_________________________________________________________________________________

IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOU’D BE HOMELESS NOW!

I'm not selling anything, and there's no way to send me money.

I'm real.

 And I live naked in a cave in the woods.

I'm also a wretched autistic-savant mutant, damned by God and doomed by Man to understand everything and control nothing.



Nice t' meet ya.

I walked off my nuc engineering job because there are only 3 kinds of people in the world: evil, retarded, and ME

...uhhh, and you. ☻

Okay, okay; my "cave" is a tent.  What, like, EVER.  But it certainly feels like a cave in here.  A warm, safe one, too! 

Long ago and far away Faye

Click any of these pix for huge.

BTW, before you read more, a word about words: My horrible mom was a "woman", but I'm a "girl".  It's who I was as a kid, and nothing's changed.

You can completely forget "lady"!

And I call it a "cunt" because it emphasizes the disorienting, deeply mystical, awesome, shocking thing it's used for.  By men. 

I was simultaneously ashamed of and terrified by sex until my religious-like revelation in 2002.

I reeeeally dislike grownups—"grups", as Mira called them.  "Old person" is a horrible, debilitating, terminal disease similar to rabies that all kids eventually catch, like chicken pox.

Except me.  I seem to be immune, like Richard Feynman. And I have no idea why.

It probably has to do with being autistic, the main symptom of which is  "emotional retardation", but I really don't care why I am like I am.  All I know is that I watched people I know get married and stop having fun.  Apparently, as soon as you get married, sex stops being thrilling! and exciting!, and becomes some kind of icky medical problem.  Then in the next two or three decades, the tragic victims get older and colder and meaner and sad. Then around 50, they emerge from their bewildered chrysalis as angry, ugly, evil monsters.  Their main purpose becomes starting wars, hoarding currency, and preventing excited, optimistic teenagers from having sex. 

Ultimately, old people get even uglier and slower until they stop moving, fall over, and rot.  Then they wander around biting happy young people, just to make them sad.

When I was little, I actually believed that part about old people becoming evil zombies on a mindless mission of killing happiness.

I still do.

See, zombies are the ultimate grownups.

But you didn't cum here for that.  You came here for THIS:

Angry, brutal rape is the essence of being male,
and liking it is the essence of being female.
Don't like it?  TOUGH TITTIES!

Okay, no problem.  I learned not to expect anyone to be interested in my... peculiar opinions, but only my naked body.

I display my tits, my cunt, and my tight little pink female ASS HOLE for free,  to complete strangers on the internet because it makes me feel dirty and cheap and naughty vulgar and rude and submissive and embarrassed and sexy and happy and human; instead of like a  broken robot, which is what I feel like whenever I'm around you arbitrary, fearful, judgmental, violent, childish, greedy, dishonest, sneaky, shitty, guilt-driven, human creatures.

_______________________

Fucking isn't even remotely similar to ANYTHING else we do.  It's mysterious, deep, frightening, magical, and Beyond Infinity.  It connects us directly with life and death and eternity.  It's the ONLY reason we live.

...And die.

BTW, Kubrick's 2001 was about discovering puberty, the attempt to hide it from one's self, and the two ways to deal with it (The Frank Poole way and the Dave Bowman way).  The Monolith on the moon was first masturbation and Jupiter was "the female".

Being tied to the furniture in a stranger's basement nonstop, being tortured and raped for three days was literally a religious revelation to me.  It made me remember who I really am.

And most of all, WHAT.

I didn't AWAYS live in a cave.

You guy geeks need to remember it too. Helping you do that is what this blog is about.

Until I WISED UP, I was too timid to talk to my coworkers.  it was bizarre.  But now  I have orgasms for complete strangers while staring at their picture if they order me to.  I talk to them, and rub off reading what they say they'll do to me if I'm found 'n bound 'n rammed 'n crammed 'n reamed 'n creemed.  I announced on this blog what bar I'd be in--and showed up.  None of you dorks did, but later, two of you FUCKED me.  I described all this as it happened.  Read my blog or ask the regulars.

Look, if living in a little hut in the woods was okay for Master Yoda, it's okay for  me, see?

The A/C vent is at the lower-right in the above pic of my Apollo capsule, next to the exit port for the urine-jettison subsystem.

