Not only was the abuse levelled against me by my partner physical, but also mental. Take note: you are being domestically abused if your partner is doing these things to you:
humiliation
constant criticism
verbal abuse and name calling
imposition of unreasonable rules and ultimatums
enforced isolation from friends and family
threats against you or others you are close to (eg your children or pets)
destruction of belongings
excessive jealousy and possessiveness
control over what you wear and how you look.
All of which Cash Teran, playwrite, failed rockstar, and serial liar has done to me. As well as beat me on several occasions including an incident where hit me with a hammer and was convincted, rightly so.
Don't let this abuse happen to you too. I am free from it now and will remain so.
Friday, 19 March 2010
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
The Alex Stuart Kirkpatrick Probe
Hello, my name is Alex Stuart Kirkpatrick. You don’t know me, not a lot of people do, but I’m just like you. I used to think that it was a big problem that you didn’t know me – that’s not to say that I wanted to know you, I just wanted you to know me – but I no longer think that. Don’t worry, I no longer think that. I’m not fussed if anyone’s reading anymore, but if you are: hi. (I smile at you).
I’m a simple person. Well, as simple as a person is. As simple or as complex as you are I guess. I have no discernable talents except that I can play a mean bass guitar though, ironically, I don’t really like doing that anymore. It’s not fun like it was with Gaz, Sean, and the Welsh Gaz back when we were kids. Back when we used to practice playing Oasis and Nirvana tracks in Gaz’s front room during the holidays for no other reason or higher purpose than jamming and hanging out with mates. Back when we used to put on gigs in the school gym and all the kids used to sit around the edges because we were all too scared and northern to stand in the middle and dance. It just doesn’t feel that good to me anymore. So I don’t use that talent.
Somewhere along the line we all grew up and everything became a business. I haven’t got much of an education, but I know that you can’t make business out of music. You start trying and you lose the music. Well I do at least. Some people can maintain the two but they’re the few, the paragon. I don’t know about you but business is never fun to me, no matter what the business. The Dionysian cults didn’t need managers to put on a kick ass night. The ancient Macedonians didn’t play for contracts. They just played. I don’t like to play anymore. But I’m pretty cool with it.
Sometimes I like to write. As you can tell, I’m not really very good at it. But who says you have to be? Isn’t writing in itself enough? If you feel like I feel then it is. It doesn’t matter if it’s technically shit or if no-one ever reads it. It feels good to do and please don’t listen to any hubristic snob telling you that it’s no good, or it’s not worth anything. Their just spitting conceit. Write it for you, not them. Write nonsense on the underside of a beer mat or write your name twenty times on a fresh tampon then put it anywhere you god damn well please. It’s all worth something even if “only” to you. Even if “only” you know it’s up there.
The greatest thing I ever read was scribbled on the inside of a toilet stall at Duff Miller Academy. “Don’t litter. It’s free advertising.” I saw it whilst I was evacuating myself before attempting my AS levels at the age of twenty four (I never did get the full A level as I often lack the longevity to see a scheme through to its end). “Don’t litter. It’s free advertising.” I can’t work out whether it’s facile, funny, or profound. Maybe all of them and maybe a million other things to a million other people. I just liked it right before my philosophy exam. Thoughts written on a toilet wall.
If you were to light a torch at one end of our galaxy it would take about one hundred thousand years for that light to reach the other end of our galaxy. And there are about ninety million other galaxies just like ours out there. I just thought you should know that. Just in case you feel like I feel sometimes and start feeling used up, abused, like you’re the victim of some great conspiracy, or worse, like you’re not good enough, undeserving of this world, or that you need some kind of recognition from it. Just remember that you don’t. All that anger and all that ire, that injustice or that worthless feeling; it doesn’t make a difference. It’s like a dead limb, just cut it off and look up at the stars and remember your place. The same as my place. The same as their place. Don’t worry if there’s people telling lies about you, defaming you to others, because their words and lies are void and whispered in the ears of ants. The universe isn’t listening. Only a powerless person would want to ruin your life.
