My Worst Betrayal is why I am alone now…wp_story1618244613330_0

My best friend would have been my boyfriend but he was mostly gay and had complicated feelings for me, as a woman. Our relationship was a series of extremes but I loved him and lived for the day he wouldn’t punish me with the silent treatment after an especially great time (that was his pattern.) He was from Massachusetts and a huge Patriots fan. He came over the Saturday night after the Patriots made the Superbowl. I was thrilled to wake up and find his phone was beside me in bed. That meant he was still there. I had had my doubts bc he was coming off of a bout of the silent treatment towards me during the week. I felt purely happy when I got out of bed to join him in the kitchen. It was in the kitchen that I found his dead body. The autopsy took 4 months to deliver final results bc toxicology and other tests take place thousands of miles away. During the waiting period the people who comforted me were telling others I had killed him. They spoke of our volatile relationship, going so far as to contact police and medical examiner. Why? Bc they had sold him drugs and if those drugs had killed him they could’ve gotten in trouble. The results of the autopsy was death by accident due to mixed drug intoxication. No large amount of something like an overdose but with 7 drugs in his system, no way to know which drug or what combo had been fatal. Also, the artery that is most important for supplying the heart was 75 percent blocked. I did not kill him, no one did, but my “friends* set me up in case a scapegoat was needed. I have been alone since 2017. My friend never got to see the Patriots win that Superbowl.

I never held their whiteness against them

But I also found out that my race was always on their minds and always had been. Of course when you first meet someone you notice their looks but when you get to know them you think of them by name. Not–the tall guy, for example. When it came to me, the person who had introduced me to my best friend referred to me as “that black girl.” She had known me for ten years. When my friend died she became concerned that his family would review his finances and find checks written out to her in handwriting that was not his, and the checks were signed in this unknown person’s handwriting. For her purpose of distracting the family from her fraud she told them the black hooker killed him and had robbed him too. At that time she was out on bail awaiting sentencing for the robbery charge she picked up when she bit the security guard at Macy’s in Windward Mall. She was looking at 10 years. And if the sentencing judge had heard she picked up a new financial fraud felony…a happy ending for her would be unlikely.

Last of all, I felt betrayed by the administration. God let me feel love and snatched it away. So I really know what I am missing.

It is hard to pray with the belief that Someone with my best interests at heart is hearing and rearranging things to benefit me. You can understand my scepticism can’t you?

Addiction and Prostitution in Hawaii Geriatric Street Life

Geriatric Hookers–Aging, Addiction, and Sex Work

Thursday, July 22, 2021, 11:33 p.m., Honolulu, Hawaii

Remember Winona, age 60 something? She might have had a stroke

I say “might” because when she was stricken with whatever made her seriously ill, she only stayed in the hospital a day and a half and left against medical advice. It is not unusual for people with addictions to leave the hospital in search of dope downtown. Queens Hospital is near downtown Honolulu, and they get a lot of street people looking for a place to sleep or presenting with self inflicted (and therefore “unworthy”) medical issues from doing drugs like skin abscesses or inflammation of the valves of the heart from bacteria introduced into the body by the needle pushing it beneath the skin. Most addicts do not swab their arms or wherever they are shooting dope. The staff at Queens is so hostile to addicts that, in my humble opinion, many of them are downright unprofessional and I wonder if they are trying to drive people out to their deaths. After a seizure a woman from downtown was resting in the Queens E.R. when a nurse one would expect to exhibit compassion, woke her by kicking the gurney and saying, “Get up Get out. I am not your mother.” Queens is an easy hospital to leave, especially given it is within walking distance to dope, even for people wheeling i.v. poles. I have seen a patient with i.v. in tow looking for dope, still wearing the hospital gown. Winona was similar to this person in that she needed a wheelchair but did not wait for the social worker to help her so she arrived downtown pushing herself along in a wheeled office chair. Winona won’t go back to the hospital, according to another associate, Antonia, another downtown denizen of a certain age, who is in a wheelchair because she did not follow through with physical therapy after hip replacement surgery and her muscles are too atrophied to allow her to walk again. Or so I have heard.

I told Winona I would take care of her if she went back to the hospital. I’ll bring her dope. But she won’t go. I don’t really think she had a stroke because I had a stroke when I was in the hospital and that does not seem to be what is wrong. She is weak though. I watch out for her at night because she sleeps with our group. But I can’t keep supporting her habit because I have to sell the stuff or get cut off.