...Okay, the piss funnel.  What, like, EVER.

You can tell how good the insulation is because the snow on my roof doesn't melt, yet I'm cozy and warm in here, even with no covers or clothes. 

Hi there!

"Kane" isn't my real name, but "Faye" is.  "Kane" is way to close for comfort, but too late to change.  I prefer to talk to smart guys, but like all girls, I prefer to be fucked by STUPID ones.  It's because they fuck for real, with feeling—unlike you dorky, timid, question-asking, hesitant, apologetic nerds.

See, stupid guys are ANIMALS, even though they don't believe it.  Geeks believe it but don't FEEL it.

HEY:

FEEL it.

Anyway, I borrowed a phone from Patty the Spherical Christian and made these two short tour vids of my cave.

I mainly do  two things in here:

A)  I learn topology stuff like hyperbolic Riemann spacetimes, and physics stuff like absorber theory.  I learn what's "behind the curtain" in quantum electrodynamics. I'm currently reading Brian Greene's book about why time is an illusion.  I even talked to him once!   Woh, HE  can fuck me ANY time!

Then again, so can anyone else.

Basically, I just want to understand WTF is going on around me because I'm completely clueless, and what's "around me" is the universe.  I watched Feynman's Australia lectures, which made me see the Big Picture.  My second major was astronomy, and I graduated with more than twice the math and computer credits required for a CS degree. 

B) I also rub the nub furiously to (only) real, genuine amateur bdsm vids while imagining it's me being sexually tortured and crying.  Safewords and kink.com are bullshit.  Even Mood Pictures is mechanical.

Both A and B are equally important.  But at any time, only ONE part of your mind can be in control: thinking or being, but never both at once.  

Which one should be in charge?  

The appropriate one for that situation. The other half of you evaporates for a while.  

Don't worry, it will always come back.  You won't lose control permanently if you slip away and  experience being an animal and feel your intelligence evaporate right before you like HAL 9000.

Sex and smart don't conflict; they compliment each other.


We'll talk more about this on the blog.

Anyway, I've got wireless broadband in here, and lots of comm equipment--most of which I found in dumpsters. (I find electronics and sell the stuff on eBay).

I've got municipal band, UHF/directional, shortwave, FM, 2.4 GHz, AM, and HDTV antennas sticking out of my roof. 

If I were one of those schizophrenic homeless people, I'd think I was in a CIA listening post!

SPECIAL BONUS FOR MURDER-RAPISTS: 

Find the microdot in this image for the GPS coordinates of my location:

SPECIAL BONUS FOR OBSESSED STALKERS (of which there have been several):
The above pic also contains a very graphic pornographic steganographic!

I read a lot in here:

SIDE NOTE SINCE SOME OF YOU GUYS ACTUALLY SPENT A LOT OF TIME LOOKING FOR MICRODOTS:
It's a JOKE, see?  The "funny" being that there can be no microdots in a digital picture.  

I guess it's "idiot savant" humor.

Oh well.  'Nother example of why I live in a cave.

Anyway, this is where I lay on my bare, indolent ass 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for over three years (as of April 2008). I put clothes on about twice a month when I go for supplies. At an average masturbation rate of about 10/day, I've fired off about several thousand orgasms, right here.  And every one of them was glorious.  

NOTE from a year later: that high nubbin-rubbin' frequency was only during my six-month experiment slathering myself daily in testosterone gel and never washing it off, to see what it's like to be as horny as a man.

My ass FOUND OUT, too!  I walk through the woods naked anyway, because it makes me feel vulnerable and sexy.  I like being scraped by the branches and I like the danger of being seen and (hopefully) raped. And I lay on my back and feel the prickly pointed stuff hurt my back and my ass, and I open my legs wide and close my eyes and pretend I was told to by a stranger who found me, pushed me down, and said "offer me your cunt, bitch".   Then I masturbate.

But during my testosterone experiment, I could bare-ly keep myself from going down on the shoulder of the interstate and doing it with my cunt on display and aimed at the cars.  I actually even did it one night, but managed to stay low in the high grass.  There's a blog item about that, too.

You may have observed that I'm very hung up on and obsessed with sex.  Blame my mom.  She's in hell now, but she infected me with her hypocritical, moralistic, pious, arrogant, fucked up propaganda when I was young enough to fall for it, and now it's so embedded that I will NEVER be free, no matter WHAT perverted stuff I do.

