Anyone who follows this blog (and I think, perhaps, there are two of you?) knows that my life is a bit… well, let’s be honest: Unhinged. I left my home country, I move a lot, and I write about a lot of weird things that may or may not be true. Well, I’ve been hitting the Chianti tonight…
It’s a lovely 2015 Chianti, bottled during the year that I attempted to return to the U.S. and start a normal life. But the weirdness started again, and by 2016, I was back overseas. I gave up on a normal life that year. Un piccolo assaggio di Toscana!
I have gotten into listening to ASMR videos with headphones on and something firm at the base of my skull to fight my bad posture. I’m tall, and I hated school, so I developed a slouch early in life. I have always had ASMR, although back when I was growing up, I didn’t know it had a name. I just know my skull tingled — or rather, I got very relaxed in a peculiar way — when I saw someone concentrating, or heard certain sounds. One of the really good ones I felt was in my university library, researching a paper I had to write in grad school, and two girls behind me started whispering about some drama in their lives. The whispering voices got me almost hypnotized. I just sat there, my back to them, pretending to read the book in front of me, but all I got was that sensation. “Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response” they call it now. I had felt it all my life, but now, I don’t have it anymore. But I still get tingles when I hear a soft voice whispering in my right ear, so there’s still that.
So I lie in bed, earbuds in, listening to whispers on YouTube, preferably ones that focus on the right ear, with something firm planted below the base of my skull or between my shoulder blades, popping those vertebrae back into place, and as I relax, it triggers random memories.
And here goes the brain scramble again. Whenever I talk about these things, my mind goes into a kind of disconnected state and it is hard to connect things, and I ramble like an idiot. But so what? The internet is full of us rambling idiots, who am I hurting by rambling on my own blog? So the memory that came back to me today was in my Grandparent’s furnished basement in Pennsylvania, in the room that had the boiler system or furnace or whatever it was, next to the stairs. It was a big room, not furnished like the main basement area with the full bar and such. This room was used mostly for storage. We went down there to get the Christmas decorations each year. Smells are very closely associated with memory, and that room had a nice smell. Not of mold, just of… history, I guess. There was a box of old photographs from my Grandparents’ days of being young parents. There was a guy… my mother was very close to him, and her older sister, possibly? I don’t know. My mother talked about this guy a few times at least, as I recall. She called him “Me-Dad,” because I guess he was like a second father to her.
There was one photo of Me-Dad, a tall guy with very large feet sitting in a chair next to an old-timey radio (I am going by memory as I have not seen the photo in years. I just texted my sister, who is the archivist of our family’s artifacts, to ask if she has it so that maybe in the future I can add it to this article). Anyway, this Me-Dad character always gave me the creeps, and I wonder if he haunted my grandparent’s home. I was told he had died in the downstairs guest room, which was used by my parents when we had moved up to my grandparents’ after my father had retired. There are “Programmers” and there are “Handlers,” and this guy had “Handler” written all over him. My sister told me when I was home recently that our aunt had been molested as a child. My aunt was the older sister to my mother, but she was also the fuck-up. She had a breakdown when I was around 12 years old, and I had to go with my family to retrieve her from a Holiday Inn where she was hiding out from life.
My aunt and her hubby had four children. The daughter has since moved away, married into an affluent family, and she doesn’t stay in touch. The eldest son is on the verge himself, and I was never really close to him due to the age difference. He’s in his 60s now, I would guess. The other two sons I was close to. One is now dead, and the other — only two months younger that I — well, we stay in touch through random humorous texts on Google chat, but we don’t email, and he is not on social media. I was home last to see my aunt, who is now close to her end in this form. That was when my sister told me about the abuse our aunt suffered as a child. I never knew about it.
My family is now shattered, really. My sister has gone on to be absorbed into her husband’s family — good people. Unconnected and safe. My sister has two children who, by the reports I get, are brilliant. My nephew reads everything he can get his hands on, and my niece is a whiz at math. I sent her Lisa Randall’s book, Warped Passages, for her birthday. My cousin that is two months younger than I also has two children with his wife, and they seem quite happy. Everyone else is dead.
This surprises me when I think back to the Thanksgiving tables of my youth, at least twenty of us sitting around the feast set out. So many gone. If my generation was supposed to carry any torch, it was never passed. We joke sometimes that we are the 14th Family — the orphans, brawlers, and bastards of the Illuminati.
