My Life In Hell

This country is a mess, because people are sitting on their hands allowing things they know are wrong to continue to happen. Humans are indoctrinated early on, spoonfed propaganda never allowed to think for themselves. Their minds are closed to new ideas. Their thinking is done for them, their thoughts are not their own and not original.

My Life In Hell

To pick up where I left off in my last blog. My father spent over $300 dollars for nothing on hypnosis sessions that didn't work. I wanted to try sodium pentothal, which is an anesthetic, hypnotic, and is also known as truth serum that and sodium amytal, because I was hoping that through these drugs I might be able to reverse, or reconstitute my body back to the way it was and reverse the damage done to it; but no doctor would do this not without paying them a boat load of money. If I had the money I'd still be willing to do this. I found out there was a danger to taking these drugs and that they required an antidote; the antidote being picrotoxin, but I didn't know where to get it. I found out that it was produced in India. I wrote to the doctor whose name and address was included in the information. He responded, but wasn't very helpful, so there was nothing more I could do, accept tolerate the situation. To be continued.

My Life In Hell

To pick up where I last left off, the buildings were so poorly renovated with cheap, inferior, secondhand worn, defective, 3rd rate, old, used parts, materials, workmanship, not even a half ass job went into these buildings. Absolutely no insulation or anything substantial or solid to keep the cold from coming in during the winter, or the heat during the summer, so we either froze or broiled. There was was no sound proofing materials to dampen sounds and noise, so whether or not you wanted to you could hear sounds from all directions. From the apartments on the floors below to the apartment next door, as well as the apartments across the way in the adjacent building. Sounds from talking, sometimes well into the night. To sliding door closets which they would slam instead of closing quietly. To dragging furniture instead of lifting it, refusing to muffle with either carpeting or something under the legs of the funiture chairs, tables, dressers etc, anything heavy that could have been lifted they dragged. They refused to muffle the sounds of walking which they did at all hours of the day and night, always running. Babies crying, telephones ringing. Any kind of sound vibration, coming in at all hours of the day and night, slamming doors, washing machines and dryers; washing clothes sometimes until 1-2 in the morning could be heard all the way from the 1st floor to the 4th floor. Air conditioners. Car horns, these lazy sob's refuse to get out of their cars have to honk their horns, car alarms, who is going to steal their cars? We are supposed to have a noise ordinance which is ignored. No noises between the hours of 11pm to 7am. Then there is the siren calling these creatures to prayer for their sabbath, having to put up with that ancient, primitive ritual. They subjugate one, force one to be under their control. Landlords are supposed to make repairs, Abraham Lesser never did. He expected everyone to make their own repairs. We couldn't make our own repairs and pay for storm and or replacement windows, cement boards as we did in the old neighborhood. To make this place liveable you would have to rip the place apart and start from scratch, most of the other tenants did that, but then they had the money to do that we didn't. Besides which my father never wanted to stay here, why fix up a place if you what to go someplace else. Not even the walls were made of real plaster or mortar bricks or real wood just half inch plaster board, and the kitchen cabinets were made of particle board, when wet falls apart. In the old neighborhood we lived on Shepherd Ave. between Hegeman Ave. and Linden Blvd. With the drone of the cars passing to and fro it was restful you could sleep even with people walking to work in the morning to go to their jobs in the factories. There are 2 stress hormones produced by the adrenal glands, cortisol and catecholamines which are necessary for the flight or fight response, but what happens when you can't flee or fight, you're forced to suppress the feelings, stuff them down and the stress hormones start attacking the body. In every one the results are different depending on the individual, you could eat and gain weight, drink and develop a drinking problem, develop a thyroid condition, heart condition, or the pigment follicles of the hair could lose pigment through peroxidation a direct result of the stress, and the stress hormones and the body and mind never having the chance to rest and sleep which is so vital for the body to recover and function. By the following year I was desperate I would have done or tried anything. An uncle had a book which I got hold of The Practicle Application Of Medical And Dental Hypnosis, by Milton H. Erickson, M.D., Seymour Hershman, M.D., Irving I. Sector, D.D.S. I read the book and some how was able to contact 2 of the authors. One wasn't able to provide any sources, but one provided the name of a doctor in my area, a Dr. Silber on Beverly Road. I always thought that I was what I would call influence-able or capable of being influenced because I always believed what I was told. Maybe that's different from being suggest-able; because it didn't work. My father spent over

