I enjoy looking at fashion magazines sometimes, but I only like a few of the pictures. I look for models that meet the criteria of my grooming rules, for instance, thick unplucked eyebrows, 'unibrows,' or very long hair. (Mustaches are unthinkable. When they do appear on runway fashion models, they're fake and they are part of an 'androgynous' theme, where the women are deliberately supposed to look like men, and it's not meant to be taken seriously, and it's not meant to look natural, and it's not meant to be a way that real women on the streets in the real world are ever going to look.)
You hardly ever see very long hair anywhere. But once in a while you see slightly long hair, such as hip length. Today I was looking at Vogue magazine, the big thick one with the Spring 2011 fashion shows in it.
I flipped through a bunch of pages and was ho-hum about most of it. But then I found Roberto Cavalli's page. Here is what I saw:
http://belarusianmodels.blogspot.com/2010/09/anabela-belikova-at-roberto-cavalli-ss.html
That's just a link to another blog, but that was the easiest web page to use to show the pictures. I also looked on the Vogue website under Roberto Cavalli, but it was hard for my browser to look at the page. They're there too, under Spring 2011.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that all of these models have slightly longish hair. It's so unusual that I wondered if they had extensions added to their hair, if it wasn't their real hair. I'm still not sure if it's real.
There are web pages devoted to very long hair, and those websites would understand me when I scoff at the shortness of waist-length hair. Waist-length hair is 'too short' by my standards, and I see it as 'off to a good start, but still has a long way to go.' Still, waist-length hair is very rare in the fashion industry.
I also liked the stringy fringes on the clothing. I like fur, and the strings resemble fur. They almost look like mermaids draped in wet fabric. The fringes would move and flow like water. It's also like a hair substitute. They don't have floor-length hair, but the fringes substitute for that. If they had very long hair, the hair would hang all over the place and dangle and move like those fringes do.
John William Waterhouse is a painter who loves long hair. http://www.jwwaterhouse.com/paintings/. However, none of his models have any armpit hair or pubic hair, and that's confusing to me, because I've read from other sources that they believe female body shaving only began recently, in about the twentieth century, and those paintings are older than that. Maybe 'normal people' didn't shave until recently. But models might have shaved when they were having their portraits painted. Maybe most people didn't.
Female shaving supposedly began (according to the sources I've read, which I would have to look up again to find them) because razor companies started looking for a way to sell more razors, so they artificially created the idea that women ought to be ashamed of their body hair. Before that, nobody cared, but all of a sudden, the advertisements started brainwashing everyone to believe that they have to spend their money and buy razors.
Long hair is kind of the same way. If you do nothing at all to your hair, you aren't spending any money on beauty products. The beauty products manufacturers want you to keep your hair around shoulder-length because it's 'more versatile for styling.' You can use hair sprays, mousse, gel, de-frizzers, and anything else, but only if your hair is short and layered. If your hair is very long, you don't style it. So the magazines and televisions sell you the image of a short-haired woman ('short' being defined as shoulder length or upper back length, which is the length that almost everyone has) so that you will buy styling products. It's not because short hair is objectively better than long hair. It's because it's easier to use styling products and 'do stuff' to your hair when it's short. It's because we watch television a lot, and all of it is meant to advertise something.
There is one way that short hair is better than long hair: it's physically safer. Short hair is less likely to get tangled in a piece of machinery or something. You could die if your very long hair got tangled in something. Other than that, short hair is mostly just something that the styling product companies want you to have.
Anyway that was my pleasant surprise for the day. I actually liked the way all of those pictures looked in the Vogue magazine on that particular guy's collection, Roberto Cavalli.
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Monday, August 23, 2010
a handwritten note; dreams; random topics; electronic harassment - ultrasonic attacks
8:42 PM 8/23/10
curtis - no phone, nickname, note, dream
new tables?
watching movies - a substitute for socializing
feeling optimistic, which means sjw exposure
not trying to do online dating now
flat tire
new refrigerator
dreadlocks progress
I'm not sure if I have enough mental focus to write a blog today. I have a few different things to say. I could tell the dreams first. The dreams are always fun to write about. There were a couple of sexual dreams. This happened because I gave Curtis a handwritten note. I told him that I had texted him a bunch of times the other day. He was shocked and surprised. He didn't get any of them, and he didn't get the voice mail message I left either. 'Maybe they shut my phone off already,' he said, as though he had been using it up till now and thought it was okay. His phone is being shut off temporarily because he didn't pay the bill this month. He hasn't worked enough hours to make enough money. So that was why I decided to give him a handwritten note. He told me he also doesn't have internet right now, so he's not getting his emails.
