Life is like a party. I like to PARTY and by PARTY I mean read books.

A library discovery in La Paz, Bolivia

My Dear Alice,

I found a secret place recently. Someplace I think you would enjoy.

The La Paz Public Library. Not where you would expect to find a hidden English section.

Let alone a rare book.

In yet? The room was in the back section. I had gotten into the library, which is closed to

most via accident.

And? Forgive me. I was an explorer of sorts in my time. And? I got lost. I walk among

old books from the 30s, 40s, 50s, to 2018. Seems that funds had run short since.

In the back corner of the marble library. One could see that a room was there. Why?

Well, the square outline of the wall reached out from the window.

I went to see if there was a door or what was there? And? To my surprise, the complete

wall was covered with books. Now this perturbed me.

So, I looked again. And? Well, one shelf hid a door knob. And? Well, I turned the knob,

of course. I am an explorer of sorts, like I said.

Did I enter? Of course. It was lit by the sunlight of a window on the other side of the

wall.

Inside? I found a treasure of foreign books. Someone’s foreign book club.

I found French, English, Italian, and, of course, Portuguese, and a few Spanish books.

However, these were much older than the 1900s century.

The Spanish books were of the 1500s century. Old hymnals or something. A few were

in Aymara, even. Which, if you get a chance, has some wonderful musical songs.

The foreign book table now. That was unexpected. Seems like a few of the books.

Maybe I should say journals belong to personal people.

One? A according to a note. An ending of Che Guevara by Che? According to this.

Meaning my Spanish is poor. His ending, or at least the last six pages, was of interest.

“I am at the Bolivian military airport,” scribbling some names of people and I think

Castro or an agent of the CIA. “They have betrayed me” Then a drawing of sorts.

Wonderful, I can say Che knew how to draw. “Every move I make, the CIA tells the

Bolivians” Then a blood-soaked page is hard to read, but the words? “T was not the CIA

but Castro who betrayed m”

Interesting, no? The next journal I found according to the note next to it belongs to Harry

Alonzo Longabaugh? Humor, the note stated, Sundance Kid? Humor reading it was fun.

According to Mr. Longabaugh or Sundance, they had just robbed their seventh bank in

Bolivia. And? So, here is something no one seems to realize. Seems Harry and Robert

LeRoy Parker, or Butch Cassidy, had a falling out. And? Cassidy was going back to the

states. Meaning? Seems Butch or Bob referenced in the journal left before the last page

of the journal. And? Most likely according to the note Robert LeRoy Parker or Butch or

Bob per the note lived in Nevada until 1927.

The next note was something wild. It was a complete book in English called the Bolivian

Time Traveller. By Clinton R. Siegle. If you find the first two stories hard to believe, his

story is wildly speculative fiction. Or at least that is what I thought in 2019. Now in 2021?

I realized I was reading a time traveller journal. Some of which you can find online if you

search “Wandering mind through the multiverse”. The book, more than a journal,

references almost everything he talks about and shows photos.

Finally, I got the rare book. A picture book by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Let me be

honest. Lewis Carrol books in Bolivia are not what I expected. I opened it. I had to

rethink reality for a moment. Why? Child pornographic or a person taking photos? Not

what I expected. There were at least a few short stories.

One on the Ways. For those into the Wheel of Times. It would seem Mr. Dodgson knew

magic of a sort. According to the story, one night while he was practicing something. His

mirror opened up well. Gave him a scare. The whole story was absurd, of course. Now?

Now in 2021, I wonder if I am the one that is absurd.

I had the gall to ask the person running the library if I could take three of the books with

me. Seems the person let alone did not care. But she was happy to be rid of some of

the books. It seems the new political party was planning on destroying parts of the

library.

And thus my dear Alice, my adventure in the La Paz Library. Oh, I did finally finish

rewriting the Bolivian Time Traveller. Attached is a copy.

https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/1263522769311731712

Please do write. It has been eons since I have heard from you that long ago night on

Sagittarius or was it just a dream?

Sincerely,

Clinton R. Siegle

Landscape of dream quatrain acrostic

Landscape of dreams in which I live.

A fickle dream where one day wear.

New Sketchers and the next Skechers.

dream away on this sweet sweat day.

Silly memory eats sweet treats.

Come now, nightmares all sleep away.

A time to dream away today.

Perfect landscape of dreams today.

Eternity slipping away?

Open heaven or hell or well?

Finding faults with my soul today.

Dream on to Mandela effected.

Reality is meant for living?

Eternity a question, mine?

