THE BLACK BOOT DIARIES: Phantom Sounds, Sights and Symptoms (Updated)

(UPDATE: Added paragraph enclosed with asterisks below).

Ran across this piece from my defunct LiveJournal account. It was “code” for a particularly harried couple of days, when the harassment was intense and near constant. When I wrote it, I was drugged, had my head messed with incessantly, and was sleep deprived.

Note: Friends again… Jumps topics a bit.

It’s not the micros growing in it {that I can deal with), but rather the fiber. Who knew you could drink or otherwise take in couffee like that?

To the young gents who fixed it, I forgive you. Undoubtedly you thought you were doing the right thing. Who knows what kind of pretty things you heard about fixing coffee?

In an unrelated topic, my first longterm job in NYC was with an environmental
consulting firm. Of course. I didnt do the dirty work, I was the IT guy. Only entered containment twice in my nine years with them (and both times, well protected by positive air pressure).

And yet, it’s plausible, isn’t it? Cannot deny that.

I can see why Fleming would avoid writing about such a scene: It’s excruciatingly slow.

The events were in January. I have noted most of them before but no all together. I will try to recall their order and piece them together.

The misspelling of coffee as I read this today I initially thought was a typo. Then I recalled that it wasn’t. It was a reference to the unending coughing I had been experiencing for weeks. It wasn’t until after I posted this on LiveJournal (to friends only apparently) that I figured out it wasn’t asbestos exposure.

January 2010, I was trying to sleep at the condo in Brooklyn. The noise upstairs (seemingly coming from the apartment rented by Anthony and another young man, who as I have written, I believe to be employees of some government apparatus, possibly DHS, or a contractor to the same) was becoming unbearable. The drugs and/or EMP/HPM effects enhanced my sensitivity to them as did the harassment on the street, on the Internet, at work, etc.

As I lay in bed half awake, I sort of heard was sounded like a metal flexible duct being shoved through the wall. There was something off about the sound. It was muffled somehow. I was not sure as I lay there half asleep if I was dreaming it. I forced my eyes open at one point to prove I wasn’t. But the sound was odd, as if in my head but not “in my ears.” I knew absolutely nothing about voice-to-skull at this point.

After the sound abated, the central heat kicked on. Then I had a coughing fit that was probably the worst yet. I tasted salt in my mouth, which I assumed to be blood.

The thought suddenly occurred to me, they might be attempting to dose me with asbestos. A plausible way to murder someone who once worked for an environmental consulting company (yes, the one bought by Bain Capital). Of course, that leap in logic was also the result of electronic brainhacking of some sort. This happened a lot, and was why I got so many things wrong at the beginning of Squidgate. It is in part the fact that I have had so much disinfo shoved into my head that did not fit the facts that I am able to usually pick them out. The other part was learning the hard way just how vicious and sick the individuals are who think this stuff up and how obedient the field people are at following their orders. In case you are still having trouble wrapping your head around that, read or re-read the Operation Northwoods memorandum. Shooting down a plane full of American college students in order to false-flag their way into invading Cuba says all you need to know about the mindset. We are all expendable to them except as cannon-fodder, walking ATMs, and cover for the extinction of “free will” voting.

Now wide awake and mourning my own demise (not for the last time, this happened a few times until I got bored with that too) and unable to stop the coughing any other way, I decided to step out on the balcony and try to paralyze my cilia with nicotine. (Hey, dying anyway, why worry?).

That was when I saw the two “clouds.” Projected onto my cerebral cortex electronically, I saw the two CGI-looking clouds, one a shark and one a mushroom cloud. As I wrote before, there was something off about the color. Grey with shadows of magenta and blue. This “vision” was such that I couldn’t understand why it didn’t have a soundtrack. I recognize in retrospect that that was because it looked like a movie and would have either have had music or sound effects to go with it if it had been in one.

At the time, I sort of thought, “Okay, I’ve been dosed with a drug.” But not really, because it didn’t seem like something my unconscious would do if I had been. “LSD” served as a placeholder until I could figure out what that and the sounds earlier actually were (see the Sony patent link at right).

I went in and wrote the above LJ entry and that was when I realized that the salt taste was from all of the salt being used to melt the snow and ice. Natural that I would breathe it in.