But I think I can make some you YOU guys free, maybe, with this blog.  In fact,that's why I do it.

I have a more personal reason for doing this, too.  I like nubbin-rubbin' while thinking of guys using my naked pictures to yank off with.  It makes me feel deliciously humiliated, dehumanized, and used. That's as close as I can come to having sex without feeling ashamed and guilty of something.  Hopefully, sometimes a reader and I do it at the same time. I wish I could know for sure, though.  

I do the blog as shock therapy, to help you worthless dorks not be afraid of people like me (ones with an extra X chromosome).  Hopefully, you won't make the same stupid, tragically unnecessary, wrong decisions I did and end up homeless and alone and frightened, too.
 
Since almost all geeks are guys, I orient the blog towards y'all.  Unless they're really fat, smart girls can always get dick and (ugh) "love", if they want it.  Even "ugly" doesn't matter much.  And since cute chicks are pursued, we have no fear of rejection, so most smart girls aren't all goofy and shy like you and I are.  I am anyway, unfortunately.    BTW, on serious forums I use my real last name.  Sometimes I used a "guy" name to avoid the guys being distracted, but it's been a decade since you heard "tits or GTFO" over and over and over.

MINI-FAQ 'N FAN MALE:

> how do you afford food and stuff?

Well at first I lived off my savings, which were destroyed in 2000.  Then I worked doing database programming for an asshole over the internet. But now I find electronics in the dumpster and sell it on eBay. You'd be surprised how much you can make doing that! And money goes far when all you have to buy is food and cases of bottled water.

The dumpster is next to a public storage place in the richest county in America, and when someone doesn't pay their bill, they keep the TVs and stuff they can sell immediately,  but they junk anything in sealed cardboard boxes or that they don't recognize, like (to name just a few) three brand new new $700 digitizing tablets, a broadcast-studio time-base corrector, 16 cases of gourmet coffee, and more cases of copier toner --- all of which I sold for big $$. A very nice older lady named Patty lets me use her mailing address.

I'm not rich, but I have everything I need -- which is my definition of "rich."   "To each according to his needs", and stuff.

Waiting patiently while the guy gets his dick hard so he can rape me.
I like it when they stare at me and yank off to get aroused; it makes me feel like a piece of meat. 

Sexy, naked FEMALE meat that's physically *desired*.  When that happens, I'm AN ANIMAL, and not a bumbling, pedantic, geeky, timid, autistic broken robot like I always am.

Nobody wants broken robots.  They DO want naked girls though!

No, I don't have everything I want, which is really just understanding WTF is going on.  But that level of understanding stuff requires knowing a lot more than I do about condensed matter, complex tangent bundles, Riemann tensors, quantum chromodynamics, hyperbolic spacetimes, lines with negative lengths, and higher-dimensional Anti DeSitter spaces.

...Well, okay, I guess tensors 'n tangents are easy (and obvious, if you visualize them), but there's a lot more other stuff that I DON'T know.  I understand the universe about as well as my cat.  Probably less, since Mister Kitty seems a whole lot happier.
 

I moved in with some of you guys once, and my rent in the group house was being the cook, maid, accountant, laundry do-er, and fuck doll.  
I wasn't allowed to wear any clothes, ever.

The guys called me into their rooms and did whatever they wanted to me.  They used my naked body on the hall floor, kitchen floor, after enema-ing me in the bathroom... anywhere.

I like it when men deposit their cum directly into my womb and deep up inside my ass.  I hope that someday, a man signs his name on my hairy vulva with a soldering iron.  That's how I know I'm married to him.

     

I invented this thumbtack pin-prick device ...with emphasis on the "prick"!

Now men can hurt my sex organ when they're angry and thrust harder and faster.   And when they cum, it pierces my hairy vulva particularly deep while I accept his sperm and suffer.  It pierces my ass hole when he fucks me there... GOD!!

But It turns out that the tacks aren't  long enough to hurt much. They barely break my skin, if at all.  Version 2.0 will have long carpet tacks and use rubber spacers for adjustable pierce-depth.

> How do you get electricity?

