Core Bullying

c-bully.com

(Dream) The two blonde Swedes in my taxicab are sitting right behind me, and when we reach the parking spot outside the garage, one of them grabs all the luggage and disappears into the building. The one girl behind me seems intent on finding her money, and I'm beginning to get the inkling trouble's brewing. We've come all the way from the airport, and all she can find, she says, is a twenty dollar bill. “All I'm trying to do is get back to the Boone Hotel,” she keeps saying. I look up at the garage in front of me. I thought this was the Boone Hotel. Then she takes off, too!

She's in a vehicle of some kind, and I take off after her. She dashes into a tunnel leading into the garage, and because of the wooden block spoiler on top of my taxicab, I'm blocked! I can't get in! She rounds a corner and comes out another tunnel. This is a nightmare! (Fin)

When it comes to bullying, you have to realize, Nobody smart does anything like that. Go back to your childhood and review the lives of all the bullies you've ever known, from your uncle on down. Nobody smart does anything like that.

To the extent a bully is paying attention to you, they are diminishing themselves. The way out is to find a Well of Stupidity inside yourself, and then plunge into that well. You will find a doorway into clarity down near the bottom. Try to be stupider than they are, if just for a moment.

So, I'm going to write about various things, and occasionally drop psychic stage directions of what to do about clear-cut bullies in the here and now. The mainstream is never going to tell you. They want everyone to participate in the Vague. “Oh,” the mainstream says, “we've got problems with bullies,” [hand-wringing]. “Oh,” the mainstream says, “and people are committing suicide and shooting up heroin,” [endless hand-wringing, nothing specific]. “We just don't know what to do about it!”

Occasionally the mainstream will conduct token interviews with friends and relatives. There'll be sound-morsels [related to sound-bites] interspersed with swelling pity music. To the mainstream, this is a “segment.”

We've been dealing with the mainstream for at least 300 years. It's enveloped everyone with time, with duration. It's cocooned us.

“More time than I think ...” I begin whenever anyone asks how long I've lived in San Francisco, “... The plunge! ... Lost & found ... So foolish ... On some long forgotten shore.” They regard me with contempt, realizing I'm not going to tell them, not now, not ever, not knowing I'm determined to break the spell of duration, being late, all that stuff. “More time than I think ...The plunge! ... I've had my time ... On my way ... Lost & found ... So foolish ... On some long forgotten shore ... Flexible hours ... In an instant ... It all unfolds ... It's timeless.”

I do go back. My encounters with core bullies began in Texas, when a guy stole my red fire truck, and the teacher in kindergarten gave my fire truck to the bully, thinking it belonged to him. I told mom after school, who said she'd get me another one. She never did. Next day we began our trip to North Carolina, for a new life ... with my stepfather.

Here's what's weird: In North Carolina another guy picked up the thread of being a bully, attacked me for sucking my thumb on the way home from school, from 2nd grade. A guy's got a right to suck his thumb, right? He and a posse came over to my front yard and jeered at me from right outside our home. Mom said I had to do something, so I raced out the door, ploughed into him, jumped on top of him, tried to kill him ... and he and his gang ran away.

So then we moved to St. Louis so my new sister could go to a school for the deaf, and I started sixth grade, and damned if another bully didn't pick up the thread. Tim Wheeler stalked me, circled around me as I was building a go-cart out of plywood. He wanted it. It made no sense. It was too heavy anyway. I endured it. Then I started seventh grade in another school. Tim Wheeler wasn't accepted, so I shed him, began playing football and stuff.

Then after college another guy came after me, tried to kill my girlfriend, then came after me when I rescued her. I raced up the stairs in the apartment building where she was living. Virginia screamed as loud as she could. I turned and charged into the guy, wrestled a moment, then jumped on top of him and tried to put out his eyes. I got up and when the guy came after me again, I decided the only thing to do was throw him off the balcony to his death, and when he looked into my eyes and knew that was exactly what I was going to do, he took off, fled the building. We got a restraining order on the guy next day ... but here's the point: What the fuck? What's with these people?

I really didn't realize until a few days ago that what they all were after was something which I desired. Which brings us to the present day. There's another bully in my life, maybe a few more, and I can see ... they all desire what I desire. It's some sort of psychic thing. I can feel it in my nervous system. So I'm playing a trick, and here's how it works: There's a real dog of a woman who works with my girlfriend, whom of course, I desire.

So I gaze at this coworker, this pig of a woman, and fill my heart with desire, and it works! When the bullies look at me, into my heart ... and see what I'm putting there, consciously, this desire for the dog, they get all confused. I can see it. I've been testing this for about a week now. It hasn't interfered with my actual desire for my girlfriend, when I'm around her, but it really messes up the bullies.

The way to get a bully off your back is to desire the undesirable! It's crazy, but it works. Let's call this, The Way of the Sly Dog! ... to desire a dog! You have to pick your dog wisely, though. Someone close to your actual girlfriend ... to let the dog stand guard to your heart.