Tag Archives: defamation

“What is Laura Hiding? The Cassiopaeans Answer”

Note: (“Frank Scott” is a pseudonym used by request of “Frank Scott.” For details of the dynamics of the early Cassiopaean Group, the reader may wish to read Thomas French’s article, published in the St. Petersburg Times, February, 2000.)

Open letter from Jay Weidner:

December 15, 2001

Dear Laura and Ark:

I too was misled by Vincent Bridges. Although he is a brilliant scholar, he has misrepresented his past and his own contribution to the book we co-wrote ‘A Monument to the End of Time’. Continue reading

Share

Jay’s Got A Golden Ticket ?

Why have Witless Weidner and the Cyberstalker Factory posted to dozens of blogs and message boards looking for a “victim of the house raffle” if Weidner  “bought six tickets to the house raffle” as he claims?

Jay Weirdner’s Youtube Comment pg #20

XiaDai I bought 6 tickets to the house raffle and no winner was ever declared. You are the one who knows not what they are talking about. Laura admitted that she never declared a winner and sold the house. You can look up the papers where she sold her house. She lies. Get it? If she lies about this than she will lie about anything. Wake up!

weidnerjay 1 year ago

Jay Weirdner’s Youtube Comment pg #23

chuallen you are wrong. Laura has admitted that she sold the house. I have the paperwork with her signature. I was watching the house raffle because I purchased 6 tickets.

weidnerjay 1 year ago

 

Jay Weidner has posted this statement on his website

If you purchased a ticket in the House Lottery Scam please contact the Pasco County Sheriff:
Jennifer Morton
352-518-5014
jmorton@pasosheriff.org

Weidner has repeatedly stated that he  purchased SIX tickets to the House Raffle, now he is cruising the net looking for “victims?” So why didn’t he file a complaint himself?  Because it’s a crime to file a false statement with the Sheriff, and Weidner knows it. Continue reading

Share

Nouveaux délires pathologiques de « Jean »

Après avoir publié la confession de Jean (qui montre de façon « pour le moins » crue son paysage intérieur aberrant), je suis encore à ce jour confrontée à ses tentatives d’intimidation – qui me visent personnellement ainsi que mes amis (Laura, sa famille). Le but étant de miner ma confiance en moi et ma liberté de choix – un de ces choix étant de démarrer une nouvelle vie sans lui. C’est une sacrée leçon de vie, une leçon qui j’espère aidera les lecteurs à approfondir leurs connaissances concernant la nature intrinsèquement pathologique de certaines personnes, et la façon dont leurs agissements peuvent affecter chacun d’entre nous.

J’ai reproduit ci-dessous son dernier email, auquel je vais répondre point par point. Comme d’habitude, je partage ces données de façon anonyme, en supprimant toute référence personnelle, etc., car mon but n’est pas de lui rendre la vie plus difficile, mais de donner aux lecteurs l’opportunité de déchiffrer le langage et le fonctionnement pathologiques. Ces données, prises dans la vie réelle, offrent une véritable occasion d’apprentissage. C’est aussi un bon exercice pour moi, car devoir examiner ses délires avec la distance critique nécessaire à l’analyse objective – les examiner de façon « clinique » et ensuite partager mes commentaires – soulage quelque peu l’angoisse et l’appréhension d’avoir à supporter ses menaces et tentatives d’intimidation sans personne d’autre pour témoigner de sa logique tordue.

Maintenant, si c’est à moi de réfléchir comment m’y prendre.
Il y a ici de quoi alimenter plusieurs chefs d’accusation : [contre LKJ et sa famille]
– diffamation publique [en référence à la publication de mon témoignage et de sa confession]

Il ne s’agit pas de diffamation publique, puisque des pseudonymes ont été utilisés – en dépit du fait que plus d’une personne dans l’entourage de Jean gagnerait à être informé de son comportement indécent, prédateur et déshumanisé. Le texte est authentique, ce sont ses propres mots – ce qu’il ne nie pas. Comme il  m’avait écrit lui-même à l’époque :

Au fait, tant que j’y pense, lors du formatage de ma machine j’ai oublié de sauvegarder le vomitif en 20 feuillets que je t’ai fait parvenir. Continue reading

Share

More pathological rants from “Jean”

After my publication of Jean’s confession (which quite graphically shows his appalling inner landscape), I still have to face his desperate attempts to intimidate me and my friends (Laura, her family) and to destroy my confidence and freedom of choice, choice which was to start a new life away from him. It is indeed an intense learning experience, one which I hope will help readers to deepen their knowledge about the inherently pathological nature of some people, and how it can affect each and every one of us.

I’ve copied below his last email, which I’ll be addressing step by step. As usual, I’m sharing this data anonymously, removing any personal reference, etc., because my point is not to make his life more difficult, but to give readers an opportunity to decipher ‘psychopathological’ language and mode of functioning. These data, taken from real life, offer a great learning opportunity. It’s also a good exercise for me, as having to look at his sick rants with the critical distance needed for objective assessment – to look at it clinically and publish my comments for others to read – somewhat relieves the anxiousness and apprehension of having to read his threats and attempts at intimidation on my own, without anyone to bear witness to his twisted thinking. Continue reading

Share

The French Connection Redux – Cult Accusations and The Deviant Mind

fotcm logoSott.net is a popular news and news analysis web site, but how many of our readers know what goes on behind the scenes here? For those who don’t, we think it’s time you were brought up to speed, for a very specific reason.

First, a little history.

Sott.net (aka Signs of the Times) began as a small internet project of Laura Knight-Jadczyk back in 2002. Particularly since the 9/11 attacks, Laura had been keeping a close eye on current events and noticing the increasing levels of propaganda and lies that were being passed off as ‘news’. She had also begun to notice that many very interesting stories were receiving very little coverage by the major media outlets, not to mention the items that were being scrubbed from the net. Her natural response (natural for her, but perhaps not everyone), was to create a web site to remedy this. In the 9 years since then, Signs of the Times has grown into the Sott.net you know and appreciate today and holds true to the initial remit of its founder – to bring some truth and sanity to an increasingly mendacious and insane world.

Laura’s penchant for digging into stories to find the truth of the matter did not begin in 2002 however. For many years previous (all of her adult life in fact), Laura had been driven by a need to figure out the nature of the world in which she lived. Her long years of studies and research spanned a breathtaking array of subjects, from ancient history, to psychology to the paranormal and back again. It should be said that her studies and research never strayed too far from the standard academic views on these topics. In the early 1990’s however, a number of (at the time) inexplicable experiences (detailed in her autobiography Amazing Grace) prompted Laura to delve into research on – horror of horrors – the hysterical world of UFOs and alleged alien abductions. As she is wont to say, of all the people who never wanted to know anything about UFOs, she deserves a place at the head of the line. But there it was, things had happened that were inexplicable and Laura wasn’t going to shove them under the rug.

To cut a long story short, recognizing the paranormal essence of the UFO phenomenon and including this as part of her research into the branch of the paranormal known as ‘psychical research’ (wildly popular in late 19th and early 20th century England and America – seances, table-tipping, contacting dead relatives etc), she decided to try her own little experiment using what is traditionally called a ouija or spirit board, but which is really just a square piece of cardboard with the letters of the alphabet on it. Again, the reasons for this experiment and the research that went into selecting the tool for exploring the paranormal are detailed in Amazing Grace.

Enter the ‘Cassiopaeans’

 

After about two years of weekly ‘sessions’ where she and a friend or two or three would sit down on a Saturday evening and ask the stereotypical questions like “is anybody there” and receive back mostly garbled nonsense, a shockingly coherent series of ‘messages’ began to be relayed, spelled out, letter by letter via the board. Thus began what has become known as the ‘Cassiopaean transmissions‘, or to be more precise, a rather interesting experiment in ‘superluminal communication’ (based on the suggestion from the ‘Cassiopaeans’ that they are “us in the future“).

With the crucial input of her mathematical physicist husband Arkadiusz Jadczyk (whom she married in 1998 as a result of matchmaking by the Cassiopaeans), Laura used the often cryptic messages received from the ‘Cassiopaeans’ as clues to new directions for her ongoing research. As Laura has often said publicly herself, the Cassiopaean information has always been the 10% inspiration to the 90% ‘perspiration’ that she and her fellow researchers have put into their work over the past 15 years. Nothing has been, or ever will be, taken on blind faith. After all, any purported Truth, by definition, must be able to stand rigorous testing.

During this time, in addition to her other work, Laura began to post the information obtained via the board sessions on her newly created web site Cassiopaea.org (which also hosted the original Signs of the Times page). These ‘transcripts’ were received with much public interest (not to mention commentary!) and within a year Laura decided to start a Yahoo discussion group as a venue for those interested in her work to discuss the details among themselves. Prior to this her inbox had been flooded daily with questions and comments, so this was a necessary move.

In early 2003 Laura and Ark moved to France with their family. The main reasons for this trans-Atlantic relocation were Laura’s increasing revulsion at the path on which the Bush government had set the formerly democratic USA, and Ark’s desire to pursue his work and collaborate with other scientists free from the strictures he had experienced within the American scientific establishment. Rather than pursue the (potentially) long process of putting their house up for sale (George Bush was banging the war drums), Laura had the somewhat eccentric idea of holding a raffle. Tickets were issued to 1) anyone who made a $50 donation; 2) anyone who sent in a written request via snail-mail, a condition required by law. Approximately 300 tickets were issued in return for donations made and approximately 2000 tickets were issued to those who requested one by mail and made no donation whatsoever. This was not surprising given the limited marketing potential of announcing a house raffle on a relatively unknown web site.

Now, this sum of approximately $15,000 was not exactly a good deal for a house that was valued at over $100,000, but Ark and Laura made arrangements for a loan to be taken out to cover the difference, picked a winner, and left the matter in the hands of a trusted neighbor and an attorney he had recommended. Their moving expenses were supplemented by a generous gift from a friend. As it turned out (after Laura and Ark had moved to France), the winner of the house raffle was apparently stymied by the neighbor and attorney who seemingly wanted the house to go into foreclosure so they could pick it up at auction. Laura was notified about this situation by both her U.S. bank and another neighbor who stepped in to purchase the house – with Laura’s agreement – and stop the foreclosure. The main outstanding feature of this debacle was that the only real winners were the attorneys. The take-home fact from this incident is this: if Laura and Ark had decided to INTENTIONALLY run a ‘Raffle Scam’ it would not have turned into such a lawyer feeding frenzy because the ending would have been a pre-planned part of the con. Raffle scams are one of the simplest cons to pull off … any moron can do it. The scammers have a faithful follower (or even a sock puppet on the Net) gleefully posting “I won, I won” all over the web. The grand prize (car, house, etc) changes title to an anonymous corporation in Delaware … and that’s that. But none of this happened, which spells out clearly that there was no intent to defraud anyone. There was no raffle ‘scam’ and there were no ‘victims’ … just a fouled up fundraiser that didn’t turn out the way anyone planned, especially Laura.

The people who actually made donations for raffle tickets to the “seemed like a good idea at the time” fundraiser know and accept honest mistakes as a fact of life, and they don’t hold Laura and Ark to some unreasonable standard of perfection. Members bought their tickets to support their group, it was their money, and not a single one of them has brought a verifiable public complaint against Laura and Ark. Not one! The raffle was held honestly and fairly. The names of all those who responded were put into a ‘hat’ and one name was randomly selected, and that person was notified that they had won and given information about how to contact the lawyer handling the transfer of ownership. What happened after that was completely out of Laura and Ark’s hands because they had moved to France.

If anyone who actually took part in the raffle had a beef with Laura, Ark, the group, school, etc, they could easily have written a letter asking for a refund on their ticket, posted it on the many slander sites and forum threads….and SIGNED THEIR NAME TO IT. A legitimate dissatisfied raffle ticket holder could have filed an action in small claims court and posted that paperwork too.

None of this has happened, check for yourself … there are NO pending lawsuits and/or outstanding criminal charges against Laura Knight-Jadczyk and/or Arkadiusz Jadczyk! These are LIES being spread all over the Internet by Vincent Bridges, Jay Weidner, Chris Horlacher and their tiny troop of deranged minions. They’ve taken an honest mistake that Laura made and apologized for years ago, and twisted it to the point that it’s totally unrecognizable when compared to the actual truth of the matter. But enough on that topic.

In 2003, with growing public interest in their work, and an increasing number of irons in the fire, Laura and Ark decided to incorporate the Quantum Future Group (QFG), a US non-profit organisation with a mission to:

“…increase the effectiveness and impact of the results of research in the varied scientific and socio-cultural fields that are geared toward seeking solutions to the fundamental sufferings and limitations of humanity. QFG also funds other organizations and individuals engaged in similar pursuits.”

All of QFG’s finances (which are entirely derived from book sales and donations (Laura turns every penny she makes back into the work)) are publicly available for anyone interested in viewing them. The major events in the QFG calender since 2005 (which include several conferences, one, in the University Paul Sabatier in Toulouse, France) are available on the QFG web site.

During 2003, three people who had been working with Laura and Ark and had visited them in 2002 in Florida decided to join them in France and help out in a more practical way with the increasing workload of managing, editing and writing material for Cassiopea.org, including Signs of the Times, and Laura’s continuing research.

On March 8th of 2003, Laura began a sort of online diary – “Further Adventures with the Cassiopaeans: The French Connection”. The “French Connection” allusion was meant to imply esoteric connections, but things rapidly took a different turn. Laura didn’t know when she started it that it was going to become so controversial that a French Gendarme told her, after a three-hour interrogation (and fingerprinting) that, “Life will be a lot healthier for you in France if you remove that series and never speak of those things again.”

Why? The online diary of what Laura had thought would be ordinary events became something rather more, and it was only long after the fact that we here, who witnessed the events leading up to this, realized what it must have been all about. It seems that the events in her immediate environment that Laura was recording, that led to that fateful warning which she has honored until now, may very well have been activities exposing hijinks and hanky-panky in high places. At this point, in light of recent developments, Laura is reconsidering the bizarre events chronicled in that series and thinking that perhaps it is time to restore it to public view.

As a result of the fallout from “The French Connection”, early 2004 saw a move to a bigger house in France (rented) and, in the years between then and now, a significant expansion of activities.

Laura continued to write and wrote several books including her seminal work The Secret History of the World, The Wave Series (seven books) 9/11: The Ultimate Truth (co-authored with Joe Quinn), High Strangeness and edited and wrote the preface to the work of Dr A Lobaczewski under the title, Political Ponerology.

Being in France, with a small team of researchers to help out, it seemed logical to begin the process of making Laura’s work available to a European non-English-speaking audience. With the generous help of several native speakers who had long been interested in Laura’s work, the mammoth task of translating her books, online information and newly published works into French, Spanish, German etc. began. Naturally, if these books and ongoing work were to be written, edited, formatted and sold from France, a French publishing company was required. So in 2005 the French publishing company Les Editions Pilule Rouge was created. To date several of Laura’s books and masses of online articles have been translated into French, German, Spanish and other languages.

At the same time however, there was still the English book publication and sales to be taken care of. Prior to this they had been self-published and sold online under the auspices of QFG, but with the help of a long-term reader and bookstore owner in Canada, the publishing company Red Pill Press was founded in 2005.

Signs of the Times got its own domain and, through several ‘incarnations’, eventually became the much expanded Sott.net that you see here.

A Cassiopaea forum was launched in early 2006 and today hosts thousands of members all over the world discussing a dizzying array of topics. This forum is not just a discussion forum, however, it is a social experiment following the ideas of Gurdjieff, Castaneda, the Cassiopaeans, and a strong input from modern cognitive science.

Sott.net Podcasts were begun in 2005 and were produced weekly for two years (after that less frequently).

Video production capability was added in 2009 and several video presentations (on various topics) have been released, including cooking videos, Laura’s ‘Knowledge and Being’ series (to be continued), Sott Reports and the Connecting the Dots series to name but a few.

In 2010 The Dot Connector Magazine was added to our list of projects. By now, you must realize that a whole lot of work is being done by a very small group of people and all of it is being given away for free. There is nothing in our books that is not on our websites, but we sure do appreciate it when you buy the books and magazine or make donations because it keeps us going!

Between 1999 (when the first Yahoo discussion group was created) and 2011, several other similar Yahoo groups have been created for the purpose of discussing specific topics and pursuing varied projects. For example, there is a Yahoo group called Sott Work Group used by Sott.net editors to streamline the writing, editing and collating of news articles.

Also in 2009, along with Dr. Gabriela Segura and several other career scientists in the broad field of human health, the Éiriú Eolas breathing program was created. I won’t go into the details of that here because full details of this extremely beneficial technique are available online here. Suffice to say that the program has been very well received in many countries around the world where it is being taught, including locally in France.

2009 also saw the creation in the US of (horror of horrors again) a ‘church’ called ‘The Fellowship of the Cosmic Mind – Church of Revived PaleoChristianity‘, shortened to ‘FOTCM’. Now before all the atheists and disgruntled former (and existing) Christians go rushing for the door, allow us to explain. First and foremost, founding a church in the US is not much different to founding a non-profit company – check out www.startchurch.com, for example. Rampant free-market capitalism in the US has so infected all areas of American life that ‘religion’ is today very much a commodity that can be, and is, protected by corporate laws. Technically, if you believed that, for example, Charlie Sheen was the reincarnation of Jesus and you wanted to worship him, you could, if you were so inclined, found a legitimate ‘church’ for that purpose. So establishing a church in the USA is neither particularly difficult nor unusual.

However, the reason we (‘we’ being Laura, Ark and the board of directors of FOTCM) decided to take this step was not to worship Charlie Sheen or anyone or anything else. Once upon a time, ‘religions’ were established for the purpose of formally defining a set of rational, practicable principles (free from psychological traps such as guilt, sin and eternal damnation) to which anyone who found said principles to be to their liking could adhere, in a free and open way. While no major church today comes anywhere close to such a definition, FOTCM was founded on those exact principles, and you can read all about them here. There were also secondary reasons why we took this step, pertaining to the benefits concerning rights and protections that are afforded to members of any modern-day church (particularly in the USA).

But again, we don’t want to get into the specific details here because full details about FOTCM and its reason for existing can be found at the above links.

Now, admittedly, compared to what passes for a normal life these days, all of the above probably sounds a little strange or eccentric to most people, but strange and eccentric are rather subjective words, and as Bertrand Russell said: “Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric.” There aren’t many people like Ark and Laura who sincerely devote their lives to searching out the truths in our reality and freely sharing them with everyone; they cannot be bought, and have proven again and again to be incorruptible.

So just hang on a while longer, we’ll get to the main point of all of this, but first we need to take you back in time again!

In 1999, at a point where online interest in the Cassiopaean transcripts was on the rise, a person called Vincent Bridges contacted Laura and eventually visited her in Florida in 2001. Bridges presented himself as an occult researcher and would-be ‘alchemist’ and a book publisher. He wanted to publish Laura’s works and decided to organise a conference in a retreat center in California at which, he suggested, Laura and Ark would give a talk and he would sell books. Laura and Ark initially agreed but when they were informed by many vigilant readers that Bridges was not so much an alchemist as a self-styled ‘black magician’ who was into all manner of unsavory activities, they informed him that they did not want to be associated with things that were against their principles. Mr. Bridges made his choice by writing a defamatory post about them and sending it to hundreds of people whose emails he had collected from Ark and Laura’s discussion groups. It was a blatant attempt at a hostile takeover of the Cassiopaean Experiment. The result of Laura and Ark exercising their right to non-association in this way led to a 10-year-long defamation campaign against Laura, Ark and their work by Bridges and a handful of his adepts.

