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"JAZZ Music and
Stalkersville:"
We're blasting JAZZ music in our party sphere! It's illuminating my flickering strobe light inspirations for Stalkersville. It's blasting my aspirations for PA splendors and swirling reels of, "As the Stalker Turns." It's a GREAT day; as good as it gets, in Victimsville. All in the absence of more palatable options. We do so adapt. Where the victims STOP being pitiful victims. I'm envisioning the attractions. How many too(s) could I do, would I do, if I had to march out ALL my too(s)? There isn't a limit. Sometimes victims too lose their limits. Come along Stalkadillo; donate some of YOUR OWN brain pudding by way of one glorious SOLO donation salvation of the innocents of which Stalkadillo's don't ever qualify. We could display it in a bottle, we could display it in a jar, we could package it up and mail it to some ambitious scientist. Perhaps a DNA study mixed with cerebral slicing dissections could teach some ambitious scientist somewhere how to edit out the Stalkadillo gene flaw. Perhaps some genetic alteration cure could be found for what ails that Stalkadillo. And I always thought the very point of an "investigation" was to be objective and distant. Not distant as one basking endlessly in pusillanimity while perpetrating as many depraved acts as possible to create as many symptoms as possible in the victims. Not distant in the realm of the continuous hunt for co-victims and co-victims cookie jars and co-victims of the helpless voiceless nature and co-victims of the "Easy Pickens." No, rather distant as in unobserved, undetectable, unobtrusive, not affecting the victims in any manner whatsoever. Hanging ever so peacefully and ever so loosely on the sidelines. Discovering the victims' every angle without impacting their natural habitat, without altering their natural habitat, without terrorism. Silly me -- always the perfectionist in ideals. Silly me -- always after the real scoop not the skewed scoop. Stalkadillos are after symptom creation, some desired symptoms they can NEVER create. It hardly matters how studious, how determined, his efforts may be, he'd NEVER manufacture munchausens, nor multiples, nor violence to innocents, where none is capable of residing. The best he could hope for is increased PTSD and clinical depression, but that's good enough for him. He preys in small part on the ignorance of the masses to believe one thing is another of extreme opposite dimensions. He preys in small part on the stupidity he can project upon others and the behaviors he can commit and then project neatly upon his victims. After a time he becomes so pathetically transparent to his victims and to his co-victims. To him this isn't a game of Chinese Checkers but a game of Idiot Chess. To call it anything else other than a game would be a lie. It is HIS game of HIS creation of HIS own personal self-determination and everyone else is a pawn. Some pawns are utterly defenseless and other pawns have some bite. No pawns had any bite when he began his game of Idiot Chess two years ago. Certainly, to him this isn't a game of Chinese Checkers but a game of Idiot Chess. How many fools can he convince. How many hydrophobic magic carpet rides of insanity's monkey circuses can he set aloft into perpetual motion. Then he dreams of crouching back within the brush and watching it all unfold in timeless loops. The very panic and the fall and the flogging of the innocent. He deems this thing as his life's most significant accomplishment. A vacuous pointless accomplishment though it may be. It's the best he can hope for and the worst he can dread has not yet happened. The worst he can dread has not yet begun to happen.
By Lady Lost
Copyright © 2002
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Copyright
International Copyright
No rights to copy, print, download, duplicate, or display elsewhere other than upon this specific website granted or implied without the direct written permission of the author. Please contact agent of the author: Mr. Gunther S. Vanludwick at svanludwick@yahoo.com
**As with all poetry, essays, correspondence and/or published letters, e-mails or other communications presented on this webpage, this work is a personal subjective expression of its author's own feelings, thoughts, beliefs, and opinions. This statement is in no way intended to invalidate or minimize the powerful and poignant experiences of this author. However, this statement is intended to indicate that creative expressions such as these written forms of artwork are derived from their author's own personal feelings, thoughts, beliefs and opinions.
**This work is yet another example of this author's terror changed to anger. The content of this work does not indicate that victims should cease viewing their stalkers as dangerous predatory individuals. Indeed stalkers are both predatory and dangerous; however, they are also cowards. Victims, please do not become complacent with your security measures due to the deceptively pitiful behaviors of your stalker. A stalker is another type of domestic abuser and he can become hazardous, even homicidal, at any moment.
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