Yesterday was sooo humiliating. So so fucking humiliating! But first, I was surprised I only slept till just before 9:00 this morning, but it’s a good thing cuz they are back to booming in the sky. They boomed by just after 9:00 and again a little while ago, and I doubt it’ll be just a few days that they’ll fly this time around. The odds of them crashing another plane so soon seems quite slim. But if they closed the bombing range, then where are they flying to? Maybe what Tom heard was just talk. Anyway, I won’t do a schedule rollover like I’d planned.

Tom agreed with me about Paul not calling cuz he really thought he missed me in court. He was calling to remind me about court. Then why couldn’t he have simply said so? What is it with society and their dancing around the subject? Why is society so afraid to be blunt? The English language was created for a reason. Even so, for some strange reason, people see direct honesty as rudeness.

Tom woke me up at 5:45 with coffee and I was dog tired, cussing the assholes out in my head for waking me up even more here than in Phoenix! By 6:30 we were out the door headed for the dead Denny’s by the hotels we stayed in (and I thought life was so rough and frustrating then!). I got bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausages. Next time I think I’ll just get pancakes. They’re really good and I don’t have them that often. I also hope that next time there won’t be any ants on the bottom of the syrup holder like there were the last time.

We got to court with nearly an hour to spare. When Paul first came into view, I knew it was him, even though he didn’t look like I pictured him to look. For some reason, I pictured a chunky blond guy, not a thin dark-haired guy. This guy was just under average height, kind of scrawny, fortyish, Italian-looking. Anyway, he bored the fuck out of me with legal talk. The legal talk was basically about the terms and conditions of my plea bargain deal. He said he personally felt this judge we were going to face was “strange,” but not to let myself be shaken up by him. Well, I personally didn’t find anything off about him, but I don’t intimidate that easily anyway, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever allow myself to be riled up or bullied in any way by any kind of authority figure. It did piss me off when the judge read how an attempted stalking charge meant that I caused the poor little bitch to fear for herself and her family. My ass she was scared! She was pissed, was what she was, and she only went to the cops out of spite. Anything to get at me. Besides, sending journal excerpts is NOT stalking.

I guessed we’d be stuck at the courthouse till noon–1:00 and I was right. What shouldn’t have taken more than a half-hour took nearly 4 fucking hours. I won’t hold my breath, but right now it’s looking like I’m going to get just one year’s probation and counseling, which is better than 3 years of that shit or jail, but I never should’ve had anything to begin with. I did nothing wrong. All I did was express myself. No one forced the bitch to read my mail. I’m sorry if she had a problem with what I said in my journals, but you can’t fuck with people and expect not to have problems as a result of it, and again, the law may say I did wrong, but I say they’re lucky I didn’t do more than I did. A lot more. They got off quite easy by me since it was nothing but words – words I really needed to get off my chest - and I don’t feel one bit sorry for these people. I just don’t.

Anyway, Paul says to me, “Everything will be fine. Believe me, I’m a conservative thinker. I don’t tell all my clients this.”

Yeah, right! I mean, how do I know if he’s bullshitting me or not? The cop bullshitted me, so why/how can I trust him? I won’t know till this is finally over someday, but it is over with the Mexicans. At least, that’s what they told me. Part of the plea deal stipulates they drop the Mexican shit altogether and change the stalking charge to attempted stalking with it being dropped down to a misdemeanor instead of a felony pending “successful” probation (I started with a class 5 felony and now I’m at a class 6 undesignated felony).

Yeah, well, I ain’t about to breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate my finally being free of the black bitch, cuz it’ll take time going by without incident for me to believe it. You know what they say – seeing really is believing. I wonder why they dropped the Mexican lady and kept the black one. Could it be because I called the black bitch and not the Mexican lady? Tom thinks she works in the courts somehow, somewhere, and that’s how she got this pushed as far as it’s gone and knew where we’d be yesterday. He believes Mr. Biased was telling the truth about dropping it, but she abused her authority within the courts to push it and says that’s the type of job a welfare program would have – to wean them into some form of city/court job. Yeah, the fucking bitch looks like court personnel of some kind, so maybe Mr. Biased did tell the truth, and maybe this bitch is abusing some kind of power. There’s no denying that this bitch and Miss Mex look like direct opposites. The Mexican lady was huge and sloppily dressed. This bitch is slim and dresses with style and neatness. A classy-looking professional, so to speak.