I gave him a note which didn't ask him to *do* anything specific. I told him, 'Humor me,' and handed him the note. 'Don't worry about it - it's just a reminder,' I said. In the note, I summed up all of the things which I've said to him again and again, many times, in various notes and text messages and emails that he hasn't gotten. The note's theme was, 'I always say the same things.' I always tell him that someone's blocking my emails and phone calls, so I worry about how I will reach him if he, or I, leave our jobs for any reason. I always tell him that I want to be friends with him away from work, and that I'd like to be friends with him a long time, not just temporarily. Sometimes I tell him that I love him and that I want to touch him but I don't want to make him uncomfortable.
Later that day - after he probably read the note - I walked past him, while he was standing with a bunch of people, and he was watching me with big, big, wide eyes. I don't know whether that emotion was fear, excitement, shock, or whatever, he was just wide-eyed. That is something I love about him, how his face, and his whole body, express his feelings in a dramatic, visible, obvious way.
He has always responded positively to my notes and to my touch. He keeps coming back and calling me pet names. He doesn't avoid me or act grossed out. In fact, several times when I've given him notes in the past, the name-calling started happening even more than ever before. I looked at his girlfriend, and I decided, yes, I'm ugly, but she's ugly too, and he's marrying her. So he's able to tolerate ugly girls.
Well, since I gave him that note, I had dreams that night. In the first dream, I was kissing a very little boy, a prepubescent child. I didn't expect to kiss him. I was just leaning over close to him and he started kissing me, if I remember correctly. Then he started rubbing against me and he had an orgasm. It was sort of unrealistic. He ejaculated a clear liquid and it sprayed up between us. Then a voice said, 'You didn't expect him to get hard.'
Then there was another dream the next day, in the morning sometime. This was a 'symbolic' dream that the voices explained to me after they woke me up. It's complicated, so I'll just tell what happened and then explain the symbolic interpretation. My ex-boyfriend Eric and I went over to 'John's' house (my brother). We were playing video games on his computer because I had a problem with my own computer at home. It was a role-playing game, something like dungeons and dragons. The character in the game was controlling an animal using magic. I couldn't tell what the animal was, from the image, but the voices told me it was a goat. It was standing up on legs and walking, so it didn't look like a normal goat - it must have been an anthropomorphic goat. That's when they woke me up, and then they proudly explained to me the interpretation of their dream.
John (my brother) = I moved into John's apartment because I was kicked out of my parents' house, so John = Carrie, Curtis's girlfriend, because Curtis moved into her house after getting kicked out of his parents' house. John represents Carrie.
Eric represents me. Eric was my 'older' boyfriend. Now I'm the older one.
I was Curtis in the dream.
(Yes, every person was somebody other than themselves, in a different role.)
We were playing a 'role playing game.' Every person was in a new role this time. The game was a sexual game, and the animal was a goat - the goat represents a penis. I had to use this computer at my brother's house, without asking his permission, because I had a computer problem at home - they told me that I would be on Curtis and Carrie's bed (the 'computer'), without Carrie's permission, instead of my own bed, because I don't really have a bed here at my apartment. And we were afraid that 'John' (Carrie) would find out that we were using this 'computer' (the bed) to play 'role-playing games' on. And the voices got even more complicated with their explanation, saying that I was controlling the goat without touching it, by magic. I'm not sure what that meant. I couldn't see what the video game character was doing to magically control the goat, because that's when they woke me up.
It's complicated when I look at what I've written. My brother John was Carrie; I was Curtis; my older-than-me ex-boyfriend Eric was me.
Those dreams weren't quite as cute as the furry black bull dream, but they were okay.
********
I can't stand to do online dating right now. There is this inhibition stopping me.
*******
My life seems to go nowhere, because the attackers constantly prevent me from thinking. I could meditate and get a perspective on my situation and quickly decide what is the best thing to do, and then do it. But I can't do that. I get zapped every time I think. They were doing it the other day, and if it were possible to kill them, I would have done it that day. I was trying to think about finding a REAL husband, not a young guy who's extremely attractive but can't be reached and already has another girlfriend that he'll be marrying. They kept forcing me to fall asleep *EVERY TIME* I tried to think about the real husband. Curtis isn't going to be my husband. He is someone else's husband. The most I could be is an extramarital affair, if that.
