It's Sunday, May 16, 2011. A little worse this past week or so in real life. It's been rainy a lot this spring, makes the delivery take longer, but that's OK. Still making extra money keying online, and it's doing well.
But have been imagining those people mentioned in the post called 1969, the mother and her two kids, so I think I should update what they have been up to. The dad from that family died a few years ago. I guess that gave the rest of them the go-ahead to go on a rampage, and they sure have.
The last time I saw the mother from that family was about 2007, as I noted in the 1969 post. I saw that deranged girl from that family in the early '90s at her grandmother's funeral. I walked up to her and called her by her nickname, and she immediately turned me around and pushed me away from her. What a laugh, I guess she can't trust that her own imprints from 1969 would come back. That's her problem, but being raised by an alcoholic mother and a sometimes violent dad should give her some perspective about where her real problems come from. She's so hateful.
I saw that guy from that family in about 1986 while I was working at a gas station. I should have known something was up when some guy I worked with came up behind me and said, "someone told me to call you b___ (my nickname from childhood)." I thought it was strange and said, "sounds like someone has their head up their ass." As it turns out, that guy was a friend of '69 guy, aka FF. Knew each other pretty well, I guess. I remembered that the coworker mentioned that FF sister, deranged girl, CC, was getting married. Didn't much care.
So coworker seemed like a nice guy, was going to school to be a teacher, probably did -- not sure. We used to take turns going out back behind the shed and hit the one-hitter, taking a hit of pot here and there. It never did much for me, using a one-hitter, but it was nice. He said he got his pot from FF, who bought it from one of his uncles. I can guess which one, the one who came to the house once in about 1971 or 1972. I think he sold or gave some pot or whatever to sister T. He kind of looked at me, and T just waved me off, like "don't mind him, he doesn't know what the hell's going on."
One night after work I went with coworker to the house of the coworker's sister to feed her dogs. She was out of town or whatever. So I slept on the couch, and woke up just in time to see coworker on the phone, and he said, "gotta go, he's waking up." Weird. Reminds me of the time in '85 when I was walking through the living room, my cousin R was standing in the middle of the living room, on the phone, and says, as I passed by him, "yeah...he's here," staring at me the whole time. Same old crap.
*sounds like deranged girl is reading along for the benefit of some audience she has -- seems like she and her mommy can't stand to be thought of and are just waiting to shell out some retaliation if they don't like what they're reading.*
Seems scary now to think about that former coworker and that family. I remember once he said, "FF is alright, but his mother...sheesh." I didn't say anything, but yeah, she gets what she wants any way she can. At one time, FF was at the store, and coworker asked me what nationality my parents were, or something like that. It was probably FF feeding him a line, and I was supposed to say German, but I hesitated, and FF jumped in with Hungarian, also mine. It was just a cheap way of him getting a 'now you owe me moment.' And that reminds me of a few weeks ago. I had three papers left over from delivery, and had to backtrack to find where they go. But immediately, I imagined, as planned by those people, that some guy said that he knows where they go because he is psychic. I thought, "no thanks, I'll find where they go myself." First of all, FF ain't psychic. I've noticed before that there's always someone who has to 'help' me with delivery, I just can't go around by myself until someone goes through my maps and points out where to deliver. Bull. I know where to deliver, and it's just one of their head games they use to cause trouble -- to deliberately miss papers when I'm just not being their good little boy and letting them screw me over quietly. So they cause trouble like making me miss a house or three, and, oh, boy, how lucky I am that a psychic suddenly appears in my imagination to help me. Wow. A really transparent trick -- FF was just to ready to jump in there and say, here I am a psychic. Just my luck. I thought, "no thanks, I'll find my mistakes myself." He immediately said, "then talk to T (my sister)." No, I thought. He nodded towards my left when he said that, and I thought, "Oh, I'm supposed to look like I'm talking to myself? Not a chance." Then he said, "well then go G (my other sister)." No, I thought, I'm not going suicidal just because I have to find where some papers go." Secondly, it's just some dumbass way his mother contrived so I accept his "help" -- not to mention that they probably timed the misses themselves, and then suddenly only he can help me. No, accept help from them once, and then that asshole will just think he can bother me anytime he wants. I found where the papers went. I don't accept him as a "guide." Don't need a guide, and those people are just trouble and control freaks.
That FF showed up in my imagination in 1988, when I used to go to this guy's house in the neighborhood. He was a real druggie, not my kind of drugs, and not too mentally stable. I turned out to be mostly his chauffeur. But one day, and by then I was really waiting for that guy to just go away on his own, some guy came in the living room of that guy's apartment. I was watching tv, and some guy in socks, slacks and a pullover, said he was Steve, the druggie's psychiatrist and he "really shouldn't be doing this," but he was going to show me "the real mf." I stayed on the couch. I just sat there. It was the first time that the weird head games showed up there. I knew the guy had problems and probably had a shrink, but to show up in my imagination was really stupid of FF. I wouldn't even talk to or want to be around anyone who was being worked on (or 'worked over' is a better term). Like at An's house three years earlier when KS told me that I had to 'wake up' An. I refused then, and I didn't say or do anything at mf's apartment while this Steve was there. Then Steve went back into the kitchen/dinig area where I assumed mf was, and heard mf say, "I know the (or a) secret."
