From: David Lynch <dnl1960 at yahoo.com>
To: Kimberly Schade <indigo.rose.schade at gmail.com>
Sent: Saturday, March 11, 2023 at 04:07:26 PM EST
Subject: Schadenfreudian Lynchpin

Kim,

Since your life allows you less and less time for me, I wrote you this letter.

On 1 Apr 2023, two decades will have passed from the day that I officially became the April's fool. On that day, my fifteen year relationship had ended in a matter of months.

On 16 May 2003 the day I turned 43, the first of eight lunar eclipse Tetrads of this century began, and that night Star found out she was pregnant with Emily.

At the time of the eclipse, I was sitting in a Buckhead parking lot looking up at the clouds wishing I could see the eclipse.

I was sitting because in a loud bar, I ordered shots of tequila, but we got shots of rum, and a few hours later I was worshiping the porcelain chariot.

A Lunar Tetrad is determined by having four lunar eclipses within two years.

The first Tetrad was 16 May 2003, the second was 9 Nov 2003, the third was 4 May 2004, and the fourth was 28 Oct 2004.

In the Fall of 2003, I went out on my first and last blind date setup by my sister in law.

To have dinner with live music, we drove to Café 290 in Sandy Springs.

My seat was next to the stage, and my location was close enough for me to reach over and touch the keyboard.

We arrived during a break, I looked around for specials of the day. I saw on a chalkboard by the stage that said, "The Black Eyed Peas".

I thought it was part of the menu.

As we ordered, the band started to perform, and my ear could hear these guys were tight.

The music was phenomenal. The band was in their space.

The timing of things presented my date and I standing up to leave just as the band left the stage.

Our paths came together in front of the double doors to the kitchen.

I smiled as the band members approached and I said, "You guys are world class."

With a smile on their face, I reached out to shake the closest band member's hand, and I said, "David Lynch. You are world class."

The man slowly moves his head side to side in the negative, then responded, "Will-i-am".

I smiled and faced slightly to the right to face the woman.

Reaching out with my hand in a gentleman fashion, I closed my eyes and bowed my head to her beauty.

As she holds my hand I reiterate, "You are world class."

The woman slowly moves her head side to side in the negative, then responded, "Fergie".

I smiled and faced slightly to the right to face the man.

I reached out to shake the man's hand, and I said, "You are world class."

The man slowly moves her head side to side in the negative, then responded, "APL.DE.AP"

I smiled, said again, 'You are world class.", then turned as walked away.

About a year later I realized the sign beside the stage was not for the menu.

The band was, The Black Eyed Peas.

My date and I went to a dance club where she proceed to say, "You look like you come from pretty good stock. I am looking for a sperm donor."

I said, "Thank you. I could not imagine having a child and not being there for them."

Drove her home, and went on my way.

Little did I know that my life was about to radically change, and I would be cast deep down into an incel rabbit hole.

Two decades later the black incel hole has stolen my last hopes of ever enjoying the pleasures that were promised to me, but then painfully denied to me by the person that claims to love me.

My Schadenfreudian is that every women in the universe takes pleasure in my misfortune, and my Lynchpin is that I am locked into trying to deliver a message that few are willing to hear. Thus I realize that my efforts, including this email, are all in vain.

Looking back at what has been, I can honestly say, "I tried."

I feel you have made new connections, and I am a hinderance to you moving on, thus is why you have disconnected from me.

Your silence like the especially torturous Valentines day and that continued throughout the week should have been my stop sign letting me know that you got another man.

Two days ago, I texted you to call me, but you did not call or even respond to the texts.

I never have been good comprehending hints.

The last time that we saw each other was in Augusta. While we were sitting in your sister's driveway, you volunteered, "We could jump in the back seat and have sex, but we will both regret it."

A clear hint that the thought of sex with me disgusted you.

Last week in our conversation on the phone, you gave me the most direct hint yet. In the most stern voice that I have ever heard you direct my way, you snapped at me, "I made my decision."

Evidently I crossed a line in the sand.

In the Summer of 2003, I began lifting dumbbells. Before long, I was swinging the weights to music and gyro myself around my house.