The central claim made by this coterie of pathologicals was that Laura and Ark were running a ‘cult’. No evidence was ever brought forth to substantiate such a defamatory claim; instead, hundreds of web pages were dedicated to spewing bucket-loads of lies about Laura, Ark, her children, her colleagues and friends, all of which was motivated solely by Bridges’ inability to accept that Laura and Ark did not want to associate with someone of his ‘caliber’. If that sounds totally bizarre, it is, but we must accept the fact that some people are simply insane. Again, we won’t go into all of the details here because it has all been documented elsewhere.

So now we jump forward again to 2009 and a situation that has arisen concerning a member of the above-mentioned Cassiopaea forum – a French woman who had also been involved in translating Laura’s work into French as a volunteer. We’ll call her ‘Marie’. In 2009 ‘Marie’ had been in an 7-year-long relationship with a French man with whom she had two children. We’ll call him ‘Jean’. As a result of her personal suffering and doubts about her relationship, ‘Marie’ began to research studies in psychology and related fields on the internet. This eventually led to her finding the academic information that we had published on our web sites and forum on these topics.

After a period of time getting to know the other members better, ‘Marie’ broached the the issue of her personal situation on one of the above-mentioned Yahoo groups that had been started by Laura (one specifically for women and which included professionals in the fields of psychology and counseling) and, over the course of the next two years, ‘Marie’ received a lot of feedback from other members. In 2009 ‘Marie’ brought the topic up on the Cassiopaea forum where, given the sensitivity of the subject and her need for privacy, it was discussed in a members-only section (“members-only” meaning that the discussion was not viewable by any old internaut but only by those who had signed up as members of our forum). All of the feedback that ‘Marie’ received, both on the Yahoo group and the Cassiopaea forum, urged her to avoid making rash decisions and to try to do what was best for her children. For two years she was encouraged to try to work things out, to find ways to make her partner feel loved and appreciated so that the psychological abuse might be ameliorated.

Around mid-2010 however, ‘Marie’ had arrived at a point where she was sure that she wanted to end the relationship with ‘Jean’, and she stated as much on the thread on our forum and to the members of the Yahoo group, whom she had been keeping up to date on the situation. ‘Marie’ began to divulge information about her growing suspicions about ‘Jean’, specifically concerning his sexual perversions and his tendency towards anger and aggressiveness, something which, until then, she had tried to rationalise away. At her own request, she received further advice from members, some of whom naturally advised that, if she was resolved to end the relationship, she might need to consider taking precautions ahead of time in the case that her partner would not take the separation well. This advice generally came from women who had “been there, done that.” Several women in the discussion/support group recognized ‘Jean’s’ pathology and suggested that he might either become violent or extremely vindictive. ‘Marie’ did not credit any of this and followed none of the advice given to her.

Many aspects of the situation were discussed, including the possible outcome of a child custody dispute. Nevertheless, ‘Marie’ went ahead with the separation her way and, as the women on the discussion group suspected, ‘Jean’ was not exactly happy with the idea, to put it mildly. What neither she nor we expected however, was the lengths that ‘Jean’ was prepared to go to in his refusal of ‘Marie’s’ right to refuse to be in a relationship with him. It certainly had many similarities to the case where Laura and Ark did not want to be associated with Vincent Bridges. ‘Birds of a feather’ and all that.

At this point, ‘Marie’ still thought that she could manage a friendly separation. But one day, ‘Jean’, who had by this time moved to his parent’s home, paid ‘Marie’ and their children a ‘friendly’ visit. When the opportunity presented itself, ‘Jean’ copied the entire contents of ‘Marie’s’ computer hard drive. Now privy to the email discussion concerning ‘Marie’s’ relationship that had taken place on the Yahoo group, including the advice given to her by other members, ‘Jean’ decided to use this exchange to try to blackmail ‘Marie’ into reconciling with him. What probably angered him the most were the numerous clear descriptions of his character and motivations as those of a very disturbed individual and he undoubtedly felt exposed by these remarks and full of anger at the people who had made them. Perhaps he felt that if he had not been seen so accurately by a group of women who had “been there, done that”, ‘Marie’ would have continued under his abusive control and thus, he saw the women’s support group as responsible for his partner leaving him (never mind that he had twice previously threatened to leave her as a means of terrifying her and keeping control!).

So, it seems that he convinced himself that the reasons ‘Marie’ had given him as to why she wanted to separate were lies, and that the ‘real’ reason was that she had been brainwashed by … well by Laura, Ark, family, colleagues and their work of course! But this claim is clearly disingenuous since ‘Jean’ had to omit many of the email exchanges and edit them in clever ways in order to support his contention! In addition, his poor grasp of English led him to misinterpret and mistranslate a lot of the exchanges.

To supplement his paranoia and delusions, ‘Jean’ immediately began an online search for ‘evidence’ to back up his claims, and it wasn’t long before he fell into the virtual arms of the aforementioned defamer-in-chief Vincent Bridges who was, apparently, only too happy to find fresh blood for his, by then faltering, long-term campaign of slander against Laura, Ark their family, their work and their colleagues.

So suddenly, and without any reasonable evidence, ‘Jean’ began to defame us with the same old accusations that Vincent Bridges and Jay Weidner, et al., have been using for the last ten years, i.e. that we were a ‘cult’.

New age grifter and conman Vincent Bridges has waged a ten-year hate-filled defamation campaign against Laura, Ark, their work, colleagues and friends.

‘Jean’ promptly joined in with a ‘discussion’ thread (now removed) on the Godlikeproductions (GLP) web site, which was manned by Bridges and a handful (read ‘two or three’) of his minions (think Renfield in Dracula). The thread comprised an amazing (from the point of view of a clinical psychologist) 300 pages of the most ludicrous, vile and downright psychopathic utterances by this handful of nutters (one of whom apparently did nothing else all day, every day, for ten years, other than attempt to keep the defamation against Laura and Ark going on the internet) ever produced in the history of internet flame wars!

One amusing part of the situation (there weren’t many) was that ‘Jean’s’ command of English was so poor that his attempts, therefore, to join in with the ‘big boys’ (with the help of google translate) and up the ante on the defamation front on the GLP forum, which included a rather peculiar use of poetry, made him sound like a psychotic French thespian. But we were in no way taking his accusations lightly. There was still the fact that he was a French citizen and given the evidence that he was not exactly of sound mind, we were concerned about the damage that his lies and defamation could do to ‘Marie’ and her children. We were fairly confident that French law would deal with ‘Jean’s’ online defamation against Laura and Ark, their family, colleagues and their work and the good reputation that they had honestly earned in the local and national French community.

As it turned out, our fears regarding ‘Marie’ have proven to be well-founded but our expectations of the French system being more rational and able to deal with a lunatic turned out to be dead wrong. That leads back, of course, to the “French Connection” series that got all the PTB people in another ‘départment’ all hot and bothered back in 2003/2004. We wonder, of course, if there are still elements of that regime feeling angry at Laura for exposing them then? But you’ll have to wait for the restoration of the “French Connection” series to understand what is meant here and we don’t want to make this any more complicated than it already is. Suffice to say that it appears that there are quite a few people who are very unhappy with Laura, SOTT and Cassiopaea and this pathetic loser, ‘Jean’, is just their tool. Nothing else really explains the events as they have transpired over the past few months.

A forum member recently wrote:

Three [friends of mine] when told about this website and this work reacted as if they were going through an exorcism. … for a reason… Because of Laura’s work on psychopathology…

Laura responded:

It IS interesting that it is this work {on psychopathology}, above all, that brings on the attacks. If I were just channeling the space brothers and going on about doomsday NWO stuff, or alien invasions, or alien raptures, or ranting about the Jews and Zionists, I think I would be left totally alone. After all, look at the many people that do that stuff with nary a discouraging word.

But god forbid that a person should bring a spiritual approach together with a scientific method and discover what is REALLY wrong on this planet. Oh, sure, there are probably hyperdimensional manipulations going on in a big way, but nobody can prove that. I can’t prove that. So I don’t concentrate on something we can’t prove. I concentrate on the probable effects: the most definite existence in our world of pathological individuals who are the root and source of all the sufferings of humanity.

Heck, if all of our reality is just simply an evolutionary process, if the Big Bang actually happened, if we are just a by-product of mindless evolution, the psychopathology problem STILL explains everything.

No matter how you cut it, psychopaths and related psychopathologies are the bane of human existence. Who needs to worry about aliens or stuff that is “out of this world” when we have psychopaths to deal with??

I don’t even see any point in focusing on Zionism except as a construct of pathology. But then, so is Christianity and Islam and about every other religion out there. Moreover, science itself, being the producer of the technological means of destruction of our planet is also corrupted by psychopathology.

So, I have basically made it possible for everybody on the planet who has an agenda against normal humans, the Earth, the Cosmos, to hate me for exposing them.

You can bet the ranch that if anybody attacks me and defames me, they are a predator and my work, in some way, threatens their possibilities for predation; that’s the bottom line.

When ‘Jean’s’ delusional rants on the godlikeproductions forum were not producing the desired result (whatever that might have been, perhaps him watching us burn at the stake while his now-repentant partner looks up adoringly at his stoically heroic visage), he created a web site, ‘thesecrethistoryoflauraknightjadczyk.info’, which he used as a vehicle to re-disseminate the ‘cult’ accusation and the lies of Vincent Bridges. When we took legal action to have that defamatory site removed, he created another (with a Taiwanese country code domain) and reproduced thereon the entire 300-page thread (now deleted) from the GLP forum.

But the worst excesses of this clearly deviant personality were yet to be revealed.

In early May 2011, we learned that one of the attendees at a 2010 Éiriú Eolas weekend course in the North of France had recently received a call from the police in Toulouse (500 miles away from her home) telling her that they were investigating a claim that the Éiriú Eolas course she had attended was a ‘front for a cult’. They wanted to know how much she paid for the course, what it involved, what was discussed and what her impression was.

Now, none of the names of the attendees at that particular course were ever made public, and most of them paid by cheque (120 euros for the weekend) so the only way the police could have identified any of them would have been by gaining access to our bank records. Moreover, attendees had benefited from a discount if they were students at the school that hosted the course. This was the case for the student who received a call. She had paid with a cheque in her husband’s name, and the police person who called initially asked to talk to him. None of us even knew his name, so it is fairly natural to assume that the only way the police could have known his name was by accessing our bank account details, viewing the cheque, and obtaining the contact details thereon.

It was immediately obvious that, at some stage in the previous two months, ‘Jean’ had taken the step of formally denouncing us as a ‘cult’ to the French Police. While we were shocked – but not exactly surprised – that ‘Jean’ had done such a thing, we were surprised (and more than a little indignant) that the Toulouse police would accept such a serious accusation (for which ‘Jean’ could not have had any real evidence) and open a formal investigation rather than first investigating (if only in a cursory way) the truthfulness of such an accusation or indeed the sanity of the accuser.

Astonishingly, the insane claims of these perverts have apparently been accepted by local authorities in Toulouse and Montauban as worthy of wasting France’s public funds on an unjustified investigation into a pathetically insignificant matter – the rage of a guy who can’t even earn enough to provide for his children. This is what amazes us. We have gotten used to defamatory ad hominem attacks and flame wars on the internet (we don’t like it, but that’s the internet), and have always simply ignored the insanity. To have an official government body take that ridiculous and obscene nonsense seriously is simply unbelievable.

So yeah, we were more than a little disturbed as you can surely imagine, but we decided that, since we had nothing to hide, the best course of action was to confront the situation head on.

So we telephoned the Toulouse police bureau and asked if there was some form of official investigation into our activities. We were informed that a complaint against us had indeed been made and that they were duty bound to investigate it. We asked if we could come and speak with them and a meeting was arranged. We assembled all relevant information that would make it clear that this was a case of defamation, pure and simple, and on the appointed day, drove the 40 miles to the meeting with the police in Toulouse. The police captain made it clear that she only wanted to speak to one person – Juliana, one of our business managers and Éiriú Eolas instructors. So, off Juliana went carrying with her the 10Kgs (20 lbs) of documents supporting our case and proving beyond all doubt that ‘Jean’ was waging a vendetta against us based on nothing more than his personal delusions. The documents also included all our legals and financials which demonstrate conclusively that the nonsense that has been propagated about us is just that: lies and nonsense.

Juliana was questioned on every aspect of our work and organizations for four hours. During that time not one page of our documents (except for a few financial records) was even looked at by the investigating officer (a female captain in the Regional Judiciary Police Service). It was clear that this woman had been totally taken in by the lies and Juliana had the bizarre impression that she had woken up and found herself back in the Dark Ages during the Inquisition. In the end, the ‘off the record’ word from the captain was that she believed that there was nothing to the allegations against us, but that process had to be followed through by them in a formal way. But that is not how things have continued to play out.

While we understand bureaucracy and the need to follow procedures, we can’t help but think that it is a lamentable state of affairs that someone with the track record and psychological profile of ‘Jean’ can walk into a police station and, with no evidence other than his ‘word’, denounce another person or group of people as a ‘cult’ and have his defamatory claims taken seriously. (Certainly, he presented his bizarre ‘synthesis’ of our work and websites – a more paranoid and delusional document has never been seen by us – and a highly altered and edited set of emails obtained illegally from his ex-partner’s computer.) What is shocking is that the police did not make any effort to confirm that the evidence he was giving them was, in fact, evidence. Even when Juliana was present and had a complete copy, competently translated, of the email exchanges at issue, the police captain REFUSED TO LOOK AT THEM! Shades of Galileo and the telescope!

So, needless to say, Juliana needed a few days to recover from the ordeal, and we all were left to digest the situation. The really frustrating part of the whole situation was that throughout 2010, Juliana and another Éiriú Eolas instructor, Pierre, had been working hard to make the very effective EE breathing program available to our local communities in France. They had succeeded in establishing twice weekly classes in two locations which were always well attended and increasingly popular. In early 2011, realising the benefits that the EE program had in other countries for public officials (prison guards, army vets, etc.), and since the program is so effective in dealing with PTSD, Pierre and Juliana had made contact with individuals in the local National Police station and French Army barracks with a view to offering classes there for free. Hardly a cultic activity, if you ask us, unless you are a very stupid cult. What self-respecting paranoid ‘cult’ member would go to the authorities and say, “Hello, would you like to participate in our classes?!”?

Éiriú Eolas is a breathing technique that involves the stimulation of the vagus nerve. It has long been known by doctors and medical researchers that stimulation of the vagus nerve has extremely beneficial effects on overall human health, and that it is particularly effective in combating stress. Now, when you think of the most stressful jobs in our increasingly violent world, which jobs spring to mind? The police? The army? It was only natural and in keeping with our overall mission to “increase the effectiveness and impact of the results of research in the varied scientific and socio-cultural fields that are geared toward seeking solutions to the fundamental sufferings and limitations of humanity” that we would think of offering the Éiriú Eolas program to the local police and army. We had already done our ‘homework’ in this respect and had conducted extensive research into the already well-known benefits of breathing and meditation techniques being used by police and military organisations around the world. As a result, we were confident in our ability to provide the local police and military forces with the scientific details of how the Éiriú Eolas program could help them to deal most effectively with the significant levels of stress that their jobs entailed.

As it turned out, the police and army representatives were very interested and had agreed to get back to us with a suggestion of dates for the first EE class on their premises. But then suddenly, at the same time that ‘Jean’ filed his complaint in Toulouse, both the police and army cancelled. We would later be told that the police class cancellation was due to internal bureaucratic wrangling, and the army cancellation was due to the fact that other activities had been planned for the dates we had scheduled with them. But to be honest, we aren’t buying anything we are being told about any of this anymore, because we have also been told, by the local Mayor, that there have been ‘rumors’ about us. So, thanks to ‘Jean’s’ pathological inability to get over himself and accept that he is not the center of the universe, all of our work as regards EE in France may have been placed in jeopardy. But again, it’s not really ‘Jean’ at fault here: it’s the medieval mind-set of those who have made it possible for ‘Jean’ to pursue his vendetta.

What is most discouraging and disheartening about the entire situation is how gullible and ‘manipulatable’ the police and judicial system in this region seem to be. That is the chief problem here. By his own admission, ‘Jean’ has a history of violence and stalking women and sexual perversion, but none of this information was taken into consideration by the authorities who appear to have launched a reprehensible stalking campaign against Ark and Laura and their work based solely on the words of a vengeance-driven and psychologically sick man. We’ve done our own investigation into the background of ‘Jean’ and know of several instances where he was involved in incidents that required police or Gendarmerie intervention, which should have resulted in a police record, but when asked about this, the police captain referred to him as a citoyen non dangereux (‘non-dangerous citizen’).

By June this year we had had enough and were no longer willing to just sit on our hands and ‘play nice’ while ‘Jean’ continued his scurrilous hate campaign and the forces of law and order took their sweet time ‘investigating’ what is clearly an open and shut case. So, despite the fact that we had been told that we could not file a complaint against ‘Jean’ as long as WE were being investigated, we made an appointment to see the local Police Commandant to file a formal complaint against ‘Jean’, just to see how things would play out. As expected, our complaint was rejected and we were told “it’s a civil matter.”

Well, back in 2003 when Laura was first falsely accused of defamation, (“The French Connection” referred to above), she was told it was a criminal matter and that was enough for the Gendarmerie in another départment to call her in for three hours of ‘questioning’, AND take her fingerprints!

In short, we have been informed that we are unlikely to see any movement on our case against ‘Jean’ until the Toulouse police have finished wasting their resources on trying to find out if there is any truth to the spurious claims of a psychologically unstable individual.

After several more weeks of phoning and trying to find out what was going on, finally, on July 25th we received a phone call from the Toulouse Police Captain telling us that they were still looking for “infractions” (maybe they’ll dig up an old unpaid parking ticket or something) and that they may need to contact more people in September. Is it just us, or is this all starting to sound like Bush and Cheney’s duplicitous hunt for WMDs? I mean, get real! After THREE MONTHS of combing through our financial records, defaming us to anybody who has ever written us a check or to whom we may have written a check, they are “still looking for infractions”?! Since Laura also breeds and sells Shelties and Collies, maybe they should contact all the people in the dog world, too. After all, we COULD be ‘brainwashing’ our dogs!

The Captain also told us that she would finally agree to interview ‘Marie’ in September. (Keep in mind that during all this time, we have no rights to pursue ‘Jean’ for his defamation using the criminal justice system, and must rely on the less efficient civil system!) How’s that for efficiency? A veritable ‘lone nut’ makes false accusations against us to the police in March claiming that we ‘mind-programmed’ his ex-girlfriend into leaving him, and the police wait until September to ask HER anything! Instead, they kick off by apparently believing the delusional rantings of ‘Jean’, then proceed to interrogate one of our instructors and ignore the evidence we supply that ‘Jean’ is psychologically unstable. Then they spend a few more months looking for “infractions” while ‘Jean’ merrily continues his nutzoid rantings, defamation and harassment of us AND ‘Marie’. (He is regularly sending her sick, suggestive emails that are supposed to keep her in a state of terror.)

