I love You

Author’s note: This isn’t your ordinary blog post. I’m not gonna write ordinary things today. Below is a bunch of song lyrics, a bunch of things I want to express at the moment. Enjoy.

I was lying in my bed so late at night,

Wishing you were here and saying it would be all right,

But you just don’t understand me, you probably never will.

Whenever love becomes a thing at all,

What I get is a cruel joke a thousand stories tall.

My mind is altogether out of place in everybody’s arms,

And you said you would never get with anyone else like me, …

I loved you, and I still do.

You know I take back all the words you might have said to me,

And I won’t be able to hold on to the past,

But when you say you’re the last, I don’t believe this lie,

I love you.

As I take the pieces of my heart to grieve,

I can’t help but wonder how you don’t believe

Any words I say, any small things I do,

When will you ever wake up to this hurt?

When will you ever see the way I bleed?

When will you ever tell me something that isn’t harmful to my soul?

I loved you, I still do.

You know I’d take back every word you said to me,

I won’t hold on to the past, but when you say you’re the last,

I don’t believe this lie.

IF you ever need a shoulder to cry on, look to me instead

OF the pointless people edging me into the pit of death,

IF you want to someday see your errors floating about your face,

Think of how you threw me out and got your whole heart lost in space,

And what I said to you was never cruel and not unkind,

ANd you say I have no golden heart, a very unsound mind,

But you don’t get the way I feel, the way I can’t resist

The way you loved me prior to your refusal to assist,

And I wish you weren’t the liar, you weren’t eh heartbreak man,

But all I see is blisters on the side of both my hands,

As I write this, my shattered heart can’t possibly repair,

Not without the words I long to hear,

I loved you, and I still do,

You know I’d take back every word you said to me,

And I won’t hold on to the past, and when you say you’re the last,

I won’t believe this lie,

I would die to save your whole self, don’t believe me, just ask.

I would not dare let someone kill you, let them shoot me first,

Just know that in my heart of hearts, I love you.

Letter to My Unborn Daughter

Author’s Note: The following came as a result of a major crying spell. It’s been a week since I’ve been heartbroken over a myriad of things, but a vision of a little girl with reddish blone hair and blue eyes appeared in my mind, invading my thoughts. I thought I’d write her a letter here, and you all are welcome to join me on this journey while I’m writing this. Please read the following.

Dear unborn Daughter,

First of all, I just want to say I am the one who could become your mother. I want to welcome you to a world without certainty, without security, with a lot of bad things such as war and poverty. There are, however, a few good things in the world. You invaded my thoughts, and thinking about you just brought tears to my eyes. I could see a vision of your golden hair, and my oh my you look like your father. You have your father’s beautiful blue eyes. He can’t see that, but though I’m blind, for all I know, I have inner sight. There was a Greek blind prophet Tereisius who couldn’t see anything, just like me, but he could see the future within his mind. That’s what happened here. The prophet I speak of appears in Oedipus the King and several other things, but you won’t read those till you’re older, my daughter. IF only I could tell you what I am seeing now, but alas, you are only but a thought within. IF you come into this world, promise me this, you won’t forget me. IF they take you from me, if they tell you that Daddy was evil, which isn’t the case, if they tell you Mommy can’t and won’t be able to take care of you, again not the case, when you see my picture on the TV, don’t forget the name. Your father is a gifted rapper, and he made such beautiful beats, and he cried out through one, “I want to know what love is.” Well, I loved him. He probably didn’t love me because I mismanaged money, but he just overstepped a boundary or two, and things didn’t get the right way between us for a time. There was a time the father in your life was cold to me, but then you appeared, a thought bubble in my mind. This is why I’m writing this.

For one, I love your father. HE had the most gentle heart when I first saw him. He was very strong, is still that way and he had a daughter in his home state of Iowa. Well, you don’t realize you have a big sister there. One day when you are older and able to travel in this big world, you will meet her. You two are always on my mind, even if Daddy says it’s not right for me to think about that. We want to make you out of love, not violence, and when you only know violence, uncertainty, and misinterpreted viewpoints, that’s all you can know. It’s a thing in psychology called “learned helplessness.” I think Daddy is helpless to get out of this vicious cycle, and I just want him to get out of it, rise above this, and say he cares about me. That’s all. I could only picture your tiny voice at the door of my bedroom asking if I’m all right, the sweet innocence piercing the air.

The one thing I don’t want to have to deal with is postpartum depression, and that’s because I don’t want you to bear the sufferings I’ve endured. I want you to be a happy little lady, playing on the floor with your Legos and just imagining a world you’d like to build. Your Daddy might cry a little, he might just lose it seeing me rock you to sleep, sing to you and even when you get fussy, I won’t stop till you laugh and get quiet. IF you get colic, I’ll make sure it goes away, one way or another. Come Hell or High Water, you will have a mother, and your life will be the best it will ever be.

I will tell you, there won’t be violence in your home. I won’t let you watch Top Gun, for example, without making sure you don’t have to enact the things that Maverick sees. I don’t care if you try to watch that movie, but besides that, I will never let a guy or any being enact violence upon you. When you exit my body you will find a world where there won’t be a chance for myself even to commit abuse or violence on you. You will never know a spanking, except for birthday spankings. I will sing Happy Birthday to you, and when you turn six, for example, I will give you birthday spankings on your back, not your bottom. I’ll gently slap you six times, and give you a playful hard one to grow on. That’s all. You will not know the pain of injury due to discipline, and you will not have to spend fifteen years of your life in captivity because of some lie your parents doled to a court of law. You will be allowed to date a man, and I will be nothing but honest with you about the man’s character. My character is good, and honestly, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Daughter, because I want to not only have you, don’t tell Daddy about the bio clock thing, that’s a minuscule reason he’s here in the first place, but because you are someone I could tell so much to and you will become wiser than I have been. I want to undo the damage between me and your potentially awesome daddy. He will have released his rap album, and I want to see it chart. I don’t want anyone to doubt his skills, and I want him to get a good coach who can help him improve, I mean everybody needs improvement. I want to improve my singing, and when you enter the world, Daughter, I want to hear you sing. I will sing for you, and in turn, I hope you hear the golden notes of my voice and pick up what I’m singing. You will one day receive a piano in your home, and your Daddy and I will probably end up paying for lessons so you know how to make music on the piano. I took my first lessons when I was five.