In my minds' eye, I was smashing the thoughts that had besieged my mind. Day after day and night after night, I directed my negative energies into smashing my old mindsets apart.

Each of my arms became infinite planes. In sync to the music, I would swing the infinite planes, and I would imagine that the infinite planes were slicing and dicing the entire Universe into microscopic red and blue pieces.

I would imagine that at sunset I was walking up the ridge of a sand dune. Each step would cast sand down the hill to the black void of oblivion. As I took each step the setting sun would remain on the horizon.  I was smashing both death and time with the dumbbells in my hands.

The hierarchy of everything began to whittle down into a single layer divided into a positive side and a negative side. In my mind, I was trying to push the negativity out of my life, but no matter how hard I tried, the positive and negative continued to mix.

Thus the logic of the KnoWell was formed.

I kick myself asking, "How can I be so smart, yet be so extremely stupid?", "How can I be told I am so handsome only to repulse all women?"

I hope that whomever the person is that Andrew was taking issue with is not Michael, and I hope that whomever you connect with as your next partner is not another dominate that will take advantage of your boundless love.

I understand that your life is in transition and this may be the worst time for me to separate my feeling from you, but your silence is doing the distancing for me.

This year has put the rest of my life into clear focus.

Last Fall when my best friend of 40 years takes issue with me saying that the events of 6 Jan 2021 are that of an insurrection. In his anger, he called me an asshole and then refrained from calling me something else.

I couple weeks ago, Emily Payne called me a liar and crazy, and then she wished me a good rest of my life.

Last week on the phone, you told me that you made your choice. Without a doubt you clearly told me that you did not chose me. Namaste.

Over the past 18 years, I apologize for not seeing your signs and hearing your directives.

You deserve an equal partner.
The Hidden Teachings of Jesus Banned from The Bible Reveal Shocking Secrets of Humanity | Part 1

The Forbidden Teachings of Jesus That The Bible Tried To Hide From Humanity | Part 2

May your memories of me revolve around my words in the following letters, to Michelle Victoria at the SB Institute, to Monsignor Henry Gracz, to Archbishop Hartmayer, to Cardinal Dolan, Lama Alan Wallace, and to another near death experiencer Peter Panagore.

I have done so much for so many people, yet no one really even cares about me.

In my heart, I KnoWell that I tried, and I KnoWell that I failed.

From the essence of my being, I hope you succeed.

T'is what it T'is.

David


----------------

Schadelicious,

In your most recent text to me, you reaffirmed that our essences are woven with fabric on the same plane, and I could not agree more.
The instant that your fabric is torn, is the moment that my fabric tears too.
When you were pregnant, we talked on the phone. Emotions roller coasting all around.
Near tears, you said, "I am humongous. I am so big that my belly alone can block out the Sun."

I giggled in return, "Only a heavenly body can eclipse the Sun.", and the laugh returned to our conversation.

You texted that you want to run into a forest and disappear.

In the Summer of 1977, I wanted to run deep into a forest where no one could ever find me.
At that time, my parents had signed me into Northside Hospital psychiatric ward. The place with the really thick windows that do not open.

The Doctors said, "David has a bruised brain from his car wreck, and is having trouble distinguishing between fact and fantasy with delusions of grandeur."
In 1977, people like me were labeled crazy for telling someone that they have a persistent memory of being dead.
On my first night in the facility, the medication of the day was the favorite chemical restraints of Thorazine and Haldol.

Best description of how the chemicals effected me is that my body felt 5 times heavier than without the drugs.

I decided that this place was a bust, and I started to look for a way out.

About mid way through the day, I was told that arts and crafts will be in 15 minutes.

Because arts and crafts are located on the first floor, I went back to my room to get my shoes, I remembered the elevator was a short walk from a side exit.

The escape was easy, the chemical restraint was hard. With every ounce of energy, my breathing was rapid and deep, and my footsteps were a tremendous struggle.

Saint Joseph's was building a new wing, so I headed for the trees behind the construction.

My breathing slowed as I sat there totally amazed that just escaped from a mental ward. Crazy shit.

However; the chemical restraint kept feeling heaver, and heaver. I was not in a good place.

The burst of exercise had resulted in extremely blurred vision.