I hacked the power grid. Sounds real techno-cool, but I only just ran a cable to a 250 volt highway-sign junction box and jacked in. Yes it is locked, but there's a right-angle adapter which is closed just with screws. I stripped the wires inside using a knife with two rolls of electrical rubber tape around the handle.  In retrospect, that was REAL dangerous.   

To test if it was live, I tossed a metal gum wrapper between the wires to see if it sparked.  But it didn't spark, it EXPLODED. The ephemeral gum wrapper detonated like a bomb, and was so bright that I couldn't hear for a few seconds or see directly in front of me for a while even though it was daylight.

How did I drop a 250 volt feed to 125 without a transformer?  Jedi magic!  I'm a mutant like the X-men, and my "power" is understanding stuff.  I'd rather be indestructible or fly or shoot ionized plasma from my eyes, but WTF.  I'm just glad I'm not the Elephant Man.

...So class, can anyone tell Miss Kane how she halved the dangerous voltage?  Anyone?  Beuller?  

Here's a hint: it was to Faye's power.


...Okay, okay; you guys keep asking me how, so here:  It was two-phase power.  See, a 250-volt wire pair is just two 125-volt wires 180º out of phase, so they're only 250 volts relative to each other.  I clamped one extension-cord wire to one of the ones I stripped.  Then I clamped the other extension-cord wire, not to the other hot wire, but to the grounded metal case.  125 volts!  Yaay!  When I saw that on the meter, I thought "y'know, sometimes I reeeally like my life!".

I hadn't said that since college--where I said it frequently.  Life outside the Holy Math and Physics Sanctuary Where All the Kids Fuck has been an unendurable nightmare.


I can't take a picture of my elegant power hack / ugly kludge to prove it (which people have angrily demanded as "proof" that I'm me), because that picture would DEFINITELY identify my EXACT location to Dominion Power when they saw the markings on the box and the pole. 

I had to run the ground line all the way to my cave because grounding it at the cave didn't work, even though grounding to the metal box worked.  Can anyone tell Miss Kane why?  

Anyone?  Beuller?  

Hint: it's the opposite of a ground loop. BTW, avoiding them was why I designed a neutron-damage monitor with RS-422 signaling through 11 feet of reinforced concrete containment rather than using the simpler, more common RS-232.  Plus, it was a high-noise environment, and the gizmo had to be fail-safe in every conceivable emergency mode.

Chained to a bed, whipped, raped while I cried, and left like that by a cruel, uncaring man. 
 
It was PERFECT!
Sex is only good if you're desperately pleading and begging through your tears for him to stop hurting you.

How do you get internet?

I have a wireless internet connection I pay for. I used to hack internet access too (through a wireless repeater in the parking garage), but whoever owned the account either noticed that it was continually downloading very disturbing torture porn, or they just didn't pay their bill. Either way, I'm the only homeless bum in the woods with broadband internet.


I also have a small dorm refrigerator, electric grill, my few clothes (five black T-shirts, two black jeans, six black socks, and black leather shoes), my PC, my trash can (which I poop in), my teddy bear, and some other stuff in a small 'airlock' which isolates the tent door from the weather. You can't see it in the pics because it was winter and the inner airlock door is closed. The door is at the 'pillow' end of my bed. I have a color TV camera hidden outside so I can see if anyone's out there. Once, a pair of Spanish kids fucked right next to my cave and I took screen shots.  NOTE: link broken by fucked-up myspace censors.  I'll repost on blogger.

The question I get asked most often after "are you real" and "'can I fuck you" (the answers are "yes" and "yes"), is:

> If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?

Just as wars do not make one great, "smart" does not make one rich.   EVIL makes one rich.

> Yeah yeah, fuck the star-wars shit and answer my question.  Why the hell do you choose to be homeless when you're so SMART?

Okay.  But you asked for it:

1) Knowledge is not power.  (Truth isn't beauty, either, BTW.  And it doesn't set you free.)

2) I crave understanding things, but I'm not motivated to "acquire" stuff.  I'm not a Ferengi, even though they live in little huts, like me and Yoda.  

3) I'm scared to death to be around the god damn humans. They give me the creeps. They give me the willies. They give me the heebie-jeebies.  They all hate me, won't tell why, and deny it through clenched teeth.  It's probably because I don't give a shit about anything they think is important.  I dunno why, really. It's definitely not my imagination though.


