A day without books probably would not kill me but why risk it?
You become what you read. I read a thousand books about heroes and crooks and still I could not emulate any of their styles. You become what you listen to. I listen to speeches of the great leaders of men and I still do not believe in them. You become what you watch. I have watched all the pirate movies I could want to watch and yet failed to gain that insight of desire or greed. You become what you think I thought many wonderful thoughts and finally realized something that set me apart. I am not of these worlds of mirror realities. I am not of the worlds of socialized politicized legalistically criminality that makes up the system of things. I am not evil. In my heart I know I failed. I know I sin. Beyond that acknowledgement I dream and live within. For all of this is nothing but an illusion.
I have been noticing the cleansing of books lately. Meaning time bound paperbacks that I had a copy of and donated or have stored somewhere where I cannot get at presently. The most newly was a tale of Faire interesting the tale was removed at the end of a modern era plague that happened in the up state areas. I have been seeing this lately the dumbing down or removal of information that makes thinking or ideas of imagination a bit more umm plausible or enjoyable. I do not know, maybe it is the drugs speaking, but I am scared. First, they change the books and history, then they burn the old books, soon after they start burning people. Time to start thinking escape plans. The German Jews left Germany there were only 200k murdered by Nazis. They had to invade other countries to hunt down people. Looking at how similar laws are being enacted here that were part of the past history the sadness is life is repeating itself. The only issue is I do not see a Churchill speaking out. I do not see a statesman that I can trust. The media is bought, the cover stories written evil's plan is working. Shame to say it, where to run to in the end when safety is a questionable thought.
Censorship is a strange reality. To say no to an idea. A concept. I think libraries should be the new schools, and we should assign teachers’ books that they can explain and show how to use. Meaning? If a child wants to learn to build a birdhouse. Then why not let them learn to build a birdhouse. How much money can a bird house builder make? Depending on the birdhouse and creativity of the child from maybe 0 to millions if they write their story or produce a movie. That censorship of online classes happens I can understand. I am after all a bit. I do not know the word. I would say insane. In yet, all I am doing is writing about what I see. Maybe a journalist? I would have made a fairly good one. Most people doing my interviews now do not realize I did interviews in the 90s for rather interesting people too. Change an election, no doubt. Laughter to the three people that might even know who I wrote about.
Censorship of creativity has always been a normal. The system of things wants a solid line with no one drawing outside the outlines. I think of the lone outliner, he or she were the ones most likely to have their souls stolen and their dreams smashed beyond repair. Those that look at the norm and say this is abnormal and things could change for the better. They say dreamers? I think if anyone says that to me. I point out that I made reality out of those dreams more often than the average person.
Surely, reality is stable and real. The more I read the Secrets of Light, the poetry speaks to me. Sure it might be odd poetry. I think that is the secret, is it not? To realize that all of this is some absurd game and that complete reality could have happened in a second, which seemed like millions of years to those playing the game. And now? An ending, I suppose. I watch that ending and realize it is man made via God’s hand. That everything has a game or purpose is an awkward to realize, I supposed.
That I am censored yet again for writing my book online class is humorous, I suppose. They have mocked me in Europe, the crazy man. And? I still talk to a poet I admire. He went swimming the other day, and I asked how was it. His reply was to talk about his brother passing away this year. I miss him too. He was Winnie the Pooh in the flesh. That I have the teachers to thank for the censorship yet again is sad. I had hoped to write another book before the teachers read my work. I am sure their outline structure is not the way they expected me to use it. However, their course helped me talk about ideas, concepts and my meaning I have put to this weird adventure. Live within the lines.
Why? I lived in hell for a long time and I have no desire to rule there what so ever. Even for a second you could have that reality and all those that do not follow the Way. I wonder in my mind. Did I do something different or read something odd or twist something wrong that I can not follow the path I see all going down? I try to say hey change. Then I realize something. This too is the past. And if this is the past, I am talking to the dead. And the dead most likely can not change. Even if I say hey you are ending is not something I would want nor now wish for on anyone. That you did however makes a question on or in my mind. I am still not sure in the end am I to be evil or good? Or vomited out once more to experience this weird reality once again?
