of her always. The bible says that only those that have a heart of a child will enter the heavenly kingdom, so when alone with her and reverting to a young child again, just shows how much " child " is in this 28 year old man. IM quite pleased actually. Yes " mother " I will take the medicine( something in which I have not done yet), and quite being so stubborn. Walking around many boulevards tends to sore the feet you know. Where are you? Are you still out there, or have you been taken as well, perhaps we have already crossed paths, not to our notice. The road twists and turns, where it goes we never " really " know, although we try to fool ourselves with our " future" plans, even the crow flies crocked sometimes. I feel overly aloof now, a good indication is floating back down to earth, tranquility once again resting upon me, it saying softly " once again your poison is out, it is resting in time on the page of your notebook, rest now! Journey through a certain realm always requires special attention, and planning, for it is carefully guarded by viewers, many of them, constantly watching for flies on the wall. These ventures happening from the comfort of my own room, a warfare that exist out of physical view, sneaking up to the prismatic energy chambers, cloaking myself with ignorance; so as not to be detected, watching constantly for the flash of the viewer. Once in the energy field; it meshing, fluctuating all around the fibers of time, I thought I had found the keys, the answers, but only left without a complete picture of what was even yet to be, these journeys to this place are few, for the presence could tear one into. The wavy diffraction of light, as star is looked at through our atmosphere, hiding thoughts that one does not want to fear, solitude resides then " if " forever, only to be left with a reverting to beginning of all accomplishments. Oh the sutle velvet waves, slowly vibrating through my frequency perception, calming, attributes of gifts that many do not find from the hand of time. What color is your day? And why? Change is only as far away as we let it be, paths become worn, ruts are formed in which we have to sometimes crawl out of, broken, worn over, steady hands wither into nervous limbs, for what? Mom, I was not finished telling you something. I hate this feeling of not " really " knowing. I miss the streets of Austin during the wintertime, clammy cold wetness draped on the sidewalks, puddles vibrate from the rhythm's of downtown, the automated night percussion of the city wears on, fluctuating frequencies from the heat and air systems snoring away. As I sit perched on the restricted partition on the 18 story garage, observing the north 6th and congress streets. The rain comes in waves, generated by the condensing pressure from the buildings. As I put my eye to the scope I remembered the mission at hand, now was no time for transcendental memory. My target was STARTecho138, this is all I know, as well as a picture and characteristics. I did not know what he had done, didn't do, or do improperly. The way in which I was hired was anonymous, I only suspect the " powers that are "; wherever they are at, were providing me with work. The first time that I took a offer from them was my first mistake, for they control everything(despite what the ignorant want to think), and the risk of descent was impossible since there would be nowhere to get away to. And so here I lay, with a bead on a stranger, I was to shoot the MI1001 self extractor, which is a dart device which attaches payload to the subject, then spring recoils a long distance away from the target, hence being able to locate its trajectory and coordinates with pre-programmed tracking interfaces enclosed in my wristwatch. Then after shooting I retrace my steps and pick up the device. What is the payload? A genectically encoded binary message exchange to the heart, that is remotely controlled by satellite transmission. It is a " black op" device invented during the cold war, and thus has been perfected by the black agencies of today. Bead set. I have to wait for the exact angle, so that the reverting projection of the projectile will land in the predetermined location, all of this computated several months beforehand by technitions at IS1, using satellite imagery of differing angles, and autocad simulations of trajectory from specified triangulated targets. Breath in slowly.........breath out.....fire, hit, watch. Target immediately reacts, but before his hands reach up to the target mark on his neck, the projectile is away and off him at 100,000 times a second sequence phase, there is confusion, his servants ask if he is ok, they are looking at the mark; test show it makes a mark like a mosquito bite, they brush it off and move inside there place of meeting. I lay quietly in