4) Too much of this.  

5) Even when they're friendly, other people see me as strange, odd, weird, and peculiar, and I'm sick of it.  I don't like normal people.  I like geeks though.

6) I'm autistic and require literally NO face-to-face interaction. I can't imagine how it would feel to NEED to be around people, and I have absolutely no idea why normal people go crazy in solitary confinement. For me, it is a blessing.

Despite that, I talk to people all day and night on the internet. The people who read my blog and email me are my friends. They care about me and I care about them. Yes, I do other things: I work online, I learn stuff, I eat, I sleep, I masturbate, and I poop in the trash can. But what I do for most of my time is read emails and talk to the people who read my blog.

I got more reasons, too.

I only leave my little hidey-hole about twice a month. I usually take a cab back, unless Patty the Spherical Christian gives me a ride. I have no windows in here and when I look at my system tray clock, I don't know if it's AM or PM.  Nor either do I care.  Last winter, I didn't know that it snowed all day until I read it at washingtonpost.com. I certainly don't know when it's the weekend.

I like it like that.  It lets me pay attention to things that really are important.   Does anyone really know what time it is?

Gloria Steinham said "all sex is rape".   It's true, but she made it sound like a BAD thing!

 As you can imagine, I like Camille Paglia much, much better.  She's the only person in the world who would understand me.

Sometimes I'm happy.  But only if I take my medicines (Paxil, Wellbutrin, Trazodone, Adderall).

Sometimes mice and voles get in but I trap them (I hate to do it). I wouldn't, but they have parasites and rabies.  I am REALLY fearful of rabies because it's one of the things I understand a lot.  I had ants and roaches initially, but I dumped an acre's worth of lawn insect powder on the vortex perimeter (the edges of my tent). No more insects.  When it rained, the pile of insecticide outside my cave turned into a pile of toxic slop.
.
But in the larger sense, EVERYTHING outside my cave is a pile of toxic slop.

 
> How can you defend yourself if you have to?
 

I USED to have a Ruger .22 target pistol until my mom stole it because she was a Liberal and "doesn't like guns".  I'm so Liberal that I'm probably a communist, but I don't see what that has to do with guns--particularly .22 target pistols.  The only defense I have in here is a kitchen knife, a hatchet, and pepper spray; but I can't see myself using any of them if a guy comes in here.  Particularly if he's seething with the sexual anger and wants to rape me, which I think is the best sex theoretically (and probably even mathematically) possible.  I hope someday a stranger makes a really small branding iron and brands his initials on my cervix while I scream.

I also get this a lot: 

 
> congratulations on your home - looks like it took a lot of work & planning!  i get the power supply, i get the wireless net, but where do you get water?

Bottled, plus there's a hose bib that I use in the building adjacent to me. It is a parking garage, so nobody goes behind it. Plus, it's on a very steep hill (the top is flat),and you have to go through or over a barbed-wire fence.  A future project is to install running water in my cave.

> and if water's not your main beverage, what /do/ you drink?

Lemonade, from powder. I also use the beverage powders in MREs.  I bought beer once, but only to offer a rapist.  I'll pretend to be terrified, then say "psyyyyych!", offer a cold beer to the confused bastard, and then lie on my bed smiling, with my legs spread wide open-while verbally referring to him as a brutal, criminal rapist.   I bet THAT would freak him out!  Hahahah!

More autistic-savant humor.

Normal people don't think my jokes are funny,  but I don't understand theirs either. My humor usually involves irony, incongruity, juxtaposition,or outrageousness. ( I really did buy beer just for that, but it took up too much room in my teeny dorm fridge so now it's warm).  I probably should keep a single one cold for the rapist.  I also have a bottle of emergency Night Train (AKA throw-up wine) for myself in case someone comes in here and wants to talk to me instead of fuck me.  YOU nerds would actually do that. 


Being fucked is literally a religious revelation, every single time. And orgasm is becoming part of God, a part of evolution and the universe.  I hope I die being fucked.  Specifically, I hope I'm strangled while being raped by a stranger.  

 
> How much food do you buy on one trip outside?