Antonia, contradicting herself by promising to supply the ailing Winona with dope but complaining that Winona feels entitled to free dope now that she cannot work the track to supplement ineffectual sales. The women are both their own best customers and unless they have plenty of heroin they have always had to supplement their dealing with prostitution to keep themselves well, or avoid withdrawal due to lack of heroin.

Fear of Missing Out is a real psychological phenomena that keeps aging and ailing addicts hunting for dope when they should be seeking medical care

Addicts know that once hospitals have a record of your addiction, they are extremely reluctant to give you even necessary painkillers. There is no such thing as successful drug seeking behavior at Honolulu hospitals. The staff is hip to that game and they seem to get offended that patients would try to con them. The only way to have dope in the hospital is to very respectfully explain that you have a habit and ask for the minimum of methadone to stay out of withdrawal. If you do this, it is likely the hospital will comply, but that is no way to get high and addicts have to sneak in additional dope if they want more than to just not be sick. Addiction causes problems precisely because people are unable to regulate their use, or resist their cravings for drugs. People with addictions are often unable to leave an area where the drugs are located to go to a drug free area. The very thought of such a journey, however short or temporary, can cause full blown panic attacks. The slang term is “getting stuck” and it is one of the main reasons people miss appointments, family gatherings, court dates, anything of tremendous importance is that they do not anticipate getting stuck. They imagine they will leave in plenty of time to arrive at the urgent affair and that simply does not happen, nor is this failure ever anticipated. The mental disease lies to the sufferer and tells her, “this time will be different.” Things are never different. I have seen drug users grow older and more infirm, and although they are not elderly by society’s standards, once they are in their 50’s and 60’s their health is quite bad and does not improve because they make no more effort to support their health than they did in their pre-teens, which is when most addicts raised in Hawaii get their start using drugs.

The Problem is death is not instantaneous

Addicts, even non-addicts, will say they do not fear death. Who cares anyway? It is not like anyone will miss them. Their families, parents, children, siblings, do not speak to them. There are no real friends in the dope game. If it all came to an end would that be so bad? Obviously, I have no idea about death but I do know that people rarely go from perfect health to instantaneous oblivion. A period of disability is not unusual. I have seen people last for several years, confined to bed, unable to rise, or speak, or understand words spoken to them. This period of infirmity is almost universally feared by anyone I have ever spoken to about it. Whenever people refuse to take their blood pressure medication claiming they do not care if their life ends, I remind them of how a stroke can leave them. And I tell them that they vow they would kill themselves before they let that fate befall them, but that fate befalls them before they have the chance to kill themselves. Then what are you going to do when your body is your prison?

Is there an addict community?

Kind of. There are people who will help you get high, or provide you with a place to get high if you share your drugs. You might even come to like these people and seek out their company. But will they be there to care for you since you have no family? I know a woman named Joyce, also in a wheelchair, now that I think about it, whose hip replacements became infected from street life and in a process I do not understand somehow her hips are not securely held within the ball and socket joint. Like the previous two women in chairs, she is not paralyzed but infirm from street life. Yet she has a smile for everyone and she insists that I, and everyone else, band together to take care of each other because we have no one else. It is hard to motivate for the previous two women who have gossiped about me with considerable viciousness and stolen from me. I could help Joyce, although I admit to avoiding her since Winona got sick and she insisted that I find Winona and see if she needed my help or if she wanted to stay with me. I do not want Winona in my space because she would rather see me homeless by sabotaging me than for me to have a place she might be able to visit. This amount of spite is very typical. Like others who escaped the streets, I learned that I had to get rid of my desire to reach out to others or else lose what I have when these others do things like leave syringes around the property in the hope of causing me to lose my apartment. Joyce is kind and she shows me I could be a better person, but my willingness to risk everything for people who would never risk anything for me is not great. Forget risk, these people would not inconvenience themselves for me! Do I believe that I might need someone to take care of me? Realistically, I have learned that it is only the folly of youth that makes people thing themselves invulnerable. Something could happen to me and I might need help and if that happens I do not know what will become of me. But I do know that opening a care home in my place will not win me any favor with women who dislike me but will happily use me.


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There’s Two Ways to Live Life Vis-a-vis Death

2 Life Strategies

Death is Imminent–Live like you’re dying, ever mindful that each moment could be your last. Best for people who thrive on intensity. Yogis with Type A Personalities could thrive in this self imposed pressure cooker, bellowing the word AWARENESS to their psyches.

