I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY
MORE THAN ONCE,
CHAPTER 27
Those buttwipe
church carolers woke me this morning walking around my building
singing and chanting or whatever they do. I know that they don't
bring me anything bu bad magnetics as each time they come, bad shit
happens to me. Today was not an exception. I fell back to sleep with
my earplugs in my ears, and was in a horrible place in hyperspace
where really horrible junk was happening. So bad, that I came out of
it crying like a baby and a fool. I know dreams are just me inside
doubles of myself in parallel universes, but the way it ended was so
sad and horrendous, and unbloggable, just don't frikkin' ask, and I
won't tell. How's that?
Can't
I ever have a few days without mother fucking bullshit, E—V—E—R?
I suppose the great Twinbay might say to me, when I learn to replace
– – – – with ++++, that is when. Well lovely girl, if things
were only that simple. Even Mister Osteen wasn't quite preaching the
way he used to last week, so why not cut me a break here, gorgeous?
My sea cruise offer is still on the table! Either way, just don't die
on me.
When
my fatal heart attack took me out of my car over at Cifaloglio, on 26
December of 2006, this was only eight days after my car that was
destroyed in Atlantic City, again, by fucking dirt ball Robert
McGuire; and things were extremely stressful for me, but I was
retraced. I am not legally permitted to explain the details of DDLTT
or Distance Delay Laser Trace Technology. It won't be used for more
than 25 decades yet in this part of hyperspace, so it would kind of
screw up things if I made that much hyperspace towel seepage. So to
keep things quick and real regarding my late December-oh-six
nightmares, things were bad, and I was under extreme ultra fucking
assault by MILITUFORCE powers, AKA HALL'S DAM
FAWCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me start with anything, and
the world jumps to my pounding drums, happens every time, and all of
you who are following me, for any length of time; know how powerfully
real this all is; unless you live in a cave, and do nothing but read
the BOM, and that would be sort of ultimately
silly IMHO.
Something
huge is most likely right around the corner, ladies and gentlemen,
there is so much TSD over the past six weeks that leads me to just
about know this, (Towel Seepage Data). The music bizz is a large part
of it, but much more as always, lays behind those great curtains, huh
Mariena Oz-Wald from lovely mother Russia? Go ahead and tell me that
I was not blogging a book by a certain title name, and now would be
too nervous to add new chapters, for fear of Homeland Security paying
me a visit. I have such a large and profound effect on this planet
for a total nobody, do I not, great viewers?
So
there I am on the weee-early orning non-TV hours of the day after
2006's Christmas, at my job site, Cifaloglio, and that loud machine
kicked in, and made me jump a mile. My heart had been giving me
trouble and was in a nasty irregular rhythm for a few days, and this
caused me to get a fatal coronary thrombosis. I left my body and went
out beyond my automobile, and looked back in it to see my body
sitting behind the wheel, dead to the world, literally. I then began
to notice things, even though it was night time, seemed to have a
glowing brilliance to them and I had no glasses on my face yet saw
with super visual clarity. I walked ten yards into the transfer
station and what I called the trash-warehouse, and noticed that a
white sports car had driven in and was parked there, and inside of
it, the most beautiful goddess that I ever saw in my life. It was
Sarah Krassle. She told me to go over to the other side of this
place, as it is warm over there. I was laughing to myself, as how can
it be warmer or colder in merely a different area of the same large
room on a cold winter night, I;m thinking to myself, and I challenged
her and we began discussing it. She said that she told some fishermen
a long time ago, to throw their fishing nets on the opposite side of
the boat and they were laughing, but obeyed, and caught an abundance
of fish. She eventually convinced me to go over there, and I slowly
did, maintaining my gaze of her and her car, and thinking she has no
bizz in here on this property but I hope she never leaves. I was
madly in love. Her beauty can be so far beyond humanly awesome,
after-all, she has unlimited energy to work with being an almighty
Goddess, the great Jehovah, and dividing the incredible energy by the
speed of light squared produced her physicality or material self, you
all know the formula but few know it in reverse, M=E divided by C-SQ.
As soon as I obeyed her, the entire winter turned into a middle
spring evening, of the following year, and it was early in May of
2007, and suddenly it was around just shy of eight in the evening,
and the sun was low in the sky and setting, and the skies were
bright, and it was warm, and I found myself in daylight savings time,
nearly half a year in the future, only nobody could see or hear me. I
realized that a bunch of people were standing out where my car should
be only it wasn't there, and they were all talking about the
Philadelphia hockey game the night before and how the Flyers Ice
Hockey Team had lost and all the stuff that went wrong in the game.
Suddenly I remember one of them walking over to me and telling me
that he could see me and talk to me, that he was my guide as humans
would call it, and that I had died and was only now my astral-essence
or as occult practitioners might call it, astral-body. He said. After
handing me two lovely flowers in a small vase, that I needed to take
them to a lady, and that only Frank Callio knew who she was, and to
go to one of his favorite spots to speak to him, which was the
McDonald's place on the Black Horse Pike right near the Atlantic City
Ball-field and the Badder Airfield. I had never been there at that
time, and later went a lot to this place with Ann and Dawn who back
then, I didn't even know yet. I did not know how Frank Callio could
speak to me, he was alive and not a 'spirit-guide'. Well, it wasn't
until I came to sunny paradise Florida, that I came to learn that
just a few months back from this DEATH EXPERIENCE, not NDE, as I
totally died and was re-traced; but yes, I learned only years after
all of this, that Frank Callio had passed beyond this veil of tears
earlier that year in 2006. Sounds like shit right out of 'Ghost
Whisperer', but then; so does me talking to dead kids, in Quakertown
Parks, back in the beginning of the fucking nineteen-sixties.
Now
before the sun has a chance to set on this very true nightmare story,
I will tell you that the flowers were supposed to be delivered to an
audition and repertoire person, a lady, in NYC, (A&R), along with
a copy of my song, written early in 2000 at
Guthrie Short's mansion in Blue Anchor, New Jersey, USA, called,
“Atlantic Queen” and I think it was part of the
copyrighted music project called, 'Russ Walker's Star Travelers of
1896'.
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The
real major part of this is that back then, computers and internet
were still a bit new, and the Library of Congress I don't believe,
had as of yet, made up the list such as the one I PIP into my blogs
from time to time. Notice how the project with
Atlantic Queen, is perfectly sandwiched in between, no not a
Subaru Car Commercial and Andy Rooney of 60 minutes, great Flatliners
Movie Cast and Directors, but in this case; between
two MAJOR OTHER PROJECTS, that seem to have effected my entire life
in ways, that go beyond phrases like
mind bending and brain breaking, and bone chilling; and you
get the general idea!!!!!!!!!!!
You
missed me Mizz Dirtweeds Sleazedisease Bitchcrap, HA HA HA HA HA HA!
But then, we all know you'll just get me over and over again, later
on, you water witch you, Jane!
Here
comes a FIRE ALARM, at nine
minutes before two this afternoon. I guess if she couldn't get me one
way, she got me in another way. But at least my clock icon on this
computer monitor fucking screen has been blocked to keep her somewhat
at mother fucking bay! Watch over me if you
can, great PAM B. and KENNY M. TANKS!
Well
Mister Peter Vitteritti, of Pleasantville, New Jersey; and friend of
that beyond white-hot gorgeous Stacey K, not Krassle; of the Welfare
Offices, on Main Street, there in town; all odds are that your name
was misspelled by me, but I did spell it as it would be pronounced,
and in case you remember me, friend of a Grammy Winner as you stated
you are and wanted me to work on music with him, and is why most
likely my hell began to get so horrendous all around these times; I
thought you might be interested in the current weather conditions
here in Fort Pierce, Florida, where I have resided now, since the
middle of December in the year of 2009. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy,
that sounds super wonderful. The alarm was just deactivated by Engine
Ladder #15. I love those guys, and that lovely girl who advertises
locally and says that same thing, wow is that girl sexy as all
fucking shit! I think it is called Linstrom but I probably spelled
that wrong also, but again, it is spelled as it sounds, WEEEEEEEEEEE,
not TV!
MARCH
15, 2015,
SUNDAY
AFTERNOON AT 2:00,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 83 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 65%, FEELING LIKE 87 DEGREES.
SMALL
E WINDS ARE 6, GUSTING TO 7.
RIP
TIDES RECENTLY BAD FROM EARLIER HIGH WINDS.
HERE
I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE. SO
DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU
FARTED!!!!!!!!
And
I thought that nightmare was horrendous that was responsible for that
Theraflu Cold Med Commercial, where Pee broke Gemma's face into
pieces,like the guy in the dam ad, only his face never explodes as it
would if he was really struck by powerful awesome PEE. And still I am
always left to wonder, just what would all of these entertainment
world peeps do without me? Still my daughters need to bury me and not
the other way around. That is the ultimate nightmare. Don't go here
with me, I am still crying while typing this blog, it was so fucking
real, and no one wants their children to die in their arms.
Especially someone who knows the power of Hyperspace Towel Seepage.
This is why I know those fucking dam church carolers don't mean me
any good at all, Jennifer Washburn, Tiffany, and Peter Vitteritti,
YO! GET IT?
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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