My Life In Hell

Despite it's problems the one thing about the old neighborhood and Shepherd Ave. was that it was quiet. So it was a shock when we moved to Borough Park and the noise. That's how I discovered the truth about the new place and the hidden flaws, what it was really like. That's when I discovered that I suffered from hyperacusis (sound sensitivity) so severe that I nearly went nuts. The noise and sounds were so bad that I went from 9 hours of sleep a night to what I get now 5. The irony is that things eventually changed, but because of the severe sleep deprivation my health was severely and permanently effected. It also effected my father, because I couldn't cope with the never ending noise and sounds, I kept my father from having his rest trying to figure out what to do about it, and eventually it took a toll. There was noise because the place was so poorly renovated. I knew sounds and noise bothered me, but until we had the misfortune to come to this wretched place I never knew how bad it was. To be continued.

My Life In Hell

If you don't have any material possessions,aren't physically attractive, tall, wear the latest rags no one has any use for you. Anyone not black, hispanic, asian, or any of the myriad of cultures, and fabulously wealthy living in this country is just not accepted. Elizabeth Cutter Wilson is a white bread elitist who along with her colleague Jon Alvarez worked for Neighbors Helping Neighbors 443 39th St. Rm. 202 Brooklyn, N.Y. 11232 Tele. 718-686-7946, E mail Info @NHN home.org. She took one look at my place looked at her colleague Jon Alvarez never said one word and they both left. I never heard from either of them again. You write to someone in the hopes of being able to get help, someone like Dan Frey Director/ editor in chief N.Y. City Voices P.O. Box 310368 Brooklyn, N.Y. Tele. 718-643-6758, E-mail Editors @ New city voices.org. Never responded. People don't help someone not their own kind, I've had that point hammered home to me over and over and over again. You can ask for help just don't look as though you actually need it, Your apartment has to be in pristine condition otherwise these snobs look down their noses at you, and you had better be one of their kind, if you're not black, jewish, speak spanish you won't get help. Yolanda Coca of the 5th ave. Committee, where are these hypocrites? They don't want to know you. If you do hear from them they make up some lame ass excuse.

My Life In Hell

If you don't have any material possessions, aren't physically attractive, tall, wear the lastest expensive rags no one has any use for you. Anyone not black, hispanic, asian, or any of the myrias of cultures and fabulously wealthy is just not accepted. If you don't buy all the crap that's advertised they're losing money. If they can't make money or their commission they don't want you as a customer. I've gone through this time and time again where they start out ( the white cashiers) decent enough; the blacks and hispanics are another story, then become rude.

