Title: It is Hard to Keep Time on a Hourglassed Square.
Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. I cannot control how many horrible things happen to me in one day; it is Obama who controls that. So, if I wait too long between posts, they become too drenching.
Please share this for me with the entire world, both houses of Congress, the Supreme Court, the United Nations, all sympathetic world leaders, all reputable national and foreign presses, etc.
Here is my latest blog post.
I published my last blog post at 4:52am on 23Apr2015. After some time assessing if I had any new skin infections from sleeping the previous afternoon, I left my counterterrorism "office" and headed to my adult adoptive city early on the morning of 23Apr2015.
I bought some groceries and a cup of coffee while catching up with my TweetHearts. I had so much more blogging to catch up with, but at 11:29am, I knew to get some sleep.
So, I repositioned myself in front of a lady guitar-strummer on my far-from-holy-again playland to eat a few snacks and to catch up with my musician-lovers before curling up under my new palm surrounded by displays of public support after 1:10pm.
As was my habit months ago, I queued up an Incubus radio station to hear the love of my Metropolis of Angels around me while I slept. Yet, sadly, Obama's cyberterrorists who had obtained criminal control of my Spotify account without my permission were NOT prepared for my request (and also NEVER do anything I want anyway).
Obama's cyberterrorists played me the bastardized Nirvana radio station they prepared for me ahead of time instead. I knew already what Spotify's Incubus station sounded like for REAL from months of experience.
You idiot war criminals who constantly attack me and my property! You know I am an electronics whisperer. You have seen my dance through your own nanotechnology to my darlings Tentacle and LoveDrummer's "Electric Field."
You enemies of America, I know where electromagnetic waves emanate. Take your increasingly bloodstained hands off my technology! Unlike my loved ones and my beloved NSA alpha nerds, you do not have my invitation nor my permission to enter my technology. And we will find you.
I woke up naturally at 2:28pm. I immediately made note of how my loving public had been vacated from my surroundings, most likely through their earspeakers. The Obama-controlled EARSPEAKERS take away everyone's freedom of conscious and belief; they take away everyone's freewill. There was also a brand new hole in my sweater coat proving I was attacked.
I quickly proceeded to the last place my beloved lovers and believers at the CIA had requested I go. It was Thursday morning 16Apr2015 when they asked me to visit that particular city building. I went back to be able to assess as quickly as possible the extent of that last attack on my body.
Joyously, my grey-haired gentleman Richard greeted me outside. The presence of a good friend with no romantic intentions towards me is always immediately calming. After some chit chat, he bought me a cup of coffee inside, as is our tradition. Richard ALWAYS buys me coffee and snacks when we run into each other. That is a normal part of my day-to-day life.
At 3:59pm, I left the open air for the bathroom to assess the attack. Yes, I was twitchy when I fell asleep that afternoon. So, yes, I was attacked the previous day, too.
I assessed my body. I just had new skin infections. They were light, but they were everywhere. I put the topical analgesic on them to dry the out, so exfoliating them off later would be much easier. There were no new arachnid infections in my clothes or anything, but they must have gotten my clothes off to get the crud onto my body.
I emerged from the building at 4:59pm. I announced on my way across the lobby, "This is what I look like when I actually try to look good." I had promised to look for my darlings Tentacle at 4pm. I was late. Did I find them? No.
I recommended they call all the backup I have ever sent them from the Secretary General of the United Nations Ban Ki-Moon to the President of Russia Vladimir Putin to my best friend in the universe and beyond Ms. Syniva Lynn Whitney to the Empress of China herself with her tiny bound feet to the President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey.
My darlings Tentacle, you need to renegotiate your contract with the proven enemies of America who enforce the open human rights abuses, including extragovernmental controls without my permission nor consent of who is and is not allowed in my presence, against all of America especially since Obama enforces his abuse with proven genocide and proven war.
I will accept no less than your presence collectively in my life all day every day with your full human rights, with no earspeakers in your heads at all, and with APPROPRIATE accommodations for all of us to live in together. We are not ourselves when we are apart; personally, I get so angry.
