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FEBRUARY
15, 2014,
SATURDY
AFTERNOON AT 2:10,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
THIS
IS JOURNAL CASSETTE TAPE NUMBER 25,709,
IN EQUIVALENT.
I
just left a parallel universe where a gigantic southern storm had
struck the furthermost south, and Forida was deeply covered in snow
for the first time since humankind settled here and in this universe,
Studio Park Records was still operating and was larger, and Dawn King
was alive and had not passed back on New Years Day of 2011. It was
the same date as over here, but Paul, my ex partner in this ex
business, was down here, for whatever reason, by himself; in Fort
Pierce, along with me, and we were about to make the trek up north to
see Dawn and other family members about some connected business, and
I remember being very unhappy that I had to go back there and deal
with wonderful Dawn King. At the end of this interaction in
hyperspace, or ( dreaming this dream), it was night time, icy cold,
more snow was pouring down as if someone literally was using a sugar
shaker the way one would use a salt or a pepper shaker, the winds
were howling, and it was blizzard conditions. I then said to Paul
right outside of my building, ''And to think I used to say that I'd
never see snow again''. I remember saying this as clearly as a bright
light-bulb Microsucks fucking hack. What assholes you are with this
stupid nonsense. Let's block it again for the duration of this
fucking typed document. If it was not a hack, I could click the
fucking shit on it, and go through the motions and it would not
insist on coming back on over and over again, annoying a blogger who
is trying to concentrate on his mother fucking work. So it is a
hack,and don't bother telling me otherwise, unless you totally know
what is going on, and wish to mother fuckign share, thank you very
much. I am sure only Microsucks Corporation knows what is groping on,
as they might say, one rapist to another, in a daily joke. Don't
think I have not been raped, and molested, and abused, not once, but
on five different occasions while in adolescence. Talk about wanting
to fucking wash your hands, at any height; David Deezy, and the Hip
Hop Rap Gangster Thug World!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DEEDEE
WAS ALL OVER ME BEFORE I WENT TO SLEEP. I was staring at
DIANA, her lovely bright colorful full moon, you know, the Mitsubishi
recognized, new beauty in town, for all old and new kids from early
in 1978. Suddenly a strange vehicle pulled over and parked right
across Avenue B, crossing also over Seventh Avenue, and no one lives
right there, and no one exited the vehicle, and it remained there
with the lights off for five to ten minutes, than drove away. Maybe
some dude picked up some ho and got a fucking quick-off and drove
away, as they would do all the time, back in my neck of the woods, in
a place called, non Roddenberry Camden, New Jersey, with or without
any ESST, or Exploratron-Supermind Society Travelers. Suddenly before
this vehicle drove away, I spoke to my beautiful moon and told her
that I am concerned about this vehicle, and within a minute, she sent
a flock of huge lovely hawks or DEEDEE BIRDS all over me, right
outside my sixth floor apartment window. I said hi to all of them,
and they flew all around me, and let me know that they were up, as
dawn had just cracked or first light before the actual sun was
rising, and that were indeed carefully watching over me, as they do
always. My Sarah-Crows, as David Roth would call them starting at the
tail end of the year 1986, all left me after my ''queereecrow''
incident, but my DEEDEE hawks are all the more taking good care of
me. I have been told by my moon, that if I stop with the
''queereecrow'' shit each time the Cheerios Cereal ad spot comes on
television, the crows will forgive my bad actions, and come back
around me, to look out for me again,against my vicious MILITUFORCE
WOMOTAMM ENEMIES, the human-world doppelgangers of the LAMBRIGG
CULTISTS of the great mighty ASTRAL-PLANE, or the PHASE-2-REALITY of
existence, out and away from the VOID INFINITY, or PHASE-1. MESSAGE
TO MYSELF IN THE FUTURE, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SPELL-CHECKER CORRECT THE
WORDS IN RED UNDERLINE, IT CRASHES THIS STUPID ASS PROGRAM.
Well in any event, seeing snow again, not just on freaking bloody
shoe television, was really quite ''cool'',, in more ways than one.
