"Game of Thrones--Blind Arya's Training (clip)". Gogtash. March 24, 2019.
I am writing this after having written the post below (which I have no re-read to check for terrorist hacking/deletions/rewrites/typos inserted, etc). Someone very kindly put a video about how "you are special" was the theme of another very romantic song from a band that inspired me years ago, and today inspired me once again. I then thought of the saga of Game of Thrones, which I am ensconced in the middle of, watching from the middle to the end of the 7th season, then going back to Season 1, to go through the entire sequence until I can watch Season 8--and then on maybe another round of this epic drama (not 100% in support of the show, as statistically I think there is not a drama that I can say I am 100% in favor of in one way or another there is always an element of criticism. If there were a drama that came close, Game of Thrones would be almost as close as some of the more favorable works of art presented to the public.
The theme of the blind person being attacked by a vicious provocateur (in training, ostensibly) is something that reminds me of my particular situation. I am always under attack from every blind angle, from behind, when I am in deep sleep (teleported and physically attacked as the microchip implants force unconsciousness even when I am being damaged physically I feel nothing until waking and then I am always injected with pain-killer so the injuries become apparent only a day or two later---
This induced sort of blindness while under attack is featured most hospitably by the creators of Game of Thrones in the Arya Stark training segments in this house of death, no-name mausoleum containing peeled faces of suicided no-name willing victims and often targets of assassination (the temple mausoleum is a cult death organization with pay-for-assassination recruits/neophytes in training, as Arya Stark was in this series of episodes from Game of Thrones.
She was being trained in a Zen-sort of assassination actor's morphology in order to assume the gait, personality and voice of the dead peeled faces exhumed from the chamber of death, mounted in the walls of the enormous sepulchure pillars of mounted death masks peeled off targets and suicided victims alike.
I grew up with a blind person in my household and as a child I would "practice" walking in pitch black spaces like the basement--a cold cement-floored and musty place (terrorists had poured water into the area while my family was on vacation--we returned with the entire area flooded at least half a foot high into the entire basement area--forevermore that area was damp, clammy and had a resonant nasty sensation--It also ironically was where the washer and dryer were, and the little art table space my mother made for me and my brothers and sisters to play and make art in--but the cold and damp that resulted from the terrorist attack on my house made that area to inhospitable to play or work in---(my family "accepted" the attack and left that area in a kind of nasty condition, under orders from the Nazi terror network. Unfortunately my family complied with every attack, mutilation and subordination decree but I had no idea all of this was contractual and so I essentially 'rebelled" in some way and had no notion of what was "expected" of me not to compete or have any original or creative output and etc....to continue the theme below.
I practiced barefoot in this dark basement with the tiny windows situated so high upon the walls that the tiny windows were at the level of the ceiling--I would walk barefoot and with all lights off at night so it was pitch black--just to practice being "blind" and to have the experience my blind step-father had while walking around. I am still unused to people teleporting me while sleeping (the equivalent in this context of being hit from behind while blind)--I can never get used to people coming at me from oblique angles or from behind while I am out in public to attack my clothing, hair or property--but it's a similar experience to what this clip of Arya Stark being "trained" by a woman who really wants to kill her in this temple of death and assassination that she chose to be trained in. I would like to hope that my outcome of this situation of being endlessly attacked while "blinded" by sleep in teleportation, drugged up, people coming at me using vector-analysis software to target me from around every corner and aisles while in public and most dangerously while driving--that I can get into a higher position and somehow prove to have trained to become a master of the art of blindly destroying my enemy by becoming expert at defense while at this seeming disadvantage. Either way, the Game of Thrones sequences showing this training is exceptional and well-done and at least it's inspiring.
A major component of Arya Stark's "training" is in losing her identity. When asked what her name was, if she responded that her name was Arya Stark, she was beaten with a large stick. When she said she "had no name" she was granted clemency for a very brief moment in between the other hits and assaults and deprivations (in training to be an assassin with "no name"). "A girl has no name" is what she was trained to repeat. In the end, she came to embrace her name and personal identity to the point that her strength in knowing who she was, her name, her identity-- was almost unrivaled by the spiteful and the devious--. A girl has no name, the male in charge of the temple of assassins and murder and death had her repeat. She emerged to take what she needed to destroy the men who tried to rape and destroy her family, her womanhood and to partner with her raped and beaten sister--I have not gotten to the end of this saga so I don't know exactly what becomes of them in the last Season. I assume they will emerge triumphant over the male domination that wants women silenced or subservient and obedient and blind and always getting told to be silent, good, obey and be blind so much the easier to be a vulnerable and soft target for when the assassination (of spirit) is ordered upon the willing apprentice of self-sacrifice.