****
The nickname: He must have received the BAD text message (but not the good ones), because he acted like he'd gotten the message that I had sent him, telling him not to call me that name anymore. Then again, it might have also been because he called me the name in front of Stan, and I responded by acting hurt and then saying, in a slightly angry voice, 'Yeah, THAT'S ME,' and then walking away. Anyway, he either got the text message or he didn't. Regardless, he changed what he was doing. He started calling EVERYONE the nickname, at least the adjective part of it. (I wrote a blog a week or two ago saying, pretend the nickname was 'my fair-skinned beauty,' and he started calling everyone 'fair-skinned'. It's like that. It's an unusual adjective that you wouldn't use in an everyday sentence.)
He saw me walk into the back room, where I went to write a department transfer, and he was drunk on Dayquil that day, since he had a bad cold. (It was so bad, he went to the hospital the next day. I don't know how exactly he was sick, or why he needed to go to the hospital, but he did, and he said they gave him two shots, in his butt. He was limping the next day. What kind of shots do they give someone who has a cold? I hate mainstream medicine and its placebos.) So he was acting even more talkative and friendly than usual, being drunk on Dayquil, and when I went back to do the transfer, he said, 'Is that my fair-skinned.... Orry? I thought you were fair-skinned Orry.' (Yes, I'm substituting the adjective.) I said, 'Yeah, he's about the same size as me.' (Orry is short and small, but I don't find him attractive merely because of that. He's not a competitor. I'm not helplessly attracted to *ALL* small guys.)
So whatever I did, I got him to start calling everybody the adjective. He might possibly not need to do that anymore. We sat together and talked a bit one day - I already wrote about that. Then he sat next to me again when I was on my lunch break and getting ready to go back in, and I stayed out there five minutes later than I was supposed to, because I decided that spending five extra minutes with him was more important than getting back to work on time. He is still being friendly to me, after all of this. He still acts trusting instead of afraid or 'weirded out.'
I'm not being extremely aggressive or pushy. I'm not putting deadlines on it. I'm not directly asking him to go out with me at a specific time. ('Go out' is the wrong phrase to use. I don't want to 'go out' with him. I want to spend time together with him, doing anything at all.) I'm just reminding him that I exist and that I care about him and that I want to continue being his friend even though I can't reliably get emails or text messages or phone calls to him.
*******
I had an extremely flat tire today. I had noticed it was getting flatter over the past few weeks. Today I checked it. It's supposed to be 32 psi. It was 10! It was 1/3 of the pressure it was supposed to be. It was so flat, the sides were bulging out at the bottom. I'm lucky to be alive. It could have failed while I was driving down the highway and I would have gone straight into the oncoming lane. I refilled it, and I will keep an eye on it. If it keeps getting flat, I will have to get a new tire or something.
New refrigerator? I was talking to the maintenance guy today. He mentioned that an energy efficiency inspector would be coming over, and that we were all going to get new refrigerators for all the apartments, no matter what. That's nice for me, because I still don't feel safe using the fridge after the bone marrow vapors. There's just a tiny bit left, and I don't want to ruin any food or drinks I put in there.
Dreadlocks: I started the no-shampoo experiment in January, 2009. I wrote about it in this blog. My hair gradually formed natural dreadlocks. In the beginning, I had a couple of badly formed monster locks that were too big and in a bad position. They were pulling the hair in a bad way, and it hurt, and it was hard to lie down on that part of my head when I slept. Now, they have gradually moved and mellowed out a little bit, and they're not really pulling anymore. Some of the roots connected to the monster locks have fallen out, so that the lock isn't connected to as many roots as it was in the beginning. The locks are moving to different positions on the scalp, instead of staying in just one place. But I still have a bald spot on the right top side, where there is hardly any hair, and a big empty space in between the locks. It's not 'bald,' it's just thin.
Tables: I got rid of my tables that I had at the other apartment, because they were contaminated along with everything else. I am thinking of getting new ones and putting cardboard on them (so that it's easy to clean up if they get contaminated again), and under them, so that I can set up my computer table and use it more easily to do computer projects and anything else.
