a letter to dennis

i sure hope i'm supposed to go to work at 1:30 instead of 12:30, because that is what i read on the schedule (i think) and that is what time i'm going in.

i finally wrote, photocopied, and mailed dennis my 'i am not a hypocrite' letter. the 'i am not a hypocrite' letter is referring to how i compare my dennis situation to the martin situation, with roles reversed. dennis is the annoying stalker who won't leave me alone while i'm at work and wants to talk to me all the time (i use 'stalker' loosely here - he is not literally a stalker) and i'm his 'only friend on earth' etc, etc. i assume that martin might see me the same way - yes, even though he reads my other blog enough to find the youtube link and then go watch my videos and mimic my facial expressions while adding a finger gesture that i mentioned in a letter i wrote to him.

so every time i have a problem with dennis, i end up thinking of martin and asking myself what i would want martin to do, out of courtesy to me, which he isn't doing. so i wrote dennis a letter, explaining some of what the problem was.

i have been affected by drugs the last few days and i can tell that i am right now, too. it was putting me into a bad mood. that is one of the reasons why i actually wrote the letter when normally, i wouldn't.

i don't like telling people that i have 'irreconcilable disagreements' with them. i already know that dennis cannot, and will not, do all of the extremely difficult things that i think he needs to do. so i just never ask people to do these things. i don't ask people to go through what i went through, or experience what i experienced. i learned about herbal residue contamination the hard way by handling ephedra, a potentially deadly drug, so it was very obvious and very severe whenever i had a reaction, and i threw away most of my clothing and some other belongings. i don't ask other people to learn about it the same way i did.

dennis is severely contaminated with tobacco. he doesn't know that he is. i know it, because i have touched objects at his house, and i have touched him, and immediately had a severe nicotine reaction.

but nicotine isn't life-threatening. when you touch tobacco residue, you don't go to the hospital afterwards. when you touch EPHEDRA residue, you DO go to the hospital (especially when you are also covered with several other drugs that interact with the ephedra, which i was). i went to the hospital several times for transient heart attacks and tachycardia. once, i was at 140 beats per minute after touching ephedra and whatever other drugs - i think i had also eaten chocolate at the time, and apparently, eating chocolate while touching transdermal ephedra residue causes extremely severe tachycardia. the drugs interact with each other.

('residue' is the new jargon. it's very useful. i was thinking and thinking, wondering about a word that i could use besides just 'chemicals' or 'contamination,' but oftentimes, i can't recall words that are in my memory. it's like alzheimer's. i know the words, i recognize the words, but i can't recall them when i need them. i know what they mean when i hear them or read them, but i can't easily say those words in a sentence. 'residue' was one of those hard-to-remember words. 'the voices' recently mentioned that word to me, and i was like, 'yes! that's exactly the word i was looking for!' i really needed that word.)

anyway, whatever drugs and poisons are on dennis, it makes me unable to touch him, unable to go to his house, and also, it makes HIM act a certain way, which i now recognize and have seen other people doing besides him. it is a slow movement with a zombielike stare and emotional numbness along with a sort of 'stupidity,' even though dennis is actually quite intelligent. i know that he is, because we've had a lot of conversations, and he knows about computers and stuff - he's not really 'stupid,' but the poison contamination affects his whole behavior so much, it seems like he is. i myself have experienced drugs and poisons that made me become 'slow and stupid,' and i hate those drugs whenever i encounter them. and i know that i myself am also not actually 'stupid,' but when i'm on drugs, i am.

so i wrote him a letter telling him about this problem. i had wanted to write that letter for a while now, but dennis is no longer connected to the internet, so i can't email him anymore. i had to write a letter by hand, because i can't use my printer - there are so many technical problems with my printer, and i use it so rarely, that it's very low priority to fix it. so i wrote the note by hand, photocopied it, and mailed it. (i like to keep a copy of notes that i write. sometimes, i need to know later on what exactly were the crazy things i said to somebody whenever i was affected by drugs or in a strange mood or being controlled by 'them.')