We also suspect a huge possibility that Mr. Biased knew damn well it wasn’t over when we had our little “chat,” and that he and the bitch may be close friends – as in VERY close friends – based on the way they carried on in court.

Nonetheless, if having to be arrested, spend the night in jail, and lose all this money and time we lost isn’t humiliating enough, how do you suppose I felt when the bitch and her boy toy showed up to watch things play out in court?! As if I wasn’t already humiliated, degraded and victimized enough!!! This must be how a rape victim feels, I thought, having to face her abuser all over again. It’s a wonder they didn’t show up for my last court date. I know I’ll have to see these sick fucks at least one more time too, cuz they sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss the fun part – the sentencing, which will be on October 30th. No, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tom was wrong when he said they’re no longer involved and that it’s just me and the state from here on out unless he didn’t want to tell me differently. I knew deep down that they had a right to be there, but I just didn’t consciously think about it with all I already had on my mind. I should’ve known, though, and it just goes to prove how vindictive and determined this little bitch is. She just doesn’t know when to give up and let sleeping dogs lay and move on. She just won’t go away! I felt victimized all over again by them being there, and I just wanted to fucking smack them! Wanted to shout to them, to the judge, to everyone, that they were 10 times more the perpetrator than I ever was, and list the abuse they put me through, and Tom, too. Wanted to look that bitch in the eye and ask, “Did you really think you could do all you did to us and not get a reaction of some kind in return?” That’s what’s scary about these people; they don’t know right from wrong. They think it’s OK to harass their neighbors, and who knows how far these very sick and very determined people are capable of going, despite their charming appearances? I know they’ve got our address, I just know it. Maybe the Mexicans do too, but truthfully, the Mexicans seem more the type to hunt me down and do God only knows what to the house than the black bitch and company. You just never know with these people. You just never know. Maybe they’re waiting, biding their time. Maybe they’ll come crawling back out of the woodwork in a year or even a few years? Like I said, they just won’t go away. Always with me, always with them.

They say talking or writing about your problems helps, and usually it does, but sometimes it just reinforces all my negative feelings and intensifies my emotions. Tears of anger, frustration and humiliation are in my eyes right now as I write this. How much longer am I going to be these people’s victim? How much more time and money am I going to lose to these people? I know they’re going to end up making me pay a monthly court fee of at least $50, and God knows what they’ll make me pay directly to the bitch herself.

Later…

I have to write about this rather horrendous and traumatic ordeal in spurts. It’s just too upsetting. These fucking freeloaders are still very much a part of my life and it makes me sick!

Hello, Dan. What took you so long to start your engine-gunning shit up again? Yes, it’s definitely Dan. No doubt about that. I brought in one of our 3 box fans, cuz the sound machine’s too soft to drown out his shit, and it looks like this is gonna go on for hours. At least he’s nothing compared to what I had to endure from both sets of freeloaders. I won’t even think of fighting any noise out here, cuz as I learned the hard way, that’d just make things worse.

Tom said that in respect to what I feel about these people, it was funny how she didn’t want to walk by me. Under normal circumstances, I’d find it funny too, but nothing about these sick twists is the least bit funny. Nonetheless, the cock walked by us and sat next to Tom (I was on the aisle). There wasn’t any bench space anywhere else on that side of the room and the front row was reserved for lawyers, so the cock walks by us, glances at me with an I don’t know what kind of expression, then sits next to Tom who was on the inside. The cock’s expression was almost that of a sad one, but I don’t know. This thing never struck me as a very emotional kind of cock, anyway. He’s very Art-like, under his bitch’s thumb. She dictates and dominates the relationship. This would be easy enough to tell even if I hadn’t seen it before in couples like Art and Doe. He’s passive, while she’s an aggressive, loud, tyrant of a bitch who thinks she owns the world and everyone in it.