Curtis said he's been watching a lot of movies, since he's disconnected from cable TV right now. I've been watching movies too. I rented Twilight - New Moon, and watched it again, and it didn't suck as much, now that I understand what's going on, and now that I've seen the first movie and read some of the first book. Movies are my substitute for socializing. I am not spending time with real people. I am watching imaginary people without having to interact with them, and they're pretty to look at, and people have a real need to look at beautiful people. I think it's natural to need to see beautiful people. That's why I'm interested in Weston Price's studies of the primitive diets and the facial deformities that make us ugly. We don't have to be ugly. An ugly person can have beautiful children if they use the diet. That is what I am hoping to do.
I think I'll post this now.
The murderers are enraging me while I wait for this blog page to load. I have been hit with St. John's Wort recently and so they are able to trigger rage. My elbow is leaning on the cardboard box where my computer keyboard is, and the murderers are shooting sonic bullets, or whatever it is that they use, to slowly make the computer keyboard slip downwards under my elbow, a fraction of a millimeter at a time, over and over, while triggering the feeling of rage. I don't know why they do the slips. It makes me want to kill them. AJH at tiworld.blogspot.com knows about this. He has the same thing happen. Clicking, snapping noises on objects near me, and my body parts 'slipping' down against a surface, without moving at all, or slowly moving, when there is, in reality, enough friction to hold them still, and they shouldn't be moving, and when it slips, it emits an extremely high-pitched, painful noise above the level of human hearing, but it's audible enough to cause me physical pain, and rage. I usually hear voices at the same moment that it slips, or just afterwards. It's like the sonic bullets are being used to 'deliver' the voices. Sometimes I think the sonic bullets are taking snapshots of an image, the image of me sitting here. Sometimes when they do this, I punch something and hurt my hand. I try not to do that, and it mostly happens if I'm having a St. John's Wort reaction.
curtis - no phone, nickname, note, dream
new tables?
watching movies - a substitute for socializing
feeling optimistic, which means sjw exposure
not trying to do online dating now
flat tire
new refrigerator
dreadlocks progress
I'm not sure if I have enough mental focus to write a blog today. I have a few different things to say. I could tell the dreams first. The dreams are always fun to write about. There were a couple of sexual dreams. This happened because I gave Curtis a handwritten note. I told him that I had texted him a bunch of times the other day. He was shocked and surprised. He didn't get any of them, and he didn't get the voice mail message I left either. 'Maybe they shut my phone off already,' he said, as though he had been using it up till now and thought it was okay. His phone is being shut off temporarily because he didn't pay the bill this month. He hasn't worked enough hours to make enough money. So that was why I decided to give him a handwritten note. He told me he also doesn't have internet right now, so he's not getting his emails.
I gave him a note which didn't ask him to *do* anything specific. I told him, 'Humor me,' and handed him the note. 'Don't worry about it - it's just a reminder,' I said. In the note, I summed up all of the things which I've said to him again and again, many times, in various notes and text messages and emails that he hasn't gotten. The note's theme was, 'I always say the same things.' I always tell him that someone's blocking my emails and phone calls, so I worry about how I will reach him if he, or I, leave our jobs for any reason. I always tell him that I want to be friends with him away from work, and that I'd like to be friends with him a long time, not just temporarily. Sometimes I tell him that I love him and that I want to touch him but I don't want to make him uncomfortable.
Later that day - after he probably read the note - I walked past him, while he was standing with a bunch of people, and he was watching me with big, big, wide eyes. I don't know whether that emotion was fear, excitement, shock, or whatever, he was just wide-eyed. That is something I love about him, how his face, and his whole body, express his feelings in a dramatic, visible, obvious way.
He has always responded positively to my notes and to my touch. He keeps coming back and calling me pet names. He doesn't avoid me or act grossed out. In fact, several times when I've given him notes in the past, the name-calling started happening even more than ever before. I looked at his girlfriend, and I decided, yes, I'm ugly, but she's ugly too, and he's marrying her. So he's able to tolerate ugly girls.
Well, since I gave him that note, I had dreams that night. In the first dream, I was kissing a very little boy, a prepubescent child. I didn't expect to kiss him. I was just leaning over close to him and he started kissing me, if I remember correctly. Then he started rubbing against me and he had an orgasm. It was sort of unrealistic. He ejaculated a clear liquid and it sprayed up between us. Then a voice said, 'You didn't expect him to get hard.'