Two weeks' worth. Other than that, I almost never go outside. There's nothing out there for me.  Groceries are heavily supplemented by MREs, which I buy mail order by the case, along with EXCELLENT canned beef and pork.  I mostly eat   MREs and fresh Italian sausages I grill with onions and five types of olives        —and  Peppadew sweet picante peppers!  WOH are they delicious!  I also eat a lot of really good imported cheese from Denmark, France and Germany.  "Good" means it has a strong odor and "great" means it smells like people's feet.  My fave is Stilton.  It tastes like a cross between bleu and Havarti.  I also like Limburger, which isn't like you see on Buggs Bunny cartoons. 

Like everything else in this worthless country, the cheese in America is fake and made of plastic.

And boy, do I love cheese! I make fondue from scratch (not the premade packs) from REAL Swiss Emmenthal, white wine (that I only use for cooking), and just a bit of cherry liquor (also for cooking). And LOTS of pepper!  And crunchy French bread from the French restaurant in Annandale.  I only drink alcohol when I'm around those human creatures, but then I drink heavily--mainly before I go food shopping.  I'm not addicted to drugs, though I tried heroin when I was in a homeless shelter and got Hep C from it.  

I'm Real Smart—a nightmare existence that sux dix—and officially crazy.  I was illegally committed to a mental hospital by my mom and her unethical shrink when she saw the welts and bruises and cigarette burns on my body after I let myself be tied to a bench in some guy's basement nonstop for a whole weekend so I could see what it was like to be a sex slave for real. I had no safeword and lay on my back, gagged and naked, with my legs forced apart for 2½ days nonstop.  

I knew I would be seriously tortured sexually by sadistic strangers until I was screaming and sobbing.  And I knew I would be gang-raped continuously for almost three days, with no food, almost no water, and I had to sleep tied to the bench with a wood pole pushed so far into my ass that I'm very sure it was dangerous.  I was afraid I'd move during the three or four hours I slept, pierce my intestine, and either bleed to death or die of peritonitis.  But I think that was impossible because I couldn't move my waist at all since it was held down tightly by its own rope. 

So what was it like, being tortured and raped like in the true crime books?  WONDERFUL.  MAGICAL!  The best thing that ever happened in my life. it was literally a religious experience.  In retrospect, I wish they had kept me awake for all three days by continually fucking me, but there were nowhere near that many guys. Only one or two would come at a time and mostly I just stared up at the light bulb.   I used a LOT of KY that weekend.  i brought three tubes and Diana had to buy more on Saturday.

I wrote a detailed description of how it came about (basically, my friend's husband did that to her in the same basement and I asked if he'd do it to me).  I wrote down everything that happened and my feelings about it so I wouldn't forget and can use it as nubbin-rubbin' fuel, even when I'm 80.  You can read it HERE.  And yes,  it's really a true story.  Surprise!  Someone on the internet really is THAT crazy.

The last straw before abandoning so-called "humanity" and moving in here was the Tuesday after that, when I excitedly pulled up my shirt and proudly showed the two purple, cut, cigarette-burned ellipsoids on my chest to someone (a girl) at work who I thought was my friend. 

I'm not very good at predicting emotional responses in humans. 

She told everyone else, and their reactions were HORRIBLE.  Though, true to form, nobody actually said anything about it to me.

I just walked out and never came back. Nor did I try to find a job.  That was the last straw.
  

> if being tortured for three days was that good, why don't you do it again?  I'd personally volunteer to [ blah-blah yank fantasies... ]

I almost didn't include that question in this because I'm kind of ashamed to say why I won't do it again: IT HURTS!!!  It hurts a LOT to be tortured for real.  I didn't like it at ALL when it was being done to me and I dread it happening again.  The "payoff" wasn't the unendurable pain, the payoff was when guys threw the whip on the floor and raped me while I cried.  GOD DAMN!!  That was the religious revelation, the feeling of total surrender, of not being a "person" anymore, but just an animal, a female mammal, a warm body to be used by a man, by evolution, and by God, each for different purposes that don't really involve ME at all.

The man's purpose is triumphant domination and ego-reinforcement; evolution's purpose it to create a new branch in the tree of life which is better adapted than I am.

God's purpose, why he/they/it designed the universe and made me be raped in it, is something I'll never know.

