Diary of a Marked Woman

Diary of a Marked Woman

Paris, June 2005

Wed. the 1st I've read in an article by Kaminski that some of the explosions in Baghdad that kill so many civilians and that seemed hitherto so senseless, are caused by the US forces themselves planting bombs. A man who witnessed some GI's planting a bomb in a popular Baghdad district and talked about it after the explosion was taken away and hasn't come home since. here's the article. It is so totally sickening!

I've also read recently how before the USUK invasion of Iraq these two countries bombed Iraq repeatedly in an attempt to provoke Saddam Hussein to answer in kind, giving the aggressors a justification for their invasion:The Other Bomb Drops by Scahill (the Nation).

It's not the first time that I find a parallel in the modus operandi of the imperial powers or the crime families' and my parents' m.o. Yes, how many of their acts were intended to provoke me to retaliate, giving them a good excuse to give their cruelty free rein under pretext of educating me? But I knew what they were up to and I didn't retaliate.

And as if the situation were not bad enough, the US is now using death squads like it did in El Salvador in the 1980's:The Salvador Option in Iraq. by Sam Fuller of globalresearch.ca

Oh, and by the way, it's not 1,600 dead GI's but 9,000 dead, according to iraqwar.mirror-world.ru. I read somewhere that Iraqis have found cadavers wrapped in US-made plastic (can you imagine the stench of a decomposing body wrapped in plastic?) in the waters and the desert and from the size of the bodies and the well-cared-for teeth, they could identify the bodies as not being Iraqi (of course the years of sanctions have had consequences on people's dental health too) but Western. Since November 2004 there have been reports of helicopters dumping bodies at night in remote areas in the pre-dawn hours. The US policy is to dump bodies that are burned or otherwise destroyed beyond recognition. The Pentagon doesn't see why they should go to the expense of rapatriating a body if the person's kin can't recognize it, so now the GI's who patrol Iraq are terrorized that they'll die burned and that their body will be dumped in the desert. Iraqi farmers have buried the bodies in mass graves. And here too (in pdf).

But what an utterly disgraceful way for the US to treat its war dead! The horror of it, of the whole Iraq nightmare approaches the horror of the Final Solution. What with DU condemning the entire biosphere, not only the people but also the animals, the camels, the sheep, the donkeys, the birds, to horrible birth defects, early cancer onset,... this is more than genocide, it is biocide without precedent in History.

Mon. the 6th I remember so well how I could feel them -Dad or Mom- waiting for me to do something i knew was bad just to please them, to confirm their theory or criminal fate, and me, in the only display of power I could muster at that age, showing them by NOT DOING the wrong thing that they were mistaken, as if I were saying to them "You see, I can refrain from doing something I know is bad so my acts depend on my free will, not on some irrepressible compulsion like you want me to believe." But of course it was all unspoken for I didn't have such a vocabulary at that age. It was almost pre-verbal as I was just learning to speak. Still, I find it amazing that at such a tender age I was already pondering these issues of free will, of responsibility, and of power, and exercing the only power I had which was of not doing (very Zen, by the way).

I remember wondering, while sitting alone in the apartment in Annecy, for I had no toys and the only thing I could do to entertain myself was to think, what was the big difference between grownups (what we called "les grandes personnes") and children besides their size and age, and I determined that adults had the possibility to make decisions and give orders. So of course I wanted some of that power for myself, and when I was ordered to do things I didn't like I always thought "When I'm grownup I'll do what I want, and I'll have nobody to boss me around!" And believe me I've been careful not to let anybody infringe on that right. At least no husband to "submit" to, as ordered by the Catholic Church. No boss either to kowtow to. Too bad my folks are totalitarian psychopaths who can't accept individual freedom.

My leg is improving somewhat, as I'm better able to put some weight on it, but my ankle is very stiff. I can't trust my leg to walk without crutches yet.

I've continued cleaning and cooking lately. The apt was so dusty. A lot of dust and black car exhaust powder comes in through the cracks in the windows. But I appreciate the effort I'm spared since I stopped smoking in January 2004. Yes, over a year smoke free! No more of this sticky goo on the mirror, the computer screen and all the surfaces.

Eye torture continuing unabated. No help whatsoever from mom or any sibling. Maybe they think that if they helped me it would be an aknowledgment of guilt? But I think to the contrary that their not doing anything to help me when they are so close -at least mom and Sophie- is a proof of their inhumanity. What is more normal than visiting a family member who is injured and helping by doing a little shopping or a little cleaning once in a while? But they think it would be a weakness, an acknowledgment that they owe me something....

I'm very broke again on top of all these miseries but when I compare my fate to the fate of the Iraqis or many other people in the world I don't dare to wail too much.

I'v'e picked up Blackwork embroidery again, this time on white burlap because it's very cheap. It takes only three stitches to make one centimeter but the irregular weave compensates for the bigness and gives it some character, some charm that the Aida fabric lacks. Besides it makes the embroidered piece usable as a home furnishing piece, not just a dainty framable sample display.

Wed. the 8th: I've spent two days reading the news on my recently acquired PC. If it were not for the pain in my eyes I would have had a great time. I definitely have more time to get in-depth news compared to the skimming I had to content myself with last year at the library or even here at the paying internet spots where I had to read real fast because I'm paying for the time.

OK, so my family's ethical standard boils down to three words -I know for certain because Dad pronounced them to me when I got caught shoplifting. Here are the three words:


So I'm addressing myself to my family members: suppose your assassination fails and your victim survives, as is the case with me, and your victim understands everything, then what do you do not to get caught? You have to victimize the victim even more, that's what you have to do. Because you can't afford to let her free or she'll report you, so you have to keep her under surveillance 24/7 and make sure she has no contact with anybody that you don't control.

That's why three years after coming back from the US I don't know a soul, that's why my folks don't let me work, because if I had customers and suppliers it might get out of hand and then they would have to worry. It's much safer for them to condemn me to total isolation. Uh, I guess they didn't intend to inflict on me this horrible fate, they were so sure their assassination scheme was going to work -this time-. But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do and, in case I forget, they're not the kind to have what the French call "ťtats d'‚me", in other words, emotions or compassion. Remember little sis saying "Pas d'pitiť! Pas d'pitiť!" and little bro saying "la bÍte inhumaine, la bÍte inhumaine..." and "Pourquoi tant de haine? Pourquoi tant de haine?" without any explanation.

Yes, why so much hatred? (Photo essay on the destruction of Fallujah, Iraq, in November 2004).


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