Anyway, just as he was passing us, she called to him, then spun around and left the courtroom (it would’ve been even funnier if Tom had stuck a leg out and tripped the cock). Maybe he passed us and sat near us to let us know they were there - who knows? They might’ve noticed that I noticed them before. As I turned and glanced towards the aisle, I found myself staring right up at that sick face of hers and she recognized me right away. So shortly afterward, he left, then together they came back and sat on the other side of the room, getting their kicks out of watching me up at the podium as the judge went over the legal terms of my plea just as Paul had, asking if I understood this and that, if I was on any medication, etc., while they got to get away with their shit. How lucky that bitch is that God spared her the humiliation of having to walk by me. Why couldn’t he have spared me the humiliation of being arrested, jailed, and robbed of my time and money by my very own instigators? Huh, God?! God, I hate you!!! I really do!

Maybe he’s compensating me for not having anything happen to me when Stacey and the butch pulled me into court, and for dodging getting served for the bottle toss. I don’t know, but either way, I’ve paid enough! OK? I’ve been made to pay enough! This is wrong and He’s got to know it. Just living with these people for the years I lived with them is enough, to say nothing of all the emotional stress, anguish, anxiety and frustration these people put me through in Phoenix. How much more can you hate me, God? How much more can you punish me? When is enough ever enough? Who are you gonna sic on me when I finally am free of these freeloaders someday? The renters? Dan? Someone else? Someone not even in the area yet?

Later…

Tom got in a little while ago, saying he didn’t hear a thing from Dan. So he didn’t go on for hours this time, huh? I’ll still keep my fan on. This guy’s home all the time, and he could start his shit any time. Besides, the circulating air feels nice.

Got some cinnamon scent cartridges for the office and master bath. Still got that tropical mist oil in the bedroom.

I asked him about the bombing range closing, and yup, it’s all talk and no action. He said he heard they were contemplating shutting it down. They won’t shut it down. I can guarantee that, and if they did, things would get noisier by way of people’s music around here. In a way, I don’t want Dan to shut up, cuz I know I could be replaced with something worse. At least they can’t get right up to the house!

I also asked him why he thought she wasn’t at the courthouse when I was arraigned and he said she wouldn’t have known about it, and remember how the judge asked – has the victim been notified?

Some “victim” she is! Poor, poor little bitch. What a victim - boo hoo!

After seeing the black bitch, I wondered if I saw the Mexican bitch, or at least their associates, but I don’t think so. Not if they dropped them from my life, and I didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they were in the wrong room or connected to the inmates who were also present in one section of the room. This time, the jail folks didn’t appear on TV, they were there live, sitting in the jury box. There were about a dozen cocks (mostly white) handcuffed and chained together, and a few women, too; two non-whites and a white-zitted blimp. Anyway, a couple of adult female Mexicans with a couple of kids around 5 and 8 sat behind us for a while. Again, I didn’t recognize any of them, but I could’ve sworn that after one of them got up to talk to the sheriff in charge of the chain gang, she gave me a slightly smug smile as she passed by me before she and those she was with left the courtroom. Again, I don’t know if there’s a connection or not.

After the courtroom drama, it was off for more bullshit at the adult probation department where we waited an eternity after I filled out a general info form. A woman finally called me and took my picture with a digital camera. One that takes the picture right onto the floppy rather than onto a card you insert into a special floppy like ours. After that, we went to a different floor where she asked me nearly 200 questions, which took about an hour. A lot of them were alcohol and drug-related and didn’t apply to me. So much for wanting to not give out too much information, as I prefer. I’ve learned through experience and by having information about me used against me that it’s best not to tell people any more than they need to know. I was tempted to lie when she asked me if I’ve ever tried to commit suicide, but I’d already answered enough personal questions as it was, questions that could be checked out and verified, that I decided the truth would be best. She asked me questions about our finances and my family. I told her I wasn’t in contact with my folks and she asked me about my childhood. How was I disciplined as a kid? she asked me. By having the things I liked taken away from me, being emotionally and verbally abused, and sometimes slapped around too, I told her. What was the most traumatic experience I had as a kid? At first my mind was overwhelmed with a zillion different things and I simply told her there were numerous experiences. Later, after the question had time to sink in, it hit me what the answer was: being sent to Brattleboro, Northampton and Valleyhead. Runner-up to that would be my emotional state primarily through my grade school ages. God, was I sooo depressed! Stressed and depressed, but definitely depressed. That woman really depressed me with the way she controlled me and cut me down!

