Metaphysic Storm

To protect the guilty, I will not be using proper names in my discussion of them, the others that have been communicating with me. I’m well aware that what I have experienced in the past two years is identical to the symptoms of schizophrenia: I hear messages in the radio, I believe the order my movies are delivered are systematically arranged to relate to my current state, messiah complex, messages directed to me in tee shirts and license plates, musical albums written about my life, television episodes written around me, etc. It’s such an egotistical thought that it even disgusts me a little. I’ve even speculated that the reason behind this is to learn how to push people into schizophrenic states. The Matrix has me and I don’t know what they want.

I know that I’ve had many false positives in my search for anomalies. Many times it’s hard to make a determination. But I regularly experience events that are way outside the bounds of the bell curve. Today on the radio I heard that this was the anniversary of civil rights leader Martin Luther King’s last speech. I know that King didn’t see god on this day for me but… My mind associated his speech with the inevitable danger I feel I’ve put myself in, in publishing about the people who have violated my civil rights: mental torture and violating my privacy.

[Dr. King’s mountain top speach]

Later I listened to the DJ as he repeatedly said that they were washing there hands of this traffic. Over and over, he’s washing his hands. I’ve been a dirty boy. I actually felt guilty for revealing what’s been happening to me. I got a wicked case of Stockholm. Don’t get me wrong, they haven’t done anything bad to me (that I know of) except driving me to the point of insanity and removing any feeling of privacy. When they made their first hello and the three intense months that followed, I realized they had been watching me for quite a long time, acquiring a massive amount of data on me to use in their manipulation. But there is a possibility that I’m wrong about the time they’ve had their eyes on me. I’m an open book with people and it wouldn’t take that long to build intelligence about my past to use against me. What’s bothered me the most is that if they do wash their hands of me how would I know that my privacy is actually back?

Before they said hello, I started to notice exceptionally strange things happening in my life when I bought my Quest minivan, traveled across the Republic painting and wrote my philosophy, 801. I felt like my Antisupernaturalism was being tested with weirdness. My family even said that god’s guiding me because I moved from New Orleans a month before the storm. If god does exist, he like Ray bans. But that’s another story.

An hour ago I finished watching the first episode of the second season of lost, “Man of science, Man of faith.” You know, that’s the show about a bunch of people that end up on an island and all the people have freakish events that put them there. Jack and the crew blew the hatch that Lock found in the middle of the ghost infested jungle. The hatch only opened from the inside and when it came off had the word “quarantine” on the inside. Hurley warned against opening it because a set of cursed numbers were engraved on the outside. I believe the numbers are 4 8 15 16 36 and 42. 42, of course, is the answer the improbability computer spit out to the question, “what is the purpose of life?” in “A Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy.” I took a screen shot of the wall at the bottom of the hatch

As you can see, there is the number 42, a bunch of Jebus fishies, a house (the symbol of the self), an arrow pointing up, the word “SICK” and the number 108 in the middle of a sun. I tattooed the symbol of the sun (also a symbol for freemasonry) on my ankle when I was 15.

Jack: It was a Tour de Stade.
Sarah: What?
Jack: When you run all the steps in every section of a stadium up and down.
Sarah: Why would you do that?
Jack: I’m intense.
Sarah: Did you finish?
Jack: No, I hurt my ankle.
Sarah: That sucks for you.

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