i thought of martin several times in the last few days, but i can't ever know for sure if i'm thinking of him on my own, or if somebody is forcing me to think about him. whenever i drive into the parking lot at work, i still automatically look for his car there, and feel disappointed when it's not there, even though i know he isn't working there anymore (he was fired or 'let go.' i don't know why.) it is contradictory that i would always hope to see his car, but be terrified to see him or talk to him, and have anxiety and stress when he was there - although a lot of that was caused by drugs that altered and intensified my emotions, along with 'them' doing things to me and forcing me to obsess about him. this is something i wish i could explain to him.

i don't send him emails because i can't know whether he receives ALL of my emails, or only some of them. he doesn't reliably answer - he has only answered a few emails, occasionally, intermittently, and i can't even prove that those responses were written by him - my hacking-related experiences have made me paranoid about anything that is sent over the internet, and my electronic mind control experiences have made me wonder whether martin (or anybody) could be controlled and forced to say things, which they won't remember later on ('dissociative identity disorder' caused by electronic attacks).

so for whatever reason, i was thinking of him the last few days. and now i usually try to write blogs instead of emailing him. the last time i emailed him, i got a reply where he was threatening to call the police. wouldn't it be nice if i could call the police to stop the people who are forcing me to obsess about somebody who's trying to avoid me? wouldn't it be nice if i could find out the location that they're 'shooting' at me from, using whatever technology they are using, to put fake thoughts into my head all day long, and then somebody could go and catch them in the act, and put them in jail?

trying to be clever, they gave me a dream about him last night, which contained something that i could tell was supposed to be a symbol, but i am not going to explain it. he had accidentally left 'clean socks' at somebody's house that he visited, and i found them and was going to give them back to him. they were yellow and white striped socks inside of a little bag with some other clothes in it. there was a lot of other stuff that happened in the dream, and again, i recognize the symbols that they are doing.

it seems funny now because of the mood that i am in, but in reality, a lot of times those kinds of dreams make me very, very angry. they make me angry whenever they are referring to ME. if they are talking about somebody else, it sometimes seems funny or cute. but when they are doing symbols about ME, it is always experienced as insulting, degrading, disgusting, and something that makes me very, very angry. angry enough to call them 'murderers' and to wish that some vigilante would go 'take care of the problem' because the police and the courts and the law and the government REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE that electronic mind control is real, that criminals are doing it every day to innocent, ordinary people for entertainment purposes, that the victims cannot avoid it or 'opt out' of it, and that it is 'soul murder' - murder, even though your body continues to survive, even though your personality sort of survives - it is the murder of the hours of your life, which cannot be redone. those hours pass and whenever they change you, whenever they change your thoughts and feelings, whenever they change your sensations and actions, you cannot go back in time to redo those hours - those hours of your life are permanently gone, which is a type of murder. those hours are permanently destroyed forever. who you are, what you would have done, what you would have thought about - it is permanently gone, even though you still seem to be alive. it is a form of murder, but not the usual type of murder that most people would understand.

and they argue to me, 'but you weren't thinking about anything IMPORTANT! you were just washing dishes (or doing something else that was boring).' they argue that since i wasn't really USING my mind to do much of anything, then nothing was really lost or destroyed - in fact, i'm 'better off' because they 'entertained' me by filling my mind with constant, neverending music, thoughts, feelings, conversations, and voices, during any silent activity such as washing dishes while i'm at work (which is the activity i do where they give me the most obvious, noticeable obsessions and mental conversations - during something boring that doesn't require much thought).

my reply is something they wouldn't understand. i already know they don't understand, because if they did, they wouldn't be doing the things they do. if they understood this, they would NEVER attack people or force them to be 'better off' than they otherwise would have been. i can only try to explain this using a sort of eastern meditative religion concept, and i can't explain it any other way.