Death is Eventual, I guess. Live like you have all the time. Do things as you always have. Enjoy your relaxed pace. You won’t get to everything anyway, so why fret? If you must deal with the business of planning for your death, do so as if that outcome is about someone else, or only hypothetical and not immutably predetermined for you personally.

Now that I think if it, you might be right about your end. We are all so sure that death and taxes are guarantees. I’ve dealt with the latter but perhaps the former is a presumption not a promise. I never thought of this possibility before and I’ve never heard it. I might have come up with my first original idea, that my own possible death has not been proven! But I digress…

Death–imminent or eventual? Your philosophy of choice is your prerogative.

When you take death into account there are two style choices for ones approach to life. Impending or Eventual

Caroleena, expert_escort

Trump Impeached? The American Public is not virginal when it comes to public figures President Nixon, The Vietnam War and Other Scandals Have Jaded Us and the News Coverage of the Impeachment Proves Our Hardened Hearts

A California church is praying for the resurrection of one of it’s youngest members after the toddlers unexplained sudden death this week. I understand their logic. The Bible presents the example if the resurrection of Jesus and Lazarus. There you have it, 2 precedents. The Bible also tells us that we will do “greater works” than Jesus through our applied faith. No, I can’t give you a how-to guide on achieving said greater works.

To be A Christian One Must Believe Jesus is Divine, Not Just A Really Good Guy

I have read that many people gladly attribute spiritual goodness to Jesus, a man who talked about a lot of good stuff that they support. Live one another and the related teachings are in line with who they want to become. Most of these semi-believers can’t say they have definitive faith in his divinity. Thus, they aren’t Christians bc the Crux of the religion is defeating death, death being the wages of sin that we’ve all earned. Jesus paid our price. Then the penalty for the wages if sin, once paid, was eradicated by the resurrection (I hope I’m missing details bc as I reread my writing, the whole story sounds impossible.)

Example of an innocent Paying the Price for a sin

Kind of like my $130 jaywalking ticket. If someone paid it for me the I’d be off the hook, yet the penalty would be satisfied. As long as someone pays the ticket the state if Hawaii is happy. Any volunteers? I didn’t think so. Churches acknowledge that we don’t understand what Catholics call “mysteries” or why things are the way they are. We don’t know why Jesus’ death satisfies my spiritual debt just like a check from Jesus would pay the jaywalking fine (if only!). I suppose if we follow the illustration to its logical end, the money would e returned and no one would ever be charged again

We are to accept what’s held to be true, even if we can’t know why. Does the term “mystery” attempt to cover a weak point in the legend? I don’t know. But I do know that true believers accept everything. Hey, I accept the truth of gravity and that’s mostly a mystery to me, so my understanding is not necessary to keep the world turning.


There are semi believers who kind of believe in our government. Once, we had faith. We could be shocked, scandals held our attention. Does it seem odd to anyone that a story like this should be featured on this important day in history. I think I know why the impeachment is headlining but not monopolizing the news. No one cares about the impeachment to the exclusion of all else. When the debacle went down with President Clinton, his impeachment did monopolize the news and every channel. In the end it was anti-climactic.

Our president was impeached? Now what?”

  • Do we need a new president?
  • Is the vice president running things?
  • Is President Clinton going to prison? What about Monica Lewinsky?
  • Does President Clinton have to resign, like President Nixon?

We waited for some major consequence to come down the pike. As a member of society, recounting history for the youth, I would have to interpret the general mood as confused and irritated ultimately turning to indifference. To many, myself included, the Clinton situation was mine of the public’s business. Those issues were for the couple to work out. We were brought in on a bunch of foolishness which seemed more like personal attacks than concern for me and my fellow citizens. My beloved late friend, who’d been a medic in the Vietnam War said:

If the President of the greatest country in the world, the country I saw a lot of guys die for, if he can’t get no p****, ain’t no hope for the rest of us. Some of the guys who died [serving in Vietnam] were so young, they ain’t never had no p****. Crying for their mothers, blood running into the dirt. My president better be getting p***** or I don’t know why anyone would die for this country.

The words of My dear departed friend, A man who would have been devastated if the powerful office of POTUS didn’t include the benefit of sex with whomever, wherever, and however the leader of the Free world wanted

News Was Once Compelling

Now it’s Trump in the impeachment hot seat. Different details but same thing that got Nixon and Clinton–abuse of power. The Jaded Public is no longer shocked, not really too surprised either.