Your daddy I want to say a few words about. First, I get the learned helplessness, but sometimes there is a silver lining. I want you to be that silver lining, and I’ve never seen so many opposed to your life, but when you finally enter my womb, I want to hear “Congratulations.” I want Daddy to write on social media that his queen is pregnant, and you, Daughter, will be my little princess. I want to pass by your bedroom door every night and say, “Goodnight, Princess.” Your daddy will probably cry really hard because when he looks at you, he will not see the craziness of the past week and a half from a past you will never know, but. he will see hope for a future for all of us. He will say, “Goodnight, Princess. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.” I have deeper respect for that phrase as you will never know the bite of bedbugs, if I can help it.

One thing I want to promise you is this. You will never know the biting sting of abuse. I won’t do it, Daddy won’t do it, nobody is going to do it if I have my way with it. We will protect you as best we can, given the circumstances under which you are born. When I hear you cry for the first time, trust me I might cry too. But you will enter a world of gadgets, including smartphones and tablets, and you won’t believe the apps out there that will remind me to feed you every four hours. When you turn four, I’ll start teaching you your alphabet, your name, and I will also teach you about black and gay history, and someday you will learn about Stonewall and all the rioting and the way the NYPD could have been a lot worse but the gay folks taught those NYPD people a lesson. Do not ever make people give up who they love. IF you want to, you will be able to talk to myself or Daddy. IF you are transgender, Daughter, do not be afraid. I will make sure you belong anywhere, if that means we have to move states, move countries, or god forbid take a rocket ship off to Neverland just to give you a safe place to be yourself, that’s what you will see. I will take Daddy and myself too on the rocket ship, and we will explore new worlds together, find alien civilizations, and do many things with the stars. IF we move states, it will be because the hate toward LGBTQIA+ people, particularly the T people will not persist. We will make sure you will have a place to do sports, trans or not, without some guy or doctor seeing your genitalia and I won’t let anyone touch you without consent from both of us and then, only then when you turn eighteen and get married later on. It is your body, yourself. You own your body, not anyone else. You will never have to face the choice of abortion to save your life or having to die of childbirth. I will fight for you, and even if Daddy doesn’t want to be with me or have anything to do with you, no matter what his feelings are, you will be the number one priority. IF I have to celebrate Mother’s Day without support or compassion from him or anyone else, so be it. I know that when you turn eight or so, with maturity, you will walk into my bedroom and squeal happily, “Morning, Mommy, happy Mother’s Day.” You will one day hand me a couple bouquets of flowers, all manner of flowers present, and someday your daddy will understand why you are the priority, but he will present me with a tray of cinnamon rolls, bacon, and so on but if not him, I could let my friend Barbara over and she’d be there and we’d all go out to someplace and eat. Good times is my friend Barbara’s favorite burger joint. Your daddy will never forget when I say something about the time we were in Arizona together, and his hands and hips were gently against mine. We made love for the first time, and if you wonder what making love is, I’ll explain, little one, when you are old enough to understand. But even so, I will only say, the act of making love is the best thing in the world. When his body was on top of mine, I was transported somewhere far beyond. That is all.

Daughter, your image is so palpable it is there to stay. I did say you have your father’s eyes, and I want you to have your father’s eyes, maybe the blue eyes you have will look at me once and say, “Mommy, you’re crying.” I will be happy to explain, the crying will never stop until I can find a resolution. Within myself, I don’t feel that love was kind enough but only to create you. What made you wasn’t an extraparanormal deity called Jehovah or God. It was an act between two consenting adults, Daddy and me, and we made you in good faith. He said he wanted me to get my heart checked, but because I hadn’t noticed it, maybe I should. The heart checkup could be because my own biological father, your biological grandpa, had a history of heart attacks and such. LEt me tell you a little story, maybe a big one for such a tiny thought in my mind, it may be a huge story, maybe inappropriate for children, but you are just an angel wanting to fight her way down here, so let me begin.

I was the product of a Catholic mother, but she never told me who the dad was. Later, I was adopted by a David Taurasi, who I guess didn’t want me to know who the bio dad was. David wasn’t a bad person in the beginning, but in the end, I don’t know how to feel about him. David and my mother, Patricia, got guardianship of me at seventeen years old, presumably because of blindness, but they might have abused me for years, and it wasn’t too physical but it was more mental, verbal and emotional. See, abuse is damaging to everybody, but you’re immortal and an angel, so you don’t have to worry right now about abuse or damage because of such things. So back to my story. David and Patricia never told me who bio dad was, so I thought my ex boyfriend Trenton, would be able to give me a DNA test, but alas, it would cost a lot. The Human Service office was closed and as I type this, still is because of a pandemic. You may not have a physical body, but you do need to know that pandemics can rip a body apart. I indirectly witnessed a chorus mate’s p-parents both die one at a time from this virus. I was almost attacked by that virus, but alas, got better. I had a ceremony with my ex shortly after, but honey, I think my voice sucked. DAvid and Patricia weren’t invited, trust me I won’t ever let them hear of me getting married, but Daddy and me? Well, it’s obvious he doesn’t understand I want a joyful moment in my life. I might have written something or two, but Daddy just has to work out his own inner demons, and mental illness can spring from the abuse of body or mind. It’s not something that can be changed easily without a professional.

So when you ask me, “Do I have a daddy?” You know what I’ll say? “Yes, Daughter, you do.” I will tell you his name, and you will smile and look at me in wonder. You will want to know what jobs and things he’s into. I’ll tell you, his album will give you a sense of who he is. He wants to see and feel love, so part of this composition is about that.