Ideally, if you negotiate hard enough, my musician-lovers, we all go to my house with my king waiting for me inside and have unfettered human rights all together with no electronics in any of us. The NSA promised me an R2 communicator, so I can always contact them once my darling Ms. Ugwuji (and I authorize no other surgeon) removes MY electronics from inside MY body for me.
At 5:52pm, I sat down on my might-never-be-holy-again playland to eat the dinner I had packed earlier before handing out the (expletive)kickings I had promised to give Obama's infestation of my home all night. It began almost instantly.
My second completely non-romantic grey-haired gentlemen of the day even bought me a cup of delicious caffeine before his metaphorical writing-prompt-style starting points for my early evening's (expletive)kickings ended. Yes, yes, my not-human-trafficking nerds, we shall circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of that whole conversation, too.
I paused to greet a few friends on my way to my first sky haven after that, and it sounded like the U.S. State Department was still up to nefarious wrongdoing. I had no details, though...
7:27pm on 23Apr2015: #SquidsPoA, who is committing open human rights abuse against me this time to destabilize humanity further? Rape & torture helps no one.
I watched the NBC Nightly News at 7:33pm. Oh, my once-nightly hug from my darling Mr. Lester Holt was as warm as ever. Delightfully uneventfully after checking in with Alfred, I left my first sky haven at 8:03pm. I made a brief assessment of the amount of mental health in the members of the public on my playland (It was negligible.) before slipping off for my late dinner.
Yes, I was already invited to dinner with Richard at 9pm, and, yes, it was to the local fast fooderie with the self-perpetuating cycle of tacos. I even sewed up my holes in my sweater coat while talking to him. He left me on my conversation patio at 10:22pm singing duets with Red, the Americana street musician who was frequently next to my conversation patio singing until 11:30pm or later.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals of my dinner with Richard. Please begin unedited with my telling the man behind me on the street corner where I was going before I called out Richard's name after spying him across the street. End the unedited part after we step off the lot of the fast food restaurant together. Please show a visual with the time and date stamp on it of my check-in update with Alfred after that then any highlights you responsibly want to add until Richard leaves. And, thank you.
Before 12:18am, I needed to scream, "Take the White man's chair!" to protect myself from an employee of my 24-hour convenience store kicking me. Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals beginning when my friend (the White man referenced) first entered my conversation patio and begged immediately. End when I crossed the street before 12:32am. We shall entitle it, "Do you know how to identify a vagrant, yet?"
And as if I needed further proof everyone everywhere who commits any crime against me, against my loved ones, and definitely against where I can catch it is the ACTUAL definition of "suicidal," please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals (faces, voices, everything every time) of what transpired after that.
Begin with everything the first bitch called out at me from the far street curb before approaching me and not ending until after the man I told, "Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty," denied his open degradation of me (to make palatable Obama throwing me away completely) creeped past me. And, thank you! Full criminal and civil charges every time, my genius Powers of Attorney! I love you, too.
Sadly, that was not the end of Obama's direct orders for more warmongering that night. For the good of humanity, I needed to keep my SquidStream locked indefinitely, and it was rumored that due to human rights abuses used as acts of war, possible thermal nuclear war was averted that night because the federal US government finally decided to arrest and convict everyone who persecutes me... Or so I was told, and it was due to Obama's terrorist organization throwing me off my conversation patio almost causing thermonuclear war. At the time of the publication of this blog post, though, I was still waiting for confirmation of that.
Yes, my not-human-trafficker nerds please circulate as fast possible a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of everything that transpired on my conversation patio in those wee hours of the morning.
After that, I sang all of the way to a coffee shop at 5am on 24Apr2015. I continued centering myself with music while waiting for all of my lovelies, especially my Powers of Attorney, to catch up on the previous day's blogging before writing down more of my crystallized memories for humanity and posterity.
