I’m attracting trouble again

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This morning I was making my way to the station, when I think a guy threatened to punch me. It was very odd.

I was walking beside a main road, when I saw him coming towards me on my side of the pavement. He wasn’t big, but he was wiry, tense and with a look of utter rage and hatred, staring straight at me. At about fifteen feet away, he began punching at the air in front of him, all the while looking at me. I stepped to one side so that I wasn’t in his path, he stepped to the same side, still punching. I stopped, not sure what else to do. He kept coming, still punching, I didn’t move. Finally he stopped and stood in front of me, fists flailing in my direction, but not quite reaching. I stared at him trying to find an expression that didn’t look scared or aggressive, I probably just looked blank. Then with a jabbing finger he pointed to one side, presumably to suggest I walk around him. I did, waiting for him to thump me as I walked past, he didn’t and I caught the train. Too strange to deal with at seven in the morning.

At work we got guilted into using the new mess room.

‘We redecorated this for you all! Why aren’t you in it? Don’t you like it?’

So the smokers sat outside the new room on rocks (no benches here) and the rest of us sat inside on the most uncomfortable chairs in the world. They have some fancy new ergonomic design (remember they were acquired from another business that was throwing them out) and they slope downwards. So when you sit on one, you slowly slide off. The only way to stay on the chair is to constantly press your feet against the floor. This is fucking up my back. I’m going to pinch an old, battered wooden chair from one of the gardens and put that inside.

Word of the day: orey-eyed – expressing anger through the eyes

Life goes on…

‘You don’t understand!  I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I could’ve been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.’
– On The Waterfront

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Last night I dreamt that a man was staring in my window, he had huge eyes and quizzical look on his face. It’s the same as how people look at me in the street, an I’m sorry, but what are you? expression. I woke up feeling creeped out and couldn’t go back to bed until I’d had some crisps.

I’ve mentioned that management have promised us a new mess room at work. And today we finally moved away from our rat-infested grubby hole to the beautifully clean, sparkly white room. It’s filled with furniture that was discarded from local businesses, plus some fancy white cups and saucers that we aren’t allowed to use because they’re for guests.

There’s also a clock that connects to a satellite (apparently) and a hi-tech fridge that has an LCD display telling you the temperature. The chairs are clean, the floors are shiny, the walls are white.

The managers were everywhere asking us how much we liked our new space. We ran away and had break by the old rat-infested grubby hole. Clean and shiny is weird.

Word of the day: Aischrolatry – worship of filth, dirt, or smut

Illuminati mystery letter: analysing names

 

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Mystery catch up: this letter was found by my colleague lying in one of our gardens. It is from Jack who says he’s being tortured by the Illuminati using advanced technology to destroy his brain and body. He needs help. Is he schizophrenic? Is it a joke? Is it real?

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As I said before, I’ve blacked out names so as not to mess with anyone’s privacy. However I’ve spent the last two  days googling the names of those he claims are the current members of the ‘growing abuse network’ to see if I can find people that might fit. According to the letter, they’re mostly in London, except Oliver, who is in Bristol. I found a few people with the names, usually at least one living in the right city, but that isn’t such a stretch. Among them were a photographer, a chef, a man selling home made sandals and a journalist, I can imagine a few of these possibly being involved with an art project or even the Illuminati, but something about them is not quite right.

One name is rare and I could only find one website with it – a fitness trainer in London with an Instagram page. It just shows photo after photo of people training and the occasional plate of noodles, not an Illuminati symbol, secret handshake or odd photo among them.

What I find seriously puzzling is that I checked on each possible name in the right city with a Facebook page to see if they had any of the other names among their Friends. I could not find a single friend among them with Oliver name, Jack’s name or any of the others. And there are no friends in common that I could see (I kept thinking all these people had the same woman in their friends, but actually it was lots of different women with doggy filters and photoshop style blankness.)

It’s odd, because if this is real, Jack says these are all people he knows, so wouldn’t they know each other? Or Jack? Is this because they can cloak their true identities, as he suggests in a confusing manner here:

‘they may all hide most of their computers with their computer names spelling anonymous possibly through typing in numbers So their computers cannot be searched for.’

Whatever this letter is, if Jack doesn’t know these people, then who are they? Did he pick them at random? That seems both unwise and pointless.

I feel like I’m getting caught up in this now.

Final note: I was just doing another check on some of the names, and I’ve found Jack’s Facebook page! He has a couple of the names mentioned in the letter as Friends! I saw this page yesterday, but i don’t think his Friends list was accessible then. I’m going to publish this and then carry on investigating…

 

The Illuminati are torturing Jack!

