CHAPTER 4: “PUSH PINS & PIANO’S”
As an adult; as a fifty two year old grandfather Jonathan (“James”), would be unable to quite remember (specifically) why he was so angry about that particular day as a third grader. So many details of his past were foggy, unclear to him. As he sat quietly at the table with his laptop open; he could hear the hum of the heater from his bedroom, a dog barking in the distance. He took another gulp of coffee from the can.
Mean Bean Java Monster.
This had become a “go to” for the boy when he would write. Today when he first sat to write there was no music. Instead the boy closed his eyes in the silence of his tiny studio apartment, focusing, trying hard to recall. Trying to remember what drove him to harm his classmate who probably didn't deserve it that day. Gregory Slusky.
Why did I do that? He thought. Why?
The man-boy sat before his open laptop; shaking his head. He needed background music to aid his thinking; to influence ability to write. He needed something to help lift his spirits. Something that would help him to feel; what he didn’t really WANT to feel. Many of these emotions were just too powerful, wretched, and tormenting. He needed to learn how to let them wash over him; without actually breaking him.
As a child the boy would discover his deep connection to music; and, how it would influence how he felt. His parents would discover quite by accident that he was able to play the piano as long as someone else first played it. “A Gift” they called it. He could “play by ear” they said. He could see in his mind where his fingers belonged far easier than reading the sheet music which made no sense to him. Like a foreign language he would never learn.
The boy WANTED to create; but, instead Mara ("Bitter") would suck every ounce of joy he felt from the music coming from the upright piano in the living room. Though his fingers skillfully played “The Entertainer” for the parade of guests they would bring by the house to show off this skill; it made him feel more like a street monkey who was forced to perform. Everyone applauded the boy not knowing that when no one else was around Mara would terrorize him over practicing the piano. Giving the boy grievous resentment towards her; and the instrument.
Rupert wanted little Jimmy to play like Liberace. When the boy was old enough to understand Liberace was himself a flaming homosexual he didn’t want anything to do with it. He didn’t want anything to do with anyone like JEFF ever again.
Mara would reassure the boy that if he didn’t like the piano he could always quit the lessons. The boy already sang in the choir at church; his voice clear and powerful enough to be chosen to sing solos for the congregation at All Souls Episcopal Church less than a mile from their residence. What he WANTED was to learn to play the guitar.
“No way” Mara would tell him. “What about the drums?” asked the boy.
He liked the way he could feel the percussion of the drums; and, the vibrating cymbals within his own body. The heavy beat; and, tempos created seemed to match the way he felt inside. Angry. He had hoped he could use it as a way to express himself without her interference. Mara’s bitter nature would never give the boy the opportunity. She had already decided for him. Removing control from the boy.
This seemed to be a pattern in the boy’s life. Women who intentionally manipulate control exerting their own will above his without concern for consequence. Women who would abandon; abuse; and harm him in ways others couldn’t see; or recognize. This would spill over into adulthood in the form of trust issues.
Mrs. Shoot was his piano teacher. She would give him private lessons early in the evening after school twice a week. On Wednesdays he had choir practice. She lived close to his adopted grandparents; and was a patient woman. Beautiful even for an older lady. She was kind to the boy; and made him feel at ease. She wore her long black luxurious hair up in an elegant beehive. It made her look dignified. Royal even.
Tears rolled down the man-boys face as he remembered her with fondness listening to the Superman theme mashup. Recalling the first time she played the John Williams theme on her piano for him as a youth even though it sounded anemic without trumpets, cymbals, and drums of the orchestra.
He wished he had been brave enough to tell her.
IF ONLY KAL-El WAS REAL. HE HAD THOUGHT AS A BOY. IN HEBREW KAL-EL MEANT "VESSEL OF GOD" KAL-EL WOULD HAVE PUT A STOP TO THIS MADNESS.
HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SEE WHAT OTHERS COULD NOT.
WITH THE EYES AND EARS OF A GOD, (OF AN ELOHIM) HE COULD DISCERN TRUTH, AND UNDERSTOOD JUSTICE. AS AN ADULT HE WOULD BELIEVE IN ANOTHER EL - ANOTHER GOD
He smiled as he closed his eyes remembering how her thin fingers moved with mastery as he watched; listening to the notes feeling the vibration deep in his soul. He wanted to be able to read the music like she did. He didn’t understand why; but he needed the approval of this woman. The centerpiece of her living room was a very expensive black Grand Piano, a gift from her late husband. This gift gave her an income in her retirement as she taught children how to play themselves. She was passionate about the piano. Often she would rub her nails on his back as he struggled with the keys and proper placement.