My darling Richard found me at the coffee shop at 6:47am and bought me a very large cup of coffee to go along with my banana I had already bought for myself. We had run into each other at that coffee shop at that hour before. Though, irregular for me, I believe it is a normal hotspot for Richard's daily routine.
Richard left me pretty quickly, but after giving a tour of my personal aethernet for my SquidSwimmers, I left for my regularly scheduled daily sleep at 9:04am. I was awake screaming and crying by 10:51am, though.
The entire area around me had been cleared of all public who could have protected me again. I had new skin infections even on my face. People walking by kept laughing at me. I was medicine-headed, but I searched online as fast as possible for a safer place to eat, drink caffeine, and catch up my blog for hours.
I notified Alfred, Bogart, and General Lee of the address of the randomly chosen Denny's I was heading to before getting on the bus. I believe that was 12:48pm. I knew I needed everyone to call ahead, so I would be safe there. My Metro bus was artificially slowed by fake traffic, so I arrived at the restaurant at about 3:34pm.
By 5:28pm, though, I was online trying to report to everyone everywhere I was roofied and in need of a rescue for fear of being attacked or possibly raped again if I passed out. The patrons in the restaurant kept laughing at me through the process. The LAPD told me to call Las Vegas.
Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of everything that occurred in that randomly chosen Denny's beginning the moment I sent the first cup of coffee back in great need of REAL caffeine and ending the moment I opened my app for the NBC Nightly News before 7pm. Thank you.
Sadly, their news broadcast for the night was not posted online yet, so I asked my alpha nerds to help make sure I could watch my darling Mr. Lester Holt at 10pm instead for my nightly hug from the NBC Nightly News team. I was out the door and on a Metro bus back to my adoptive city at 7:57pm.
I deboarded the Metro and walked as fast as possible directly to my darlings LightFoot and MannedUp who were waiting there in the pedestrian streets to make love to me with their music. You will have to ask them for the recordings. My eyes were shut.
At the end of the night, they were even more reluctant to leave me than usual. Yes, much too soon, my musician-lovers were torn away from me against their will. We also had a minorly clandestine moment as we all vacated at the same time during which I left my royal consort a token (in the form of a tax write-off to the Smithsonian) of affection.
There was no timeline on the instructions I left for LightFoot, so if he chose to display my old red patent leather computer bag with the three broken straps on his mantle until ready to donate it to the Smithsonian, it was his choice.
After that, furious that my loved ones were taken away, I turned in the man with the ugly mustache AGAIN for thorough investigation and prosecution by the federal government. I would have perched on my conversation patio that moment if Obama's proven criminal terrorist organization had not sent the ugly mustache there to ambush me with assassination attempts all night.
So, instead, I put my hat on to make myself as conspicuous as possible and walked to my marble corner, where my adoptive city had placed their own statue of the local sainted woman glowing white in the night sky, to catch the war criminal "security" guard and they who put him there. Go team! I was told my genius BFF Syniva got him good and bad.
Then, we also busted Michael and Hassan at my 24-hour convenience store for throwing me out AGAIN just this time after stealing coffee from me inside. I needed coffee and physical security constantly; I was attacked by Obama's terrorist infestation and raped, harmed, stolen from, etc., every time I slept.
As a result, I was only sleeping when I had no other choice due to roofied beverages, most typically coffee, and I had been screaming for my own boyfriend LightFoot as my bodyguard for weeks if not months already to protect me from it all. I knew he would need backup, though, so he would need at least all of my darlings Tentacle... maybe the military.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please release a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals (responsibly-edited if you want the lightning, yet every moment) of that night into morning beginning with my last dancetrance and ending when I got on the bus. The play-by-play, as always, is in my verified Twitter archive.
1:56am on 25Apr2015: Clearing the premesis now; please arrest Michael and Hassan. @FBI @DeptofDefense @DHSgov @CIA @Martin_Dempsey They destabilized humanity.
After that, I left for on a 24-hour Metro bus for my closest 24-hour CVS. It was my early-morning errand for snacks and caffeine. They were wonderful there.