Then there was another dream the next day, in the morning sometime. This was a 'symbolic' dream that the voices explained to me after they woke me up. It's complicated, so I'll just tell what happened and then explain the symbolic interpretation. My ex-boyfriend Eric and I went over to 'John's' house (my brother). We were playing video games on his computer because I had a problem with my own computer at home. It was a role-playing game, something like dungeons and dragons. The character in the game was controlling an animal using magic. I couldn't tell what the animal was, from the image, but the voices told me it was a goat. It was standing up on legs and walking, so it didn't look like a normal goat - it must have been an anthropomorphic goat. That's when they woke me up, and then they proudly explained to me the interpretation of their dream.
John (my brother) = I moved into John's apartment because I was kicked out of my parents' house, so John = Carrie, Curtis's girlfriend, because Curtis moved into her house after getting kicked out of his parents' house. John represents Carrie.
Eric represents me. Eric was my 'older' boyfriend. Now I'm the older one.
I was Curtis in the dream.
(Yes, every person was somebody other than themselves, in a different role.)
We were playing a 'role playing game.' Every person was in a new role this time. The game was a sexual game, and the animal was a goat - the goat represents a penis. I had to use this computer at my brother's house, without asking his permission, because I had a computer problem at home - they told me that I would be on Curtis and Carrie's bed (the 'computer'), without Carrie's permission, instead of my own bed, because I don't really have a bed here at my apartment. And we were afraid that 'John' (Carrie) would find out that we were using this 'computer' (the bed) to play 'role-playing games' on. And the voices got even more complicated with their explanation, saying that I was controlling the goat without touching it, by magic. I'm not sure what that meant. I couldn't see what the video game character was doing to magically control the goat, because that's when they woke me up.
It's complicated when I look at what I've written. My brother John was Carrie; I was Curtis; my older-than-me ex-boyfriend Eric was me.
Those dreams weren't quite as cute as the furry black bull dream, but they were okay.
********
I can't stand to do online dating right now. There is this inhibition stopping me.
*******
My life seems to go nowhere, because the attackers constantly prevent me from thinking. I could meditate and get a perspective on my situation and quickly decide what is the best thing to do, and then do it. But I can't do that. I get zapped every time I think. They were doing it the other day, and if it were possible to kill them, I would have done it that day. I was trying to think about finding a REAL husband, not a young guy who's extremely attractive but can't be reached and already has another girlfriend that he'll be marrying. They kept forcing me to fall asleep *EVERY TIME* I tried to think about the real husband. Curtis isn't going to be my husband. He is someone else's husband. The most I could be is an extramarital affair, if that.
****
The nickname: He must have received the BAD text message (but not the good ones), because he acted like he'd gotten the message that I had sent him, telling him not to call me that name anymore. Then again, it might have also been because he called me the name in front of Stan, and I responded by acting hurt and then saying, in a slightly angry voice, 'Yeah, THAT'S ME,' and then walking away. Anyway, he either got the text message or he didn't. Regardless, he changed what he was doing. He started calling EVERYONE the nickname, at least the adjective part of it. (I wrote a blog a week or two ago saying, pretend the nickname was 'my fair-skinned beauty,' and he started calling everyone 'fair-skinned'. It's like that. It's an unusual adjective that you wouldn't use in an everyday sentence.)
He saw me walk into the back room, where I went to write a department transfer, and he was drunk on Dayquil that day, since he had a bad cold. (It was so bad, he went to the hospital the next day. I don't know how exactly he was sick, or why he needed to go to the hospital, but he did, and he said they gave him two shots, in his butt. He was limping the next day. What kind of shots do they give someone who has a cold? I hate mainstream medicine and its placebos.) So he was acting even more talkative and friendly than usual, being drunk on Dayquil, and when I went back to do the transfer, he said, 'Is that my fair-skinned.... Orry? I thought you were fair-skinned Orry.' (Yes, I'm substituting the adjective.) I said, 'Yeah, he's about the same size as me.' (Orry is short and small, but I don't find him attractive merely because of that. He's not a competitor. I'm not helplessly attracted to *ALL* small guys.)
