NONE OF THIS MATTERS, So, here it is….

Dear Government:

So here it is- the Final Moment, where “the tune has come to me, at last.”     ~Led Zeppelin

I tried very hard- gave it more than my best at this fourth?! and final attempt, to play a bureaucratic game of musical papers to weed out the frauds & deceivers….. oh this ‘need’ I understand- its use logical and economically sound, at one time, but the rules, if there ever really were any, keep changing when it appears they ever might be understood.

I have indeed been quite the sporting competitor, as much as I could, but without the alleged ‘Help’ that was promised and never found- this is the best that I can do on my own.

First and last, you should never promise that which is not yours to give, nor that which you never had. Every document ever received by me from you, PROMISED help with your papers if I needed them. I did. And I called every number, spoke to every name, but all vaguely knew of this rumoured helping person- not their name or number, mind you- but only adding further life to ancient rumours and more assurance to me with any certainty that it was not them. And before hanging up on my incompleteness of required forms, gave me yet another name and number in a series, that after two months of physical pain, anguish, sleeplessness, inability to eat, nightmares, panic, anxiety, despair, unnecessary cause for fragility- torment & torture that are not yours to give in the quest for my qualification to a caste of societies’ cast-offs…. This is all I have to offer on my own desperate behalf.

NEVER, have I been unwilling– I have been physically, mentally and emotionally UNABLE to fill in the lines that the rules require “not to be left blank”….. this is what is called one of my personal DISABILITIES that is your job to discern & assess. Which should have been self-explanatory all along by my desperate need to find the never-existent paper-helping-person, whose job it should have been to know that on that wasted 2-1/2 hour appointment almost two months past now, all the proper words could’ve been already in place on their proper lines, as required by you. Instead, I was given one Belle Hinkle, government representative that not only REFUSED the help I was promised, but could only be bothered with collecting employment history that she could not even effectively document even remotely accurate enough, that I had to make yet another call to correct no less than half of the data that was documented WRONG! And, even more special, is that 20 more pages have been added to my torment of required papers and proper placement of alphabetic characters concerning, of all things- EMPLOYMENT HISTORY.

 

2 months ago, it was & could have been so simple for all involved if One person in that very precious and now lost Moment, to ask the questions, listen to my answers, and write the proper words on said forms. Done.   Neat. Time-effective. And efficient. And did I mention- Done?

The following is a summation of the questions asked, but in the only way I can answer. Included are the notes I tried to draft, like a word search, where I thought I could select out the proper words to fit in the tiny lines provided. I was not up to the challenge- tho my attempts were endless. Though NONE OF THIS MATTERS, because on 21 January, 2015, Belle Hinkle had already judged me as “not taking my paperwork seriously enough, so my disabilities is not SERIOUS ENOUGH either.” Thus began a 2-month-long undeserved & completely unnecessary panic attack, which I am now done with.   Thank you for that special experience.

In my history, I was raised 2nd to youngest amongst 10 wild and beastly boys. There was a woman there, but I had no Mother.   I was raised, by them, as a Boy.   I was raised to believe that there was NOTHING that I could not do. Over the last 40 years, I learned that there were 6 things that I needed to do in my life that were completely beyond me: electricity, peeing my name in cursive in the snow, knitting, cooking dried beans, fuel injected mechanics and hot-wiring a car. Make that 7…. I cannot ride a motorcycle. Everything else that I wanted to, needed to or was asked to do in my life, I excelled at. This life led me to “chase the money” in The Trades.

From the SSI man, Tom B. (it was also written that if I needed help I could call him!) I received no answers other than apologies, another name and number, but he kindly sent me a listing of the jobs, the government already possessed and could answer themselves almost every single question that was asked of me. As upon reading thru those pages I found that I could not remember even half of those most recent jobs I had had- yet ANOTHER OF MY DISABILITIES.   I never said that I didn’t do them as documented incorrectly by Belle Hinkle- I said I had no memory of them, and therefore could not answer the questions in regard to them- not that I would not!

….to be continued, writing it this very moment….

….to be continued, writing it this very moment….

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The Groovi-est, Purple-Beaded, Ever-Laughin', Dukk-Lovin', Barefoot, Dirt-Farmin', Hippi Chikki that you'll ever have the Sublime Pleasure to get to know!

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