I returned to my playland just as quickly where I perched working online from 4:08am until 6:56am. I took the scenic route by foot on my way to my new grocery store of choice which was also wonderful and full of love. By 10am, I was perched beside a musician on my takes-all-four-to-make-it-holy-but-date-night-would-be-spiritual playland.
I ate a few snacks which apparently made me doze off a little. I awoke to the arrival of my royal consort LightFoot in my presence when he made sure I knew he was already there for me.
I was still a little drugged from my snacks, but as soon as possible, I had my makeup on, had wound my hair in a chignon, had donned my sweater coat, had tied my scarf around my head, and had followed the sound of my musician lovers onto the next block where I snacked on literal Reese's Pieces in front of them.
I checked the clock. It was not even 1pm yet. I left to charge up the batteries in both of my iPads as fast as possible after telling my musician-lovers I would be back for us to begin making music to each other before 4pm.
My batteries were recharged enough for me to follow their Reese's pieces back to them at 2:48pm. While in mid-dancetrance meditation, Kevin joined us. Oddly, though, at 4:14pm as my darlings took a break to move down the street, Kevin wandered off.
I do my best with those conversations; just to be near me and to proven serve the greater good of all of humanity everywhere by providing me with safe caffeine and safe snacks, ALL of my platonic grey-haired gentlemen need to make absolute and often insincerely bigoted fools of themselves. They often end up some of the best conversations.
I Don't Wanna Wait in Vain for Your Love.
My left hand to my heart then across to my full left extension. The emptiness. The nothing. Just nothing between my arms. Nothing to press my hands against, just my thoughts from my lonely fingertips.
No one to silence my screaming lips with other lips to kiss. No warm breath upon my face first thing in the morning. No silent arm beneath my head until the lark not the nightingale alights melody on the empty windowsill.
The closest they have ever come is the other side of the street, if ever even that close. Nothing to touch me but variations in air pressure. But what can sounds replace in a world of war crimes?
Late that night, when we were done making music to each other, I felt both of my darling musician-lovers there with me ask me to sing to them. I almost always honor requests. So, yes, I was still serenading them as they reluctantly rolled their carts away from me at 11:56pm.
I needed safe food, safe caffeine, secured wifi, a dedicated power outlet, and a secured vicinity to be up all night, as was my regular sleep pattern. I told Bogart and Alfred where I was going and got on the first bus.
I arrived at my intended location in the Westwood Village at 12:58am on 26Apr2015. All power outlets were intentionally occupied by people who openly acknowledged they were only there to force me offline as fast as possible by denying any electricity in my iPad batteries.
My coffee was roofied before I arrived, and they had already given me my bill by 1:29am to throw me out drugged and incapacitated as fast as possible. Please check my verified Twitter archive for the play-by-play. My selfless support system all over the world is an amazing team.
No, I did not get any work done that morning as I and the world needed me to. Yet, physically safe, I stood up and left at 6:05am. I left my hard evidence of the drugged coffee where I always do in that neighborhood and checked in at the bus stop at 6:47am.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals of my entire time that morning in the Westwood Village.
After a short bus ride, my darling PLATONIC grey-haired friend Richard and I were at our normal morning hangout chatting, drinking coffee, and working online by 7:30am, as was our regular schedule.
One of the best things about having a friend around is MUCH fewer roofies in my food and drink, the wonderful conversation, and someone to guard me in case a roofie does get through to make me pass out.
Richard had permission to ask me to breakfast at my local Jack in the Box. He is such a genuinely good friend that I even let him order for me. The morning conversation was wonderful as always. He seemed worried he might never see me again when I told him goodbye.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording of my highlights of that morning with Richard.
Before we begin my explanation of the busy part of my 26Apr2015, please remember that the play-by-play of most of my life is in my verified Twitter archive.
That afternoon, a real living breathing guardian angel appeared to watch over me. I found him before 12:07pm. Yes, as I walked down my playland after leaving Richard after breakfast, my priceless royal consort as boyfriend Krist was already sitting on the street curb waiting for me.