That I can not speculate on that is absurd. In yet the more I read, the less I understand. Maybe you need a teacher? I doubt outside of one of three people I would accept their answer. And? They are dead and their words still haunt me.
I confess, I am madly in love with a woman who is the figment of another manś imagination. That I don't sleep when I have a chance to re read certain passages. That bring about emotions that feel. Well, like so much like love. That to even describe them. I lose some thoughts as to what real love means.
Reading for escape is not just a pastime. It is a way of life. That I could re read most of everything I read and remember a bit of and there which makes me. Makes me want to be an adventurer but not really.
Letś be honest. I am a romantic still living at the time of tribulation and nothing I write or read seems to keep people from doing harm to each other is wildly not what I expected. I always kept a book with me at almost allt rimes in case of emergencies. Like you know social gatherings. Who wants to be bothered with people that are fake? Meaning? I know who is ill, I know who is sleeping with someone else. I know for example the shoe sizes of several women. And in yet. When I ask them to purchase a pair of shoes for me? They still have to ask. And? 11 wide. But the answer is always the same and their forgetfulness or me not being important. Well, it makes me realize that my imagination and the women that live there are much better than real life at times.Certain character types I love. When I start a book from an author I have never read before and find within a character that makes me want to be a better human. I binge read everything. How oh partially blind, completely deaf one? Simple a matter of being a sco
That most of my authors say sorry for killing my favorite character. And my reply hey it is too late for apologies.Okay You broke my heart and I finished your series anyways. Perhaps I am not a warlock like some of my friends or witch, nor am I a tribute, or a shadow-hunter. Note I have run in with them from time to time. Nor am I divergent hero or a demigod. But I am a reader and that DEARIE IS THE SAME THING.
You see when the worlds plural my dearie I travel a lot come crashing down around me. I pick up a book and live so many more lives that you would hardly understand what it is I did or do who who I am.
"What if I told you the world that you see around you does not exist..." The moment when you are reading a book and the whole world around you does not exist anymore. Books build that place in your imagination.... a book is a magic portal to another dimension. The question is it real. Does it exist. I thought not at age 45 and three months. May 18th was a basic day for a disabled person who had ran away to La Paz Bolivia from the United States. At 9 PM instead of watching the final Grimm program I turned into bed to sleep. Little did I know that would be my last day with my family, my reality and a way of life. At 7 AM I was awoken by a woman who sounded like and looked like my wife. She was in a hurry busily ordering me around to do this and to do that. Now to understand my puzzlement was I already do my own thing. To have my wife come into my room on a day I was suppose to do something was unexpected and a bit wild. Anyway she bossed me upstairs to take a shower. That was odd. I showered downstairs normally and well. I did what I was told because well I really had no idea what else to do. I got out of the shower and noticed that the windows had changed. I went outside and almost fainted for in my normal view I would see a mountain called Illimanti directly south east of where I would come out. That I was missing a mountain was rather disturbing. I followed all the insturctions and was quiet. My next huge surprise was how rich this new world was. The cars, vans everything was like 3 years or newer. Coming from a world where they held cars together with chewing gum and string this was an experience.
Adventure reading is a life on its own
Dreaming of ships fighting in space or at sea
Vivid books storytelling a venture is insane
Eternity written across the universe of books
Need a memory live within an adventure in a tale
Time is nothing for those that read
Until one realizes time has passed by
Reality is nothing compared to space divided by light cubed
Eternity is the book of life written within a book
Reading pirate stories is a truth
Eternity, a storyteller’s dream
A memory in time
Dreaming about a story told for eternity
I live as a pirate throughout time
To a Friend,
Friend, I must say that I eluded you, my whole life. When I thought, I knew what to do in friendship it turned messy and horribly wrong for me. It took me ten years to get over what those seven years meant to me. I have to say being wounded; they say is good when happens by a friend. The issue was, and is you never really were a friend were you?
