Fort Tipii


Fort Tipii

Tepee-Hut
Tepee-Hut

I couldn’t build a proper tree house.  Too high up and anyway I’m afraid of heights, so instead I built this little fort of sorts as a place to gather my thoughts after a hectic day.  Made my best efforts with whatever materials the forest floor offered up as building materials.  There were enough twigs and branches to construct more ground level tree houses or make my current enclosure larger but I chose to save some for kindling for warmth against the chill night air and the rest I kept stacked as a type of cord-wood in a womb like nook Mother Nature had carved into a tree that had been struck by lightening. Eventually I decided to construct another Tipii twig abode to store my few belongings I had gradually began to sneak away from The Family Residence.

These Tree/Tepee/Tipii/Twig aka T3 structures became my holy sanctuaries and safe havens I return to again and again to re-connect with Mother Earth and nature. Too small to stand upright clicking my heels together three times was not an option so I was forced to remain seated. With some degree of discomfort I could lay down in a fetal position while I imagined myself re-entering an alternate womb to be reborn into better circumstances. Mine were a tepee shelters without the buffalo skin covering all exposed bones and framework.

Tipii Stick Hut
Tipii-Hut

Sometimes I’d hug my knees and rhythmically rock back and forth while repeating what I thought were calming mantras, occasionally wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole transporting me some place free from pain, misery and cruelty. Like a shaman I chanted using my homemade rituals attempting to silence the drumbeat of voices incessantly chattering inside my head versus the declarations of the Family.  They created a dissonance tear in the time frame continuum of my thoughts.

You see our house, The Family Home if you could call it that is a ramshackle structure; a hodgepodge mixture of stone, wood and stucco additions and afterthoughts as different parts of the building were constructed at different times upon the whims the directors and caretakers.

I was forced to share this mishmash cottage with twelve other inmates, bordered on this expanse of woods providing me a refuge from leaky roofs, busted walls, peeling wallpaper, lukewarm baths, moldy musty scented showers, not to mention all the yelling, screaming, arguments, fights, thefts of food and personal belongings and constant disagreements of a house too small to accommodate the number of people residing within its creaky ramparts.  The Family nicknamed it the Hotel California. You know the place where you check in but never check out. The nails across chalkboard voices of The Family were constant knife thrusts to my brain making daily life a constant battle that did not end even has the diurnal gave up residence to the nocturnal for they all snored, wheezed and gasped through the night abyss.  The utter desolation of the place crept into your bones and took root nourished by hopelessness.

The Family’s house sits on an oddly place piece of land, our house gives way to forest which in turn after several miles gives way to craggy, rocky shores of a steep cliff, where if one sits perfectly still you can hear the violent waves crashing against rough jagged rock formations that looked as though they were designed by the devil himself. It is said that in olden times there used to be many shipwrecks where sailors were either impaled on the razor sharp Stalagmites. Sometimes you can even hear the shrieks, moans, cries and groans of the unfortunate wretches mixed in with the howling winds. The few who weren’t dashed to pieces by the razor sharp jagged rock formations tried to climb up to safety but were thwarted by the steep incline.

Forest Hiding Place
Forest Hiding Place

So I periodically retreated to my exoskeleton asylums as a sentry medium between earth and sky. I can never turn my mind off completely but within my secret hiding place the voices were kept to a low roar and bid to change direction and pace.

The last straw that broke the camels back came when my moronic addled brained cell-mate Pearl kept throwing her nasty, dirty towels, underwear and flip-flops over to my side of the room. When I returned from the canteen or our common dining area there were moldy wet towels plastered to the floor like throw rugs that accosted the dividing line between our two living areas.  Pearl was known as the filthiest female in our wing tossing food and drink to and fro fully expecting that a squad of personal maids and sweepers were following in her wake. One night after I returned from my many woodland sojourns I decided that I had, had enough and soaked all her grimy towels in gasoline and lighter fluid obtained from an unlocked supply closet near the motor pool.  Pearl had a tendency to drink like sailor on shore leave and sleep just as soundly so she never had an inkling as I piled the towels around her bed, built a kindling fort for good measure and added effect, led a fuse from a doorway to an open window, climbed out and lit said fuse.

The Kindling delivered me from The Family’s vocalizations. I tried to warn them before. I tried to silence the voices through escape, but it was not working so I had to try another plan. The crackles and pops of my campfire seem to be in sync with the screams and cries for rescue from the patients locked inside their rooms but eventually those voices will die out also, and then sleep.  Blessed sleep.

Love,

Cassandra Verity

Being In Total Control of Herself {B.I.T.C.H.}


Bad Ass Bitch Does Overtime ~ B.I.T.C.H. ~ Being in Total Control of Herself

Well those lazy hazy days of Summer have nearly come to an end and full swing overtime is in the house. It’s full speed ahead at the Gotham Art Gallery. Crazy hour’s Double shifts are back. Made it home before 2am despite the fact that the L Train tried to thwart my efforts. Made everyone get off to catch a Shuttle bus to the rest of the L Train line. Oh Joy the normal workings “Chaos of the MTA workings” driving Brooklynites crazy!!