“You can do this Jimmy, just take a deep breath, breathe. You can do this”
She didn’t understand that the sheet music was an impediment for the boy. He felt frustrated because the dark notes on the paper didn’t make sense to him. Yet the way she sought to LEAD the boy instead of pushing or forcing like Mara was soothing; calming; safe. As an adult the Man of Steel Album would be something he would play over; and over again as he drove the streets of Los Angeles as an Uber driver.
He would become a fan of epic movie soundtracks and composers.
He recalled one night not wanting to go home after practice. He wanted to stay. Deep in his gut he wanted to tell her. She hugged the boy before he would leave; a lump forming in his throat, his eyes tearing up. He would quickly wipe his face so she wouldn’t suspect anything. He feared Mara’s wrath. He feared going home.
Mara and Rupert would invest in two pianos. One was placed in the living room so he could perform like a good little monkey when others came to visit. The other; an antique, would sit in the garage; at least until little Jimmy would damage it beyond repair during an angry outburst. This outburst would be costly. The antique alone could have covered his college tuition.
Rupert had a thing for antiques; and, after many years would open Thistle Dew Antiques.
The boy didn’t want rigid instruction. “Just teach me how to use this and then get out of the way. Let me create” he thought. Why couldn’t she understand that? Why does it always have to be about what SHE wants?
When are others going to listen to what I WANT?
The choice of music had assisted the boy to write; helping his mind to access images; moments in time he hadn’t revisited in many years. The music itself was a pleasant invasion “Crimson Collapse: Just Once, Just One, To Feel” He liked the rhythm, percussion, and notes of the guitar even the voice of the man singing what the boy already felt.
The adult man-boy was afraid to face the TRUTH; because the truth was beyond painful. He had LOST someone he NEEDED. Someone he LOVED. Someone he had MISTREATED in his own brokenness.
The last few days of writing had been filled with weeping as tears would roll down the boy's face while he sought the right words. The experience itself hurt; and, he didn’t exactly like that part; but, somehow it was cathartic. Somehow it was releasing pent up pressure that had made him feel as if he were going to explode.
He had been drinking almost every day since his ex-wife Talia (of eighteen years) had told him she was dating someone. She admitted it had been going on for the last three months. “The Kid’s have met him; and, they like him” she would say to him as she sat on the chair in his living room. He felt as if he had been struck in the gut with the butt of a rifle. His mind reeling; and, his stomach feeling as if he were disoriented; and, spinning. Like going too fast on a merry-go-round. They had been divorced for over two years; but that didn't make him miss her any less. It still didn't serve to deaden his pain at this new knowledge.
He had just seen her a few days before when she gave him; and his youngest daughter “Dassa” a ride to a Christmas party half an hour away. His other closest friend Jason who was still living he had known even longer than Kirk. On the way to Gibson Manor and Jason’s annual Christmas party the two talked. She told him about her new job working with developmentally disabled children; something she had a passion for. He smiled at the news. He was happy for her, genuinely happy. She deserved a job that suited her; and, she loved children.
Especially those with a learning disability; just like herself.
James ("Jonathan") missed her face; her voice; her touch. The way she smelled. The way he would lay his leg upon hers at night so he had the reassurance she was there. He needed to feel her next to him in order to fall asleep at night. He missed the way Talia was such a heater at night especially when it was cold; often needing to toss off the covers. He missed the softness of her body; and, her lips. He longed to see her smile at him again with her eyes; and felt empty inside without her quirky sense of humor.
A painfully lonely emptiness had settled into him. An aloneness he despised in his cramped studio apartment devoid of photographs; children; and, their dog Tikvah. His daughter had taken his cat (worried he would harm himself) making the man feel even more alone. The chocolate brown cat Sereph would curl up on his lap as he watched tv; purring. In the mornings she would gently wake him by laying on his head her purring waking the grown boy with a smile. "Hello my love" he called her. "Mi Amore" It had been twenty four days since he had seen her; or held her.
He missed calling Talia "Babe" and he missed hearing her call him that right back "Babe." It would make him feel terribly nauseated inside; knowing another man was earning her affection. That another man was....
CRASH...
He threw the dish at the floor hard; shattering it into a thousand pieces as he sat alone writing. Anger mingled with deep sadness flooded over him as tears burst forth.