Am I living a dream today?

Memory of different landscape.

People don’t read like they used to. Mr. Baum wrote 14 books in this reality. In another there are

another three books. Your laughter about my escapism called lately here in this reality Mandela

effect is sad. You see, reading used to be my escapism of reality.

That until someone pushed me into this absurd story. How absurd of a story? I have seen the

rapture. Lost 1.2 billion people from my reality on Sagittarius to this reality on Orion nebula.

What were the three books about? There was a short story about some guy named Mr. Nick

Chopper. Who absurdly makes a dead man into a living monster. Almost like Frankenstein. And

it is very similar to the story of The Tin Woodman of Oz.

However, it is a bit more dark. Going into revving humans via electricity or something. Looking

back, it almost seemed like a Borg manual on how to build a human from dead parts. Laugh with

me on my escapism. For I can no longer find that book here in this reality. The other two books?

One was in wars. The other was a love story with Dorothy. I don’t recall either of them much

beyond that.

Surely, I am escaping reality. There are only 14 books by Mr. Baum or was his name Ward??

Sometimes. I wonder. And of the three I remember which is the most? I think the one which

seemed more like Wonderland, to be honest. For some reason it seemed Lyman actually placed

his child in that story. It was an earlier story about the Wizard of Oz.

A child taken to Oz. How? My recollection is that the child fell asleep like Alice in Wonderland

by a tree. I doubt I can recall much more. However, I do recall that one of the characters was

being told the does and don’ts of life. Almost like a nutsy rhyme. It was quite fun to read. Where

was I when I read it? Ah. Yes. Escapism? That story I can tell you. I was in a library on the

plains of Dakotas. My mom was with some relatives. And I? I was not wanted like usual.

And had found myself being left at the local library this was the 70s prior to the US government

getting involved with kidnapping children and all that. There I found a rather odd book. The first

few I wrote about elsewhere. An ex KGB writer, about how the Kremlin had two Mona Lisa’s,

one as large as the one in the Louvre Museum. and the other a smaller version. There were 28

books with Ward Baum along with a rather interesting text on things that are best left unsaid.

And a collection dedicated to Lyman from the Ward family. I think they thought he was part of

their family or something The Ward family had donated a lot of the books there. Maybe they had

all died? I knew I was related to them. How or why? I don’t know. But they had donated a

collection of Ruth Ward of Ward Baum books.

So. Let me think. This was the 70s. And I? I could read them. Not like the 80s. For some reason,

I went from being rather smart to be rather dull. Maybe Sagittarius reality spelling is the

problem. After all dilemna there is a dilemma here. And I did rather good at school up to a

certain point in my life. Shame on those that are part of this mystery. Did I escape them? Well, if

I am here and they are still there. Here has died billions of years ago to them and to me today? It

has only taken me a few days. Meaning?

I escaped hell and have no plans on-going back. Hell is real. However, they do have some rather

fine books to read. So now back to the 70s. I read parts of it. To be honest, I was not into the

Wizard of Oz at that time. I was into cowboy books. I think I was in Jamestown or Velva, North

Dakota and their collection held some rather interesting pieces of cowboy literature.

One of the books donated from a local LaMoore titled the real ending of Butch Cassidy told a

story I heard in 80s. Thus in that book that I read in the 70s which I think was written in the 40s

and published locally the guy as a miner ran into Cassidy in Nevada in the 1920s. Cassidy at the

time was running bootleg liquor. How he escaped Bolivia and ended up in Nevada the book did

not explain but some of the ways that he smuggled booze from Nevada into California was rather

humorous.

So? Where was I? I seemed to have escaped reality yet again. Which is real? My story? Or that

there were or are only 14 Wizard of Oz stories? I doubt I know anymore. I do know reality

changes by the day. So maybe I will find those three titles and remember to write them down or

remember them the next time they show up. Meaning after all Mandala me this or Sketcher me

that.. Time is but a drop in a bucket of reality for those traveling these days. I might have a long

way to go.

A long way to go. Yes. I think that was the story about. I think Mr. Ward or Baum had suffered

something. And the story held out the morals of what he learned. That life is cruel. And like most

cruel worlds, people were soulless. Or for fantasy types golems. Or for the Jewish types golems

too.

Makes me wonder. He seemed to address his failures in an attempt of rebuilding himself or the

character of the story into someone or somebody new. Seems rather odd. Remember, I was like

what six or five or was seven and this was the 70s prior to Star Wars or any monster movies in

my life. Let’s be honest, I was a G rated childhood and pretty much a G rated life.