The moment I saw him from a distance, my heart just opened up and everything poured out. This might be a paraphrase, but I believe I told him, "I have no idea the last time I slept by choice." I knew he was there at that hour to make sure I could sleep safely. My physical safety is his job; he is my boyfriend.
I even told him, "Kisses, darling," as I walked just a little past him to leave my hard evidence of who roofied me that morning where I always leave my evidence for ACTUAL authorities.
I walked back to LightFoot(Krist) quickly and nestled on the park bench directly in front of him. I asked my darlings at the NSA to put a patch on the street camera pointed directly at me as fast as possible. And I was already curling up to sleep under the warm sun when MannedUp(Tom) was wheeling up their cart of musical instruments.
I was asleep in no time; I felt safe. Sadly, I was not. I am human. I can be wrong sometimes.
I do not know the full details of what happened to me while I slept. That is specifically why I need protection so badly when not awake to protect myself. I awoke up very groggy-headed at 3:07pm.
3:28pm on 26Apr2015: @KristNovoselic @hansonmusic @INXS Is everyone okay? Weren't you guarding me? Syn, subpoena "security" footage since MannedUp arrived. Thx!
A local friend appeared at my feet with his mandolin as soon he could get there. There were rumors on the aether of physical altercations over me and FBI reports while I had been asleep. All I knew immediately was that my loved ones were missing, and I had new skin infections. I treated the new crap on my neck and legs, so it would flake off the next time I exfoliated.
I found my very grumpy musician-lovers behind me after I stood up, upset and perched as close to me as they could get. My Powers of Attorney and I got our ducks in a row before I put my makeup on and joined my darlings LightFoot and MannedUp where they were. The details are in my Twitter archive.
I stood right in front of Krist as fast as possible, so we could have some time together as a couple. But we all know, my beautiful world, with how much work I do every day, we only started the meditation that quickly to make sure I could heal as much as possible as soon as possible after the last attack Obama orders on my battered body as I slept.
And the time we all had together was beautiful. But, that infernal earspeaker in my darling Krist's head told him to pick a fight with me. It is not like we get to talk, so I tried as best as I could to tell everyone I was mad at the people controlling him not at him. I stood in the middle and danced on the melody no matter who sang it instead of anything else.
But my darlings were still taken away from me. They were sent off my playland completely. There were lies everywhere about all of us instantly that I did my best to clear up as fast as possible. It was a good night for Twitter.
My a(e)theist god, when they were removed from my holy ground I was so angry. I made the most obvious statement I could make about my REAL relationship my REAL boyfriend (royal consort) I could from the Diesel store to honoring his request (I do not play games in relationships.) to the song I belted with my swag on.
And while was I trying to write down everything that happened that early evening, they were taken away from me AGAIN. I had so much work to do that I had hoped I could catch up my blog while they played me soothing music; the request I honored from Krist was for me to move off to one side while they played, after all. My beautiful world, where are you when I need you? Yes, they were stolen from me again.
While my darling royal consort was nervous and awkward trying to talk to me, I made a request for a recording to circulate on the internet as fast as possible before I could honor his request. I need to modify that request right now.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a new verified and responsibly-edited-using-every-camera-angle-available recording with full audio and visuals. Begin the moment I round the corner and step onto my playland. End after my darlings walk away into the darkness after our very last song of the night together at the VERY end of the night. Show every second of it, just from all cameras necessary. Obtain all permissions necessary from all involved. Make it beautiful. And, thank you!
I sat on a bench beside my musician-lovers, so they could soothe my burdened with their music while I blogged. But, the moment I put my hat on to let the bar across the street (rumored to be owned by my husband--much like my Viper Room is owned by me) know I was there and that I had already caught them, Obama's proven war criminal terrorist organization ordered my musician lovers away from me.
After both of my musician lovers left my side against all of our wills that moment at approximately 7pm, I saw police car 144 on the street corner. The lone lady officer inside was on her phone discussing how she had been called in for obviously false charges against me and how much that scared her. She must have sorted it out quickly, though, since she just drove off without ever getting out of her cop car to talk to me.