Just to give you an idea of what we are dealing with here: ‘Marie’ recently called the Police Captain in Toulouse to try and bring some sanity to the situation, but she was quickly brushed off with the excuse that the Captain was “very busy” with other investigations and “wire taps”. Are the Toulouse police ALSO listening in to our telephone conversations? If so, we hope they enjoy the details of our calls to the butcher, car workshop, the tree surgeon, the builder and the family members of those who work here. Maybe they’ll uncover some ‘thought crime’ “infractions”.

Within the last few months, ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’s’ separation proceedings, which had been ongoing since 2010, were concluded. As part of these proceedings, the court had ordered a psychological report on both ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’ and their children. The final report determined that ‘Marie’ was a very clever woman, unlikely to be manipulated, that the ‘cult’ accusation seemed absolutely unfounded, and that ‘Marie’ had worked hard/made greats efforts to free herself from his control. On the other hand, ‘Jean’ was described as having “obsessive tendencies” and was inclined to focus on false cult accusations to avoid taking responsibility for the failure of his relationship.

Now get this; this official psychological report was among the documentation that Juliana brought to the ‘interview’ with the Police Captain in Toulouse, the same documentation that the Police Captain had refused to look at in favor of trying to find out whether the ‘cult’ accusations of a man with “obsessive tendencies” (specifically related to “cult accusations”) were true or not. Excuse us if we get the impression that we have, by some magic, been transported into one of Franz Kafka’s more surreal worlds.

This is the same Captain who is happy to wait almost six months before even speaking to ‘Marie’, who has been determined to be psychologically sound and NOT easily manipulated and who, (along with us), has been accused by a man with “obsessive tendencies” (about cults), of being duped by a cult. Is that clear? Does it all make sense? Good. Now, can you explain it to us? Because we REALLY don’t get it. We REALLY can’t understand how it has come to pass that the police ‘doing their job’ involves them giving a free pass to the aggressor while interrogating the victim. Because that IS what is happening in this case. Of course, that takes us back to the idea that ‘Jean’ is just being used as a tool to break us and shut down all our activities. Paranoid? Maybe, but we keep it in our list of options.

At present we are continuing to deal with the situation in the best way we know how: by exposing the truth of the situation and continuing to network within the local and international community in an open and honest way. In that respect, there is one final piece of data that, we feel, is extremely pertinent.

When ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’ first made contact with each other (via the internet) he made a rather long and disturbing ‘confession’ to her which contained details of events in his life up until that point. While such a ‘confession’ would and should normally remain confidential, any claims by ‘Jean’ to a right to privacy in this regard have been invalidated by the fact that he has chosen to infringe not only our right to privacy and to not be defamed, but the rights of ‘Marie’ and all those that he has directly and indirectly dragged into his hubris-laden vendetta.

So in light of the gravity of ‘Jean’s’ accusations and the potential damage such lies can do to our work, we have taken the decision to present pertinent excerpts from ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’ to ‘Marie’. Please note that we do not take this step lightly and have consulted with our attorney as to the appropriateness of doing so. Rather, we feel that we have been given no choice in the matter and have been forced to take this step to defend ourselves against ‘Jean’s’ campaign of lies and defamation against us and his delusional statements to the police. Furthermore, we believe that the following details will help all parties interested in this case to better understand the type of mentality and rationale behind ‘Jean’s’ accusations, as well as the kinds of minds behind similar accusations. It will also highlight, once again, the burning question: the police in Toulouse actually take this guy seriously???

References to his adolescent years:“Then one night my body woke up, I was in a state! Probably assailed by a surge of hormones. I must have twisted and turned 300 times in bed, long, wide, across to the east, west, north, south … disorientated! I finally landed at the foot of the bed and woke up. While I was in a semi comatose state on the floor, following the noise of the fall, my mother arrived, and asked me if everything was OK. I have to say I did not know what had happened. And without explanation I went back to my bed. End of the experience.I still have that feeling of having experienced something uncontrollable and violent. Even though the nature of this event was not sexual, hairs do not start to grow and penis to stiffen just like that, out of the blue. Later, I must have tied everything together, unconsciously mixing it with the circumcision and other abuses. […]

“I got the idea to put my penis into her mouth. At 3-4 years, she really couldn’t understand my intentions. It was difficult to attain my goal without raising any concern. Was I reproducing the same behaviour that I had experienced with my brother? I can not even say I had already ejaculated once in my life or felt the need to masturbate. It’s possible that I had asked my brother to do the same to me when we were together. There was no search for pleasure. I do not think I achieved my objective with my niece.”

“After that there was a period where I went on vacation with my cousins. We used to sleep with two children in the same bed. One day my cousins went on vacation with me. Again due to lack of beds, things happened … Of which, rather, I was the instigator. We had a big bed for three, me and my two cousins. And while we were probably just talking about our penises. Of course we probably wanted to understand some things, like between boys you risk nothing and blah, blah. I offered to give them the experience of fellatio. They refused … As for me, I was quite prepared. I was good enough for them. They were just younger than me and so it was smaller in my mouth, quite unconvincing. I did my best. But at our age, this little perversion had the appearance of an orgy.”

“At school, I could not stand the custom of pinching girls’ buttocks when boys more “mature” liked to harass the girls. I, on the contrary, could only offer my kindness and be recognized for it, and of course, it never led to any thing. Then I realized girls are neither sweet nor sensitive and that they are interested in boys for other reasons, reason that deep inside me, I could not admit to myself, because they were too ugly and dark, too aggressive.

“I had gradually developed all the techniques of masturbation. It begins with rubbing oneself against the sheets, noticing that it creates sensations. Then proceed to rubbing against the mattress. With more than obstinacy I would eventually start to bleed (the sheets are rough) and, there you are, spots appear, semen mixed with blood.”

To avoid visible stains, I discovered penetration between the box spring and the mattress. Blood, semen, everything went down there, and nobody had the idea to look there. Then in the bathroom … anal penetration with the shower head. My mother had a large pen too. It was used …”

Early adulthood:

“Again due to lack of beds, children were made to sleep with adults. I’m a nice guy, perceived as responsible, etc. So I was the one made to sleep with them. And my bed was large enough. It’s about [name redacted]. So … Sometimes you have nocturnal erections. I missed the presence of someone. [name redacted] was the one there, and I wanted to hold him tight. I must have been in a half-sleep state. But apparently [me holding him] prevented him from sleeping, and he was whining. I realized that I had erections and that my hug was a little too strong. I think this happened on two nights. I think I said to my mother that I did not want my nephew to sleep with me anymore, and that she should find another arrangement, or I took it upon myself. I can’t remember…””My masturbatory techniques is still limited to the friction between the mattress and box spring. the nature of my surgery (done badly?) causing frequent bleeding. […] My sister was there for a few days at my parents’. After all, I only had known incestuous relationships, and I could not get rid of this pressure to want to make love… I mean to finally have a relationship with a girl who would allow me to penetrate her.””Whenever girls looked nicely at me or touched my hand, I would immediately become aloof, I would slip away. I struggled with myself to not let myself be reached by any of them. If the girl was pretty it was even harder to bear … I preferred the ugly ones, because at least they didn’t flutter their lashes. I could only speak with indifference. I turned off all music. I just had to ask. After all, women are like everybody else, or so they say. My sister has experience. That should suffice. I said: “I want to make love with you” – “I’d rather not” – “I’m sure it’ll make you happy” – “I have everything I need at home” – “Really?.”

“I was in an apartment in Toulouse. […] I was not looking for sex dates on sex telephone [numbers]. I just wanted to make contacts … and it seemed to be the most protective solution, anonymity! Also because of this difficulty in reaching out to others. After staying logged all days and nights (the bills were heavy) I finally got the trust of many people…”

Later adulthood:

“After experiencing some economic problems I suggested to [name redacted] and his girlfriend that we live together in an apartment, we would share the costs. I was good friends with [name redacted], almost in love with him. I loved his girlfriend a little less.[…]At one point they wanted to introduce me to a girl, a friend of [name redacted] (girlfriend of [name redacted]). This took place on New Year’s Day. The evening went beautiful… she was more like an old woman than a girl. Ugh! In return, she got into my car. I began to stroke her pussy. She couldn’t stand it, poor thing! She really was into it. And it certainly was not the discussion we had had in the evening, when I had ignored her, which had left her defenceless. Once in my room, I penetrated her and she was saying : ‘ha ha ha it’s good’ – ‘ha ha ha, it’s been so long!’ I stopped right there. Not even wanting to finish the job. But saying: “you do not realize that we have absolutely nothing in common humpf humpf!”…. She asked: “so I should go away ?” – “Well yes, I think so” [I said].”‘Jane’ loved the sun, the beach, swimming. We went to Corsica because she wanted to. One afternoon while we went to town, suddenly she quarreled with me for a stupid reason. Maybe because I had responded with some derisory reflex like “Whatever!” She lashed out at me and tore my t-shirt, saying that I lied. Such scenes had already happened, but now it was taking on dramatic proportions. It looked like she was losing it… My first reactions to this kind of delirium was to slap her, for sure. […]

It was during this time period that I started to visit whores.[…] The first one had soft skin; I had never imagined that anyone could have such soft skin with such beautiful breasts. Another gave me a blowjob in a special way, a technique using the tongue, which would be almost impossible to ask from a girl. There have been several such incidents including transvestites.”

“‘Jane’ had decided to come with me on a Saturday night to a nightclub that I was used to [going to].

The evening started at her mother’s place, she was not often there on weekends. I saw that ‘Jane’ was drinking more and more. I was worried for her, but I could not do anything about it. I thought we could love each other again. ‘Jane’ was teasing my friend a little; he was behaving stoically, acting as if he didn’t understand what was going on. We arrived at the night club located quite far from Toulouse but it went well. I think I told myself “Well, now I’ll leave ‘Jane’ alone”. I wanted her to feel how it is like to be a poor bitch in a place you do not know. […]

Suddenly, I see ‘Jane’, who comes to me, kisses me and rather than stay, goes away. I find her sitting down, lost in her thoughts. I ask her if she wants to talk to me … she says no. I tell her that I want to talk to bring her outside, thinking that fresh air would do her good.

So, I do not know why, but she does not want to say anything, I want her to speak, I want her to explain why she just kissed me … We find ourselves between some cars, she wants me to release her, I do not want to, she is struggling, I try to control myself before it degenerates. I just want her to stop moving, I want her to answer me. I dragged her to the ground; I think it will be easier this way. “Confess; confess that you’re a whore! Confess!” […]

When falling to the ground she must have hit a stone. An ambulance arrived for her, she’s was going through a hypoglycemic episode or something like that.

A few days later, still holding on like a madman, I see her again in a bus that I caught at the same time … I try to talk to her, I see that this time there are marks [on her]… she asks me to get off at the next stop.

I learned that a complaint had been filled against me about the [incident] I imagined that this time ‘Jane’s’ parents decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. Pff!, given how long it took, what they did was useless. Whatever. It was old history now and I had decided to deny it. The trial hearing necessitated my presence. I knew that if you do not bother going you are automatically judged to be guilty. It was a fine. I had to provide administrative papers, bank account information and then it was over.”

Take note of the above description of what appears to be an assault on this woman. We do not know if this is the first such event, but we know for sure that it was not the last. During the period immediately following ‘Marie’s’ decision to separate from ‘Jean’, ‘Marie’, a female friend of ‘Marie’s’, ‘Jean’ and his mother were all in ‘Jean’s’ mother’s house together. ‘Marie’ and her friend had come to pick up the children who had been visiting ‘Jean’.

Here’s the account of what happened:

“He had me more or less cornered in a room with his mother. They started to try to provoke an argument with me, to prove that I was wrong regarding the children’s education, etc. After a few back-and-forth tirades, I said I just wanted to pick up the children and go, and asked if they would please let me out of the room. His mother had her hands on my wrists, and he stood there beside her, both circling me and preventing me from reaching the door. Then I called [my friend], who was waiting in another room, telling her that they were preventing me from leaving. My friend opened the door quickly (she didn’t say anything, she didn’t have time to), and that’s when ‘Jean’ went mad and attacked her, jumping at her throat. He was obviously not pleased that I had a friend there, especially this particular friend, who can’t stand ‘Jean’ after his horrible behavior and ‘customer service’ during the time he had a shop in town. My friend went to the hospital the next morning, and the doctor reported several bruises and red marks around her neck.”

It should be noted here that the friend filed a formal complaint, and nothing was done about it!

 

Continuing with ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’:

“My work contract was extended and the low cost housing office got me a decent and inexpensive small apartment, well arranged with separate kitchen and bath (I like bath tubs). That’s where I discovered the virtues of soap in masturbation, and the effect of the corner of the sink. It is not easy to explain but it is about placing the crotch over the corner of the basin. You have to add a little soap which allows rubbing on the rim. It increases the sensations in the lower abdomen, like an anal fingering. Also I liked to install a mirror to see the whole thing. Soon, I missed being in contact with someone and I started looking where the hookers were in Angouleme. And even in other cities around. In fact the only ones found in the exterior were transvestites. When I brought one particular one in my car, we went to an isolated place, he gave me a blowjob and against all odds I asked him if now I could give him a blowjob, he agreed and I did it. In the end he told me I sucked well. I was a little proud! It was the only thing a bit extravagant that we could do in the area.”As far as women are concerned it was simple, they were putting ads in the newspaper. It’s strange to realise the state in which those ads put me … I tried to convince myself that it was not worth the trouble, after all that nothing would change … and then I had the idea that I am worthless, I am not even capable of having someone by my side, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to have sex with this prostitute. After all, it doesn’t matter with a whore, if I don’t do it right. Moreover, some of them told me “oh well, you really wanted it” But whatever, “I don’t come to see you just because I love sex”. I think I visited them all one after the other, when I knew enough about them I didn’t go back to them.One of them was particularly interesting […] She was not very young. She welcomed me and brought me to the bathroom to wash my sex, which she did with her own hands. Then she gave me a massage with her whole body by lying on me. She suggested we watch porn videos as an accompaniment. I did not want to. Then she asked for the position I wanted. I said “you on me.” And then it was too strange. she was completely dilated and lubricated and went all the way through, […] she was like a giant aquatic vacuum. I held 2 minutes … I only told her that it was good that I did not want any more. You have to pay in advance. She practiced sodomy but it was too expensive, but I regretted it a bit because, after all that, I’ve never sodomized a woman.”

“One night I had a dream, I woke up struggling, I was kicking all over the place and hit [name redacted] several times. It bothered me greatly. I was afraid that I would attack her for no reason. It was indeed a fear inside me, something that made me feel very guilty. I was afraid to be taken one more time by a violent frenzy. I dreamed that a huge snake was wrapped around me and was inexorably choking me, choking me, choking me. I struggled and it took me out of the nightmare. Immediately I woke up I was worried whether I had hurt [name redacted], I apologised as if I had hit her, and it was exactly the impression I had. Inwardly I told myself I cannot stay with her, I’m too dangerous. There will come a time when I will be able to control myself and then, anyway, what am I getting from her? She doesn’t fuck! During the night I want to take her but she turns her back on me. She sleeps. She sleeps like a 5 year old baby and she never jumps on me, not that she ever did. At one time I tried to sodomize her, but I definitely must be missing something. How do you do that anyway? “What are trying to do?” she used to say to me, half asleep. Then she would turn away and sleep. “And what about me?! But shit!” I wanted to do it! And this snake which had prevented me from breathing, what did it mean?”

I was a bit tired of all this mess including some of my borderline behaviors. Like the girl I that I followed to her place, and who begged me to stop this nonsense. Or the one who asked me one night to drive her back to her place. At one point I slipped my hand on her knee and obviously she became hostile. There was even this girl who seemed interested, while we were talking I told her that I was beating my wife and that in addition she liked it and that I was proud of it. I must have said something like that, I’m sure. A good way to say “fuck off little bimbo!” Isn’t it? I needed stability, I thought.

“Since the time I worked in this company, having the keys of the offices, I got used to masturbating in the company premises. A kind of repressed exhibitionist desire in a public place where I found myself secretly.”

“I felt bad, sexual obsessions … even stronger. Even though in a couple, I do not really tend towards excessive sexual misbehavior. Surely this split brought up those kinds of questions, destabilizing me deeply. My relationship with ‘Jane’ led me inexorably, as always, towards the slippery slope.”

“But I kept trying to get information about ‘Jane’. I would call her friends to get news indirectly. She worked in Paris, lived at her grandfather’s. So I went to this district, I had the addresses … you never know. Then I got someone to call her father to have her home address. […] She did not want to talk to me, or see me. That is clear. I must have been taken by one of my pathological state, again … I took the car and drove to her place, in fact not very far south of Paris, I considered this event as one of those coincidences that one can’t ignore. I rang. Said I wanted to see ‘Jane’. Her boyfriend went out and talked to me, so I spoke to him. I must have said a lot of incoherent stuff. I got the idea to warn him that ‘Jane’ was not someone easy to understand or to live with. That he must be wary of her or whatever …”

“One night a guy phoned from Melun (Seine-et-Marne). He claimed to be the boyfriend of ‘Jane’, his girl was hurt because of me, and he does not know what to do!”. I reassured my mother on this subject, pointing out that I was not in contact with them, I had no intention of doing so and that it would eventually subside.

“In the agency where I worked a young girl arrived. Long black hair and incredible white skin! […] I started fantasizing; I do not know … I didn’t know how to act. I tried to invite her to dinner, to the movies, but she refused. To talk about music, but she loved the Rolling Stones and REM. She was really stupid!

During one more delusional episode, I went to her home on a Sunday and waited. In the late afternoon I saw her go home in the company of another girl. I decided to ring. Nobody answered. On Monday, she reported that she had seen me, reproached me for not having warned. I pretended that I had come just for a coffee, something like that. In fact I think she was dyke.

Subsequently, I did some interim job, freelance missions, and I started to discover the Internet, it was in turmoil. Internet Explorer did not exist! Just Netscape 1 or 2 and other Web services: news forums, IRC. Withdrawal into myself was even stronger. I realized that I could only trust myself, that everything I had wanted I owed to nobody. Within months I was going to learn a new job: Web site creation. And I was determined to become well-known in this area.”

“I went to prostitutes once or twice. But what was enough, most of the time, was to roam the streets at night to see these girls or these trannies and go home without taking any. I also listened to erotic phone line or the pornographic free advertising. Sometimes I tried to call. Most of the time lines were off the hook.

For some ads, in fact, the girl sends dirty pictures of herself (you’re never sure if it’s her). I masturbated watching these pictures and after a while I threw them away. If you pay you can get more photos … During a call, I met a girl who for a modest sum offered me to go to her place. It was in the suburbs. I went … It was a house, her boyfriend was there. They were apparently unemployed, they seemed be outcasts, they listened to U2. The guy seemed lost in some smoke delirium. He went out. While we were in the room, the girl explained that her boyfriend had a problem and he could not satisfy her, they had inherited the house but they were broke. This is all. I took her twice”

“I hated weekends deeply, actually I hated everything. In Angouleme I had started doing something, which was to search for a girl’s number in the directory and then call them and insult them. Like “you want to get fucked?” “you wet bitch!” I wasn’t usually very creative.

In those days, I called at random. Later I was looking for any girl called ‘Jane’. As soon as I found a ‘Jane’, I had to call, I could not help myself. Then I insulted her as much as I could, repeatedly. Until I felt better. “You want to get fucked, huh you love it!”. […] Then began the exploration of the underbelly of the Internet .”

“Sometimes out of necessity, in order to be reassured about my manhood, I would go to Paris. In those districts, which are populated, in the nighttime hours, by ladies in negligee. This time it was in the place de l’Etoile district, where the luxury whores work. Just to have a look. I left the car, wanting to inquire more closely about the appearance and the price.