If you’ve read my previous posts, you may have some idea of why I still sleep with my light on when I get a certain feeling, or my mind goes to certain places. Yet our world keeps moving, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t have the charisma to start a movement, and I don’t have any documentation or evidence to back up my claims. No one does, though, do they? Ever?
So I guess just go and read my post Memories of My Father, and remember to STAY POSITIVE, as I lecture in the previous post, A World of Frequencies. I will keep moving. I don’t know how much time I have left. Christ, I still feel like I could live another 50 years, and yet I am a year from 50 now. I don’t look my age. I don’t act my age. I just run. I think, and I run. What was that line from Game of Thrones? “I drink, and I know things.” That is perhaps more fitting.
Are there other entities? Yes. Of course there are. I have seen them, interacted with them. Are they aliens or demons? Both. All of those fairy stories came from someplace real. And there are good ones, and evil ones, and all of those in between who just like to fuck with us or observe us. And how do you tell the difference? Well, for the directly evil or good, you go by feeling, by frequency. But for those in the middle of the spectrum, you just can’t. Some of them are very funny, and will spend more time with you if they see you get the joke and you find it funny, too. They are good company. I am not sure how reliable they are in defending against the truly evil, but they will be there to make you smile when you feel low — especially at your own expense, so make sure you have the ability to laugh at yourself. But it’s OK as they can take the jokes, too. These fuckers can volley, and I do like them. I like them so much. They are very close to us on this frequency, but I see less and less of them these days, so I fear we are moving away from each other. I would hate to think that it is simply because I am getting older.
Don’t be a paranoid jackass. Just because an entity is not from OUR frequency/world, does not mean they are bad. Same as our current reality — just because someone is from a different country or culture does not make them bad. As above, so below. I hate the U.S. evangelicals. I hate what the GOP now represents. Are the Democrats any better? Hell no. I don’t want to get political, just… just know it is a MUCH bigger picture, OK?
I wonder if my family got cut off because we chose to follow the Christ teachings? Is that why so many of us died within the span of twenty years? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter now, does it? I have to watch what I say, but what I say will be CONSISTENT. I will always despise the evangelical “Christian” right-wingers.
I am rambling. OK, a quick run-off:
1. I sometimes have weird dreams in which I wake up with new information that I can confirm through a Google search.
2. I sometimes wake up with a figure standing by my bed. The good ones stand a distance away, and they appear clear so that I can see facial features. The bad ones look like shadows and are WAY too close.
3. I have woken up with bleeding scratches, and I have woken up with my eyes stuck shut. Conjunctivitis often follows.
4. I have woken up in the middle of the night, and decided to go outside for some air, walked several blocks from my apartment, and turned down a dark street with a light at the end that isn’t there when I try to find it the next day. I often experience spurts of “creativity” after these walks.
5. I have received weird phone calls of random beeping noises, and once of a man who sounded like he had a very bad connection asking me, “Have you seen Jimmy? Jimmy was here, now he’s gone.” He just kept repeating that. I still don’t know who Jimmy was.
6. I sometimes wake up in bed, and my room is lit with a blueish glow, and I feel very relaxed. But the moment I realize “This isn’t normal,” my room goes dark, and my bed shakes, and then nothing. Rather than getting up and pestering on it, I just roll over and go back to sleep, but I remember it the next day.
7. None of the above things have happened in over three years. And rather than relief, I feel depressed by this fact. I don’t know why. I feel like I have lost something.
I don’t miss the large houses and estate festivities. I mean, I do… but I don’t miss the price of having to pretend the underlying costs are not there, and I’m not talking about money. I am talking about abuse. I miss the history, the depth of connection that we felt… but at some point, you have to cut free or become part of it. And it is disgusting. It is horrible. It is Epstein as the tip of a terrible iceberg. And not to jump on the meme theme, but OF COURSE HE DIDN’T KILL HIMSELF. And he was the LEAST of it. I have said before, at the top of the Big 3 – Politics, Religion, Entertainment – the top is the bottom. Bottoms UP. They feed on energy, and sexual energy is the most powerful in these forms, and the younger they are, the more energy they have. And the “top” likes to feed. They are drawn to it.
Well… I guess that’s it. My mind is a blank now, and I want to go watch “The Irishman” on Netflix, so… thanks for reading, and I hope you are well. Stay Positive. Stay positive and kill them. And I don’t mean by physical violence. They just reincarnate. Energy can kill energy, and positive is the way. Read Frequencies.
According to Google, over 600,000 people go missing each year just in the United States. If you change the search to “children”, the number is 800,000. How the hell does THAT make any sense?