He would give anything to have their marriage restored. Literally anything. But his words; his pleas for her to stop fell upon deaf ears. Realizing he couldn't return made the boy feel ill. He couldn’t cry when she told him; but, he could feel his anxiety rise sharply as he shook on the inside. He knew he would most definitely need his medication tonight; perhaps even something else.
“Have you given yourself to him?”
"Have you given yourself to him?" He would ask, trying to maintain control of his emotions. “That’s none of your business” she snapped at him. “I’m not your wife anymore.” Jonathan felt sick. The nausea in his stomach churned while a lump formed in his throat. He tried hard to swallow.
Within their own relationship Jonathan and Talia had become pregnant within the first three months of dating; and, had married within the same year. He couldn’t keep his hands off her; and fell hard for this woman whose eyes captivated him. As far as he was concerned. She was sexy. Beautiful. Quiet. Patient; and, Kind. Yet he hadn’t told her nearly enough. He grieved even harder at his own brokenness stalling his ability to think; to write.
Talia was filled with qualities he had wanted in a wife; even prayed for years before there would ever lock eyes. Qualities he had been denied in his mother as an adopted child. She thought he was going to leave her over her pregnancy. Instead the boy told her “I’m not going anywhere.” His decision to stay and to marry her would be the best decision he had ever made. He wanted to do right by her. HE wanted another chance at a family.
Taila’s body would receive his seed; offering him two children; yet, the couple would experience the deep loss of a child in between them. A child that would be poisoned to death through vaccination in the first trimester.
Talia’s doctor had asserted that it was SAFE to get vaccinated during her pregnancy. The same lie which would be repeated over and over again on MSNBC at the onset of COVID. She would miscarry the same week; receiving this sorcerers concoction, this flu vaccine. This poison. The fruit of her womb; a sibling to their other two children would perish from this realm to await them in another. This loss would be carried most heavily by the child's mother. The baby who wound never be held against her breast; or kissed by his father the way he would kiss the next child he knew was a blessing. This same week their first born would also receive inoculation with the SAFE / NOT REALLY SAFE poison.
They would almost lose their first born son to these “safe” vaccines.
This loss would years later cause him to literally spiral out of control panicking in such a way that Talia would dismiss as mental illness in 2020 as he would research the Covid 19 Vaccines; SV-40; and, the HIV protein coat. SV-40 was a cancer causing substance that had been part of the manufacturing process; and, the HIV protein coat necessary to fool the body into not automatically destroying this foreign substance that would in a few short years decimate the earth with death. Details the US Government; and, many others did their best to hide.
The boy would do his best to warn the world as he was repeatedly banished by Social Media finally being DE platformed by Facebook only after amassing thousands of followers. HE would NOT back down; and, upped his game doing even more research. He knew what he needed to do; and, would move to INSTAGRAM then LINKEDIN Writing and posting online where he could share it with anyone who would listen. As he did he would discover the power of censorship used against those desperately trying to warn others as he was.
- https://10-virgins-parable.blogspot.com/p/pharmacopeia.html
- https://10-virgins-parable.blogspot.com/p/qanon-wwg1wga.html
- https://10-virgins-parable.blogspot.com/p/the-fauchi-deception.html
- https://10-virgins-parable.blogspot.com/p/saveusnoworg.html
Talia’s learning disability (which was mild compared to her siblings) made it extremely difficult for Jonathan to convey to her what he had discovered. Her disability impacted her reading skills; comprehension; and, grasp of complicated mathematics; but, she was highly functioning. The stack of data; medical journal articles; and, facts was something she simply couldn't absorb.
He would erupt like a volcano in the blood red room; at the round copper table were two Oncologists would double team her in front of him. Jonathan would threaten the medical professional in such a way it was crystal clear.
"If you place my wife on a protocol that takes her life; there isn't going to be place on this earth you are going to be safe from me. Do you fucking understand me?" The boy was livid shaking inside realizing they were bold faced lying to his wife.
As they left the Stephen's Cancer center Talia would snap at him. "No offense James; but you aren't a doctor. You didn't go to medical school." All he wanted to do was PROTECT this woman he loved; but, she no longer TRUSTED him. She refused to accept his leadership. In his own brokenness he had hurt her deeply; much too deeply.
THE COVID-19 VACCIENE WASN’T A VACCIENE. IT WAS A COUNTERMEASURE. A BIOLOGICAL WEAPON. A STERILIZATION PROTOCOL. A TOOL TO CULL THE MASSES.
“For thy merchants were the great men of the earth.