Mature women were asking for 1200 francs for one time in an apartment or in a parking lot. They put comments like ” I suck well ” or “you will get your money’s worth” Well, more than 1,000 francs was out of my reach. I said “I’ll think about it” not to offend.

In one of the main streets, a tall and remarkable young blonde is standing, she’s young enough. I ask for her price. I hear 500 Frs! I’m surprised and I say ok! Then the girl brings me in a Mercedes driven by another woman dressed for the occasion who takes a route that seems complicated to me. The events seem exaggerated compared to the usual. In these situations I’m not talkative.

Here we are, we reached the apartment. It is at the moment of paying that I understand that there is a misunderstanding … on the price to pay. 1500 frs! Now I want to leave, I say I’m surprised. I try to get out of this situation. The blonde is a kind of bimbo with breasts like melons; the old one seems to be one of those tough matrons that you never joke with… She goes to an adjacent room, apparently there are other people in the apartment and I had better find a solution quickly or things will get worse. The woman makes several threats, the bimbo claims I must deserve breasts like hers!

They realise that I have no money on me, never mind. We’ll go to the nearest cash machine to get the money. The two stay close to me, no point in trying to escape. The first ATM does not allow me to get the desired amount. Never mind there are other ATMs. There’s not much money on my account, the computer knows it and therefore it limits the withdrawal. But as so often in a short time interval, you can cheat by quickly going from one ATM to another one.

I am intimately led to another ATM, the two ladies are euphoric, I take much more money than needed. They finally got 2000 francs in no time at all. The old one tells me that I will not be disappointed and that now they will take good care of me. These two make me more afraid than they make me want to fuck them. The older one who commands the operation would scare a kid. The sexy one has an intellectual level comparable to a laundromat.

Back to the apartment, the bimbo makes a strip tease and in no time the old one equips me with a condom and starts oral sex. Finally the blonde stuck to my back does not do much. The old one, with a few comments on my virility, works greedily on my penis. I tell myself I’m going to come in her mouth as soon as possible so I can leave without asking for the rest. Curiously, for once I find that everything takes too long. Come on! Ejaculate and let’s not talk about it anymore. Fortunately everything comes to an end. They finally drive me back, without more problems I find my car. After this, I am determined not to fall again in such a trap. I’m broke. It’ll be very difficult to repair this financial blunder. I’ve the feeling I got fucked!

No longer able to pay my rent, feeling a catastrophe becomes inevitable I switch to Cathy. After considerable discussions by email, she eventually calls me. Soon after, she invited me over for my birthday. I saw her, I didn’t like her at all. But I would make an effort. Hey there! I started living at her place at the end of ’96. […] One day she proposed marriage, despite having always imagined that I didn’t want to stay with her for my whole life. I agreed, a bit because of curiosity, a lot because of weakness. […] On Sundays, she attended a cult’s sessions. I was masturbating in the garden! a little soap and water is always essential. It was not original, but it was cool!”

The above statements, together with all of the defamatory attacks that ‘Jean’ has made against us on the internet, paint a picture of a very disturbed and potentially violent individual who, being unable to accept responsibility for his part in his former partner’s decision to separate from him, chose to project the blame and vent his anger elsewhere. ‘Elsewhere’ in this case, just happened to be us.

Keep in mind that, while this was styled as a ‘confession’ by ‘Jean’, it was equally an attempt by him to ‘woo’ ‘Marie’. In this case, we have to wonder just how many other, more incriminating, details he held back in the interest of putting forward his best face.

‘Jean’s’ full ‘confession’ can be read here.

For those who find it difficult to understand how, after reading these details, any woman could have thought that hooking up with ‘Jean’ was a good idea, please read ‘Marie’s’ testimony where she explains why she ‘took the bait’.

As it stands today, we have received no assistance whatsoever in dealing with the very real crimes of ‘Jean’. Instead, we have been stonewalled at every turn, delayed, put off, lied to, and more. The worst thing about this situation is that a truly insane man is running around out there with access to two innocent children, and the French legal system has done nothing to protect them.

Share

Dangerous Liaisons: French Woman’s Abusive Ex-Partner Screams “Cult!”

Despite the fact that psychopaths devastate everyone in their path including the women and children who love them, why have clinicians not seen fit to study and write about the single most obvious source of insight into this issue: the survivors of intimate relationships with psychopaths? The study of any disease involves carefully collecting and examining its symptoms, and psychopathy is definitely a societal disease. Even our legal system gathers information about criminals by taking testimony from on-site, first hand witnesses. So again, I ask: why is there no clinical material about – much less interest in – the psychopath’s partner?

I think that one answer is: therapists don’t recognize her as a victim of psychopathy because they usually don’t recognize him as a psychopath! On the rare occasion when a psychopath’s victim is identified, she is lumped together with more typical domestic violence survivors; or labeled as codependent, a relationship/sex addict, and/or assumed to be suffering dependent personality-disorder. These inaccurate and often biased explanations of pathological love relationships have neither helped victims find specific treatment for their unique relationship dynamics and aftermath symptoms, nor have they contributed (as they could) to our knowledge of psychopathy itself. It’s a travesty within the clinical profession that the victims are not more readily identified or better understood and that this rich source of vital information has not been mined. Continue reading

Share

The Secret History of ‘Jean’

At present, we are being attacked and defamed publicly by a certain individual living in our local community. For now we’ll call him ‘Jean’. ‘Jean’s’  hate campaign against us began in November of 2010 and has been escalating since then.

‘Jean’ has made false accusations against us to the court in his child custody case, accusing Laura Knight-Jadczyk of running a ‘cult’ and exerting undue influence over his former partner (who we will call ‘Marie’), causing her to separate from him. This is completely false in every respect. The facts are that ‘Jean’, by his own admission (documented below), has a history of sexual perversion, stalking women, and violence. It is for those reasons that ‘Marie’ chose to end her relationship with him.

‘Marie’ was given emotional support and practical advice by a group of her women friends which includes Laura Knight-Jadczyk. ‘Jean’ stole the content of ‘Marie’s’ computer and read this advice she was given by her friends. ‘Jean’ then began his vicious hate campaign against Laura Knight-Jadczyk, her husband, her colleagues and friends, as a means to take revenge and also to try to coerce ‘Marie’ to reconcile with him.

The following is a ‘confession’ written by Jean to Marie in 2002, when he was approximately 35 years old and she was approximately 23. All the names of all others in this ‘confession’ have been redacted or changed.  We are making it public (with names redacted) in an effort to expose the truth about the nature of ‘Jean’s’ accusations against us.

Caveat lector: the ‘confession’ you are about to read contains several disturbing descriptions of pathological behavior. We believe it is important to read the entire document attentively, as it provides a good example of the inner landscape of the mind of a pathological individual.

To read more complete details concerning ‘Jean’s’ defamation campaign, you can visit this link.

To read ‘Marie’s’ story and all she has had to endure from  ‘Jean’, you will want to read her testimonial here.

We have translated ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’ from the original French, which can be found here. While our translation has included efforts to correct the numerous grammatical errors and incoherent style of the original text, we have in no way changed the original meaning.

Consciousness or my emotional, shitty life.

by ‘Jean’

Of course I feel guilty. That’s a given! I can not be my own lawyer. I have no doubt that what I have done all my life is rubbish. I may not be responsible for everything, but I am conscious and therefore reprehensible. It starts with the first young erotic awakening. My mother still has this silly habit of making me sleep with other children … lack of room, lack of beds, lack of what exactly?

I was in love with my cousin one night when the family was there … I had asked her to come down. I guess that with her at 15-16 years of age, she could not imagine what was happening in the mind of a boy of 9-10 years old. I wanted to kiss her. I raised my head to reach her mouth. And she just said  to me this was not possible. End of the session.

My brother, who was 11 years old, was in a boarding school during the week, left his porn comics lying around. Drawings in black and white with caricatures of anatomy. Scenes without nuances, etc.. etc.. I do not think I was pubescent at that time. One day my mother surprised me with this book that I tried to hide and she forbid me to “read” this, without further comment. These kinds of books disappeared from my environment.

My older sister… must have been running away from the house; incidents for which I knew neither the reason nor the meaning, except that it caused  huge chaos at home, my parents yelling, locking themselves up in my sister’s room with her for endless explanations. Over time a “scientific” book on the reproductive system appeared in the house, these were unofficially authorized since they were destined for my sister’s use.

Then one night my body woke up, I was in a state! Probably assailed by a surge of hormones. I must have twisted and turned 300 times in bed, long, wide, across to the east, west, north, south … disorientated! I finally landed at the foot of the bed and woke up. While I was in a semi comatose state on the floor, following the noise of the fall, my mother arrived, and asked me if everything was OK. I have to say I did not know what had happened. And without explanation I went back to my bed. End of the experience. I still have that feeling of having experienced something uncontrollable and violent. Even though the nature of this event was not sexual, hairs do not start to grow and penis to stiffen just like that, out of the blue. Later, I must have tied everything together, unconsciously mixing it with the circumcision and other abuses.

Finally my sister became pregnant; there was a wedding, the couple moved into the apartment just above the family’s one. My sister, about 17-18 years old, was younger than her husband. He was a blond guy from the public services, an Italian sounding family name. I was judged even more mature than him … We were in the 70’s – long hair and bell bottom trousers.

Obviously I was always around, the one accompanying, helping out, watching how things are done. Without rights. I was there after the birth of the baby, a little girl who was called [name redacted]. To see her eyes still blind, and her little hand grabbing my finger, and pressing her fingers perfectly glued together. I sometimes dreamed that I wanted a little sister, to take care of her, cuddle her; her name would be [redacted]. I loved my niece, to have fun with her. And sometimes my sister had been like that with me too, so it was all very natural. But sometimes there was trouble upstairs… the broom wasn’t just for gathering the dust. Blah, I was rather carefree, there were friends around my age to go play with in the neighborhood. Especially my friend [name redacted 1], before he lived in a flat above us, but he had moved not very far. He was a year younger than me, but was bigger and stronger. We spent great afternoons together with his brother. I adored them, we never had a fight, it was always harmony between us. His mother was a beautiful brunette who over time appeared to me to be more than generous and sweet but also hot … Sometimes I glanced at the conjugal bed through the door before going into the room with my buddy. We were always at his place or outside when the weather was nice, never at my place.

There were other kids to play with. Playing at ‘house’ or whatever. (Name redacted 2) and his brother who was crying all the time (their mother was a hysteric who drank all day. Once she had an epileptic fit in the stairway of the building). (Name redacted 3), the little fat kid, she had two older brothers, her father was a policeman like mine, (there was not enough room in the barracks for families, so we lived in town). Then some other friends whose names I can not remember. Time passed, looking at the adults who fought, or who would come and yell at us for this or that. The land beside the building always had tall grass that was ideal to hide in. And it was always sad when some adults decided to mow it all… But it would grow again and it was good. I was with (Name redacted 2), and I do not know how but we both fell on the ground one day… um, surely we quarreled about a stone or a piece of wood. While falling, she ended up stuck under me. There was probably only two or three years between us. I looked into her eyes, it seemed like a movie, where after a moment of floating, the guy kisses the chick. It seems to me that we were perfectly against each other and our bodies perfectly fit together. I really do not know, but in my memory of the scene I held her wrists, lost in the tall grass. She did not struggle, just looked into my eyes. She probably saw the same movies as me, so was she maybe open for a kiss? She waited for my verdict. I guess a normal boy – even at 10 years old – would have followed the script. Even risking being slapped – after all it is sometimes like that in the movies. I released her, embarrassed and distant… One could perhaps see this in French movies.

But on the other hand, so far so good, nothing really dramatic … I even experienced my first love turmoils at the time. Anecdotes may illustrate this. I did not shy away from girls, perhaps because the distinction was not clear. On the occasion of children’s games, I had found a girl to my taste. I had just started to learn to ride a bike, I was already an independent little boy. At the end of the day I proposed to take her home on our bicycles, though I did not have permission to go beyond a certain perimeter. How I respected my mother’s rules! What is sad is that some time later when I stumbled upon her in the schoolyard, she pretend not to recognize me. I thought she was really disingenuous. I started to worry about girls. I became, over time, extremely shy. On vacation when I would become friends with a girl of my age, I would end up completely blocked. I felt a pressure settling in, and feelings that I  could not express naturally. Like by kissing or other gestures. Especially under the watchful eye of adults. Watching us, they would comment on the relationship. This inevitably made me blush.

Sometimes I watched over the little ones. My sister had another child … a boy. He was named after a famous singer (my sister has always been bad at choosing names). The problem is not what went on in my mind at this moment. My niece and I are ten years apart exactly, because she is Libra like me. Which means that we were both conceived around the Christmas holidays or a little after. At what blood alcohol level, I couldn’t say exactly.

Today, she just had a baby, she’s been living for a long time with a musician/builder (ah, you see!), [name redacted] refurbished a house in the Tarn et Garonne countryside… His instrument: the bass guitar – his style: the metal genre.

Really sociable people, not like me, we talk about music without a problem. It’s been a long time since I saw them. My niece and my nephew, I’ve inspired them musically very early on (pff, my role must be minimal) when I drove them around ten years ago, 10 or more, when they had fights on the backseat. I would just turn the volume up, to the max. They grumbled because they couldn’t hear themselves talking, it was radical, it calmed down. Bah, [name redacted] would tell me later that in such cases, her parents left them, she and her sister, by the side of the road. And that later on, they had to start therapy to sort out this extreme attitude.

I got the idea to put my penis into her mouth. At 3-4 years, she really couldn’t understand my intentions. It was difficult to attain my goal without raising any concern. Was I reproducing the same behaviour that I had experienced with my brother? I can not even say I had already ejaculated once in my life or felt the need to masturbate. It’s possible that I had asked my brother to do the same to me when we were together. There was no search for pleasure. I do not think I achieved my objective with my niece … I do not remember. But my mother was probably not far away, I think she intervened, noticed something. I do not think that I knew anything more about the issue. It didn’t happen again, and it couldn’t have led to anything else anyway.

After that there was a period where I went on vacation with my cousins. We used to sleep with two children in the same bed. One day my cousins went on vacation with me. Again due to lack of beds, things happened … Of which, rather, I was the instigator. We had a big bed for three, me and my two cousins. And while we were probably just talking about our penises. Of course we probably wanted to understand some things, like between boys you risk nothing and blah, blah. I offered to give them the experience of fellatio. They refused … As for me, I was quite prepared. I was good enough for them. They were just younger than me and so it was smaller in my mouth, quite unconvincing. I did my best. But at our age, this little perversion had the appearance of an orgy.

Never after that did I ask a girl to do anything to me or give me a preference. As a child and till my teenage years, for me, a girl was all about gentleness, understanding, delicacy, sensitivity … Love was a sort of attachment through something indistinct and poetic understanding, although of course I understood that it was technically related to sex… but it was not necessary. At school, I could not stand the custom of pinching girls’ buttocks where boys more “mature” liked to harass the girls. I, on the contrary, could only offer my kindness and be recognized for it, and of course, it never led to anything. Then I realized girls are neither sweet nor sensitive and that they are interested in boys for other reasons, reason that, deep inside me, I could not admit to myself, because they were too ugly and dark, too aggressive. I slowly became more and more inhibited. Of course I can not just state that every girl is only interested in one aspect of a guy; it’s an ensemble. But I think girls conform to a certain type of demand. And all must evolve on that stale ground, somehow. Those who are less favoured by nature watch the others and their lovers. I preferred the company of insecure, ugly, inhibited kids. This is perhaps why I never could stand the people of my age, they were always more complete than I could be. One day, while in sixth grade, I was surprised in class. Because a student had brought a class photo of Primary school (4th year), and the French teacher exclaimed: “But who is this cute little boy!” And it was me! She was surprised, and so was I. I must confess that I was a pimply, anxious and expressionless pre-teen.

I do not think there are male or female characteristics, softness for girls, masculinity for guys. I also never thought that we had to just accept it. But any combination is possible.

Then my brother met his wife. Brand new barracks had been built and all the police families were housed there … I had gradually developed all the techniques of masturbation. It begins with rubbing oneself against the sheets, noticing that it creates sensations. Then proceed to rubbing against the mattress. With more than obstinacy I would eventually start to bleed (the sheets are rough) and, there you are, spots appear, semen mixed with blood. My surgery was serious, because it did not allow me to discover a painless activity in this respect. To avoid visible stains, I discovered penetration between the box spring and the mattress. Blood, semen, everything went down there. And nobody ever looked there. Then in the bathroom … anal penetration with the shower head. And then my mother had a large pen. It was used … I was very worried about my sexual orientation. My relationships with girls were non existent. I even fled from them. I do not think I was considered as someone nice, when seen from afar.

(Name redacted 4) was my brother’s wife… I got along well with her. I was 16 by then. They had just moved into a small house, Later, it would provoke a drama because they’d moved into a flat. And my brother wanted a house. Pff, his wife asked me my opinion so I said: if my brother wants a house, let him have it. Surely the worst idea I ever had. Because eventually they divorced shortly after. Bah, like always, I was always considered as more mature than my brother, calmer, more of all that BS. Wiser? What could I understand about the material interests of a couple, about their insignificance? But back to the beginning of the chronology of this incident. During one of the first family meals that we shared in their small house… Sure enough there were some dirty jokes. I was hot, I was focusing on her, I was in a state… I felt an uncontrollable and violent need to leave the room, I asked where was the toilet. For… My prolonged absence was noticed. End of the episode

I had no contact with others, it was more a question of age, only the company of younger children suited me, we would meet outside, but I stayed at home most of the time. With them, nothing dubious happened. Given my age, it would have been normal to hang around in town, in cafes, etc. … [name redacted], the cousin that I had wanted to kiss once, came to work in my town. I used to go to her place, it felt good … We would spend time talking and that’s it … Suddenly, without knowing why, my mother forbade me to go there … True, she had a reputation for being ”easy”. So what! So much protection. Is it better?

So it was boredom. I would go to the cellar to spend my time doing DIY, it was a good place to be alone. I would masturbate on a picture of Marilyn Monroe, she got me going. I was making sure that no one came. [Name redacted 3] (the little fat one) came down to fetch something in her cellar, which was just beside mine – time had passed, and she had taken on some shape.  She was not the social type, so I didn’t feel lie a special case. I tried to ask her if she wanted … to kiss me, possibly more than that. I think she went back up straight away without taking what she came for. Well, since her mother was a devout Catholic, the incident was probably reported. My situation would remain at this level for a long time.

Then I went to high school – boarding school. At least I started to be confronted daily, day and night, by my generation. I must say that there were some cases there – serious obsessive disorders. To find oneself in a professional boarding school was to meet all the slackers, the dickheads, the loose ones, the retarded, the crooks, all the teen angst of a generation x 10. That’s when I learned you had to fight … sneaky and petty fights where in order to earn a friend, you had to physically fight first, a language of street thugs, etc. But I was still basically a reserved guy, the sympathies of groups remained natural … I realized that I was not that stupid, that I finally had a pronounced enough taste for education. I was better at theory than at practice, was not naturally manual. But doing something concrete  was good for developing one’s thought capacities, understanding the meaning of things. This school you could obtain technical CAP and BEP diplomas and skills. And there weren’t many girls.

