#51 It’s a funeral procession.

I’m gravely disgusted.

Mainly triggered. First by images of the neighborhood, “Checking me at the door.” This was gravely horrifying. The first thing I felt was violation. They are invasive. Intentionally, intrusive. And, it’s meant to be intruding. I doubt they know what they do, but the so-called “people” are performing patterned behaviors aimed at signaling a hostile takeover.

The Denis dude at the library also caused this “checking” feeling. His teeth or tongue clicking was the sound of something corrupt-ed and pervert-ed.

What I struggle to process most is the meaning beneath these experiences. Objectively, he (or they) acted to provoke a reaction in me. Subjectively, I’m seized not by thoughts but by an idea— that what I’m seeing is his (or their) own nervous‑system(s). 

I call it paradoxical, yet it isn’t really a contradiction at all: objectively, they appear the aggressor; subjectively, their bodies register as the one under threat. My repulsion toward them—or perhaps their fear of appearing repulsive—triggers an awkward feedback between us, a failed act of co‑regulation. The result isn’t paradox but stagnation. 

It’s the absence of sound, actually.

I want to also mention the whole conference experience. I did not hate the hotel staff, at all. In contrast, the men and boys at the gas station–they looked like toy soldiers–were blatantly disrespectful. All of the people at the conference, itself, were weird. Particularly: 

• That Jeremy-like dude who mustered up the courage to come and “huff” or “grunt” at me in a room of at least 27 – 35 people after sitting in a pouting body position for about 20 -25 minutes;
• The hospitality department chair guy who kept making comments/claims directed at me on a stage, with an audience of 52 – 70 people; (this is strikingly similar to the guest speaker from the Hotel Revenue Management course, Patrick something at the hotel on Gravier where he is boasting about calling “…black women sweetie for marketable attention…” – in SO many words, in a public education setting, of a last 8 – 9 people.)
• Why did the foreign chick hold my hand for so long and then start ignoring me? Did she read my palm? What exactly did she ‘see’ or not ‘see’ in me? Worshop. Room of 55+ people.
• That bitch who “performed” invading my space for the other Asians… Luckily, the one she performed it to could see her and not me. This is a blessing. Table of 7-9, ballroom with 80+.
• What was Mufusa talking about for so long and why: …56 – 74.
• That waving string of events started at this event. Which has now involved upwards of 300+ people.

I hated all of the Uber Drivers, kinda. The first was excellent. I can’t even remember him. He didn’t help me with my bags, but he was really old. The woman was okay – and a bit creepy. The old man playing gospel music was my favorite. The Enterprise dude was a closeted [redacted.]

I’ll leave Llyod out since I filed a report. Fuck everybody at Goodyear, except the one dude really trying to do a job. The rest are creepy. Bryan is outright stupid.

I am dead. This is perfect.