Something was happening. God dammit. I have got to go back.

Of course the path to get back was up hill. My heart pounding as I opened the side door.

Taking the elevator back to the freak show, I step out the elevator turning past the nurses station to my room.

A started nurse blurts out, 'David. Where have you been?"

Not having the strength to turn for a reply I said, "I went for a walk."

I headed to my room knowing that the chemical restraint is about to be administered again.

This time my body felt like that of a ten ton brick.

Around 1 AM, I awoke to a cramp in my back. No matter what position, the cramp worsened. The muscles in my back had decided they were going to revolt.

My back started to arch off the bed as if my umbilical cord was still connected and a strong force was lifting me off the bed.

From the side my body was arched from the crown of my head down to the heals of my feet.

Tears rolling down my forehead, clogging my sinus, I began to suffocate. My wind pipe was being cut off.

Fresh from my death experience, the feeling of death besieged me. Relieved that all this was over. The nightmare of killing my friend.

A nurse opened my door to wake me up for my 6 AM Doctor's appointment.

With a panic in her voice she said, "OMG David. How long have you been this way?"

With my best efforts I, "gag gag gagagga gagaga gagag "

I was fucking choking to death in my own tears.

The nurse ran to get the Dr. He asked the same dipstick question, "How long have you been this way?"

I was pulling off the perfect Exorcist move and the tears gurgling in my throat were a good devil's voice.

The DR pushed a benadryl pill under my tongue, and after a few minutes the Dr gave me a shot of benadryl.

My body started to relax back down to the bed. My vision was beyond blurred, then suddenly my belly started to cramp.

I began to curl up into the fetal position. My head that was arched backwards had transitioned to my chin forcing into my collarbone.

The saving grace is that I could speak.

The Dr asked, "Was there anything special that you were thinking about before you started to enter optonus?"

I said to the best my tongue could muster, "Tomato People."

The Dr stopped writing and looked up at me.

He had no idea that in my head I was curing the bastard for him giving me such a toxic cocktail I said, "Yeah."

After about 30 minutes, I was back to carrying the ten ton brick with my head in the correct position.

I began to tell the Dr about the visions while bent like a Popsicle stick.
The dream started with me standing next to a thick forest of pine trees.
I had this strong feeling of running into the forest till I disappeared into the woods.

As I was running into the forest, the trees got thicker and thicker, the sky darken to the point of almost night.

Starting to bump trees as I got deeper, a meadow opened up leaving encircled by the thick layer of trees.

The grass under my feet appeared too thick, and then the blades of grass twirled into stalks, that soon wove leaves that grew into tomatoes that acted like muscles.

With a near giggle the Dr asked, "Tomatoes", and I replied, "Yep. Tomatoes."

The Dr placed me on a welfare check every 15 minutes, and he left.

If I would not have returned from the woods, I would not have survived.

I wanted to run into the forest and disappear. I wanted so badly for things to be different.

The next day, I was taken down for an EEG. They pinned in my scalp a bunch of electrodes.

Evidently the test went well, the Dr that was assigned to evaluate my recordings walked into my room.

He asked me if I had ever been given an EEG before, and I replied, "No. Why?"

To my surprise the Dr said, "I just wanted to met the person with the finest alpha waves that I have ever seen."
Without missing a beat I asked, "Does this mean I can go?"

In 1978, the movie, "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" was released.
 https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0080391/

My parents were faced with a 1.5 million dollar wrongful death law suit from my friends parents.

My parents decided to admit me for long term observations at Peachford.

Dr Stewart from Emory had set up an adolescent treatment facility.

Dr Lyndon Waugh was my assigned Dr. He was a recent Emory graduate too.

In the first few weeks that I was there, the staff recorded in the activities log, that DL was leading an anti-Peachford movement.

For example: I asked Dr Stewart, "If we are hear for our health, why do you let them smoke cigarettes?"

The Dr takes the cigarettes away, the adolescents get mad at me, and I point them to the Dr who actually took their cigarettes away.

I met my best friend of Coco Beach asshole fame Grayson at Peachford.

When he arrived at the facility, the adolescent community had already bestowed the title of Doctor upon me.

