was potentially more than us in terms of an event. It appeared to affect a lot of people. I came to you with a burden of responsibility I had to either bear or dismiss.
For twenty-one years you've made this something I cannot talk about to anyone, because all of it is unprovable. You were the deciding point of proof, the crux that would make it or break it. (My family would be the hardest on earth to convince, not the easiest. That is part of the many layered trap I was set up with.) You opted to become part and parcel of the trap and imprison me inside my own mind, with an on the ground legacy of abuse that managed to damage or destroy all of my siblings and made me its most serious target. You didn't care what that trap inflicted me with on the ground, not if it was a life sentence, as in what custodial rights over my children could inflict. which has mainly been hell for the sum of their lifetimes. (I am nearly done my time but I will come out with nothing other than the children I bore the brunt of raising.) You did not care if I was abused and debased this entire time. And by and large I was.
In the meantime it was far more important to you to simp for war criminals who exist to concoct the "war on terror" only in order to turn it on their own people, not to mention people of such ambition they will lie to the entire nation in order to warmonger (this is on her/him), rather than cop their loss in an election they manipulated to the nines, which you serviced. Some priorities.
Maybe the just and proper outcome if ever we meet in the afterlife will be to recognize you in the same manner you recognized me, which was to spend twenty-one years pretending I didn't exist. (-You prepared to up the ante to a lifetime?) If so, this is the verse that springs to my head for a reply. I will simply acknowledge your own consequence, your great pretend that I never existed will stand as my answer to you, because that is what you pretended was real. I will declare us to be complete strangers who never knew each other.
Maybe I will accept the whole thing was merely my personal delusion, and as stands I have no choice but to accept that it is. It is the very first thing I get slammed with out of the start gate, of course, I get slammed all the time. Because it never mattered to you that it existed, or that I existed, or that any of this happened, and if it did happen you were the only one God told to make it happen. And if all you can do is pretend it never happened and never existed, then voila, it doesn't.
You know I accept inconsequence and that none of this really exists whenever I am duly inflicted with those outcomes rationally by your involvement. I accepted it when WPC didn't care in 2004, for example. (Wow that was damaging.)
How dare you come up with "are you a stranger in your own life" as if that's some sort of dawning recognition when it's what you deliberately inflicted me with for twenty-one years? All that solitude with all the doubt you sowed?
IF the song saved your life maybe you could begin by giving a good Goddamn that it exists at all? If your still f***ing singing it, why don't you acknowledge it's more than just your f***ing song? Why do you want the song to be someone's personal prison confined inside their own mind? How on earth is that gratifying?
Why would anyone be looking for me when you deliberately hid all there was to look for? You knew who I was on this earth, you were the only one apart from WPC (who I only existed to in terms of being a sexual object, i.e., I only existed in terms of himself, otherwise it didn't matter that I existed), and you hid it for twenty-one years?
They are looking for me! One appears to be at least. And it's because of you he doesn't know who I am, because you do, and you maintained it as a secret.
Is the reason you won't let anyone know because their caring throws into relief how little you did? Not even my own mother will likely care anymore if you manage to come through after all this time because you've already demonstrated how little you've cared, because time is its own answer. Why would she trust it? You know I started in order to try and save my own mom? (Not on me, I know.) You've managed to not make it even matter anymore to my own mother.
You won't acknowledge that I exist. The price in potentialities is getting pretty high for all of us.
At the crucible moments I assent that your are right in your choices, that they are only about love. That is the only reason those moments happen. You win all your arguments. Your choices are the right ones. You were given this one purpose, this one purpose alone, and all that is imperative to you is fulfilling it THIS WAY, and this way alone. You are only naming me for this reason, to define me as object for this moment to happen. It is all, and all that matters, in those moments.
If you read anything you will find my dilemmas equal yours about this, if not surpass them. I have been alone with them all in isolation for twenty-one years. No one cared what I went through, no one could see, I couldn't tell them. They attacked me with every vulnerability every chance they got.
I am not in a position, given my own dilemmas, to tell you which way I think things should go. I admit that on its face.
Book or no book? Is it too dangerous? Would it be a mistake?
The same goes for the question of the only thing I ever wanted in this life and lost with WPC. The narrative does not answer that question adequately either. The only way I'd really know if it's what He wants is if He impelled it through that man, if that man is as impelled and alone as I am and knows Him too.
There is no one I can even discuss these queries with. There is no one but myself. You ensured that.
I try different angles and reflect on my behaviour. It gives me facets of clues.
So, one clue: I was unmotivated to go public until I found out it may be possible Chris Martin wanted to meet me. I was moving slughouse slow.
In the airy fairy of theorizing, would the book matter to me if it wasn't a matter of supporting myself, -if for example if I had already met WPC who's rich enough and had that happily ever after, would I have been motivated by what I felt was the culpability, possible personal responsibility to the others to write the book? Well, when it became obvious the proof of what was happening would never come to exist in the fact that WPC and I had met and opted to be together (because I was planning to write it if that was the nature of the evidence, namely it had brought us together), I was furious enough to start the book anyhow because the verdict was not going to rest on whether or not I was dispensed of by one man thanks to whether or not I ended up being his own personal sex object, and became non-existent as a person if he rejected me personally. (Male magic!!!) That was ludicrous....
So I juggle between these two outcomes. I am in between them both and caught in the question of both, and my preferential is just settled personal happiness, and one consideration is just that as a considered full outcome. Is opening it up to the world just going to present to much personal danger? Will it be a net positive or net negative at large?