Some had girlfriends in their hometown. I saw all this in a very sardonic way. On Wednesday there were no classes, we used to go to the local supermarket, to steal chocolates, cookies … We left, our pockets filled with food, paying for a trifle at the checkout. We then went into the surrounding countryside to consume our loot.  It was a small provincial town and the female population was underrepresented. We had experienced several times group masturbations (though we didn’t mix). Some friends were however quite comfortable with girls during the weekend. We often met together. I had a motorcycle to go downtown, to Montauban. A friend named (Name redacted 5) went out with a girl [name redacted]

(Name redacted 5) was my first musical mentor – Hard rock bands, Led Zep, AC DC, Angel City, then the first punk bands, The Clash, Siouxsie and The Banshees, and the emerging new wave, Jacno, Visage. I had quite strong feelings for him. He was self assured, had strength, serenity. My mother of course did not want me to hang around with him and two or three others. I was starting to have enough of it, and to rebel. Inevitably, as I could not pick on my mother, I would fight with my father. One summer, (Name redacted 5) and his friends had the brilliant idea to go swimming in a lake (large pond). They had persuaded the sister of one of these friends to come with her girlfriends. All afternoon, it was silly games of water fights – forcing their heads under water and you had to defend yourself … The girls were targeted most of the time… Surely they were happy to comply… Probably they wanted to touch each other, without any malice, just having fun and being lively … I found it unbearable. They tried to make me participate, to no avail. In the end, when everybody decided to leave for other activities, I decided to go back  home. The next Monday at school, they all asked me why I had gone back home. I could not answer.

There was this girl (Name redacted 6). She hung around me for a while, telling me that I smelled good. (My mom used to put softener in the laundry), I thought it was a rather poor girly argument. I remained silent and stoic, which was not of great use for her… So she quickly changed her tune and lost interest in what I had to say, (nothing).

I would spend three years in this school. We went from newbies being bullied by older ones to older ones bullying the newbies. It was systematic. Halfway through the term, a new recruit in my class made his appearance – this one had just been expelled from another school. From the very beginning, I didn’t dig him. He sounded too comfortable for someone who had allegedly attempted suicide. But this seemed to impress (Name redacted 5), and they immediately became friends. I followed them, but I was jealous. He monopolized the friendship I had made with (Name redacted 5). So I became withdrawn, I tried not to let myself be taken in by my feelings. Neither of them understood the intricacies of my state, and they laughed at me sometimes. I tried to show nothing. They organized a Christmas Eve party. I had a hard time to get my parents to allow me to go… They had to drop me there and then pick me up the next day … During the party, girls had to comply to forfeits. When some asked for a kiss, I only allowed myself to ask the girl who had been chosen for me if I could kiss her naked foot. Looking back it was more a sign of submission than of manhood … Of course the guys laughed at me.

Then I turned 17. I changed school. The trip there took several hours by train. I had to leave on Sunday evenings to spend the night in trains and stations … It was really a lost place in Correze. What damn shitty country. There, I was taciturn and prostrate, in a state of advanced autism. Some students there were already “men”, i.e. the kind to take pleasure in bullying … most were more mature but still chose to hang around the strongest. It was really a horrible year. I never could find a way to defend myself without  ending up in a confrontation. There were girls in this high school but not in our class. There was a girl that everyone called “sweetie”; she looked like a princess, gentleness incarnate. I dreaded the thought of crossing her path in a hallway, though at the same time I was trying to catch her eye for when I knew she would be at this or that place, according to her schedule… when her class was right beside mine. After one class she was in the classroom next to mine. After another class I could spend an instant walking nonchalantly beside her. But I would never have opened my mouth to emit a noise that I knew would sound disgraceful to her ears. And I couldn’t take the risk of being laughed at by others… ”look at that, Jean is interested in a girl and the most beautiful one, to boot!” All I could do was observe. I perfectly remember a dull Wednesday when there were no classes. When you’re in a boarding school, you really get bored. I noticed the attitude of a guy who brought a girl into the toilets at the other end of the courtyard. The sequence of subsequent events was clear. I felt extremely distant from all of this. To what could I ascribe that type of behaviour? The charm of the boy, the looseness of the girl. Their furtive run to the isolated area looked cheerful. And of course, I certainly was not a cheerful boy. Change would be long, very long, to come.

This place was so unhealthy, and the teaching did not suit me, I had no reason to stay another year. I found another course in another school .. and closer to home in Tarbes. There, I was a “newbie”, most of the students already knew each other. But I remained sullen. From the beginning of the school year, I felt it was starting to turn bad, that they would start to bully me without me saying anything. But this time I reacted so that they would leave me alone, once and for all. I came out of my silence. Finally, those 2 years in this school would be my best memories of school, because of the friendship and the atmosphere … We spent our time playing tarot in the study room when the monitors weren’t watching, and in that way those who wanted to study could do it.

It was the new wave period… ‘Frankie Goes to Hollywood’, ‘Eurhytmics’, ‘U2’ etc.. Every 3 months, we organized parties. All my friends left the party, mountaineers, Basques and Bearnais … always sang during the meals. After, we would go to the discotheque and several times I had the opportunity to meet girls, but it didn’t go further than mouth exchanges, probably because of me. I did not really want to see what would happen in the back of a car or in daylight. However, once, a girl took my hand and when I turned around, I saw a kind of royal Beauty. I did not really understand what was going on,  but well I certainly wanted to know more. So we started to talk. At one point she told me that she had to leave, like Cinderella, in a pumpkin which was going to pick her up – her father, actually. Before heading for the exit, she French kissed me and disappeared immediately. It was very strange, and I had no hope of seeing her again. At that moment, I felt like a toad who turned into a prince, with a glass slipper in my hand and just her first name: (Name redacted 7). Sometime later I saw her. I was driving. I suddenly slammed on the brakes, my passenger and the windshield remember it… I rushed towards her, a bit like in a movie. And even before I began to talk, she kissed me intensely (I didn’t recall seeing that kind of scene in a movie). We talked briefly and exchanged addresses. Then it stopped there. I realized later (through her letters) that it had all been a trick to make her boyfriend jealous, she hoped … He probably wasn’t attentive enough to her… Still I was hooked. I tried several times to see her again, going to her high school. I must have looked very silly when she saw me. I went up to her house. Maybe she kissed me again. I can’t remember. And yes I became oppressive. My other visits were totally unsuccessful … Still, I would wait for hours. One evening after drinking too much at dinner, out of chagrin, I had the idea to throw myself into the nearest river. I was stopped.

Time was passing. I had to obtain my degree – I obtained it. Then I had to decide what I wanted to do after this technical diploma. I could easily take a work placement in a drawing office, which would seal my career and my life forever… And I thought: what kind of beautiful girl would want a second-rate man working in  drawing office, doing things he doesn’t even like? Who will want me if I don’t do for myself what I want to do.

Well, it made my target much less clear, it was more risky, but after all I had nothing to lose. Because anyway as I was at that point, I wasn’t worth much. During the summer, after she told me where she would go on vacation,  I went to the seaside … to the city where she would be … Chance, I always counted a lot on chance, I thought if that happened, that would help me. I stayed on the beach for so long that I almost got 2nd degree burns.

It is clear that even 1 or 2 years later, I was still thinking of her. And although I was at  Toulouse university, I had obtained a special authorisation to go back home… I sometimes made trips around Tarbes hoping to see her but  it never happened. It was so ridiculous. She had only kissed me. For me it was enough, coming from a girl of my age, and me not having the right age for the situation. I saw love as something so high! With the idea that one preserves oneself for the beloved. I could not accept that one could “go out” with a girl lightly, in a carefree manner, without any future. It was all too important.

My only friends after high school were my cousins and one of their friends named (Name redacted 8). I heard from him not long ago: he cut his hand while working on a machine. It was him who gave me my first music tapes from the Cure, Seventeen Seconds and Faith. But it was the great U2 era. Shit, this guy (Name redacted 8) was always in love with someone. Blah. There were certainly two sisters one summer, girls from Cabourg on vacation, two little blonde heads. The most beautiful was the youngest, I was the oldest but I got the fatter one. Well, it was only flirting and the point was only to find out who was kissing the longest time. Towards the end of the holidays she whispered that she was in love with me. So I said to myself that the most sensitive ones weren’t the ones we thought, and better to be careful with that. However I did not give any positive response to her profession [of love].

The year went by in Toulouse, where I was a student who didn’t study. I spent my days doing nothing. My big thing was to remove all the hair from my beard, the whole operation took me one day. The softness of skin after that was incredible, for a week, only a slight fuzziness persisted. Not a single rough hair. It became an obsession and brought back old memories of the time when I was 12 – 13 years old, I cut my pubic hairs with scissors. I was offered ‘The Top’ album for my birthday. The first time I listened to it, I thought the cassette was broken. It seemed distorted and too slow. And I did not know very well what I wanted to become, a Cure fan maybe … and also I shaved my temples.

Sometimes with my cousin and  (Name redacted 8), we went to village barn dances. On one of those occasions, a girl asked me outright if I wanted to date her. [name redacted] if I remember correctly. It was weird and uncomfortable at the same time. She was so excited and kept saying things like: “You’re too cute, I want to go out with you” I said no, not because she had no charm, quite the contrary. Because I thought it this approach was not romantic at all.

I quit university. The following summer my cousin  (Name redacted 9) committed suicide. The whole thing is not clear. He was found drowned in the canal du Midi with a Bible in his pocket. So after that, I didn’t have trouble finding black clothes. The memory of the room where his body lay. Of his sisters crying, especially  (Name redacted 10) who was hysterical, who wanted him to wake up because it was only a bad dream. At the church it wasn’t any deeper, the priest spoke – spoke like a priest – but also read notes that  (Name redacted 9) had left. In those writings, it was all about love, reconciliation… of her parents, who were divorced … What could I have done? Some time later while visiting my aunt with my mother. I went into  (Name redacted)’s room. There were records of Supertramp and Ricky Lee Jones. I stood there silently listening to maybe a few songs. I said to myself that if he had known Faith [the album], perhaps it would have been different. (I must have been very stupid at the time). As an aside, Cure was going to play in Montpelier, outdoor stage I think. I would have liked to go, but I gave up. It seemed uncalled for to me. Later on,  (Name redacted 9) would be among the spirits I would invoke when I needed help.

Whenever a girl stared at me with insistence I did not get the message, or I didn’t want to get it. It was often girls that I found too mature for me. While my own attempts towards younger girls found no response and ended in a vacuum. Apparently there was a gap. I went to the military service at age 21. There, I gained weight.

Ouch, here’s an episode that I am obliged to talk about, but I don’t remember very well when it happened. Perhaps it was before, or perhaps in between, or perhaps at that time… I really do not know anymore. But well, it happened. Again due to lack of beds, children were made to sleep with adults. I’m a nice guy, perceived as responsible, etc. So I was the one made to sleep with them. And my bed was large enough. It’s about [name redacted]. So … Sometimes you have nocturnal erections. I missed the presence of someone. [name redacted] was the one there, and I wanted to hold him tight. I must have been in a half-sleep state. But apparently [me holding him] prevented him from sleeping, and he was whining. I realized that I had erections and that my hug was a little too strong. I think this happened on two nights. I think I said to my mother that I did not want my nephew to sleep with me anymore, and that she should find another arrangement, or I took it upon myself. I can’t remember…

I spent my summers alone, not leaving home, having no relations outside …The only buddies that I had ever had were from school. Out of obligation. I felt no need to reach out to others but it made me suffer for sure. I fundamentally believe that it wouldn’t have brought me anything. I listened a lot to the Faith album, I spent my days lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, letting every note infiltrate me. Were it not for this music, I might have let myself go unrestrained… I do not know, but the music calmed me, numbed me  … And especially thanks to the content of the album, I felt myself, I said to myself that at least there is someone who expresses what I feel. Who describes so well, that I feel like it’s my own inner melody that I hear. At the time, Robert Smith was not popular. I knew nothing of those who had made this record and it did not matter anyway … It was something that belonged only to me and I did not wish to share it with someone else. To me it seemed to be impossible to meet someone who would love me. Having a job was a requirement in this world … Without it I didn’t exist. But the purely sexual desires were nagging me, I was still a virgin. In the end, did I want feelings or pleasure? My masturbatory techniques were still limited to the friction between the mattress and box spring. The nature of my surgery (done badly?) was causing frequent bleeding. Besides, I do not think I  personally had something to say. What made the lives of others was apparently very superficial things. In my village you could find sons of  bricklayers, agricultural workers, postmen’s daughters and whatnot. Just young people drinking in cafes and calling it their life. My sister was there for a few days at my parents’. After all I only had known incestuous relationships, and I could not get rid of this pressure to want to make love … I mean to finally have a relationship with a girl who would allow me to penetrate her.

My image of women must have been extremely limited, but mostly I think it was an extremely minimal picture of myself. Whenever girls looked nicely at me or touched my hand, I would immediately become aloof, I would slip away. I struggled with myself to not let myself be reached by any of them. If the girl was pretty it was even harder to bear … I preferred the ugly ones, because at least they didn’t flutter their lashes. I could only speak with indifference. I turned off all music. I just had to ask. After all, women are like everybody else, or so they say. My sister has experience. That should suffice. I said: “I want to make love with you” – “I’d rather not” – “I’m sure it’ll make you happy” – “I have everything I need at home” – “Really?” I returned to my room and I played Faith so that all the condensed pressure would be released. End of the episode.

I was seeking employment. My trainings were useless to me … I put ads in newspapers. I was reading them. One day a guy came up, he said he was doctor … And offered me a job at a hospital. I was ready to accept. I’ll recount the details of this story at another time. The only thing that is useful to know here is that this guy asked me to pass a “medical” examination. I accepted… The visit was immediately conducted, by himself, in my room. My parents had participated in the interview, they did not raise any objections on the spot. It turned out that it was a thorough examination. He also asked me questions about my love life. I said it was non-existent. He followed up with questions about wanting to have children. I replied that I wanted children. He concludes that I’d ”better start now”. In fact he offered me no job after that visit … It is even possible that this character never was what he said he was.

There was this girl, that I met in a night club. I had had an erection while dancing with her. I was all shaken. She was from Toulouse. We remained in friendly contact. At the time, I was bold enough to come over to a girl’s place without being specifically invited. That is inappropriate, but how do people meet then, exactly? She received me. She was a balanced person who had a job while, I was unemployed. I think she understood my intentions early, since she’s the only one before you to whom I sent flowers. Apparently she was with a guy though I never met him. We went to several concerts together, always with one of her girlfriends. We would meet occasionally. She liked The Cure – in their ”light” period. I think something might have happened between us, but she waited too long, and I spoke little. In fact I needed someone to chase me, and for this, one had to be pretty disturbed too.

I subscribed to a Cure fan club. I had several correspondents, including one I thought I was in love with. But she lived in Beauvais in the Oise department. She was the one who almost helped me set up my first discotheque, all of which we still talk about.

At this point, my main goal, above all, was to meet Cure fans. My horizon was gradually opening up. Now it was not just ”cousins who have a friend of a friend”, etc. I wanted my own friends. By placing an advertisement in a local free newspaper, I met  (Name redacted 10) the drummer and  (Name redacted 11) ”Japanese girl”; a little cutie who really looked like a Jap. Lost in her countryside. I was always at her place (my mother, again, was suspicious about it all). She was the one who once told me she wanted me to kiss her just because she missed it. I never wanted to go out with her but it’s true that sometimes I was jealous when she dated someone. We talked about Cure, Cure, Cure and she had the album ‘Pornography’, how could I forget that!

She introduced me to  (Name redacted 12) the ‘mystic’. She was a really weird girl, physically at first, too tall and awkward, always lost in a mist, like she was not there. Eyes almost completely bland, almost dead. She studied psychology and could not find a job, lived with her sister. She had frequented cults. She had the complete metaphysical tool set. Did astral themes, Hi-King, went to see psychics for any question. One weekend,  (Name redacted 10) had organised a trip to the Cathar castles, with him, me,  (Name redacted 11) and  (Name redacted 12).  (Name redacted 12) said she had been a Cathar in a previous life and had been thrown into the fire of the Inquisition.  (Name redacted 10) probably wanted me to go out with  (Name redacted 12), because we spent the night in the same hotel room …  (Name redacted 10) knew about my problem with women, he had some knowledge in graphology and interpreting signs. More psychological stuff than esoterism, without being reticent about it.  But there was nothing between  (Name redacted 12) and Jean. Do things have to happen just because they are made possible? After that, I think  (Name redacted 11) went to Japan, to meet a penfriend, the kind of guys girls fall for. I hated her for it, and when she returned,  (Name redacted 10) came with her to a party. I didn’t even say a word to her.

In the meantime,  (Name redacted 12) and I went to a Cure concert, the ‘Kiss me’ tour… She had been wanting me for a long time to make love to her – she had told me … because she was a virgin and she wanted me to be the first .. and yet I had said I could not because I did not love her, etc.. But she insisted so much that while still dressed, we hugged and I simulated the act for her. Her only comment was ”so, that’s it” I am afraid she was disappointed by the roughness of my demonstration…

Meanwhile, the Cure fan correspondent from Beauvais had found an intern job and moved to Toulouse. Her arrival had been overseen by another girl named  (Name redacted 13) who was also part of the fan club.  (Name redacted 13) was a student in psychology I think. Her boyfriend, I don’t remember what he studied.  At last, there were meetings organized by several people who were part of the fan club at the time. … I expected much from the first meeting … We had been writing so much to each other, I said so many things (it seemed). It didn’t go very well … I could not say anything, do anything … with my heavy thoughts. I just met them one afternoon. Then after that, it was ”yeah, that’s it Jean, you’re nice but now you can go home”. I still saw them several times. And sometimes I even let myself go and said what I actually thought. In fact I later learned that these 2 girls were dykes … But much water had passed under the bridge by then … and passed several times.

I would learn later about the stories about  (Name redacted 14).  (Name redacted 13) set up an appointment, making me understand that I wouldn’t need to do much for the [name redacted] to fall into my arms. But I was still thinking of  (Name redacted 14). I didn’t understand this turnaround. Too much had happened since. I couldn’t return feelings that had waited for so long, even though these feelings had been more real and more sincere … Often, if you wait too much, things start to scatter. Now she was just a ghost of the past. From the time when I was a young man full of dreams, that life would soon break. We would occasionally write each other,  and we would meet from time to time to discuss life, but in no real depth. Finally, we lost touch .

But I going outside the timeline here…

(Name redacted 13) put me in contact with  (Name redacted 15), another Cure addict. A few exchanges through the mail, a meeting alone. She was starting to study at Toulouse university, where I had found a job. We went out together quickly, she’s the one who made me lose my cherry … which upset  (Name redacted 12) very much, when I told her joyously … “How can you say that to me,” she said”. Yes indeed, once again I got it wrong.

I had bought  (Name redacted 15) a ring… I wanted to show that I was attentive… (There were some ‘the Primary’ there. But she was very upset, using a knife blade was an exercise in which she excelled. And always telling me about God the Father, God the Father! she never even knew her father. Then she spoke about me to her mother, hey, I had to hunt for a job according to her. All this made me a little tired. There was no agreement on what religion is about. I could not do anything against these destructive impulses, it was something extremely heavy, difficult for a first relationship. One day I saw her climb up the stairs in front of me … And I decided I could not stay with her. In the same week I was in her student room, the discussion again turned to religion, my view was not pleasing to her (I was very Cartesian at the time), and I wasn’t satisfied with hers, and I left.

