Toward the very end there’s a mention of going to Ms. Mall’s on Saturday morning and returning Sunday evening and expecting to find that she has failed, illeg., really, but in the next letter there isn’t any mention then of the trip, just alot of other odds and ends. I’m not sure if it’s one of the daughters that is Miss Mall there because there wasn’t a previous mention. — Twice she mentioned the food place, restaurant called Longchamps so I looked up that and it seems it was a chain run by the crime-lord Arnold Rothstein’s (1882-1928) brother-in-law, and they left the business a long time ago but I’ll have to look up more about this in general and in particular because it seems there must be some sort of a connection between the bigwig Rothstein and the Bronx’s Dutch Schulz, that I’ve yet to be able to pin down. Maybe they’re spawn-brothers or similar bio-relation. But I think that Schultz was really a coded way of referring to Shell oil’s being in the Bronx, is how I’d wound up in this situation about the TPE for ever and ever if this isn’t caught onto and put a modern adult squash to this old secret stuff and its covers ups.
19 Oct., Sat., — even worse today.
15 Oct., I’ll re-install this chatbox because I’ve only got a little while and alot of little different search-engine types of things to try to do. Otherwise everything is either lousy or terrible.
10/17, Maybe I’d be able to keep a running list here of the subjects I’m trying to work on:
Louie and the candy man, = that Longfellow Avenue’s old days to these days business
Blackbeard, Edward Teach
770 eastern parkway labor day brooklyn carvinal W. Indian-American carnival day
ck lance on the s.m., dawn, mark; add ted in the army
ck bayazet II, spelling
find tt brazil painting of maximillian of baden?
peace pavillion the hague from carnegie
marathon to sapporo
add abt spirits list
tt the system does everything wrong from the bottom on up
— I’m so bad off I didn’t even bother to bring the rest of my notes, figure I won’t have enough time to get to too much anyway. And there was something about yesterday that I’m like supposed to drop all these other subjects in order to fit in jotting-out about that about “them,” the invisible and unprovable torturers and I cannot recall whatever this standard distraction was yet.
pirates of the Caribbean/ck penzance
milt machlin, d. around 2007
mia farrow (1945, L.A.)
eliz. l. ring difficulty
ck on tt hi in place of the boo
I don’t know if this will really work but I’m going to try putting widgets like a timeline-chronology for the main points in this “Armageddon” set up overall and also off of me specifically, mixed together.
I found a mailing address and will try to set this up in the sidebar here for it, and the warnings that would go before it, since this criminal fraud-family is already all over my trying to make this arrangement and its with a government group. — I’m moving this unresearched-yet boring-seeming old painting’s little copy to this spot because it’s connected to what I’d be trying to describe about my difficulties with mail receipt because of all this Armageddon and the fraud-family science fiction-horror situation all over me. Also I think my years of ghost-prisonership non-receipt of responses to my requests for assistance with all this largely comes from some “communications curse” back around 1993, from that disk I’d sent the Clinton Administration that I haven’t had a chance to describe much about that here yet. I’d written an “Armageddon is Now” warning-disk based on some trick that had been played on me but the millennium was still just right in front of us, that the trick was a cover-up for that I’d notice and watch out for the Revelation “profit-sees.” Etc.
Aug. 5 2019; I’m not sure how I’m going to (be able to) proceed today. It’s like the system-goons think this is Infinite Jest II, to all be living off of me. I have to check, “God help” us/me, whatever, about Rod Serling’s ejaculations’ being used for making some of the major characters of the twentieth century’s farce that we’re “postmodernly” in now and might likely never be able to get out of, and also of the T.H. Huxley family, his son Leonard’s being a stereotype like Nicholas II of Russia and then maybe they made Leonard’s son Aldous from the new growth hormones onto T.H.’s ejaculations, maybe onto a sister’s ova, sort of a how we got here. Plus I might have to try a letter to the governor in Tallahasee because I have to get out of this particular LURE-trap I’m stranded alone in now because I’m the only one trying to find assistance for getting Earth and human race and biology out of necessitated extinction.