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So after a night of no sleep, I collapsed in bed about 8.30pm. Slept fabulous and woke up feeling zingy and refreshed, thinking What a fantastic long sleep, now I’m ready for a new day, insomnia’s fixed! Then I looked at my phone and it was 9.30pm. Bugger.

Did the same thing at 10pm, and midnight. And which point I felt so zingy I couldn’t even try to sleep, so I got up and played Patience.  Finally slept until 5.30am and woke up feeling like I’d been crushed under a boulder.

Anyway, all this is irrelevant, you want to know about the letter..

Blanked letter top
Part 1
2nd blanked
Part 2

 

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Part 3
Blanked final
Part 4

There is one other record (I could find) of someone getting this letter in London, this year, which is pushing me towards the idea that this is an art project or game.

Above Top Secret

Tomorrow I will start investigating the different names (will they be untraceable? Is that what he means by ‘their computers cannot be searched for’?) If I can’t get anywhere with that, I’ll contact the email address on there, there’s also a phone number, is it wise to call it?

Right now I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, so it will all have to wait. Does any of it look familiar? Any theories? (I love your theories…)

Note: If it’s difficult to read, I can scan it in tomorrow, the photos were taken on the grass in the wind, which isn’t ideal.

 

Weird find! Send help!

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“This letter is posted as I need to find someone who can report what is written below into freemasonry/Illuminati and get it stopped.”

Today, we were working in the garden outside a posh boys’ club. When it came to break time, Pola (our Polish agency worker) held up a sheet of typewritten paper and declared she’d found it wedged in the railing and was confused.

‘Is it a letter? What are they talking about? It doesn’t make any sense.’

I had a read. It was a letter, more specifically a desperate cry out to the world, stating that:

“A person called Jack [full name removed] is getting abused and having his brain and body destroyed by a growing unofficial Illuminati abuse network. They have wired him with all the Big man and old abuse technology.”

‘It reads like a schizophrenic,’ I said, ‘although there’s a contact number and email, so maybe it’s a joke.’

‘Stay away from it!’ declared my boss, firmly. ‘It sounds like trouble, just throw it away.’

“O.C. has subtly abused Jack with the technology since he was really young controlling him and messing him up and making him seem like a bad person while blocking him from Freemasonry and lying about him.”

Pola was about to chuck it, but I asked if I could have it. My boss gave me a what-is-wrong-with-you? stare. But unusual things are important, aren’t they? That’s where the secrets and stories are.

“The person who has caused this and caused this to happen is a person called O.C. [full name removed] who is a psychopath.”

So that’s it for now. Tomorrow, I shall post up the letter, with the various names blacked out. Sorry this is short and unhelpful, I didn’t sleep at all last night and I don’t have the nuggets necessary to research stuff and organise myself. Tomorrow, I promise. Until then, if any of you have come across something like this, please let me know.

Return of the dream ghost

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“It is far more difficult to murder a phantom than a reality.”

Virginia Woolf

Word of the day: Alcherina – dream time

This afternoon I was playing the card game Shithead with Hamoudi and Jinjing. That game is known all over the world, turns out it’s even got a Wikipedia page. While we were playing (and I was winning, I want you to know) they started talking about their dreams again. About the sinister man who appeared in Jinjing’s dreams staring in through her window and then followed Hamoudi around the tube in real life. He is now ‘on the move.’

Rather than just being in her dreams, Jinjing has seen him in the street, on a roof and under her bed. Hamoudi saw him on the Central Line last night. While sitting in the bright kitchen playing cards and eating Bombay mix, they sounded to me like teenagers trying to scare each other with ghost stories. But now I’m back in my room sitting on my own and monsters from my own dreams have started scratching at the back of my memory. My dreams have been numerous and miserable recently, plagued with stress and sickness, but was there someone in them? A shadowy figure watching?

Nah, probably not. I suspect I’m just mixing it up with angry staring man from the train.

Angry Staring Man! The Encounter.

 

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‘There is a point at which you have to stop preparing to do something and just do it.’

Embrace the Soul Backwards – Emily Stardust

So after the success/not success of talking to fabulous woman yesterday (I got a nod!), I decided to try with angry staring man today. For anyone not keeping up (ie almost all of the world) angry staring man is the smart dressed man who sits on the train staring straight ahead. Since me and him were the only ones not looking at our phones or a book, I felt we had a connection. Since he looks like he’s involved in all sorts of dodgy corporate dealings, I have been curious about what I could learn from him. So today was the day.

