SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0527

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0527

QUARTER PAST NINE AT NIGHT, 25 AUGUST, 2K12

STARTING BLOG:

DEAR FRIENDS AND FOES, l-4, and whoever else is up here, I only post to the site BLOGGER DOT COM, and cannot deal with all the hacking on other sites, I don't blame the sites, but the hackers use them to pick on me, not that they don't also use the Google and the blogger, but it is still a little better, and also, my blogs come out clear, without print overlapping all over the place, and in the same font and page colors that my Office Program Document system is done with, a real perfect cut and paste or CAP job. Welcome all readers from non-Blogger locations of the net, this will be the only place you will now and forever find the poor broken down hard luck seven time loser, Mountainpen. Thank you for reading me here, whoever you are, I know you are here, but that is all I know. I would not want to know more than this, as it oppresses me to see that people read words of wisdom, yet have no desire to be part of the potential largest global change in the history of this third rock from SOL. Well, that's the way it goes, huh Ziggy, from 1969, and it is what is is, huh, DM King from oh-8 and oh-9, all that's left now I suppose is the hot nineties, the pigs on the beach, and the teary eyed Native American Chief, along with three top broadcasting networks doing a far worse thing than taping a few telephone conversations, sampling a voice, and vocoding a harmony or singing track, or two, or three, over the years, oh that horrible freaking Mark Wayne Mohr, WOW, Doctor Stacey. How I love watching you sit in that chair, SH, with all the answers, and here I am, a total nobody, realizing how to actually operate the multiversal hyperspace channel, sort of the ultimate multiversal video game, after all, as the word implies, it is a 5-D video game. WOW. Anyway, no I am not mad or sad or glad or any of the silly human emotions, only totally willing and submissive, to my ALL MIGHTY TEEN QUEEN GODDESS, THE ALL MIGHTY SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE. In any event good people, and bad ones also; not that I am your judge; I need to tell you what happened to me here at Fort Pierce, Florida, from dusk last night right up through dawn today, 'all night long', to quote the great song from days gone by. My wonderful STROBE LIGHT, really, SSJK's strobelight, was with me all night, making colors and sky patterns in the clouds, between the clouds, and from the clouds down to the ground. All night long, this went on. When I went to sleep around nine this morning until well into the afternoon, I had a few powerful exploratronic experiences, one involving my ALL MIGHTY GODDESS, SSJK, AND HER WONDERFUL STROBELIGHT, who lives as the entity Diana Arteemis, on the ASTRAL-PLANE, the subatomic realms that not even the greatest physicists have a real clue about yet here in 2012.

I only remember broken pieces, despite the pieces all being far more real and present than anything in this life around me supposedly right now at at twenty minutes shy of ten at night on August 25^th of 2012.