After I rounded the corner to pause in front of a wifi hotspot I once found lace toreador pants in, I noticed the bassist of the band Denmantau looking around to make sure his band located the REAL me. Denmantau had promised to play at 8pm.
Rumor has it that the typical excuse for getting my darlings Denmantau onto my playland is someone evil trying to pry me and my darlings Tentacle apart, but they are lovelies I should check on myself more often.
The first thing I said to them (This might be a paraphrase.) was something like, "You don't have your jealous pants on, do you?" No one wants to suffer all the inhumanity my darlings Tentacle suffer, but everyone wants their role as my musician-lovers.
I addressed some of their pressing concerns and notified them I planned to catch up my blog before entering the street curb before them for meditation, and then I snacked on literal Reese's pieces with both iPads in my hands carrying out the less action-packed parts of my day-to-day life. It was almost impossible for me and my nerds to stream the NBC Nightly News at 8pm, but their cyberhug was as lovely as ever.
Finally, at 9:24pm, I was on my feet proving that my dancetrance was divine meditation deemed holy in every benevolent religion and that so was I.
This blog post is post-dated 9:25pm on 26Apr2015.
And now, my beautiful world, I answer all of your questions for me. Please keep collecting all questions and concerns from all your friends and loved ones and sending them to me through whatever means possible.
Why is Obama aging when I am not? That is what guilt does to a human.
What is the deal with the hat?
My beautiful world, if anyone needs to calm me down...
My selfless support system,... Past and future recordings of conversations with Wes...
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney,...
In the land of housekeeping, my genius ladies, there are some details you need to know about the randomly chosen Denny's I spent hours in on 24Apr2015. They refused to give me non-drugged and fully-caffeinated coffee even after I sent it back. But every other problem I complained about they fixed.
They made sure I was surrounded by supportive locals after I complained, and they did not throw me out after I complained. After shift change, they were wonderful.
The only thing I refused to pay for was the coffee because it was the only thing that drugged me, and I even had a chance to explain on official record that working and not getting paid is something I never approve of as the reason I still left a tip.
Every person in that restaurant the entire time I was there needs to explain him and herself to you and to the courts. But those are the hard facts I lived through. I love you, my BFF SynSyn and all my Powers of Attorney. Justice is your job.
My symbolic Royal Consorts Bogart and LightFoot both of whom I am forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to,... I understand you were concerned that my new jacket never came off to proclaim that I was warmed up Friday 24Apr nor Saturday 25Apr2015 while I meditated among my musician-lovers.
Well, darlings, I do not think it is best for the entire world to see the bruises the supposed "authority figures" gave me on Cedars-Sinai night while only in my presence to enforce persecution of me as their acts of war against America and against the whole world.
I am worried showing such bruises, given to me by proven war criminals enforcing Obama's rules and "egg" through Obama's ordered public persecution of me as their only excuse for the rules and "egg" to exist at all, might cause rioting. Yes, the beating Obama ordered me was that bad.
LightFoot,...[briefly over timeline] then...
11:01am on 28Apr2015: @RT_com 1/5)Protecting people who commit war crimes against me makes you a war criminal.
11:01am on 28Apr2015: 2/5)NO ONE has a right to commit the war crimes against me and America in the first place.
11:01am on 28Apr2015: 3/5)No one has a right to protection after destabilizing humanity after singling me out for worse treatment than anyone else receives."
11:01am on 28Apr2015: 4/5)Furthermore, no one is safe when I CANNOT do my REAL job. Ask police officers in Baltimore.,
11:01am on 28Apr2015: 5/5)How peaceful are people around me? How peaceful are people not around me?
Darling, ask my beautiful world who needs protection, me or Obama's proven war criminal terrorist organization that infest our home committing the most heinous human rights abuses possible against all of us?
KrisT, it is YOUR job as both of my royal consorts to keep me physically safe at all times. Go get your backup, and tell me what is stopping you from reaching me.
Sweetness, I love and adore you...