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Every single day I am cleaning a shirt which I bought long ago, that I keep hung up next to the open patio door because I use it when the wrap-around satong I use is sprayed and filthy and I have nothing to wear. I hand sewed wrist cuffs that are kind of psychedelica, and then began adding a purple satin base piece of material on the bottom. Every SINGLE DAY they are spraying filthy stinking substances in the arm pits of this shirt. It is this stench they spray on everything that reeks of dead meat or something organic that died or was spewed out of some orifice or I don't know what. It's stinking and has that laboratory chemical that makes it adhere to the material it is sprayed on. Just like the poison inside my body--it sticks to the bones, it sticks to the porcelain when I finally, after weeks and years of effort, get it to liquify and get out of the hard shell embedded inside my back, into my spine/hips/skull/legs, etc etc from head-to-toe it is cemented and the density is like cement. But coming out, like the stink they put on my clothing and furniture/bed/walls, etc under every piece of furniture, between every crack of the sofas and next to tables--it remains despite spraying bleach and cleaning substances, perfumes, etc. What they use to make my body, clothing and home toxic is intended to not come out except to replace the items---permanent. Nothing except the most strenuous of attempts and removal agents gets any of these toxic substances out of my body/clothing/furniture and getting these terrorists out of my life is also as difficult to remove as the permanent toxins I refer to. They latch on just like these laboratory poisons and try to never let go of their victim they feed off parasitically, as long as they can glob on they also never get off--
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But what I have made which I think is beautiful is being destroyed--so they can constantly say that everything I am is nothing. What I make they destroy and copy and steal and rob and then destroy it and me so I can't make more. I can't write creative concepts because so many of these parasites have stolen verbatim words and stories I have written. The refrain they all claim is they owe me nothing but more torture for getting upset about their pirating of my material. They then claim I am a "loser" and have never done anything in my life and just have nothing to claim as being exceptional about myself. They then continue to block and destroy all my efforts to get out of the cavernous gaping hole they have been endlessly pushing me into as I fight to climb out the US government assists in this endless suppression/oppression effort that is a global structure of discrimination and destruction and blaming the victim is the one and foremost prong of their multi-pronged warfare against me--and others I can't assume that my situation is even original. That I can't find any supporters as all victims of this targeting are deliberately kept as far apart and unaware of one another as possible.
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Still, it's disgusting to constantly be cleaning stains and filth from things I have spent hours creating and then sewing very carefully, stitch-by-stitch by stitch requiring hours of patience and doting work to make all appear as clean and artistic as possible. Not finished with some of the clothing because I have been so ill for so long--every day that I detox I spend sitting in a stupor unable to think, read, concentrate or move--the poisons are so deadly I am so ill every day now that poisons trapped into my body for decades I am managing to eek out of my system--so dehabilitating.
I can't finish the pieces, but when I take them off this rack I see stains, the stink on this purple blouse I turned into a mini-dress with that purple satin frilly bottom stinks every single day with this dead meat spray that has also been put on items every day around my room for years--whatever it is, it's a dead animal or semen or something filthy like these creeps attacking me--and this system and the people and their tactics who operate within it. That they are proud of this kind of behavior bespeaks of how filthy they really are on every real honest level of their endless lying fake facades to the public about how wonderful they claim they are and how "superior" they are--according to what standards it's basically if they can yell like a fascist, abuse and control with cruelty, and smile with deference to anybody they need to kiss up to, and posture with that Nazi pig sniffing the air posture that is supposed to imply they are somehow superior--that awful Nazi "aristocratic" pose that so many emulate in H-wood who covertly perform these low and disgusting acts and plan and orchestrate this to be spewed into my life and body and home. Like all they say and do with the lie that they are superior, this is to imply that I am somehow dirty and not they. Like the rape, that it's me who is a porn disposable prostituted sex slave and not they who are foul and nasty loveless whoring scum who are the sleazy and disgusting perverted filthy pig apes but their behavior is supposed to imply that it's me, not they.
And with everything else filthy and disgusting they do in order to destroy as much of me as possible. All I do is clean and fight to remove poisons and stinking filth from my body and personal belongings. It's really all I do, and most of the rest of the time I am too ill to move physically so I can't clean the filth that I am forced to live with and around or get away from it or them.
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