SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0474
UNBELIEVABLE
AS IT MAY SOUND, ON THIS
NIGHT
OF TWELVE JULY, IN 2012, HERE I AM.
STARTING
THE BLOG:
Folks,
there is a problem, and it may not be able to be solved. On top of
that, I tend to get rammy from time to time and blame everyone else
possible around me, and forget to blame the biggest bungler in the
group, good old ass hole, ME. It is coming to my attention that there
is break in a seal that normally protects my home in the subatomic
world, from another far removed wing that is rented out. A few peeps
know what is being said here, most do not. There is a break in the
seal, and it is my fault for not inspecting something and sealing it
up, and letting stuff get this far out of my control. Talk about
total apologies. I will not be wise cracking or making jokes on this
late night on this very special date. I feel like crap, and I should
be shot, not physical so much, but I am the only person who knows
something really gigantic that is happening, well, not totally true,
there is at least one other on the planet, maybe a few others as
well, and none of this really matters,, when it is all my own fault,
Mister Buffet. You were right all along, and I was making fun of you
from time to time Jimmy, sorry sir. I am a huge ass hole whom should
be sent to eternal hell.
Let
me start trying to elaborate. I became very ill a long time ago, and
being a horny little prick at the medical institute had nothing to do
with any of it, at least I do not think so after serious meditation,
only a lot of things crystallized for me at five o'clock this
afternoon, while reflecting on a quick conversation that I had with
my pal, Tony Bonj yesterday, over in Port Saint Lucie, let me leave
things at quick ending points so only those that it matters, will
have a tiny clue about this blog, and most will say it is a waste of
time reading the Mountainpen tonight, and that is totally fine and
cool.
I
am at the quintessential part of psychological ambivalence tonight,
and if it was not for my knowledge about future QM stuff, I would be
as insane as the Jason Forrest Internet Club, believes me to be. On
one hand, I know that I have received the greatest compliment in the
world, and here I am ranting on like a total D-bag earlier, not
knowing my stupid ass from a hole in the darn ground. Still, I am
hundreds of years ahead of the dudes and duddesses in the
laboratories and think tank at 11:55 PM on this night of 12 July,
2K12. A song was fittingly done about me in 1977, and I realize I
indeed am a slow dancer. If I was quicker on the draw, life might be
a bit different for me, but some genius folks all ready figured this
much of the Morianity story out by now, especially anyone serious
enough to perform any real meaningful blog archiving into my past
where this all started to get told,m and I just followed the facts as
best I could, Fonty. I did tell of a powerful dream about a house on
the Pennsylvania highway, Bobby-V and some really unspeakable things
going on that need not be repeated. This, if I was not a slow dancer
to start with, was my ultimate clue, only it buzzed by me at the
speed of life. The only real meaningful next missed event was late in
oh-eight or early oh-nine, when I made a K-Mart purchase. I am no
music theory genius, but now I really know what I only thought I knew
24 hours ago, about why the AMA has been trying to remove any
evidence that I exist, by separating me from a necessary medication,
on numerous occasions. For those that are scratching their heads, you
are supposed to be, this is not meant for you. Boy have I screwed
things up, and it is beyond any possible apology I suppose at this
point. Still, I need to tell about Tony Bonj and me yesterday, it was
but a flash, a moment in time, but most likely the most powerful
moment in my life in decades. This really cool nice man, popped his
head inside where Ryan and I were recreating a 1983 song called,
“Girl, I'll Tell You Anything”, and this was not written for the
unborn, so it is not about you, Leticia Tilley. Still, 'Hay girl', if
that makes you happy tonight, but I need to focus big time on the
situation here and not waste any time.
Tony
was not joking or kidding, and I knew it. He said to me that he
recognized something. He knows every hit record that ever left the
RIAA starting line. He is not the guy next door or down the street,
day dreaming of becoming the next big rapper or hip art. It did not
hit me until five tonight, even after I told him that I wrote this in
1983, and even after he said he was just messing with me, he doesn't
strike me as someone who does a lot of it with a serious face, and
despite the way it happened, and I could go on with nuances, but
won't do it to spare my readers the mundane hassle of sifting longer
and doing more head scratching. He of course recognized a tune and a
voice, I know that, there is no doubt in my mind, as the sampler was
pitched to make copies of “You'll Be Crossing Over” throughout
the song, from the great 2nd Sarah Jacobson
re-materializing special lab technician, all created and worked into
existence, in complex quantum foams that I wouldn't even try and
explain to Steve Hawking, so forget further crap on a blog, right
near the dream house with the not so nice activities on the highway,
Jesse. In any event, there was no missing the lightning bolt that
struck in my mind seven hours ago, and I was trying to figure out how
to say all this, and then I realized that I needed to just talk and
speak from my heart and forget about anyone reading this that these
words are not meant for. As I said I am not Mister Music Theory, but
I am not tone deaf, and after the deal yesterday, I woke up and
realized what is really going on, and that is, what I sort of feared
as this thing gained in velocity and progressing strength over about
a half decade or so. I suppose in one way, what I wrote about a Radio
Shack employee in the very early nineteen-eighties, by the name of
Mister Dewitt, kind of applies here, in so far as accidents and
errors. Some of it was intentional on two parties, some by one or the
other, but in any event, this all happened, and pretending that it
did not is quite Dairy Queenish at this point, at least in my mind,
to quote my old late island German uncle, HG. All I did was sit in a
chair on the eleventh of July while an old cassette tape from 1983
was used to sample both a song and a voice. Everything else was pure
quantum reaction, but it broke some powerful barriers. I know that
because of several things that I did, as well as my meeting an
Exploratron named Everett Simpson who owned the Warwick Auto Sales
dealership in Magnolia, New Jersey, on where else but the great WH
Pipe again, but anyway, this all is part of a grand group of events
that created this entire situation. I totally know this.