He does have love but for me, well, I love him, and I love him dearly. I want him to stay with me so he doesn’t have to do this to someone else. I can’t explain what happened without crying, but you are an angel and you don’t need to look too far down here to see what happened. Some things are best left unsaid. This man is a powerful advocate of the blind community, yet nobody in that community cared any for him. IF you ever pass down here, and float upon your wings, Daughter of heaven, tell your father to be that you are waiting for him. Tell him I love him, that all I want is to be loved and accepted, that he doesn’t need a deity to believe in angels. Angels exist, I believe that much, and to see you troubled by my crying and all of that troubles me too. Sit upon that man’s shoulder, give him tranquility and peace, and speak to him if he so wishes, if you so dare, whatever. Just tell him he has someone in this room, in this house, that loves him dearly and I want the pieces of my heart to be fixed. He hugged me one day, and on Sunday, we listened to a Juneteenth concert and he just picked me up off the floor with both strong arms, seasoned by years of weight training, and twirled and carried me around the room. I want him to do that to you. Daughter of Heaven, shine down on your father, tell him things will be all right. He is someone I want to be my anchor, my rock, and I want my friend and lover to love me forever until time and eternity. I promised him time and eternity, and I would be willing to forgive him if he just doesn’t mess up again. Forgiveness is not, as an ex of mine would say, a free pass to do bad things again. He isn’t my ex. Daughter, if you should so much as enter my body, enjoy your time in it. Don’t kick me excessively, but if you need to kick, fine. Just when you exit, we want to hold you and fawn over the body you have presented to us. When you blossom into a woman, Daughter of Heaven, we want you to be the best advocate for yourself, the people in your life, and the big wide world. Your father will be extremely proud of you. When you come here, whether it’s an Arizona desert or the Colorado mountains, you will be welcomed with open arms. You will be celebrated by us, the parental units, as a good option and a great achievement and a milestone long since overdue especially for this girl, who was released from guardianship just two years earlier. I am trying to pick up the pieces of freedom in my hand, but you, Daughter of Heaven, are my light and my salvation to no end. You will be the person that nobody will expect. Your name will be able to appear whenever it does, but furthermore, you will be a shining example to me and your father. We may both be blind, but we will forever be that power couple. We’re going to knock the world over, not fight with each other. As you are an angel, you might have watched the things unfold, but if you truly are an angel, not a demon, please bless my dear love with all the blessings and especially your presence. Get him out of the cycle of violence and abuse and into the house of David, king of Israel, or better yet, get him a house of peace beyond all understanding. I threw up yesterday morning, and maybe you’re waiting to grow in my womb, but if you are, great. Stay right there, and when you come into this troubled world, please let me see your light in that troubled world, and let me hold you while you feed, when you cry, and when you laugh. When you get too big to hold, feel free to play in the park, we’ll run around together, and throw a ball further than any boy. You will someday dance as you do in the Heavenly Realms you reside in, and maybe you will wear ballet slippers. Perhaps you will be a Swan Princess, and Daddy and I will enjoy the waltz as Siegfried and the Princess dance down stage, pirouette after pirouette and catch after catch, every move in grave detail described and you will come out to us in your dressing room, your ballet outfit all glitter and lace. Your pointe shoes will have been rosened but after your stellar performance, we will give you hugs every day. You will practice every day as if you want to practice, placing your slender legs on the ballet bar, stretching them out. You will have beautiful hair, I suspect you will have your father’s reddish blonde, but everybody will say, “What an angel.” When you walk into a room, or perhaps you will dance your way into the living room, your daddy will smile and say, “Ready to go to dance class already?” I will nod and we’ll watch you dance but what will surprise me is wen Daddy goes and dances with a bunch of forty something guys, Daddy ballerinas all dressed up in girlish costumes, but trust me, the dance will have a good effect on him. He would dance the waltz across the stage. When the old men are finished, all of us will clap. I can’t, however, get the Swan Lake scene out of my mind. If they choose you to be the Swan Princess, we will jump for joy. I will hope that your Siegfried the prince will have much good dancing ability and will be as strong and tall as your father. Perhaps my Siegfried does not understand that at seventeen, I will have been a caged swan. He doesn’t understand taht deep down inside, I am a princess, no, a queen. Swan queen. IF I was a free swan, I’d gather him up in my tallons and fly him off to my castle, and I am not going to be rescued.

