MKULTRA 02-Substances Which Increase the Efficiency of Mentation and Perception

“It is by will alone I set my mind in motion.”
–David Lynch


2. Substances which increase the efficiency of mentation and perception.

There is some overlap between many of the numbered parts of this 1955 memo. This is one of them. Though I don’t know precisely how and when this came about in the research, an increase in “awareness” can also be quite disturbing. If it was ETX (among, I suspect, other drugs) I was being slipped, then it in part caused irrational thinking because it heightened awareness.

For example, I recall sitting in the kitchen of a friend in early 2010 in Manhattan and being keenly aware of the knives hanging on the wall, the heat from the stove, etc. We all notice these things unconsciously, but the “alarm” in our head does not go off under normal circumstances.

This was also why I was shaking during the fireworks at Times Square not long before.

Another anecdote, also in January of 2010, not long after the extreme depression episode I detailed here, my partner was thinking to get me committed or, failing that, on some drug that would make it all better.

This was also the afternoon after Anthony and his roommate seemed to be making so much noise that I could hardly sleep.

Partially as a result of sleep deprivation and–here’s where it gets all sciencey again–the use of some sound projection technology, I was tricked into thinking something that wasn’t so.

Here’s what happened. First, I had a really nasty cold. Just couldn’t get rid of it. Additionally, we had snow previous to this (that’s important later).

While laying down half-asleep, I thought I heard the sound of a hose sliding in the wall (where the central air duct is). It sounded strange, as if it were coming from my head or was in a dream rather than actually in the wall. I was just at that exhausted point in between dreaming and being awake, so I wasn’t entirely certain I had actually heard it.

While I was attempting to answer that question, I suddenly started coughing nonstop. It was worse than it had been prior.

On top of that, I had a salty taste in my mouth from the phlegm.

Backing up ten to fifteen years, I worked for an environmental consulting firm (the one, also half geotechnical, that Bain Capital bought, shrunk and sold in the 90s). I only entered containment when we were short of personnel or for specific reasons. Twice, maybe three times, in all, as I recall.

We had been taught in class for our air monitoring and project monitoring licenses that there is no known minimum exposure to asbestos for mesothelioma. That’s what popped immediately into my head.

Now, keep in mind all of the other stuff that happened. In addition to the Conway’s fire and Squidgate, there were many harassing events including what happened at the movies, people randomly taking my photo, weird things being said to me by strangers, etc. And drugged with something that made me more susceptible to any and all stimuli.

Put the voice-to-skull stuff on top of that to “guide” me to an incorrect conclusion and always a new distracting harassment event, and I never really had a chance to think through much of anything. Someone else was attempting to do the thinking for me.

So. I thought I had been dosed with something, via a hose from the apartment above, that would emulate mesothelioma or some other asbestos-related disease.

I posted to LiveJournal about that (using words that only people who knew something was up would understand–the euphemism was a “bad cup of coffee”).

The purpose was to further torture P****, or failing that, to make him think I was working for the prosecution, DHS or whoever it was he thought was ultimately responsible for what was being done to him.

As if all of that wasn’t enough, this was also the morning (around 4:30 or 5, I think) that I saw the two phony-looking clouds: the one on the left was a shark doing a flip in the air. The other on the right was a roiling mushroom cloud.

The connection was for me to think that S**** was a terrorist of some kind.

I didn’t think that the clouds were real enough and believe that were I on a “trip” I’d have come up with something more colorful and interesting (very likely humorous) but because I had no idea how it was done, I simply thought, “I’ve been dosed with LSD or shrooms or something” as a placeholder until I could puzzle out what it was.

When I get to the MKULTRA list item on memory, this will probably belong there, but the answer was in the back of one of P****’s novels: SONY’s patent (7,350,522) to project “data” onto the cerebral cortex. I’m sure I had read that, but I didn’t recall it at all at the time. It would be the better part of a year before I would even think to look. (It’s possible that the patent is not yet operational despite it’s age, but that doesn’t mean someone in government or their private partner doesn’t have something along the same lines that works, more or less. As I said, the clouds looked fake, sort of CGI and the coloration had magenta and cyan tones in it).

The Conway arson had given a clear indication that these people are not above attempted murder, I thought I had been given limited time to live with a plausibly deniable excuse of asbestos exposure from my former job.

I later figured out that the salty taste was from salt. The neighborhood was covered in it from the attempts to melt the ice and snow on the sidewalks and streets.

While I doubt that Anthony and his roommate (who also, after the Conway fire–and three other fires in Brooklyn that were suspected to be arson–broke the door that would have been the primary exit from the building in case of fire for the half of the building I lived in) knew what was going on, things got more interesting later while I was waiting for my partner to come take me to see my doctor.

The noises from their apartment got louder. I later joked that they must have been practicing the Riverdance or stomping grapes (and again in Minneapolis when it was other people).

It got so bad, I finally struck back. I blasted “The Star-Spangled Banner” * back at them full volume. I had been afraid to go bang on their door, that I might lose my temper. I did hope in vain to see them again in the hall some time but never did.

