I am saying no more, for once. Sort of speechless, who would have ever thought something like that would every happen to me, of all people? Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life , I am sure and that is saying a great deal, particularly considering the fact that I was abused and tortured as a child (proven by the way, in many ways, all scientific) I was reduced to ashes but I did do what I always do- when reduced to ashes I emerge as a phoenix. It is ancient that phenomena, told throughout the ages, even preceding the revelations which came through the Angel Gabriel to Mohammed. I have come out of the ashes, today is a Phoenix day, I do not weep but If tears fell down my cheeks they would be tears of joy, not tears of sorrow. I immediately go back to a day, after my return to the USA but before my return to Marin. It was a lunch with an old, old friend. Old because of his age and old because of the length of our friendship. We met for lunch in a restaurant that has since closed, but did close before the pandemic I think it was called the Il Fornario and was the meeting place of a lunch group (organized by me of course) called the McAuley Mavericks. Three consistent men (who showed up every week) and Denise, who showed up when she felt like it. We had great fun, met monthly, fell off our chairs laughing. I came back after five years of London/Vancouver and all of the staff remembered me and welcomed me with open arms. So I was back on a visit, called one of the members, Jim Krajeski and we met for lunch. The others had dispersed and without me, never did get it together to meet after my departure for parts known (London, Vancouver). Jim and I met alone – he had assisted me on the blog, he had a nickname (do not they all???) Cannot recall it at the present time. Had lunch with him, alone in his home, at one point and he introduced the idea that I was driven.
Me: Driven? Why do you say that? I am not driven.
He: Alexis, look at your life and your accomplishments. How can you say that you are not driven?
Me: (laughing) I cannot believe that I have not seen this. Of course, I am driven.
So we had been close. Met for lunch, all the waiters (as I was a regular) admired me greatly and came by to visit. Jim became increasingly agitated, I told him about what was happening in my life at the time and began to cry – tears of joy actually. He suddenly stood, saying that he was going to leave, before lunch had been served.
He: I am leaving! I can not stand this! You are being labile. Laughing and joking and then crying.
Me: But those are tears of joy not of sorrow.
He: No they are not!
Me: How would you know? You are not me and you are a psychiatrist! Not with much contact with patients later in your life, but still!!
He stormed off, paid for his own portion of the bill and left. Needless to say I never saw him again. Nor did I blog it at all, I do not think. How cruel of you, Jim Krajeski, MD – how cruel you were to me that day. I tried to make sense of your sudden attack and then, one day, with help from Wise Man, realized what had happened. I thought he was my friend and he was, when I was compliant and weak, but change did come to me during my time in London and Paris and my ability to set myself free of narcissistic men. I had become rather powerful, and gay men do not like women very much, much less powerful ones. I am not using nicknames anymore to protect the guilty. That is a play on Dragnet by the way, the old television program.
I am intending to use the names of all those who have wronged me. Why should I protect you? You did not protect me. You know who you are and I have photographs of many of you. Your secrets are no longer safe with me. You must be exposed, you must be. Your cruelty does not stop with me but is spread about – but no one confronts you.
For some reason, not clear at this second – this reminds me of the spectacle of the National Day of Qatar – where the armaments would scare anyone – and did. The Emir of Qatar does clearly know what he is doing. I mentioned it on my blog and three days later an article in Al Jazeera confirming my insights. Now that is strange – Al Jazeera is owned by the government of Qatar and the Emir is the government of Qatar. His family is darling – met them in a humble hotel in London.
The wonderful cake for a wonderful little girl who lives so close to me. She was celebrating her fourth birthday in these lock down conditions. Her Uncle, also a resident of this complex, was coming to watch her open presents by social distancing. We had a wonderful time chatting, she, her brother, mother and father and the babysitter. Then I walked the few steps to my apartment – after I took a photograph of her cake.
What is sad, and glad is that my former grandchildren live close by. I am alienated from them due to their cruelty toward me. But I would name them but it is unfair to the children. So some slight anonymity for the children. I am no longer Granny Alexis to them but I am to many members of the Royal Family of Qatar. I always tell the truth but my family of origin and members of a subsequent family of my association never did. In the extreme, sometimes it appeared that they did not know how to distinguish the truth from lies.
Thus spoken by Granny Alexis, aka Baby, aka Alya. My Muslim name given to me by a member of the Royal Family of Qatar.
Picture is of the four year old’s birthday cake. It is a bunny. I should have asked for a piece. Hahaha
