Interview with a Psychopath Video

April 5, 2011


Glen or Mikiko? I was Teenage Asian Girl

February 14, 2011

This is a story I wrote in 2005 and it appears along with other various stories, journals and poetry in my book called Dangers of a Confessional Mind published by LuLu books.

 

Friday, February 04, 2005

 

Glen or Mikiko?

I felt like the dude in Kafka’s Metamorphosis. I awoke this morning on my bed in a different form. I wasn’t a bug or caterpillar or anything like that. I looked down at my tan body and my small frame with shock and terror. As I started my morning ritual of scratching my balls and giving my dick a few quick tugs, I couldn’t find them. I looked down and there was a black mound of hair with a slit between my legs. My chest hair was gone and I had small petite breasts with brownish nipples. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I tried to go back to sleep assuming this was just another nightmare from watching another Katashi Miike movie before I fell asleep. I couldn’t sleep.

 

I sat up on my bed and lit a cigarette with my little thin fingers. I took a few drags and ran to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. My face changed too. My eyes were slanted and brown. My lips were full and my nose was wider and flatter. I ran my fingers through my long black hair. I was looking at a beautiful young Asian girl in the mirror and it was me. I remembered that story I read in National Lampoon magazine when I was thirteen about the guy who woke up one morning and he was girl. I remember wishing it was me. I wanted to feel what it was like to be a woman. I wanted to feel my breasts and vagina and look in the mirror. That was when I was thirteen.

 

I thought about my friend Harry telling me last night that he thinks that our friend Robert should live his life as a woman. I thought of the countless times my friend Kevin has said “If I had a clit, I’d never leave the house.” I thought of how jealous I was that my friend Dave looked really good in drag.

 

Here I am. I’m a  hot young Asian girl. How am I going to explain this to everyone at work. I’ll have to call out. What will I do for money? What will I tell my girlfriend, Stacy? I hope she’ll still love me as girl. I hope she likes Asian girls. I hope my cousins (roommates) don’t want to fuck me. I’m going to have to get a new drivers license. I thought about going to a doctor. I don’t have any insurance. Will anyone believe me? I wonder if my parents will still love me. I don’t have any clothes to wear either.

 

When I fantasized about this as a kid, it was a sexual thing. As an adult, reality is overwhelming me. Sex was the last thing on my mind until I decided to just stay in my room all day with a mirror. I called out from work. They said my voice sounded funny. I said I was really sick and tried to speak in the lowest tone available to my new body. I called Harry first because he was the only one who would actually believe what happened.

 

“You should enjoy it first. Then see how you feel tomorrow and maybe see a doctor.” he said.

 

Ok. That’s what I’ll do. I called Stacy next and told her I need to speak with her as soon as possible.

 

“What’s wrong with your voice?” she asked.

 

“I’m still sick. You’ll see when you get here tonight.”

 

I took care of the immediate. I needed cigarettes. I had to sneak out without my cousin’s seeing me. I put on some pants and a hoody. Neither of which fit. My clothes were double my size now. I walked to the corner store and tried not to draw any attention to myself. It was run by Koreans. The small teenage girl at the register said something to me in Korean. I didn’t understand her.

 

“Sorry. I thought you were Korean.” she said.

 

“I am Italian.” I said. She laughed.

 

I actually had no idea what I was. I mean I know what I was not what I am now. The boy in the back of the store was staring at me. When I looked at him he winked at me. I felt scared and I felt kind of good. I got my cigarettes and a cup of coffee and walked home fast. I went up to my room and avoided my cousins. I lay on my bed and prayed. I was calmer. Ready to accept this. For now anyway.

 

I took off my jeans and hoody and examined my self thoroughly. I relaxed some more. I gently touched myself everywhere. My nipples were more sensitive than ever. My stomach was flat. I touched my vagina and it was wonderful. I’ve never felt anything like it in my whole life. Just the slightest touch on my new clitoris and my body surged with excitement. I felt like I did the first time I ever masturbated. I looked down at my tiny frame. My small breasts. My skinny legs. I watched my hand rub and stroke. Within minutes I exploded in an orgasm better than any I’d felt before. I collapsed and laid there for about five minutes I was ready for more.