So whatever I did, I got him to start calling everybody the adjective. He might possibly not need to do that anymore. We sat together and talked a bit one day - I already wrote about that. Then he sat next to me again when I was on my lunch break and getting ready to go back in, and I stayed out there five minutes later than I was supposed to, because I decided that spending five extra minutes with him was more important than getting back to work on time. He is still being friendly to me, after all of this. He still acts trusting instead of afraid or 'weirded out.'
I'm not being extremely aggressive or pushy. I'm not putting deadlines on it. I'm not directly asking him to go out with me at a specific time. ('Go out' is the wrong phrase to use. I don't want to 'go out' with him. I want to spend time together with him, doing anything at all.) I'm just reminding him that I exist and that I care about him and that I want to continue being his friend even though I can't reliably get emails or text messages or phone calls to him.
*******
I had an extremely flat tire today. I had noticed it was getting flatter over the past few weeks. Today I checked it. It's supposed to be 32 psi. It was 10! It was 1/3 of the pressure it was supposed to be. It was so flat, the sides were bulging out at the bottom. I'm lucky to be alive. It could have failed while I was driving down the highway and I would have gone straight into the oncoming lane. I refilled it, and I will keep an eye on it. If it keeps getting flat, I will have to get a new tire or something.
New refrigerator? I was talking to the maintenance guy today. He mentioned that an energy efficiency inspector would be coming over, and that we were all going to get new refrigerators for all the apartments, no matter what. That's nice for me, because I still don't feel safe using the fridge after the bone marrow vapors. There's just a tiny bit left, and I don't want to ruin any food or drinks I put in there.
Dreadlocks: I started the no-shampoo experiment in January, 2009. I wrote about it in this blog. My hair gradually formed natural dreadlocks. In the beginning, I had a couple of badly formed monster locks that were too big and in a bad position. They were pulling the hair in a bad way, and it hurt, and it was hard to lie down on that part of my head when I slept. Now, they have gradually moved and mellowed out a little bit, and they're not really pulling anymore. Some of the roots connected to the monster locks have fallen out, so that the lock isn't connected to as many roots as it was in the beginning. The locks are moving to different positions on the scalp, instead of staying in just one place. But I still have a bald spot on the right top side, where there is hardly any hair, and a big empty space in between the locks. It's not 'bald,' it's just thin.
Tables: I got rid of my tables that I had at the other apartment, because they were contaminated along with everything else. I am thinking of getting new ones and putting cardboard on them (so that it's easy to clean up if they get contaminated again), and under them, so that I can set up my computer table and use it more easily to do computer projects and anything else.
Curtis said he's been watching a lot of movies, since he's disconnected from cable TV right now. I've been watching movies too. I rented Twilight - New Moon, and watched it again, and it didn't suck as much, now that I understand what's going on, and now that I've seen the first movie and read some of the first book. Movies are my substitute for socializing. I am not spending time with real people. I am watching imaginary people without having to interact with them, and they're pretty to look at, and people have a real need to look at beautiful people. I think it's natural to need to see beautiful people. That's why I'm interested in Weston Price's studies of the primitive diets and the facial deformities that make us ugly. We don't have to be ugly. An ugly person can have beautiful children if they use the diet. That is what I am hoping to do.
I think I'll post this now.
The murderers are enraging me while I wait for this blog page to load. I have been hit with St. John's Wort recently and so they are able to trigger rage. My elbow is leaning on the cardboard box where my computer keyboard is, and the murderers are shooting sonic bullets, or whatever it is that they use, to slowly make the computer keyboard slip downwards under my elbow, a fraction of a millimeter at a time, over and over, while triggering the feeling of rage. I don't know why they do the slips. It makes me want to kill them. AJH at tiworld.blogspot.com knows about this. He has the same thing happen. Clicking, snapping noises on objects near me, and my body parts 'slipping' down against a surface, without moving at all, or slowly moving, when there is, in reality, enough friction to hold them still, and they shouldn't be moving, and when it slips, it emits an extremely high-pitched, painful noise above the level of human hearing, but it's audible enough to cause me physical pain, and rage. I usually hear voices at the same moment that it slips, or just afterwards. It's like the sonic bullets are being used to 'deliver' the voices. Sometimes I think the sonic bullets are taking snapshots of an image, the image of me sitting here. Sometimes when they do this, I punch something and hurt my hand. I try not to do that, and it mostly happens if I'm having a St. John's Wort reaction.
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