So I sat opposite  him, trying to keep the expectant look off my face. Would he tell me about the secret shenaninagans going on at Bohemian Grove? Or the dirty deals between politicians and arms dealers? Would he explain where the tunnels lead underneath International banks?

My excitement lasted a happy moment as I looked across at him, prepared to demand his attention, and then…the happy moment wrinkled into one of sickness.

He stank! You know that sickly perfume they pump out in public toilets? Angry staring man smelt like somebody had poured a bucket of that over him. Or like that gross perfume they put on sanitary products for some twisted reason. I didn’t start a conversation, I was too busy trying not to breathe. And I don’t believe that anyone who  goes to Bohemian Grove would smell that bad.

Word of the day: Graveolent – rank-smelling; fetid

Boy meets tiger

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A fabulous tiger lived in an oak
The more she saw the less she spoke
The less she spoke the more she heard
Why can’t we all be like that wise old bird?

Word of the day: zoanthropy – delusion that one is an animal

Somebody brought a small hyperactive boy onto this morning’s train. Now I know it can be unavoidable, and I felt sorry for the poor mum who looked worn ragged beyond sense, but a kid on the morning train is never a good idea. Everybody is grumpy, groggy and quiet as commuters try to cope with the start of a new day. Just think of the bad karma this kid is building up to work off later in life, all those angry thoughts heading in his direction as he squeals and thumps the seats. No child can properly understand how rush hour trains are, and this excitable boy was simply confused why no one wanted to play. He’d run up and down the aisle trying to start conversations, until finally he spotted fabulous woman. She was sitting opposite me, attention on her phone.

Today, along with the orange striped hair and claw rings, she was wearing orange eye shadow a stripy t-shirt. She looked especially fabulous. Excitable boy stopped and stared for a bit, then said,

‘Are you pretending to be a tiger?’

Fabulous woman gave him an intense glare, one that must have cut right through his hyperactivity and into his soul, and said,

‘No. I AM a tiger.’

Excitable boy slunk back to his seat and stayed quiet for the rest of the journey, occasionally looking over to where she sat. Not fearful, but in awe.

I waved my head about like a snake trying to catch her eye. Eventually she looked over and nodded. Then she stared out the window for the rest of the journey, constantly ready in case another desperate situation called for a tiger.

Betrayed! No nomophiliac!

 

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“I find people confusing.”

― Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Word of the day: Bionomics – study of organisms interacting in their environments

Ok, so today I was going to do it, I was going to talk to angry staring man. I spent the walk to the station psyching myself up, I had a shortlist of possible opening gambits. I was ready. But as I walked down the aisle, I saw him sitting bold as brass and looking at his phone!

He must have known that was a betrayal, we don’t look at our phones! That’s what everyone else does, but we’re the nomophiliacs! We’re different! But was looking at the screen very seriously, as if he was getting some news of a corporate takeover of the mafia. Or plans to replace the Queen with a clone. Definitely something with huge repercussions for society. So can I forgive him?

You may be thinking, If angry staring man is so important, why is he taking the train, wouldn’t he have a chauffeured car? But that’s because you’re wrong and don’t understand the ways of angry staring man.

Anyway, so I went and sat opposite fabulous woman. I tried to catch her eye again, but she had a careful not-catching-eye demeanour. Maybe she is a celebrity and she’s sick of plebs trying to talk to her. Maybe she’s a superhero and is worried if she gets distracted by petty conversations she won’t be ready for when the villain tries to flip the train into another dimension. There is a black stripe in the middle of her orange striped hair now. Tiger!

I haven’t given up yet, but I’m not good at this.

Bigger than you might think

 

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People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone

People are Strange  – The Doors

Phrase of the day: el semaforo de medianoche (Venezuelan Spanish) a pushover, literally ‘a traffic light at midnight’

Today a set of traffic lights was found lying in the road on the estate at my work. Weirdly there was no obvious place in the street missing a traffic light and it didn’t look like sabotage. We tried to work out where it came from using the No right turn and Park closed features, but there were too many options and we’re too easily distracted. The current theory is that some workmen replaced this one with a new set, but then forgot to take this away. I was surprised at how huge it was.

On the train this morning, fabulous woman had dyed a streak in her hair orange and had rings shaped like claws. I think she’s turning into a tiger. I tried to catch her eye, see if I could start a conversation, but she was in the world of her phone screen and didn’t notice me.

Here’s another one of the traffic lights. My muddy foot bottom left for scale.

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