The End

Hit Her

A girl chooses chock.

Home is a pest.


Men good when barter


Mick is cruel.



Okay, my friend Warren from graduate school is a Harvard professor.

He theorizes about religion and secularization in relation to Marx.

Sounds like a part(y)

Interesting?

I can be helped, I just don't like creasts.

Maybe that's all







Hope

Heifer cries for drugs.

Bother Why

Feelings

A no one says, "Julia."

I like to rest.

Me sock

Take it; feel.

A shock is helpful.



A park resembles Baby.




Calm, feminine, baby.




I guess too much is too much.





Members feel a true pride in hustling.
Me cry for heifer.




Straw is type; girl, like home.



My feelings of inadequacy have led to self-abuse.

It's home.





Pint of freedom.

Julia typed argot.


Maybe I will choose my friends to be free.




That's goddess.



Perhas life knows good and passion.







Taste fried prawns.





I she mustard.



Bones like Will.




Treat me like I'm Julia



Maybe I shave mess.



Happy?




College cries chock.






I poke.




Foam.



Teach lesson And love


Okay, I wrote.

Also, I made people treat me like I was home.


Mothers are poem


A him to stack.



Fuck.


A nether poem.


And

A woman, a man, a gender

Creating followers.

Being here is money

And that's prostitution.


I choose loving forks.

Women do what me.

Anger likes nothing.

I like babies.

They are good.

I need to be cunt.

Maybe that's why I felt changed.

Start liking a homosexual.

Friends continue to love; goddesses are her; Julia can hope.

I can do better.

Hustling conned mother.

I can fence.

Maybe love changes life.

Fame is heifer.

Pain does not make good things.

I am feeling a little happier.

I know what it is: It's being pecked.

There's a lot to like about my life.

Senses
Freedom
Being here.


I'm glad that you have been a moose.

I feel like a Pagan.

Now I have to start.

Anger has
No reward

Giving's life
No more strife







.

Sexuality

I changed

it hurts

The Shire was my own

Stiff, afraid

Weird

I loved it

Men don't trust me

It's better that way

Blimey

I can hit people, and then it hurts, but I don't like it.

Possibilities



I want you to hold me.

I loved it.








Mothers are dark



No one part/side can/must have the initiative.

I like myself

I share what I am by listening



My best to you

I listen/I teach/I love

I liked chasing pain

Because it worked


I listen to you because you want it.



Doing is not money
That makes me a bitch



I need you to listen to.



Peach, Pear, Par.


A park of woman











That's mothers mess.

A fare is changed.






I'll dust it off

And girl.



No need to do it: just find.


I feel better (again)


If you want to know , I'm okay.



Yours,

c*

sureties

And now for the main acts of the show.

"Love" or a facsimile of it is often an ingredient in the tricking or "persuasion" of others to act in such a way that pleases someone else.

Being here in Southern AZ has highlighted for me changes that I thought gave me hope.

I knew that staying here would make me less inclined to like myself.

There's no straw, no tribe, no entity, no lovers, no creation that makes me know how to

--

I don't like people when I feel like I'm --

under pressure to feel happy.

There's only two ways to know what goes on. One is to live, the other is to break.

I preferred to live; however, breaking (others or objects or conventions or relationships, etc. etc.) leads to trying to make strength only the way that I like.


Plays on friendship.

It's been done.


cstar is the way for me to hate without understanding how to know that is wrong.

So I have to stop.

Creation

My own people -- you -- teach me that I can't like only friends who are happy and friendly.

I do like me.

cstar (Julia/brigidjoy) types this sentence to say decency preaches, life answers with charges.

I am targeting anyone who prefers to like home rather than pain.

That's not good.

Sharing anger is not good either.

Nothing but change is free.

I make life worse because there's no sex, no crying, no father.

I asked to be my father's target.

I need to make happiness like feelings.

Some people including DOD (Dear Old Dad) didn't apparently need feelings to be happy.

I'm not good at making change by giving.

I loved him, but he wanted a man.

Why revisit this nauseating painful aspect of my life?

Because only this can change what makes my sexuality painful.

You make me act like I am painful.

I'm acting because I need to live.

I prefer to make you my pests/prisoners/ kind interlocutors.

I would like you to understand that only I say woman can live as friend.

I just can't pay.

Cute.

It's better to like what you are.

I'm charging because I need to give my presence a name.

I'm Julia.
I like to understand.

Goddesses.

It's better to begin with fairness.

It's better to hope that my mother is a woman.

I like that.

I do change.

It's been too long since I have.

What is changing?

I paid people to be my friends.

I'M a nothing trying to give strength so I can be a feeling.

But being a woman is not a feeling.

blowjobs make me feel like I'm a client.

I prefer to make love, not pay cocksuckers to be happy.

My life is fucked.

Adios

Julia Brigid Murray

Today

Today I woke up at 2:00 a.m. (having gone to bed about 7:30 p.m.) and had a cup of coffee, guaranteeing that I would stay awake.

I really don't remember most of what was going through my mind, but it seemed vastly important and pivotal, at least to me, as usual. I think I watched CNN.

I know I started doing laundry about 5:00 in the morning.

Then about 7:00 I woke my mother so I could go for a walk (which I try to do twice a day -- 20 minutes). I went to the circle k convenience store and bought some coffee and some aspirin in case of cardiovascular breakage. The woman there asked me if I wanted "something else" referring to the fact that yesterday I bought a shot of E&J early. I decided not to have anything else. Yay!

I walked home, as usual consciously wondering how to conduct myself in public view. How were drivers reacting to me as they saw me. Other questions went around and around also.

By the time I returned home I was exhausted.

I did some television watching of the weather channel and Good Morning America off and on with my mother. I frequently checked my mail and wrote some emotional things to RW.

As the day went on, my mother and I got ready for her to take me to the pharmacy, where I was to pick up a new medication and a refill of an old one. The woman at the counter gave us two hours to wait, so we went to Radio Shack then Wal-mart where I bought a new phone having lost the charger to my old one, also a dress, also a soda for me and lunch for my mother.

By the time we got the drugs and returned home it was a quarter past two.

The dress looked good.

I had planned to wear it tonight to a mentally ill group but I didn't though I had promised someone I would be there. That's from a combination of impending rain and a spicy soup I ate that somehow changed my mood.

I've been having some chest twinges on and off since about 4:00. It's now about 6:30.

I've taken my last Ativan.

Tomorrow I begin generic Klonopin.

My roommate in the state hospital used to take Klonopin. She used to write down the name with the feminist fist sign replacing the "o"s . I hear she was there at least two years after I left. She was a really strong feminist, loved Bob Dylan, but was very demanding of energy from others. Sounds a little like my self-idealization with certain real-world modifications.

Antonia called, hasn't called back. Hmm.

Also spoke to John Walde from catskill. He may need intravenous iron. I also told him about Calvin, whom I believe may be dying.

Seems to be going around?

I'm really glad my mother and I are able to spend time together. I've managed to curb my often incredible degree of irritation at her fastidiousness. I hope I am able to maintain a relationship with her for a while.

There's reading to do, but I may just lie down.

See, I can write of the daily round.

Love to all,

c*mare a/k/a brigidjoy a/k/a you know.