As
for why Paul and I were heading back up north, it had to do with some
problem with artists we had, and Dawn-Marie King was one of them. In
this universe, she had a very nice singing voice, but had no interest
whatsoever in music other than being a fan of other artists, and
music appreciation in general, but over in this parallel reality
universe, she was an artist herself, and had even a meaner
personality, and I was upset that we had to go up there and deal with
her about some problem. I remember thinking, and this part of things
is totally true and applies here in this universe of my waking world;
how I dread being anywhere near this monster woman, and even with big
Paul, this dread was still totally chilling me to the bone, without
that wild snow storm all around me.
Someday,
the world will advance, and know the triangle reality, of dreams,
hyperspace, and exploratrons. Until this time arrives, folks will be
missing a very powerful part of truth all around their existence, and
of those that they love. In all honesty, I can state with a full and
open heart, that it is like you all are living with one eye, one ear,
one arm, and one leg, and have done so for several thousand years,
and are so used to it, that having two suddenly, would be thought of
as awkward and undesirable to just about anyone of you reading these
words. But if you made the leap, and as I said to Professor Theodore
Jackson in 1984, in a metaphysical taped telephone conversation,
''cross over'', without the added on ''fucking around'', you would in
no time flat, see brand new frikkin' horizons,
L-4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
indeed, we all have those varying crosses, not over, but ON OUR
BACKS, and they tend to get heavy, as even the stories tell how Jesus
fell down twice and needed to be aided by some big strong dude who
helped him to carry his burdensome cross all the way up to the top of
Cavalry's great hill, where the Roman Empire executed its criminals
with this horrendous agonizing torturous monstrous method, called,
crucifixion. WHAAAAAAAA!
Good
old Jupiter Inlet, Florida, no snow, just boats all over the place,
and lots of pretty water and real estate, WEEEEEEEEEEEEE, ''I'm so
impressed'', to quote you, great and adorable non super Aunt
Geraldine ''Snow''.
W—O—W,
Mister freaking Macy, sir!
MORIANITY
may
have
been
a complete fucking failure; but I will trudge along, endlessly; I
promise, WOMO!!
THANK
YOU KIND VIEWERS FOR BOTTOMING ME OUT AT 1947.
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THE
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WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
GINA,
GINA, GINA, GINA, YOU KNOW IT GIRL, BECAUSE I
TOLD YOU!!!!!!!!
What
I never did get around to telling you lovely giant Gina Queen, is
about the Exploratronic Supermind (ES), as this was not what you and
I were there with each other to do. Two powerful things will be
discusses as we get into and past the journal cassette tape numbers
15710 and well into the 15 thousand seven hundred teens, and not teen
queens, shit could my heart stand up to such a
thing??????????????????? These two items are as with any good
football game where a team is planning to win and not suit up for the
fun of it, both offensive, and defensive. So what is poor old
Mountainpen talking about with all of this horse shit, I am quite
sure that many by now are asking themselves, as they must also do
quite a bit.
Well,
going on the offensive, means that you are planning on going into one
of your other dreaming-selves in the vast hyperspace; and dominate
them without them being privy to it. They do not go unconscious, but
merely begin doing some things that they later say to themselves, gee
what made me act that way, why did I say, or do; such and such a
thing? Ever been there? Say no, and I'll say, ''You liar''! Then for
all of you football and gladiator fans, of the yesterday ghost inside
of all of us, huh Debbie Sevensign Moore; there is the other side of
this ESS hyperspace exploration coin, the defensive. This is learning
while here and awake, to recognize, when one of your more advanced
hyperspace doubles or doppelgangers, is trying to work their magic on
you, after-all, of course this is going to work two ways and in two
directions. What fucking road only goes one way? One way streets are
a traffic command for vehicles to drive one way or THE OTHER WAY,
still, there are two ways, or directions, there is no ONE WAY STREET,
merely streets where the law makes it legal to only drive in one
direction. Get any of this huge shit yet, when I put it in parables
and short illustrations, as did my 61st grand father's
Uncle Jesus Carpenter, quite a while back, altering the history of
this planet, ultra huge time, YO?