I was always the one to help fold chairs, pick up crap from those around doing the fun stuff. When it was my turn people, and you tended to turn away from me; while I took my turn, I guess. I thought since I at least got into the activity I was making friends.
What is this friendship but a lie of course that is my realization? I realize now that participating and friendship is a different thing. I realize after seventeen years of being the good person, you really were not a pleasant friend, that you know me less than you did seventeen years ago. I realize that I wasted time, energy, and hope in creating a friendship that I should have realized never was to be. Maybe that is why I am friendless now. You see, I am tired of picking up other people’s garbage; I am weary of folding their chairs; I am exhausted by doing something to make a friendship.
I think I will stick with books from this point on an ever more. Friendship has eluded me all these years, and now I realize it was not for my lack of trying. No. It was not for my lack of giving up time to do things. No. I realize now you were precisely a piss-poor person not looking for a friend at that moment you just wanted someone who could fold chairs and be the janitor.
One thing was certain, that the WHITE kitten had had nothing to do with it:—it was the black kitten’s fault entirely. Yes, as a wino I assigned blame for the law of gravity at times. The reason? Obviously the White kitten did nothing to move my glasses from my reading stand. One might say that is an odd assertion or memory. Why would you be mad at a kitten moving your glasses? Well? It was not just my glasses. It was a lot of things of late. I was missing books. That I thought my wife was trying to kill me. How? I was guessing she got in the night and rearranging my whole room made me think I was going mad. Thus, I attempt to drink some sense into myself. That I had locked the door and only had two kittens in the room with me. Well, the White kitten was my friend and was on my lap. And I certainly did not drop my glasses on the floor behind a stack of books long overdue to be read. That left the black kitten.
However, even as I say this I wander about and realize the room had changed. What if the black kitten had not knocked my glasses off the reading stand? And why on earth is the top book open? Whose title was Enders time journals now open to a passage on something that I knew by heart. I looked at the journal. A madman’s find in a Bolivian second-hand book story in 1997. The words were. Egads the words changed. Laughing at both kittens, I hugged them and sat down to re-read a book that kept on changing daily for the past. Well, exactly how long have I been caught in a trap of time?
I remember waking up and observing that I was no longer in my room a long time ago. All I can say is do not tell the doppelganger wife or wives that you are seeing things, and that history has changed. Why? After spending 1,000s of dollars on 15 or 17 doctors, they all said the same thing. Which was? I was fine for a disabled man. In yet? How could I be fine? What was at stake was reality? What could be changed in the time of tribulation if Ender's journal was correct? Was he correct? I doubted that much at the beginning of this story, and you too can see why? Come now. My first attempt to communicate the dilemma which in my reality was spelled dilemna. Sent to roughly 538 members. Of various political groups, and associates met with silence. A glass of wine to think. Here kitten play with this.
One might say what did the shrink one of the 17 doctors tell you? Well? He said I was living a past life. I pointed out if the internet was right along with my journals; he was the one that was dead. He kind of got anxious at that statement. I said would he like me to prove it? Prove it? Yes. You see there is physical proof. And well I did. He prescribed me some rather unique blue pills sent me away. I sent him an email with a journal and never heard back from him again. Makes me love my kittens even more. Now, a funny meme. I wonder what people would think of a kitten drinking wine?
So what have I been doing these past few years? Trying to fix things via email is interesting. No one responds to a crazy person, evidently. What gets me is my resume here as well as where I was? My resume shows a rather high level of expertise in maters that I write about. When nothing seemed to happen I begin to consider other possibilities. If there was more wine. I think yes if people were drinking more win there would be more peace. Where did all the winos go?
Like what had brought me back to La Paz, Bolivia. Meaning? How many pink expatriate from the United States wander the streets? That are looking like a one legged, one-eyed pirate? Think a mostly Spanish native America country, how many aliens do you see? Laugh with me. My journals tell of me seeing some rather strange people. Maybe the café I ate at is a crossroads for parallel time traveling with strangers. That often I would bump into and say hello. Spooky? No, not at all. Kind of fun to freak out a 8 foot giant white man. Why? Bolivia is populated with people roughly 5 7 feet tall or below. To see giants here is an experience. Make me want to drink. Great the kitten has taken all my wine.
