HomelessInLaJolla's Journal: 140206 (La Jolla, CA, 92037, war v7.124)

War in La Jolla, seventh year, one hundred and twenty-fourth entry

Recently picked up another shiny. Similar to this one, with far fewer sides and edges and corners, with the same rainbow colors on the facets. A little beaten up on the r-side (one of the ears of the heart is chipped and clipped, but in such a way that it would seem to have been deliberately fashioned), showing the decrystallinity in the center from shaping the heart and polishing the edges and corners. The size is about this.

Last night some idiot was following me around the block, as usual. I am hardly able to go anywhere, sit anywhere, without knowing that there will be a full twenty minutes of scheduled bullsh*t whenever I arrive to the next sitting area. Every seagull, crow, finch, sparrow, hummingbird, car horn from around the block, car alarm from around the block, and piezoelectric tweeter (fire alarms, air fresheners, other randomly available piezoelectric) appears to know and react flawlessly to perfect plain English theatre drama. Nary a dead dog on remote control, however, gives a sh*t about my voice. The dog will rubberneck on my fingertips and act as you in the theatre drama show, but the dog won't even twitch its ears when I begin to pound, pearl, otherwise exhibit a compression or open up my voice.

In the area of whether or not the dogs and car horns should notice... last night the idiot following me around the block waits a ways off for me to lay out the backpack and take out the coffee and tobacco. Then he comes up behind me, like so many of the dog faggitts have in the past (with their dog), breathing heavily... you know, because they've spent seven years stalking me around this block looking for my dick, and they have all the routines and lines in place because they have been completely unchecked the entire time. I had been telling the police, since the very first telephone call and incident, that the people around me were the problem. Now we really know. So the idiot comes up behind me breathing heavily (often they creep up behind me to have the dog breathe heavily, or bark... but six hundred dead remote control dogs daily during daylight care not a whit about my big voice), and I turn around and breathe heavily back at him, as if to question,"WTF are you doing?" Then he wants to stand and stare, at near ten o'clock at night, and then when I counsel him to keep going because I am not looking to meet any new friends in the dark hours, then he begins to argue. Obviously. The argument turns worse, and then he begins threatening to swing, holding up his hands and fists and advancing. I back away to avoid the compulsion to crush his head, and he does what all the other faggitts all the years have done and begins pawing at my backpack and my bags.

So I really turn on the air contest. Concentrate on the nose, concentrate on the frontal lobes, concentrate on pushing the air from the diaphragm. He continues to argue but, on occasion, he backs off and puts his hands on his knees like he is having trouble keeping up with exertion. I was puzzled. He didn't appear to be exerting himself that much to me. *shrug* But, if he's going to keep standing up off his knees and advancing on me again with his fists, then I am going to keep opening up on his eardrum and letting him have it.

Twenty minutes later he finally left and, eventually, the police arrived to ask about an argument. With no injuries and nobody around (as the faggitts always run off to the southeast quadrant across Torrey Pines and Girard), they left.

If I'm lucky maybe he woke up this morning with a head cold. Maybe he was only putting on the show. I'll keep working on that.

http://mapfortu.wikidot.com/

One of the primary environmental noises which made me think of the heroin wire remote control and the fully dead (not quite dead yet) remote control, in addition to the impeccable timing all day all year and the neverending swarm of day tourists, is the "johnny one-note" trick. For years of kicking about boogers devotedly (about the past three since the pilgrimage walk), improving my voice every day, getting over completely any susceptibility to the blowgun pulsing air cannon--box fan for laryngitis and common cold, increasing my range on the top bottom and filling in the middle, up to the last year filling up my voice, two months ago developing the "supra voce", three or four weeks of supra voce and now into three or four weeks of a daily schedule, a daily ramp ladder, for improving the supra voce and opening up with bigger sound every morning... each and every day... similar to the "not a point of sewing goes unnoticed" (car horns, bird calls, idiots on cell phones for near every point of sewing I have to display, for all the years that has taken)... each and every day there's the "johnny one-note" waiting around the corner. When working on voice there is much time spent on "ah" and pushing the lower range. That leaves entire minutes when the "ah" note doesn't really change until the next booger, set of boogers, or significant tightening in the entire facial structure. Without fail, and with a frequency and accuracy that made me think, the "johnny one-note" arrives from around the corner. The motorcycle, the car muffler, the airplane engine, the hele-chopper, the idiot on cell phone or talking with friend... all day every day the "johnny one-note" just coincidentally happens to match the note I am working on (and, if I am not working on it, then there is no "johnny one-note" trick waiting around the corners to mock my voice like a mimic child). The johnny one-note may not be as full, may not be as round, but will indeed match the particular "note" each and every time--car muffler, car engine, motorcycle exhaust, airplane, hele-chopper, idiot on cell phone or talking with friend. Johnny one-note after JON after JON all day long.

They are green eggs and ham brain damaged and heart diseased. They are not professional vocalists, and neither are all of the mechanical fill in noises. How else could such an enormous johnny one-note system be so well on demand and calibrated unless it were plug and play, like programming robots? That has always made me wonder. Aside from remote control, aside from secret wire audio network, aside from coordinated plays to chase targets and knowing the layout of the architecture ahead of time (and having hundreds of generations of practice chasing little children around the block and raping them with their dogs, cracking eggs to make the perfect millionaire ohm-let)... how else could such a johnny one-note be effected unless a large number of the participants are that completely on remote control?

Just what percentage of the world on sphinx and great wall is already dead (not quite dead yet), do y's'pose?