For by thy sorceries were the nations deceived.” REVELATION 18:23
G5331 φαρμακεία pharmakeia far-mak-i'-ah
From G5332; medication (“pharmacy”), that is, (by extension) magic (literal or figurative): - sorcery, witchcraft.
G5332 φαρμακεύς pharmakeus far-mak-yoos'
From φάρμακον pharmakon (a drug, that is, spell giving potion); a druggist (“pharmacist”) or poisoner, that is, (by extension) a magician: - sorcerer.
The boy would GRASP DEEPLY what was being done while many were totally oblivious to the ongoing sterilization and depopulation protocol playing out in real time. His own NBC (Nuclear-Biological-Chemical) Warfare training in the Marine Corps where he has learned how to decontaminate vehicles; equipment and personnel would help him to see through the propaganda clearly recognizing it as a Psychological Operation.
His lifelong study of the book of Revelation was opening to him in a way it never had before; and, he was panicked terrified even. He could see clearly what many others could not; and, it tortured the boy as he realized the globe was now slow walking through the time of Jacob’s trouble; and, he was powerless to stop it. Though he did his absolute best to tell others; to warn about what he had uncovered his words would be censored; comments removed; and, the links which others could follow expunged as he was DE platformed across multiple social media outlets.
Great Tribulation was coming. And the boy knew it.
Enoch declares that this time period would be the removal of the wicked; but, he knew that it also meant that those who love God and Keep His Commandments would be persecuted; hunted; terminated. The boy had grave concern for his family.
How do I protect my own family when they won’t even listen to me?
No one else he had ever dated knew the extent of his trauma. Talia WOULD know; and, she would choose to love him. Falling for him; just as he had fallen for her. Until his own sin; and, brokenness caused her to choose to leave him. Until his own rage would turn outward instead of inward. It would terrify her; and, make her feel unsafe.
His anger over the betrayal he suffered from his own family had been coupled with ANOTHER betrayal. One that entered their family through Talia’s natural sibling also adopted by the same family as she was. This betrayal? Talia's brother (UNCLE) would sexually assault both of Jonathan’s daughters. One when she was only eight years old; and, the other at the fragile, innocent, tender age of just four. He didn't know it at that time; but, this would in the long term destroy his family. It would open a pandora's box of trauma in the boy; trauma he had spent the last thirty years trying to forget; and, it would consume him.
Jonathan knew. At the very moment Talia snapped back. He knew without a doubt that she had already given herself to this new man in her life. Letting him into her mind; her heart; her mouth; and, deep inside her body. The adult Jonathan felt this heat in his chest burning along with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t place his finger upon.
“Do you love him?” He would ask.
“Do you love him?”
“No” she blurted out. Her hesitation was absolutely non-existent. “Why are you with him then?” He fought the urge to cry. Not wanting to appear any weaker than he already felt.
Every single day since Talia had delivered this news the man-boy reached for liquid mercy. He would choose the same path his birth father had chosen. Alcohol. This knowledge tore at his heart and soul like the sharpened talons of an eagle. Shredding and severing. Leaving nothing but devastation in its wake as he struggled to cope with what was happening. He wished for death to end his suffering; and began to quietly make plans even as he openly expressed his intentions to others.
Jonathan would respond by lashing out at his youngest daughter Dassa. He felt betrayed; in a way she would never understand. “Loose my number" he screamed through the phone.
“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious Dad?”
Today as Jonathan would write he noted that it had been twenty three days since his life felt as if an enemy had thrown a live grenade into it. The man-boy repeatedly needed the numbness which would only come after two cans of Smirnoff were consumed, and discarded empty into his trash can each night. It wasn’t the only substance he would use to regulate this feeling he couldn’t handle. The Smirnoff would deaden his pain; but, wouldn’t help him to sleep. “Maybe I need to drink three of these to sleep next time.”
MAYBE I NEED TO DRINK THREE OF THESE TO SLEEP
His new neighbor Walter; a Navy veteran; a divorcee like Jonathan was a recovering alcoholic who chaired a local AA meeting. Walt had been off the sauce for over ten years. That night after Talia had dropped a bomb on him the man-boy would go to an AA meeting with Walt just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. He sat in the darkness of the candlelight; his body sinking into the soft oversized chair. From where he sat no one could see he was crying silently; his body quietly convulsing as he tried to hide himself.
He couldn’t handle being alone right now.
He wasn’t even sure he could handle being alive.