To me, "God" [for lack of a better term], is whatever caused and (I think guides) evolution, and it probably doesn't physically exist in our universe.  "God" may be just another name for mathematics, per se.   I think it used viruses as vectors to nudge our development in the direction they want it to go, and that's why evolution has discontinuous jumps in complexity. 

I have no idea what it looks like, so as a placeholder, I imagine it as a black, rectangular monolith—its origin and purpose, still, a TOTAL mystery.

This is my bible.


> washing/showering: you've described going to a friend's to take a shower. 

Yeah,  Pattycakes the Spherical Christian.  My mail goes to her house, too. 


> You also said you go for weeks without bathing.  Doesn't that get kind of sticky?

Not sticky, but real greasy. The bedding gets greasy too, though some of that is from masturbation, since after I cum, I'm in heaven for a while and too lazy to get a paper towel before my natural lube leaks out.  Plus, I use KY on my vibrator when I thrust it into my sex organ or ass really hard, while imagining I'm being raped.

I wash my face and hands with waterless hand cleaner and brush my teeth the normal way. I haven't cleaned my bedding in three years, but there aren't any insects anywhere near my cave because I dumped an acre's worth of insecticide around the outside perimeter.  It's  a white berm of insect death.

If you're lookin' for a DIRTY GIRL, that's ME!   :-)



> laying around for 3 years is probably not all that good for the body

So what?  It's good for the soul.  My body is just a toy for me and others to play with until it breaks.  Then it has to be thrown away.  
 
...That thought arouses me sexually.


Y'know, having to die without ever knowing WTF just happened (for 14 billion years) REALLY pisses me off.
 
...Until I touch the hair on my dark, swollen cunt and think "Aww, the hell with it!  Let's download porn!"

> are there any sports you enjoy?

Yeah, thinking.  Learning.  

...And masturbating!  

Seriously, I've made it a high art form.  I could win an Olympic gold medal in furious nubbin rubbin'.    I could win the Nobel prize for masturbation.


> why do you say "cunt" instead of "vagina"?

Because my fucked-up mother had a "vagina" and I'm nothing like her.

By an amazing coincidence, she was also a cunt.

I had a vagina too, until I was 13.  Then it turned into a dark, swollen, hairy sex organ.  Nobody ever asked if that was okay with me, and I have a big, big problem with that.  I call it a "cunt" because what it's for is so crude.  I feel that not pointing out the distressing, unrequested, biological manipulation that God does to us is like letting him get away with it.  If he's going to do this to me, I'm not going to politely ignore it like everybody else.  And every time I'm penetrated, I think about what a strange, strange thing this is that supposedly-intelligent humans do.  Nio wonder everyone's ashamed of it and never talks about it!  That's one reason I want to be tortured during sex: it makes me pay attention to the immediate feelings in my body instead of endlessly observing and internally commenting on everything.

> I see an air conditioner in your cave but how do you keep warm in the winter?

Well, the answer's obvious, but I have a space heater that I almost never use because I never need it to stay warm.

Look, I didn't just crawl into a cardboard box under a pile of junk; I designed this place. Knowing how cold it gets, and not wanting to assume I'd always have external power, I designed it to be comfortable without added heat when it's subfreezing.  The inner surface of my cave is a tent, but on top of that are layers of blankets and leaves and plastic tarp almost a foot thick, covered with camouflage tarp, more leaves, and sticks.  And it's all topped with a creamy vanilla/chocolate coating of bird and squirrel crap.  

I can hear them walking around up there.  It's really cool.  Sometimes, I really like my life.

In the winter, It's warm enough to sleep naked on top of my blanket instead of under it.  In fact, it's SO well insulated that I have to use the A/C on 'Fan' to suck cool air in even in winter, because the PC, monitor, dorm fridge, my breath, my brain,  my cunt, and friction against my clit generate more heat than can leak out of here unless it's VERY cold outside.
 
I only need the space heater when it gets well below freezing out.  And only twice in three years, when it got down below zero outside the cave, have I had to sleep UNDER the blanket.   I am comfy and warm in here—vulnerable and completely exposed to the leering gaze of anyone who finds me.   