the shadows, thinking again of those thoughts of yesterday, and how the land used to appease my being, the daffodil's in spring smelling so pure, as well as the air. Is this a falsity, or does reality still pervade me? Five minute timer softly sounds, I get up and move towards the flight of stairs, I exit ground level, pouring myself into the street, meeting a few stares here and there. The vibrations from my watch lead me; vibrations so as not to give away the secret on my arm, for we are careful like that. I already know where it is anyway, for we pre-programmed every sequence of the mission, just like we always do. Im at the location, casually reach down to tie my shoe and pick up the small device, as I lean up briskly, I lay it down softly in my jacket pocket. I impatiently hail a cap, wait, get in, and tell him of my north destination, wanting just to be home. 7.45 miles and $20.00 later I leave his working box, and Im in front of what I consider the long walk. I enter my apartment gate and start towards mine, the whole time walking in front of all the apartments that face the road. I can feel all these people staring at me through closed blinds, as if knowing the secret life I live alone. I turn the lock with my key, look left and right, and then enter. My surroundings I melt into, music on, fresh glass of water, drop my backpack, and take off my shoes. My computer greets me with a transmit receive warning, I go to debrief, and give them uplink verification. From here the device will be under there command control via sat uplink, and at any given time they can activate the device causing the active genetic material to enter the targets bloodstream, the encoding causing the heart to stop. Messy job is it not? I agree. I have been working on plans some time now, one of these plans is to write my reality to fiction. After thinking this sitting at my computer, I again throw it of as being impossible, escaping there presence in the ever present world of there's that is, and at that writing about it through fiction to the whole world, oh well, I think as I debrief. Turning of the " box " from " 1984 " I find my bed, where all is ok, and dreams don't come at night. Again as I lay, the memories are so real, I do not know if they are real, or supplanted, by them, or maybe there is a twin of me out there somewhere, living a peaceful life in the open spaces of time, or was it a passed life I think as I roll over to see a different night view of my room. I think from out of the dark, and then this thought dissipates again to where it came from.I wake, was I asleep, it seems I just went to sleep, or does it just always feel that way now? My bones hurt, like when sleeping I was really on a mission, remotely controlled as if they did not want me to even be privy to the mission at all, or maybe that is my guilty conscience begging to be heard, I don't care any longer. I stand up, stretching life into my tiredness, my eyes heavy with tired sleep. I light a cigarette only to feel my gums becoming mushy, I drink from the glass of last nights water, only to find it stale and rank, kinda like the walls, being a whore house for drifters, apartments always make me feel this way. Coffee starts, and I forget the time change, you would think after all my caculations and precision, something simple like the equinoxe's would be easily remembered and noted. Ok the hell with it anyhow, as I let the innocent coffee ground scent enter me, I look at the monitor, it looks at me. I have something to say, but remember my guard always. Phone rings; operator should not be calling this early, I answer, it is my mom being worried about me, telling me my dad wants me to contact him sometime, " he loves you ", I hang up the phone , and go to lay down again, letting the warm cover enrap me away from reality. My sister and her husband are coming over today, oh the life of normality. The Linux kernel reconfiguration lasted longer than expected, so until I finish it I will not have the means to gain access to the secure gateway using an SS1 VPN connection to receive information from Server B.1.5, this is ok though, at least I will have technical difficulties to blame, and stay home for awhile, most of the time I am in other places in the world, this is the first target in the U.S. in the last 3 years. Funny how it was Austin, like they might know of my decent, and made there point of me not going anywhere, and that there on to me, choosing someone here as a target, maybe this person was just some local bigwig and will never activate the payload, I will remember to watch the news, for usually I don't, big deal, I already know what I've done, no need to let it consume me, these people are bad anyway, if they need to be executed by the powers that are. My plans fade further as I think the worst.
