— I have to mention that Greenpoint, Brooklyn is a “clue” that something is amiss with all this, as Greenpoint was the place I’d gone to when I became homeless in (Feb.) 1992, me calling the time period, “To Brooklyn with Spirit” but everything went-Armageddon there, to this point, where today, (7/25/19, Thursday,) I’m just falling into this short story that is about the prehistoric-descended Autism I’m saying is taking us to total extinction, so I have to finish reading the story now but that will take at least the rest of today if not into tomorrow because it’s a difficult story, etc. So I’m starting this file as some sort of an interim way to communicate some of the more simple aspects of all this rather than the regular file I’ve been using, the one to Ms. Remus, who’s supposed to be connected with “milint” and I’d written to about 2 weeks ago, trying like “s.o.s.” to get anyone’s attention because, same as your “evil and greedy king” that sends everyone out to steal for him, I’m held like “ghost-prisoner” by him/them and they’re symbolized as “Mr. Film,” a groundskeeper at Philips Exeter in this story, that I have to get back to now, slipping notes down below if I come across any in the course of the day, this one on Franz Boas being because he’d happened to have connection with Dr. Rene Dubos and the ghost-writer of this short story, Planet Trillaphon, reminds me maybe of Dubos, who maybe is like Woodrow Wilson and they’d become a type of male who’d been “captured” by the Mr. Film or the actual narrator of this Planet Trillaphon that I’ll go finish typing now, because I don’t have the concentration to be able to read such “boy-talk” that by itself I wouldn’t read except that this does seem to be the same Autism that I’m saying is bringing us to TOTAL PLANET EXTINCTION so that I’m real enthused about all this except that anything I feel the invisible-torture sucks from me, any positive feelings or thoughts or two centses I might have, anything, so the torture is sucking invisibly more hard than usual today, and I have to find some contact with a human so that’s another reason for trying to start this file, and I don’t know if you’re aware of it but I’m in Houston where it would be simple for anyone you know here to meet me at any of the public libraries here, that I could get some contact with a human. I’m 64 years old soon and these “Mr. Film’s” parasites are always killing me and I don’t have an emergency-contact or anyone to help me get back out of a hospital if these “Armageddon” monsters ambush me harder than I can withstand, so your being from this place makes a contact seem simple, is why I’m opening this file for trying to communicate with you. I’ve never had any Comment to this blog that was a normal person speaking so I don’t even know what people might see when they call up UniverseRescue Etc., if it’s the same thing I’m typing. From all I’ve seen it’s become clear to me that these computers are more primarily for hunting to disappear normal people than for any other purpose, so that the “Mr. Film” -type can have the planet to please theirselves alone, using the Autist-boys as mass-reproduced armies for their Armageddon, and then I’ve been being used for that all my life, six decades of this abuse, etc.
— it’s about spirits in the sky too, that those are gone, alot of guilt they’re covering over by all this force, the evil and greedy sadistic king, etc.
— 3 August, I haven’t heard from anyone, am just in a vacuum by myself and becoming frantic. The similarities between my situation and the little book and “perfectness” that someone like Amy would come to the (real) universe’s rescue, etc., is too much, that it feels like it might even be a set-up for me to walk into by keep sending her materials when there’s, for whatever reason, not any way she’s going to assist me. I’ve got the same situation with my fraud-sibling going on right now also, not sending that photo of me as a little kid being set up for all this, that whatever is doing this torture to me had arranged for this little “Amy” book and then that the fraud-sibling is just not replying to my repeated-now requests for a copy of that little photo of myself, and in these 4 months of waiting so I can do more on that “Gladys Rodriguez” 1962 time period me and the blog are getting all messed up, where I was trying to keep it simple and go chronologically but now this “Jomon/’magician'” or seer or what they think they are, etc., is just making everything ugly by for whatever reason arranging for the fraud-sibling to just not reply anymore, after it had seemed like I’d be getting a copy of that any time back a couple of months now, and I haven’t been able to keep up with the Permissions-requests for the more materials that are backed-up now while waiting so I could get started with how this thing had started onto me when I was only 4 years old. Etc.
19 August, I’ve been carrying these notes every day and have to quick-type them:
bright sky press, 2365 rice blcd, suite= illegible now, 202 or first floor, houston tx 77005
leaf number 7= teapot, #8 = at the old-fashioned window
bk of #7, facing the window= do you remember the old fables about the evil king who stole the night sky, it is here! he hid it inside the belly? of this teapot! what do we do asked the ltl girl.