Friday, February 22, 2013

Hoya A Beautiful Hoya & Monkey Gone To Heaven

I love the hoya plant.

I was just looking at magazines for something to send Granny in a card, and I found the hoya, which is such a humble-beginnings plant, and sort of like cactii, but I have memories of it.

As a little girl, we had some cactus, and one had wax-like blossoms that were little pink and white stars.

And then my mother had a hanging plant.  A beautiful hoya.  I remember one time I thought she didn't like it much and I wondered why.  One year, she seemed to love it, and then next year, or years later, she grumbled about it. 

But I really loved it and it was hanging over our kitchen sink for at least one decade. I contemplated over that hoya more than any other indoor plant in our house, and the flowers were sweet and had a nice fragrance, almost a very subtle jasmine or honeysuckle.

It bloomed all the time.  I never our hoya without its star-blossoms.

It was near the dining room table for a long time and then it was in a  rope carrier,  hanging in a pot suspended from the ceiling and had this huge train.  The leaves were heart shaped or sort of rounded hearts, if I remember correctly, and thick, and waxy, and I used to pinch my nail into the flesh to see what it was like on the inside.  They were sort of light green in places and thicker, and then the flowers budded in clusters, like miniature bouquets.  I was the family dishwasher, so I saw it every night that I washed dishes.

I have written about this plant before, but I don't know if I knew what it was called.  Maybe we called it a wax plant, or maybe I was told it was a hoya.  I think it resembles jasmine, but it's not jasmine.  I'll have to ask my mother, but possibly it was with another plant because I remember a darker leaf trailing plant and then the (maybe more oval) leaves of the hoya and the blossoms. 

It was hanging above the mammy for a long time.  She was somewhere else and then she was on the windowsill under the hoya plant but maybe because I put her there.  I put something in the back carrier thing she had once, and my mother didn't like it.  I can't remember what was there originally, but I always remember long stemmed spaghetti.  I think one day I broke it in half and put it there and my mother was upset.  I think she said why did you do that? and I said because it was sticking out, or something. 

We never had broken up spaghetti for dinner either. It was always long strand and I think it would have been like wearing a bathrobe to church to break it up.  You don't break up spaghetti!  Then I think another time I put something else there but I can't remember what.  It was like the mammy with arrows in her back pack, with that spaghetti.  Break it?  I broke the spaghetti.

I'll bet I broke my arm after I broke the spaghetti.  The U.S. military had technology even back then...who knows.  What looks so natural is not always natural, is what I've learned.

The mammy's dress was sort of orange and yellow print I think, if I remember correctly.  I remember she was pitch black, and then had this apron and dress, and the green hoya plant over it.

Then we had a swing-set with orange and green and white stripes.  I think someone gave it to us but I'm not sure.  I used to swing on the swings, up so high, I always thought, "I could just swing high enough and go around the bar and if I hold on tight, I won't get hurt."  The swingset was blocked down with concrete underground to keep it from tipping over.  It used to move a little still, and come up a little, and I would swing so high, that my feet were almost level with the top bar. 

I calculated the risk every single time, and every time, I really wanted to try it.  I thought about the dynamics and about everything.  I calculated how strong I was, and my grip on the chain, and if I could really maybe do it...I went so high and so fast, I figured I'd just swing up, up, up, around the bar, and come over the other side in a perfect circle.

It was not a one-time idea.  It was every time.

The swing-set used to rock from the concrete under the ground and it was chained there too.  But it moved up just a little, just a little, when I got high enough on the swing.  I figured, if I go for it, and I knew I could, I KNEW I could do if I wanted to...I figured the chain would be so tight and I would go fast enough, to go all the way around in a giant rainbow, coming over and completing the circle and land on my feet.

Oh yes.

Then I saw another possibility.

Well, first of all, let it be known, no one "swang" as high as I did.  No kid who was ever on that set, ever did, and I never saw another kid at a park or house who went as high as I did.  ;)  It's sort of funny, but it's also the truth.

I liked going around on the bar at the playground at school, and used to do flips off of it, and how I never hit my head, I have no idea.  I had the guts to do it but I don't know why.

On the swingset, the other possibility that I saw, was that if I didn't go fast or high enough, what if I tried to go around and the chain crumpled on me?  What if I landed on top of the bar with my body, or flew out into who-knows-where?  So I always saw that "crumple factor" and I never crossed the line.

I had already broken my arm too.  I was still thinking about it, on that swingset. 

Monkey going to heaven, I was the monkey who wanted to go around the swingset bar, in perfect circles,  like a monkey going to heaven.

How was I to know that decades later, I'd be getting a powder puff to my nose for a passport photo for the Department of State.  The same Department of State that held me down with concrete and chains, and used their access to me, to torture me further and use me for experiments.