 

Wow. I can orgasm over and over. I did. I finally fell asleep from sexual exhaustion. I slept for the next six hours. I awoke with a knock on my bedroom door. It was Stacy. Fuck. I wasn’t ready to tell her. Show her my new body. I was in a panic. I sat up and felt something against my thigh. I looked and it was my penis hanging under my flabby hairy belly. I was myself again. I sighed in relief and lit a cigarette as Stacy walked in my bedroom.

 

“Hey, what did you want to tell me?” she asked.

 

“You wouldn’t believe the dream I just had.”


Day 3 of No Job Training. A Loser or a Sick Person?

January 22, 2011

Well the decision was made or not made. Not sure at this point. Either way I didn’t go into work today. Read my previous blogs to catch up if you haven’t. Maybe I need to over the situation one more time for myself so bear with me..

 

I was at the end of the line with my financial resources. I had just enough in the bank after cashing in my 401ks and the little unemployment I receive to pay a few months rent. I pushed it to the limit and my friend suggested I try doing collections where he worked because they were considering offering employees to work from home. Remote calling I believe it’s called. I liked this because my car is old and not running at it’s best.

 

It took weeks from the suggestion to get the interview back in November 2010. It went well because I have 10 years experience in telephone sales. I discovered that I was going to have to travel there and working from home wouldn’t be a possibility for several months. The manager told me he would call me the next week and I would start work either the last week of December 2010 or the first week of January 2011. I was excited. I thought I was. From what I heard I could make a lot more money than I’ve made in along time. Great.

 

The first week went by and not phone call so I called the manager. He apologized and said it’s real busy and he would call me next week. Next week came and I called him once on Wednesday and left a message and then on Friday and left another message, My friend said that the manager told him he was going to call. To sum it up it was several weeks before I knew anything and that was because my friend bugged the manager and I got the confirmation in a forwarded email. No phone call. So I was finally supposed to start this past Tuesday. I got a phone call from the manager Monday to postpone my start date to Wednesday.

 

Meanwhile, after a 2 year remission of a chronic facial disorder I have came back. It’s called Trigeminal Neuralgia(TM). Refer to my previous blogs about it or look it up. It’s known as the worst pain known t man. It was the reason I quit telephone sales over 8 years ago. I had to go back on pain medications again. My sleep pattern has been screwed up since last Thursday because of the pain and the meds. I also suffer the usual anxiety that seems to creep up on me for no reason a lot of times.

 

I made it to my first day of training barely on time with a decent sleep under my belt. It went decent. I still had anxiety and face pain. I went home and was excited or I thought I was excited to get through the training and start making money. I couldn’t get to sleep until 2 am Thursday morning. I didn’t have to be in work until 10:30 am and it seemed like no problem except I was still in pain and on my meds as directed I might add. I kept waking up through the night. I got up around 5 or 6 am and stayed up for an hour then went back to sleep. I woke up at 12:10 pm in panic. I called the manager immediately and left a message on his cell phone to see if I should bother coming in. I called again on his business line 30 minutes later. I called my friend that worked there who happened to be on vacation. He told me to just go in. I would be 3 hours late. It made no sense. I called 2 more times before I made the trip. He answered and said he was disappointed and how I missed the most important part of the training. Then the phone was disconnected. I heard the “firing” tone in his voice. I called him back 2 or 3 times with no answer. I am convinced he hung up on me.

 

So I went through every possible emotion yesterday and then talked to a friend about it. I really didn’t want to tell anyone. He told me I should just go in on time on Friday to see what would happen. I was convinced I was done. I called another friend that agreed that I should go in. All I had to lose was a long drive. I was going back and forth on it all night. My face got worse. My anxiety got worse. I was determined to go to sleep early and get up early and make the decision then. Yes. I am still awake and still in pain. I didn’t go. My face pain and anxiety made the decision for me. I’m 99% sure I was already fired anyway,

 

I spent the past 2 months fantasizing, planning and setting goals based on the potential money I would have made there. I wanted to invest it in my other projects, pay off bills and save money. Now I’m back to square 1 wondering if I can keep any job between my anxiety, my TM, my Bipolar disorder and apparently a sleeping problem.