Well, down to cases. Like everyone else, I too am subject to thinking I have things all figured out, and still am not one bit closer than anyone else to figuring out what is going on around me that has caused my life to be what it has been, ever since my days, just going back to my employment at the RPL Sound Recording studios from the end of July in 1979 through the 11^th night in March in 1981. Also I messed up on a blog several dozen blogs back, and said that in this parallel universe here, I was living at Atco in 1983 while still working there, for Ernie Merker and the Goodman Brothers. I was living in Atco on Chuck Norris Avenue at number 134, but NO, I had been out of the studio since nearly two years, moving into there on February 1, 1983, and plugging my PRIVECODE XTRA TERR strange machine into the telephone system, just ask the copyright Office about this wild ride story, as it makes the NASCAR ROLLER COASTERS pale to a rolling pea in a child's sandbox, in comparison. Now that this error hgas been corrected and all of this is out of the way, it is my sincere regret, that my life has up set so many people all over, they all know who they are, one has moved to World Labs and is living the life there that she was robbed out of here at the ripe old age of about 29 or 30. She did not like my vocoding work much either, only the copy living up there, does not remember, as to her sense of truth, this never happened and she never said what she said to the press regarding that. Anyway, it seems that I have much to be sorry about, and it always seems to involve my wonderful and lovely friends of the Subatomic Briggbase, in their counterpart human forms. In this wild dream last night or really late this morning or early afternoon; I was back again at the foot of those horrible stairs, and Nick was there with me, his future wife again, at the age of two, in that lit up hallway area just past the main living space of the home. This time it was him that she did not want me to see or hear, telling me something. He blurted out, “Yeah yo, just like the first day of summer a while back when you tried to tell him something and I kept walking closer so you couldn't. Then I remembered that it was not Vasco De Gama, but him, in that June 21 of oh-8 interaction, before Dawn was shortly released from the Seacaucus, New Jersey Rehabilitation clinic, with help from a genius plan. Yes, now I really do know what is going on, and am powerless to do one thing to stop it. At least she will know I got the message when she reads this blog down the road, or down his great Academy Road. Well, it's not electric Avenue, but then, I am not getting any higher, so I guess that is some positive out of all of this hell all these decades. Yes, another great pair Nicky, is the top end Shack, or is that the ones. Well, no need to get lovely Corn-rose all excited here, whooo-oh-oh-ohhhh, and yes, it really is my daughter's strobelight in her human form. Suddenly, talk about wall writing, he seemed to be hit with a major amount of electrical energy coming from this thing that my daughter is holding in her hand. His words to me as he turned to face me after being jolted still ring in my ear hours later, “Now it's back to your 1968 Westmont school again to steal your shoebox Sparky boy”. Then poof, he just vanished. He was gone, as if Elizabeth Montgomery, had twitched her adorable nose, and that was that. Then Gawky told me that he is going to send me to a magic oven that spins and spits out cherry red whine before the great harvest feasts begin. Then he was gone also, just as quickly as he came into the room. Then my daughter walked out of the lit up area and took my hand and led me into a basement and told me to look under a strange old couch of some kind, and when I did, it had my father's treasure charts, along with an open book, some history book dated and copyrighted in the year of 2095. In it were photos of the continental United States, and it was quite a bit different. There was no Florida at all, and the book told how late in the eighties, the entire state was rolled over by an Atlantic tidal wave, that was three hundred feet high, and it never gave details about just what generated it. This is all I can pull up, other than when I awoke it all came flashing back to me without a moment of waking time hesitation. Then it struck me, the powerful dream that TIM had at the HARVEST, in late July, if my memory is correctly serving me, about the devil and the big fight. But it was only after another hour that I came to remember another powerful thing that I don't expect anyone to believe. Tim, is the same character that was on the old television show, and the same age roughly, called, “HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN”, the episode where MARK GORDON falls in love with as he called her before he fell for her, the old barfly. In this episode they were making a movie and the movie was real life, it was truly an awesome episode, and the TIM dude was the one saying to folks, “After a while, crocodile”. Hollywood knows something beyond huge, and I have always known that the Lambrigg Cult of Time Manipulators is beyond my ability to ever really control or even understand. Another thing that ties a lot of wild and weird stuff all together is that while I had forgotten totally, this dream that Tim at the Harvest had and told me about the next day, I had indeed, in my new rewritten song lyrics of this year in 2012, in my old 1983 song, “GITYA”, written a verse about banquet feasts. No one knows these lyrics yet, not even the © Office. While I was being led by the hand by my two year old daughter, to the basement, she said to me in the cutest little voice I ever heard, “don't go to Mexico Daddy, and don't take your stuff down either, or I'll be mad”. What blows my mind more than all of the rest of this blog folks, is that this is the first interaction where she spoke to me at that toddler age, and it is the very same voice that even though the time does not match up in 1988, that said, and again, the © Office has this in their possession, “I KNOW”. Not “I DON'T KNOW”. Still, this was the most amazing day since last night's dusk, of my entire nearly freaking 58 monster years of my monster life, walls or no walls, David Leigh Smith of Haddonfield, NJUSEASMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Screw Benjamin Franklin, YO.

There are many things that none of us know, but I do know that the truth is in the word, and what I mean when I use the word, EXPLORATRONS. It is why all of this has been happening to me and my life, and why this entire world is here, and why the universe is here, and why all that is happening, is happening, or in essence Dawn-Marie King and Ziggy, is the way it goes and is!!!!!!!!

In any case, my wonderful strobelight or DIANA was so good to me, and she has been real good to me now for quite a long while. THE GODS KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU, unfortunately for me, huh Angelique Collins, can't have me too happy, right James Thesis Garrigan????????????????

ENDING BLOG, WHAAAAAAAAAAA.