And don’t worry or blame yourself, because I’ve made most of the same mistakes as you. As long as you’ve never been to prison, then I’ve made pretty much all the mistakes that you have. We all have. In idiosyncratic ways for sure, but fundamentally there’s only a finite number of ways that we as humans can fuck it all up. Learn. Just learn and smile and know you’re not alone. Don’t listen to hate. It creeps into your bones like a cancer.
I don’t have a girlfriend. I did. But we broke each other’s hearts the way people do sometimes. Love turned into hate as it so easily does and all memories become soured by those final acts of vindictiveness you feel you have to do to get yourself through the heartache. I'm not bitter tho. It's happening to someone else in the world right now and I wish them luck.
I have a family just like you. I don’t know if you like yours or even if they’re alive, but I like mine, on the whole, when it suits me. My love, however, is unconditional. I love them and they love me and that will always remain. I hope it’s the same for you. And if it’s not, I hope that someone else loves you like that. Knows you implicitly and will know the truth by simply looking in your eyes. I hope you have someone that loves you without restriction or caveat. Someone who doesn’t ever have to prove it.
Enough about you let’s talk about me. I’m twenty six now, then, have been for a while. I’m still not a great success, whatever that would entail, and I can’t imagine why that matters. Not anymore. Not right now. I don’t even have a job at the moment or a career in the planning or any manifest destiny to peruse. I am not a great man like Winston Churchill or Harry Truman, primarily because I have never, will never work that hard. It’s just who I am and how I like to live. I have been called a loser more than once and have had my heart broken more than once too, just like you. I have told lies and been lied about, just like you. Take a penny leave a penny.
But what I am is, finally, comfortable in my skin. Comfortable in the knowledge that there are adventures out there waiting for all of us and no one needs to hear about them that they must be infused with any value. The value is in the doing. I'm finally comfortable to stand in line. Comfortable being hated and loved and not to measure either. Comfortable that all truths are subjective and as such I can never be master of them. That’s a weight off my shoulders. I have no control. And that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m a little chaotic, but look around the world and beyond to the universe as a whole. It’s all just a beautiful chaotic shambles and I’m just a little speck in it. Just like you. So for some reason I can't quite fathom I’m just gonna leave this blog out there like some pointless probe shat out into space just in case in the history of time and space someone might come across it and realise that they’re not alone. We’re all the same as you no matter how hard you try and pull away from us.
I hope you find your adventure and you don’t need to cut anyone down to get there. I hope you get happy and get there soon. I’m told by educated people that at the end here is where to leave with quotes, so here goes:
“Wrestle not with bears, lest you become a bear yourself.”
“I have a dream (dot)(dot)(dot)”
I’m a simple person. Well, as simple as a person is. As simple or as complex as you are I guess. I have no discernable talents except that I can play a mean bass guitar though, ironically, I don’t really like doing that anymore. It’s not fun like it was with Gaz, Sean, and the Welsh Gaz back when we were kids. Back when we used to practice playing Oasis and Nirvana tracks in Gaz’s front room during the holidays for no other reason or higher purpose than jamming and hanging out with mates. Back when we used to put on gigs in the school gym and all the kids used to sit around the edges because we were all too scared and northern to stand in the middle and dance. It just doesn’t feel that good to me anymore. So I don’t use that talent.
Somewhere along the line we all grew up and everything became a business. I haven’t got much of an education, but I know that you can’t make business out of music. You start trying and you lose the music. Well I do at least. Some people can maintain the two but they’re the few, the paragon. I don’t know about you but business is never fun to me, no matter what the business. The Dionysian cults didn’t need managers to put on a kick ass night. The ancient Macedonians didn’t play for contracts. They just played. I don’t like to play anymore. But I’m pretty cool with it.
Sometimes I like to write. As you can tell, I’m not really very good at it. But who says you have to be? Isn’t writing in itself enough? If you feel like I feel then it is. It doesn’t matter if it’s technically shit or if no-one ever reads it. It feels good to do and please don’t listen to any hubristic snob telling you that it’s no good, or it’s not worth anything. Their just spitting conceit. Write it for you, not them. Write nonsense on the underside of a beer mat or write your name twenty times on a fresh tampon then put it anywhere you god damn well please. It’s all worth something even if “only” to you. Even if “only” you know it’s up there.