All I remember was the monster wanting revenge and had a pretty decent excuse to destroy those

he could take hold of. And instead forgave them and walked away. It made me into something

different, I must say. Meaning? Ask those that picked on me through my life. I am owed a lot.

Do I owe anyone? I think not.

Time is not what one expects

I find myself watching time

memories that shift through time

eternity in time is something I did not expect

space varying time

Peaceful at times

A chance to switch time

coned match making space in time

eternity is light coned with time

light coned or mass.,

In fact, space equates to light coned with the movement energy of time

gives one time to think more about time

how reflective is the light of time.

Time

So. My voice sounds a cross between Garfield, the cats’ and Eeyore, the donkey in Winnie the Pooh. And I sing.

I sing songs long forgotten. I sing of pirates. For I wanted to be a pirate when I grew up. But the navy would not have me.

I wanted to travel the seven seas. And swim in the oceans before Japan killed them.

In this photo? I was running late to London, England. I had crossed over from France recently, doing a tour of sorts.

Yes, people paid me. Yes, it was mostly out of pity. That poor deaf one-eyed one footed singer who sounds like a cat dying.

I had all my stuff in a pillow case suitcase and my guitar, which I could play only three cords. Reason the others were broke. And being deaf, I some tuned them out of rhyme and tune because. Well, a C sounded like a D and so forth.

Thus, my music was that of an absurd type and my voice matched. And the places I played were those bars where naked ladies were being paid. Reason? The ladies loved my music. It focused their clients on them and not their surroundings or the music.

The clients paid me to shut down as soon as they could. Meaning if you ever hear a cat crying at night. Then think about that during the chaos of sexual pleasure. In a cathouse and realize my Winnie the Pooh voice might be pretty disturbing.

So I made my living crossing France playing at lady of the nights clubs and bookstores. That people would wonder how or who in their right mind would invite me to.

Reason? Oh, I wrote a few books here and there. Read by a select few thousand. Why? I write and people want to hear that they are dead.

My life story is not for the faint of heart. I lived. Or live my life in a pillow case suitcase after all. And that I can show via photos and stories at different times and realities makes those who read me wonder.

Latest notable work? A story about how we aged 660,000 years these past two years. How so?

Speed time and distance. In our lives, we are to travel 0.2 light years in 66 years of life. And? So?

Well, according to NASA and others, we traveled 2,000 light years. Meaning? Well, speed of earth stayed a constant. But distance changed. And so? Well Speed constant, and distance 2,000 light years. Means we aged 660,000 years these past few years. Kind of wild and, of course, I wrote the formulas with references and math etc out. And no one seemed to care but those watching for the Planet X.

That the Planet X is already here and so forth was another story. Here?

Sure. That story has been written too. If you want to see the Planet X go to Google maps. Look up Fallon, Montana, and look into the sky. Then drive from Fallon Montana to Glendive Montana. Then look into the sky and realize that a simulator. Or mirror is hiding the planet and that we are or were all dead a long, long time ago. And this? This is some simulator and we are fighting the internet of things or for those into sci fiction. Cylons.

Yeap. I did not believe that until I read the ingredients of the vaccine. The little nanobots injected into the humans are killing humans, making those vaxed into toasters or Cylons. Kind of wild.

So back to the train and me running away to London, England. I sort of got the bug and went unmasked across Europe. I was going to be the unmasked V. And tell people they are dead. Now. You think this is weird? Think I am singing my songs to those paying to have sex and traveling via train. And doing it all with a guitar with three strings in the tune of Garfield, the cat. Surreal? Surreal is you have made it this point in the story.

So there I was with this as my background story when I realized why should I have to wait 20 years to blow up Parliament of the United Kingdom building? If I did it now, I could cut 20 years off of building a track in the subway system. The idea appealed to me.

However, I don’t like bombs or explosions. So instead I sat in front of Parliament of the United Kingdom and sang my songs. Now England is a tolerant place for blind one footed gents. The darlings and The Boyz loved the songs. But the message seemed not to be getting to them.

The message? That the internet of things could not hold all of them so the vax limited their reproduction system and kill them. Sad but truthful is true.

And? The message got to the Parliament of the United Kingdom which had me arrested for disturbing the peace after a time.

The moral of the story? Time traveller trying to change the fate of reality change nothing and often makes people are trapped in hell not even realize who or what is going on around them.

Thus after I got released. I had my guitar and no pillowcase. So I left England and sought like-minded people among the gypsies.