The Man-boy was doing his best to trust the process. Jordan Peterson had suggested this self authoring program; and, the boy wanted to heal. He desperately needed to heal; because in his own pain he had managed to push away almost every person in his family.
He sat there. Unsure of what to write.
All he could remember was that he had taped two (2) push pins from his teacher’s desk onto Greg’s chair. One for each buttock. He remembered a flash of being angry; a feeling of being determined to give Greg an “I’ll show him” moment. But why? What was Greg’s crime against the boy? He truly couldn't remember. He wished somehow that he could meet with Greg over coffee; to apologize genuinely; and, be raw, vulnerable even explaining what had been occurring at the Matthews household.
The boy didn’t want sympathy. He wanted to be understood. To be forgiven.
He wanted relationships with other people who SAW HIM. With people who wanted to KNOW him. He desired the types of friendships he witnessed others outside his family enjoying. The boy had only maintained a small handful of relationships in his life. Quality over quantity. Among them; one would impact the boy deeper than ANY OTHER. A boy himself deeply conflicted; and, in more pain that Jonathan would recognize. The two would enjoy a bond of friendship; yet Jonathan would himself hide his own story’s details from his best friend out of fear of rejection.
“Where the Wild Things Are”
Jonathan’s childhood best friend Kirk Austin Suiter (“WILD THING”); whom he had known since the ninth grade, a friend he shared the title of United States Marine with; a brother bonded in blood was gone. He had been gone for over a year before the boy would return home.
Only his grandfather Jack’s death would rival the pain he would feel as an adult.
Jonathan’s youngest daughter Dassa; the one with beautiful blue eyes; and, the look of her mother would console her father repeatedly in the weeks following Kirk’s departure. Kirk would choose to exit this realm in the EXACT same manner little Jonathan would ALSO CHOOSE as a third grader in just a few short months. Except in Jonathan’s case Rupert would catch him; and, intervene, stopping the boy before he would go too far saving his life.
Jonathan remembered laughing at Gregory; hard in fact, while nobody else did. This had the effect of obviously outing the boy as the culprit. He would feel shame as an adult for some of these acts where he brought harm to his classmates.
The boy’s aggressiveness would become a strength; an ally even, when he would play football in High School at Bishop McGuinness. Jonathan would introduce Kirk to the weight room at the YMCA. The skinny skater boy with a full head of hair would latch onto this one day; himself owning two Crossfit locations in Oklahoma City. Kirk would show unwavering support of young men who wanted to ready themselves for service in the Military. Preparing them for basic training.
James respected Kirk. He missed his friend. He needed someone he could trust; and, rely on to help him through this. He needed Wild Things counsel; or maybe just some fellowship and Metallica. How do I make peace with this bro? How do I make this right? Kirk’s own father was a therapist himself. He remembered one day after a strenuous workout the two were in Kirk’s living room. Wild Thing had a bowl of Oreo’s and milk eating it like cereal.
“Sometimes people who deserve love the least; need it the most”
An explanation would never excuse the aggressive behavior towards Gregory; but, it could bring INSIGHT thereby making it EASIER for the person wronged; or harmed, to forgive their assailant. For the boy; it would be his own experience, that when others had come to him on their own expressing sorrow; and, guilt over how they had mistreated him it made it much easier for him to forgive; and, feel empathetic towards the other person.
Especially when they were raw; vulnerable; and honest.
He probably wouldn’t even take my call. Jonathan thought.
He probably still thinks I’m some sick, demented, mental patient.
“Jimmy” was alone in the classroom. Everyone else was on the playground enjoying themselves. Laughing, hollering, running around, enjoying themselves in play. Being kids. He remembered looking out the classroom’s only window as his father Rupert would drive off from the lower school in his orange ford pinto. It was the week where he would take off with the fifth grade class each year to Camp Goddard. Inside he trembled. He HATED being left alone with Mara. He didn’t want to stay with her without Rupert in the home to act as interference.
The adult boy closed his eyes, his hands pausing above the keyboard.
That’s not the right word he thought. FEARED. He feared her. Little Jonathan’s protector Rupert would be gone for an entire week. He knew that this week meant Mara had full reign over anything that took place in their home; school; and, especially the front seat of the car.
The boy turned away from the window. Inside he felt rage, indignation, fear, and a host of other emotions he was still too young to really grasp. On the teachers desk were push pins; and, scotch tape. Jimmy would take them; and, decided that others needed to share in his pain; even if it were forced. For whatever reason it was the man-boy couldn't remember he did know this. Today he would choose Gregory.
Today he would choose not be alone in his pain.
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