There’s one more thing I want to say here in this letter. You are a wanted by happiness child. I also want you to know that not all men are monsters. He is not a monster, not at all. He’s just a bit off because of the violence he was subjected to. I just don’t want the cycle to continue, and I want him to see your big sister, but furthermore, I never said I hated men. I don’t hate men. I never will hate men. There is a good man behind the monster that possessed my apartment, screamed in my face, and said he wanted nothing of a love with me. Well, I am even more dedicated to making sure this doesn’t turn into any monster. He is not a monster. HE has never tormented me in my bed, but the few times he did, he said I was crazy but I don’t think he gets it. PErhaps the Prince Siegfried would think the same if the swan Princess was in a cage, her wings clipped so she could not fly. When she transforms into the human so beautiful Siegfried could kiss her, she would fly like the wind on her feet to him, but I didn’t want Daddy to see this stuff. It reminds me of Lord Farquad from Shrek, but please, don’t tell anyone his name should have been Fuckwad, but yeah, that guy wanted to lock Fiona the princess up because she transformed into an ogre at night. Guess who took her hand and loved her through that? Shrek, the ogre. Shrek and Fiona are a reason for believing in love, but yet I don’t see a real life Shrek anywhere willing to love this Queen Fiona. I will make this one thing clear. Daddy isn’t Lord Farquad, he is nothing like that. HE might even be Shrek, for all I know. Shrek said he was troubled by the way people treated him, grab your torch and pitchforks, and the Beware and wanted signs all over the place. I will tell you, Shrek was understandably angry. I mean, who wants to marry a big “stupid ugly ogre?” He even confronted Fiona about that, but Fiona learned that this man/being loved her with all his heart. Thanks to Donkey and Dragon, Lord Fuckwad did not marry Fiona for real, and when Shrek kissed her, she took his form, but furthermore, the two lovers learned that love does not have looks on its mind. Love knows no bounds, and my love for you and Daddy will always continue. Even without him around, a piece of my heart will go with him, wherever he decides. Daughter of Heaven, you will always be my daughter, you are the one I want to create and it is you who will succeed, do better at life, perhaps you will undo the damage between all the guys and me. But speak to Daddy, fly to him, and if he wakes up with tears in his eyes, if he doesn’t understand you, make him hear you. Angels are like that. I’m drained, I feel like an empty paper bag. I want to go straight back to bed, but when I wake up in the morning, you might have been there. But you invaded my thoughts, but trust me I welcome you as I will when you exit the sacred spot in my womb. I can’t wait to push you out, Daddy being kickass enough to say, “Push, push, push, that’s right my queen.” He will push my hand toward him, and I might have hormones and bite him or I might not. But when you come rolling into the world, your slimy body bathed clean and bundled in blankets and diapers, we will celebrate your arrival, champagne and all. YOu will cry like all babies, but it won’t be a scream as if to say, “I hate you. Why’d you bring me into this world?” I will connect with you and when you arrive, your whimpers will only serve to say, “Mommy, Daddy, feed me.” That’s what happens. All beings of the living sort are born hungry. I will hold you tight, and there wil be lots of cuddles, hugs, kisses and blankets and toys for you to play with. I will rock you to sleep and put you gently in a crib beside my bed. I will be awoken and will be able to nurse you to life. I will hold you tight even when you are sick, I will calm your fevers, rub your back when you are in pain, give you medication to calm you down, give you a spoonful of sugar so that the medicine isn’t so bitter. I will make sure every doctor gives you the right medication if you have maladies of any kind. When friends come to play with you, you will have many I hope, I will welcome you playing with those friends forever. YOu might lose a few in middle school, but when you reach high school, there will be a few handsome and good looking beings in your life you could end up dating and loving. I will never tell you that boys are bad. They aren’t. IF you kiss a boy, at least you will have more opportunities than I had to kiss boys. YOu will one day experience the lovemaking I mentioned earlier. I will tell you though, when you become thirteen or older, you will likely need a lesson or two on safe lovemaking and such. Someday, you will marry a great person, man or woman or nonbinary being, but whichever being marries you, that being will be proud to have you as their wife. Your sister will be flower girl, and you will have many relations and friends at the wedding. I hope you will die an old lady warm in her bed, not now, not before you are born, not before I can redeem myself.

I want to be with your daddy, but to see you in my mind was a pleasant shock. Thank you for coming to me in a crazy vision, but albeit a crying spell. IF you have to be away for a while, I’ll just say I would miss you lots. I will miss Daddy, and if he widows me too early on, you will know his name and we will lay a rose on an altar for his spirit every year. His spirit will glide its way around, perhaps he will sit by and touch my shoulder. I will love him no matter what physical state he’s in.

Goodbye, Daughter of Heaven, and be well. I hope your mission wil be a success. I love you, and I will never forget you. Psssst, I hope you look like Daddy.

Your future mother,


New Updates on Things Not Discussed Prior

Dear readers,

While typing this, it is again another Pride Month. There are a couple things going on and I want to say this. I might be a bit bicurious about women and nonbinary folks, and there’s a nonbinary trans buddy of mine that my partner has had a thing for, so we all might do some threesome stuff. Now, content warning, some sexual hullabaloo, so hang tight y’all.

First and foremost, I don’t normally say this, but I might as well have answered this question long ago. My family, to answer a question you might ask about being gay, would probably decapitate or worse, mutilate me because they don’t like LGBTQIA+ peoples, and they believe “homosexuality is an abomiation before God” … blah blah blah blah blah. I don’t give a damn, and that whole abomination quote I wrote is not in any way intended to outwardly offend my friends, but it is intended to show you what my parents and family think. They’re all Roman Catholic. Ugh. Roman Catholicism is not friendly to LGBTQ folks, even going so far as to say they can’t have the Lord’s communion, and that is an affront to human decency and does not preserve and treasure life itself. Because I love men, that doesn’t make me straight as an arrow. I’d have possibly gone with one had I known that so many of my exes were jerks. Jason, Joey, and other jerkish dicks out there should really steer clear any woman if they’re gonna treat me the way they did. Perhaps women are good for me, but why would I date a woman? Not all women are as woke as my man is, so I don’t know. The problem with women is that well, they’re the ones with the baby carrying tools, right? Most of those are women. Women usually bear the kids, so if I married a female partner, I’d be in deep shit trying to find a sperm donor, pay up, and all of that if you wanna have a baby.

The pride month, June, is a good time to reflect on my experiences. Seems men treat me like jerks, except for my bisexual partner, so there you have it.As I type this, my beloved Esoteric Quality, yeah that’s him, always has me in mind. He’s been such a great guy. And he’s so woke, it’s not funny.

Anyway, here we are, having a great bunch of fun while Esoteric Quality chews out company after company, stating that he has to physically go places that are not accessible by bus, the companies being antiblind ableist. Ugh, can someone please turn the ableist switch off all these companies?

Also, I’m transitioning to a new Hulu account, and Clayton put me on his, plus his Disney Plus. He’s a super sweet guy. Yep, my beloved Esoteric Quality is the best, he gave me damn near everything. I love him so much, even he knows that a lot.

Anyway, I’m just sitting here, about to guard the hive, which I would call this tiny castle thing. Sorry, DJ Celrock.


My Moment of Triumph

Dear readers,

I did a thing today. I want to say this blog is going to make me a famous writer, perhaps. I applied for a writing job, but couldn’t get the lessons job, and most of the teachers jobs require a B.M.E. or Bachelor’s of Arts (B.A.) in music education or equivalent work experience. Under no circumstances am I going back to college. Here’s a few things I want to say about college:

1. It’s a waste of money, and you have to pretty much have no life but the homework, and it’s rare you get a professor who actually gets it.

2. There is no way in Hell I’m going to FSU or any college in Florida, and if I do college, maybe it should be in writing. Creative writing would be great, and I could try my hand at writing poetry and fantasy or romance. Or both fantasy and romance, but I want to write prose so bad.

