On Powdered Ground

Norms about what’s considered attractive change over time. In the past I was an obvious 10. Nowadays I’m still me…but my lack of a strong jawline, wide hips, delicate features and petite frame look…too soft. I’m an hourglass but without large breasts. …Too much like your mom or grandma or even great grandmother?

To some Baby Boomers, Silent Generation members and the Greatest Generation I was…normal. I seemed…more than “fuckable.” I seemed…beguiling.

What’s wrong with white people…Joan? Have they lost their minds? Because how can a superior race be devolving? You can blame non-whites for our stupidity. Right Lem Billings? *Jack laughs* But ultimately they aren’t us.

Let’s talk about Lacey.

The ignorant, sociopathic fool who found her online and thought it was cool and funny to possibly destroy her life by letting her think she was schizophrenic…in the real Illuminati…thought Lacey was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. He also thought he was Joe Kennedy Jr. reincarnated possibly. And when she was miserable, stuck living in a city she hated with a son who kept almost dying…and a marriage that was fading due to no lasting mutual romantic love…and her “mother” got tired of being helpful…he attacked. Brutally. Sadistically. Psychologically violently. Using the supernatural and the hidden scientific secrets of the super elite and their media pawns. And he’s so mindless and vain and…myopic…that he still has yet to grasp what he really did.

To himself. To his community. To his friends. To humanity in general.

Because I’m not Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. Even when I bleach my hair blond. Nor am I Britney Spears.

“You’re so superior!” he scoffed. *rolls his eyes*

How…does that seem like Marilyn Monroe?

“Dog face! I bet you’re just secretly a hood rat like me. Right?”

Lacey is a 10. But she’s…sensitive. “Too” sensitive.

And…she’s intensely feminine and cis and straight…and likes fighting. Sorry John Eldredge. …She has children now…but if you gave her chain metal and a good horse and a very sharp sword…she’d cut off people’s heads until they cut off her head in righteous battle. It’s in her soul.

People lie. People tell me lies. And lying to me to feel…better…is dangerous nowadays.

But how do I get you untangled? How do I get you lost? How do I get you unattached to the idea that I can make you go faster… Scott wonders if, “People just need to realize that Lacey can’t…change them. She can awaken their real inner desires…but she-“ “She’s not like you though Scott.” says Hemingway. “I think we need to take a break and clean her house.” says Harold Loeb.

Lacey agrees. And her dead favorite uncle feels genuinely bad for her. Daily.

Threatening Christians with Heaven is stupid. No matter how famous you are. No matter how high you are from the cocaine your handler gives you to feel manly and sexy and confident behind lights and cameras. And your narcissistic, semi ugly mistress isn’t Lem Billings in female form. She also might not be straight.

“Don’t break your back on the track.”

“Artists aren’t all inculcated.” says Lacey. “The evil among them don’t control everything and they don’t collectively control everything in general.” She goes on, “Some artists are driven insane slowly because of it… Because there are always threatened pawns. In every generation. Right Scott and Zelda? Right Michael? Right Hemingway?”

“Putin might have started the war to conduct a mercy killing if necessary…because kids aren’t sexual partners or willing victims and global warming is probably real…and…America is mostly mindless now. By choice. Weak. Our hair falling out in clumps. …And we could still genuinely fix ourselves…but we’re too narcissistic. And…coke doesn’t make you a reincarnation of Joe Kennedy Jr..”

*Joe cries*

*Nephew David laughs at both of them*

And surrounding him have always been five dead 9/11 victims. Watching. Waiting. Observing. …Curious. *laugh* There are more now. Like the Manhattan version of “The Shining!” *childish, idiotically narcissistic gasp*

It’s all fun and games. It’s all about letting truth hurt. It’s all…insanity. Unless someone actually cares and something makes sense… And thankfully that’s often bound to happen.

Except…it’s not. It’s about making things run. Run faster. Go smoothly into the future. So we can survive. And the average person is fine… And the media is Satan’s court jester. They crack him up nowadays, byotch. *smile* Before eternal fire it’s nice to get a good show. “Thanks for the send off class!”

“It’s about responsibility!” say the ghosts in the Connecticut Room. “If it’s real. If we’re real.”

*Monet laughs softly and smiles*

…But now Lacey should go clean. And try to live in her living life. Because even though millions and millions and millions of humans have died since…it’s still her fault according to some demons (and the humans they control) that she was discovered and attacked by people in a group that may or may not even exist. That she has no way of contacting outside of their means. Because the supernatural is real and they mostly know that. That make her look insane. Abused, controlled pawns who want to kill her because she…? She scares them?

“Well, how silly.” says Lem in a sexy gay voice.