Enough of details because that would not explain the new worlds I was seeing daily. I wrote about them for a while on paper and then one day they were all gone. So I posted a lot of them on Cosmofunnel and that too disappeared. So I wrote a rather long journal, one night, copying from here to there and posed. If you would like a laugh. Read “A wondering mind of the multiverse" by Clinton Siegle. Realize I have been attempting to communicate with people for a rather long time to say hey,on stop being evil. I think when the winos left this world became evil.
I think the test is to find out what would make people rethink their actions. I mean, having traveled through worlds. Seeing different realities endings I should be more concerned. After all, it is not every day occurrence. Let alone a few years that a person can see a new world each day. Quiet, an expensive experience. Maybe that is the question. What began this journey? I wrote about it to a few friends. I remember the day rather well. Hey, kitten stop that.
I was writing on Facebook Pirates of the Caribbean when my computer started doing things. Hacked? Sure my computer is not hack proof. However, what it was doing was amazing. What was it doing? It was reading journals and stories and poems and ideas that I had placed in hiding that no one should be able to see. Why? I had already submitted them to publishers and awaited their reply. So? Well, like this story. I expect no one will read it. Or if they do, they did not understand the concept. Or thought the ideas were maddening, let alone not worth of anything. What got me was how whatever or whoever was reading my stuff was letting me know it or they or she was there. How? I date my journals. I time stamp a lot of things because of issues in my life. And well? They changed. That was in September 2015 plus or minus a 4.5 billion years. I lived on an earth according to the internet which was on Sagittarius. On the outer edge of the galaxy 377,000 light years across, where in 365,000 years that earth was to hit the next galaxy? Memories. The question is if I dreamed this too or is this some sort of wine induced dilemna now spelled dilemma? Why are the kittens playing with my shoes? Oh? Great Sketchers now spelled Skechers in yet the spellcheck shows Skechers is wrong? Look kitten see the screen?
So what has this to do with two kittens, Enders journals, and a madman locked in a room? Let me be honest. In my reality I did not expect to see the Mark of the Beast. Nor that Microsoft would turn evil. Like some movie director Microsoft becomes Umbrella corporation and tries to sterilize humanity? Kind of eye opening evil discovery. I wonder what to do? Pray? Dear Lord, change the hearts and minds of Bill Gates, and George Soros to believe in Jesus Christ. Sounds good. Kind of a plan of peace. Kitten stop that.
That is my message from a future that can no longer exist if I am telling you the truth. Why is that? I have met many travelers. So have you? Meaning? People tell their tales and you realize they think their memories are real. Example? George Bush Jr Saddam killed Mandela. Obama visited 57 states out of 58. Hillary Clinton and I came a very similar reality. Where Abe Lincoln was a senator for a few years prior to being the president. Joe Biden fighting Corn Pop.
Has my message be good, turn to peace, stop evil worked? Laugh with me, folks. I see humanity fighting each other, not for the same reason you do. Why?
I have had to rewrite and review almost all of my history. To my recollection I never heard of Montauk project in my world. I was a conspiracy reader there too. Why? I knew things and knew they were true. If they were considered conspiracy stories most likely, they were true elsewhere too. Meaning? Through time I discovered that Montauk Project. The story changes through realities. It went back in time stole souls. From those that were to be good or saved and placed them in realities in which they would be corrupted.
Laugh all you want. I thought I was going mad the first few times i listened to the story. They would say the project took 2,500 people. I re-listened to the story following that. The story changed. From 25,000, then to 250,000 next jumped to 2.5 million. I gave up listening for a time. I finally I went back the number was 25 million people they used in the project.
