SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0231
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
BLOG
SUBTITLE 4:
“SKY-FLY-REFLECTIONAL
MORNING HAIR SEASONAL SIEGE”
BEGINNING
OF BLOG:
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Work
is hell. Weather is hell. Life is hell. Death siege is off the scales
hell, things are mighty mother fucking bad-ass bad for mother fucking
me, me' peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Since
“THEY” don't want to mother fucking back this shit hell nightmare
off against me, and until MAGNESONIC KICKS IN WITH A MAJOR FUCKING
COUNTERSTRIKE, YO, I am forced to use the retaliation of the tell, or
the 'RED-HIGH' Roulette Code Attack.
All
day, and worse in the 'AM', DONNALIGHTIMETRAVELERS, was major aerial
siege, with huge monster fucking AM chemtrail action, just west of my
area. So Jason Forest of WFMU, and Aquarius dirt bag fun makers; will
things really be so ALL RIGHT IN THE AM, or is Miss Wescott gonna'
come and rescue poor Salvador Ventura from his daddy's teasing, over
in mother fucking Princeton, New Jersey, back in cunt lapping
1966?????? Sal, I know that you were sent back to 1966, to show me
the magic shit that you do with your fingers, as without my learning
about this, I would not have been as readily able to communicate with
the lightning goddess Diana Arteemis, dog!!!!! Hence, your peeps
had to know about 1983, back in 1966; something that the 'STAYERS'
can only dream about.
So
I will be known in the beginning of the thirties as the dude who
cracked Reflectional Time, huh Sherri-Lee Pote Saturn? Wow, I am so
impressed with myself, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!!! Maybe my
reflectional HAIR has time traveling significance to the 1980
copyrighted song in my name called, “THE MORNING LIGHT”. I mean
my mom knew I had a ten year old kid, and kept her rotten fucking
mouth shut, as did Mizz Yellow-sheets. Ziggy and the Reflections, how
about Ronnie and the Jovi's; the gods cut me a break. A child can see
it without Trump or any other of his kissed fucking ass mirrors,
HAIR-AM. Tell me this is all a bunch of shit peeps, do it in good
conscience now, some would say, GOD is watching, and others know,
RULING THE EMPIRE, as well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
102 stories and 102 name-number count, gee. Then there are the magic
lyrics of Donna, huh Jason, and it is not on any HAIR album I have
ever heard, except 4 yours.
“I
MET A BOY CALLED FRANK MILLS, ON SEPTEMBER TWELVE, RIGHT HERE, IN
FRONT OF THE WAVERLY; BUT UNFORTUNATELY, I LOST HIS ADDRESS. HE WAS
LAST SEEN WITH HIS FRIEND, A DRUMMER HE RESEMBLES, GEORGE HARRISON OF
THE BEATLES, BUT HE WEARS HIS HAIR TIED IN A SMALL BOW AT THE BACK. I
LOVE HIM, BUT IT EMBARRASES ME, TO WALK DOWN THE STREETS WITH HIM. HE
LIVES IN BROOKLYN SOMEWHERE, AND WEARS THIS WHITE CRASH HELMET. HE
HAS GOLDEN CHAINS ON HIS LEATHER JACKET, AND ON THE BACK, ARE WRITTEN
THE NAMES, MARY, AND MOM, AND HELLS ANGELS. I WOULD GREATFULLY
APPRECIATE IT IF YOU SEE HIM, TELL HIM; I'M IN THE PARK WITH MY
GIRLFRIEND, AND PLEASE; TELL HIM ANGELA AND I, DON'T WANT THE TWIN
TOWERS BACK, JUST HIM”.
On
the Astral Plane, TWO DOLLARS means TWIN TOWERS. Gee, Al-kate-a, what
will you fucking prick bitch eating bastards think up next to totally
fuck my cock sucking life up at the speed of fucking light cubed,
BRAHHHHHHH??????????????????????? Queen Kate, gimme a break
MOVERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
BLOG ENDS, OR SO IT DID IN ONE TIME LINE A WHILE BACK IN TWENTY-TEN.
But now, we are going t move along with a little tale of the future,
Mark Mohr, and others reading this dude's blog, both now, in the
past, and in the future, all the exact same thing of course, on the
fourth dimension. So how does one move onto this 4th, or
for that matter, the 5th dimension, some just may be
wondering? Well, you don't. You need to do what normal mathematicians
rarely use in normal every day calculations, you need to skip from
the 3rd dimension, over to the 6th dimension.
Now how the mother fucking hell does one do that? Well, YOU don't.