3. IF I get this job, part time, yes, but it will help me in the end to support myself with the profits. I have needed any incentive to even get a job, but jobs that require me to move around and travel might have a blindness liability attached, and it’s not my fault. The lessons jobs were all like, “You have to be willing to travel to homes.” Well, some homes are outside the horrific and much needs to be done RTD bus system here in Denver. So public transport is not an option in some areas, but luckily, there’s more.I just want to say that Clayton may try to clean up the public transport system, make it more reliable, and all of that.

Another thing, I hope the attorney at Colorado Legal Services sees something in the attachments I sent her. It’s a woman, but yeah. I want to thank my good buddy Stephanie for recommending that job listing, and I want to thank my beloved Clayton for at least believing in me when nobody else does. I also want to announce that I’ll be promoting my Tee Spring store, but I have at least one thing to do. I need to take a selfie of me or a head shot of me in my crown, and put those on my phone cases, T-shirts, mugs, and a 16 oz pint glass. Now I’m gonna probably watch Titanic, I’m kinda out of it. We’re all out of it.


Reenabling comments with conditions

Dear readers,

As much of this blog from a period of time has had zero in the way of engagement, I reenabled comments, but I have conditions on doing so. One, no trolling. Two, no pro guardianship or anti blind ableist comments allowed. Three, anything sexual other than that posed by my partner is not allowed. Not unless you wanna play around, and you can get here by airplane.

I’d like to say I really can’t delete my facebook page because of the presence I have on a podcast space on Twitter. It’s complicated, but I’d like to point to one problem. People have called me entitled and bratty for all the wrong reasons. You guys really need to look in the mirror and see where you went wrong. I’m talking to the thousands of blind folks on Facebook who flat out troll and sit there and blast me for being entitled, incapable, bratty, etc. This will stop, and in comments here, I won’t accept it. So here are the rules for writing comments in the blog and these are not only the rules, but they are mandatory.

  1. absolutely no person shall write ableist commentary on here. You can’t write things about someone who is disabled and that offends the disabled community.
  2. No trolling comments are allowed.
  3. Anyone who reportedly says that I should be under someone else’s ownership, which is what guardianship is, will be blacklisted.
  4. Anyone who says I’m incapable and can’t do things will also be blacklisted.
  5. Any prior blacklisting folks will not be unblacklisted.
  6. No person shall write racist comments or those supporting one religion over others, including but not limited to Christianity.
  7. No person shall quote scripture to perform an act of spiritual abuse on my blog. Such comments, and likewise the commentator, will be blacklisted.
  8. No person shall threaten someone else in the comments, and the comments will only be here to engage in a dialogue about the subject matter in which the blog post is written about. Whatever.

IF anyone has any questions or comments, please feel free to write them here, but follow the rules. I’m going to follow these rules to the tee because my safety and the safety of my fans is the number one priority.


Why I Will be Leaving Facebook

Dear readers,

Many of you have subscribed to my blog on Facebook, and for this I thank you all. I’d like to talk about what’s going on in my world as of late.

One, Clayton Jacobs deleted his Facebook page because nobody cared one way or another about his requests for help, and all requests for help went unanswered. Recently, an ID went missing of his, and he needed it, but the trouble is that Arizona will take its sweet old time mailing him an ID. Not good. Also, we’re running into problems with people calling me out as a poor pity blind bitch, and that has to stop right now. First off, when I ask for money, I expect no criminal mischief record on my papers. A woman in my chorus I tried to ask about this with told me not to ask for money, suggested my boyfriend was a troll, using me to solve his problems, blah blah blah. Can I get a Hell no to the Denver Women’s Chorus for being elitist and hogging the wealth that I as a severely impoverished person have to deal with every single day and every hour? What’s it like to live on SSI and have to deal with wait lists, and we’re not dealing with wait lists for housing.

There’s one reason I’m deleting my Facebook and that’s three letters: N, F, B. Clayton is the only reason I would have kept it but he’s with me now, and I’m sick of all the unsupportive dramatic issues with family, and I’m also changing bank accounts because I do not want my Dad on my bank account, no representative payee for me. Anyone who suggests that should take their attitude and check it at the door. I expect expectations, sure, but sometimes you’re just too uppity, if you are a blind person with a family who loves and supports you. Guess what? My family is semi white supremacist, and I’ve got evidence of such.

So here’s the thing about me and Facebook. The big problem with Facebook is the toxicity and sensitivity of the communities at large, and people are going to expect Clay’s wedding pics to come up, but no, they won’t. My beloved Clayton will have all his share of love and devotion, trust me, I’m loyal to Clayton, and the people who are not loyal need to understand why we are deleting our Facebook pages. Here’s my side of why I’m deleting mine.