The greatest thing I ever read was scribbled on the inside of a toilet stall at Duff Miller Academy. “Don’t litter. It’s free advertising.” I saw it whilst I was evacuating myself before attempting my AS levels at the age of twenty four (I never did get the full A level as I often lack the longevity to see a scheme through to its end). “Don’t litter. It’s free advertising.” I can’t work out whether it’s facile, funny, or profound. Maybe all of them and maybe a million other things to a million other people. I just liked it right before my philosophy exam. Thoughts written on a toilet wall.
If you were to light a torch at one end of our galaxy it would take about one hundred thousand years for that light to reach the other end of our galaxy. And there are about ninety million other galaxies just like ours out there. I just thought you should know that. Just in case you feel like I feel sometimes and start feeling used up, abused, like you’re the victim of some great conspiracy, or worse, like you’re not good enough, undeserving of this world, or that you need some kind of recognition from it. Just remember that you don’t. All that anger and all that ire, that injustice or that worthless feeling; it doesn’t make a difference. It’s like a dead limb, just cut it off and look up at the stars and remember your place. The same as my place. The same as their place. Don’t worry if there’s people telling lies about you, defaming you to others, because their words and lies are void and whispered in the ears of ants. The universe isn’t listening. Only a powerless person would want to ruin your life.
And don’t worry or blame yourself, because I’ve made most of the same mistakes as you. As long as you’ve never been to prison, then I’ve made pretty much all the mistakes that you have. We all have. In idiosyncratic ways for sure, but fundamentally there’s only a finite number of ways that we as humans can fuck it all up. Learn. Just learn and smile and know you’re not alone. Don’t listen to hate. It creeps into your bones like a cancer.
I don’t have a girlfriend. I did. But we broke each other’s hearts the way people do sometimes. Love turned into hate as it so easily does and all memories become soured by those final acts of vindictiveness you feel you have to do to get yourself through the heartache. I'm not bitter tho. It's happening to someone else in the world right now and I wish them luck.
I have a family just like you. I don’t know if you like yours or even if they’re alive, but I like mine, on the whole, when it suits me. My love, however, is unconditional. I love them and they love me and that will always remain. I hope it’s the same for you. And if it’s not, I hope that someone else loves you like that. Knows you implicitly and will know the truth by simply looking in your eyes. I hope you have someone that loves you without restriction or caveat. Someone who doesn’t ever have to prove it.
Enough about you let’s talk about me. I’m twenty six now, then, have been for a while. I’m still not a great success, whatever that would entail, and I can’t imagine why that matters. Not anymore. Not right now. I don’t even have a job at the moment or a career in the planning or any manifest destiny to peruse. I am not a great man like Winston Churchill or Harry Truman, primarily because I have never, will never work that hard. It’s just who I am and how I like to live. I have been called a loser more than once and have had my heart broken more than once too, just like you. I have told lies and been lied about, just like you. Take a penny leave a penny.
But what I am is, finally, comfortable in my skin. Comfortable in the knowledge that there are adventures out there waiting for all of us and no one needs to hear about them that they must be infused with any value. The value is in the doing. I'm finally comfortable to stand in line. Comfortable being hated and loved and not to measure either. Comfortable that all truths are subjective and as such I can never be master of them. That’s a weight off my shoulders. I have no control. And that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m a little chaotic, but look around the world and beyond to the universe as a whole. It’s all just a beautiful chaotic shambles and I’m just a little speck in it. Just like you. So for some reason I can't quite fathom I’m just gonna leave this blog out there like some pointless probe shat out into space just in case in the history of time and space someone might come across it and realise that they’re not alone. We’re all the same as you no matter how hard you try and pull away from us.
I hope you find your adventure and you don’t need to cut anyone down to get there. I hope you get happy and get there soon. I’m told by educated people that at the end here is where to leave with quotes, so here goes:
“Wrestle not with bears, lest you become a bear yourself.”
“I have a dream (dot)(dot)(dot)”
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