Unfortunately I feel this has gone past the point of no return, and
if I did not feel that way, I would not do anything other than end
Morianity at this point, and take down my YOUTUBE account from the
internet. I am not going to, I am going to do what needs to be done,
not for any human being or to prove a thing, but to seal up a tunnel
that is connecting a special home. The QM folks of today would laugh
at all of this, but they are cave dinosaurs as far as I am concerned
and have a long way to go, because there boundaries are their
laboratories, proving their hypocrisy and ignorance at an epitome.
This tunnel has come to me in many other parts of hyperspace, one I
can think of in particular, where it became another great roadway or
linelane as we say on the Astral Plane, about the huge highway
systems there, both provincial as well as inter-provincial. Again, I
play the odds, and I know what I am talking about, and it only
matters to me that things seal up before the whole thing blows, as
when and if it does, it most definitely will make December 21 of this
year and any of human kind's ideas about this Mayan date, pale to the
realer more intense realities.
Now
that this is all out of the way, I cannot honestly tell a soul
whether all of morianity is wrapping up or not, it might be, it might
not be, it is really that simple Colorado John H. Any really astute
person that is following Morianity, can wonder if any of this is true
or the ravings of a mad man. Well, in wondering, why not come to the
table armed and prepared with some real Earth shattering truth. If
you begin reading at the beginning, despite this all not being in
some human concept's perfect idea of item or chronological order; and
go to the end of this blog, it may take a year to read, but you will
know then and only then, that this is all real and totally true. I
wish it was not. Still, just how does Everett Simpson play into it.
Well, he started all of the air stuff with his own airplane after I
had moved into Norris Avenue in Atco, on 02/01/1983. Then there were
the federal agents that were clearly heard and recorded on tape, as
they were bugging my AT&T telephone, and whoever has my life
journal now, has all of this. It does not matter, not really. There
is no one alive who is going to sift through seven thousand cassette
tapes of wild and weird stuff, let's be real. All I can do is tell
you that I went to the home of his employee, Herb Letts in December
of 1982, and saw something unbloggable in the basement. It is beyond
saying that he stopped time and made the moon vanish, or anything
else, as I really am not here to blow a mind or create any kind of a
shock value tonight. Still, it was unlike me, but I did remove
something that I planned to return to him. However, this item led me
to experiencing eight million minnina kalpa of human time all within
a few seconds, and this caused a tremendous glandular dysfunction,
but the quantum reality is that this had to happen, or I would not be
here in Florida with both blogs and a YT Channel, and I would never
have experienced the conversation with Tony. So, this all had to
happen, to equalize dual realities with diametrically force opposing
energies. Just know that this all had to happen, right down to Jim
Pratt on Colony 256. This exists as a Phase-4 truth, and came to be
through a human, me, on 24 C-90 cassette tapes, sent on October
Merry-one, of 1994. This says pretty much about poor Donna's white
boy, for right now, and later on, more blanks can always be filled in
as needed.
There
is no excuse for my rotten behavior or the things I have said. If I
am going to say anything bad, then this negates the words. If I
cannot remain calm and objective despite Everett and George and Herby
and WAS of Magnolia, and other incredible inventions that all fit
into this gereat box in many sideways positions, then the words I say
are without form and just worthless void. I have ranted about former
partners, people I work and live around, distant and close family,
and on and on, and for this I am truly sorry. It only proved that I
was a real git bag, and now, I choose not to be one any longer.
Still, I do need to finish the full-circle event catalog or else,
none of us may ever even know that I did not. QM today says that why
couldn't SSJKK come into the world in each and every generation, from
somewhere? In fact, they've reached the knowledge of knowing that
this must be the case, somewhere. But is this reality right here
around me, indeed, where this did happen? Well, that will be proved
or disproved, by the completion of the event-catalog. As for the
trilogy of the great men of WAS, well, this fits in as a subset in
one truth and a main set in many other truths. Are you Labbers ever
going to extend your boundaries to anywhere near the points that you
preach that you believe? DCR, I am happy that you CO and did not live
to witness this incredible wild mess. Still, I miss a good friend,
and you were one, until the Callio's changed the mix. Don't beat me
up Jan Nace, I break easy. Keep trading your stocks out there in Kali
dude, I'll not even come close to tell you how much I have misbehaved
by your standards.
ENDING
THE BLOG!!!!!!
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