*seem like FF is reading a few words ahead for his audience, trying to show how he can feed me lines -- the control freaks put me through this "what are you going to do" rigmarole so they can manipulate their audience. They love to play psychic, fortune teller, etc. No one buys it, and I never did.*
After I stopped going over to mf's house, there were a few times when Steve showed up in my room with a phone and said, "please talk to mf. You gotta talk to mf." I refused. Mf really went downhill and was dead in six months, drug overdose. Guess he couldn't stand FF's head games.
So when I was imagining sitting in the auditorium-style setting in the last few posts, there again was this Steve, the guy on a chair in front of me with the brown paper hanging on the wall. It is FF, the '69guy, the one with the deranged sister. They and their extended family always have used people I worked with and others, strangers even, to cause head trouble, but with mf I think they really crossed the line. To play headgames with someone who obviously had problems, and a drug habit, is a crime. I found out last year, 2010, that this FF was arrested for dealing coke in 1986, and that really makes me wonder what kind of stuff he might have given mf. That really makes them worse people that others are only allowed to imagine.
*the audience asks if I ever had coke, and no, I've never done coke. If FF claims to have evidence or pictures, it's just contrived.*
A few months ago, I was at the usual convenience store before work, and some guy came in behind me. I was at the counter, and realized I was bent over, looking at the rack of lighters, frozen. I looked up at the cashier, and she just had her head up, looking away from me, and really red in the face. That guy, and it turned out to be FF, was holding something in front of my left eye, and he was just chuckling.It amazes me how stupid/clumsy/careless that the mother has gotten. If she lets FF actually do that crap in public, in front of real people, under security cameras, on tape, in a store where I've had more than one occasion to "meet" harassers, if that is acceptable to the harassers, it is just too sad. They just won't stop trying to sucker some real person into filing some complaint to cause trouble for me.
This is the same store where some lady triggered a 'thing' while I was at the counter. This broad was standing too close, on my left, holding up some money --just too obvious to me, it was someone's trigger used on me -- and I looked down, and saw half of a typing keyboard, and she said something like, "it's the only way we can communicate with him" (this was many months after I saw myself on tape, using a webcam and the windows movie maker, while sleeping, my fingers looked like I was typing in my sleep). There was no keyboard. She left the store before I did, and I thought she said, "I'll probably get fired for this. In more ways than one." So, who was she? Don't know. Fired in more ways than one? Maybe she was expecting for me to shoot her with my fingergun. I'm almost certain it was the same day and time I was at that store when I went into the bathroom before going to the counter. I was in there alone, and heard some lady screaming at me, the one I refer to as policewoman (see earlier post). But this time she was really loud, I mean LOUD. She always was loud ever since she first showed up in 1985. The screaming, hers not mine, stopped when I got out of the bathroom. It was the usual screeching about she's gonna get me, she's gonna make me pay, blah, blah, blah. Many years ago, she said something that she was getting even for her brother-in-law, or brother, something like that.
At least I have a variety of harassers. Maybe they try to outdo each other, maybe there's a door prize for that.
Yesterday, I thought I was at that woman's house, her kids were there along with my sister, J, and a bunch of younger people from her extended family. And they kept me there, putting posts on me for them to play out later, and of course called me a child molester. Looks like that mother is grooming her next generation of harassers. Deranged girl had a field day torturing my sister, (who I hear in real life is really ill). If she, sister J, is imaging the same thing, I feel bad for her because there are so many people who know about that family and do absolutely nothing but either watch the shows they put on or even help them. As always, I refuse to cooperate.
I still wonder who the ass clowns are that take me over to those people's house. I know that my uncle knows them, as do some of the teachers from the university back when I was going there, but who is dumb enough to deliver us, so to speak, to those idiots? I did imagine that my uncle was there, and maybe he should stay there. I never knew that uncle, or his wife and two girls, but they did visit quite often when sister J had her baby. I saw them more times in one month than I've ever seen them in my whole life, even up to this, my fiftieth year. And I was only passing through the kitchen, not sitting with them at all. And they brought this nasty habit with them of asking for money back in 1985, even FF and CC's mother, X, told my dad that he "had to help them" because it was "family". My dad refused. And so did I when KS asked me, at AN's house, that "if your uncle owed money, would you help him pay?" I said no, all three times she asked me.
But who would take me over to those people's house? I don't want to go there, wouldn't call them, don't have any interest in them at all, and still, someone somewhere thinks those people have the right to abuse, harass and torture me. As far as I'm concerned, those people, and the ones who help them, think they have the right to intrude into people's lives, make them suffer until they get people to sing their song and dance to their tune.
That's basically what's left of those people from 1969. The mother still orchestrates her harassers and gets all the help she needs and there are no consequences for her. She stopped coming over to the house in the late '80s, I actually called her in 1994, about the time I saw this counselor (three visits, really boring, totally useless when so many people can interfere) and went over to her house. It was boring, and now that I think of it, why the hell ever see her anyway? It is really stupid to have a face to face talk with her, my sisters, or those other idiots from the past knowing that they are so hypocritical with their constant, I never said that, that never happened attitude. What's to say anyway if your not going to play their headgames?
Rarely seen them in over a quarter century, and that is still not long enough for me.