As I said, I don’t even have anyone to discuss this with. I've had no one I can even talk to about what's going on and what I should do my entire adult life. NO ONE HAS CARED. NO ONE CAN SEE. NO ONE COULD EVER EVEN BELIEVE THAT IT'S POSSIBLE. THERE IS NO PROOF/EVIDENCE. None except the little vague-aries you play, making your lyrics as general and blase and non-specific as you can possibly manage while still ascribing me to me, enough to keep me convinced and going because for some f***ing reason you are experimenting with whether you need me convinced, and you offer as dribbled treacle just enough for conviction and no more. And the best indication you're giving me is that it's something for you to mine inspirationally, something for you to use to make money and cachet. That's all you really care about. I mean you've proven that this is all you really cared about, you'll literally pimp out the sacred. Or have you admitted that you were wrong? And if so, what, to your mind, needs to change?
That's not what you're singing, of course, you're singing the very opposite. But honestly what does that matter when the song's your personal burial of me in that it works as a perfect denial that I exist in the exact same token? Everything you sing now is just a personal denial of what you pretend to espouse, because every word is a declaration I don't exist, because you expend your life in the pretension that I don't exist to you. You won't credit that you're singing this to me, apart from the date drop, which is intended to only grant the impact of its signification to me. You're pretending that I don't exist in the act of the song itself, because your omission of attribution is no different than total denial there is any attribution to be made. You've hurt us this way for twenty-one years. And the more you engage, the worse you are making it. The more you play at this experiment of signifying it while denying attribution, the more you show the scale of your personal denial of me is personal indeed.
Your song saved my life. -Well, what if it doesn't save mine? Then where are you at?
Where am I if the one person who knows what's in my eyes spends all his existence pretending that I don't exist, to the extent that his very expression of me is an act of denial that I do?
Our little kitten vanished the morning after I posted his paw print, the morning after Thanksgiving. We are very sad, as he is probably gone.
This is my last appeal to you.
My last appeal is this attempt to show how this exists beyond you, that it wasn't just down to you. It wasn't you marrying me. It was Someone else. I am able at last to distinguish between Him and you, and see that what He wanted for me was not what you wanted for me. It was His song that saved your life, not mine. I really believe that, enough to try and tell you this one last time. It's the only reason I am awake at all, -it is the only time and place I was ever truly wanted. It is truly beautiful. Hopefully I'll be able to show you this, that it was more than just me and you. It was all of us.
I've accepted my culpability in that I'd have only truly saw this the hard way. Losing you by having every aspect of that burned out of me, only to have it resurrect absent your involvement, demonstrated that to me. I only learned through final abnegation.
Good-Bye now.
Sent Friday December 10th at 2:03 pm
Good Afternoon.
As you can see this is the same html page, different letter. We are at Johnny Marr's Fever Dreams Part I, which means I am still moving slughouse slow and still need to complete two more entries from November before the turn of the year. Then there are the private parties' letters to consider, several at this point. And then JM has the second volume of the EP December 17th.
I'm not going to press the Q of why this is what it is but you more than made my day a couple days ago.
I'm already getting the expected comments: Get help. Seriously, seek medical help. get on some antipsychotics before it gets completely out of hand. Whaddaya know, Reddit apparently deleted it.
The appropriate reply would be, this either requires counterargument or agreement, when expectation of either is a failure of common sense.
The idiot has also not registered issuing a judgment on a observational exercise I already succeeded at once as an operative proof with a presumed to be involved party, that this is a repeat on a public experiment that already succeeded when and where it bloody counted, and the sum of observation last time 'round literally took four years, (five for the denouement), so really, why not jump the gun? If I'm saying it's contingent on observational analysis of what happens next for possibly the next four years, WTAF?
This is why I never open my mouth. Without the necessary evidence, it is a completely redundant exercise. Especially to family. I consider my inability to relate any of this to my family to rest squarely on you. (WPC gets the failed romance off ramp. You however don't.)
I am not in a hurry. I have my US citizenship to apply for before the turn of the year and who knows how long that'll last, but I want to be as completely, utterly innocuous as I am 'til it's over. That and my children's emancipation from custody, which is four more years from my understanding on my daughter's count. There's no point in a book deal before. All that would provide is a vein to sink fangs into. A new exploit for no ending negative engagement when any engagement will do. It is this passage that pisses me off.
So I am not as PO'd as I present thanks to the bigger picture. However I find it astounding that this is one of the first things off the presses, as it were, and it allows me to say something about it, cracks it open.
I forgot two mentions, -on the book Q I fully planned to do it if WPC and I got together. That would have given me the chance to write. I was waiting because meeting and getting together was, to my mind, the necessary evidence for writing it. When he copped out, I did it anyway.
And when I say I have no idea if meeting Chris as he seems to be presenting would be a good idea, the consideration is twofold, 1) there's no way I could dare attach this to any hope of expectation of mine and 2) who the hell knows? Because it really is the Transcendent talking. At surface value he's not my trip. It would be finding out same as anyone else on the planet.
But now with Johnny we have a second drop me a line/wants an explanation, by the looks of it. I don't expect there to be too many so, let me lay it on as the opportunity presents itself: it really is not fair to present a barrier to this by deliberate omission, and this attempt at a bypass has about a snowball's chance in hell (but maybe that's the idea).
I'm glad you're amused. I'm glad I'm amused.
Just don't make it short shrift in the long term. I've had it beyond up to here with secrets!
WPC took me up that garden path only to utterly crush me after a full two years. It sucked.