  1. Jason Owens was a monstrosity and attacked some of my friends, if not most of those believed to be weak and further permanently disabled. Jason might have met me on Skype, but he’s one damn person I don’t want to be around.
  2. Death threats because of this blog, Facebook posts, and other things. I had a friend for eleven years orchestrate a death threat via some Karen from Avilar, and she threatened me with pain, death, all that. I do not want people such as her chasing me down.
  3. I’m deleting Facebook because why bother posting anything if people are going to criminalize asking for money, reaching out for help, fundraising for a wedding or honeymoon, and many other things? Why Why bother? If you read this blog, I had many wonderful opportunities and ideas, but trust me, it’s going to be harder without Facebook, but it will be easier as time goes.
  4. There are people who have accused me of asking for pity pittances. Well, as punishment, I’d like to charge an exorbitant fee for any obvious abuses, i.e. “Stop being the poor pitiful blind person.” That is not my intent, and I’m done with this. Poor pity blind people are those who are elitist, white supremacist, and above all, dependent on family for support and so on. Humans being social creatures isn’t enough of a reason to keep Facebook. Blind community members are toxic, very very toxic and stupid. Most of them are, and I’ve had my share blocked. Let’s look at some.
  5. Two words about me were spoken by a guy in Grand Junction, no, three words. “You are incompetent.” “You are incapable.” This bastard probably committed domestic violence on his ex, the one he had the kids with, all that and I should have seen the red flags altogether. Clayton owns up to his wrongs and does the sentences prescribed, but he does not abuse me. I’m too valuable a person for him to throw aside, and he wouldn’t do that. Not even if I was a piece of trash, and I mean white trash.
  6. Here’s a reason I will delete Facebook summed up in a few sentences, but here’s a simple one. Too many people support guardianship, too many blind people support little old Beth Taurasi being under guardianship, and Clayton knows this. You all are about two steps away from seeing an empty slot where I once stood on Facebook.
  7. Another reason I want to delete Facebook? The criminalization of my asking for help, companionship, and company. I’m gonna call out a few different folks, and please note, it has nothing to do whatsoever with being any member of a minority protected class. Even minorities in protected groups i.e. LGBTQIA+ and Jewish folks and others are putting the blind people at the very very bottom of the barrel because we’re blind. Karen, a woman in the Denver Women’s Chorus, is not someone I would recommend asking for any favors, even those that are nonmonetary. I can’t even ask a favor of anyone in that whole group. Christine, while a loving grandmother, has called me out for being “entitled.” If she wants to read this blog, fine with me. But she needs to understand that blind people are at the super bottom of the pot as far as consideration for jobs, housing, and marriage and social things. People such as this girl called Chantal spread things about me that should have been between me and her.
  8. People think I am unstable, crazy, and other stigmatizing words having to do with mental illness. Well, to those who want to keep saying I’m crazy, stop it. Try going to a mental health institute or mental health treatment center, try going to a homeless shelter, try all of these things and you’ll see what I mean.
  9. There are too. many posts dealing with God and Jesus, religious bullshit that doesn’t apply to me anymore. I’d be damned if anyone even tells me being with Clayton is a sin. Guess what? Your calling me out as a whorish slut is a grave violation of my personal boundaries. So there you have it.
  10. Two words: Joey Hagemeier. HE could follow you around anywhere, and I have nothing against Korean adoption, blind people, etc. But I do have something against the three week dating period Joey and I had. He is bad news, doesn’t get it, and won’t be allowed back on a new FB page.

IF anyone has any objections to me leaving FB, please email me at denverqueen@gmx.com and do the right thing. Tell me about something that doesn’t have any connotations about winning or losing. Haters, you all will burn in Hell for how you treat Clayton and I. You haters will all have to pay a price for telling me I can’t reach out for help. Pay the piper or the piper pays nobody. Do you remember the story of the Pied Piper in Hamlin? Remember the rats? IF you want someone to clean up the rats and infestations of any kind of rodent, insect, or bird from your people’s property, you fucking pay the piper. I mean it, three words: Pay, The, Piper. IF you do not pay the piper, you will lose things most dear to you. I don’t care if you lose kids, dogs, your favorite book. Pay the piper.


The Fickle bitches of Humanity and Society: Something I Discovered While At the Airport

Dear Readers,

I’m writing to you all here live in Arizona, while spending time with Clayton, and now I have something I ought to tell you all. There are a lot of fickle bitches in humanity, and you could have named a billion of those. But here they are.

1. Real estate is a fickle bitch, right, Kelly and mac?

2. Credit cards and all things financial seem fickle to me.

3. The dog industry. If you buy a puppy for your kiddos, you will find they could be a lemon, and they still wanna sell you a half dead puppy. Its a fickle bitch, quite literally, if you can’t buy a puppy that’s healthy enough to survive the shipping process and not be marked up to a high price. Better, just get a dog from a shelter.

4. Weddings. If you wanna get married to your sweetheart, you’re better off doing it without all the fickle pricing on things like wedding tea and party favors for guests, better yet they tell you to do it in a courtroom with a justice of the peace. The thing is it’s fickle because disabled adults can’t and won’t do such things until SSI and SSDI is deemed an equal to those who earn money through jobs. We are subject to financial penalty, so weddings are more than just a fickle bitch. They are such an evil fickle bitch that they’re not worth spending your money on.

5. Movie theater tickets are a real fickle bitch. How much would you pay for movie tickets today versus the movie tickets yesteryear? Yep, that’s why movie theater stuff is a fickle bitch. Movie popcorn isn’t fresh, either. So go for the nachos. Oh wait, nachos aren’t fresh either, I’d rather make those with killer cheese and not the fickle ass cheese sauce they put on chips. To do real nachos, add beans, meat, and other stuff.

6. Customer service is a fickle bitch. Try calling your computer store or manufacturer and asking for help. Try going to a store to shop, only to have someone rip you off. Either way, customer service is a real fickle bitch. I can’t stand when they refuse services to me as a blind person, and it makes me sick when they don’t help Clayton until I or someone else speaks up. It’s a real fickle thing.

Well, I’m done here. So Im going to stop right. here and I’ll explore more of the fickle bitches of man.

My Vacation and the Rules for Reaching the Denver Queen

Dear readers,

For eight long and epic days, I will join Clayton on the front lines in Arizona, fighting with him, alongside him, and we will join forces for some real epic good days ahead. I will not be taking calls, but here’s the deal. I know sometimes money is short, sometimes it’s just awful. I want to take care of myself, Clayton, and Trenton and tonight, as I type this, we’re going on a little date to a bar so that I can support a buddy of mine on bass guitar in some country band. This guy’s better known for his steel guitar work, but hell, I wanna see him do some good work on whatever instrument he plays. Musicians are cool and such.

So here are the rules for the trip I swear y’all are gonna need to follow.

  1. No calls, unless you’re bleeding, dying, relative is bleeding or dying, or a mutual friend is bleeding or dying.
  2. No hate speech comments on any social media will be tolerated.
  3. Don’t make eyes at me, I’m not interested in anyone but Trenton or Clayton at this moment.
  4. IF you want Trenton to make you coffee and I’m not there, you may text me.
  5. Don’t text me if you are a weirdo who has previously had issues with me.
  6. Text me if you need to talk but my work is limited as I will focus my attention and resources on Clayton.
  7. Don’t try to interrupt a meal.
  8. Please if you’re gonna text me, don’t send pics.
  9. This applies to gents, don’t send dick pics at all. I don’t care if I know you from Adam, just don’t.
  10. I’m not going to sext any weirdos in my circle, so if you think you’re gonna mess with me that way, you can’t.