It is December 25th 2003-5:14pm, three days after my objective, there has been a death of a local business/political man in Austin, he died in his sleep of a heartattack, hmmm, sounds like they took care of a small fish problem, but mainly they reminded me of my slavehood to them, I wonder how far into the file they had to got to find him, problally a problem as well, for he did have a wife and two children, hmmm. Today is usually not a day to venture out for me, but cannot stand my noisy box anymore, I think Im going to go to ' half-price books' to drink coffee and people watch, and wait for the unfamiliar chess opponet to come my way. There are cameras everywhere now here, constantly watching my every move, this is not an opinion, but know fact, they always watch, track, observe there slaves, constantly ready to take them back for ' reprogramming'. No matter what countersurvallence methods are used they can still view, listen, and know. Laser microphones, using electricity through light as a receiver, then there are the ' old age ' techniques like wire tapping, room taping, and now ' new age ' methods like remote viewing is well known, and what is behind there veil is very disturbing, it is not a friendly little ole man, who wants to get Dorothy home. If they wish to be, they can be everywhere, nowhere on this planet is safe from them, and there tentacles are reaching out into space as well. Ha, who do you think will be there? There will be the best out of the collective of mans genetic gene pool, why do you think the G-nome was decoded, so that the best of mans collective could be arranged in sequence in any given pre-configured way, repeated, and grown. Workers, scientist, archeologist, etc, all engineered and programmed for each assignment task. The shuttle has not flown for awhile now, it and the ISS is all a ruse, there is really a geo-stationary complex in orbit on the darkphaze of the moon, being geo-stationary to earth. I might be a slave, but one that is in deep, and have worked on many projects for awhile now, all the while blending seamlessly into the cracks of society as to remain hidden from the public, them not seeing any of the works that I do. Ok the conversations I have with myself ' I think ' as I get out of my car, and walk into the bookstore. Funny how the drive was not noticed, I wonder if others notice my self-obsorbedness of thought, or am I just being paranoid? Look at all the books, so many, I could spend many months here, alone, just me and the wonderful stories, yeah like in the " Never Ending Story ", where he hides himself to read long into the next few days. Im looking for something real, that I can digest, not contright, but brutally ugly, as fact, out there, but entirely feasible. I wonder back to the thoughts of a possible twin, maybe I would find his life in a story, a story of a different type, different era and time, maybe he is who led me here today, hoping to enlighten me before its too late, of the knowledge of away out for me, my secret way out that I have not learned or thought of, he will write on small pages coded in metaphor's of this knowledge, following me around making sure I get the hint. " Brother where art though", I speak to myself underbreath, but I am not in the mood Hamlet, thinking , not realizing the significance of these thoughts until arriving at the classical poetry section, then chuckling to myself over my new found humor. The first book gleaming at me is " Brother Speaks" , by Mark Zethermire, the first thirty pages spoke of dreams of a man had of his yet unborn brother telling him wisdom in simolee form, and then disappearing. Enough I say, close the book and walk out, Im hungry anyway, and I don't want to go down this road of hypothinizing mystery never to find an answer, for I have done that with so many other subjects, and one more is to much, but this I feel is of greater importance, but will think about it some more after I eat some food...................