those hours of silence, those hours of boredom, when it seems as though your mind would have been empty, 'doing nothing,' are actually IMPORTANT to your life, important to who you are, important to your life experience, even though that might seem like a boring and unfulfilling time period. those hours of boredom are important to who you are. you choose to endure and live through those hours, and they give you important information. they give you the truth. they give you reality. they tell you important things, such as 'i hate my job and i don't want to work here. i'd rather be someplace else.' so whenever you experience that fact, when you deeply experience it through all of your body and your mind and all of yourself, then you know it, and you can act on it. only when you deeply experience the truth, are you able to take action to fix it. if you don't experience it deeply, if your experience is shallow and superficial, if it is all just 'verbal' instead of physical, then you cannot integrate the truth, whatever that truth is.

they think that THEY know what i ought to be doing, and what's best for me. maybe i WOULDN'T decide that washing dishes was too boring. in fact, i might even ENJOY washing the dishes at work. i might not mind it that much, and i might not mind the silence.

(i had a moment the other day when the HORRIBLE MUZAK was temporarily silenced because there was an advertisement that had a low volume level, so i could no longer hear the intercom in the location where i was, and whenever the horrible muzak was silenced, i felt peace and great relief. muzak is evil. this is not a joke. muzak is the essence of everything that 'they' do and believe. they believe that there is something wrong with peaceful silence and emptiness. they must fill your head with 'something' at all times, constantly, otherwise they think you'll be 'bored.' that is not a natural way of life, and no, it ISN'T the 'enneagram type seven,' either. whenever people get the urge to constantly fill their heads with muzak, it is because they are forced to do it. i have experienced this. they force me to hear AWFUL MUSIC in my head all day long, and there's only one way to stop the awful music: by turning on the stereo and playing GOOD MUSIC to silence out the AWFUL MUSIC that they are forcing me to hear. so i play the stereo while driving my car, when otherwise i probably would not. this is a modern, technological problem which is caused by the murderers and the mind control system. it is not a naturally occurring problem and it has nothing to do with your personality type, even though the enneagram descriptions talk about the type seven as somebody who always needs to hear music constantly.)

when i first became aware of the murderers' attacks, in about 2003, the first thing that they did was destroy my sleep and my dreams and all periods of mental silence, including my attempts to meditate. they told me that my mind was 'doing nothing' during those times, and therefore, it was okay - perhaps even beneficial! - for them to use my brain for some other activity instead of silence. they told me it was harmless and would have no effect on me, because the brain isn't really 'doing anything' and therefore doesn't need to have silence.

silence is a NEED. silence is the truth. silence is reality. silence is part of who you are.

and i don't mean that it absolutely has to be perfect silence all of the time, with no thoughts at all. i have to mention that, because in the past, whenever i have complained about 'the need for silence,' the murderers responded by using some kind of attack on my brain, which forced me to feel like i was dead - it forced my brain to become totally silent and to be physically unable to think thoughts, for a few seconds, and they gave me a communication saying, 'is THIS what you what?', knowing full well that that wasn't what i meant at all, and had no resemblance to it. that isn't what i am referring to whenever i describe silence. i don't mean 'a forced total inability to think or feel anything.' i DON'T mean living death.

i simply mean that the brain and the body knows what it needs to do, and it does it, by itself, and it must be left to do its own thing, instead of being forced to do 'something else' by an external murderer. yes, i am calling them murderers. i insist on using that term, even though they fight against me every time i use that word. sure, my body is still alive! i'm typing this on my computer right now! but my whole life is changed! i'm not who i am! i'm not myself! i'm not doing what i would have been doing! i'm in a different place, talking to different people, doing different activities than i otherwise would have been doing, BECAUSE OF THEM! it is the murder of my 'life path,' the history of what i did, the history of all my actions taken, the history of every thought i thought and feeling i felt. my life path is changed because of them, and that is a form of murder. it is murder of the true self, the murder of free will. it is a murder of something, even though my body is still alive.

they think that their intervention 'makes things better' than they otherwise would have been, and therefore it's worthwhile, even though the victims complain, the victims are not happy, the victims don't like it, the victims want to be themselves instead of being 'improved' by the external control that fills their 'empty' heads with constant thinking and constant muzak.

i have to get ready for work now.