 

I really have changed. I admit that I have always judged people that didn’t work for a living. I couldn’t understand people that were unemployed, collecting social security, disability or on welfare. I didn’t understand people that had anxiety disorders, mental illnesses, social problems and even in some cases chronic pain disorders that I can’t see. I understood physical handicaps like blindness, in wheelchairs, etc. Now I’ve become one of the people I used to judge and didn’t understand. I have a day-to-day struggle trying to understand myself. I don’t. I don’t understand my illnesses both physical and mental.

 

I’m not writing this and telling you this for sympathy or to get attention. I write what’s on my mind and post it out of a compulsion. It’s the way I think out loud sometimes. Times like this I hesitate posting it knowing that you may judge me the way I judged others in my position.

 

I was raised with a work ethic believe it or not. I still exercise it everyday by writing and creating and consistently promoting and managing my websites etc. That’s my problem with identifying and relating to my current conditions. My adopted parents raised me to get to work on time and do my job to the best of my abilities. I hear m mother’s voice telling me to work. She has said judgmental things like “I don’t want you to be one of those people that doesn’t work and lives off of the system.” The problem is I agree with her and I think I am fine and then I am not fine. I am not fucking fine.

 

I am in a long process of learning and trying to understand myself and what’s wrong with me and what’s right with me. What are my limitations? What can I work through. I get all kinds of advice bout my diet, my cigarette smoking, lack of exercise, etc. That’s fine. I’m sure all that would help but there is much more going on.

 

I’m not miserable. I have a lot of happy moments. It’s just a struggle in my head and my body at times that I have to deal with.

 

My main concern right now is whether I will be able to handle working a real job or not. This TM can go into remission for 10 years to the rest of my life or it can continue forever. I have a friend that has had over 6 surgeries to treat her TM. My mental problems can be controlled to a point with medication and awareness of it.

 

I have full confidence that my immediate bills will be paid and I can figure out a way to make money on my own without a “job”. I’m just not there yet and I have to keep on keeping on and deal with my issues. That’s it for now I guess. Thanks for reading.


A Sneak Preview of The Best of The Serial Killer Coloring Book

August 8, 2010

Here’s a small sample of whats in The Best of The Serial Killer Coloring Book.

Order here.

Order Now!!

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/the-best-of-the-serial-killer-coloring-book/12104405


The Best of The Serial Killer Coloring Book

August 7, 2010

At last after seven years of waiting The Serial Killer Coloring Books are available again in one collected volume. From the crude drawings and bios in the first issue to the more polished work in later issues. It includes letters from killers, activities like crossword puzzles and find a word, interviews with famous authors and the killers themselves, artwork from the killers and much more. Only available online through LuLu Books.

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/the-best-of-the-serial-killer-coloring-book/12104405

Buy The Best of the Serial Killer Coloring Book now!


Delete Me: A Poem & Spoken Word Video

July 31, 2010

I wrote the following loosely based on my last entry. I also made a vido for it you can find on the bottom of the page.

Delete me. Go ahead delete me. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Carry your gun in the waist band of your stretch pants that won’t stretch any more if your tried and you tried. A gun that you use in the wrong places with the wrong people and the wrong intentions. It’s not even loaded. The gun. Not you. Loaded.

Delete me from your world from your cancer from your bloody sounded heart that you think is screaming but it only cries for more love. Love you can’t have.

Stick your pencil between your eyes and twist it as you open and close your eyelids slobbering my name while kissing a tree that will never understand you like me.

Delete me. Delete. Go ahead. It’s ok. Delete me.

Push the panic button and no one comes running anymore because they’re tired of your boy cry wolf mentality. Too many false alarms for anyone to understand. I understand. It’s ok. You can let go now.

Delete me from your heart and fill it with vengeance and hatred. Kill. Destroy.

Run for the hills little one while you still have a chance to get away from me. Or do you? Am I always there?

Distracting yourself with THINGS that keep you busy. THINGS that do nothing for anyone except distract you from me. Me. THINGS.