[name redacted] had what is called a peach skin, petite blonde, etc.. with a poorly proportioned outline. I only remember having made love to her once. The first time. Something without finesse or communion. With a technique along the lines of ‘I’m on you and I crush you. Something heavy, without fusion, I must have ejaculated quickly as if I had to get rid of an illness or something by compulsion and not conviction.

Then came my Minitel period [ancestor of Internet]. I was in an apartment in Toulouse …. Nobody came to visit me. I did not know what to do and where to go … I was not looking for sex dates on sex telephone lines. I just wanted to make contacts … and it seemed to be the most protective solution,  anonymity! Also because of this difficulty in reaching out to others. After staying logged on all day and night (the bills were heavy) I finally got the trust of many people, I was a nice guy, who certainly had communication problems. Who felt alone and needed to know people. And escape his heaviness. I met gay guys, coaches, including a nice girl who found me a job even when I had money problems. Thanks to her also I discovered the Autan (trendy bar) where I could go if I wanted to meet other people who had similar musical tastes as mine … something I had a lot of difficulties in doing!

For me, going to a bar alone was something inconceivable. Being submitted to the promiscuity of people … It was horrible. I went to see where it was … Then another day, I really needed to go there, I could not stay like this at home, alone waiting for nothing to come … I was freaked … Trying to see clearly I sat in front of the bar on a bench and waited, waited for I do not know what, that I see myself as ridiculous as I am. Why go there in this place where calm, mature and pleasure-seeking people look at myself as some intruder, a stranger. Finally when I got a little quieter, knowing that despite the importance I attach to the thing … maybe nothing else would happen and it was not by staying out that something would finally happen. It turned out that the waiter was nice enough to speak to me, he saw my ‘Pornography’ badge and this made a topic for our conversation. I used to go back to this pub, and step by step I became familiar with this group and I used to meet lots of new faces. [Name redacted] a.k.a. [nickname redacted] was the first with whom I had a real discussion. It was perhaps not the best meeting but it opened the doors to others. [Name redacted and name redacted] I was witness sometimes to extremely violent scenes between them. But that’s another story.

From that time, things became extremely pleasant, I increased my circle of friends effortlessly … I just had to let it go … One evening [name redacted] put her hand on my leg, I let her do so. I did not understand the game right away. Some days later we went to watch the movie 9 1/2 weeks and then she spent the night at my house. My second time was like the first. Then another night she came straight home, with her cape and black lipstick, it was clear she would spend the night at my place. We did not really do the thing, I said something and then we stopped … We were not very communicative and we just slept. Another time [name redacted], [name redacted] and I even went to a porn theatre. She was 17 but they did not ask for identity cards at the entrance. It was just for fun, we did not stay long. Normally she would go out with [name redacted] … But hey, I can’t remember any more, they gave the impression of not being overly amorous, and [name redacted] was doing her business very discretely. Sometimes the silence was eloquent enough. My life took a lighter turn. If [name redacted] and I were walking in the street, we could very likely shout out together, “Oh, [name redacted]!” and it didn’t go any further.

Then came his birthday, I became acquainted with [name redacted] … everyone there ended up sleeping with someone. We just played a game: I kiss you, I caress you. I had really liked spending the whole evening with this sensual girl of 17 against my body. I could not have wished for anything else. I must have been 23. At daybreak, we noticed there was a spare room in the house of [name redacted]. And that we could have made love if we had seen it earlier. It was charming … There was no obligation. All this was with a lightness that I had never known before. I saw her twice after that, it was under more conventional conditions, or we just talked. She boosted my morale when I had to take the decision to leave Toulouse for another job after the [name redacted] episode.

All this is only stories of a moment, life passes and nothing changes. You find yourself alone thinking of such and such a person and you wonder … What should I do? There is nobody for me amongst the people I already know. You would like to be of interest to those who do not show you any, or can you show interest in those who would show you some in return. The idea of showing interest to those who don’t show me any, without expecting anything in return, had never occurred to me … But what if I find myself uninteresting?

One last episode before Jane …After experiencing some economic problems I suggested to [name redacted] and his girlfriend that we live together in an apartment, we would share the costs. I was good friends with [name redacted], almost in love with him. I loved his girlfriend a little less.

They were very sociable persons and I was not always light enough. I was a maniac in my own genre. We had some wonderful moments. It all happened in a good spirit. Each of us respecting the privacy of others … At one point they wanted to introduce me to a girl, one of [name redacted]’s work colleagues (girlfriend of [name redacted]). This took place on New Year’s Day. The evening went beautifully with the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude that was mine at the time. She was rather an old woman than a girl. Ugh! In return, she got into my car. I began to stroke her pussy. She couldn’t stand it, poor thing! She really was into it. And it certainly was not the discussion we had in the evening, when I had ignored her, which had left her defenceless. Once in my room, I penetrated her and she was saying : – ha ha ha it’s good – ha ha ha, it’s been so long! I stopped right there. Not even wanting to finish the job. But saying: “you do not realize that we have absolutely nothing in common humpf humpf!”…. She asked: “so I should go away ?” – “Well yes, I think so”.

Finally the community ended because of disagreement on the management of household chores, it must be said that it had rather become a pigsty! We had a discussion at the terrace of the Autan pub. I heard everything I had heard during my whole life: “That I blame others for not being attentive enough / That I am not cool / That I am not flexible / and that it’s me who has a problem and that I’d better keep more distant, etc., etc.. ” I wept bitterly, knowing that it would not change anything, I could not hide my sincere bitterness.

I found an apartment downtown; I was going to be more free, closer to the places I use to go to. I was going out a little more; I was more self-assured … There was one of [name redacted]’s girlfriends that I particularly liked. A little bit in love, very impressed .. She was a mad Gothic and I would have been too boring, I wanted love. It was useless to try to reach it … So it was better that way. I had liked spending some time with her, we had drinks we fooled around together. For the rest, it was better to let it go and then nothing was urgent anymore. I was bitten but stoic.

Jane arrived fairly quickly, I was hesitant for a while but she persisted. How could I not be touched? For our first appointment, I asked her to accompany me to do my shopping … to see if after this trivial approach, if she was still following, I would decide if I would go further. And she was. Shortly after, I saw her at the cafe terrace while I was crossing the street. She had a particular hairstyle – I admit here, I was caught. We were keeping each other company, I brought her home. This lasted several days. Then came the moment when we stopped talking and she was facing me and I was facing her, I came closer to kiss her and she kissed me too. We rolled on the bed, while hugging and enjoying the moment. Maybe I said that I did not want to give our relationship too much importance. But she had this wonderful phrase “Now you’re with me.” Initially we only met during the day, things were not settled yet, when she would come back to me she would tell me “I kissed this guy”. Later she would say: “I spent the night with this person.”

We called each other to meet. We were meeting half way at the St. Sernin Church. At first we were keeping our clothes on during our sexual interactions. She said she felt it was enough this way. But I told her, with great difficulties, that the rubbing of clothes hurt me. And that I prefer that we move to something else. Which brought us shortly after that to the episode of the pierced condom (a classic) and my first opportunity to meet with her doctor father. I also informed her of my fears, that I didn’t have a very good conception of love, I told her about my brother and other little things. Jane explained to me and showed me the sensuality, that love was beautiful, that when we loved each other we could make love a lot of the time and anywhere and other things.

Suddenly she wanted to make love in such or such a place or at a particular time, I was never very comfortable in those situations. But I followed her, I would follow anywhere! Staircase, hall, lake, shower, nature, car. Later she introduced me to new positions obviously. She was demanding, but it’s a good thing. How else could I have discovered things? I realized very quickly that my premature ejaculations didn’t match her quality expectations. I found no other way than masturbating before to avoid ejaculating too fast. Otherwise I could hardly contain myself and everything was gone in a few moments. She was upset to hear about that. But I think she knew what the trick was.

When I came to know her family, first on his father’s side, we got invited for dinner. I passed through the crucible of his criticisms. “What do you do in life?” I was unable to explain clearly. “You’ll make it, perhaps?” “Er, what exactly”, I thought. He showed me the family tree. He made me realize that I was stealing his daughter. I came out of there in bits. We stopped for a moment with [name redacted] on the steps in the street in front of her father’s place. I was feeling sort of sick. I did not understand why he had been so odious to me.

On the contrary, the first time I saw her mother, she looked very relaxed. I realized very quickly that the hypocrite was not who it seemed to be. And that maybe one of them knew her daughter better than the other. Jane’s mother, I do not know for what reasons, was trying to seduce me. By the way, Jane had told me once that she had dreamed that I had slept with her mother. She had a bad image of her mother. She had left her husband. The image of a bitch who invited men to her place for one night, etc., etc.. She told me many details of this kind.

Sometimes she had permission from her father to stay the night with me. We did not really live together. Our longest time together was this famous one-month holiday in Corsica. She was often jealous, over a look, all disputes were about this topic. Not on trivial things like washing dishes or letting milk boil over. No, rather on things like you didn’t look at me, you did not kiss me, you left me all alone. And finally I must have gotten used to her behaving this way. When we slept in the same bed we were always stuck against each other. I do not know how it got there but we never slept on our own side, well except maybe during some phases of sleep.

We were walking arm in arm, in a slightly dark street outside a crepe restaurant, suddenly a black man coming from a group we were passing, came to us and hugged us and exclaimed “personal injury claim!” This made us laugh a lot!

There’s been plenty of stories, lots of nonsensical stuff. The time when I got tired of her, I returned her knickers that I wore (crossing town in underwear is funny). When she wanted to leave me I cried the first time, I vomited the second time, the third time I did not eat for a week. But once she told me this “I know you’ll love me forever. ” There was a time with the fire fighters. One in which she reproached me for being too romantic. The time when she told me she would prefer me to be a bum. The time when I had to put her in the shower, the time when she threw pebbles against my shutters, the times I wanted to slit my wrists etc..

Me who knew nothing, I never went out with a girl on a regular basis, even if it had been a flirt, someone who you do not really feel attached to. I had to take responsibility for everything, in many fields. There came a time when we were looking for each other all the time, I could not call her directly, something like that. I was looking for her in the cafes where she was going after school; I was waiting outside her home. There must have been a sixth sense. We bumped into each other every time.

Jane loved the sun, the beach, swimming. We went to Corsica because she wanted to. In fact,  sea beds, even in clear water, make me freak out. But hey that’s no big deal. It was going pretty well. We made love every morning after breakfast. One afternoon while we went to town, suddenly she quarreled with me for a stupid reason. Like I had talked to a cashier with a smile.

Maybe because I had dismissed the issue with a derisory reflex, something like “Whatever!” She lashed out at me and tore my t-shirt, saying that I lied. It was impossible! Such scenes had already happened, but now it was taking on dramatic proportions. It looked like she was losing it… My first reaction to this kind of delirium was to slap her, for sure, and after we would fight … Someone normal would have left the girl from the beginning and would have found 10 others. But not me, I was too obsessed by the concept of “the one and only, the woman of my life.”

But I was sick of it, all was well, shit! So I left, I left her there in the middle of a square. I did not know what would happen but I really didn’t want to suffer this anymore. I took the car and went anywhere. Of course I loved her and it pissed me off to do this. But what else? We would kill each other if it continued. I stayed until dusk in the hills above Porto-Vecchio.

Then, knowing nowhere else to go I went back down to where we were staying. Jane was there. She looked no better than me. I asked her how she had got back, she hitchhiked. I wanted us too talk about what had happened. And then she threw herself on me, shouting incoherently. “I have no more Dad, I have no more Mom!”

When I write or speak about it, it still hurts, I tried to take her in my arms to calm her and say I was there and that she still had her dad and her mom. All of these things. It was really difficult to understand what was happening. She sulked from then on. At the end of the holidays her father, with his small family, came over just for a few days. Talk about making matters worse.

But things continued. I left my apartment and had to go back to my parents who live 50 km from Toulouse. We had been forced to live apart from each other. But it was not of our choosing, just an economic constraint. I had tried to rent an apartment for both of us … But I think her father was opposed to it.

We would spend the weekend in a hotel, then sometimes we could go to her mother’s place. I knew her whole family, uncles, grandparents, etc..

I knew her class mates (she was in the graphic arts). During one of those weekends at the hotel, it was in the morning, we were eating breakfast in the room. Without asking for anything more, Jane adopted a lustful attitude. I do not know what game she was playing, but I did not find her to be honest, it annoyed me. I pushed her away angrily, saying it was not worth trying venal experiments on me, that it would be better for her to be sincere and that it wasn’t what I felt and it wasn’t a game.. We both left angry. Maybe I was being psycho-rigid, resistant to change, reluctant to express a slight and unfounded emotion. Maybe she had watched one of these porn movies broadcast on Canal+ Saturday night (her mother recently got a decoder). Maybe I should have let her do it. Her attempt was obviously a failure. Form with any content, I thought.

My professional life changed. For a relatively long period I was away. During the week we didn’t see each other because I worked next to Marseille. It was maybe better this way, our relationship became calmer. I could finally breathe a little. All this would eventually get better.

But my long absence had resulted in more complications. I heard: “My period is late I may be pregnant … I went out with a guy, but just kissed” and “I prefer that we do not see each other again. ” All sorts of things more or less convoluted. Some to trigger some reaction, others because she was tired of me being away.

I really loved her, maybe I did not know how to show it. But on the other hand, I longed for more quietness, more simplicity. Why didn’t she understand that? My fault is that, facing these problems, I find myself in the heat of the emotion and often I do not find any argument to defend my point of view. Most of the time, I gave in to her demands. But soon, I was charged with emotion, I could not accept it; I could not resolve it within myself. I had to see her, talk to her, even if I were to do crazy things to reach this goal.

Then little by little our relationships instead of relaxing, faded away. We still saw each other, we were still doing things together …

One Friday night I went to her mother’s as usual. Often her mother was away during the weekend. We usually found someone to see, to invite over and spend the evening with. And now she’s telling me that I cannot stay. She had planned for a friend to come and pick her up and that I was not part of the plan. Of course I did not understand. But she explained things so well that I resigned myself. At the appointed hour I had to leave. And me and me and me … again left to drive back the 40 km. Pff, I went to the Autan bar, I drank 2, 3 beers maybe more. In fact, the amount of alcohol is inversely correlated to the amount of bitterness. Damn, how did I let her step on my toes? How can I let her abuse my kindness? In the bar I talked with a girl, she told me it’s normal, she has the right to do what she wants. What? Am I a dog! Of course, I returned. I climbed the gate, I went into the garden. The bastard that was scheduled to come over had just showed up … He just appeared between the iron bars of the fence of the house and then took off again when he saw the ruckus I was making in the garden – knocking over flower pots, trying to get on the roof. I was a dog, I crouched and I barked, I ate grass. Jane did not open, I was drunk in fact, and that was a good enough reason. I was full of hate and what can calm me down? It would be enough  to not put me in that state of hatred at all! Yes, perhaps love is not as great after all; if it has the ability to destroy everything in its path. Love an equal love without any games. Zero plus zero equals zero … It is a draw. But I’m like everyone else. And one cannot love for two in order to make it two. Otherwise who will keep all?

At one point I found some glass, I wanted to cut my throat. I was drunk so I wasn’t effective. She called her father … The ambulance arrived at the same time as him … They did a lot of things, tests, checks. I was glad someone took care of me! And happy to have made her evening a failure. And then the cops took me away and I spent the night at the police station. It was the end of it all, right?! It should have been.

After that, we still saw each other to catch up, on the terrace of a cafe. We didn’t go to parties together anymore. She went out with other guys. She told me lots of stuff. But we were just “friends “.

But I was feeling bad, I wanted to be with her. Do the same as the other couples around me. A job, a house, a dog, all that everybody wants, on the road to joy. She was not new wave or gothic, or anything like that … her artistic talent was enough for her. She created her own reasons for being. Was this some sort of vibration that I was perceiving and wanted to know more about? I felt bad, sexual obsessions … even stronger. Even though in a couple, I do not really tend towards excessive sexual misbehavior. Surely this split brought up those kinds of questions, destabilizing me deeply. My relationship with Jane led me inexorably, as always, towards the slippery slope.

It was at this time period that I started to see whores … Just maybe to tell her how much I suffered. One day she had asked: have you already gone to a whore? I answered that the day I go see one of these ladies would mean I am feeling really bad. So that was said. The first one had soft skin; I had also never imagined that anyone could have such soft skin with such beautiful breasts. Another gave me a blowjob in a special way, a technique using the tongue, it would be almost impossible to ask a girl to do it. There were several episodes, including transvestites. The first one, I did not see right away that this was a guy … He was too beautiful.

One evening over two coffees, Jane said: “I want to make love with you” … I decided to spend the night at the hotel. I refused and yet I wanted so much to say yes. Continuing to meet as friends, as she wished. She was telling me her stories, guys with whom she slept, things about a one night stand, at the most. If I knew the guy, she would say “oh but he’s a jerk!” One day she even told me that she and another girl slept with a guy, who worked as a nurse, while she was doing a summer job in a psychiatric hospital … Autistic people have love stories too, did you know that? I eventually found a small room for rent in the suburbs …  finances were so tight so it was either a flat or a car … and my parents had made me buy this car that had kept me at their place for almost a year. For some time I had been friends with a co-worker and we were going out to some other places. Jane had decided to come with me on a Saturday night to a nightclub that I frequented.

The evening started at her mother’s place, she was not often there on weekends. I saw that Jane was drinking more and more. I was worried for her, but I could not change it. I thought we could love each other again. Jane was teasing my friend a little bit; he was behaving stoically, acting as if he didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t Jane feel like being the center of attention! We arrived at the night club located quite far from Toulouse but it went well. I think I told myself “Well, now I’ll leave Jane alone”. I wanted her to feel what it is like to be a poor bitch in a place you do not know. I left, I wanted to have fun as she had always done without bothering about me. It was a bulls eye. I fidgeted on the dance floor (which I never do) I approached one girl or another (which I do even less) Smiling, happy, light. We had been there for a while, she had already done her tour of the place … and was feeling uncomfortable.

Suddenly, I see Jane coming towards me, she kisses me and rather than stay, goes away. I find her sitting down, lost in her thoughts. I ask her if she wants to talk to me … she says no. I tell her that I want to talk. I bring her outside, thinking that fresh air would do her good.

So, I do not know why, but she does not want to say anything, I want her to speak, I want her to explain why she just kissed me … We find ourselves between two cars, she wants me to release her, I do not want to, she is struggling, I try to control myself before it degenerates. I just want her to stop moving, I want her to answer me. I dragged us both to the ground; I think it will be easier this way. “Confess; confess that you’re a whore! Confess!” Yes, I am a bitch but I love you.

When she fell to the ground she must have hit a stone. An ambulance comes for her, she goes through a hypoglycemic episode or something like that. Surely a confession obtained under torture and alcohol, is not very reliable. We were in December, in a kind of fog, I worry about her in the ambulance. A few days later, I, still holding on like a madman, see her again in a bus that I caught at the same time … I try to talk to her, I see that this time there are marks on her … she asks me to get off at the next stop.

Normally I will never see her again. You think that the story ends here. Well, no, and that is what is so weird.

I finally left the area, I had been dismissed in early December and the only job I found six months later was in the Charentes department. It had to mean that this was for the best, and besides, it was so much better this way. This new job would allow me to progress professionally which could not be a bad thing since I ignored that so much in the past. And above all it would help me not to be tempted to see Jane.