So what? The story was pretty easy for me as a planner, it was not too hard to realize that they stole souls. Spreading throughout the galaxies until they could not find those souls anymore. Being allowed into or going into heaven. Meaning? I am either heaven bound which I doubt. Or I am dimensional traveler possessing this body for one day at a time. Until I reach back into time or more specific I might be what is called a demon? I doubt that too, however it is one or the other.
Meaning? You have heard of the Mandela effect? The story goes, those souls most likely are returning to their bodies for the day of judgment.
To realize one night’s sleep is opening a doorway to. I am not really sure nowadays. I believe in Jesus Christ. Still, I remember what I did and what I am doing. That antifas according to Montauk project is trying to move all the good people out of harm’s way. Of the future wars, earth quakes, and volcanoes which will soon hit these realities. It is awkward to say the least. Do I stand for right? Which side is right? The tale is told in yet no one seems to believe me one way or another. Stop that White kitten.
The sense of danger increasing is wild. In the reality I was in October 2019 plus or minus billions of years ago, the last super-moon happened until 2035. Now, I see that there are two super-moons and 12 full moons in 2020. Kind of different reality? No? Black kittn please, stop.
Meaning? Well. I studied calendars when I was a child. Specifically, I wrote about them. I remember the current calendar being off by thirteen years in my reality. Here according to the only calendar that matters, the Ethiopian calendar that is now only 8 years. Meaning? The end of the real 2012. It is happening on September 8 through the 19th, depending on the reality should be something to see. And that the super-moon on August 31st should be interesting. Why? Mandela effect souls travel via moonlight for those passing through these worlds.
What is the sad moment? The sadness is realizing people will laugh at this story and not change their ways. Stop being evil. Do good. Be Good.
The final battle has already been won by God. What? If you have not figured life out by now let me clue you in. Energy equates to light times light times light. Meaning? Light is matter too. This reality is nothing more than a reanimated reality. The sun projector rewinding the souls to a point in time when the Great Story teller God will have his way. What about all the other realities? I have heard of them nuked. I have heard of them being frozen to death. Via a CO2 cloud coming out of the Atlantic ocean covering Europe and much of east coast and Africa. I have heard of their endings. I have seen the zombie story in a very vivid dream in 2003.
In the end, the battle is God’s. He will have his way. That he explains that the bad branches of the vine are pruned and burnt is a reality that I am seeing these days. That I read a little more of the journal of Ender and wonder. What could I have done differently? Should I do more? Life, what is it but a dream?
.
There is always a time too look back to remember things. I was back to the area with the library and secret room close to Thanksgiving time a few years later. The shelf, I had expected someone else would have found that secret room. However, at 12 I visited the library because a great uncle had passed away and younger cousin. Their age were completely different both from different cancers one 87 and the other 5. The older uncle was named Gus. He, I remember made quite a fuss and told course jokes to women. I expect he was a dirty ole uncle but whom knows. The younger named Matt was form bone cancer. I cried that day for him. That was a spooky time. At that age I believe I had been to 15 funerals and none of them happy events.
At that time I was rereading letter one. I toke away some advise that as a young as I was I could not use. Always be bold. Always spend carefully. Be friendly. Take all opportunities for chance. Luck favors those prepared but luck favors more those that will try something new or different. Babsy bumped into General Smith who informed Babsy that the count was still out for blood
Taking some of the advice I spent a 20 dollar bill there on the plains of North Dakota. Humor how doing something right meaning I exchanged the twenty bill from 1919 for a bill could cause so much venture and excitement. The question asked was where did you get this. Then I said I got it there in the town. I did anyway I did not get the item I had tried to purchase instead an investigation of who and why I would have such an old bill went into play.
All I can say was that Thanksgiving I meet more people from that town thaen any other day. Everyone was interested in where Iw as from and where I was going and where I had been. Humor I said the truth. I was visiting a funeral of my great uncle and cousin. The town was alive with curious investigation. I figured someone would find that secret room but the only thing that happened that I knew about then was some ole men going through the bookshelves where I had sat. I guess no one toke down that book that moved the shelf but there was several books checked out that day.