My Life In Hell

Joseph is a tall thin as a rail black homosexual who works for Shoprite supermarket on Ave.I in Brooklyn. Tele.718-252-5770, 800-Shoprite. When I first met him He didn't say anything just stared. Blacks are completely superficial, no substance you are to them only what they can see. They're taught from the womb and continue to be indoctrinated that only black is good and important white is nothing; and if you don't have much to begin with they really look down on you. If you have material items they want what you have and take it from you for them selves. After a while Joseph developed a facade, a mask so as which to tolerate me. Then one day when I came in, I saw him checking people out, so when I was ready to check out he was no where to be found, I had to go to someone else. When I was finished he conveniently turns up with the excuse that he was on a break. The next time I saw him asked him if he'd be around, he assured me he would, but again he disappeared only to turn up after I was already done. Then I figured it out; the old saying fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. Well this time the 3rd time I saw him, but decided when I was ready to check out to go to someone else, which was a good idea since he pulled the same stunt. This time I packed my stuff at an empty register and he came back on duty right next to my register, knew I was there but was ignoring me, and we never spoke. I'm the the one who should have the issues, those bastards have tormented me my whole life all through school. Threatening to beat me up, if a neighbor hadn't passed by they would have. Later on a bunch of them through a fire cracker at me. You dare not look at them the wrong way or accidentally step on their foot without risking life and limb this is the terror I lived with. I was followed up a flight of stairs surrounded by a gang of girls who grabbed my hair and pulled it out, then threw me down the stairs, threw my school books in a garbage can. My father was mugged numerous times coming home from work. They hit him on the head. Another time robbed him of a protective gadget; another time robbed him of his pants and he had to come home without them, fortunately he was only a few blocks from home. They're the ones who murder each other and can't control their baser, primitive, violent instincts. They're truly obnoxious and materialistic. If you have it they want it and take it away from you. If in my case you don't have anything they look down on you, and have no use for you, and ridicule you. I have to tolerate being victimized, because it's all about them having jobs. They don't have any manners or people skills,but when has that ever mattered. I'm not an ass licker or kisser never have been, never will. I don't care how crude, gross or disgusting that sounds, at least it's truthful. Whites are such brown nosers, I don't know why whites care about what blacks think about them anyway, not that blacks are capable of thinking. They don't respect white people. The reverand Al Sharpton certainly has no use for anyone white. He's always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, agitating and fomenting, using his National Action Network. I always felt conflicted, because of what they did to my father and me, well now I don't have to. I don't know why I felt guilty, I did nothing wrong, I'm not responsible for their history and for everything that goes wrong in their lives or because they lack intelligence or the ability to think and reason, let their raw primitive emotions rule their lives, and lack common sense. Are completely superficial and devoid of anything substantive and real. I can't fight back, all I can do is put up with their behavior towards me, I have no leverage. The women are shrews always screeching and screaming never shut up. Both the men and women learn from early on to get what they want through fear and intimidation. They're more cold blooded and have no conscience and have absolutely no remorse feel it's owed them. They're cagey and couldn't tell the truth if their lives depended on it. I dread having to go shopping at Shoprite or even Pathmark, because I have to put up with insolent, rude behavior from the only people capable of doing this job, the only people Shoprite,Pathmark, and other stores hire, those with very low intelligence who are more interested in gossiping with their lowbrow customers, and discriminating toward someone who doesn't dress or look like one of the primitive tribe they belong to. Blacks, obama just lack credibility. Anyone black is nerver accepted or acknowledged.

My Life In Hell

When my father and I first moved in to our apartment we at first notice the cheapness and the flaws of the place it was nothing more then a facade; maybe because we were coming from a place that was seeming worse. The landlords from the old neighborhood on Shepherd ave. were Julius and Ida Zalowitz. The only thing my father could afford was an annex (attachment) to the apartment building the Zalowitz' owned. A 3 room hovel (shack). Cold,damp,drafty,with mold and mildew in the winter. So cold and drafty I contracted cellulitis( inflamation of the lymph glands on my neck). Hot and sweltering in the summer. Before we moved there my father had to leave me in foster homes while he was homeless, until he was lucky, yeah lucky enough to find this horror. Then after we already moved out, the Zalowitzs had the gaul to make my father restore the place to the condition it was in. If he hadn't added storm windows paid out of his own pocket we would have froze. The walls were damp and smelled of mold and mildew, the floors you could almost fall through the floor boards were so old. Then Ida charged my father 3 extra months of rent while making sure he was restoring the place even removing cement boards. Their children are Rochelle, Sammy and an eldest daughter,I do't remember her name. There were roaches and rats;there was no sink in the bathroom; no lighting fixtures. S--t heels. To be continued.