Ooo, if anyone does, will he crawl in here and fuck me, or will he drag me out and tie me to a tree?  Will he gag me and handcuff me and make me walk with him deeper into the woods on bare feet by hitting me with a sapling switch?  Will he lock me in a trunk in his van and drive for hours to somewhere isolated?

I've run many, many such scenarios through my mind ...until I cum.

But as much as I'd like those things, I hope it doesn't happen. The reason I live here is to be blissfully ALONE. And if it does happen, I'll have to move and find another hidey-hole near a power main, and that's a lot of trouble.

But while he's here, I'll let him do anything he wants to me, for as long as he wants.  And I'll like it.

I hope he ties me down and whips my cunt, savagely, like he hates me, and keeps whipping it until it's covered with bleeding, raised welts and I'm sobbing so hard I can't breathe.  Then he fucks my ass hole fast and DEEP while I lay there limp and crying.   
 
I think I'll masturbate again today, and think about that.

I know it's just an autistic thing, but crying during sexual torture is really the only time I ever visibly express ANY emotion.

=== UPDATE

I added a room to my Yoda-cave! Click here for pix and vids of my home(less) improvement project! 

> I don't believe you really live like this

1) So what?  Why should I care?

2) See the cell-phone videos of the outside and inside of my cave, earlier in this blog entry.

3) The fact that I live like this is actually irrelevant to my blog. Of 150* entries so far, this is the only one about how I live. In fact, if you look at the blog item dates, it wasn't until recently that I even revealed how I live. I finally made this blog entry because I had told so many people in emails that I said 'fuck it'. Plus, I'm tired of repeating all this to everyone.

*Now 6,000+ entries, including my old myspace blog.

4) My whole blog would be exactly the same without someone making the HUGE effort to build a fake homeless cave, string Christmas lights, rig up a fake piss-coated funnel, and stock it with food, books, an air conditioner, PC, radios, etc. for absolutely no reason at all.  At least, none that an autistic person would understand. You god damn normal people do all kinds of things for no reason I can see, like jealousy and revenge and rage and talking to strangers and socializing.

And love.

Oh, and as a reward for reading this far, you might like this [THAT LINK DOESN'T WORK.  I'LL FIX IT], my BDSM movie collection for you to download free -- 14 Gigs with all copyright notices and other text edited out for your pulling pleasure.   And there's no commercial Hollywood shit, either. It's all the real thing, amateur stuff where the girl isn't figuring out how much she's being paid per whip stroke.  You won't find any of my rub-off fuel on pay sites. 

Here's a pic of me naked and tied to some guy's bed:

 Unfortunately, when he finished hurting and fucking me, he untied me.

I wish men wouldn't DO that.

HERE'S a pic of me that shows my best side:

  And HERE'S a video of me being fucked in my ass while, as always, I was tied to the furniture.  After the guy fills me up with cum, there's so much of it that when he pulls out, it runs out of my ass hole like light-grey water.

Now, THAT'S how I like being used! 

See my cunt?  I pull down my pants and give it away FREE to any man with balls enough to order me to. 

So will every other woman.

 But you bewildered sacks o' shit won't get ANY of it because you forgot WTF you really are.

Hey Poindexter:

REMEMBER.

> are you crazy? 

Well, DUHHHHHHH!  Shit, they say there are no stupid questions, but that one really takes the cake!

I was even committed to a mental hospital once.  My only regret is that I was so shy, I never said anything to the guys (or the women, either).  If I could do it again, I'd humbly request that literally EVERY one of the male patients fucks me--again and again and again.  I know a girl who did. Three, in fact, if you include two mental hospitals.  But before I WISED UP, I was too shy to talk to anybody.  If someone spole to me, I'd freeze, then walk away embarrassed.  I mainly hid in the crazy-people  library all day.

Because we were all adults (well, physically), sex wasn't even against the rules as long as you were discreet.  (Like the Hensel twins if they get separated: they'd be discrete).  Those crazy guys were all very, very horny. And there were a LOT of them! I probably could have done nothing all day, every day but lie naked in the grass being fucked.  It could have been just like my sex slave experience in 2002, but without the torture.  I wasted that opportunity to be fucked--and a lot of other ones-- like I wasted my whole life: by being shy, timid,and polite.

But I don't want YOU to waste YOUR LIFE like I did.


And THAT'S why I do this blog, god dammit.