So here I am in Angouleme, I start with six-month trial and a crappy little studio. My colleagues are young but most of them are locals and congenital idiots. There, no more Gothic night clubs, no more extravagant parties. Few people stand out but it is with them that I would be more ready to sympathize. In the beginning I went every weekend to my parents place. But at least I changed my mindset and forgot past annoyances … and if I went to Toulouse it was just to find prostitutes.

Shortly after joining this company, the receptionist invited me to her home, married with two kids, a cute little blonde woman-child, I was new to the region, and her attitude was pleasant. Well, at one point I asked myself what I was doing at her place, if there was not something fishy. I told her that I was embarrassed to be there … she said there was no problem … I still feel that it was awkward. The experience was not repeated.

One day I saw a beautiful girl, oh she looked like you! but hey, I saw her when she rang a door next to my apartment. I decided to make friends with the tenant woman living next door hoping eventually to meet her friend [name redacted]. It was not a success, I was invited to join a meal at a restaurant with a small committee of people who knew each other professionally, and people who are new in town get some sympathy. Musically the conversation was not interesting, in any case, all these are rednecks who live in the countryside! It happened that later that, even though I tried to seduce Josephine, who didn’t give a shit, I spoke with my neighbor. I was telling her that I had experienced bad things in Toulouse and that I wanted to finally find a bit of innocence in my life, simpler and truer things. She said it was possible. Once when I proposed to help carry her grocery bags, like a nice neighbor. At her place, when she got close to me, I saw my chance to enter her personal space. Uh-oh, I saw it coming, I took a step back. Things were said, I just left. It was not worth pushing it.

I learned that a complaint had been filled against me about the fight in December. I imagined that this time Jane’s parents wanted to be better safe than sorry. Pff, given how long it took, what they did was useless. Whatever. It was ancient history now that I had decided to deny. The trial hearing required my presence. I knew that if I didn’t show up I would automatically be judged guilty. It was a fine. I had to provide administrative papers, bank account information and then it was over.

My work contract is extended and the low costing housing office got me a decent and inexpensive small apartment, well arranged with separate kitchen and bath (I like bath tubs). That’s where I discovered the virtues of soap in masturbation, and the effect of the corner of the sink. It is not easy to explain but it involves placing the crotch over the corner of the basin. You have to add a little soap which allows you to rub on the rim. It increases the sensations in the lower abdomen, like an anal fingering. Also I liked to install a mirror to see the whole thing. Soon, I missed being in contact with someone and I started to look for places where I could find hookers in Angouleme. And even in other cities close by. In fact the only ones I found in the outskirts were transvestites. When I invited one into my car we went to an isolated place, he gave me a blowjob and contrary to what would be expected, I asked him if I could give him a blowjob, he agreed and I went at it with gusto. In the end he told me I sucked well. I was rather proud! It was the only slightly extravagant thing that one could do in the area.

As far as women are concerned it was simple, they were putting ads in the newspaper. It’s strange to realise the state in which those ads put me … I tried to convince myself that it was not worth the trouble, after all that nothing would change … and then I had the idea that I am worthless, I am not even capable of having someone by my side, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to have sex with this prostitute. After all, it doesn’t matter with a whore, if I don’t do it right. Moreover, some of them told me “oh well, you really wanted it” But whatever, “I don’t come to see you just because I love sex”. I think I visited them all one after the other, when I knew enough about them I didn’t go back to them. One of them was particularly interesting; well I did not understand everything.

She was not very young. She welcomed me and brought me to the bathroom to wash my sex, which she did with her own hands. Then she gave me a massage with her whole body by lying on me. She offered to watch porn videos as an accompaniment. I did not want to. Then she asked me what position I wanted. I said “you on me.” And then it was really strange. She was completely dilated and lubricated and dripped all over my sex to the extent that I had the feeling that it was a giant aquatic vacuum. I lasted 2 minutes … I only told her that it was good, that I did not want any more. You have to pay in advance. She practiced sodomy but it was too expensive, but I regret it a bit because finally after all that I’ve never sodomized a woman. On weekends I used to making pastries, do a thorough house clean, my salary increased regularly, I used to buy furniture. Angouleme is very bourgeois, but also very small; there was a beautiful girl I sometimes saw in the street. I would have liked to be able to talk to her to say something nice …  just: “I saw you, do you see me?” but I knew I was not able and so on … She was certainly one more bourgeoise who would buy her books in France-Loisirs. I’m of no interest to her. Then I start to call erotic lines. It’s scary to hear those weirdos leaving messages. There was this female voice, I called, and she actually lived next door. I went to see her. She just wanted to be held in my arms, I got nothing more, and in addition, she was ugly like a toad. Anyway, there was a waitress in a nightclub, I tried to attract her attention, but she was with the boss of this club who constantly shouted at her, which annoyed me greatly. But we sympathized just as regular customers do. Bah, once she gave me a kiss just when I decided to leave Angouleme.

My classmates were these simple people who go to prefabricated slaughterhouse/barn-like discos. Always the same, a blond girl wants you to take her home. Just for a quick shag in the parking lot of the church (true) because you said something a bit original over two drinks. Ah the countryside! How old was she? 17 or 18. Long curly hair, an imperfect face without being ugly. I proposed her to go on the back seats. I did not want her. Soon I was obliged to take her without any condom, which was madness in itself. I had not enough erection …She on the other hand was determined. I was not convinced. That was annoying … I did not want to send her away. Then I began to perform cunnilingus on her … This would allow me to activate my basic instincts. To get progressively excited. Thus, psychologically ready, I could penetrate her. She told me she thought I was “special”.

There’s been another girl like that, it was a little trickier. This time she came to my place after leaving a pub and there I was holding her hands and doing a lot of romantic stuff with her. Without any words; but I did not find her very attractive and also she was a little weird. I heard she had been in a psychiatric hospital. I think I had enough experience of this type of woman with Jane, who was working as a guard in an autism clinic.

There was a neighbor who was charming, the same style as [name redacted] but more woman-child like. She used to park her car in the parking lot and I had once left a note on the door of her car inviting her to a birthday party. I got no response. But luckily she was hired by the company where I worked and she liked me. I had offered her a tape with songs of The Cure, I had made this compilation myself (with love)… she told me she loved this band (how did I guess?) She had a boyfriend (a musician) … One day towards the end we had lunch together.

I met [name redacted] in a pub I used to frequent, I was with a guy who was a little stupid…Once I had thrown him out of my place because he said that the musicians I listened to were all junkies. I asked him to go away before I got angry, stupid asshole! In short, this guy pointed out a girl at a table and asked me if I knew how to approach a girl like this one… Pff, I do not know, I think I found his question really dumb. And I said, well, you’ll see and I went to see the girl and we got on well. Nothing else happened. Actually yes this is all a matter of lightness. To please a girl, who cares about sincerity? The girls do not understand this. You’re light, you win. You’re heavy, then even the tide wouldn’t take you out. It’s a bit cartoonish. But nobody cares, so let’s move on.

A few days later, I managed to find her … kind of “oh well I was just passing by”, and then that nonsense about “there’s no coincidences”, and blah and blah and blah, sure there’s no coincidences, I was there because I went there on purpose. In fact the chick was from Poitiers and was doing an internship in the travel agency next door. I offered for her to come with us the following Saturday, we’d go to a nightclub, etc., anyway, the usual crap. She agreed.

The evening arrived, tata tata tata! … At the end of the night I suggested that everybody come to my place. To eat pasta, pasta after a good night is ideal, it pumps you like crazy, like your stomach feels better and you get a great night’s sleep. Finally [name redacted] stayed with me, the others left. A girl named Sandy pointed out to me that I had gotten what I wanted from [name redacted]. I said yes. I’m sure she was jealous. Even though she was a beautiful blonde, nice shape, not totally stupid, she was a girl in need of a father  and who would run after anything that moved. One more potential Jane. And even if her superiority complex of being a sexy blonde was affected, I didn’t give a shit about her. She was the daughter of a boss in the company where I worked and the rumor was that she had dated all the members of the team. At a time, there was also a Spanish intern at the company, here name was [name redacted]. Pronounced: [Spanish pronunciation]. In Spain everything is more complicated; she was a prude, not without charm, but well-behaved. The German intern seemed hotter to me but much less interesting. And I do not even remember her name, let’s say her name was Hildegarde. Well I was just trying to get interested in girls, for the one time that I felt like it in my life! For once I was not expecting them to be suddenly interested in me. Well, it is clear that doing nothing is not what makes things happen.

Let’s go back to [name redacted]. She was a tall girl studying tourism. She had a narrow waist, large breasts, soft skin and a little problem with shagging. Also she squinted. I introduced her to the music I listened to, we had fun with the synthesizer. Once she did not want to fuck, while I was grumbling she said: “wait, I’ll do something for you.” She gave me a blowjob! Without much expertise but the heart was there. Having seen it up close, she declared that I had a nice dick. (I wasn’t expecting that much!) She was not unpleasant, but she wasn’t very invested in our relationship, she used to talk to me about her ex. boyfriend, she seemed very hesitant. It was shallow. Some weeks she was not there, taking classes in a boarding house far away. But it was not the kind of girl that you’d be worried about cheating on you. Too prudish, too transparent. And on the other side I never knew a girl who was this wet when being touched!

One night I had a dream, I woke u[ struggling, I was kicking all over the place and hit [name redacted] several times. It bothered me greatly. I was afraid that I would attack her for no reason. It was indeed a fear inside me, something that made me feel very guilty. I was afraid to be taken one more time by a violent frenzy. I dreamed that a huge snake was wrapped around me and was inexorably choking me, choking me, choking me. I struggled and it took me out of the nightmare. Immediately I woke up I was worried whether I had hurt [name redacted], I apologised as if I had hit her, and it was exactly the impression I had. Inwardly I told myself I cannot stay with her, I’m too dangerous. There will come a time when I will be able to control myself and then, anyway, what am I getting from her? She doesn’t fuck! During the night I want to take her but she turns her back on me. She sleeps. She sleeps like a 5 year old baby and she never jumps on me, not that she ever did. At one time I tried to sodomize her, but I definitely must be missing something. How do you do that anyway? “What are trying to do?” she used to say to me, half asleep. Then she would turn away and sleep. “And what about me?! But shit!” I wanted to do it! And this snake which had prevented me from breathing, what did it mean?

Then Jane called! [name redacted] had not been around for a week. Jane started the conversation with a phrase like “guess who it is!” She apologized for having the insolence to call, she had found my phone number and could not resist. We chatted a bit. It was at this time that she told me she wanted me to come over right away. I refused, arguing that I would not do it. That this was out of question! She called several times in these situations, at five o’clock in the morning. She left messages on the answering machine. I used to call her back. We had to establish a code: like “you let it ring 3 times” to avoid her mother. Jane was not romantic, not at all, she was Romanesque! From this moment, my story with [name redacted] was put aside; I explained to her that I preferred that we stop seeing each other. Blah blah blah, actually  Jane was around more and more, and I could not have two irons in the fire.

One morning, Jane took the train and visited me. She told me more details about her adventures; she was actually becoming a ‘dike’. She kissed girlfriends, and even another older girl who was allegedly raped when she was young and became a dyke. I pointed out that I wished to live nearer to her and be affectionate. She declined my initiative and that was it between us. At the end of the weekend I drove her back to Toulouse, she seemed happy to have talked. She seemed worried about these relationships and quite disturbed.

Jane called me one morning; she wanted me to come urgently. It seems to me she told me she had brought a guy home and that she had finally kicked him out. Suddenly, I had to come because … Because it was with me that she wanted to make love… So I drove the 300 km from Angouleme to Toulouse and at dawn, I joined Jane. She had left her mother’s house open. Her mother was not there of course, she had left for the weekend…. I went upstairs, I found her in her room. I approached her … she was like in a half coma, it was sunrise. She didn’t greet me but she knew I was there. She was curled and seemed rather disposed to sleep. However, she was exposing her ass. And it was me, fully awake, who did the rest.

Subsequently Jane introduced me to all her new friends. I knew the most prominent ones, but attitudes appeared to have changed much. Afternoons and evenings, gay bars and kissing sessions in apartments. All that remained superficial. Most of the time around 3 am, I was telling Jane that I was tired and I was going home … once she said that I could have gone out with [name redacted], one of her girlfriends. She was certainly interested … I told her that it was useless. I had known [name redacted] some years ago before I left Toulouse. I thought that, like Jane, she had become seriously uglier, as a result of some unknown illness. [Name redacted] previously had beautiful curly hair that she had replaced with a filthy discolored matt. While Jane had short and greasy hair. During one of those evenings, she took me to spend the night in the apartment of one of her friends who had left the keys … The place was nice, we slept … She kept talking to me about the movie “Basic Instinct,” I hadn’t watched it but she had told me about some scenes. In the morning when her energy was back she took advantage of my semi-consciousness to take my wrists and lock them, arms crossed. And jump on me like every other time she had done this. She quickly got tired or satiated, I do not know. Having not reached orgasm yet, while she lay on her stomach, I stood up behind her and took her doggie style while her vulva was still hot. She never allowed me to kiss her, even when we were about to leave. There was no question of any affection. She remained silent most of the time. I tried to respect this state.

In the company where I worked, there was a girl called [name redacted]. A nice dark haired woman, always friendly and pleasant, she was not a beauty, just an ordinary woman but endearing. She told me she wanted to make love with me, even just once, come on!  one would think that the girls outside Paris are bored to death! She was married and had two kids. She came to my place to have a coffee as people do once in a while. I felt she was tortured by her desire. I explained that I preferred not to do it … I was not in love with her and that based on that it was pointless. She accepted. I think I did well because that night I saw her husband wandering in my street. And I told myself “hey it looks like this one is looking for his wife, but she is not here, phew!

I was a bit tired of all this mess including some of my borderline behaviors. Like the girl I that I followed to her place, and who begged me to stop this nonsense. Or the one who asked me one night to drive her back to her place. At one point I slipped my hand on her knee and obviously she became hostile. There was even this girl who seemed interested, while we were talking I told her that I was beating my wife and that in addition she liked it and that I was proud of it. I must have said something like that, I’m sure. A good way to say “fuck off little bimbo!” Isn’t it? I needed stability, I thought. I had a job, maybe I was to build a life there. After all, it was enough to lie to someone, otherwise nothing would happen anyway. Hence the idea of dating agencies. It lasted a long time. After two or three dates, I changed my mind and decided to leave this town. To go to Paris, where there would surely be other people and not those bourgeoisie girls who think they are the center of the world (I am stupid sometimes). I arrived in Bagneux in February ’94, my first place was a 20 m2 apartment at 2,000 francs a month. I was forced to stack all my furniture due to lack of space. There remained a small pathway; I could not open the sofa-bed, impossible to invite people! My living space was therefore limited to the couch!

Since the time I worked in this company, having the keys of the offices, I got used to masturbate in the company premises. A kind of repressed exhibitionist desire in a public place where I found myself secretly. Or reminiscences of Jane who liked this type of behavior. I sometimes imagined making love in such circumstances to a fantasized person. The problem with prostitutes is perhaps more deeply connected to this fantasy in the sense that these places are not known in advance. Is the unknown sexual? I think so.

But I kept getting information about Jane. I would call her friends to get news indirectly. She worked in Paris, lived at her grandfather’s. So I went to this district, I had the addresses  … just in case. Then I got someone to call his father with a pretext to get her home address. She was with a guy and just had a daughter. One evening I called the number I had been given, I just said, ” personal injury claim!” And she hung up. I probably called again, I do not know, I drank a bottle of champagne before … anyway I called again. I asked her if she was happy? She said “ yes”, a yes to get rid of me maybe. She did not want to talk to me, or see me. That is clear. I must have been taken by one of my pathological states, again … I took the car and drove to her place, in fact not very far south of Paris, I considered this event as one of those coincidences that one can discount. I rang the bell. Said I wanted to see Jane. Her boyfriend went out and talked to me, so I spoke to him. I must have said a lot of incoherent stuff. I got the idea to warn him that Jane was not someone easy to understand or to live with. That he must be wary of her or whatever … I finally left. From that day, I could detach myself from this story completely. This does not mean that I didn’t get news about Jane.

I went to parties in Paris once or twice. I think that the first time I got drunk I thought I saw Jane sitting on a chair, I kicked the chair, and there was nobody on it. I got kicked out of the place from the place, someone punched me, the mark was there for a while. I decided not to drink as much.

I could have gone out with a girl I met at the Gibus. I felt the desire to talk, why to this one rather than another one? I do not know how, but I realised she was in my arms. Something which I accepted more out of kindness than desire. Then she called me offering to meet again, evasively I made her understand that I was not interested. I decided not to go out any more.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been receiving weird calls. Often “she” had made other people call, dumb or anonymous. I do not think there have ever been insults, just incoherent speech. The last time my mother mentioned this type of call, I had already moved to Montrouge to a place a little more decent than the previous one and she told me the following: ” One night a guy phoned from Melun (Seine-et-Marne). He claimed to be the boyfriend of Jane, his girl was hurt because of me, and he does not know what to do!”. I reassured my mother on this subject, pointing out that I was not in contact with them, I had no intention of doing so and that it would eventually subside. End of those episodes.

Among my work colleagues, there was the receptionist, in her forties. She had helped me to get settled in my new place. A little later I moved into her previous lodgings because she has found something better. One evening I got invited to eat at a pizza restaurant with her daughter and her son-in-law. She drove me to the office where I wanted to pick something up. In the car, before I left her, she had a strange look, a tendentious look, so what did she want? This signal seemed insignificant and I paid no attention. The following Monday, she said to someone in the office, “oh, but there’s no more men!”. Indeed, one can see it like that.

I just wanted to have friends, something without strings attached. Yet, if it happened, I wasn’t interested anymore. I would rather stay home, alone, masturbating in front of the TV. I felt like I was entering a long phase of decline. I kept reviewing my life. A young girl joined the agency where I worked. Long black hair and an incredible white skin! I tried to give her attention, to find some common ground. She was from the South-West like me. Sometimes I wanted to give her kisses, when I succeeded, she would give me a look of disapproval. I felt unlucky! One evening when we had stayed a little late to finish a job, she asked me for a ride home because there were no more buses. We discussed this and that and work, and then we arrived in front of her house. To thank me she gave me two really endearing kisses. I must have started fantasizing; I don’t know … She was a somewhat harsh person who does not let herself fall easily into sentimentality. I didn’t know how to act. I tried to invite her to dinner, to the movies, but she refused. To talk about music, but she loved the Rolling Stones and REM. She was really stupid! During one more delusional episode, I went outside her home on a Sunday and waited. In the late afternoon I saw her go home in the company of another girl. I decided to call. Nobody answered. The following Monday, she told me that she had seen me, and reproached me for not having warned her. I pretended that I had just gone there for a coffee or something like that. blah blah blah. In fact I think she was a dyke … When I resigned from that company, she accepted my invitation to a restaurant. It was then I realize that she had absolutely no emotion, no sentiment, that she was not very friendly.

Subsequently, I did some interim job, freelance missions, and I started to discover the Internet, it was in full flight. Internet Explorer did not exist! Just Netscape 1 or 2 and other Web services: news forums, IRC. Withdrawal into myself was even stronger. I realized that I could only trust myself, that everything I had wanted I owed to nobody. Within months I was supposed to learn a new job: Web site creation. And I was determined to become well-known in this area.