Honey the cheese done slid off your cracker!

 

Asshole Repellent
Asshole Repellent

Kraftwerk – Trans Europe express

http://youtu.be/qBGNlTPgQII

Of course this being Brooklyn the wackos, drunks, hoes, druggies and mental cases were out in force. Brooklyn a borough inhabited by residents escaped from Flip Mode Squad and Insane Clown Posse.

I really thought two big psycho heifers were gonna throw down on the platform or in the Shuttle bus. I swear they take courses in Creative Cursing 101 because they called the MTA and their fellow riders, everything but a child of God. The kids riding the bus with their parents will have an entire new vocabulary in time for the start of school Sept. 9th.

Fully expected Old Skool dwarf rapper Bushwick Bill to make an appearance along with a strange new group called the Flatbush Zombies. I kid you not! Brooklyn, never a dull moment day or night!

MC Dee Righteous bids you a fond Good Night!

Baby Boy

Baby Boy Got $200 sneakers as a reward for cussing the teachers and failing in school. Teacher or principals fault. Grades all F but it ain’t me you fucked up can’t you see! School’s for Fools. Some place I don’t want to be.

Baby Boy he never wrong. They got it all mixed up seeing me strong. Y’all know I’m the King of my crew. God’s Gift to everything.

But in the back of your head all you can see is yo’ no count Daddy, welfare system and crackhead Momma staring back in the mirror saying you gonna be like me.

Hanging out in the upper class nabe with my hoodrat crew. See a few things I wanna take. Wait a minute! What’s that I hear! A siren in back of me. Starting to fear. Next thing I’m on Lock down in Juvie Hall. Where my crew at now when as I’m taking this fall.

 

Baby boy lying in a ditch. Off to Rikers to be somebody’s Bitch.

Baby Boy. You Done. You Done.

 

 

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover and Enjoy the ID Channel


Dumb Shit that Men Over 50 have said to me on dates or Why I Stop Dating Men and Started Dating the ID Channel.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

http://www.aarp.org/home-family/dating/info-03-2013/6-reasons-to-date-women-your-own-age.2.html

I want a woman who’s young and firm.

How you want a young woman who’s fit and trim when you resemble the Pillsbury Doughboy? And even if you have kept up your body with exercise, what happened to that Big 70s Afro you had back in the day? Hmmm…. I believe a little thing called balding has caught up with you. Looks like a job for Minoxidal. Oh yes can you do something about the nose and ear hair while you’re at it? Seems like the hair on your head has migrated to your olfactory and auditory systems. By the way did you notice you face has gotten a little craggy around the edges. I dare say most 20 & 30 somethings would find those things repulsive.

As for these Super-Size females in their 20s who are between 5 feet 1 and 5 ft 5 inches who weigh 200+ lbs at age 25 I daresay I’m more fit than they. Plus size is only cute until you hit 40 and find yourself weighed down by diabetes and on a respirator. Mickey D’s is a way of life for many 20 somethings who have never seen the inside of a kitchen except to step to the refrigerator and over to the micro-wave.

More Kids

Moron. You could barely afford the 3 or 4 crumb snatchers and rug rats you had during the 80s, why in the hell would you want more kids? You can’t even go up a flight of steps without breathing hard much less try to chase a toddler through the house. Heck if you really want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet I’m sure that those kids you had during the 1970s and 1980s will oblige you with grandchildren. At least you can give those little monsters back when you get tired of them.

Strutting down the street with a woman young enough to be your daughter or grand-daughter might seem good for a while until the young bimbo gets tired of your Geritol using, Viagra needy ass and moves onto men her own age who can actually satisfy her and will live longer.  In the evening before what you think will be a wild night of passionate love-making, seeing you take out your dentures to soak them in Polident will put the kibosh on any romantic endeavors.

And By the Way bubble head heifer will probably use Texting, Twitter or Facebook to break up with you. However as my beloved parents used to say, “There’s No Fool like an Old Fool.”

Conversations with the young hussy will only result in long drawn out explanations.  If your Reality Show Girlfriend does not remember or has not actually experienced the following, you’re in trouble.

Transistor Radios — portable and cool

Earth Shoes

S&H Green Stamps — Too much licking and sticking

Drive-In Movies — Dr. Zhivago

Ed Sullivan — I only really recall the little mouse Topo Gigo

Mitch Miller — Everyone in my neighborhood watched just to see Leslie Uggams.

Lawrence Welk – hated him, but my parents loved him so I had to watch

Records: 78s, 33 1/3rds, 45s

RCA Magnavox TV with the tubes

Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson

Rheingold Beer

Schaffer Beer

Wattstax

The Automat

Stick with me Mature Man we can Walk Down Memory Lane together with our Bifocals and I’ll laugh at your corny Laugh-In jokes.