Sunday, May 27, 2012

A Ukrainian Interview with me in the Crosshairs.

The gentle warriors of a United States gone insane through greed.

A solemn wish for the madness to stop, with the reality that wish will fail totally.



Welcome to what many of have asked for: The picking of my brain. So many of you have asked me questions about why I started a blog on such a dismal subject, sometimes going highly political and posting things both pro and con that would elate others and so bother many more.



As if I I hadn’t already covered such things in posts before…

Yet, they asked me questions of the same caliber that I had asked those during the phone interviews. Their questions had so much more personal bearing than those that I ask. As I had painted with broad strokes, the ones questioning me had more directed brushes, finely honed skills and better competency. If I fail on this post, I am quite sure I will piss off several countries far and away that what I live with here.



It is much easier to punch a cinderblock wall with bare fist in anguish than to truly face ourselves when faced with aspects of mind held so dear and precious to us. We do not wish to explore those avenues. We, those like me, walk down vast areas of darkness seeking knowledge and justify ourselves with results. Places where shadows cover lands that only the insane would travel, where the cries of women screaming, blue-to-red-white strobes bank off houses, friends faces and the trees of this once-known Gentle Earth are bathed in the light of Police cars after bullets ripped and people lay dead on mother Earth.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Let’s just get this over with…

 

Why do you choose a subject like this?

Me: because it occurred to me to do so. I began reading about psychopaths after the Chardon Killings and one thing lead to another. I had no idea I would go into nonviolent psychopathy as I had no idea such a world even existed. I started reading about childhood psychopathy, Columbine, Amish School slayings and so forth, C’mon, to me, it is easy to understand violent psychopaths. They follow a pattern, a profile if you will, that makes them easy to spot if you have enough intuition or gifts and an undying passion for the truth,

Please see a movie called: Citizen X. Where before the wall came down, one investigator worked for years, much against the USSR’s belief and propaganda that ‘serial killings’ came as a result of a decadent Western philosophy. This brave man nailed Andrei Chikatilo, who later confessed to 56 killings.

She: You keep avoiding the question, Sir.

Me: Who’s avoiding anything? I am just telling what captured my thoughts as they occurred to

Me: Wat the fuck do you want? When did I come up with the idea to start my own blog? Is that what you’re asking me? The what, the time, place?

She: Yes. What caused you to build a land of fallen dominoes?

Me: I was curious,. Okay? Nice words though: fallen dominoes. Wish I thought of that.

She: continue, please.

Me: Fine. I was at work. It was slow on a Saturday and hit the NET. I did a search for psychopaths and I hit a Google blog about psychopaths. At the upper edge, I saw the words: Start your Own Blog. I clicked the tab and began this walk with strangers. It has not been three months, and I still sense the excitement I felt when I started this. It keeps growing with each post and all the emails I get.

She: So you are OCD? Interesting…

Me: NO! I am not OCD. Keep trying.

She: Then why continue this trying of theories of things you wish to prove?

Me: You are an idiot. Do you know this?

She: I am. You fail to answer the question.

Me: Do you seek the method to the madness? What caused me to hit the worst parts of human behavior imaginable without knives, guns and bombs? Where no blood is shed besides that of a menstral period and messed sheets? I drank blood from such places from ones most trusted. Iron, accept no substitute. Aren’t we all about Green-sources here these days?

She: Gross. Keep going. You were bored at work and so forth.

Me: YES! When I got home that Saturday. I only thought of letting my dogs out, feeding them and DAS POOHYAN, and hitting my computer and learning MicroSoft Word. There was so much trial and error, so much content lost from me hitting wrong prompts and such.

\ I was the King Turd in Assholivia!

I began thinking and typing and doing this repeatedly. I posted and posted thoughts over and over. I heard music playing in my head, kept posting and writing. I just kept doing what my head kept telling to do .

She: So you heard voices, no?

Me: not in the mental-problemish realm. No, I heard no voices.

She: Yet you heard things. In your head if not your mind? What did you hear then?

Me: Songs from my childhood and growing up with two older sisters.

She: Then what did you hear?

Me: I heard the fucking Cowsills, okay? The song: rain in the park and other things smashed me in the nuts, and I played it over and over again as I wrote…

Yeah, pretty messed up, isn’t it?

She: Continue, please.

Me: I had such fine memories of my sisters and I waking up. Holly, the eldest, would crank tunes that blanketed the whole upstairs. The Cowsills, besides Yes, Elp,. Genesis, and others. With Heidi’s love of America, and fantastic bands like Second Chapter Of Acts. All these influences, not to mention the volume when Holly was around, made for a great places to embrace music the way my sisters did yet mom and dad had nothing familiar with.

When I sat down and wrote my minds chapters, I had music via the NET and the wondrous things christ would have me write about. Call it a sense of insane shores, god knows, my sisters and I knew this area where water hits mainland from many ER visits and hopes that countless/faceless nurses would tell us about hope and such. I cannot say my elder sisters began stopping of emotion, but I did.

She: What did those things make you?

Me: It made me a prick. I could understand friends when stress hit them, you know? They’d have a dad or mom or cousin, whatever, de in some state of illness not as bad as a heart-attack. I would just listen and tell them them how to beat the hospital security of the late 70’s and early 80’s. By that point, I was truly numb. I could emulate emotions and such. Know how to give a face to equal statements by others and such. I felt nothing.

You must think me a monster.

She:
нет,, N0. Keep going, Mark.

Me: I could comfort those in pain. I could help them. I just couldn’t feel what they did. I don’t any of them knew or sensed this. And what is so wrong with that? I’d help them when asked and offer when they didn’t.

Sure, I can also lie like the best of used car salesman. Give people enough detail, or like Hitler said: the bigger the lie, the more the people will believe it.

She: cutting you off- does this mean you became one of what you write about back in early teens?

Me: No. Well, not completely. I had what I thought was the ‘love emotion’, but it was quite shallow in depth. Kind of like swan diving into a 2 foot pool. I had desire, though I believe this to be mostly sexually dictated looking back.

She: So, what did you hope to gain from girls you dated as a teen?

Me: To get laid? C’mon, really, what are you seriously asking?

She: You were not that shallow in depth. You made the pool that others wished to dive. You did this with patience and time. You knew they’d plunge into Markland. What did you gain from this?

Me: I gained a further understanding into the workings of females. It wasn’t so much about getting laid as it was what rituals one had to meet in order to reach such places.

She: eloquently put. So you used their emotions to teach you?

Me: yes. I did.

She: are you ashamed of this?

Me: not in the slightest.

She: why is this?

Me: How many decades does this go back?

She: to the here and now?

Me: no comment.

She: Why would you say no comment?

Me: are you dense? Read the blog…

She: I have. So, why do you write your mind in this place?

Me: to get words and thoughts of the fucking and fucked. Some with to be used and others with to be the users. Tell me! Can you find another place that caters to both sides of human life in this aspect?

She: No. This what brought me here to your, our land, from half a world away, Mark.

I just didn’t seriously asking you questions as I could. It this hurts you, my hearts weeps and I wish to embrace you.

Me: Thanks. Can we please change the subject now?

She: Yes. Shall we?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Это прибыло в результате Ирины Спектор, берущей интервью у меня.

Я пропускаю тон вашего голоса и нежного способа, которым Вы имеете

 

Я могу играть с безумием, поскольку Вы делаете?

Much Love,

Irina.

Come home.