My Life In Hell

I've been tripping over my feet figuratively trying to relate my experiences, because of several factors, one my lack of experience in blogging in general and this service in particular. If I could go back and correct the errors I would, but since I can't do that without starting over they have to stand, I'd like help,but that isn't forthcoming. Next being overwhelmed by problems, exhaustion and resulting health problems caused by everything I'm forced to deal with. I don't regret what I've said,because if I didn't feel so strongly about what I've experienced and what I was going through I wouldn't have said the things I said. I would have said them eventually it was inevitable. I just regret that it was so poorly executed. When one is overtired errors are the result. I'd like to think that despite the feeling that my brain is wrapped in cellophane I'm still capable of trying to solve problems. I'm still going to express my thoughts even if no one else feels the same,because these are my very real experiences and for better or worse they have helped shape who I am. If I am to feel better and start to heal I have to discard then. It seems that every time I seemingly adjust to something that I should never have had to to begin with, there is something new to have to deal with, after a while it becomes too much and you just shut down,because you just can't handle it anymore. Every time I'm forced to accept something that I find is wrong a little more of me dies. I'm aware that there is no one capable of understanding everything that is contained in this blog, or realizing the extent to which I've been suffering; how truly horrendous things are and have been, much less empathizing with me to want to reach out, offer help and friendship.

My Life In Hell

When the weather was unbearably hot,Bloomberg generously announced the opening of cooling centers/stations,because of the excessive heat. Too bad he couldn't spend part of his billions to get people desperately needed airconditioners,for those in real need of them. Or build decent low income affordable housing. He lives in a luxury apartment, 499 Park Ave. at 59 St. 10022 Tele. 212-583-1706. He lives in an ivory tower, while we peasants live in hovels.

My Life In Hell

I wish I could find a place to live that is suitable, peaceful and free of undesirable elements. Where I didn't have to live in fear all the time. Where money wasn't a factor,or a consideration and didn't even enter into it. where people accepted me; Didn't look down on me; or stare at me as though I were from mars; because I wasn't one of them. Treat me strangely,as though I were a freak. To be continued.

My Life In Hell(the ugly truth)

The word need,has anyone ever thought about how many times a day. or in a sentence the word need is used; and how it seems to have replaced other more appropriate words such as has, have? The word need is used in between every other word, it is the most over used and abused word in the english language.

My Life In Hell(the ugly truth)

I'm sick and tired of being victimized by someone who sees me as an easy target to be bullied and take their aggression and mis-placed feelings of racial injustice out on for something I'm not responsible for, slavery and racisim. They are hypocrites and liars. They are taught early on not to acknowledge anyone not black. They don't look anyone white directly in the eyes, and never make eye contact or sit near you if they don't have to. Are contemptuous of whites, are superficial and lack impulse control. Obama is a stick figure,cold,artificial,insincere, mechanical and a mannequin. There is nothing genuine about him or them. They're phonies.

My life In Hell(the ugly truth)

Rabbi Abraham Lesser lives in the finast accomodations, nothing but the very best for him and his family.While he is living very comfortably at 1481 47th street, Brooklyn, N.Y.,11219 Tele. 718-633-8238, 633-8237, 718-851-9018; I'm living in a rat infested hell hole

My Life In Hell( the ugly truth)

