More On What Happened.

Like I said, all my life it seems people were trying to teach me a moral lesson at times. But often it was a sick moral lesson, because I did nothing wrong. I am a very good person and I always have been. And it often involved questionable things like public humiliation and bringing my homosexuality to people's attention. That last one either because they were trying to tell me they didn't approve of it, or like with that staff at Sinai-Grace hospital in 2004 (who I hadn't even told yet) they were implying I was living up to my own standards or maybe they were trying to say I was being too gay in public. One of those things is all I know, when I didn't want to bring up the subject of my being gay myself in public. As I said, I have never had a problem with it and have been proud to be gay most of my adult life. Plus bringing to the public's attention could get you killed in Detroit. (Which my former therapist agrees, along with that I wasn't imagining it. People were indeed doing that on purpose.) The last time that seemed to happen as I said was at the Chaney branch of the Detroit library, where I was getting innocent pictures from Sports Illustrated magazine. But one of them was little risqué, and I didn't have time to collect all the copies. When I came back there again it was left prominently out all to see, as it was left out for me to pick up. Like I said, if people have a problem with homosexuality that's their problem. But doing things like that endangers my safety here in Detroit. But always some sick moral lesson, going back to St. Scholastica grade school. Like that one there that I shouldn't have fat-shamed Jamie Kivela on the playground. I was just repeating a harmless rhyme that Kendal Tucker started. And he and Tommy Emerick tormented me for being ugly for the rest of recess. I was cowering in the corner with my cap over my face crying at one point. But they never stopped, no one ever stopped. People started tormenting me like that everywhere I went for years after that. Total strangers seemed to know somehow then. I agree it sounds very weird. Then people on the phone could tell I was ugly even. It led to years of hardship and the belief I could never have a normal life because I was too ugly to beg. I was suicidal by the Summer of 1984, till I came out with my wild time travel plan and then that ironic song Twist of Fate by Olivia Newton-John came out. Always some sick moral lesson which still doesn't make any sense to me, often involving things about me that weren't even wrong or that I had no control of. And which always destroyed my life and led to years of pain. Like I said, my former therapist did seem to suggest there was some central planning behind all of that. Which, after all the harm it did and after it almost led to tragedy, I do plan on exposing now. I might have a lot of years left in spite of what it all led to now.