FOLKS,
COMPLEXITY IS BETTER DEALT WITH BY EVEN REALLY STUPID PEOPLE, THAN
PURE FREAKING SILPLICITY. In its fullest form, this cosmos is
totally 100% explainable, but the simplicity is not acceptable to the
mind of anyone over 4 or 5 or so in age years. Their minds reject it
saying; this is absolutely silly and ridiculous, due to its seeming
simplicity. But real pure major simplicity, is anything but simple;
because you think you are getting it, and you, simply put; are not
getting it at all, as with my endlessly reiterated example
of the magical two sentences that prove your enlightenment is
complete, when grasped; and yet sounds absurd to any non fully
enlightened entity, and that being, ''You
exist, time is pure illusion''. Grasp the power of
that, and you will be in a psych ward later today, and so your brain
actually has a protection mechanism built in to keep you from going
completely nuts, and you say; ''oh I get it, it's just stupid''. No,
you don't get it, or you'd be a babbling moron in one minute or less,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Whether
one is blunt or subtle or anywhere in-between, what is said is not
the issue, the issue is always, what is able to be received by those
listening to something, or for that matter, what is being seen. No
two peeps report the exact same scene the same way, or remember
detailed items of color or size in the same way. Is it truly that we
are all so different, is there a more magical possibility in all of
this? I learned indeed there was, on a very icy cold and snowy
morning in the nineties, in a place known as Gibbsboro, New Jersey,
while transporting my mother to the Lindenwold high Speed line Train
Station, so she could go to work on that particular day. Still, I
want so bad to be subtle, and say a thousand cool things, but nobody
gets most of my story when I come out shouting from rooftops with
extremely blunt and major controversial statements and facts. I had
plans this weekend to see Mikey on the island, but my horrendous
toothache put the kibosh on that. The agony was quite intense until
last evening after the weekend was over. Too coincidental to be a
coincidence, huh Mister Berra, well, I certainly agree with you old
pal. No need to ever try twisting my freaking arm. Now there cannot
be plans to see Mikey on or off the island. He was found washed up in
some sewer drain a few hours ago, dead and gone. You are left to
wonder in this world, or I am at least, just what would have
happened, if I could have proven to this world, all the shit I had on
Robert McGuire of Atlantic city, and al the horrible shit this evil
demonic prick did to me through many years, from destroying my
property, to causing all manner of havoc on and around both me and
those around me. It was a pleasure to be your pal, Mikey. You will be
missed.
This
blog is printed for now just as a short tweet to let you all know I
am here, just as was stated in 1988, in my song called, “Prophet of
Nothing”. This was merely one of the tunes in the compilation
called Epitome of Harassment, and was misspelled, and is why on the
forms you see posted, the word “SIC”standing
for SPELLED INCORRECTLY. The Copyright Examiners have the
1988 conversation where I am talking quite
heatedly to my friend David Roth and my mother as well, in a home on
Central Avenue, in Moorestown, New Jersey. The subject was indeed the
STOCK MARKET, and also quite naturally; my problems with it,
as a result of being on the receiving end of “very powerful people”
and forces, using ICPE and APE technology against me, regarding all
of this.
To
function back in the days when this world was transitioning into a
totally different animal than ever before, and those too young to
know this, simply don't, but it takes a lot of money and flowing
readily available liquid capital. The main vehicle that was created
for only one purpose, their purpose, a long time ago; is indeed, the
MARKETS. But why did things go nuts after early 1983 when the DJIA
for the first time in its long history even then, crossed over the
three digit mark and into 1000+ points, forever? Well, this would
take years to type up and tell, and I will tell bits and parts here
and there, but there really is no short story that can be made about
this monstrosity. Some things, unfortunately; just cannot be
shortened, and still produce a worthy righteous item. If I compressed
this incredible deal here good people. I would just be trashing
everything. It just cannot be done.
I
have become for reasons that elude me, quite homesick, and plan to
leave soon, and go back to New Jersey. This is not a hoax or a
temporarily throw off the track poker bluff for enemies, this is very
real. It will be after the holidays of course. I would never dare do
anything that could put me jeopardy with life and limb during my
Waterloo times, being none other than the holiday season. This is a
precision clockwork reality with me every single year, whether I like
it or not, they do not need my authorization to make my life a living
hell and keep me endlessly down and out and beyond miserable. A child
can see this truth.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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