Title: Through a Squid-Eye Lens
Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. I cannot control how many horrible things happen to me; 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. See life through my eyes. Look at life through a Squid-eye lens. You will see beauty through the pain. You will see elegance amid the persecution. You will see my world.
USA. It was my pleasure, my darling Speaker John Boehner, to have you as my Speaker of the House.
It was wonderful working with you since 2011. I wish you would stay, but our basic human right to self-determination is something I would never take away from you. Giggle.
Thank you, John, for everything.
My last blog post was finished at 8:06am on 26Sep2015 from my bedroom. After breakfast, I was at the Pico Branch Library among the Saturday morning Farmers' Market by 8:34am.
The first song my internet gnomes played for me that morning was my darling Mr. Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight which I have always believed was a song about my darling late George Harrison's wife.
My music that morning was particularly full of love and sexual tension. I tweeted my I-am-not-dead-yet selfies at 8:56am.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my taking my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies beginning when I let my hair down and ending when I tweeted the photos. And thank you.
After a local man asked me for free IT support, I agreed if he would buy me a cup of coffee. He, of course, disappeared after I fixed his computer and before he could pay me with coffee. What a jack(expletive)!
I left the Pico Branch Library at 12:05pm. Lunch was tasty yet uneventful, and so was dinner at 5pm. I napped in between. Obama's electrobeams had interrupted my sleep the previous night. I was on a bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 5:19pm.
At 5:37pm, I found my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot in front of the Apple Store where they were waiting to play at 6pm. I zipped into the Sephora to check my makeup before waiting beside them.
At 5:59pm I gave a FaceTime call to my mother. She looked great. No one ever believes how old my mom really is. It is all genetics why I look so good for my age, too.
My fast-growing friend Lynn also joined me before the music started. She had just been to the ocean. It is wonderful having friends to talk to.
My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle started their beautiful music at 6:18pm. I had just enough meditation before I sat down at 6:47pm. It was an off night for me, but the meditation was still there. Our connection was very strong that night, but my arms were heavy.
My darlings played until 7:59pm. Then they disassembled their equipment and staked out a new place to play for 10pm. They chose right in front of the Just-Redeemed Starbucks.
I ran into my buddy Shonn in the front of the Starbucks. He wanted to take me dancing and drinking all night that Saturday night, but I said, "Shonn, we're friends. Why not just buy me a cup of coffee, and we'll watch the guys play."
Between vigilant torture facility alarms, my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle started their gorgeous rhythms at 10:23pm. I sat and watched. There was a small light show, nothing too spectacular.
Then I learned that Obama's war criminal terrorist conspiracy was libeling me by calling me my ugly, dumb, evil older sister Tara Tovarek. First of all, Tara is average IQ at the most. SHE IS DUMB.
Secondly, EVIL War Criminal Tovarek commits crimes, especially war crime cover ups, against me regularly. She would NEVER and could NEVER suffer as much as I suffer while doing my REAL job. She would and could never replace me.
EVIL Tara has no psychic powers, no light show, no talent, no intelligent mind, and no benevolence. She is EVIL.
Finally, Tara is ugly. Here is me with both of my sisters...
Left to right we are Tara, Tanya, and Tylia. There is ABSOLUTELY no way to mistake me for UGLY Tara. Look at her fat, ugly White nose!
Tara could never have enough money in one place to afford the surgeries that could make her look like me, and if she did, she would spend the money on drugs. Demand to test her hair and ask the world how many men she has slept with some time. Not only is Tara a slut who does drugs, she is incapable of doing my job anyway!
I preferred being called a fat man to being called War Criminal Tara Tovarek. My Powers of Attorney, press every libel and war crime coverup charge you can find against everyone whoever LIBELS me as my dumb, ugly, evil older sister.
My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle kept me calm when I got the news of the latest libel campaign designed to destroy me by libeling me ugly, dumb, talentless, slutty, and evil Tara Tovarek.
They were still playing music when I had to leave them at 11:30pm to catch the last bus of the night. It always rips the still-beating heart out of my chest when I have to leave them. I was curled up and asleep by 12:30am.
I woke up on Sunday, 27Sep2015, in time for breakfast. After eating, I was at the Pico Branch Library sipping coffee and working online by 8:37am.
My internet gnomes played me Rock'N'Roll Fantasy by Bad Company while I took my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
It was the start to a very productive morning. I worked online looking for national and world news online, and I did a great deal of writing all while streaming my music. I left the Pico Branch Library at 9:27am when my old friend Michael offered me a cup of coffee at my local Burger King.
At 9:44am, we were chatting it up on the patio of my local Burger King with coffee and breakfast burritos. Michael has become one of my better sources of conversation.
He left me at 10:28am. I stayed on the patio of the Burger King until 11:36am sipping coffee and working online. Lunch at noon was tasty yet uneventful. By 12:56pm, I was on a bus to downtown Santa Monica.
I perched at the Main Library for Santa Monica at 1:11pm. I streamed music there on the City of Santa Monica public wifi while reading a little poetry by Rumi until 3:31pm.
