SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0335
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START ILLUSION:
People have asked me why I am not able to put my life story into a better order, by both subject as well as chronologically. I feel that as of yet, I have not given a tremendously good response to their queries, and it is time to rectify the matter on this blog.
After the disaster that wipes out humanity on a physical level, in 5124, if series of days were counted up as they are presently, until this year is reached, there are several hundred groups or clubs that the greatest shamans of present times would marvel at, dedicated to surviving the catastrophe in the only way possible. The word used in this time era is dream travel, but most logical folks know quite well that it is not so easy to just go and escape off into a dream and permanently move into a new realm where the impending doom is no longer a threat. Still, just one hundred years ago, there was no mass transit around the world, no internet, bare bones communications, mediocre medicare care when compared with present times, and we all know I could type this list on and on and on. So it really is not that huge of a mind stretch to realize that in just another one hundred years, or perhaps a little longer than this, what seems so impossible right now, is anything but, especially when the powerful discovery of STM comes into existence, converting the current world of astrophysics into the dynamic true new age of mind realization, or the becoming aware while awake, that we really are in a larger reality around us, and that this new reality is totally and completely manipulative with a few simple developed added new human skills. For reasons that may or may not become clear by the end of this blog, I am one of these awake people, back here in 2012, through STM, (Space-Time-Mind). Let me elaborate please.
Do not think as you read on, that things have changed in any way, with me, my blogs, you, your interpretations of these blogs and words, or anything else. Things have not changed at all. I merely have an overwhelming desire to show you all a little cute trick that might just explain why I do not put a lot of stock and importance in chronological order, especially in my own life as it relates to me and only me. Any one of you on the other hand, would be totally foolish to adopt any of this outlandish behavior, since you are quite obviously not me, and not in my shoes.
There was a Breyers ice cream BOGO sale at the Winn Dixie store and I had a rain-check to purchase six half gallon ice cream boxes because during the sale on the final day, they were out of the brand I wanted to buy. I told some neighbors who are nice to me where I live and who I trust, my recent problems with the mail and the noise at the PHA building, when we ran into each other in the parking lot. Because of this 'tattle tailing' that I did, a US Coast Guard chopper struck me going over my position while driving to the store. I left work today and drove to my local grocery store for some ice cream. Because of many problems recently, things spilled over at work, and my boss, Jess, caught me swearing in the warehouse to my friend Clay, and on top of my problems at home, now the day is rotten at work. Back at home, I am having major problems. The enemy went further back to punish me for telling some truth at the Winn Dixie, to just shy of the holidays, and poisoned me with a super chemtrail attack over the store and made me ill. They were so angry that they also had the mail carrier deliver some mail to a wrong apartment, and influenced the resident it was delivered to not to place it in the re-mail or the security guard desk for proper redelivery. My blogs continue to counterstrike what is being done to me, so they counterstrike me and this cycle goes on relentlessly. During all of this and all the way around the hypersphere, the interconnectedness between myself and the All Mighty 'spirit' that owns and reigns and rules all things in one form or another, is a parallel ongoing situation, connected in some dimensions more than others, in some ways one way,l and in others, other and different ways. Still, this crosses the STM barrier naturally in the effect-mode that all causation in fact does, and leads me to this particular case to attempt to change things for the better. This never results because of what I term the Huntington Curse, yet still, hope burns eternal. I endured two years of total misery in Florida, and am finding there is no answer in moving, a discussion with Clarence Harris from Congressman Andrews' Office, has been proven to be true. I got talked into leaving my trailer and moving in with some incredible people. When I did this, they made me do illegal things, threatened me with fire and violence, and a lot more, and the past three and a half years now have been hell, in three addresses in Florida and at two addresses in Hammonton with a family straight out of the gates of hell. I blogged all throughout this and told the world or tried to, all that I could, and all who would listen at all. Chris Bennett put me onto blogging when I was at Cifaloglio working security detail on the weekends. This is where I learned to blog and was told how this might be used to fight my enemies by getting my story out to the public world, exposing the horrendous injustices done to me. I got this job after Jimmy Stone fired me at Griffin Pipe. This is where I met the god, Psyche Myrathus, human world identity and AKA Mister Steven Murray. Skipping many major things to compress the story yet keeping in the needed stuff, there was the spurious Callio family of Atlantic city, New Jersey. This family is not like any family I have ever had contact with. They can do impossible things, and have tentacles that stretch into unfathomable places. As a result of my poking around learning things about this family, there were two murders. I believe that in addition to the family of mystery, the great secret society known as the Masons may have been behind both of them or at least one of them, and I believe that a powerful connection has existed all along with one of these persons, one was my mother, and the other in question, my best friend, David, and Masonic lodge member. He did the unthinkable early in the nineties, giving me a secret chart that shows my connections