Those are the ten rules I will follow on the vacation. This is going to be pretty cool, honestly, and I hope to the universal God that I’m going to survive this.

I love you all and will continue to write my blog as I did years ago with Blake, but this time, I’m going to have a folding keyboard with me, so yeah. Y’all behave and I’ll be back in Denver in eight days.


My Blog on the Magic Keyboard for Mackintosh

Dear readers,

I’m using a wireless keyboard to type on my Mac today. I unplugged the windows keyboard, but yeah, I’ve got my whole mac and all the peripherals out here in this the fair living room of the Denver Queen. I’m sitting in my rolling chair, but if I were to do hands on teaching, piano that is, I probably would not be able to teach such because no piano bench proper. We could of course get the bench to my house or apartment when I get back from Arizona. Yes, you heard right. Going to Arizona to visit my dearly beloved Clayton, and my feelings are just running crazy. We have such deep conversations my brain goes ballistic, and my thinking is turned on, supercharged. I can’t imagine what kind of weirdness awaits me there in Arizona, but I hope it’s nothing serious. Clayton is a sweet and gentle person with a big golden heart who’s been through too damn much. Perhaps I deserved it after much fallout with guys like Jason, Joey, and Blake. It’s much deserved after all the homies there in Arizona and Georgia failed me so bad it wasn’t funny.

About the Arizona trip, though, I’m having fun figuring out what the hell to pack and what not to check in my suitcase. Damn, Southwest doesn’t allow self defense sprays in anything. Ugh. Like how are women supposed to protect themselves? Women are supposed to be able to protect and defend themselves from rape, but that’s a battle I can’t fight right now. What I’m seriously worried about is meeting Clayton for the first time in my whole life and I hope it goes the way he and I both need it to go. I hope he’s happy with me, happy as hell. He’s going to be super happy to see me, and maybe we’ll have a ball, maybe it’ll crumble like beef in a pot. But I don’t know, I will never know for sure but when it comes down to it, Clayton and Trenton both love me to death, and they both need something special to happen. Clay lived because he fought to live, and Trenton thinks he doesn’t deserve me, but I said, love doesn’t deserve anyone, but I’ve always known that love doesn’t care where you live, it finds you and pulls you to a person or people. I think I found my crew, both of them, and I have a really good connection with someone who’s happy to show me stuff. I want to one day make a mountain of cupcakes and such, arrange my home in a big way, and have some parties and such. Trenton and I want a house, but this baby right now is not a real baby human being. I’m here to also say I have a full piano once again, and I hope things go good between me and the piano. I want to lay out some tracks and such, and I’ll even go so far as to email or cloud space those things if there’s a collaborator on it. I want to record something, and maybe Clayton would do a feature on one of my own tracks. I do want to be able to connect my midi stuff to the Mac, do things on it, all that stuff. Now it’s possible because my new piano has midi capability, and it’s awesome. Just plain awesome. Everybody’s happy that I have this, and one of my good friends who’s helping me get this good job says that now I have new toys to play with. Ha ha, I say. Toys? I don’t quite know about that, but toys? Nothing in my apartment so far is a toy, but you wanna see real toys? Check out a Barbie collection of some girl, and you get real toys. What about Hot Wheels for you males and those who identify as the type who likes action and such? What about plushies for those who really like to cuddle and such? Those are good toys, and there’s the wild and weird kind, like dildos and such. I’m not saying I would never have toys, but I might play with one if that means total stimulation. Yeah, I’m a wild child, but I don’t care.

I’m very happy to say that this blog is going to be updated almost every day in Arizona, almost. I want to journal about this trip, and you all will hear different things about this trip. I hope it goes super well, and we click like we do online. Clayton has never indicated he intended to turn his back on me, not once. He knows I’ve been more loyal and fiercely protective of him because I care that much, we’ve both been through shit, we know what it is like. We know what it is to have nobody at your back, nobody having your support and nobody caring a bit about you. I’m serious. I have a big problem with people if they don’t realize that Clayton’s sweet and funny and smart and intelligent, if they continually violate his rights and responsibly tell him they aren’t interested in seeing his rights are acknowledged. His dealings with bad people are just as you’d expect from any human being. The big thing is that people need to quit threatening this guy, making his life hard, and violating his rights. They need to quit. Period. HE deserves freedom from being in the so called sighted world, and I’m ready to embrace anything to make sure my life is full and happy and that my kids’ lives are full and happy. Did I mention kids?

I want to start a family, and that in and of itself isn’t just an act of rebellion, it’s a damn act of revolution in my opinion. Kids with a blind mother and father is a total act of rebellion against years of abuse, neglect, isolation, threats, and other problems. My parents will never know their grandkids by me, but even Trenton’s mom is better than most for the role of grandmother, and she’d make an excellent black elder woman figure in my kids’ lives. She has a few things going, a good job, a good life, two fluffy kitty cats, and a good son. What else could she want? Kids? Grandkids? I figured this would happen, but because I’m helping Clay get the house he wants, I’m helping him with his tracks and albums, I’m helping him with stuff, maybe the whole relationship between us is not suspicious. It’s good, trust me, and Trenton is a good man, and he’ll have the opportunity provided he doesn’t snore too loudly and I think I activated the Snoring Loudly Beta too many times to count.

For those who wonder, Clayton is experienced and wise, strong and true and a loyal friend. What else could I ask for? With him and Trenton on my team, I couldn’t ask for better. Then there’s all my other goofball friends. I have friends who call me funny names, one calls me a goofball and laughs weird. But I’ll intro you guys to him with his consent. Well, okay, you heard him on the Throne Room with Beth Taurasi when he played the harmonica. My buddy Joseph played the harmonica because that’s what he does. He loves playing that instrument, and I’d have him play it for me sometime if he could please get a full on harmonica and not just one of them tiny bars.