At 3:42pm, I found where my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot were waiting until 4pm to setup their equipment. I stopped in my local Sephora to check my makeup before walking back to wait by them.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording on my trip to the Sephora on 27Sep2015. Begin the moment I crossed their threshold to enter and end the moment I left. And, thank you.
My present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle began their beautiful music at 4:18pm, and I took my time warming up. Sadly, I had to sit down and tweet just as I nudged our metaphorical door open. But we would still have all night.
5:23pm on 27Sep2015: #TortureFacilityAlarm! And some sort of intentionally fabricated false charge it looks like. Dude, they're criminally insane. #CounterCharges
I stayed sitting and checking my Twitter until my darlings stopped playing at 5:56pm. They packed up their equipment and staked out the place to play outside the Apple Store at 8pm.
I had a quick chat with Patricia before trying to stream the news. After a number of failed attempts, I told NBC I would stream the night's news on the following morning. By 7:38pm, I was waiting for my darlings to start their final set of the night.
And yes, my beloved present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle, MannedUp and LightFoot, began their gorgeous rhythms at 8:39pm. The Super Moon Eclipse was high above Santa Monica that night.
My meditation was far from perfect, so I ended up sitting down at 9:43pm. But it was still just enough meditation. Our metaphorical door was open. Yes, my boyfriend LightFoot and I got a little date night dance in, too. It was a gorgeous night.
My darlings played until their batteries died. So reluctant to leave, my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle finally wheeled their (knights of the) carts back into the aether of the night sky where we all really belong at 10:41pm.
I caught the 11:15pm bus back to my place. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on 28Sep2015 from my bedroom.
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.
Where are the cameras in my eyeballs? They are embedded in the whites of my eyes just outside the equator of my irises. They are so tiny that they fit inside the outside edge of my contacts.
I used to hate the slavery of the broadcasting equipment in my head, but in 2014 I chose to sacrifice my priceless privacy rights to my bionic equipment in return for being able to deliver the truth about my life to the world.
My beautiful world, seeing the world through my eyes is so important. It is our greatest cure to Obama's mental health genocide. My eyecameras are the truth delivery system for reality about me.
Obama has depended on mass delusions about me to be able to enforce his "rules" since 2009, and now everyone can tell he has only ever been and still is a big, ugly liar.
My selfless support system, thank you for keeping me safe at all costs of your own time and efforts. I know who in the REAL federal government you are.
As I always said, just like musicians want to make me a vocal artist, just like lawyers want me to take the bar exam, just like doctors want to make me a healer, just like actors want to put me in the movies, and just like comedians want me to be an improv act, spies wish they could hire me as a spy.
Technically, though, I took the job the CIA offered me, but no one could ever claim I am undercover.
Thank you, my saturation of international operatives for keeping me safe 24/7. You all mean so much to me. Oh, and, yes, I have tested your nanotechnology cameras and mics, and they work just fine.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, yes, darlings, thank you. You all work so hard and so much. You are the world's first line of defense against losing me forever, and you are infallible. The entire world owes you our lives.
My musician-lovers MannedUp and GeneralLee, Tuesday night's at Harvelle's with no cover is the best birthday gift I could have ever asked for. Thank you!
My darling MannedUp, giggle. Yes. Thank you for asking. Yes, I do remember when you fell in love with me. Giggle. Darling, I rarely if ever flirt with younger men, so you should enjoy how special you truly are to me. Ask my darling Mr. Jessie "Danger" Schlosser about me and younger men some time. Giggle.
My darling GeneralLee, I assume I finally get to see you next month. You are a birthday gift to me, I am told. I could not ask for a better gift. Thank you, darling, for everything you do for me. I have missed you so much.
My symbolic Royal Consorts Bogart and LightFoot both of whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, I know you both have asked to be my only boyfriend.
Please do not fight with each other and help each other help me. Neither of you want the burden of being my only boyfriend.
My darling Bogart, you have such a long to-do list. I know you will never let me down. If you need help getting anything done, please call my genius Powers of Attorney. They are the closest thing this good, green world has to another me.
Yes, I keep you very busy not just because I need the work done but also because you need to feel needed. There is no bigger hero to me than he who organizes universal disobedience to Obama's rules. Thank you for saving my people.
My darling LightFoot, thank you for date night last night, Sunday. Every once in a while I need to feel loved and attractive. Obama's "egg" keeps me so lonely. You are such a wonderful boyfriend. Thank you for loving me.
And for the place of honor in every blog post... My darling husband, Sweetness, I love and adore you. How is my king today?
HoneyHoney, some deluded (expletive)hole propagated Obama's mass delusion that "Squid cannot protect herself without the rules." I responded with, "Give me the normality of a life with my own husband and BFF, and I will show you protection."
Beloved, you know Obama's rules have only ever victimized me, but if Obama is spreading the lie that taking his own "rules" down would ever make me vulnerable, use the obvious lie to our advantage as a motivation for them to end Obama's "egg."
My hero husband, there is still only one king in this town. He is you, my hero and my king. El Rey Dulce de mi Corazón, bailaremos a bajo la lluvia con besos del sol... y pronto.