back to Sam Huntington in the 18th century, his connections to Mary Stuart the Queen of Scotland, and her direct lineage back to the royal families of Jesus, Joesph, Mary, and King David before that. This man was poisoned slowly in diners, and the murderer got away with it and lives and works in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to this day, a man who also committed insurance fraud, and causing the death of David's mother when she was left with nothing after he stole this mans 90 thousand dollar life insurance money. The Callio family was the reason David changed executors, I was on the list, but he changed it to this man Johnathan Schau. David was able to carry out his main mission however, two powerful things. He gave me the secret knowledge of who and what I really am, and then with the lame excuse of wanting to see a musical group in early August of 1986 in Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG, we drove into the big apple late one summer night and he went into a night club while I waited for him in the car, relaxing in the passenger seat. I was destined to meet my daughter, age sixteen on this night, and did not come to know she was my daughter for about 22 years. The Callio family is related distantly to her. Because of the numerous threats to the established order of this planet, after David and I met in November of 1985, they went back to 1983 and poisoned me in my home in Atco. I had a detailed discussion about this medical situation, on some transdimensional level, leading me to go on a very special trip to Orlando, Florida. This led up to the inventions in use in 2012, as well as other ones in the coming decade, such as the ® Compufone. On top of that, transdimensional effects cause this invention to alter the entire way humans live and travel on Planet earth, after it is worked out and released in 2029. I decided to use the invention in a different way, and found myself sliding out of phase and living many lives simultaneously. Eventually, I chose to pick one and I was living in a room in the sun, in Voorhees Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG. It was May of 1980, and things were not like they were in the future or the past, it was like nothing I ever had known. I tried hard to forget anything else, knowing that if I could maintain an erased memory, I could move forward in the new time line and live a relatively normal life. However, five weeks later, all of that completely changed when I went to sleep and woke up seven hours later from the most powerful dream in the universe. A giant long dark haired goddess with the most beautiful voice in the quanta possibility range was singing a weird song to me called, “Love is for Carpenters”. I moved both forward and backward upon becoming awake. Part of me was determined to alter some horrifying future that appeared to be looming out there, while another part of me was back in the 1960's trying to survive the life of a child and knowing I had done this countless times, but determined and hell bent, to do it right this time, so that the future would happen differently and all the horrors would not come to pass, by again, an altered time line, based on new or more correct series of personal decisions. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, like any strong vivid dream, even written down, the truth and power of this so-called future existence where I am an adult, faded deeper and deeper, and my school guidance counselor convinced me I needed to go to special education as a result, and that this was all just my imagination, like the old Motown song, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit. Give me a dam break.
Now this is the best I can do people, but it is why I do not perceive time in some orderly manner and fashion as you all seem lucky enough to be doing. So sue me, Doctor Garrigan, and screw your fucking thesis, as I never told you to use me as your test fucking subject, old pal.
Then we have something called the double horizon knowledge barrier or the DHKB for short. The more any of us ever know and learn, the more we also come to know and learn that there is a dozen bigger and greater things to know and learn. This DHKB never can be dissolved, so in essence, the smarter we are, the dumber we get. In ratio to those that really do not ever learn how to read and write, we are smarter yes, but in a knowledge-constant of a sort, we grow endlessly more aware of our dumber state. We grow a foot to learn there is twelve more feet, we grow a mile to learn there is twelve more miles. This is why science and cutting edge technology is altering second by second, and will never catch itself, it is literally the biblical example the dog chasing his tail, or returning to its own vomit to be exact. It really is like chasing the wind, it is quintessential idiocy.
There is no real way of telling my nightmare story, but maybe this light year story, despite showing you there is another twelve light years ahead of it, will at least shed some dull light on things, just enough perhaps to illuminate closed minds in the smallest fraction, so as to make peeps not hate me and hut me quite so much. If not, oh well, I tried, like you told John Denver to do, George Burns.
I am not really going to blow the world apart by posting more transdimensional stuff on the U-T. Well, maybe a small little thing will be up soon, that will correspond with this blog, just so peeps will know there is nothing phony about this nightmare hell, AKA the Huntington Curse. No cuzz Don, not the Mason Curse, go back to Cheltenham and make a new video, YO, yellow crime scene tape and all, surfer boy Fonty Carkicks. Oh right, this could be made up. Folks, 300 Einstein's could not make this story up, in the name of the LORD. If you ever believed a thing, take that to TD Bank, Regis.
Show me the way to go home, old harmonizer song, because I am indeed quite tired, and need to go to bed. Still, there is so much to tell, the gods, will this story ever write itself to a back cover? Well, the old Botbar vehicle situation recorder reports verify that time and event races ahead of the possibility to ever get it all documented and successfully recorded. After-all lads and lassies, this is not the RIAA, this is the HC! BYE-BYE KALI, 4-now, but I'll BB.
END ILLUSION: DUH.
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