In any case, I was at last ready to go to the doctor to get rid of the cough. (That despite being told that my now ex-partner had been considering trying to get me committed to a mental institution behind my back. Had he been successful, who knows, Lynnae Williams and I might have been wingmates.

Pardon the bitterness–I recognize that was brainhacking as well–but I cannot forget that I did not even once consider such a thing when he had his deep depressions over the loss of his mother, etc. and at least checked with someone before getting him into the NYC suicide-watch-system. Not to mention supporting him financially when he was jobless. Again, I know basically how that happened, but it’s still a bit bothersome that I manage to resist while others who have known mw for a decade or longer don’t seem capable. Makes you look at your fellow humans differently. As I also wrote elsewhere, this happened to Technodyne’s ‘Mark’ and is currently happening to some poor fellow on Facebook as he wrote on Organized Gang Stalking is Terrorism’s wall. A reason why, knowing I have repeatedly alerted the authorities that is happening and that I am far from the first to do so, “the authorities” suck. But, hey, it’s okay everyone, Goldman Sachs is doing great!).

In waiting for the appointment at home, there was considerable noise again. That was when I blasted the “America the Beautiful” (or was it “The Star Spangled Banner”?) and it stopped.

I looked out the front window and there was Balding who had just arrived, laughing but also looking very pissed off (the narrative, whether true or not, was that the song had given those under his charge pause in their harassment).

Before I left, I decided to fight rather than submit to being labelled mentally disturbed. It was quite tempting…I figured I might be left alone if I just played along with whatever diagnosis they could come up with.

*** But there was that person who, it seemed at the time, was depending on me not giving up. That dude in the deli on January 3, 2010. I just couldn’t let it go because of that. So, the LJ post just before I left (see below). This might have been the first time that the deli event bore any meaning at all. It would increase as time went on (such as the encounter with the would-be/implied assassin at McDonalds and resulting shock in February). ***

I went in and ‘Balding’, my favorite Disaffected, was there. I had seen him a few times, usually wearing a fuzzy Russian hat and bright orange coat (again, this is standard discrediting stuff…drugged and dazzled with descriptions that no cop would believe). Balding was reading his BlackBerry (my tweets about the noise and playing the song, it was supposed to be apparent). I just laughed.

Then came the appointment and the attempt to get me to do the blood test early…I was now convinced that I had been misdiagnosed with diabetes from a previous situation like that. The nurse and I had words (this was after I expressly told the receptionist that I could not do the blood test until the appointment time. See how they try to provoke you?).

Eventually we did the appointment. The doctor knew something was awry. I got the impression that DHS had foisted the nurse on him and that Balding had wanted to speak to her. I could here the doctor whispering intensely in the hallway to her, “That man wants to talk to you. Right there! That man right there!”

So it was easy to convince him that I wanted a placebo in order to make my partner feel better. I had also posted just before leaving on LJ about an event I attended with now former Rep. Wexler on the subject of impeaching Dick Cheney. I gave him the link and was to come back for the blood test results later.

During lunch, my partner and I chose one with a bunch of old Saturday morning cartoon characters on the walls. I was horrified and excited at the same time. They were so brightly colored, it seemed. It was like ears ringing for the eyes. Another indication that I had been drugged and that DHS or whoever was covering it up by running the appointment.

I went back and saw the best results I had gotten in years. I tweeted about that (and how it might be a state or federal law about tampering with medical records, I was at the time thinking they were genuine) later in the evening and immediately saw a bunch of people I did not know piling into a minivan laughing. The phony harassing narrative being they were going to alter the records. (This was what l meant by people tripping over each other, I don’t know that I even saw that group again).

They were treating the appointment as though I was being recruited.

I deleted my LiveJournal account on February 8, 2010 as a result of these harassing events / violation of my First Amendment rights. I did not keep a copy (and it’s a shame…had a short story up there I was rather fond of, though I was drugged when I wrote it so cannot know if it was any good. It was about a bridge).

So there are some examples as to how the tech is interwoven with more traditional covert ops, psyops, etc., and how sad it is that Congress prefers the kickbacks they get from Top Secret America to looking out for their constituency.

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