(* That song would later, while in Minneapolis, also play on its own on my iPhone in another error like the one I detailed previously, “Retribution”. It really happened, folks. On top of that, when I was finally able to think and make the connection to MKULTRA, when my fingers got near the keyboard on the screen, the keyboard would drop down off the screen. This went on for some time. I rebooted the phone and it still did it. Eventually, it stopped and I made the first post mentioning that program on this blog).

I went out on the balcony to have a smoke and saw ‘Balding’ getting out of his vehicle, laughing angrily. He was wearing that same goddam hat but I’m not sure that that was “orange down coat day.” Might have been a hunter green he wore that day.

I thought maybe I had at last gotten through to these DHS or FBI a**holes. When Balding showed up at my doctor’s appointment later, he looked silly, reading something on his BlackBerry (one assumes Twitter, I tweeted about the music events that day), and looking remorseful.

I wish I had punched him in the head. Really, I do.

But instead I laughed. The euphoria (also partially responsible for the illogical thinking and Impulsiveness covered in the previous post) made me way too forgiving.

I convinced the doctor that it was both my ex who had some issues as well as a very real situation perhaps stemming from my attendance at an event where Rep. Wexler spoke and the subject was impeaching Dick Cheney. Wexler made a joke at the event about why a Florida congressman would be at a New York event. That answer was, he said, “Because statistically speaking, many of you are going to one day be my constituents.” The room erupted in laughter. It was over 90% Jewish folks and that was a classic joke.

So, I wrote about that event on my LiveJournal and gave the doctor the URL. He knew something strange was happening because, clearly, DHS was there. There was a nurse who did not work there. She had tried to provoke me by taking my blood earlier than it needed to be taken, I needed to wait eight hours and I was early for the appointment. She also implied I was an intravenous drug user when she asked me twice, pointedly, “Do you often have trouble finding your veins?”

But, as per usual, I have had to grin and bear the bulls***, put up with it to find out what was really happening. Now we know: it’s filled with crooks and madmen.

The doctor left his office at one point. I could hear him telling that strange nurse that there was someone who wanted to talk to her. He got testy when she played dumb. “Right there! There’s a man who wants to talk to you!”

I had, when I first went to that clinic, signed a document stating that DHS could look at my medical records if they desired (it was a hold-harmless for the clinic and I assume they all do that) in the case of investigating terrorism. I almost refused to sign it on principle but decided not to make waves because I never, of course, thought it would actually get used.

The narrative here was that I was being recruited by these yahoos. The medical work was mostly done by that nurse including the most bizarre hearing test I ever recall with a machine I had never seen before nor since.

The further narrative then was that it was my “assignment” to go beat the s*** out of B******, his father and two brothers or whichever combination because they were, it was supposed to be believed, responsible for the Conway fire.

(The connection there, if you haven’t read that already, was that there were three men in a pickup truck the same day as the fire in December, near where I lived with a chemically-induced cloud of white smoke emanating from the truck’s tailpipe that I was supposed to think was a fire at Jeremy Scahill’s place. At the Squidgate sentencing hearing in April of 2010, I saw the three B****** relatives together. This was when the parties responsible inside CIA, DOD and/or their private contractor actually responsible for the fire had hoped I would get myself arrested for assault or disorderly conduct at the courthouse. I made sure that B******’s kin saw me, clearly and repeatedly. There was no recognition from them at all, whereas the people in the pickup truck were looking in the mirror and laughing as they drove away, and clearly knew who they were showing up to f*** with. Yet another example of some well-funded group playing people off against each other and attempting to direct me to violence. I didn’t actually find out about Kate’s fire until a few days later, so the truck thing seemed like a prank at the time it occurred).

If that’s not government-sponsored terrorism, what the f*** is?

Back to the main point, while my ex and I were having lunch at a diner near the doctor’s office awaiting the results of my blood test, we chose one that had a lot of cartoon characters on the wall. I mean a lot. I have to imagine he noticed me laughing and freaking out a bit. It felt like those symbols and images were just jumping out at me.

My drug experiences are limited to very little pot use, the vast majority of which was in the 80s and as I said, very limited. Never really seemed to do anything for me so I never actively sought it out (until Amsterdam in 2008; tried it again there and was disappointed). So, when this stuff was happening, not knowing that I was drugged nor how it could have been accomplished, I really didn’t have anything to compare it to to even grasp that that was the problem.

In addition to this, I saw that former New Jersey Shakespeare Festival intern K*** M***** had filled several composition books with graffiti, license plates, and other things that she thought were some sort of messages from whatever. This, again, was largely the result of having been drugged so that she could not think clearly and having here awareness “heightened” so she could not block out the meaning of that stimuli she was getting bombarded with. It’s as though those things must mean something; her brain was telling her that they were important. Then it was up to her unconscious (and sometimes voice-to-skull) to tell her what it meant. Additionally, sometimes the graffiti or other “message” probably was directed at her by these people or other people they were manipulating.

On the flip side, of course, sometimes it’s good that you notice things (like an FBI agent pretending to take notes when he’s just scribbling). It has its advantages. But it was also illegally administered.



  1. […] you have the events I detailed here, where they convinced me I had been given an asbestos-related […]

  2. […] See again the SONY patent and the pair of phony clouds and the sound of the hose in the wall. I promise you, those things happened, I did not imagine them (in so far as virtual reality […]

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