I thought when my father and I moved to Borough Park Brooklyn, from East N.Y. Brooklyn things would finally be different, that things would get better, that we would both have a chance to have something neither of us had a real home, what a joke. Instead of things getting better, a dream come true things got worse if that's possible. It developed into a nightmare. When the realization of what life here was really going to be like sunk in, my father and I just gave up. He always wanted to move to a warm climate, he could never take the cold weather. I will always feel guilt because I didn't make much of an effort even though I knew how he felt. Now I'm paying the price for that. When we moved to Borough Park we moved with our neighbor Mrs. Frances Perlberg from East N.Y. Brooklyn, Shepherd Ave. The neighborhood was changing. I don't know the details of how any of this came about. Some jewish organization connected to Mrs. Perberg wanted to help her. I knew Mrs. Perlberg as a child she would take care of me while my father was at work. So when the opportunity to move away from Shepherd Ave., she wanted to include us. We were able to get a N.Y.C Housing Authority section 8 subsidy. For some reason the rent was abnorm-ally low and the security deposit was $100. Who knows what goes on in the head of a jew. The landlord was-is rabbi Abraham Lesser. The building is one of three interconnecting buildings that were reaching completion of being renovated. The buildings are close to 100 years old. In 1969 one of the buildings suffered a fire. I don't know the extent of the damage, or to which build-ing it was. On the serface everything seemed fine, but this belies what was really going on. The truth about what really went on I wouldn't be privy to until much later. For the first couple of years rabbi Lesser or one of his sons actually lived in one of the buildings. At one point he wanted us to move in order to accomodate one of his other sons the apartment next to us wasn't big enough and they wanted both apartments to make into one big apartment. We said no. I don't think Lesser was very happy, but at the time there wasn't much he could do about it. I wasn't dealing with Lesser my father was, so I don't know what his reaction to not getting his own way was. He made up for it with vengence. Lessers' neice lives there with her husband and five children. She recently had a baby, a boy; supposedly. I never knew she was pregnant,she didn't look pregnant,and if you know anything about these people they are always pregnant and it's obvious. However, I digress. In order to buy and renovate these buildings Lesser had to take out a loan. These renovations were financed by funds loaned to the owner- one Abraham Lesser- under the provisions of Article 8 of the Private Housing Finance Law. In addition, as a result of the renovation, beginning with the tax year 1974-1975 the then and still current owner Abraham Lesser recieved J-51 tax exemption/abatement benifits. The J-51 tax abatement benifits expired at the end of the 2002-2004 tax year, some 30 years later; and the "Article 8 loan was satis-fied. That's when things changed and we had the rug completely pulled out from under us; but I'm getting ahead of my self, I'm jumping ahead. To be continued.

My Life In Hell (the ugly truth)

Anthony Sgarlato of Baltic St. AEH Inc. Has a lot of nerve touting all the positive things he is supposed to have done on behalf of people in need. he's full of crap. The only person Anthony has helped is Anthony. He makes $2,ooo a month, has a live in girlfriend-Laura Marie Marcus; to which she contributes another $700, and he can't pay his rent; had to get a subsidy from the Brooklyn Bureau of Community Service. All because Anthony couldn't pay off credit card bills, wants a cloths dryer has to have cable, and air conditioning. None of which I have, because I live in a hell hole, a hovel. My good for nothing landlord a rabbi, rabbi Abraham Lesser never fixed, so I lost my New York City Housing Authority section 8 subsidy. I can't have an air conditioner because of the condition of the place, the windows and casement are old, weak and structurally unsound and will not support the weight of an air conditioner. And Anthony can't make due with $2,700 a month. He's full of it. I'm supposed to feel sorry for him, because he won't live within his means and has to buy on credit, have cable and a cloths dryer. Poor, poor Anthony. If Anthony needs help because he can't pay his rent whose fault is it, living beyond his means. Tax payers shouldn't subsidize him and his girlfriend. They're already paying him for some-thing he doesn't do, his job. Why should he be paid for loafing off? He went on vacation with his girlfriend to a resort which was a luxury, his words. How can he go on vacation when he can't even pay his rent? Anthony J. Sgarlato has risen to become supervisor of Baltic St. AEH Inc. Lives somewhere in Bensonhurst Brooklyn, 11214, but where? For some reason he doesn't want anyone to know where he and Laura Marie live. What is Anthony hiding? Along with suffering from anger and depression, pedophilia perhaps? He doesn't do anything, yet he earns $2,000 a month. his girlfriend certainly earns a paycheck,disability. So why is he recieving help from the Brooklyn Bureau of Community Service for rent? While I'm living,correction wasting away in a hell hole practically invisi-ble with no one helping me. He supposedly advocated for the mentally ill and their needs when he went to Albany, yet when I needed help where the hell was he? He sits on his fat ass doing nothing except watching child porn on his com-puter all the time he is supposed to be working, that's if he even shows up, some days he doesn't bother to come in to the office. When you ask agencies like the B.B.C.S for help they give you the run around or don't respond at all, yet they help that creep. He can watch t.v. he gets cable, while I've had to live without t.v. because I've lost my signal transmission since June 12, 2009. He and everyone there treat me like garbage, the hypocrites when he's viewing porn and who knows what else. He is an inarticulate bum who can't string two words together to make a coherent sentence. He's passive-aggressive. When he still acknow-ledged my existance he would try to be profound, deep "self help and empower- ment are the mainstay in our lives. You must make an effort to defend on your behalf or sustain the consequences; that we all make mistakes. Then after hav-ing said that he proceeds to make another mistake, without confirming if it was the correct thing to do he tells me to go and get a waiver for something which turns out to have been a huge mistake. What in the hell was he trying to say? It was asinine. He has the intelligence of that of a two year old and an idiot, below that of an imbecile, below that of a moron