But that is what that experience with my Uncle Al led to. That man who did horrible things to his son, and wanted my life destroyed because I inconvenienced him by making him go out with me Sundays. It all started that ironic year of 1996. My life was forever changed when I lost my mother. And even many of the ironic songs that came out then seemed to mirror that fact, almost as if they were helping me deal with it. I will never be the same after that and I could never fully express the emotions of losing her. And the songs that came out that year almost seem on that theme which is odd. But my Uncle Al was forced to go out with us Sundays. I didn't want to break up the family, and I did need my Aunt Grace for support in my life in other ways too. But if she continued going out with us two men it would be a little odd. So she started bringing her husband Al along when I begged her to continue. And so she brought Al, and right away I could see how much he resisted it. The first Sunday he started drilling us about whether I went to my psychiatrist Dr. Chang and what he said. Which was odd, he was a very selfish man and didn't care about anyone. He'd pretend to cry at funerals because he knew this and didn't want others to find out. But I could hear the desperation in his voice as he asked us. Then he started telling us he had a name for Dr. Chang. "Bang-bang Chang". Because he was of the opinion that I needed to be put away. I was a menace to society, I inconvenienced Sundays he told us like I said. Or he told us he had another name, "Chitty-Chitty, Chang Chang". Which every time he said he'd pause and explain was from the 1968 Disney movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Because he thought he had to explain it each time, because he thought I was an idiot like he was. Then one time my father was absent one Sunday. And he really didn't like it. He was already talking loud enough for us to hear as we approached the car Sunday mornings. Letting me know that he thought I needed to be put away. Because I inconvenienced him, because I was lazy and selfish and life too good, because I enjoyed coffee and donuts too much, because I always had to have my way. You know, everything he was guilty of basically. But this time he was really angry and could even hold it in. He wasn't only talking as I approached, but as I sat down in the back seat too. He was talking right in front of me of all of that now, he was so mad this time. And fuming mad the rest of the day too. Finally on the ride home he let out a temper tantrum in the car, acting weird and in a disturbing way and gyrating his arms. A car of young people next to us even saw and started pointing and laughing. Then like I said, after my stay at Sinai-Grace hospital in April of 2004, when I was driven to suicide by my irrational fears, but really more the threats that I was receiving up till that point, people seemed to think I did something I didn't do. And that was bad enough, but then again everywhere I went that seemed to be the case. People who couldn't possibly know did. Like I said, my former therapist tells me I wasn't imaging any of that. Besides bring up the issues of patient confidentiality, besides bringing up the issue of false accusations, besides again endangering my life by doing that publicly in a place like Detroit, it almost led to suicide again. Because now they were telling me I was going to go to prison very soon, and be horribly abused they assured me. Not only the seven years I was contemplating suicide, but after too. Even Eric's family took part in that it seems. Fortunately by 2011 I realized probably once again nothing would come of it. But when is that ever an acceptable thing to do? And my Uncle Al took part in it, naturally. Like I said, he was privy to all the confidential information that anyone else was. And he had a strong opinion of it. He thought I should be locked in a mental hospital, and then after 2004 he thought prison was a better option. I could get better care there he said. And like I said, at one point I did let it slip that I thought he was a disgusting human being and wondered if this wouldn't have been a better world if he didn't go to prison. You know, after all those years of horrible abuse and neglect and horrible acts to his adopted son. And someone picked up on that too. People started telling me they thought he was a wonderful man. Like I said, he was an upstanding citizen and a devout Catholic. And like I said, he was trying to take credit in public for being a good father. Until his son publicly humiliated him at a restaurant we went to Sundays. One thing that all involved was his son refusing to shake his hand, because that was part of his master plan. That if the public saw him shake hands with his son they'd think he must have been a good father. And now they shook hands repeatedly to show me that was no longer the case. And each time they did he grinned and looked over to see if I noticed. Because like I said even then it was obvious someone else had planned it. The same people who wanted to shame me for being gay, whoever that was. Finally having enough I started telling people the horrible things he did to his son as a child. I know I wasn't supposed to because we had a rule in my house that we would never do that. It might get him in trouble. But this was all getting ridiculous and way out of hand by now. I told my doctors and my psychiatrist and a couple of other people, and it seemed to stop after that. That's another common theme in my life. Not only that I am horribly abused and threatened and treated differently, but that I am treated wrong and unfairly too. Sometimes to a ridiculous degree. Again in 2004 as if to mirror this fact that movie the Merchant of Venice with Al Pacino came out. With it's ironic new meaning in my life then. And again almost as if someone was trying to bring it to people's attention or something, all that I went thru then and how it almost ended very differently. And also the video It's My Life by No Doubt with it's three themes of how I seemed to be the victim of injustice. Being accused of some ridiculous charge, having my car wrongly taken from me and being the victim of arbitrary police brutality. Like I heard then they sometimes did with their tasers, not because the subject was acting up, just because they could. All while I was trying to fight all three injustices, and just trying to live my life. Like I have been since I was that little handicapped boy just trying to do that.

And now all these years later I have been abused like that. Having all those years taken from me. I am still being treated lower than the lowest criminal, I still have less rights than them. I have no access to the criminal justice system. All my access is blocked off. And I'll never know when that ends because even the lawyers I reach out to have to play along. Play along, and not one of them, or anyone else, has had the decency to object to that or deviate from that rule. My future is by no means certain. And my becoming a quadriplegic is a real possibility. If I understood my foot doctor, it is inevitable some day. And like I said, I refuse to go to a group home or ever give up my car. Give up my car especially after all they put me thru with that. Because that threat was really happening. Like I said, I think the threat of going to prison was real too, though that one seems to have resolved itself since I never did anything. What I need now is some real accountability, and I need compensation to live on. Live on now that they left me this way after a lifetime of abuse, and now the way they've maimed me and forever altered the course of my life. But nothing is being done, nothing is changing and no one cares. Because they never cared. They often questioned my decency and compassion, while they did this to me. Did this to me, and now continue to do this because now it is obviously still happening to cover up their crimes and to ensure the escape any accountability, or damages for me to live on. And some of them still tell me all of this was just my imagination.