Your mind sort of does this little parlor trick. Your mind does not
belong to you the way that you have always believed it does, folks.
It exists as a separate piece of individuality while awake in 5th
dimensional hyperspace and indeed is you and your unique persona
while you read this and right up from now until you are planted into
the ground or burned to ashes in the crematorium. Poor little mother
fucking you, MOUNTAINPEN, you are about to be fucking bombed out of
existence over the next months and years, and you are too stupid to
realize it. But up here in the fucking future, I know it, as that
future is now to me, and this present that once was, in now my past.
Donna, you will die in the spring of 2012, and your family will blame
it on 911, the very mysterious song you sang that only I have, and
maybe some of Jason Forrest's pals from fucking cunt WFMU. It
certainly was not really a part of the real world HAIR ALBUM, not in
this parallel universe or dimension. Ever since you were ten years
old, Donna, you had a cigarette in your mouth, and old Andy Gaines
let you smoke in the basement of that large Roxberry section of
Boston, Massachusetts, home that he had, after you were in your
teens. How 911 fits into your so called death from lung cancer, sure
blows me away, my princess. Ann King told me that my oldest daughter
is major trouble and to stay as far away from her as I possibly can
for the rest of my life. Little did I know just how much she knew
about her distant cousin back in 2009 while I lived in that FBI
agent's home with her and her daughter Dawn-Marie, over on 13th
Street, huh Agent Steve Caruso, of Austin, Texas, or have you moved
since those lovely days, kind sir? In any event, I hoped that law
enforcement would realize a little bit of what I am up against all
these years since Paula King came over to my apartment and raped me a
second time, in June of 1996. Funny how 1980 and 2008 have inverted
numbers and these two years were the only big years in recent times,
for the Phillies Baseball Club to win the World Series. Then another
set of inverse years were the two years of my dam rape, 1969 at age
14 and a half, and then 1996 when I was 41 and a half, hell, even the
age was inverted digitally, and I blogged these truths before Nick
abducted me in my sleep and took me into the future to see this great
game, or really not the game, but the date that the celebration
occurred which was on Halloween Day, as were the dates that I sent my
musical projects to the Copyright Office in 1994, 2005, and 2007. So
this also means that I blogged this before the great and late Harry
Callas copied my talking about the INVERTED YEARS OF THE PHILLIES
SUCCESS, and hay, that's cool, I don't mind, I am quite flattered,
just as I am flattered by Diana Ross's chain reaction, and so,
indeed, that really is the way it goes, Ziggy Malyeska. I am
flattered more than anything however, by my daughter's 1997 song, as
there is no way she did not send me a message that she remembered who
she was at that time, and also that my 1983 song, GITYA, was all a
part of some super game that this eternal and all mighty teen queen
goddess was operating in and through. Still, this goddess is very
highly dangerous, all anyone needs to do to prove me right, is to
read the FIRST OLD TESTAMENT, written down long before MORIANITY was
ever penned, or started way up in 1995, only now it is back in 1995.
I asked if we could start trying to get along earlier today, go
ahead, hjust read my blog from earlier on this date, and then read up
through here, and voile' folks; I guess we all got to learn what HER
answer was to that request, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Well,
so much for forgiving all mighty goddesses, great hotels with or
without vacancies, copyright offices in Washington, 600-13, DOC, and
all of the rest of the filed categories of SUPER GIRL, JENNY JOHNSON,
or SUPER 8, WOW, what a discovery this all was, I think I'm in a fast
talking monotone brain freeze on an island off of Venezuela,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE
good folks, and remember, it is better to have loved and lost, than
to have never loved at all. This is shy I had the wonderful lovely
Donna, do my tune that I wrote in 1977, and copyrighted, called,
“LOST LOVE”. Well from Dante's inferno to Dogtown, and from Lawn
Mower Men to dogs learning how to whack weeds under blaring hot suns
for minnina kalpa, the best thing for me to do now is to realize that
I can do nothing. She all ready proved that SHE could create the
entire creation, off everybody except for eight magical Jeanette
highview people, and then send her best friend to the bottom of the
bay for stealing the boy she liked so much in non hyperspace. Laugh
time, Ashley Tinsdale, and all other hanging Huntington's and
Hammonton's.
See
you in the fucking ass funny papers, elevator man, Jimmy Cement
Business Stuart, YO, WHAAAAAAAAAAA. Fly specks, yeah, you go,
sanitarium owner, you knew the real shit all along and without any
giant wabbits, so a real WHAAAAAAAA to you!
NOW
I WILL END THIS TRANSMISSION, KIND FOLKS.
5555555555555555555555555555555
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