My Life In Hell (the ugly truth)

To pick up where I last left off. There is so much waste and mismanagement by the city, state and federal government it's no wonder that this kind of corruption is going on, no one is watching; the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing. They've caused so much damage the "advocates" at AEH. The harm is at times irreparable and yet no one ever stops them they're allowed to go merrily on their way. They sent out serveys the "clients" are supposed to fill them out, rating them and their performance on how well they did as far as providing help with such things as housing and other basic services. I didn't bother what's the point it's a joke. I've had problems that I really needed help with, problems that they dismissed, because they don't have to deal with them. Their life is going great, so they make what I like to call marie antoinette suggestions; when the people were starving and asking for bread she suggested they eat cake. It makes you want to ring the neck of the person making the lame ass suggestion. They live in their own world uneffected by what is going on around them. There is something seriously, seriously wrong with these people, all of them. When it comes to looking after someone's interests the only one's that matter are theirs. When Darlene Arroyo worked there she spent more time on furthering herself then doing anything for anyone else. I guess when you're zoned out on happy pills it's easy to justify just about anything with lying and excuses. What do you say to someone "that I know you're lying". They stare at you and don't say anything. I know you know that I complained. All they do is close ranks pretend everything is normal, and give me the choice of not coming back. Some choice, where else am I going to go? Then I become frustrated and enraged and no where again. It's ludicrous to allow mentally defective people to advocate on behalf of others; besides only the courts can appoint an advocate. I have no leverage and it's eating away at me, I can't handle it. I said this in my letter when I wrote to Bill DiBlasio; he didn't give a damn. Then there is Robert he's always there, he's been there for years, who knows what he does,nothing. Then there is cheryl she doesn't see me, because I'm not black and if you're not black you don't exist unless you're part of click, a mental click. There are more, but I don't know them, since I don't go there on a regular basis. I wish I could find a way to drag these lazy good for nothing bums up off of their ass' over here and make them see what living here has really been like, and the next time one of them says "I know" I'd like to shove my fist up their ass right up to their lying throat. By knowing what was going on and just sitting by and allowing it to continue unabated makes them complicate and guilty, they and others who could have and should have gotten involved and done something, but didn't are to blame for my situation. I blame them and hold them responsible. My situation should never have happened. I should have been able to go to someone for help and get it. Instead they're cagey and I feel like I have to fense with them. I should never have been put in this position where I was forced to handle things when I couldn't. There is something seriously, seriously wrong somewhere when people can see you're suffering and just plain don't give a damn. While I was looking for a place to replace Baltic St. AEC Inc. I came across Club Access ETC. 156 Williams St. N.Y., N.Y. 10038 Tele. 646-536-7704. The go to the person who at that time was Donald Johnson a half korean-half black just like a Tiger Woods look a like and just about as sincere and reliable. The place responsible for all this misery is ADVOTEC, 92 Seward Ave. Suite 11-15, Middle Town, N.Y. 10940 Tele.845-344-6889.