My understanding of how people experienced Nixon’s impeachment is this: That event rocked their worlds, dismantled the faith and trust people had in government. And like Humpty Dumpty, when that belief was shattered it couldn’t be put back together again. During that time, people said, “How could he?” They hoped it wasn’t true but overall the public didn’t fight Nixon’s departure. The media was trusted.

Today, “How could he?” is replaced by:

  • Of course he did!
  • What do you expect?
  • What’s the point of being in power of you can’t use the power for personal gain?
  • Maybe he did, but he’s still awesome.
  • He totally did, and I can live with it.
  • The Democrats have done and are doing way worse!
  • He’s innocent, it’s just partisan politics at our county’s expense
  • I don’t know what really happened but I doubt anyone’s telling the whole truth after three years of saying the same things. Nothing’s going to change so I don’t pay really close attention. (My stance)

Many agree with me that Trump’s issues have nothing to do with me, though politicians tell me I’m being attacked (whoever’s talking points the finger at the opposition; both sides have similar rhetoric). That’s why media outlets include stories like the one about grief stricken parents enlisting community help to perpetuate the fairy tale that they can get their dead child back if the whole church prays. You’d think that’s a story for a slow news day, not a historic day our descendants ill will study in school. When those future kids learn about today I hope they learn why we became so cynical. I guess, like my late friend who was a medic in Vietnam, we’ve all seen American boys young enough to still be virgins killed bc they couldn’t buy their way out of the draft by going to college. Their sin was poverty, the blood that flowed was from the poor, not the blood of Jesus. We’ve watched the rich and powerful maintain their status as Men Behaving Badly. They’re not punished at all or their punishments are laughable. Maybe Jesus died only for the rich, who get a free pass. If anything happens to Trump, I’m sure shoplifters will face steeper consequences. I will see what happens so I can talk about it when I’m old but I’ve got no skin in this game.

Be sure to alert me if that child is resurrected. My words are meant to show a sign of the times. I want to clearly express my sympathy for the family. I have had some experience with that pain of grief and loss. You worry the pain’ll kill you, but you’re more afraid that it won’t.

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Did You Know There Would be So Much Death

Everyone wants to live long, but no one wants to grow old.

You ever hear that expression? I have. It made me think that the main problem with the passage of time is growing old. The aging I have experienced really sucks, to be perfectly honest. Once, I was young and beautiful. Now I am middle aged and very attractive. I do the best I can to stay in shape, and sure I look better than other people my age but compared to my former self, well, my appearance is not the same. I don’t like it, but I guess it would be unbearably freaky not to age, to truly look 21. Listen to me, writing as if I had been offered the chance to not show my age, but for the sake of keeping to the natural order of things, I declined. Lol. I thought aging was the worst part of time passing. And then, people started to die. At first, it was people much older than me, and far removed from me, like actors from the early days of Hollywood. I had no family, so I did not have to experience the worst part of loving someone I grew up with–the inevitable loss of that person. But now, death is everywhere. People I know, people I know of, famous people whose work affected my life (Prince, Michael Jackson). The circle of people I hung out with is diminishing. It was a loose circle, not a tight group. I found out about the death of the person who used to drive me to my escort appointments around the island when I worked for an escort service that had ads in the phone book. He had been honest, reliable, and I always paid him what I owed, even if we got to the site and the date didn’t happen because the guy changed his mind. Still, we weren’t friends, because once a guy knew what I did for a living, he felt a sense of entitlement to my services, especially if he did anything for me. I’m not talking about favors, but if I hired a guy and paid him cash, he still felt entitled to sex. I disagreed, and made enemies by doing so. In fact, my refusal to have sex with him caused him to lead a rampant rumor among other guys I had refused, that my fit body is not a product of exercise but evidence that I was once a man. Had I been the one to die, I doubt he would have spent a lot of mental energy pondering me. Oh, he might have mentioned it to other people to further the rumor because people like to look privy to information that is unknown to others. Gossip is almost another addiction in that it is so very difficult to refuse. He probably would have continued to gossip about me, but beyond that, he would not have cared. (If I take the words he spoke about me as an indication of his opinion of me.)

Aging is terrible but it beats the alternative.

I can’t get the death of one of my detractors out of my mind. Between 2015-2017 I was with three people during their last 24 hours on this earth. These three people mattered to me as individuals and as a part of what’s happening in my life–the introduction to death. Did you, dear Readers, know that death was such a part of life as you get older? I didn’t. I feel blindsided and full of dread. I figured I would tell anyone else who was as clueless as I was so they can be prepared. If preparation for the inevitability of death is truly possible, I don’t know. I guess we shall see.