The Manhattan Project

First of all, my death sentence (“there will be no reprieve”) is way died down.

I wrote about it my post the other day (“Lawsuit Against Johns Hopkins”).

I said it was per God.

I realized today that it was per my father, who I thought was “God” per an incident that I can’t go into at this time.

I have been figuring this out over the last few days.

So, over the Johns Hopkins lawsuit, I realized that my father held me responsible for crimes against my family. He himself wanted to die me at that time, as oft in the past, and Hopkins, personally, Dr. Lipsey, just sat by and let him. Lipsey said, in this regard (I realize now) “Hopkins can’t help everybody.” But then he did.

My father rightly (or wrongly) came to revile him after that as an evil being along the same proportion as Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini. These evil beings from World War II were a PROBLEM for my Daddy in that he COULD NOT forgive them and let the War heal for him. It was worse about Hopkins and that is one of the underlying principles that was working in this malpractice.

So, I am reading in the brief summary of the Manhattan Project, simply, that it “ended World War II,” and I am remembering the debate about Truman dropping the bomb on Hiroshima, in Asian Studies at Kent School, where we settled that about it in the Spring Term of 1979.

So, I watched that movie about King Kong and I was so drawn to the image of the man kissing the woman at the end after that poor beast fell off the building, of course, everyone would have been. That was the 2005 version that Alex and I watched in Seminole I believe.

But, that was before World War II, the original, 1933 version. Maybe that was about letting go of World War I, and then, World War II started to wind up.

So, today, my father is waiting to win the Nobel Peace Prize per me (per God) and I am wondering what he is going to say in his speech when he does. That is why I am writing this. Just trying to grease the wheels a little bit.

I see it as him and my ex being two hi-tech spies, a monk (my husband, rather; not my ex); my father is very worldly, a people-pleaser, a Bond, as stated; trying to die the war down; but I saw them rocking into escalating a possible, pending war toward nuclear holocaust and I am hear to die that down.

I myself may be dying, now, I am a core on two stumps with a face neither man nor woman. Just too much impossible pain “under” the mole/wart “under” the Haldol and drugs like it for four decades. And impossible childbirth after a painful abortion at thirteen and then two horrible abortions of two compensatory pregnancies and then almost dying in childbirth of my “atonement child” (this is all per Project Rachel, a Catholic post-abortion counseling group that I completely endorse.) The last, my living son, is the one child out of my “collection” that I possess and will leave him my worldly gifts of life, love, and happiness.

So, my son has been the treasure of my life, my friend, and I do not want to let go of him. Tonight I have been sitting on the stairs, the spiral, wooden stairs built for my grandmother but designed in my mothers head donkeys’ years ago (35) when I got out of Wernersville State Hospital after the horrible “clamped-catheter” surgery described in a recent post. At the time my grandmother moved in, my mother put in a beautiful, stamped, tin lantern that was echoed in a print that Sister Marie showed me of Jesus knocking at the door when i went to her for baptismal counseling in 2018. She was so lovely. Tonight my old psychoanalyst “Jack” from Cambridge has been with my in my head, I realized that he was here to take me to Heaven and I started to go but then I had to get up to piss and realized that I could be doing this for months. I realized that I would not be going to the apartment [near here]; but, rather, need to stay here near this staircase.

So…