Delete me as you drive over the speed limit racing to anywhere that you don’t have to feel anything.

What kind of God allows you to feel this way? What are you doing? Why? Who do you think you are? Ok so maybe even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe you can self help yourself and forgive God for leaving you alone. Maybe your cancer isn’t so bad. Maybe the wounds will heal. Maybe your heart will soften over time. Time. Time to reveal yourself to the ancient ones in a language you don’t speak. Time to stop running. Let go. Let go!

Delete me. Delete me. Delete me.

Are you finished yet?

I am still here.


Change and Serial Murder

July 21, 2010

Change. Like it or not I change. I grow even when I don’t want to. Sometimes I slip down and fall and have to climb back up but it’s still a change and it always leads to more growth. They say hindsight is 20/20 but I disagree. Personally, my hindsight is delusional. I look back and see things better than they really were. Thank God I’m a writer. Thank God I can look back and read what I was thinking and how I was behaving in the past. Thank God I have friends and family that remind me of what I was.

One of my close friends is always telling stories about things I did to him in the past. Not to put me down but because he finds the humor in it now. I don’t even remember half of the stories until he is halfway through. He was a less tolerant person full of anxiety and I apparently was an insensitive prankster. I won’t tell you the specifics because: a) they aren’t important and b) you might talk to him one day.

The reason this topic came to mind today is that I am going through my infamous Serial Killer Coloring Books and looking at these sometimes vivid drawings I did and the drawings the murderers have done and the crimes they have committed. I am compiling all of the issues into one book and have been going through them page by page looking and reading. I was shocked by some of the things that I’ve said and the drawings I’ve done. Imagine that. Me? Shocked. It happens. It made me question whether I want to re-publish it or forget about it. I worked so hard on those comics that I hate to see it go to waste. I poured my heart and soul into it.

I’ve spent years defending myself as to why I took an interest in serial killers enough to draw, write and form a band that sings about them. I understood why completely. Even in my delusional state of mind I have some awareness of what’s really going on in my head and heart. I always looked at what I did as an over the top exploitation of the exploitation of murder and true crime. I never thought that they were cool like I’ve been accused of. The truth of the matter is that I was secretly identifying with the serial killer. I didn’t identify with the desire to murder but with the common obsession and addiction. I have many addictions but most are harmful to myself. I have no desire or even fantasy of raping, murdering or cannibalism. I found it fascinating that there are real life “monsters” out there that not only fantasize but act out on it. Why? What makes them different?

I’ve believed that anyone could be a serial killer under certain circumstances. We are all just one gene or one spanking in our childhood away from it. I have mental illness in my natural family genes so of course I have a mental illness. A treatable one. A controllable one but I still have it. After being raised by a paranoid schizophrenic mother for 8 years I found  myself seeking other “crazy people in my life especially girlfriends.

As I grow older I find myself dealing with my issues and growing away from it. I’ve also lost interest in serial killers. I don’t write about them or draw them or even think about them except when I perform because most of my songs are about them. I look at it differently now. Now I’m going through some of my drawings and I can’t believe that I’m the same person.

The big question on my mind is do I abandon my previous creations? Ignore them like they never happened. My gut tells me to embrace my past and everything I’ve created good and bad. I don’t really think that anything I’ve done has brought any bad energy or karma into the world. I still don’t think that writing, drawing or singing about murder is going to influence anyone negatively or make them do bad things unless they are already inclined to do so. I used to say “serial killers don’t have time to read about or listen to songs about serial killers. They’re too busy serial killing.” It’s true. True crime buffs don’t commit murders. It’s usually the seemingly “nice” guy that lives next door to you, sits next to you at work, rides the train with you to work, cooks your food at a restaurant or maybe even your lover or family member.

There has always been an internal struggle with me as to letting go or holding back in my creative endeavors. I’ve mentioned this over and over. I always come to the same decision. I always do the same thing. I decide that I will be an open book and talk and write about anything and then I hold things back anyway. Sometimes I censor and sometimes I don’t. Hopefully, my work is appreciated either way. Hopefully, I keep appreciating my work either way. After all, I am my biggest critic and my biggest fan.


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