Gray on his arrival thought I was part of the staff not a patient.

How I cemented the title of Dr was when Lou Lawson was having a panic attack.

I asked Lou, "Can you hear me?', and Lou responded, "Un Huh."

I said, "Lou. You are not having a seizure." "Make a fist with both your hands." "As you tighten your grip, take a deep breath."

After about 5 minutes of breathing exercises, Lou was able to relax.

I saw her outside Peachford. She hugged my neck, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "Thank you for curing me.", and I said, "You cured yourself."

While confined at Peachford, my friend that died parents' lawyer deposed me.

Before we started, I asked them if they realized that they are asking a person that is in a mental ward to testify to the truth.

Hearing their words while thinking to myself, "And they call me crazy."

In May of 1978, I achieved the highest level number 4.

I asked, "Since I am level 4, when do I get to go home."

Dr Stewart answered, "Even though you are ready to go home, your parents are not ready."

Dr Stewart was referring to a recent family therapy where my father berated my mother.

In that therapy session my father said to my mother, "If David did not look so much like me, I would not be here. You know Charles is Waymond Elrod's son, and Lawrence is John Heyser's son.'

So I said, "Well then, I do not give a fuck, and  you should give them my bed in here."

In that meeting, I went from level 4 to seclusion in a small concert room with a solid safety door.

After my car wreck, my mother hand taught me about our insurance policies, and I knew the limits out of pocket and max coverage.

Knowing how insurance works, I made a statement that was sure to land me in isolation.

By going from low rent number 4, all the way down into seclusion, my daily amount billed to insurance was over $1500 per day, in 1978.

The first day was the hardest. Sleeping on a foam mattress that is removed with breakfast, was cold.

To ensure that I could keep up the high cost per day, every time I heard the door open to the seclusion area, I would sit up and perform the motions that appeared like I was tossing an imaginary rubber ball against the wall.

On the third day, I heard the door open letting in a chatter from the adolescent community.

They staff and adolescents had voted to returned back to community, and they all came to get me, imaginary rubber ball and all.

I refused. Stuck it out for a 4th, a cost of $6,000 in four days. Me at level 4 would take three months to spend $6K.

What the Doctors, staff, and community did not realize is that by my calculations the limits on my policy have been exhausted.

After two weeks of tight one to one, Dr Stewart said that things were better at home, and I was ready for discharge. A miracle, I was cured, at the lowest level.

In the late 1970, the insurance business was a different beast. Shepard Convention Services had really good insurance. We were all rich kids with good insurance.

The money out of pocket to my parents was about the price of a good car in 1978.

Grayson Dey says that after I left, the whole place changed, the rules were not even close to the same.

In my letter to Michelle Victoria I mention that her definition of Guru is different that mine.

Over the years many people have bestowed titles upon me like at Peachford, the adolescents called me Doctor. I learned from Emory's best, and at IBM, many called me Guru, saying Dave has forgotten more than most people will ever know.

Years after leaving IBM, I went to Dr Waugh's office. I met with him.

Reminded him who I am, but he said he did not remember me.

I told him that I reached the fifth management layer from the top of IBM.

Dr Waugh asked, "The IBM?', so I asked, "Is there another?", dipstick.

I gave him an abstract print with a personalized hand drawn KnoWell on the back.

Dr. Waugh autographed a copy of his book, "Tired of yelling", and I gave it to Star.
https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/502550

As you KnoWell over the past two decades my life has been a whirlwind of change, and out of the swirl emerged the most amazing person that I have ever met, and that person is you.

When I trip and fall in my own insecurities or quantum leaps, you have always been there to help me up and brush me off with words of encouragement.

If not for the many hours that we brainstormed at the Tavern, the KnoWell would never have emerged.

Some of the best times of my life were at the Tavern, listening to your brainstorms. The frequency of the Sun.
http://www.lynchphoto.com/copywrite

As you endure your recent life changes, I reach out my hand to you, offering in return 10 fold the help that you have given me.

As I said the day before this past Valentine's Day, "You are the Love of my life."

You are truly the essence of Love.

Forever Yours,
David








"People are in a hurry, and they do not listen, and no one ever takes the time to..." ~Komodo 2023