I went to prostitutes once or twice. But what was enough most of the time was to roam the streets at night to see these girls or these trannies and go home without taking any. I also listened to erotic phone line or the pornographic free advertising. Sometimes I tried to call [these numbers]. Most of the time lines were off the hook. For some ads, in fact, the girl sends dirty pictures of herself (you’re never sure if it’s her). I masturbated watching these pictures and after a while I threw them away. If you pay you can get more photos … During a call, I met a girl who for a modest sum offered me to go to her place. It was in the suburbs. I went … It was a house, her boyfriend was there. They were apparently unemployed, they seemed be outcasts, they listened to U2. The guy seemed lost in some smoke delirium. He went out. While we were in the room, the girl explained that her boyfriend had a problem and he could not satisfy her, they had inherited the house but they were broke. This is all. I took her twice. She had a strangely affectionate attitude. She told me that she had lost custody of her kid and that her ex was called [name redacted]. I wanted to see her again, I called her. She agreed. Finally I did not go.

I hated weekends deeply, actually I hated everything. In Angouleme I had started doing something, which was to search for names of girls in the directory and then call them and insult them.  Like “you want to get fucked?” “you wet bitch!” I wasn’t often very original.  In those days, I called at random. Later I was particularly looking for girls called Jane.  As soon as I found a Jane, I had to call, I could not help myself. Then I insulted her as much as I could, repeatedly. Until I felt better.  “You want to get fucked, huh you love it!”.  So much hate in me, despair, misery.  Then began the exploration of the underbelly of the Internet … Well, it was not so bad,  after all, there was some communication in my life, if not communion.  This could be something like discussing on IRC with a girl that would eventually call me. I must have said I was a CEO and she was looking for a job … I can imagine what she would have been willing to do if I had suggested something to her.  From the beginning I had been in contact with [Cathy] … She has helped me configure my computer so I could develop my skills on the Web. It did not exceed 2-3 emails with a purely technical content.  Meanwhile I was doing some freelance work. And I was very busy trying to earn a little money.  Overall I spent more than I earned. But I was not too worried.  I had an  ongoing relationship with a girl from Quebec, who I met on IRC, we met there on a regular basis. Step by step we became impassioned for each other. I spent whole nights there chatting. We were writing to each other: I sent her audio tapes, she sent me chocolates and local cigarettes. I thought only of her. Sometimes we were making erotic scenarios, we imagined we were making love and we described the scenes. It was hot and it lasted for hours! We spoke on the phone, once or twice; it was especially me who was calling.  One day, I noticed on her Web page that Cathy had found a job, in [town redacted], I decided to contact her again.

Sometimes out of necessity, in order to be reassured about my manhood, I was going to Paris. In those districts, which are populated in the night time hours, by ladies in negligee. This time it was around the place de l’Etoile district, where the luxury whores work. Just to have a look. I left the car, wanting to inquire more closely about the appearance and the price. Mature women were asking for 1200 francs for one time in an apartment or in a parking lot. They put comments like ” I suck well ” or “you will get your money’s worth” Well, more than 1,000 francs was out of my reach. I said “I’ll think about it”  not to offend. In one of the main streets, a tall and remarkable young blonde is standing, she’s young enough. I ask for her price. I hear 500 Frs! I’m surprised and I say ok! Then the girl brings me in a Mercedes driven by another woman dressed for the occasion who takes a route that seems complicated to me. The events seem exaggerated compared to the usual. In these situations I’m not talkative. Here we are, we reached the apartment. It is at the moment of paying that I understand that there is a misunderstanding … on the price to pay. 1500 frs! Now I want to leave, I say I’m surprised. I try to get out of this situation. The blonde is a kind of bimbo with breasts like melons; the old one seems to be one of those tough matrons that you never joke with…  She goes to an adjacent room, apparently there are other people in the apartment and I had better find a solution quickly or things will get worse. The woman makes several threats, the bimbo claims I must deserve breasts like hers!

They realise that I have no money on me, never mind. We’ll go to the nearest cash machine to get the money. The two stay close to me, no point in trying to escape. The first ATM does not allow me to get the desired amount. Never mind there are other ATMs. There’s not much money on my account, the computer knows it and therefore it limits the withdrawal. But as so often in a short time interval, you can cheat by quickly going from one ATM to another one. I am intimately led to another ATM, the two ladies are euphoric, I take much more money than needed. They finally got 2000 francs in no time at all. The old one tells me that I will not be disappointed and that now they will take good care of me. These two make me more afraid than they make me want to fuck them. The older one who commands the operation would scare a kid. The sexy one has an intellectual level comparable to a laundromat. Back to the apartment, the bimbo makes a strip tease and in no time the old one equips me with a condom and starts oral sex. Finally the blonde stuck to my back does not do much. The old one, with a few comments on my virility, works greedily on my penis. I tell myself I’m going to come in her mouth as soon as possible so I can leave without asking for the rest. Curiously, for once I find that everything takes too long. Come on! Ejaculate and let’s not talk about it anymore. Fortunately everything comes to an end. They finally drive me back, without more problems I find my car. After this, I am determined not to fall again in such a trap. I‘m broke. It’ll be very difficult to repair this financial blunder. I’ve the feeling I got fucked!

No longer able to pay my rent, feeling a catastrophe is inevitable, I switch to Cathy, after considerable discussions by email, she eventually calls me. Soon after, she invited me over for my birthday. I saw her, I didn’t like her at all. But I would make an effort. Hey presto! I started living at her place at the end of 96. I was continuing my freelance business, but soon she wanted my situation to be stabilized. She worked in a internet company and I was recruited there because they needed a graphic designer. When you want something, nothing should stand in your way.  Otherwise the situation was rewarding in many areas, I was more stable, I became more responsible. Cathy is a legalistic person. Always a spirit of fairness, of following the rules. Anyway, from the beginning I preferred to masturbate than to fuck her. Our phase “we are in love and we have sex all the time (not everywhere)” was brief. Soon she had made arrangements to ensure safe but natural sex: blood test, a coil. I found it very interesting to follow her in this arrangement. This looked like what I always wanted; it had the color, but not the taste certainly. Cathy is an emergency room maniac (frankly when there is an emergency that’s not the place to go to). We were together for all daily activities and even for work … She encouraged me to meet deadlines, pick up [name redacted] at school. A structured life, square, uneventful. But I liked this set up, it made me feel safe, I managed to climb out of the pit gradually. Our financial arrangements were remarkable, she certainly liked numbers, I hated them. In any case, it allowed me to gradually again afford music/CDs… I took much advantage of it. When I brought something new like a CD of Cranes, not matter how great I thought it was, she never showed the least interest. So I remained alone with the music. She liked to watch anything on TV or listen to France-Info.

At first the 3 of us were forced to live in a 32 m2 apartment with only one bedroom which was reserved for [name redacted]. We slept in the living room on a sort of unbearable thing that gives you a terrible backache. This arrangement helped me to save some money. After many visits near [town deleted], the town where we worked we finally found a “small” house, in fact it was a mobile home in a former campsite. A resort for some retirees, and many had turned into a primary residence, it looked a little bit American. The rent was not excessive considering the size of the garden that we had at our disposal. I loved being outside during this period: clearing, arranging space, tinkering! So I spent my time outside. I always had a good reason not to accompany her here and there on weekends. Of course I could not refuse everything. I admit that, in a couple, it is sometimes good to take things easy. But no matter how things are done, the important thing is why!

One day she proposed marriage, despite having always imagined that I didn’t want to stay with her for my whole life. I agreed, a bit because of curiosity, a lot because of weakness. I imagined my life would remain in this state, well, I never see very far ahead … Besides, I was still communicating with my girlfriend from Quebec, she suddenly learned about  my wedding and stopped writing, nothing helped. (One wonders what the point in trying to have normal human relations is).

We talked about the desire for children, she wanted children, but later. She needed time to stabilize her professional life. I said I wanted to have children too, but I’m not sure I said I wanted to have children with her. In addition, I was not always in agreement with the education of [name redacted], and then I’m not his father and therefore it is always difficult to give an opinion about a situation where we have not always been involved. I thought that, ideally, I wanted to have my own children and that’s all, obviously in this case it was not possible. Cathy does not drink, does not smoke (in fact I was smoking my cigarettes outside – she hoped that I would quit), she does not go in strange places. On Sundays, she attended a cult’s sessions. I was masturbating in the garden! a little soap and water is always essential. It was not original, but it was cool!

Then the company we worked for stopped activities. We found a job in Paris. It became essential to find a new home. We went to live in this apartment. Cathy became very career oriented, her sense of business and money. I preferred a nice little company that had not made the best offer but allowed me to be peaceful and do what I please. Finally I think I made the best choice. Better than hers.

Our sex life was like: I suck first, then you fuck me. I suck you, you fuck me…I suck you, you fuck me. Well not always … I studied new positions. I took advantage of her docility to explore further. One day she had bought some Vaseline. She used it mainly for masturbating me, but if there were other uses, it did not occur to me immediately.  The penetration was easy, perhaps due to motherhood, I do not know, I’ve never experienced this change in a woman. I attempted sodomy, she said: “It is too big for such a small hole.”  In the end she was going to bed and I stayed watching TV, after a while, I settled with all the paraphernalia needed: towel, bowl of soapy water to bring myself to completion. Once I almost got caught. How would you feel if I told you I was thinking about you in those moments?  Bah, maybe I was thinking about you or maybe about others too, who knows! What does it change?  It’s like drinking, eating, shitting, vomiting, laying kids. And yet you can have your favorite drink, your favorite dish. For the rest, one does what one can. One chooses what one ingests, ah yes, that’s really beautiful!  But always possible.

Then in the spring of ’99 – Mary arrived. You know that, but I have things to say. I had always sought to make new acquaintances through the internet. Most exchanges ended quickly. I checked the forums, ready to detect a message that would allow me to start a discussion. At the time it is unclear where the Gothics were hiding. With you, there, we were right on a topic that I was passionate about. Bah, even if I was talking about this topic in my everyday life. I saw this topic as a secret garden that I could not share with anyone. You see it through everything you have just read. This subject had generated the best time of my life. It’s amazing how all this lightness that I once had within my grasp had finally left me again. Through unlikely chance. Actually love does not exist. Or what I was waiting for is not love. This is called fusion. And this involves so many constraints that it’s normal that I have never found it on my path. But I wasn’t even able any more to imagine how this could be reached. I had no more belief in this area. You have awakened it. Not on purpose. Are we as pilgrims on a path full of obstacles? Look at me. I’m riddled with unpardonable mistakes.

Over the weeks of our correspondence I have noticed that there was this innocence, an innocent endearing availability. And especially this fantasy, Oh fantasy, I missed it so much! You know. I appreciated so much speaking about other things than the material aspects of life, the trivial things! Other things than Cathyisms! Then I found things in me that I had dropped, suddenly maybe I loved myself better.

Then “we” wanted to meet. Perhaps, rather just “you”. I hoped at least that you find me decent enough to continue to explore this relationship. I slowly had to creep out of lethargy to find my way again. Then you stopped talking. I thought that’s it! I’m shown again that I am worthless. I don’t deserve trust. Not even a little friendship. Then I raved, raved as when I was after Jane. Wandering on the waves of confusion.

I saw in your eyes all your discomfort. All the “misfortunes” of Jane. Coming back and growing in me, I was overwhelmed. In my paranoia, I checked your emails and I understood everything that I hadn’t seen coming. I saw that I missed you, you betrayed me and hurt me to a point that I could not contain… Another Jane was taking shape. I wrote this email that was an electronic suicide. And for a week I had nausea similar to my nausea during all these years. I took the ‘Pornography’ CD with me, maybe I’ve always listened to this CD too much, maybe my life imitates the CD too much, or it’s this music that blends perfectly with me. I did not want to hear anything else. Everything will be limited to those 8 tracks. But there is something fundamentally positive in this record, the essential. All I am and nothing else, just me.

So I thought in the way I was thinking when I was with Jane. I thought if you need me, I’ll be there. Maybe a distorted view, perhaps, but mostly a conviction! I came back because I wanted to help you. I still did not know why or how. But I had to watch over you. So that people would not see you as I was and that you don’t become what I am. I had to catch up all these years when I never knew how to handle things. I also had to redeem myself from my mistakes. You were becoming a fundamental reason for my life to have a meaning.

You were gone but I still had this belief that you would come back. So maybe that, in addition to affection, this desire to hold your hand, made love blossom. I’m just a man … I was thinking of you all the time, with serenity. The most important thing was that I could do something for you, something extraordinarily positive and that I hoped would be beautiful. I was like a Christian who decides to build a cathedral for the Madonna. Now I only know how to make web sites and drawings. So that’s what I did by putting the best of myself into it. That better side than I had been made to hate, I was offering  it again. For me it was foolish, but my redemption.

To your star!

In you, there is a bit of all the girls or boys that I’ve known; it’s your richness in front of the universe. For even the most insignificant experiences are there in me. They are part of my emotional life, like you are. Whether I loved them much or little, they often represent the best of me and sometimes the worst. And I cannot forget them. Perhaps at some point we must go beyond that, otherwise, how to find the strength to give unconditionally. But I wanted you to know them. Not for you to like them, not for you to be like them. But for a knowledge to appear. So I can penetrate  them (figuratively-speaking this time) towards me. A form of resurrection. (eh.. not an erection!)

In September 2000, Cathy chased me away. I did not return home, I spent all my nights and weekends at the office to set up this site. Then long before that, I had started the tables. September, November, December, January, 2001 – nothing was ready; it’s as if I had had nothing to give. You were coming back too soon. It is as if it had been me, inside, that was not ready. My cathedrals were drafts, my dreams made of paper. All this was perhaps not meaningless. Life had other things to teach me and life was evolving quickly. I had faith, I had faith in the best there was in me. Is it to test this faith that I’m sometimes tempted to do the worst. How long would I wait? 6 months, a year. I would have waited 10 years if necessary.

I do not know how, sometimes, I manage to feel and know things about you. I guess I put myself in such a state of empathy (thank you for the word) that I can see things that seem unbelievable. It is better that I stop that, I end up getting lost myself. I’ve gone back to something simpler, such as speech and writing. Because it is a hundred times more effective.

Then you agreed to see me, in principle. But I do not want to take the risk of, sometimes, not being able to give, because there is in me this possibility that I might not forgive myself for being who I am. I want to be sure we meet for good reasons, frivolous, fun, innocent, light reasons. Like before, in the days of the golden age. I still want to, but I wanted you first to know that my life had not been simple and my heart had been hardened. So hard that it scared me.

I have a thirst for the absolute, like everyone else. A desire to find serenity, an inner calm. I pray for my need to give the best of myself without expecting anything in return. For all this crap you just read not to happen again. Sometimes I feel weak; sometimes I call for help, just for a little help that allows me to be confident. Obviously I want to know a strong love, as strong as possible, but not destructive. I think I suffered enough and I’m tired. Then the question is always the same, who? Where is she? I had to tell you all this because I ask for your forgiveness. I do not believe in God and, in any case, I do not expect absolution from him. It is not him that I hurt. I’ve hurt my humanity and with all my heart I want to drink the remedy. No, this can’t be true, I have just rewritten, verbatim, the pornography lyrics in French.

I think I need a vacation.

Long ago when I was eight years old, a Chinese or Vietnamese who was the wife of a policeman told me: “you will live with a beautiful woman. ” I could never believe this.

‘Jean’

How could we miss someone as dumb as this?

Share

Témoignage du Révérend Grant Sutherland

J’écris ce témoignage sous un pseudonyme ; j’ai aussi changé le nom de certains lieux pour protéger mon identité. Il y a plusieurs raisons à cela. D’abord, je ne gagnerais rien à révéler mon vrai nom, quand il y a tant de diffamateurs prompts à harceler tout personnage public prêt à prendre position pour Laura Knight-Jadczyk et son travail. Si cela est nécessaire, je peux toujours témoigner sous mon vrai nom dans un document préparé et enregistré par les autorités légales compétentes. Mais pour le moment, je veux préserver un certain niveau d’anonymat. Cela n’enlève toutefois rien à ce que j’ai à dire. Je prends simplement mes responsabilités, en reconnaissant la nature du monde dans lequel nous vivons.

Je suis prêtre au sein de l’Église anglicane. En tant que religieux, mon travail, ma responsabilité est d’enquêter sur les questions spirituelles, dans l’intérêt de la société en général. Pour nombre de gens au sein de notre société sécularisée, cette vocation peut sembler étrange – mais elle est estimée dans de nombreux milieux, et fait partie d’une tradition de longue date. Une croyance commune veut que la prêtrise soit intrinsèquement conservatrice, et cela est vrai à bien des égards – bien qu’il y ait deux voies à considérer. Une voie pourrait être appelée la « voie du littéraliste » : il s’agit du prêtre qui cherche simplement à perpétuer la tradition qu’il ou elle a reçue. L’autre voie pourrait être appelée la « voie du chercheur ». Là, le prêtre, tout en perpétuant la tradition, explore néanmoins ses implications plus profondes. Continue reading

Share

Témoignage de Harrison Koehli

J’ai eu l’opportunité de rencontrer Laura et sa famille pour la première fois fin 2006. Je suivais son travail depuis environ 3 ans, lisant son site Web et ses ouvrages pendant des heures.

Jusque-là, je n’avais jamais été satisfait des réponses apportées par les leaders religieux, les enseignants et autres prétendues autorités dans ma vie aux « grandes questions ». Ce que je voyais autour de moi ne me plaisait pas : vile cruauté, violence gratuite, bigoterie rigide, et la souffrance qui résulte de l’ignorance. Mais en même temps, je sentais que la vie, c’était plus que cela – une impression de mystère qui n’étais jamais évoquée ni expliquée de façon satisfaisante. Cette impression pouvait être suscitée par un geste attentionné et sincère, ou par un mystère provoquant l’émerveillement et un respect mêlé de crainte ; des anomalies venant perturber la « norme statistique » des événements de la vie de tous les jours.

En grandissant, j’ai commencé à poser encore plus de questions : pourquoi ce mal et cette souffrance dans le monde ? Savons-nous vraiment tout ce qu’il y a à savoir sur la nature de la réalité ? Qu’est-ce qui se cache sous la surface ? Tout débuta vraiment pour moi par un cours de philosophie au lycée, et au bout de quelques années passées à suivre les pistes et à relier les points, j’ai trouvé les travaux de Laura. Continue reading

Share

Témoignage de Nicklebleu, Docteur en médecine, membre du forum Cassiopaea

Laura Knight-Jadczyk, son mari Arkadiusz et l’équipe réunie autour de l’expérience cassiopéenne ont récemment été critiqués sur Internet et qualifiés de « secte ».

Pour commencer, c’est une vieille méthode, utilisée (pour ce que j’en sais) pour la première fois par Karl Marx pour discréditer ses adversaires politiques : « Sektierer » (qu’on peut traduire par « membre d’une secte » mais avec une connotation très négative). Il cataloguait ainsi tous ceux qui critiquaient ses théories et ses divagations psychopathiques.

Dans les années 80, cette méthode fut utilisée principalement par les cercles gauchistes pour discréditer les individus et groupes conservateurs – j’ai une expérience directe de cela, je la décrirai en détail plus bas.

Je suis né en 1961 dans une famille suisse très conservatrice, où le père était la figure dominante. Mon père était politiquement actif dans la communauté et très dévoué à son travail, alors je ne le voyais beaucoup vu lorsque j’étais petit. Il est mort lors d’une excursion en montagne quand j’avais seize ans. Continue reading

Share