I dont like being out in the public anymore, as if there is an invisible plague drifting around in the air, nor did I go to eat after leaving the bookstore, my mood being that of disgust and amusing discontent; funny how discontent can be amusing, after finding no pleasure in either of the two activities. It is now December 27th 2003-6:05, and again my observance of what is deemed ' realility ' eludes me, for Christmas has passed, and I have been enjoying the inner walls of my dwelling, noticing nothing unless I want too. It has been awhile since I have noticed the ' holidays ', and even remembering my birthday is a dim fading light in the mind, for I dont need to be reminded of my aging, nor my limited time on the flake of dust, and the whole idea is pointless, just societies relentless hold on the pocket books of greed, clucthing all that it can on the struggling many that reside upon the earth, taking there power; which they have created, in the form of money, and then destroying them further with pointless opressions that fill the valley whole. These oppressions arent few, and they range from mild to harsh: taxes, unfair allocation of child support, penalties of trivial law; like not wearing your seat belt, oh, and did I say taxes. I could go on, but Im not in the mood to regurgitate what should be plainly understood. I sit though mellow, in a chair of age, comfy, looking out my drawn curtains through the small openings of lighted pathways. I sip from a cup of cold filtered water, feeling it soak my inner tissue as if to breath life again into me. The 20 year old copy of " Leaves Of Grass "-(Whitman) sits in my lap, oh the impeccable diction of this man, on the coffee table sits an 1918 Webster dictionary, for I need it often. I try not to think of Austin, and hide within my time capsule, trying to not be reminded of my precarious situation, now is not the time for that, I need to clear myself, to see within, to see the time domain as an whole, letting each particle of it come together and mesh, fitting in the place of the mind with wholeness. Again my cigarette falls to the ground, and I have become very quick as to not let it burn into the carpet. I miss going out in the fake world, the world of sugar coating, the ignorance being so blissful, existing through life never aware of what is in the shadows, the ' real ' shadows, the ones where the people with real power exist, playing there game of chess upon the whole of humanity, viewing it as really only a game. The gloss of misperceive invading my being again, the unknowing of the reality that truly exists'. I get up and move over to the stove, where there is an attempt taking place at cooking some steaks, lobster, rice, and chicken. I have not reason to cook like this but one, that is I want to. I want to treat myself to something nice before I make my move, they expect me to, so I will, I am not afraid anymore, I do not want to be the puppet, running around doing the masters ' dirty work '. And for what, patriotism, honor, defending the country? If I where really be defending the country, I would start with taking out the ' puppets ' in office, and then reveal the men in the shadows. And I am not the only one on the inside that feels this way, and there are many on the outside whose intuition sees what is really going on. The outside is mostly comprised of younger ones, for the older ones are tired, and many have been fooled all there live, and are set in there ways. I still here older ones talk about the first and second world wars, as if it was something of honor for the United States to fight in, the whole time knowing that all along it was a power grab on both sides, both sides being from the same tree. What really amazes me is that the U.S. allowed Pearl Harbor to happen so that that they could enter the war, all along it was the elite social club of the secret unseen government playing chess on the board of life. And now after the last 25 years it is not hidden anymore to the public; especially since the year 2000, but the people just can not bring themselves to see the truth. Do I need to mention 911, if only you knew what I know, your blood would boil at the fact of the realization of your deception,' that the powers that are have veiled your mind with. ' But that is ok, anyone knowing anything, will not change even the smallest plan of there's. There have been many great minds of think tanks that hypothesize differing scenario's for them, I know I have been there, sitting in what is called viewing booths, viewing the space infraction zones. Just the fact of all not knowing this term verifies my words. What is even more depressing is that on TV there are certain shows that they have had written, revealing there plots and circumstances, but many never think twice about it for it is labeled ' fiction ', if only you knew how they laugh about this, saying " look how they are fooled, we give them the puzzle, but they are too stupid to see the realility ". Oh, this is the worst part, all these ' intelligent ' people walking around having no idea of what realm they exist in, and the foil that has overtook them. I love music, it being one of the only things in life that soothes my soul. I walk back over to my chair, after being satisfied that I have not ruined the food. I really am I good cook, but I need to constantly hover of the food being cooked in order for it to cook well; as most good chiefs, but I get easily distracted, and this tends to complicate things. For instance when I first moved to this apartment, I had some incense that had become wet from the rain. I took them and put them in the oven to heat them a bit, but forgot about them. I was on the balcony, and after smoke started pouring out of the open door, I finally noticed, and hurried to the oven to take them out. I had to open the front door as well to vent the place, and it was quite interesting. There was a Chinese couple coming up the stairs as I was outside, just looking at me with an expressionless face, wondering what this crazy man was doing burning such a big stick of insence, if only they knew, that might have laughed. That is funny though, how we miss the humor in things because of presuming others, overlooking the humor in our haste to be correct in these assumptions. But that was about a year ago, and humor in general has not greeted me since then in a large way, most of my days are filled with gloom, for I still have not found an acceptable solution, and there are many more problems and stressful circumstances being added every day.
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