Then there’s all my other friends who are just plain weird. I have friends who have terrible senses of humor. Well, not terrible, but dark and dry and wild. Take my buddy Jessie. He’s got this crazy sick sense of humor, and Trenton and Jessie put together in a room would be fatal. I mean fatal. They’d be in the room talking, and Jessie might utter a messy ass sexy joke or two, and Trenton would echo the same joke, and laugh his ass off. That’s how bad Jessie’s humor is, but it’s irresistible. Writing this blog couldn’t be more fun without Jessie to light things up.

So what am I grateful for today? Well, here are five things I am grateful for today:

  1. I’m grateful for the weather. As much as I despise talk of weather related subjects, the weather today was actually a lucky strike. Yes, not a cigarette, but a lucky strike in that the sun was shining and the air was cool and comfortable, and it felt awesome.
  2. I am grateful for my beloved guys. Both are funny, intelligent, and sweet, and present a good balance of strength and gentleness I cannot imagine life without.
  3. I’m also grateful for music, and the ability to play a weighted hammer piano. It’s amazing, and I can’t wait to record my whole life story on this thing.
  4. I’m grateful that I have been given the gift of life but moreover, this grateful thought is about the gift of song. And the gift of empathy. I’m grateful for the ability to see the things people need and to be able to meet those needs. Example, Clayton wants to lay down some tracks and have some serious fun. I hope we can eventually use Garage Band to do such.
  5. As much as I want to say I’m grateful for books, that’s what I’m grateful for. Books. I love books, and books give me joy and knowledge beyond what can be given elsewhere.

That’s all for now, folks. And if you want to, follow me on Instagram, Twitter, and other places. @throneroomdq on the metaverse, Twitter, and more, and soon you will hear the Throne Room talkspace on Saturdays, so join in.


An Open Letter

Author’s Note: The following contains some if few or some more spoilers for the Handmaid’s Tale, any season applies. This also contains some sensitive information and I hope you will read carefully.

Dear Jorge,

I’m writing this letter to you as a matter of principle. You said some pretty hurtful things about my beloved Clayton, for whom my life is going to probably revolve, I don’t quite know. Clayton has treated me with nothing but loyalty and respect, but you think you can tell me he’s the fool. Here are a few things that made me cringe when I saw your last messages to me.

  1. This is the big thing. You said Clayton gets off on the handmaid hierarchy thing, as though I am not Beth, but ofClayton. That is not true. He does not roll with commander types such as Jason or Wes or anyone else who would reportedly want to hurt me and Clayton altogether. Clayton has been nothing but a friend and a genuine caring person toward me, no hierarchy has been seen in this. What’s weird is that he caught me red handed watching the show, the handmaid’s Tale to be exact, and he asked me why I watch such things. He pointed to my own mental health, I just have to say this. It’s a warning, it’s a foreshadowing of what could be to come if we all don’t stand up and shout back at the commander types, the white supremacists, and the fools who don’t see the truth in all this. I watched a documentary about Atwood, Margaret Atwood, the book’s author, and she did lots of homework before she wrote the first words in the book. As any author should do the same. IF it weren’t for folks like Atwood, I don’t know where we’d be.
  2. You say that Clayton is a fool, but he said you were the fool. You dudes better stay away from each other, I guess. My brothers would have killed each other in their bunks, but this kind of fighting is worse. I don’t like a lot of conflict.
  3. You say I’ll have a right to die on a hill. Well, at least my name is my name, my body is mine, and if I give this thing a name, the name is assigned at birth and such. My name is Elizabeth Ann Taurasi, it will never become Mrs. Steven Rudy, get the song reference.
  4. You ditched my commitment ceremony with Trenton, which makes me so sick. Why you did this, I’ll never fucking understand. Don’t ditch your friends when you say you’re gonna do something for them.
  5. You really need to give the Handmaid hierarchy a damn rest, fool. You really don’t get what these women will represent in a future life and Clayton knows this gets me riled up more than anything, he deeply caring about my mental health doesn’t bother me.
  6. You also tried to not understand me because of my mental health, and you blamed me for any breakups that could occur. You broke code with me when you were all, I’d rather be single than deal with someone who yells. Bullshit, if I don’t scream at a guy who wants to throw his dick in the wrong direction, I have every right to. I don’t want to have any pain while doing such things, so if a supremacist of any kind comes knocking, I’ll just throw him out the door with a few things. I would force all the white supremacists who want to egg themselves on to parade outside naked, and I’d write their crimes on their chests even with the hair hiding some of it, just wait till I get my hands on tattooing equipment. I should laugh sarcastically because these people don’t think we’re people, and that includes myself, Clayton,and Trenton, my beloved partner.
  7. You disgrace humanity with a belief that I am being used. It is my right to be either a sex object or not a sex object, and I’m not a sex object. From what I understand, sex objects can be found in the fictionalized hamlet of Fat Lip, Arizona, blame that on Blake. Fat Lip is a place where you get a big fat swollen lip, probably where you were punched in the face because you violated some rule or something. In other words, don’t mess with me or you’ll take that trip to Fat Lip, Arizona, and you’ll have lips the size of Hollywood girls’ lips and you’ll also have some chapping and maybe a few drops of Jupiter running down your shirt. Just don’t accuse my beloveds of using me, and no, Trenton and Clayton would not dare mistreat me.

If you want me back, here’s what you do:

  1. Worship me as your queen. Duh. Well, okay, not that extreme. But you must put a picture of me in your mind, in your living room, and remember that when you fool around, I’m watching. I’m so watching you.
  2. Bow to Clayton when you see him and say to him, “I’m sorry I’ve been the fool. I’m the dumbass who decided to accuse you of using the Queen as a maid.” Perhaps he will tell you that you’ve been foolish, you’ve been stupid, or both.
  3. Stop making me look bad and get the fuck off of other people’s pages who dislike or hate myself, Trenton, or Clayton. We are done with all the foolishness, and I don’t want my vacations and other things ruined. Thank you.



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