Before that happened, I worked for a woman who said she majored in Engineering before going to Government, who complained when I "bruised the lettuce".  I tore the lettuce a different way than she liked and then she telling me it was wrong and to gently tear it along the veins.  It was sort of like "what did you do?" when I broke the spaghetti in half,  but it was flash-forward from the 80s to 1996, and this time it was Mary Del Balzo, the Italian, yelling at me for breaking up the lettuce.

Whose on first?????

I look at the Pixies posterart for "Doolittle" now and see my swingset.  At each of the four posts, it was held down with concrete and chains.  Over time, the chains rusted and looked about the same color as the colors chosen for the poster.  It was 3 strands of chains for each post, and there were bolts in the posts and I guess, holes drilled into the metal posts, because then they were connected to the cement that was in a block for each post, under the ground.

Think about the song, "chained, chained, chained..."  Yes.  We were chained in more than one way.  And I think it's pretty obvious that the U.S. always planned to put me in jail somehow.  I don't believe the U.S. ever had good intentions for my life.

I never told anyone, as a kid, that I always thought about going up and over and around the high bar, in a perfect circle.  It was a thought I always had, which I spoke out loud to no one.  It was years that I thought about doing it.  "I think I could do it!"  Well, maybe not.  I think if I don't go fast enough, the chain will crumple on me.  "What if I go fast enough?  I think I could do it!"  Well, are my arms strong enough? 

I gripped the chains until my hands were thick with callouses.  I went so high and so often, my hands had callouses across the center and through my fingers where they wrapped around.  I tried holding the chains different ways too.  Then I went on the monkey bars at every recess in elementary school.

MONKEY WANTS TO GO TO HEAVEN!  But of course you can't leave the U.S. Cameo, and neither can your son Oliver, because he is our next monkey.

The monkey bars gave me the worst callouses, along the pads of my fingers, but I was always determined to make it all the way across and be strong enough to do it.

Look at the cute little monkey on the Pixies poster.  Aw.  See how it's feet are right next to its hands?  Just like Cameo, playing piano with her hands and feet on the keyboard at the same time, for kids she babysat.  Cute little monkey.

It's like my son Oliver.  Look at what they've done to him.  Now can anyone really say this country has nice ideas for Oliver?  This country does not have nice ideas for Oliver's life.  They tortured him to start with.  That's hardly nice.  They tortured me as a baby and plotted ways to throw me in jail.  I think it's the way they dispose of their "MKUltra projects".

Here's a photo I found while looking up Monkey's Gone to Heaven, and it's of the band under a fountain.  It is like the fountain from my preschool.

It's exactly like the fountain I used to sit on, as I waited for my Mom to pick me up from preschool.  I was age 3 or 4.  I have no idea when this photo was taken, but I saw this when I was looking at other pixie posters on images, and immediately I recognized it as identical to the fountain from my preschool, and that was in 1977 or 1978, about the same time of the MKUltra Senate Hearings of 1977.  The fountain was round like this, with a base and height like this, and was the same size. There wasn't water running at the fountain to my preschool, just as there is no water visibly shown here. 

Now I'm older, and now I know, yes, with enough velocity, I'm sure I could have gone up and over the bar in a perfect circle, and not flown off if the chains were taught and I held on tight, but it was probably good judgment, to assess the risk and potential.  I knew the physics that would be necessary, as a kid.

I used to twist the chains up too.  I used to twist the swing around over and over and over, until one chain was higher than the other chain, and I sat in the swing and kept twisting it until it was wrapped up all the way to the top, as tight as I could, and then I let go, spinning around as the chains unraveled.

I think my Dad knew, among some others, that I wanted to go around the highest bar.  Later I was in gymnastics and I wish that had worked out but I was dropped.  I think my Dad also knew what kind of reaction I had when the U.S. CIA and Army ordered that I be drugged with LSD.  I never told anyone what reaction I had but I never forgot about it.  Then later, talking to my Dad when I was an older kid, I asked if he'd done any drugs and he said he did acid one time (aside from a little pot a long time ago).  I said what's that? and he said it was LSD.  I asked what happened and he said, "I had a bad trip...I saw bugs everywhere."  He was talking about me.  Maybe he had a bad trip too and saw bugs just like me, but now that I'm older and can look back, he was letting me know he knew what I had seen or what I went through.  My reaction was to see bugs everywhere and I remember it one time.  I always had that memory but later I realized it had to have been the reaction from LSD. 

The U.S. never quit MKUltra and they continued to use me and plotted how to put me in jail.  First, possibly, they wanted a way to blackmail me into working for them.  Secondly, they want to have convenient ways to dump their MKUltra projects whenever they want.

As to Kate Middleton and the nurse that was hanged, she is absolutely responsible.  She wanted to create a scenario.  I can elaborate on that more later.

No comments: