WORDPRESS/WordCamp Mix-up

— I have to find my 1/2-sentence mention of that devestting g&v tree business is why this Log is stuck up here:

I’m going to add the “Labor Day – Memorial Day” file to here, (Memorial Day – Labor Day, same horror-set any which way:)

If I don’t find help by Labor Day I’m left all alone in this “unspeakable” town so I start to panic as it’s drawing close and no assistance is in sight, then there’s like an unnatural weather change and the tourists are gone and it’s just me stranded alone again every day with this unlivable, invisible and “non-existent” torture, so I’m just mentioning that that’s like a red-letter day for me in case it reaches to spur anyone to any action toward actually getting into a contact with me and i do not know why I never, ever hear from anybody, that I eventually caught on that people were being waylaid and I tried to damage-control that but it’d seemed that this blogsite would get someone that’s fairly safe to have found a way to get a message, any message, somehow through to me. I got a semiotic-type little notice in an email the other day. ( – 30 -, 8/13/16) 5/20/17,  it’s the same thing as bad with the Memorial Day. All the “holidays” or anything that can be made into an excuse for a party out of, like a first or a last say of anything, a week or a month, are twice as bad for me as the regular days are but the big “holidays” especially seem to have annual-curses attached to themselves for me and Memorial Day always scares me that it’s like a celebration of Death for the system and they want to use me for their pet-gimmick for how they get Deaths created so it’s like they’re all tearing after to get a piece of me to give them some annual-right to include me in on their plans for themselves’ year. Labor Day I start to panic about the coming cold weather but Memorial Day I panic about being utilized for the coming Tourist Season.

26 May, 2017, Friday, the tortures are, “invisible tortures” are out of control for tiny me. This Alexander Graham Bell subject looks to be important to all this “visions and voices” and championing the innocent-seeming small-sized, black-haired Autists business. I found 2 kiddie books but the copyright write-ups are scary and you don’t want to get involved. There is always “fair use” of materials or they shouldn’t be on any public market but the wording is such that it’s scary even to have the stuff in your brain the way they phrase the various modern write-ups. One says that you can’t photocopy anything without permission; but permission comes with the whole paradigm, that of course there’s fair use of published materials for discussion, educational, etc., it’s just that everything about the developmentally disabled Autists is stealing from us “others.” The torture’s been out of control and there are so many subjects that I walk around alone with in my head that I have to have some outlet so I’m going to try this file and am “afraid” or superstitious or whatever about the way they skew word-usage that the word “journal” might be packed with some scary hidden meaning so I thought of just log, and even daily log I wasn’t sure what that could be twisted to. It’s the Memorial Day weekend now. I got what I call “molest-tortured” awake around one thirty a.m. and that’s generally done to throw-off my following day so that kills can be blamed on my bad mood. With AG Bell, it’s very compex but seems all wrapped up in this Armageddon Program. He might have even met or espied-on Florence Sabin in her being used for this that I figure I’d then inherited and it’s the same sort of “paradigm,” same modus operandi by which the Autists are getting their Armageddon Plan fulfilled for themselves, off of all whatever Bell was up to in his lifetime, as some descendant I figure of Peter Paul Rubens, a big worker for his type of the people, and there goes a “Thunderville” plopping down in the next chair. That’s what’d started off this particular horror-run of the invisible tortures-paradigm onto me, that sitting in this same of the branch libraries yesterday there was a real scary one of those in that they seem after owning my work here that == the guy just kicked the table and the whole screen blanked out and then came back. This is why I’m trying to keep a “log” of these occurrences now. It’s all premeditated with some spooky sign on the screen as I’d logged on a little while ago saying that there’s some poor termination or broken termination of program or some such and whenever that’s flashed I’ve wound up having a problem where I can’t sign out. I recall what it was that upset me yesterday because this different “Thunderville” is doing the same scam, the affect that it’s working somehow in connection with myself, maybe on this Universe Rescue blogsite, I can’t guess, but one of them last week was typing from a liist like my handwritten table of contents is as I wasn’t able to get the time to update the one on the lower menu. — It’s typing like to race me and making sucking-in noises like to suck my work from myself to itself and this is the underworld “magic” by which the global-system got made and is doing its Armageddon. — That was awful. I’m always in complete ignorance as to the goings-on up from the underground or by remote control of the others around me, now me saying “the others” like I’m in an alien world, which it is real bad right now. I tried looking up things about Bell but mostly only got that he’d lived for about 7 years right near where most of my days have been being spent, in that day-shelter’s general area. From the “search-engine” map, Google map, it looks like it’s backyard is N Street and it’s across the street from the Hahnemann statue, momument, built 1900, Wikipedia. That’s “homeopathy” and I’m saying that homeopathy was largely a cover-story for doctors’ prescription of brain serum for Autists et al. complaining of headaches, a little bit of the problem for the treatment of the problem = the cure for the problem, that the brain damaged have been eating brain in order to get smart and I’m saying that since the 1969 moon-landing they can see that their thinking was all out of whack with reality, that there was no get rich quick out there. Bell must have been influential with say then what’s become this area all around the day-shelter in that he was a real big deal from having invented the telephone when he was only in his twenties, spent his life being a v.i.p. But I don’t know who’d care about this problem today as the Clarke School for the Hearing Impaired near Smith College is only a kids’ school, they’re not going to have any employees interested in me saying that deafness comes from the accident-set in Prehistory, the Sylvian fissure as a big obvious scar from that but Bell couldn’t tell about that brain damage’s being the cause of all earth’s then-difficulties like deafness. I’d tried to read his essay on having a deaf variety of people on purpose but hadn’t understood it. There’s an AGBell Association here but again it’s just a school for children, that doesn’t have anything to do with becoming a partner with me on this blogsite/Universe Rescue attempt, that to an adult I could try to explain this about Bell’s coming from long-time generational-slaves to the “deaf” often Autists, and Peter Paul Rubens’ then generation and only Bell’s type of system-workers, but these kids’ teachers don’t have any time for looking into that, I was thinking about what little I’d learned about the early years of the Clarke School when the Wild Boy of Aveyron and how to teach was all the talk. I can’t think of any group nowadays that would particularly think about AG Bell and all what he had been up to that’d led to me being the most-tortured, albeit invisibly, person that’s ever lived, more than twice over. It’s unbelievable because I function and there aren’t any witnesses, etc. I noticed that when I realized to look into the subject of Bell there was the typical reaction of excitement from the invisible torture, that anything about any of their line or “race” of people excites the “Man In Oriental Costume” type and nothing else except the “Julie” subject gets much reaction, none of my Universe-situation thinking seems to get any reaction except using me as a LURE-device. Increasingly I try to figure if they could be the Autists but I can’t figure that; seems to me that they’re slaves but they’re ingrate slaves who really really just want to victimize me for getting this Armageddon for themselves and or their captoring developmentally disabled people, and nothing of interest in anything about myself except this sucking into their system that they all do, sucking down and sucking the earth to death. That’s why I had to open this log because I have to get all this horror shook off of me before I can think. There doesn’t seem to be too much I can do with today. I’d forgotten to check on one book before I sat down here and it’s too much trouble to go across the room after there’s a “machine” ready for you to sit down at, and I looked again at this Amazon business that I have the gift card or 2 for. I figure that I cannot afford a cell phone whether it’s Trakfone or I only want to use the camera part of it or what, that all I’ve got is that gift card, so there’s no point to looking at getting a phone or a phablet, that a tablet, and they mostly seem to come with cameras, is the only choice, so that narrows it down for me but then yesterday when I was trying to figure this and the guy was across from me as though a part of whatever I was working on it got me scared that the bums are only going to “invisibly” take anything I’d get because I’m always all alone without witnesses. The Armageddon Program seems to Play-tell people that there’s some point to all this torture to me but there really isn’t. Then I ponder what some of these people like-planted around me are assigned to be plants around me for, and I was looking at one of them alot recently because she got my former bunk just a few feet away — there goes another “Thunderville” sitting across from me like assigned to do so or what, — and today it occurred to me that the girl is a “combo-bombo” from San Francisco, — it’s so ridiculous to have to think of people these ways, wonder what their lineages REALLY are, — ever have any bizarre thoughts? from that 2nd Tree on the Corner short story, — that she might be some combo of this court clerk out there who’d trained me a bit in 1987. It’s an actually disgusting situation, that this girl appeared about 6 months or so ago and her act would make a normal person’s skin crawl but nobody talks out here, I guess things are only discussed in the underworld, everyone just accepts all these different circus acts like it’s nothing. Then I caught a glimpse of her the other day with her hair combed and I got the impression her act might be to turn into looking like Glinda the Good Witch from the Wizard of Oz type of a “show script” transformation of, surprise, she’s a great witness against that Kathy Foshay is normal or has any redeeming social value that that character might be here around this horror-Program really for. Most of the people around me are peculiar like that level. I have to sign off.

5/27/17, Saturday, usual real bad everything except for finding out that AG Bell had lived about 2 blocks from the day-shelter, so that accounts for how things got so weird. Bell seems to be of this “magic show” type. I’m trying to send a good picture of him along with my set from the Ghent Altarpiece and E.L. Drake, etc. The “thing” about the Ghent Altarpiece that I use alot in trying to explain how we got to this TPE situation is that the bottom piece/panel to it has been missing nearly since it was painted back around 1432, and without that bottom “foundation” to the whole set of nearly 19 painting-pieces all in one then how could you know the full “meaning” of the set, you couldn’t, I can’t. It was probably of a dungeon with all kinds of bodies hanging upside down in their death throes in order to support that pretty lawn-group up there. That’s the real cost of pretty and all this that we have, and all this time that’s past there hasn’t been any improvement, just “mystery: at most. I’m going to sign out for a little while and try to find out the difference between getting a digital camera from Amazon.com or a tablet with those cameras they mostly seem to come with, or even a phone-camera, what can I simpliest upload regular pictures in full-size up onto here by is what I’m trying to find out about, because 2017 seems to have been underworld-declared to be the year of robbing me blind and it’s nerve-wracking/nerve-wreaking to try to figure out what to do with the only fund I’ve got to speak of for toward helping this effort. — These “stupid animals” keep bothering me with that I am not a robot, please verify by clicking on pictures, try it again, try it again, so that I can’t proceed. Also, I’d narrowed it down to a digital camera that looks good only to then read that it takes 3 AAA batteries, which I can’t afford except maybe once and can’t play with.

June 1, everything bad but one thing was a good surprise, that I did get a little phone that happens to have a camera that I’ll learn to work through the upcoming week and on, the phone able to be worked by the time I’ll have to have it for the Jury Duty, which I’ve become frantic about now due to all the Armageddon Program horrors. It’s quiet right now but what I went through to get the cell phone was horrible after a horrible morning with these “cast and crew” Armageddon-workers’ being all all over me. Since it’s a first of anything I told maybe the worst of the ones out here that the underground seems to be preparing her for a big role because I have to take the early shuttle bus alot this month and to please instead stay off of me, stay out of my business, and that sort of crap had started the day and then I went to the welfare office and was directed to find the “free phone” or Lifeline I call it and SafeLink, (by TracFone) it’s generally called around here, and they did show up but my application got rejected because this address isn’t recognized, the one I caution any inadvertant readers to ignore completely, but I think it got rejected because the system really wants to pin that “Inferno-shelter’s” address onto me, wants to connect that to me for the LURE purposes, misguide people out to that location with this horrendous all behind-my-back underworld “Armageddon Program” the system’s been thriving off of all these years, and now it seems my poor little but real unfortunately Universe Rescue-attempt blogsite attempt has been being “lifted” for that LURE’s purposes, so they said I couldn’t get a “free” phone. I showed them the $6 check with that address that I’d just gotten yesterday and the Jury Duty summons with the address and then there was another worker coming and she re-submitted and then she said she’d re-submitted again with the address slightly altered, like instead of “1333” she typed it 1331 or some such and then it got approved. She put the battery in to get it started up for me and I walked away and a bottle of coffee in my bag opened up and spilled all over the place, nothing getting ruined but it’s just about the theme, the holocaust and decapitation themes of this whole thing and after about six grueling survival-type hours I got this nice phone actually secured and there was this filthy disaster-mess all running all over the place, the coffee very dark, waiting for water to dilute it during the day but instead the cap “was” slid open as I blame everything like that anymore on this underworld’s being all invisibly all over me. Only a few feet away from the welfare office and the phone people I was trying to eat a little before starting the walk and instead there was all that mess and me furious at the mess’s being made, which always looks like it’s me that’s made if but it’s these underworld “parasites” and there I was furious and I cleaned it up and found a different quiet spot to eat and made the walk and read the instructions and found out this even has a camera, which is what I personally want is to get some illustration-pictures here because everything is pictures, “Thinking in Pictures” like poor slaughterhouse-designer “Autiste” titled her Autism memoir, but really I think she has what I call “past-lives captivity syndrome.” Instead of feeling great about the good luck I felt bad about how furious this horror gets me, how they ruined the good experience, ruin any good experience, it’s all they do as far as I can guess from my experiences, that they “ant-size” the thinking as much as possible so that you don’t realize how heinous everything is, then they make me feel guilty because I get angry that while I’m standing there trying to wait for the phone-“deal” they’re invisibly staring at the items in my purse-bag and fiddling with loosening the bottle lid, typically. Learning there’s now a camera I can try to figure out how to use like starting tomorrow, — have to decide which of the pictures to try to get first, and then over time I’ll likely have to be trying to improve the quality of what I manage to get, that none of this “technology” on the cheap like I can only do goes smoothly for me, but tomorrow, even though the phone/camera somehow won’t be finished being prepared, I’ll try experimenting to get either the Bailey-Bellson picture at 4th and M Sts, NW, or the one of Alexander Graham Bell at 13th and K Sts., NW, but I don’t think I can go in both directions, and the Bailey-Bellson is a little out of the way for the slim chance of its coming out the first try anyway. Mulling this good news then I went to get a beverage and some food from a convenience store before going to the “other” library, on this 7th Street, east side. There wasn’t anyone in the store at 1 p.m. and a few people came in as I found things and got on line and this guy seemed odd in reaching for a cup behind me somewhere and then in coming around the little island (7-11,) to fill the cup with coke I noticed as he brushed me in order to reach behind me to do that and then I realized that he was going to be like half on top of me to leave that space, like he was half on top of my back and would turn and be half on top of me from the front to exit from the line-area and I went to move out of the space before he made that move and asked him to please not make trouble and he turned snotty — all the trouble-making types automatically turn snotty or worse if you ask them not to pull any tricks, if I ask them not to pull any tricks on me at least, and then his foot accidentally hit mine because of the odd juxtapositions since he’d walked in and reached to grab that cup and then came around to the other side to fill it and then was going to make a “circle” around me as he exited from filling the cup but I’d moved away, and I tried to take a good look at his face to more or less try to see what sort of a “stereotype” he is and, my unfortunate life sort of quandaries all the time, maybe this guy’s type of face looks like the type of face that this “new girl” at the shelter that I’m seeing alot of in the dorm room and then the shuttle-bus and day-shelter, and maybe they’re, — libel/slander worries for little me all the time, but I’ve been thinking that maybe the girl might look like a specific big name that I’ve been trying to mention here, and then I get this guy and the same thought occurs, that maybe the 2 of them look like John W. Young the astronaut’s “type” or type of a face and figure or such. I decided it was too “dangerous” after that for me to try the other library and that’s similar to the “furious” over the mess from the coffee that comes from this Armageddon-business, that it’s really annoying that I have to “emergency” change my plans and walk the extra first to this branch and then from here back to the shelter, and then as I drew close, besides the usual fire truck/s only I think there were, not too many ambulance and police sirens so much, then there was another of those “Johns Hopkins-maybe” types and then a weird lady forcing her way into my line of sight only for me to then see she was part of a parade with one of the “Thundervilles'” doing some performance in the path before I could reach it to here just to sit down and try try try to get some handle on what this is really all about. I’m frantic that they’re disappearing everything on me the same way more or less that’d happened last year. Plus “they,” the usual Armageddon-torture, must be trying to get me ill with that slug-pneumonia again too, so that I’m out here and everything’s disappearing out from under me and it’s like the underworld is hovering for excuses for making me ill, as I’ve had that slug-pneumonia way over seventy times from this shelter-living here and I’m terrified and it makes me unable to function, etc., etc., and I’m just going to be left in this shelter-captive ghost-prisoner being used for making the world-takeover for these Autist boys. In fact the one today, mentioning that Ira Levin book yesterday The Boys From Brazil, I was thinking maybe the face was the same or similar, like bright blue eyes in a normal-seeming face but they’re like robot-boys for Autism-world or some such horror-reality. It takes alot of explaining to be able to realize what I’m trying to get across about this underworld, and that isn’t even what this blogsite’s supposed to be for, they drag me down into this sort of “ventilating” to try to clear my mind from all this weird horror I wade through or worse each day, like trying to swim while being submerged (in) by s***-throwup, s-throwup maybe for short but it isn’t really any exaggeration, that they just make the whole world awful off of these types of minutiae to me all the time. The Johns Hopkins-blue headgear weirdo-girl-Thunderville little horror-ritual parade before I could get to here signifies that the underworld is performing garbage off of my trying to use the library, which’s been going on here nearly all of the millennium. Then I got into the door and 2 of the usual downtown all these years Library Police were here as though that too is conspicuously significant in the underworld’s unspoken/unspeaking beliefs-system of God doesn’t know what probably. Imagine knowing people for 12 years and they’re total transient strangers that have no meaning to your life, that that’s all there ever is for me. Then they’d found a kiddie book I was looking for, Alexander Graham Bell, Inventor and Visionary I think is the title, Scholastic Books, and that doesn’t have a particular photo of him for this little collection of his type that I’m trying to get. The one at 13th and K might work out and I’ll probably try to get that tomorrow. He’d been all over around here, working with Joseph Henry at the Smithsonian, the Franklin School at 13th and K not far from the White House, then his home was a little northwest of there near that day-shelter we try not to discuss, and then his lab seems to be what’s called the Volta School, up by Georgetown. I will have to try to quick-learn about Volta. The Rough Guide to the Brain book mentioned Marconi and his photo perhaps looks a little like that serial-murderer named Ted Bundy. I was out of the country when he was in the news so haven’t noticed that situation but the possible “familial” resemblance between the 2 guys made me think of the old Murder, Inc. group’s Lepke Buchalter and that maybe Gregory Jarvis from the 1986 Challenger rocket ship/spacecraft explosion, killing around ten on board and one of them was that first Teacher in Space, Christa McAuliffe. Buchalter had allegedly died in an electric chair and that’s what happened (everything’s only alleged to me anymore practically) to Jarvis, and if there was a biological-, if Jarvis was an offspring-descendant biologically from Lepke Buchalter, then perhaps that “accident” was all premeditated, which I guess it was now, as it was real real strange, Jarvis had taken Christa, both of them married to other people, out bicycle-riding the evening before they boarded and got blown up and I think “the ‘O’ rings” that allegedly caused the explosion to be possible, was an Autist-system ritual-talk for that they were being disloyal to their spouses and so the whole crew and flight was blown up, but I think the system had only gotten McAuliffe, her private parts, aroused, and then they’d sat there for hour after hour while take-off was delayed and — what do you do just sitting in those get ups and waiting and, this system doesn’t really have any scruplies, so I think Jarvis had gotten the to-be first Teacher in Space excite-aroused and — same as Lepke for him, death in an electric chair, and for their system underworld there’s some sort of a “checks and balances” and pay-offs that violent deaths for the system’s good are rewarded by.

Volta I’d have to quick-learn about next but Bell’s work took him from the Mall up to above Georgetown, covered alot of this town. And it looks so obvious now that all this work led to this vision and voices horror-holocaust-scam. They’ve been perpetrating that and then killing/disappearing via drugs anyone who complains of the noises to their heads, doing that like the entire 20th century increasingly, to where that Kraepelin phony psychiatrist, d. 1926, was living it up off of that trick, which led to the Nazi holocaust and I think we only “won WWII” because the Autists “needed” (word I hate to use because of the Autists’-implications ladled onto everything, that it’s also connected to the horror of the decapitating people in order to get their brain’s chemicals from it for getting high off of, system this is, — in fact that guy in the convenience store with that cup and pouring the big drink behind my back and trying to walk over/around me again then, he did seem perhaps oddly consumed maybe by an addiction-motive that seems perhaps more important than piddly people’s concerns,) I think we “won” because they wanted to move their rocket-building act to here because they needed more “fuel” from more petroleum from more melted people into that for being able to break that “glass ceiling” of the ozone layer/sound barrier/sky-seal by. There’s a small encyclopedia here so I’ll look up Volta before I leave, but I’d looked him up briefly about a week ago and it hadn’t sounded bad, whereas Marconi and Tesla perhaps seem Autist, where the cleaned-up versions that we get told always seem like they’re all laudable people, but their combined “consumed obsession” is really, every day a little more, every day, Autism is never-changing, Autism is about (selfish) repetition, doing the same patterns, doing the same, doing the same, getting rid of the others, wake up and do what to get rid of the others on the planet, each day. I’m trying to figure how to get that perseverance across, that if things seem okay and everything’s a lull and surely there aren’t complaints, they still wake up each day trying to figure how to get rid of the other people off of their planet, that there isn’t any relaxation. I’m constantly chided to think I’m foolish in being worried, yet I’ve experienced so much and there’s history to look at and there isn’t any “hope” that the bums are going to ever relent in this what they’re doing, that the only self-defense for the normal population is if everyone is forewarned about this Autism from Prehistoric brain-damage accident-set, those afflicted Autists aren’t going to change their ways. I ran into a good kiddie book on the Great Wall of China and am thinking that the Wall was actually made by the invaders for keeping the normal people away from all the loot that was being stolen and hoarded up there around Siber-Mongolia. //Having cleared my head a little now I have to think who I might be able to get an email off to today, because for me to sit here and not do anything while all this is all over me and the whole future and planet and therefore leaving all those prepared planets out there left unfound, — lonely, lonely Space, all prepared for us to grow into and we’re going to be extincted. God help, there’s an “anecdote” that John W. Young had had to leave some turd in a space capsule that’s just going to always be floating around out there and said that nature could use that DNA for re-starting the human race. I can’t find a copy of the anecdote to be able to verify or cite the source, just recall having read about it twice at least. So it’s difficult for me to not try to do something to prevent that sort of a nothing left of ourselves while there are probably countless “balls” /planets out there that nature had prepared for our delight to find and work up into being fun and habitable places, so today for instance what might could I do for trying to locate a communicant, a contact somewhere so I don’t drown from the s-throwup out here and this evening and tomorrow until I can get something going with anything. I have that post called only “illustration” on the first blog page so far, and the girl that it’s copyrighted to, I have her email address, maybe I could try to get a note to her with this blogsite to look at, but there’s at least one problem with trying to contact her as there is with all these years of trying to contact any stranger, too, and in her case it’s that maybe she’s done some work from right near where the fraud-parent lives, oddly enough, that there’s another illustration she’s got on her website that has the name of a town near there, and that’s really odd. I didn’t notice it the first time I saw her blogsite but on the 2nd time, so that poor little witness-less me has to think if it might have only been put on because I might want to try to contact her and would get scared away. The thing is that I don’t know what her picture is really for or about but that it’s good for what I’m trying to get across about, about the freeze-burn hole that became a scar but also about some standard trick the underworld does to make our normal heads worry and go like whirr-whirr- whirls, round and round because the scar is where the nerve circuits are severed and they nerve-paths reach that scarred area and get slowed down and the system takes the advantage and think-moves the circuits around and around into circles instead of being able to heal and make progress and think, back around you go instead of normal connections and path-progress. So I’d like to make an email to explain that to her and discuss me being able to use her picture as an illustration for that, but I also have to be careful, and you might notice that that’s starting to have to go out the window lately, getting desperate. I generally get desperate around Memorial Day and then Labor Day as that in-between time seems like the only chance I’d be able to find anyone outside of this “peculiar” District, too. A week or so ago I’d typed that with the District’s refund check and then the federal and then the jury-pay I’d be able to get to go read those Florence Sabin letters at least so I’d felt okay, but then the District check came for $6 and I’m afraid the federal just won’t show up and I’m defenseless, just like I was this time last year and things started disappearing that had seemed like life wouldn’t be too bad, then if the federal doesn’t come I think the jury duty will likely tell me there aren’t any cases being heard and I don’t have to show up and then there won’t be but maybe one or 2 days pay, and that’s because the federal refund didn’t come in so the Armageddon Program will go on and on that I haven’t any decent clothes and am a dirty slob and shouldn’t be allowed in their Prettyman courthouse — I lived in that Judiciary Square area for 10 years and was totally ignored except that the system thrived off of this underworld Armageddon Program off of me, so that I already know that nobody in those courthouses wants anything to do with me and it would be like pie for that whole thing to also disappear out from under me I’ll still be here penniless and beholden to this Inferno-shelter and the other place and have nowhere to go till the Program makes me sick enough for an/another ambulance abduction, never get anywhere, is what I’ve been seeing being ritually-worked up all around me as I’m just trying to get through my days, that these underworld people, — and there’s some new Hasid Jew for instance in addition to any of the other “religious” types that don’t probably do much but scrutinize and plot how to get rid of the out here types that they don’t like, like me, etc., — don’t seem to do much but sit around and plot how to curse to destroy, that that’s the same situation I’m always in, going to libraries to get evidence toward that the system’s forcing us to a dead end and doing it off of my unfortunate self, — I have to sign off. Rough day this.

3 June, “Oh my God,” it’s so awful. I don’t think there’s any real way I can survive. It’s Tourist Season now,  which means season of hunting tourists, which drives me nuts, that humans don’t behave that way, even if some animals allegedly do, that hasn’t anything to do with how humans behave, — I’d just done this about that Challenger spaceship explosion and I didn’t mention that because the Autism brain-damage is about the same thing as “retardation” the Autists generally dislike anyone who isn’t with their family biologically, meaning that they’d blown up the Teacher in Space because they like everything kept ignorant so they can seem to be intelligent by the “magic”-system comparison. And I’ve got them crawling especially with Tourist Season and this blogsite’s real-life interests, that, this, used as their LURE gimmick, LURING unsuspecting normals to what really are sadism-dungeon “disappearances.” Year after year I’ve been here alone like this except for that winding up out in Maryland. All I think about is how to get myself out of this “s-hole,” s*-hole, year after year but increasingly this year as, I just got a new thing on this tax refund’s disappearing out from under me, the “magic” underworld just invisibly thrashing and bashing me all over and then I couldn’t get a cell phone like I thought I could and so I tried to get one through the welfare office and I got one and they’re just “magic” -doing the cell phone to make a person lose their mind but doing it so that it’s obvious that all this computer technology must be part of the same scam, and that Alexander Graham Bell was a big part of all that and was all over this town and all over Florence Sabin whose letters I want to go read too; have to sign off.
6 June, 2017, “the animals are killing me” very figuratively/psychically, horror. It feels a little better just to be able to get that noted down anywhere, that it’s the Tourist Season standard “trick” practises they do here, practices. This branch library does wild, bizarre “anxiety” shrill building noise into this main room whenever I walk in and it’s worse on some days like today, then they had 2 strangers so far come up and start doing tricks. I’ve been in this town almost all of this millennium and it’s just a joke to make believe that nobody knows that this is always the pattern, the kill-pattern.

7 June, same thing. I feel the need to ventilate to clear my mind and try to regroup the things I’m trying to do. Mostly I have to do the TracFone company’s tutorial on this new to me SafeLink Smartphone, and that’s not till I try to clear up this latest letter-attempt, and then someone at P&G gave me a local address I can send a file/this blogsie a copy, to so that’ll be the next big thing I’ll be hopeful about, while trying to learn how to work this cell phone and especially the camera on it. I spent one day working on it, guess it was Saturday, and then went and took pictures and “somehow” got the bright idea to detour slightly and take some of this petroleum-fetish, like a good luck underworld charm for LURING people for turning them into petroleum. I took a bunch of photos and saw the homeless shuttle bus and didn’t turn off the phone/camera and got on and fiddled with it a little and the whole screen went black and stayed that way. I think that was Friday, so Saturday I called TracFone and they re-booted the thing but I can’t figure out this about that the first screen now, instead of the home-screen I’ve now got a sign into your “search-engine” I call it because to me “Google” reminds me of petroleum=”goo” so I don’t really like to use the word too much personally, etc, sign into that account, which I didn’t understand but I got a few minutes of the tutorial up yesterday and it says that means your gmail account, and the problems I’m having with the cell phone so far I don’t want to give them any password I use, so I figure I’ll have to make a new Gmail account just for trying to figure out this phone and in particular that, and I’d seemed to nearly have it, all I really am looking to do is get some photos onto the front screen here to enliven it a bit toward getting someone interested in assisting me, etc., so that, — I’m so bad off that I can hardly bring myself to trust to call up my email in these places, — like typically they’ve got a “Thunderville” almost directly on my back right now, horror follows my any step but not just one horror but compendiums of horror like a bingo ball machine, just all different combinations, — because of this Tourist Season it’s like doubled-horror, to be used as an underworld circus-freak exhibition as a LURE for entrapping unsuspecting normals into being locked up for becoming petroleum after the brain-eaters and others have gotten whatever they want off of the body count, etc., that that’s what I’ve been being used for for most of my life, increasingly. I’m trying to damage-control it by trying to explain what they’re doing to me out here, but, it isn’t worth anything, this just thrills the murderers that are living off of making the freak-circus exhibition-LURE off of me, etc. I have to go to open a new Gmail account and then get back to the tutorial and then take whatever I’ve learned and try to re-start the new phone tonight after I get into the top bunk I’m in I guess, then try to get a little further each day, but my time’s running out toward the Jury Duty and I haven’t had any time yet for finding clothes for it yet, to be done also. — It isn’t working. I saw Create an Account and thought I’d check my account first and did but then I can’t find the Create an Account anymore and the system always makes me feel like I’m cheating, the blame the victim syndrome. This new cell phone is like practically see-through for that “people” are playing all over me running the phone and plus I’ve got a severe medical problem from it already with “contracting” my hand, so that I could barely type yesterday, I guess because I’d started the tutorial that started on me, so that is really (really) scary and I don’t want to just turn over my password, being a normal dupe-type normal person when they ask for 4 numbers I give the easiest thing that comes to mind and most other people likely use the same last 4 of their social security number that I just standardly had started using for these secret pin codes years ago and I don’t feel safe giving it to this “smartphone” whatever it is that had been all over me while I was trying to get pictures of the petroleum-fetisth, and that’s when that girl’s last name had popped up on the screen for “no reason,” God help, that the word “no” is standard for all this decapitation industry and therefore is also a word people try to avoid. So now I can’t Create an Account without feeling like a thief for having the 2 that I’ve had to have, one started by some of the unscrupulous types around me so I don’t feel comfortable and then the UniverseRescue.attempt one that then I don’t use much because that’s become used for this tourist-LURE, for a long time all winter it seemed it was being swallowed up by all these parasites so that I’ve gone back to using the first gmail account because it’s just got my own name on it. Now I want to open a separate one to see how this bizarre phone-attempt works. — I mean that the concept of Universe Rescue seems to be being “scripted” into the LURE, not the gmail account but the name of the gmail account I kept seeing on the screens here like an advertisement that they run that and that as an exhibition whenever I come to this branch. It’s an atmosphere, “ambience,” that this place is like underworld-run alot by the fraud-family types, skulking around, as I’d been in this area since early 2001 on and off, running “the” pornography-LURE that I suspect has long been being run off of me, doing that in particular in this little area besides all what downtown and this indescribably situation. That seems some standard underworld “strategy.” I dislike using quote around words to highlight them some much. The underworld seems to always use women as a LURE for the guys hidden behind the women to then jump and kill the LURED guys. That’s what’s happened to all the normal people it seems. It’s been going on for hundreds of years it seems but then this bizarre fraud-situation that I’m in seems also to think that that’s some standard secret way of life to do like, run that sort of LURE. And this area seems to have been using it for years under around here. I didn’t come to the library too often but they had some guy as a resident near here who probably wasn’t from the specific fraud-type/s in “the fraud-family” but was very similar, like some line/strain off of John Philip Sousa maybe, and I’d always used newspaper classifieds for finding jobs and housing and had answered an ad or saw a sign and went in and looked at an apartment and it seems that my having looked at it means that maybe I could have been underworld-considered to have been “captured” for having gone into there, where then the guy did make me nervous by blocking a doorway for on the way out after I’d gotten a look at the place, moron me who thinks almost anything is adequate, but that was a little too close to the guy and nobody’s really going to rent and so, maybe you don’t make it out and because it was that close the underworld figures it gives them rights to make a LURE around me or what was a creepy feeling around here for years and then they re-did this building…. There’s another little part to this but it isn’t important, I’m just stymied because I have to wait till the time is up and then start over with a fresh session at some different “machine” to see if I can get that Create an Account back on the screen again to make one just for practicing with the smartphone, which doesn’t seem safe. In fact I’d had the same situation-dilemma with the Amazon shopping, that I finally figured out what to try to get and really they were then going to add postage and it would have run over and had to be cancelled but before that point they asked for my email account name and I gave that and then they asked for the password and I’d never heard of that, and I wound up trying to get this “Lifeline” that now I’m thinking maybe isn’t a “government phone” but gratis from TracFone? I’ll be trying to figure all these things out ….//8 June, these animals are all killing me, all different kinds of s* thrown at me. Two big things were added today for me who’s bogged down under so much already and hate to complain, — I was thinking that the system/”the Jew”-type that does this “magic” b.s. had ruined Sabin’s biography on Mall the same way this blogsite is all messed up by the Jew’s controlling of everything that happens to me out here so that that’s like the framework and template only that I’m allowed. Sabin’s biography was real blah. It’s like she was told and told to only stick to business and write out about that and that’s all. Going to read her papers I’d be able to figure if my guesses about herself are correct, were correct back in 2008 when I’d first found the little couple of the biographies on her, one kiddie one and the other by, I think the name is, Elinor Bluemel, something Bluemel. The kiddie book made me laugh out loud as I figured she had the same problem-type that I’ve got, but with the little good Bluemel biography I felt it was alot of reading between the lines, and that’s what her letters would be similar to if not better than. Here I want to ignore that “better than” for its being one of the system’s phrases, that they have this comparison-contest or some such “choosing” mentality all over me and everywhere I’d guess. They’re all over my head making this typing miserable, is what I mean by them ruining this blogsite-attempt to be made after their ways, allowed patterns for myself to have, only bad stuff for me. I have to go do the tutorial. I found the phone number. I forgot to retrieve something I’d sent to the printer here yesterday and the bums, “the Jew-circus” in my skull, making a big deal about that as a security risk with the “Thundervilles” or library-personnel or whatever getting hold of the info of someone else’s in that, which I’m thinking to put into a post-file here anyway, but still, all the “espionage.” “The Jew about itself/themselves” is where I’d left off here with trying to do this Clarke file. Then I finally checked the encyclopedia on Volta and I think it’s real bad, that Volta was one of the Autist-psychopaths, a high-functioning type. In fact from the area that that St. Chas. Borromeo was from, like Borromeo was the main high-functioning Autist template for this system we have now. He might have been connected to the Columbus business too. I’d guess that word’d gotten back to Europe that this part of the world exists and then the Columbus “discovery” was put together to go sailing and find and claim it.

9 june i guess, covered with animals. then i get here and they put this healthcare ad onto this thing i somehow managed to do last night, sent an email from the NEW to me smart cell phone to here and it did actually get through, the thing is that i’m covered with animals out here alone by myself as how the end of the planet earth is being made so i see this healthcare ad and it seems that the animals that the system specifically has around me right now chose that ad to go with my first successful email to here, which now i’m going to try to work on sending a photo but i’m a nervous wreck from the animals. there are mostly 2 of them today, one a “Thunderville-offspring-descendant type” and the other a “George Stephanopoulos-type.” Honest. I think that that’s descended from the “Saint Foy” statue model, the boy who’d eaten the brain of the little girl whose skull is/was in the statue. I think it’d started being in the head of the statue, reliquary, but they moved it to the stomach, but it’s said that it was/is supposed to be in the torso like it is. Then I guess it’d paired, through that Ghent Altarpiece “Pilgrim” before or after the St. Foy business, — so many things have happened two times that it’s nearly impossible to sort out the past for describing these “guesses” or figurings as to how things had gone/transpired… that the Pilgrim was leading the way back to recollected through dream-recollections or whatever to old traditional places the Autists believed they’d claimed first for themselves, all of Europe and Asia mostly and then from 1492 the New World of course, — so they’d paired with these what I think are generational-slaves, etc., that tall red-cloaked figure’s type, and they went into business “freeing” the world or claiming it for their group back under Siber-Mongolia, by selling brain-serum “feel good medicine” and then discovered how to “grow” people from masturbated-onto disembodied ovaries into this “Brave New World” we’re living in today that is being forced to TOTAL PLANET-EARTH EXTINCTION off of this horror-farce they perpetrate onto and off of Kathy Foshay, me. So I see this picture-ad under my first email off the new phone and it’s like it’s one or both of today’s types of monsters or system-types that chose to put that picture underneath my name. In fact the only picture I’ve had so far and sent, #126, that looks alot like this set up picture on the ID-card I’d had in Maryland, I finally figured out yesterday that this #126 came out looking like it does because it looks alot like that phonied-up for this sabotage Maryland identification card picture. Back then alot of this was going by like swearing that I weigh alot, that I’m actually a bio-relative of these disgusting things from the “fraud-parent” that are around by like the many thousands all over the place, from those Sousa and Vajiravudh Rama VI lineage “donations.” Over the centuries of this animalism and all over my type more specifically, back in that Renaissance, and now, I think “the Jew” -type, the generational-slave “St. Christopher” and all what, that that “magician” type has given myself to that type and this is just part of all what’s heading the earth toward tpe that you can’t just eternally give my type to be a forever-sadism victim as a reward to the Armageddon-army type/s, which is what that that I gather is background to this situation has been going on, here, have the little baby and when it’s older you can fertilize it’s ovaries and behead and eat and get high forever off of it.//Every day this torture starts at least by the five a.m. wake up and goes on and goes on and finally i get here and all i can do is complain about the crap i just got away from to finally get to — try to do the library work that i’m trying to do. When i’ve unloaded that what little time is left is all that gets done in any given day and then it’s back to the life-support mundane things like that it takes me over an hour to walk to the shuttle bus stop and i have to get food for dinner and then to the shelter, etc. and over again the next day, this whole millennium except for that 2-1/2 years in new york and then i was trying to be a home health care aide, like that picture is more or less, so what a coincidence that that was picked out. that’s why i just like to be by myself without connections to all these different types or “strains” of modern-day stereotypes around me, one of the reasons i want to just go do the florence sabin reading, away from all this “modern-day stereotypy” and what other people think, and then this invasion over the new cell phone-attempt. — I look up and see that some piece of garbage, for the “garbage-magic” I call it, — was sitting here right in front of me and by the time I could locate the trash can for it there were 5 different types of the trouble-making pollution or more all around me, five plus the general puppet-like manipulation of the people-pawns all around one in any public place, etc. — i got the cell phone started and saw that somehow the browser-icon is missing. now i just want to reboot it again before getting started, then found some “allo,” Allo, program by the search-engine people, but’ll have to lose that with the rebooting and try to try to find it again later maybe, unhappy with the trade-name of the search-engine, that that reminds me of the petroleum-world horror, that i guess the “St. Christopher” generational-slave type is like at the head of maybe. — Now there’s another major problem. I have a backlog of difficulties going back to when i’d noticed this 1492/stolen Vatican problem claiming the New World down to today, that i can’t get caught up and now this phone is like the devil’s playground, really, as the photo I took first is the painting in post #123, then the #122, by Andreas Mantegna back in the Renaissance, first the Parnassus painting, with the tiny guy in the red cloak like cursing the happy “newlywed” or having a baby announcement or such couple, then the other is the one of the “Pallas” girl character chasing the Vices, and that’s maybe like Isabel d’Este chasing types like the Charles Borromeo, who was something of an ancestor then to my figuring of the mister-mother t., where those both became saints, charles borromeo and then mr.-mother teresa, look the same, are the same family, and there’s the “Pallas” character chasing those like out of the way of that fire that’s raging toward their area but nowhere do any of the art write-ups mention that that’s a big fire raging on the top left corner there. The tree is tied down. Borromeo-type group is in the lower right hand corner. Now I’ve got this cursing little-sized red-cloaked figure like on the left side in the middle of post #123, Parnassus, having this new cell phone tell me i’ve had the incorrect password five times in a row. I only have one password. they have me entering it constantly and now all of a sudden it’s incorrect. the whole thing is just a game it seems, coming from alexander graham bell and this “brain-damaged brain-eaters” whole problem i’m all alone with trying to reach some assistance with this for. it’s just a “goof” to these goons from the fraud-parent and then today they’ve got this “Saint Foy,” as the model hasn’t a name that I’ve run into, and i can’t talk about living people whose wives have super-mojo even more than they do maybe! this is just a friday-weekend free torture LURE feast off of me as usual that “the town” or this area of the global-system of it is running off of my being stranded like this, year after year. I have to try to do useful things, schlep from one chore to the next and this photo is relevant to this Clarke School thing because Bell is from this same lineage it seems. and this cell phone keeps intermittently ringing a single bell sound, like every few, 2 or 3, hours it’s been doing that, and I’d set the alarm but couldn’t figure getting the 7 days screen up there and it just said it would ring tomorrow, so i thought tomorrow was this morning but i think it’s a joke like “manana” we’ll ring the alarm for you. How can the only password i’ve got be wrong all of a sudden, as this is just some typical “Armageddon Program,” armageddon-making program, “trick” or hoax onto me. rotten bums.// with this new healthcare ad-theme under the thing i sent, where i think the ad is gone now, the bums think that “nursing” means to FEED THEM. The Autists and their buddies want to be fed. Yesterday was the 1st time it’d occurred to me that Marx’s saying that, From each according to his needs and to each according to their abilities, to the Autists would mean that because of their disabilities they can only give so much but because of their disabilities they need more than the “others” do, so that to them Marx’ saying means that they give what they can and get taken care of completely while to normal people it means that they give what they can and they get the necessities that they can’t provide for themselves necessarily because of the way the so-called division of labor works, that it’s never been recognized that we’re invaded by those brain-damaged narcotics/hallucinogen dependent small-sized people over from being long-lost alone together in the New World, making up their own ways of survival off of just the flora and fauna and such. A big subject for instance is that they felt nature was always chasing and trying to kill them with things like volcanoes and tornadoes. Just recently tornadoes were all investigated and there’s like lightning going on inside them, electricity, and it should be obvious that nature had reasons for using tornadoes and that “Tornado Alley” down from Canada and through Kansas and to the Gulf of Mexico and the Autists had just plopped themselves in that path and then scream that nature was trying to kill them, no, get out of the way, nature is trying to make biological things you don’t yet know or understand anything about, don’t park yourselves there in its way, and the creating and everything has had to slow down to like sludge in order not to “scare” or threaten the little freaks whose brains know they weren’t supposed to go over to the New World, weren’t supposed to walk up into the snowy areas and get lost around the Aurora Borealis, wandering around for no one knows how long all up around there and the Yukon area. I figure they wound up around Montana collapsing into dinosaur nests and then just never felt like doing anything else but laying around and being fed by the dinosaur parents’ bringing mash to the nests. When the dinosaurs became disgruntled that their baby eggs were always being broken the humans took to the war games that are all like really has going on ever since increasingly, the Autists can’t break out of this up and go to war every day pattern because of the actual brain damage. That’s where that Halsey “illustration” would come in handy, that i have to try to get a note to see if i can use that picture for trying to explain this round and round in the same circles pattern that the damage put the brains that we’ve then inherited into.

11 June 2017, Sunday. I walked all the way out to Sheriff Road to get that Mendelson photograph and it was full sun and I don’t know if it came out and I don’t know if you can use camera-phones in libraries and I don’t know how to prevent this one from doing this bell-ringing noise once every two hours it seems to remind me that the phone set-up people, Jenique I think was the one who’d done it, had sent a first call and that that made some message to be responded to which I don’t know how to do yet. It did ring this morning at five a.m., but it’d also seemed to say that it had rung yesterday, then I’d found this white/red toggle and changed it from white or gray to red and this morning I’d heard the alarm go off, but I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off, that didn’t work, and it wound up on snooze but then never rang back again somehow and it got turned off or whatnot, guessing it won’t ring if it’s completely signed-off on and all, etc. So it’s unlikely that the Mendelson’s pictures had come out much. I’d already gotten the words from the DC Cultural Tourism website and they’re around as back-paper somewhere, daily notes jotted on the other side somewhere, so I tried to get this caption’s words and the photo but in the sun the whole camera just blanks out to all-black and there’s no telling if anything came out, then I just got back, at the Rosedale branch library, and it’s ten after 3 now, all day to do that, but I kept thinking that I don’t know how I’d survived it 2 years ago this time, that some days that was a 6 hour walk to get from downtown to that top of Sheriff Road there, but what a nice little apartment that really was to get back to then might have been what’d inspired me to make the trip not insurmountable. Then I got here and switched the machine off and it did something strange and out of habit from all the time on the Express machines I’d just Logged Off on it and then recalled that I’d done the same thing yesterday and what happens is I just lose my first hour of the 2 of time on computer. Now I’m just having the Armageddon Program making a scene all over me, some disgusting garbage or another this “Program” does to me, and now again, same duo. It might even have anything to do with that I didn’t get into that first machine, that I’d logged off on, then I’d have been caught between this disgusting act here that just moved to a different area of the library, some mother and son act, I’d’ve been stuck between that duo of Armageddon “Program” paid-off performers and some kid on the other side of me listening to some weird contemporary whatever. So I’ll try sending the 1950s Mendelson little photo tonight from the quiet top bunk where these technology-things seem to like being indoors — yep, 4th or 5th time this mother and son act knocked into me, this time her hanging her bag onto the screen here, me saying, You’re getting carried away, please and her then like ready to jump into a fray over whatever it is I say and now it’s cleaning everything in its area till it comes back from its sojourn to the boy’s area to harass-disturb me again so I can’t get through with this “ventilating” and getting things off of me and get onto anything ever useful and productive, this being like “the Merchant of Venice’s” blogsite and life more than my poor little own selve’s anything, all these different types of bums living off of whatever they can get off of me like one after the other nonstop all the time and all my life. A little kid with that criminally-insane narcotic-dependent stranger pretending to be my parent but really figuring on how many “offspring-descendants” it could make off of my ovaries, that I’m always “face-bombed” by anymore, anywhere I try to walk to I’ve always got some parade of them that pops up, of “too familiar-looking” faces, like I try to describe in that Washington Melange file, post #263, where that little girl looks the same as I had at that age, except that her hair is parted on the other side from where mine had been. She might have been the grandmother-ovae that I’d come from or what I don’t know or know how many of such there were, but I guess they’d largely come from Florence Sabin and/or Queen Victoria before that then, the line of small-sized ladies like me but bigger than this teeny thing I’ve become. What I’m trying to do today, since I can’t send about this next photograph yet, I was thinking to write to the homeless group/s where Smith College is, that more than anything else I’d have to find a safe address that people caring to donate to the Universe Rescue-attempt could write to toward getting donations to that, because anything that I’ve got all seems to be stolen by all these different “goon” guys, if it isn’t one anonymous set of thieves behind my back it’s a line of who’s next to claim whatever Kathy might have gotten out of her own life, is what they’re all doing all these years, and is the Armageddon Program hoax-gimmick, that behind my back since like 1979 the underworld tells people this malarcky-b.s. that’s too repulsive for me alone like this to mention, knowing that I’ve only got an hour or so and this time will run out, to be able to get into it. They attract people to where my hologram-image is “magic” prisoner in whatever all the underworld is and then they “disappear” any normal people, in addition to all the other gimmicks off of me like that it’s always basically been a pornography LURE from way back in that “French Connection” 1962 time-period, focusing on disappearing LURED innocents and replacing them with the mass-reproduced ones like the fraud-parent and what could be made off all the reproductive matter. Back again to disturb me, whisking around with a piece of paper to the back of my head, like signifying how “brain serum” or “juice” it’s slang-called, is gathered for getting high off, smearing it onto paper or plastic and getting it like LSD or other means like running it, I don’t really know, can only guess at these things. The reason for the Mendelson photograph is that they’d owned the property that Bailey and Bellson had then bought sometime down the line from the Mendelsons, I don’t know how many years apart their respective ownerships were and once getting the photo from the Cultural Tourism signboard from out in the Deanwood section of town I’d have to spend some time on this search-engine, the “Page-Brin search-engine” I think they should have called it, etc., and try to find those stories from out in Apple Valley, the Mojave area of California, again and pull this together a little big more. But those Mendelson’s had owned the old dude ranch for awhile and they came to Washington and ran a groceery store that became Murry’s foods around here and this Atlantic area, and in the meantime Bailey-Bellson had bought the property around 1954 for some exorbitant amount that doesn’t sound like it makes “sense.” In the West there was Aldous Huxley and his wife living through the 1940s or so and then there was the what became Edwards Air Force Base after the “sound barrier” sky-seal, ozone layer had been broken from there when it was still Muroc air field with the Army I guess, and to the East was this dude ranch and I’m saying those 3 things were inter-related/are. Next to Muroc air field was Pancho Barnes’ Happy Bottom Riding Club, a bar, and Pancho was the daughter of a guy named Thaddeus S.C. Lowe and he was one of these guys that looked like Peter Paul Rubens and Alexander Graham Bell and all of that type and I figure his daughter was out there continuing the work for this cannibalism-system that that generational-slave line was setting up for the “underdog” Autists, errantly. They weren’t underdogs like they always claimed, that “the others” had done them wrong, that that’s never been true, they have that Prehistoric-descended accident-set’s Autism-psychopathy from the brain damage incurred from walking back and forth across Beringia, thousands and thousands of years of that, till they got the ships going real good and then they’ve been doing it that way and then by the railroads and the cars and planes and there they were working on getting through the “glass ceiling” of the sky, where their rockets couldn’t get through some barrier from Germany so their WWII had fizzled and they transferred their act to here and particularly with that Chuck Yeager business, and I guess that Thaddeus Lowe had set up maybe the Rosamond area out there over to wherever Pancho the daughter set up business and what they really had out there was a big people-manufacturing industry for not just meat and drugs but this petroleum to make rocket fuel out of. So I went to get the picture of the in-between owners of the Apple Valley property and Murry Mendelson looks to be of the John Carroll (1735-1815) type of system-slaves. I’ve got one of them that’s in a photo on the sign-board with the Pearl and Lou picture, that it looks like the guy from the 1915 picture was a local ancestor of Lous’s but these are the same thing as the self-manufacturing Bauhaus and Russian Wehrmacht faces, these guys, come largely from that St. Charles Borromeo sadistic Autist-psychopath in Milan in the late Renaissance I guess, libel-slander for that opinion maybe but he was enormously bad and if you look under enlargement at the right lower corner of the “Pallas Chasing the Vices” painting the “Arrogancia” guy is the same as Borromeo and they likely became Bellson and Lenny Bruce et al., and if you look closely the guy’s got breasts and hair in the back to his waist, like an Apache. The hair is more obvious if you look at a black and white copy of the painting.// Then Murry Mendelson of the supermarkets has a son named Ira in this photo I’ll try to send tonight off of the Cultural Tourism signboard, on Sheriff Road in the Northeast section of this “diamond” here, and Ira doesn’t look like a little John Carroll type, but the photos might not have turned out at all and I can’t send them right now, etc.

June 14, really awful, but I’m trying to find a way to use the new cell phone for making memos and there doesn’t seem to be any possible. I’m afraid to log-onto here because the phone’s even more in control of the invisible-underworld than the computers and I’d log on and the program would slip back to homescreen with no log-off done or able to be done, that there’s doesn’t seem to be any sense in trying to make an expandable memo-file to here from the cell phone, just could use some app on the phone where i could just store this small ton of miscellaneous I’ve always got, that it would help me to be able to reduce the papers I have to carry, etc.

June 17, something terrible is happening, all the animals gaining or ganging up and drowning me, one bad trick-problem after another and now my emails to here aren’t arriving. June 22 — I went to the courthouse because some trick of a telephone message had been played and it really sounds like this is just completing a no-pay stint as being on jury duty even though you weren’t called, just like a filler without intention of calling me but it’s wrecked or wreaked havoc in my nerves over getting on that shuttle-bus without any problems every morning, that right off they’d caught me on that, “drawn blood” with that horrific “Thunderville performer” cast and crew Armageddon-making character and now it’s really ill but I don’t have to catch the first bus anymore because it sounds like those people, — I used to type court calendars, they’d know weeks if not months in advance what their schedule is or isn’t going to be, — haven’t any intention of requiring any juror-selections’ to be around next week either, that I could relax because it’s like hopeless that I’d get any work anyway, where I’ve been of the prepared-to-go-to-work-at-the-courts of all places mind-set, haven’t to be all pulled-together and having breakfast and carrying something for lunch and having busfare. Somehow I got the panic to get this Lifeline phone-camera out of the deal, but not any busfare to go see those papers, and now I realize that nobody’s going to publish my work on her letters or any such thing, it’s just a “stonewall.” I’m in indescribable shape with this realization that that odd-named googie-company really is (specifically) connected to the petroleum “industry” of pushing people into pits for their bodies to rot to petroleum. I always see one of the girls whose life seems to be specifically doing that, plus it looks like one of her ancestors is on one of these tourist boards also that I’d be trying to look up that if there was ever any — free time? for doing such a piddly-detailed thing, WW!!-time period newspapers or such for leads on where here that person had lived. Again it’s connected to this nearby Navy Yard and I can only suspect that that was the planned inferno-site but the whole concept of earth-takeover is only like a “screwball idea” by long-ago congenitally-brain injured people, me figuring that that’s what the boy on the Ghent Altarpiece was, and that that’s a main route to how we’d descended to this whatever this is that we globally have today, but I only see bad, believe that there isn’t anything that isn’t permeated by the brain-damage influence and that that’s leading the planet to going out, and that it’s for no real reason but this what I’m going through is hardly describable, since the stupid phony letter to be ready for serious-location work and the cell phone with all this smartphone ability and I guess also about explaining about Bell, that there are like 3 big additional difficulty-directions and my situation right now I’m not ready to mention, that that’s how bad this is. I’d sent a whole bunch of photos again to here that haven’t turned up yet if ever. I finally realize that just because they SOMEHOW are turned all upside down and flipped that they can be straightened out and then saved and that’s all, that that’s what I’m trying to do now since the new photos didn’t get here yet or won’t at all, I don’t know what the problems are. I sent a letter finally to Smith College but I’d lost their earlier email about the collection and so didn’t have that specific lady to write back to now that I’ve tried all I can do, and I’m always trying to think who might actually get off a duff and assist me with at least some busfare out of this inferno-set up the underworld 24/7 uses me for for all these decades, 24 years of this Armageddon-making “Program” or “Show,” and it’s just an exhibition of unlivable parasitism is all they’ve ever been doing off of me, that people on the other side of the world view this and see that a human can’t live unless whatever this parasitism is is blown up because they won’t do anything whatsoever to make the bad situation potentially viable, to take a few steps back and not torture me just because they’ve found these “magic powers” that only come from being dungeon-locked up, the “photo” whole thing. One of the few parts I haven’t had any chance to research about is the glass-making aspect of all this. All I got to was that it’d started in those Cevanne mountains or some such in southeast France, that glass-making had come out of there and from that I figure had come the photo-making that went into all this computer way of life, but I’m not even sure if the name Cevannes is spelled correctly, I never got to look into that part of all this.

25 June, Sunday, real bad error, that I unfortunately always try to be polite but I made an error — there isn’t any way around these set-ups, I’m probably lucky I don’t fall into more of them. Since this de-intelligence Plan closed the library downtown I’ve been stranded and haven’t any much choice about a library to go to and yesterday I noticed that this United House of Prayer for all people kitty-corner across from this branch library near the daytime-shelter has a design on its roof that looks like the logo-symbol or whatever for the d. 1925 Vajiravudh Siamese royalty character. I knew that there were problems with this area because I’d used to live near here and occasionally use the library before this big re-modeling job they’d done on it, that there were one or more characters around here that were very similar to the fraud-parent, and it was a creepy feeling while they were re-modeling the place that I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to be using this one. Today I got here a little earlier than usual and before I signed in some guy’d signed in that I’d thought might look like the fraud-parent or one of the “offspring-descendant” types but I’d glanced again and thought I was incorrect and went ahead and signed in and what they do is seat you one after the other and when I got to the seat again the guy did look like one of the offspring-descendants and his chair was blocking the path to this seat so I figured that this is just life and I expect everyone to mind their own business and I indicated that the chair was in the way and muttered something about hoping the guy isn’t trying to start any trouble and I sat down and this is a terminal that puts this annoying sign on that you have to click onto to acknowledge that there is some unusual program termination or words to that effect and I’ve gotten stuck at this machine and logged off and found out that logging off forfeits your time on the equipment and I couldn’t get around it except to call up internet explorer instead of the chrome I’d fallen into always calling up for simplicity’s sake. I got to this blogsite and was doing okay and the thing turned off — the program is somehow slightly different for (trying to) editing these pictures and in trying to get back to the file I got out of the blogsite altogether and that scares me terribly and it happened while this guy with the whole lifetime-fear and now, ha, eternal-fear one of this kind had mentioned once when I’d seen her outside and questioned her about this situation I’m in and what she might know about it, she’d said that it sounds like I’ve got some sort of an internal/eternal, word unclear sort of a word-trick there, difficulty or problem of my own, that that’s what this horror, science-fiction-horror I’m in is, an eternal horror enslavement to these Vajiravudh-types, “Thundervilles” I’ve started trying to describe-call give it a referable label to describe this by. So this one is sitting next to me and it is uncomfortable for me to begin with but then I’m always afraid, since 2005 especially it’s been going on that I try to find assistance here and I’ve never gotten a phone call or envelope of mail or now an email or any sort of response from the hundreds and thousands to requests that anyone do a little something to lend me a hand out of this quicksand and, obviously, the system has been using me as a LURE-bait and then they intervene and trap any respondents and that is how the system has been supporting this Armageddon since 2005 and then little by little or what back as far as to 1964 with this “disappearance” of the normal types of people, so that I’m — worried? a little suspiciously protective or God knows what this might be described as, horrified, — a little worried that those “Thunderville” and other types of the system-parasites in their many forms are more and more and less stealing this blogsite from me and using it toward their murder-ends, that when this “program unusually terminated” or however exactly the terminology is that it’s always at this 18th computer and then variously elsewhere sometimes, puts it, then happens to me like that it’s really scary and I have no one to talk to so I’m jotting this but it’s a tremendous waste of time. This screen is way different from how the screen is on the chrome program, and the “bing” name worries me too, that it seems a little peculiar also.

June 29, it’s really bad and worsening. I tried sending a copy of this to a women’s group in falls church and then again to the forbes library’s ms. fk, and now i’m as usual sorry i can’t think of anyone potentially useful toward actually getting anything done. the inferno-area shelter’s owners had some big off-site meeting at this end of the month time and the whole day was overly rigged so badly that i can’t mention it because it’s an end of the month for the merchant of venice et al that live all, that all live all off of me like this, it was so bad. Then I haven’t had much chance to do too much about getting a picture i can put on the home page but i just gave it a try and see that they’re only going to put that big square of a picture over the title and that leaves all that blank space to the right of it then which i don’t understand, but i think i got that as a little “gravure” or some such that they call the small picture that accompanies emails, it’s a lousy picture but i got one of those up i think. always it’s who can i try reaching, twenty times a day with of course the torture snatch-catching onto and then repeating that it into my head before i can think it. i have to pull myself together to respond to that tax letter business but i’m also trying to get rid of as many of those old and extra papers so i don’t have to hand-carry them as i can, which sort of brings up the thing i can’t talk about till after the first, and then the system has another “holiday” coming up, tuesday without any libraries open. I’d have to dedicate it therefore to getting photos of these papers. that means i have to decide about doing this “re-set” again, that it always seems like some error is planted, a mis-spelling that the phone will keep re-using instead of spelling the blogsite url correctly or some early mis-typing or choice i’d made early on, best to get it erased and start fresh before a big venture like the picture-taking i’d be trying to get done then somewhere probably on tuesday, but i’d have to be by a re-charger too; that’s where there might be some set-up problem, that the phone/computers recall back to some setting on the picture-taking maybe that was incorrect, i think i’d feel more comfortable just erasing and starting over, which loses that gallery the phone collects but might do some good anyway, etc. for this lousy waste of time all the time. i sent copies to the maryland groups and all i can do is try to get the pdf’g done so i don’t have to keep those 2014+ messy pages, just give up and hope i could find somewhere that isn’t a trap safe to walk to to get away from this same old same old horror here, is what i stay at unfortunately for same old same old. -30-

July 1, toilet-bowl extravaganza day all over poor little me, covered with this unsustainable system’s parasites all over me in order to get fed off of this LURE it seems, with 2 new acts because I have to use this branch library out near what I call the “inferno-making shelter,” inferno-area shelter, that I suspect the original Armageddon Plan had called for the inferno blow-up’s being out here, now they’ve got this “father and son shahan” with 2 different sets of players so far as being horror-threat haters of me/my type, and some guy that looks like the county court clerk back in 1987-88 when I hadn’t passed the probation period for a civil service job and i’d written an objection and been ignored except that all this “following” around of me had started, common underground standard operating procedure obviously now in way-retrospect, they just did that and I couldn’t find another job to keep up an apartment and I’d applied for a disability compensation orr payments for a year because of the inability to find another job to pay rent by and they’d sent me to a phony psychiatrist act. In fact I thought of where, God, — I have to locate a copy of a book that I’d seen a picture of a guy that probably looks like that particular psychiatrist-character in but it’s a book by and about a well-known figure who right now, — and he’s getting up and walked away, but for the last fifteen minutes this “offspring-descendant/bio-child” of that well-known guy has been sitting conspicuously in my peripheral line of sight and I hadn’t recognized that he, this kid, looks like that well-known figure till now, only know that he’s an annoying character useful for this “Armageddon-making Program,” and there goes another — difficulty, for me, as it’s a first-of-anything for the system to go around sabotaging for any normal people so they can live off of the normal people plus it’s a weekend for the LURE-workers plus they’ve got a “holiday” on Tuesday, that I’m always tortured toward, invisibly-tortured for any calendared “holiday” the system can think-up but — the sick well-known “Mr. Popularity” really he is, that one’s secret bio-warfare offspring-descendant is conspicuously always all over me around this library and then they missiled a chanacter to conspicuously sit and pull out cookies and eat next to me, and this is after this new Shahan-stereotype’s new ongoing role, and this “Mr. Popularity” kid is always pacing around like today wearing bright orange for attention or cook’s pants sometimes and now talking at my direction coincidentally, with some phony conversation with the library, now fiddling with its pants, in this peripheral-vision line of sight trying to ignore all these strangers who are never going to be anything except strangers to me anyway. This branch and the other branch the same as this nightshelter and that dayshelter, back and forth shuttle. The Jury Service ended yesterday so I don’t have to do that simulated as though they might really call to show that I could show up bit by going in that downtown-area but nor would anyone want to be stuck stranded out here with all these “hungry performers,” potential performers, hungry ready willing and able “American idle” and military people all out here,  especially the Navy types, now this other conspicuous one next to me is doing something similar around its crotch-area, conspicuously, and my time getting wasted with trying to clear my mind of all this s*** before I could try to focus on anything real-level, all these characters, with the “Merchant of Venice,” just scrutinizing and squeezing for anything they can find to criticize and I had/have to send thee scroungy-looking gutter-notes I’m having to made on what these bums are doing now and doing now onto my days because the stuff the system does is all unmemorable, the sneaky way they take over, not their big entertainments.

I’ll have to try to take and send some picture that I can put up top as a logo with the question to wordpress of what can be done with all that empty-then screen to the right of the one little big logo picture, that all that square area of the screen is left blank then and the first post is pushed down to where it’s barely on the screen.

7/15/17, Saturday, these animals are killing me, usual Armageddon horror “Program.” Everything I try to do is twisted for this horror underworld b.s., the sneak-world all against me all day long every day, using some new girl that’s from Queens to put a skin-feeling covered red Bible and a cell phone wrapped in a red rag all onto the truck I use at the Catholic Charities’ inferno-hole, where they had a scene of the front doors’ being worked on last night, big LURE scene that they’re letting everyone in, likely to evaporation-chamber world down there. That horror-lady was gloatingly “show” with the unknown-company guys doing that at entry time, and it occurs to me that maybe what’s so evil about her all these years is that she’s a hybrid of the nice type of female’s’ ovae being fertilized by descendants from that French Revolution’s Louis XVI. I haven’t researched him but suddenly I’m noticing all these dark-haired people who might be from him, that Marie Antoinette’s husband, that that, from this phony underworld, was likely an inside-job, all rigged, where the brain-eaters rigged for their slaves to do the french revolution. now they’re doing phony signs on the computer both that i have to log off and don’t have to.

7/20/17, everything is terrible. I’m just in this vacuum of nothingness except my time “playing” like with a dollhouse here by myself, two hours a day and then all that torture till another two hours and all kinds of weird crap done to throw me off of even that. I got off-kilter when I couldn’t get the emails to myself and it’s so confusing trying to figure all this without any friend. No replies from anywhere same as usual and now I’m all blocked up with the photos’ not reaching here so I can proceed with this attempt to get rid of all the papers I can but I never know what I might should have for some legal difficulty as the system-goons in all ways are like on alert-status to descend at any vulnerable opening-moment. I ventilated last night because of bizarre new scenes at the night-shelter between that site-director and the “Thunderville-performer” horror-character, I ducked them and got to the dorm room and, like now they’re doing it, and now they’ve added the library scarier-noises, like marching or rocket-take-off noises on top of the bizarre shriek noise they always do, merely because I haven’t anyone to talk to so am trying to use this opportunity to think by describing my “mess” I’m in, as I leave here and there’s hardly anything except the gutter-circus going on till i get back to the two hours. I ducked the bizarre scene in the bathroom and had to talk while trying to get into the bunk and was saying my usual about that THIS is how the book of Revelation is being pulled off, and I’m getting a little naming-names with that the Catholic Charities was started by a bunch of criminals thinking they’d be taking over the planet or whatever back then, and this “new girl” from Queens got out of bed and said she was going to report a hate crime and I finally got her to explain what hate crime and she said that she was sitting there reading her Bible and I was talking that to her, which I wasn’t but I can’t live in this virtually 24/7 silence to myself vacuum and the shelter-girls always have things like that done to me to make me quiet, so that I just haven’t got any outlet except this and never hear a word and it feels ridiculous to be preparing it for potential readers while I’m constantly in this fear of people’s reporting me to authorities that might again have me ambulance-abducted or hit by a car or what, that it feels terrible leaving the computer without even sending off an email that has a potential for getting a response, but I’m just in this bind where I can’t reach anything, can’t reach enough of these floating pieces to be able to get much done except sitting here. I’m supposed to look into this EIC tax-refund business, like I’ve cleared up some work and ventilated to get myself to an even keel for trying to download and look into the tax manual information now but my time’s up, and this library is ridiculous. It’s just an extension of how the Armageddon’s been being done from the main library around 10 blocks south of here that’d closed down, the MLK. That library was like a “free gift from Chicago” except behind Chicago was Berlin and behind that Leningrad and behind that the Siber-Mongolian actual system hiding-place. They say Mies van der Rohe was its architect and I keep trying to say that Mies had been identity-replaced, that that was an impostor as this system keeps taking over, and now it’s seeming like impostoring is just a shoulder-shrug happenstance. In fact I was thinking of that Bob Dylan song, Everybody Must Get Stoned, and it seems that that’s really what’s happened, that it’s shoulder-shrug importance to anyone about these system-ways, the “LSD” brain-fluid narcotic is just the way it is anymore attitude. This building’s phony noises now are nerve-wracking. It’s way smaller than the one that’s closed now at 9th and G Streets that always did this noise at nearly the end of every one of my days, they’d go into this underworld-noise. I think I thought it represents or signifies that LURED people are coming into this “show” off of me or what; it’s really bad. I don’t even like to guess about anything. My typing is ostensibly the prime mover behind the bizarre sound effect so I’ll have to quit, for now.

21 July, this is just all filth, like a “holiday” twice as much level of filth. It started with “the Jew’s” I guess arranging for some shelter-girl to sneak-stuff up one of the 3 toilet bowls, and I was just able to catch it but it did spill over some so that I had to ask the staff person if she had a plunger and now another problem, shit, the whole day shit.– a phony conversation with this “type” that wouldn’t back off off of me just earlier at the sign-up, — and it’s probably a same “type” as had stuffed-up the toilet bowl on purpose, this “invisible (Armageddon) warfare,” with this duo now with the phony conversation behind me, going on and on. I just missed being able to ask for a different computer, finally the turd moved a little so that it’s less phonily targeted “accidentally” on purpose right at me. She’s doing a routine similar to one done by a staff person when I started yesterday also, some nonstop-talking routine to match my attempt to clear me head of this feces that seems the whole Plan. When I saw that the toilet was done like that all I could think was that they’d only put a Do Not Use sign onto it and the whole weekend would be about this backed-up toilet line so I tried to flush and wait and flush until the paper cleared but it had to have been set up on purpose with a big ball of brown paper so that it wouldn’t clear and I didn’t  have my glasses on and it ran over slightly without clearing so then I asked staff about a plunger and that little turd security guard said there wasn’t one but the staff-person found and brought it and used it herself to get that straightened out while I was then using the other regular stall, but when she walked into the bathroom with in one of the regular “Program” plants, a problem from my problem on the 15th that I don’t think I mentioned because I can’t just complain about the invisible tortures all the time, the girl told the staff that I don’t know what I’m doing, I’d flooded that and then was in the other stall or some such “gossip” and lie as though I’m what they are doing to me now at this library “Program” off of me, that I’m retarded and don’t know what I’m doing, am a moron, etc., and that lady with this phony boy is stiff running her mouth right behind me. The place seems to have “Thundervilles” all around from the fraud-parent and this guy might or might not be one of them, might be from Herman Kahn either, just a general type. He might match, be from a same line as, the girl I think “the Program Jew,” that does the Armageddon-making off of me, had directed to stuff the toilet. All that work to get it unstuffed between me and the staff-person both doing things to clear that up, what kind of filth that would have been breeding in that former-morgue location all day and then sometimes they just put and keep a sign on those “Out of Order” stalls when there really isn’t a problem, like this was, but could have been so filthy in the air of that place, instead of the open and clean room it could alternatively be, that that’s what the Jew seems to be purposely preventing. Increasingly I’m starting to think they’re just criminally insane their own selves voluntarily anymore, these 2 behind me still going on and on with their phony b.s. This guy had walked up to nearly right on top of me, same thing they’d done here yesterday with two young girls that I had to ask them three times to please back off me, just like Smith school freshmen or such but they were too close, please, you’re making me nervous I told them and the same pattern happened with this 6-foot tall goon-boy just now, please, I even had to tell him that larger people should give more space to those around them, and the bum wouldn’t back away but just watched me having to type in the card-number because the machine isn’t working properly, and I said that I hope someone would show him as much consideration as he was showing me, which I maybe have never said a “curse” like that onto anyone, but he was just like Herman Kahn standing there too close and looking straight at me, now, through with the phony scene he’s gone back and done another scene right here and muttered about talking so much and stormed off, — and likely to where that United House of Prayer is right kitty-corner from here, — now he’s really gone and taken the seat opposite this computer, to really “invisible warfare” anonymous whole underworld-group that he must be with, target me, and terrorize me, that that’s what this library is all hooked-up for, but it also was hooked-up for this to some extent since years and years back, as they made some bizarre similar “building noise” back in 2001. This big boy is super-obnoxious and I suspect it’s connected to this “new girl” from Queens and that she’s connected of course to the new Administrator’s being from Queens but also to the whole fraud-parent offspring-descendant Run DMC DMC, that the girl might be a “combo-bombo” off of now-old DMC and some big-sized dark lady, and then she was planted in a bed across from me, the one I’d been stranded in until recently finally thank goodness transferring beds, — the building noise has upped to the hysteria level. The only thing I could do is to forfeit this hour and then I’d just have some other sick problem at a different “terminal” that’s not across from this performing boy, who really does might come from Herman Kahn before getting mixed into more recent generators. My point is that the whole day has been purposely-created excrement by this “Merchant of Venice/Coppola-Jew type,” Armageddon Program/Armageddon-making torture director. When I went to the Bethany’s to do my one weekly chore detail of sweeping after breakfast there was a similar act, that they’ve had this pecular “pouty-fraced” girl all these years and the last time I was there, new theme, I was trying to plug in to re-charge this phone, that the cell phones have to be charged like every single day sometimes more as you’re learning them, so I’d landed near the plug near where she was and I saw that she couldn’t reach her seat when she walked back to the table without the cord’s being in the way so I decided to move the chair to the wall and put the phone on the chair there so the cord wouldn’t be in the girl’s way and while I was moving the chair and bag and phone and other bag she returned and wouldn’t walk around me but wanted me out of the direct route so she’d step over the little cord but you wouldn’t have to if you went around my right side instead of my left side, was all, same thing last time I’d sat in that seat and then saw that difficulty and went to adjust the chair but she showed back up, only last time she almost knocked me over and insisted on stepping over the little cord. I’ve been in these shelters with this girl since maybe 2009 or 2011, I don’t know when in there she showed up but I wound up sitting across from her alot at the dinner table and she always has this odd pouty expression without ever speaking to me. It makes me think of that Indian “Chief” character from the Kesey story, One Flew Over the Cuckoo Next or Cuckoo’s Nest, just like stoic and unspeaking. When I got out of the hospital in 2014 she went to sit down across from me one evening when there seemed to be plenty of other places and I sort of went into a little panic that I just couldn’t stand that same routine as before I’d gone into the hospital’s being repeated again, to please not sit near me if it isn’t necessary, that I can’t stand that (cuckoo) act, and she’s never said anything to recollection except maybe excuse her as she’s walked by sometimes maybe, and once in an “Activity”-class at this other place she’d seemed bright and spoke about herself a little but then has been like that “Chief” since then again, and when I explained to her and she bulldozed through the cord anyway I was surprised and then today the same “choreolgraphy” occurred with her showing back up and insisting to walk as though I’m not there and busy doing something there, just get out of her way, and that made me do :my babbling” a little, like had caused the Queens girl to start shouting about hate crime the other night, but this time I was saying that, the underground always has people cause problems for me wherever I go, you know all that, it’s been a long time, that I’ve explained that, and “synchronicity-magic” or whatever, but that speaking out loud to try to reality-orient in the midst of all these bizarre-behaving “normal citizens” makes me nervous, because also at the table was another regular like her. My point here is that this longtime girl is possibly a “combo-bombo” from the “science” makings of this fraud-family that poor little me had grown up with, and I’ve never mentioned this and it’s likely significant because she’s like this “determined” against me character and I don’t know why! I see her all the time say from 2010 or -11 and there’s always this benign to nasty air like of what she’s thinking, what her reality is and mostly what on earth her role in this is that she’s always around, so all I can figure is that she comes from a “science combo-bombo” that maybe she knows about but I don’t. Except for that one day when she’d talked in an activity-class a bit she always wears the same hairstyle and it makes me wonder (a word I don’t like to use because the system translates that to one-door, entry into an underworld,) if she doesn’t represent Mongolia, honestly, or Genghis Khan. It’s like two braided pigtails under maybe a hat like a baseball cap/helmet, two little braids, one on each side or not even braids but that helmet and hair on each side hanging down like pigtails effect, that perhaps is old Mongolian. Then her name stands for/sounds like Denial, and with that pout all the time that’s what I guess it is, and she seems like maybe a charge of Denial of something on my part, that I deny to admit, 1- that the Julie-whore is better than I am, or, 2- I haven’t any idea, adding lately that maybe she’s a charge against me that I’m denying something about this combo-bombo fraud-family business, and now, 3- maybe she’s a charge that I don’t admit to all this horror, invisible-sex horror that females I guess besides just me have all been having perpetrated against themselves. It probably isn’t that complicated. If you have to stretch your imagination because this stuff is always in your face and what’s the explanation for it though, I “wonder” by thinking only I ever mean, if she might not be what happens if you “cross” that fraud-unclue that looks like the Civil War’s Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, the middle one on that cartoon-like illustration of the 3 that I try to use to express this “Bronx Zoo” “Ape and Essence” horror being perpetrated by the global-system, if you crossed a guy that looks like Edwin Stanton with a little blond girl, if that atrocity isn’t why the girl’s act is always to seem pouty around me because I don’t do anything about that heinousness. In fact I haven’t any idea, I did see one blond girl at that place who did look like the blond girl, that the 2 younger girls might have come from the same ovae of, a cousin I’d grown up with but then I couldn’t find out anything about, Dawn. There was someone on the social media with her name that looked nothing like her. None of the fraud-family speaks with me except one that doesn’t say anything useful till I’m better off without contact and I’d asked and didn’t get any response that I can recall about Dawn. She and her brother were adopted children, and the brother’s face is, was, on one of these Cultural Tourism DC signboards but I didn’t see if last time I went that way and it might be on the one that’s been whitewashed because I guess one of the pictures looked like he must’ve been an ancestor of the 44-45th Administrations — I’m terrified of controversy so I try not to attract attention by name-dropping. — This is what all that terrorism and nonstop machine-gunning talking into my back was for, my whole session wasted on this nervous-talk.

— later this same day, that that same girl is still running her mouth, some trick of pre-knowing what 2nd terminal I’d get assigned to and sticking her across from me with another phony partner to perform this talk-act with, before with that rude big Herman Kahn guy and now with some ordinary-seeming other girl. This girl running her mouth near me looks like the girl on the Cultural Tourism DC signboard at 11th and P Streets, NW, that I’d made a note to look up about this but I never get a chance to and can’t find my notes ever, live like an animal in a washing machine lucky if I can touch bases with necessities. She’s an art-subject, her mother or grandmother was, in a reproduction parody of the famous “American Gothic” painting by Grant Wood, maybe in the 1930s he’d made that, I don’t recall, not too long ago. Then another guy who’s name escapes me did an art-extravaganza of “American Gothic-DC” or some such. She’s moved away now, the stream of word-garbage at me has ceased. Usually when these people do that forcing syllables through you it hasn’t any positive purpose. I’m probably carrying the notes on the guy-artist’s name, but really, he’s probably one of the Autists. He and she maybe were “spawn-siblings,” one or the other or both ways. Then the signboard after that signboard on that tour is missing, the signboard that’s posted to be at 12th and P Streets, NW wasn’t there. I used to live at 12th and N Streets, just down the street from there, might have something to do with why that one was removed, so I wouldn’t recognize anything that was on it or whatnot, but it’s gone and I’d like to look up, #8, what they say is on it. They only tell you about approximately half of what’s on each of the signboards, their brochures only include maybe one side of the material, one side of the signboard and the other material that’s there if you physically go to it isn’t mentioned. I’m wasting the little time, as they’d been blocking the copy machine so I couldn’t send a few pdfs during the time between the (daily limit) two one-hour, 70 minutes, computer time-sessions. Etc.

7/22, saturday, again the “Program” monsters had to get my morning all messed up so i’d waste time having to do this to relax, horror library branch at 7th and Rhode Island, NW, clerk named Jenna doing a rehersed scene of first taking up time at the computer-sign in “machine” and then doing an abrupt “turn” llike to turn on me but I’d wandered away to look up something, just a teeny girl much like myself she is but I’m all alone with the invisible way the underworld is making the real end of the real planet and they throw say 200 of these strangers a day to play tricks like this and it went on then with a scene for about 15 minutes till she logged me in by hand with the slow system or God doesn’t know or care what, all “Thunderville” tricks attached to this scene and I got logged on separate from all these other people and go to here and my library card sign up number was changed, the whole to-do a mind game over that the “stupid” thing was due to be changed so the system wants to put a negative onus to the new sign-up number that i’d be seeing all of the time, that i will hate the new number and it happens to be the same now as everyone else is said to have where they use the first four letters of your last name, as opposed to that they’d been using “na” for me hitherto. all this s*** about nothing every single moment of my life when I’m not able to be doing what i’m trying to do. now they’ve got me speed-typing to get this over with on here but the real ulterior motive is that the whole place is rigged and has this hideous haunted-house horror-squeak noise rigged to the ceiling or what and while i wait and wait for this jenna to do her real important logging me in and ordering me which computer to go sit myself at that noise gets louder and louder, to the crescendo they always work up around poor little me who actually does have some “news” that here i am and should just “spill” onto here even though this is the first time i’ve ever been here early and i’d just wanted to quietly work on the media-file for as much time as i can eke out of here since i’d gotten here early, not do this “controversial” typing.

25 July, 2017, — Horror-torture, but I’d thought that this is when that WordPress WordCamp was scheduled for. I haven’t any idea what I was doing July 14-16 when it actually was long past ago now, will be trying to look back and figure. The torture started right off yesterday morning with ideas-of-reference that more or less went on all day and then the UPO-bus did some “standard” trick-set and then the shelter was super-horrible and then there was the molestation-torture for at least an hour last night so that I was horrified and swearing aloud and then into the oversleeping for my personal preference of when I’d like to wake up and get out of there in the mornings, but especially today because I’d planned to look into this Nasi book, that book about Joseph Nasi and his aunt Gracia Mendes or whatnot, 700 pages and it’s on the catalog for this Southwest branch library so I had to make a special trip and today was the day and I’d thought that all the torture was connected to the WordCamp but thank goodness that was a long time ago. The book then isn’t here so I was “torn” between staying and just getting the WordCamp following out of this rigged location. It even looks like the book might not have even ever been here, just been some fictional entry in the catalog because it’s listed as being a paperback where the MLK, the big library, had only had the only copy and that was hardcover, so that I don’t know if this was just for LURING me to this SW location sometime and today was the day and I didn’t know to stay or go but this is the standard “Armageddon Program” except just without that extra worry I’d had, sort of making it better because there’s little difference otherwise between one branch’s holocaust-torture and other’s, without that extra worry of the WordCamp. Then I looked up WordCamp and they have those all over the place, all over the world. I’ll try to figure out what was holocaust-going on around me when it really had been held, hoping everything wasn’t horror, but today is real real bad. — Now I recall, it was about the same thing, like this morning’s toilet-room scene was about the same as on the 15th, that that whole time was like a holocaust-run for days and days. I don’t recall the 14th yet offhand. It’s also one of this pattern of things’ happening twice, historically like that and then with the car-hit is was like that and this is repeating what was just awful-horror that weekend. I don’t know when I’d read the notice that that would be coming here to DC and yet it seemed it wasn’t until now. Maybe I’d read it on the 7th and it seemed I had some time, and then this “holocaust-run” affect did the whirlwind and when it was over I somehow had the date mixed in my mind from the 14th to the 24th. There was possibly some ritual around that date of the 14th, there had been a trick related to that. But this is how they’re doing those “Bible” -threats. More and more I suspect they’d stolen the “book” like from that girl in that Blame cartoon, the Adam and Eve dispute with the “counselor,” I think that that type took control of the disputed property and it evolved to this Bible- and religion- business of sit-underground parasites that just watch and pounce on anything that moves out here, in the normal realm for Earthlings, to lift up and off of, not go the opposite way down into the planet. I figure too that the system-people suspect they’ve already destroyed possibility for Earth-continuance, they’re always self-dramatic like that, telling themselves that they broke it, they broke it, oh well, it’s going to be gone soon anyway, just ignore the pleadings to quit torturing everyone and everything, therefore; eat, drink and be merry, etc.

7/26, I’m all messed-up by this wrong date on the WordPress’s WordCamp, that that was a feces-sabotage job onto me and anyone around me, and this is ten days later and it just got a little bearable and it’s just learned about by me and sinking in a little this morning of how holocaust all that was, and this library that the most of it had transpired from was like set up for a prison for the things made from the ovae stolen from me, a slaughterhouse for them, in this “eternal” entrapment feces-system and personal situation of mine with that horrific fraud-parent and one of the regular Neanderthal-Library Police just walked in like one of those too now. Really I don’t see the guy unless it’s scripted for there to be a problem, and everything’s been being a problem for me. I can’t sign into this blogsite the first time in a day, as i did just sign in without that problem now but they’ve got a new thing where the wordpress program won’t let me log in anymore without me going through gymnastics to get my click-on to take. Then on the night of the last day of the 3-day WordPress event the “nightshelter” site-director called that meeting and announced all this new time-change, like how does a time change decision occur on a Sunday night? But that might be connected to the WordCamp because I’m getting this nonstop harassment-problem about that time change right to now and it looks like it will be continued and continued, “the Jew” knowing that all i can have on my mind anymore is that i’ll be eligible for signing-up for social security in about two and a half weeks, then wait for the age-62 first check and get the you know what out of this horror-town, to some similar s***-throwup they’ll have ready. In fact the place I’m trying to get to has got one of these “renovations” and it seems like those are mostly pay-offs to wherever i go for the favor of keeping up these harassments to me. Just before coming into this horror-hole location long-planned I called the shuttle-bus and the whole thing started on the night of the — I’ll have to get a calendar, that Sunday night. — I checked, it was Sunday the 16th, ever since the 16th I’m being harassed about this bus business and I’m working hard to get to where I’ll have no controversies but they’re doing it on purpose and it’s just “the” joke that no matter what I do the system is only looking for opportunities to cause problems, like with forcing me to call the bus company twice now where they’re only looking to make problems, so that I’m thinking that this new schedule idea had emanated from showing the WordCamp what an animal-problem, what a barbarian-problem I am, and it was decided to get me out of the downtown-area earlier so now there’s all this inconvenience ever since then and today it’s just too stupid, that the joke is to force me to get there for a four o’clock bus and then just hang around till one gets there maybe five thirty, maybe six thirty, depending on how the votes for what to do to me go them.

July 29, Saturday as usual the torture is killing me killing me killing me with this retardo-drone Shaw-library “building noise,” but even scarier than this manufactured horror is that yesterday the frigging sabotage-noise was singsonging, not just the misery-noise it always makes whenever I’m here, which they’d always made some sort of noise, back in 2001 before this horror-remodeling or renovation or reformation, but yesterday, that library clerk that I’d described as being a “turd,” he appeared back and was working with the guy at the terminal across from me and a whole new sabotage idea-of-reference line is being worked up but additionally this crap had started doing like a “happy, humming, goody” noise that’s just as terrifying as this disgusting noise is. This clerk was at another branch and when I’d walked into there once a 6-foot tall “transvesto” in dominitrix-get up had walked over and blocked my entry, and this is a clerk who’s only a substitute role-filler for the first “Armageddon Program” role-player of some fictional crap that never has anything to do with me or with reality, which is what was scary about the happy-singsong affect of this bui.lding noise as yesterday was the first time since I got this library card that I’d been allowed to just sit and do this till I had to leave anyway, where my time has been cut down by 2-1/2 hours every day since they did this big thing about changing the Catholic Charities’ shelter-hours, that my days have all been cut short, and they did horrendous idea-of-reference tricks last night to psychiatric incarceration for myself, and rituals for that the night before just off of what little I notice about the goings-on around me that I’m not actually doing or involved in, and then today’s been a bunch of the LURE-tricks, that that’s just what they’re pulling underneath me. Briefly I “have to” because it’s real, want to mention that before the WordCamp they’d had a Microsoft convention right here too, from the 9th to the 13th, as why this branch library had unexplainedly closed-down for maintenance problems four out of five days that week, me just finding the notes from that period last night or the night before, trying to re-construct the goings-on of this whole month of July for myself, my situation, and then I think maybe it was when the WordCamp then started on the 14th maybe that this branch had re-opened, and the following week it’d gotten way-vicious, like the days following the WordCamp were especially bad but “the stupid, crosseyed girl” character that I’m prisoner to that I am, can only be, am drowned in these system-helpers, by them, I’d thought the WordCamp wasn’t until this week just passed, ten days after it had actually been held, so that I was oblivious to how bad the personal sabotages were, I was wrongfully looking ahead and making plans to be uncontroversial-excuse gimmick for when the WordCamp was held, but it was all back then already, etc. There are so many of these things that take me away from getting any real-life-level blogsite-work done.

8/1/17, Tuesday, the viciousness of this “invisible” -torture always takes me unawares, I can’t believe anyone would speciailize in just bothering little me like this, and that it’s always going nowhere, is always like the s***-throwup level except when I’m reading or writing and then it’s just sneakily glomming all over me and that’s probably mostly how the LURE goes on, making believe all of the sudden that whatever I’m doing out here is interesting, that I’m left alone to do this for the little while and when I leave the libraries the same old set of the tortures is back till I do some reading or writing again, everyday for more than 20 years this same pattern except twice as bad during the bigger-kill times they do off of using me like this, like this is bad all around me too with the brain-eating theme.
8/2/17, Wednesday,
They’re, the whole usual “society” underworld, is doing a massive “show”/ Armageddon Program of parasiting off of me today so that I had to open this rather than do the scanning to here first, because there’s never a real human I can ever speak with, that this blog now is the only thing I’ve got except for the few papers explaining all this nightmare -attempted explaining, that I can carry at a time, etc., so I opened this for self-protection from this demi-underworld or whatever they’re all sneaking around doing, that seems especially pointed today, like conning me into trying to get this scanning done today, etc.
all these “Thunderville”-faces, fraud-family seemalikes extravaganza of s*** all over me combined-underground groups’ extravaganza, mostly the “Merchant of Venice” and Catholic Charities, like surrounding me with these “sea-monkey” -made growths/peoploids all like missiled to sneak-punish me for what the scripted Armageddon Program directors tell them to think and perform, disgusting me to death males and ugly-type females typical Program for the cannibalism-distraction entertainment from the larger real things going on in the world, like that the system is under Siber-Mongolia with nothing to do with this crap these “monsters” are driving me out of my mind by, these turd-males know how to ejaculate, ejaculate, big deal bums of all, big deal bums all around me, knowledge of personal and for other guys’ ejaculation expert-boys, crawling all around me, these growths from the Jewish Bathgate Avenue Market captured-time fraud-family people, those’s ejaculation put all over ovae all over and these “sea-monkey” products of big corporations or other businesses, crotch-heads, one of them missiled on top of this wwhole day of b.m., and every one of say a hundred performers since last night will swear it’s not doing anything, none of the underworld-missiled people is ever doing anything — might be where this theme for today had strted from in fact, on Monday, leaving the Shaw library one with this-that face next to me posteuring had been posteuring or just standing there or whatever as I’d walked out the door and it turned and grabbed the door I’d opened and it was “only” going inside the building, not doing anything of course, none of them ever is, the whole global-underworld affect for themselves, — they come from criminally-insane line probably through that Rama NI from old Siam (Vajiravudh,) but wherever they come from they’re from that criminally-insane fraud-parent most recently. I saw the guy just standing facing away from the door and I went through it and it turned and grabbed the door to enter while it was open from my exit and I scooted to get aside from it, it was probably following underworld or satellite-directive on when and what to do and not of course aware of me or anything but just busy listening to the “invisible” directions and I said, Don’t bother me, and scooted aside but I meant the Don’t bother me for all of this whole paradigm or what of this b.s. of these product-strangers and the pretended attachment “script” that is distraction from the reality, Armageddon reality, etc. The boy did the standard underworld “jump off like crazy” routine of attack-denying doing anything that the whole underworld seems trained to pull when a normal protests anything. And that’s all that had happened, that one walked into the Shaw branch with its mouth yapping and I proceeded to what I had to go do next, but the underworld “directors” of the real Armageddon determined to make that into a theme that they started doing rituals in the dorm-room for last night and then all this toilet-time of the day I go through with the “theme” for my day of what toilet-level it will be and getting out of the building and into and back off of the bus and — where do I go for another homelessness-enforced day but to a library and then to changing my plan from going back to the Shaw after yesterday in the Southwest branch, that this seemed too dangerous so I got off the bus at the first stop of the 3 choices and walked to this Northeast branch library. The “Merchant of Venice” types must have decided to also use me for that “1984” big brother thing of changing all the books and newspaper material, censoring and changing the content by silently watching me read and seeing what I find that’s evidence against the system and getting it gotten rid of or changed to seem normal, been going on all these years is becoming apparent, too.

5 August, I’d had it going real good yesterday, figuring out how to put the MENU items into an organized order and came back today to keep going and got sidetracked and it’s back somehow to how it had been. I came in today and it was semi-organized and I fiddled a little and it’s back to exactly how it had been plus there’s another “Uncategorized,” which is a copy of the whole blogsite that I’d just seen a way to delete but was afraid to do that too hastily, and now this little horror-boy that maybe comes, honestly, bio-from that George Stephanopolous, is skulking around here, at this southeast branch library and it’s got this hideous new computer set up they’re lately terrorizing me with that’s being added to the branches one by one and demolishes my time and nerves and I don’t feel like asking a question I’ll be learning somehow or another shortly just by doing this and seeing what happens, but it says I’ve got half an hour left and then when it gets close they start doing this bizarre alarm-flashing new trick and saying, but you can have another ten minutes and that goes on and on and finally it says no more time and you, I, go up to sign up for the second hour-session and you’ve already used it in “agreeing to” the extra alarm-warned ten minutes’ over and over scam.

9 August, usual really bad day and now I’m trying to figure out this “Categories” business and almost lost the whole menu of the blogposts I’d made yesterday, but there are 2 copies of it, at the footer, first the list in the black footer section and then this whole extra section of this color background with the list but not in list shape, just one after the other or some such. I have so much to do and the “s***” sits on my head during any chance I get to do this and I can’t see except for trying to plunge straight ahead, even with the old library book-reading it was the same thing, just forge straight forward and can’t take a break to re-organize whatever I’m thinking about, these parasites all over my brain. It’s really bad at the inferno-shelter with that horror-thing in the same “dorm” room now.

11 august, they’re like hospital lesions all over me, this “invisible” torture from the underground-things world. The swine do this every friday for their hoochy-coochy lure weekends. they destroy to make sure i have a feces day for myself by informing all their shit-world about my august 13th day to myself and how the shit-demons all around me should behave, they do the same with the december-january holiday-set, this jew, this feces-jew directing this garbage. forcing me to type more of this about itself too now as an example, ooh yeah, ooh yeah, more about the jew more about the garbage more about the pain, etc, drivvel. s***-drivel about themselves, all over my every moment, because it’s their friday off of me, living off of my anything i’ve got and distributing it to their created s***-drivel world every day for decades now. I hardly know how to get this work done every day and i’m terrorized by that it might rain with me stuck out an hour+ walk from any cover and i’m carrying too many papers because i can’t get anything much done because of this s***-party the torture always makes out of my days, and then it’s also getting onto the Labor Day weather-change and I’m getting hysterical that I’ll be trapped in this s***-town, shudder-shudder, horror.// It’s going a teeny less-horrible, clearing out and condensing the above-menu as much as i can and at least i got some message sent out today so i can have that little “hope” of making some contact. There’s a report of thunderstorms for sometime coming up and that it might be onto me while’m walking with nowhere to stand under and wait from here to the Metro station near that shelter, where I at best go through this process-pattern overnight again, every day only living for the little time of doing this like it’s a dollhouse toy that might get somewhere sometime, etc. They’ve been running an alarm noise here for about an hour and a half nearly, it just quitting now — now it’s back, like everything’s a toy for driving me crazy world i walk around in, the alarm-noise to make me feel guilty that the system has been using all my time this past year that I come to this Rosedale branch sometimes as being a holocaust-time in this area for themselves off of my “innocent” sitting here, so now the alarm on top of that. As usual the Jew is making me nuts that I have a day of privacy coming up and the alarm is serving to make me feel that this shouldn’t be the place I bring myself to that day, — then where? one of the real big petroleum-haul spots they’ve got as my only choices….

8/15/17, Tuesday, the animals attacked, they always sneak-attack relentlessly. It’s always as though I’m a sitcom and it isn’t anything except trivial, this c*** at the Southeast library branch, an absolute nothing but to me personally it’s horror-horror and the swine wallow in that I can’t prove it and I’m all alone and they rack-up their death-takes off of behind my back every day like this, absolutely nothing, that I went to print 2 pages and the watchers knew that and were waiting at the printer with some “innocent-seeming” routine with some total stranger sent to be the missile or grenade sent out at me, some guy told to do it as though it’s a joke, thousands of them on the every single day basis all these years, an unknowing person doing some teeny-seeming assignment from the underground and it seems like it’s nothing, but the accumulation of about a mission “tricks” like that over the 25 years of this c*** and me stuck knowing that this is the real future eternity these retarded people are “taking out” like a war really against life, the Autists’ despising everything because they’d gotten that Autism. So that I got panicky when after I’d quit and gone back to this seat it stays on my mind all the time syndrome that I always have a next thing I have to accomplish and this was to do that little thing and it quieted down over there and I went back and that unknowing stranger just was remote-controlled or whatever to get too close to me and my nerves know from experience that he’s a missile sent to get me upset and I tried to ask him to back off and he played stupid and then did the standard underworld “jump off like crazy” that almost all of the missiled-types do to me, yell like I’m a piece of shit in place of just excusing themselves and backing off away from me and the pdf I’m trying to do finished and I grabbed my whatevers and got away but the damage was done with that’s then being the underworld’s goal of an excuse to make a kill-excuse scene off of me.
8/21, Monday, these animals are destroying me every day. Today it was this mess at the CVS that would take me at least half an hour to bother describing and it’s all just garbage but this is how the Revelation is getting done, and then I turn this on and it wssn’t me that put those old “selfie” photos of me, like 2 or 4 copies of the same one some creep put there to get me upset as soon as I went to sign on, after that horrendous cvs scene-trick and then the horrific traffic noises all the way here and the trick-tricks of the usual sorts.

8/30, these animals are playing all s***-games terrorizing me first with the LURE and now with face-bomb on that fraud-parent tricks all around me plus just a little c*** to get me upset while they’re setting up that latter for doing the former, at the se library branch.


26 August, 2017, Saturday, I can’t find a major little big piece to all this “mix-up,” that I think shortly after my bag/purse had been stolen there was another traumatic-type scene involving some landscaping horror-scene that was too traumatic/controversial to be able to write down about at the time but I’d seen that I had jotted a little note about it, I think in the Log, but the summer and all the time for me is just a horror and now I still can’t find that note again, that it was right somewhere in that time period. They’d torn up all the landscaping around that day-shelter in a vicious-machine type of way with mainly an Autist-type “character” doing the work who later I realized “symbolized” being like a WordPress person, and now I can’t locate the date that that had happened on or even when the bag was taken and dumped into the nearby garbage can, but this is how the “Armageddon-making Show/Program” always goes, just tearing me up so that I’m lucky I can even get to libraries, where I guess that that point is that they’re steadily de-intelligencizing (sic) so that the Autists can replace to Earthling “normal people.”

26 July, I only realized this error yesterday and it’s growing worse till I can catch up with all that I can, that my situation is virtually indescribable and then it seems there was a super-sabotage and it’s ongoinjg, that the “jokes” started then are going to be continuing for, against, me alone out here with the real-time end of biology, created intelligence, everything. I don’t know all the pieces yet but it started when my “purse” got robbed and I’ll have to find what date it was in relation to when I’d read about the “first ever” WordCamp DC. I think I’d seen the notice on that and shortly after that my plastic bag of belongings and jacket were “joke-trick” grabbed and dumped in a nearby garbage bin and I recouped most of it but some things got away and I was just alone in a tizzy and when I got caught up I guess I’d recalled the WordCamp’s dates wrong and thought it was this week and in recollecting what had gone on here July 14-16 I’m becoming increasingly horrified as I see that set-up that I was and am in.

— (27 July, I found the WordCamp information and I guess it was Andrew Nacin that offhand had seemed to be of this “type” of people and now he doesn’t look much or anything like Mr. Maria just below here. Let me see if I can find a copy of the painting-set by Dirk Bouts, The Justice of Emperor Otto, to express some of my fears-range. Never mind, it’s easy to look up if anyone wanted to look into this horror-situation I’m by myself with all living all off of me for a long time now, as the “feelgood” LSD/serotonin comes from human brains primarily, and to get that it’s like the everyday thing with these ill-system-people. I’m used as a LURE and then as excuse for doing that to people, excuse if I’ve jumped to any conclusions from nervousness at being with nobody to speak with about anything, etc.)

A Narcotics Agent, Victor Mariai

From David Valentine’s “The Strength of the Wokf,” 2004, about events around the time of that 1962 “French Connection” bust.

Kitty Genovese from the March 1964 homicide-scandal in Queens, NY

It had seemed to me that the leader of the WordCamp offhand looked like this agent Mr. Maria, on who I couldn’t find anymore information, but he does seem to be one of the stereotypes that I’m alone with here trying to explain about, and I’d quickly looked at the rest of the event-announcement and thought I would be able to get back and try to prepare something for the leader to read about what this blogsite is about, about that, for one thing, the “narcotics” problem is one of the things that is bringing us to at least eventual real total extinction, it isn’t a gimmick, this is all about all real life. And I just thought the Camp was this week and when I think back over what was going on by me the 14-16th and then on right till now and the future I feel I was super-sabotaged so that I’d be more-ignored than I even ghost-prisoner have been all these years. I’ll have to try to find out that leader’s name and find my notes on when that stolen bag was, because it just became terrible and I tried to prepare for not being anywhere around when WordPress got here and instead it was just the opposite, and I’m still sitting in that same predicament, this branch-library that’s just straight up the street from the old Carnegie Library only there’s the new Convention Center and the supermarket and new housing between there and here, and then above here, north and kitty-across the street, seems to be a place where these “fraud-parent” types have been being festered, and is connected to the Pearl Bailey business, and in looking into that above north of there you get to the big Howard Hospital and University and over that is this old baseball stadium I’d been trying to locate and finally found that it was located up that way and that’s what became this RFK Stadium out where I’m in that “Inferno-shelter” nightshelter and that’s been going like business is swell. This “Armageddon Program” off of me is only like I try to describe in one of the pages as being s***-throwup, honestly, that that’s all it ever is, just that quality. Yesterday there was a scene replayed that had been done on the morning of the 14th. Yesterday I’d typed 15th about it in this Log-file here but I have to coordinate all these little details yet, only in effort to explain-try to get some credibility back, that everything that went on say all month now was designed as sabotage.

This morning I tried to send an email I’d started on the 17th and it got zoomed back by the webmail because the address got messed up in some “finger-trick” that the “Bell-‘magic'” knows how to do to me. I hope WordPress won’t consider me written-off as being a — interruption while I try to explain that I’m even afraid to use the word “legitimate” because the first time I’d used it in one of these begging letters the next day I’d seen an amputated girl and so I’m always afraid of how that word is translated and stay away from it and a bunch of other words simply because I haven’t anyone to discuss things with. I got set up to look discreditable during the time the WordCamp was just down the street from here and even worse is that this “Armageddon Program” is like some “parade” encouraging people to follow, and to follow this “program” out to where the nightshelter is is a horrifying thing. This Armageddon is about de-intelligencing everyone so that developmentally disabled Autists can be the new normal people, have the planet to themselves without the others around anymore and it’s an unworkable idiot’s idea-concept and will only result in the loss of everything eventually at best, and sooner and more sadistically if they do another “world” war, which I haven’t any idea what might be in the minds of other people to be perpetrating but everything around me is only the quality of the s***-throwup as how the system’s strategy is, to do that till the planet’s not got others on it. I’ll try to get the next illustration to describe about that bag’s been taken for starting throwing all of me into the trash but I can’t get further without the illustration. Kitty Genovese’s picture is there because it seems she and Agent Maria look like brother and sister maybe, were/are big stereotypes. She’d been allegedly sadistically murdered while her neighborhood ignored her on and on screams and screams, but in retrospect I’m thinking that the entire thing might have been one of the system’s set up hoaxes, that Lenny Bruce was possibly involved in, and that there was a new girlfriend of the newspaper editor A,M. Rosenthal who’d made the big “Apathy” story out of the homicide who looked about the same as Ms. Genovese, her name being Kathryn Balfour. Back then the system-people thought they’d soon be ruling the Earthlings from Mars, running around living on borrowed money that then they couldn’t pay back when it turned out that there isn’t even anything valuable on the moon, the whole space race all for nothing actually, so then they’re all just scared of getting caught for turning so many millions and millions of people to the rocket fuel, and we went into the Watergate and “The Godfather” age, lots of film-violence, threats. I have to try to do productive things. — 30 —

The only peculiar thing about

before my bag and jacket were stolen, and then emptied and dumped into the corner trash-barrel at nearby 14th and N Streets, NW, is that a smiling little guy that looked a little like this model-example here had walked by twice, sort of smiling at like he knew me or some such, was a “show” viewer “up from the underground” where I figure everyone mostly really is, is what I figure about people who smile at me as they otherwise silent-world walk by me, and otherwise everything was ordinary. I didn’t yet ascertain the date of that incident but it had a big effect on what I went through for about a week of “whirlwind” created by the incident. I’ll go check the Log and see if I can find where I’d mentioned that something too controversial to mention had occurred.

— It looks like it was Wednesday, June 29. Now when did I learn about the WordCamp’s coming? I don’t think I’d even be able to find that mentioned, it was just something I knew and I wrote that blurb at the footer about the next day, after giving it a little thought. But June 29th was a long time before July 14. And then it looks like this library was closed clear through till that Monday, the 17th, for some unspecified maintenance emergency. To recollection they’d just re-opened on Monday like nothing’d happened. It was real creepy, the telephone answering machine in the voice I think of a longtime “character” that I’m always LURE-afraid of and the message was just like, we’re closed, go to some other library, click.

Every time I go to sign in now I’m getting harassed by a new trick: The computer wouldn’t sign me in unless I clicked-on that it’s okay to add some “plug-in” onto the program so I’d okayed that one time and when I left here there was an invisible-molestation torture “plugged-in” to my privates, so that of course now I don’t want to okay the plug-in, which sign hadn’t come up and demanded to be used before but every time I go to use this blogsite now I’m getting that harassment, which seems related to the announcement about the WordCamp, now in the high Season on Tourists here, Tourist Season, Season on Tourists, it drives me out of my mind to be used as a LURE-gimmick for that. It’s sub-human, humans don’t behave like that, but these underworld Autist-people have that prehistoric-descended brain damage and think nothing of other people, of things outside of their own selves.

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I’m still working on trying to organize re-creating what that month was like. That handwriting is typical for all these invisible-torture years. I keep notes mostly because I never know when the system might pull something bizarre, like having cops pull over and question me or what and whatever just happened isn’t recollectable without notes on the process of how the current mess had started, so I keep these just in case as the days go along for that reason mostly, just a quick-referral, oh yeah, well she said he said she did and then etc., etc., is what led up to this, invisible-circus way the book of Revelation’s threat-promises have been being carried out all these years. There was a particular incident I’d seen a jotted note on somewhere and I’m trying to come across it for adding into here before I can get further with it right now, if anything, but still, July was a real horror for me and I think I’m more a less like a microcosm for what the planet goes through, the many years of this, decades now.

WordCamp mix-up