Some questions seemed to be totally irrelevant, like do I think tattoos and body-piercing are OK? I said yes, a person should have the right to do as they choose with their bodies. One amusing question was, are there any gangs, graffiti or gunshots in my neighborhood? There certainly are gunshots! (I explained the hunters to her and just how remote we are) I answered "some" when she asked me if I felt cops really help people and if I felt authority figures abuse their position. I answered "yes" when she asked me if I felt society was to blame for most of the world’s problems. That, and God, but I left God out of it. Again, what people don’t know and don’t need to know won’t hurt them.

After asking me more questions like, do I think it’s OK to obtain money illegally if I can’t legally (naturally I said no, but who knows what I’d really do if I were in a desperate situation), she gave me a couple of envelopes with both addresses and return addresses on them, saying I could get anyone, including Tom, to write a character reference for me. Tom, and maybe Mary too, will be doing this for me, but I don’t see what good it’ll do. Anyone can get someone to write good things about them. So what? Loverboy could write about how wonderful his sick bitch is, but would I believe it? Of course not.

She asked me what I felt I should get for this, and after I expressed the fact that the “victim” isn’t the only victim in this case, I said I felt therapy was enough, but would accept both therapy and probation, stressing my need to “move on.” That was my only lie. What do I really feel I should get? I can’t be given any time back that I’ve lost and nothing can take away the emotional suffering I’ve gone through on account of this, and even physical when my stomach would act up, but what I should get is restitution for any sums of money I lost to this. I should be paid back the bond fee, parking costs, gas money, and things like that.

I’ve got to call my probation officer, Donald, on the 14th, but at least I have over a month before I have to go back to court and be victimized and humiliated all over again. And just because we struck a deal with this plea bargain doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to stick. It’ll depend on the judge. He could disagree with the deal and send me off to jail, so I haven’t 100% escaped the threat of jail. So, a male PO this time, huh? The woman told me that although she couldn’t be certain, Don may go for just phone contact since I live so far away. Yeah, right! I’ll bet you anything he’ll want to see me within a few days after my call on the 14th. I’m sure he’ll want to see me in person once a week, although if the judge lets us stick to our deal, it’ll lessen over time.

Later…

Tom’s gone to bed. Life may suck in general, but I look forward to the little things in life – reading in bed together this weekend, a stunt show and a new movie I’m taping, etc.

If I remember any more questions the court lady asked me or anything else of significance, I’ll jot it down. Meanwhile, I was determined not to let the little shits get me down, so I enjoyed the rest of my day. Went to a couple of bookstores that were practically side-by-side. One had mostly new books, and I didn’t like the way it was laid out. I like books to be laid out by subject as well as by author. The next store was better organized and most of their stuff was used. I got 4 books, mostly supernatural suspense, rather than mysteries.

I was so exhausted by the time we got back 8 hours later that I napped for a couple of hours. I closed my eyes to block out freeloader thoughts, but they slipped in under my eyelids, for God’s sake! Then into my nightmares, too! That bitch even controls and lives in my damn dreams! I gave a yell as I woke up (I guess we were chasing each other around the courthouse) and Tom was on the phone with Mary who asked what that was. Oops! I’ll tell her in my next letter that I simply had a nightmare.

It was great going to bed last night knowing I wasn’t going to have to get up to an alarm, even if I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway with them booming by, but I’ll take my chances tomorrow. They might boom by tomorrow, but maybe not, so I’ll sleep in tomorrow, too. Come Sunday or Monday I’ll go back to setting the alarm and getting up around 8:00 - 9:00.