My Life In Hell

Why anyone would allow people who are mentally defective to peer advocate for people who are in need of services I'll never understand it's ludicrous; they don't do anything and the people who need help the most are the least likely to get it. I go to Baltic Street AEH, Inc. for help Mark Hersenson is supposed to know of a place that has computer training, but he has a convenient memory lapse, can't remember. Maybe it's because of all the happy pills he and the rest of those mental cases, oh excuse me "mental health consumers" that's what they prefer to be called- take. They are zoned out of their sculls on happy pills, sitting on their butts like zombies, Anthony Sgarlato in his office at his computer watching child porn. They give you a blank,vacant,empty stare whenever you try and talk to them; scarfing down all kinds off junky snacks never offering anything to anyone regardless of whether or not it's wanted. The one day they aren't open for business is Friday, who knows what really goes on behind closed doors; it's supposed to be about budget meetings, but anything could be going on. Carla when she worked there before being transfered took intake ( information about the client); gave me a diagnosis of something I wasn't suffering from, and told me it was so they could get more funding. I didn't and don't suffer rom the diagnosis of clinical depression. So she and the rest of those mental midgits are cheating the system and the tax payers. They're always skirting and evading the truth, when you ask them a direct question. They walk around in a fog and unless you are directy in their path don't see you. Once they find out what you want they don't acknowledge your existence, it's as though you don't exist. To be continued.

My Life In Hell

When you have a responsibility,you are supposed to take it seriously. You don't shrug it off, someone's life could hang in the balance.What did these mental cases think I was coming to them for? I was counting and relying on them, and for them to just leave me in the lurch and bale on me is inexcusable. Brooklyn Self-Help And Advocacy Center, 250 Baltic Street, 3rd Fl. Brooklyn, N.Y. 11201 tele. 718-875-7744

My Life In Hell

Carla is unbelievable, telling me that if I'm not carefull I'll become bitter, the nerve of her that's her response after just standing by not saying anything or doing anything to ameliorate the situation knowing that I was upset over something. You don't do to someone what Carla and the rest of those miserable excuses for anything on two legs; but especially Carla, did to me, make promises of help and then renege on them. You count on someone, and for to just bale isn't right she knew how bad things were, but she did it anyway. I feel such anger. I'm enraged. I want to take Carla Berkleys head and push it through a plate glass window and smash her face on the concrete pavement until it is unrecognizable, that lopsided insane grin that she has. If you think your politicians, government officials, and representatives are concerned about you and what you'r going through, you are naive. The only things they care more about then themselves are money, what it will buy, and the special interest groups who give it to them. I didn't start out feeling this much rage and hatred, I had to learn it getting kicked in the teeth over and over and over again. I finally learned how to hate. When you are forced to go through day after day after endless day of continual never ending, indescribable misery maybe you'll understand how degraded a person is made to feel having to beg for help, the humiliation. To be trapped with no way out. No one has the common decentcy to be open, honest, front about any of this. There is no justice on this screwed up, primitive planet. They just continue the lie and go on as though it's another day and it's perfectly normal behavior, rather then deal with what's going on. This is my frustration taken to the extreme. I'm stuffing down my anger because I have no choice and it's effecting my health. They get off scott free to live their lives. No one gets it, they're all clueless, they're all living in their own fantasy world, but they have decent, habitable homes and families to come home to.

My Life In Hell

Public Advocate 1centre street,N.Y., N.Y. 10007. Tele. 212-669-7000. The Public Advocate post was created to help people. It hasn't lived up to it's responsibility.

My Life In Hell

I only wrote to Public Advocate Bill DiBlasio because I assumed he was worth something and I needed help, I assumed wrong. In the past public advocates' Mark Green and Betsy Gotbaum at least responded. All I wanted from him was to know if there were any watch dog/regulatory agencies that monitored peer advocacy centers and took complaints. I wasn't able to find anything. I don't appreciate being treated like a lab experiment that they can get they feet wet, so that they can feel validated and if I just happen to get some help in the process that's icing on the cake; and if they don't feel like going to a schedualed appointment they don't have to,that's rediculous. It's a hardship for me having to reschedual appointments just to accomodate them when I'm not supposed to. They have no right to expect that. I have chores and errands to run responsibilities; I don't have anyone helping me. What does Carla Berkley have to do, stay at home with her hubby, go to NAMI (National Alliance For The Mentally Ill). Watch t.v. on cable? But no DiBlasio couldn't be bothered. If he would have responded I would have told him of other problems I was having. But he has his own agenda having nothing to do with the Publicate Advocates office. When He ran for Public Advocate it had nothing to do with serving the public or the people he owes his allegiance to those responsible for him and Bloomberg getting elected and reelected,the jewish vote.