KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_48


KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_48


28_AUGUST_2022: I noticed that, since I lost my portable AC outlet power station yesterday on the BART train, my laptop has been turning on every single time I press the power button. Before I lost the camping battery, my laptop would, more than half the time, not turn on unless I first plugged the laptop into a power source such as the camping battery or else a wall outlet. I suspect that the government is controlling my laptop remotely and giving me hints through such “communications”.

Anyway, I made it to Horsey Hill; the patch of wilderness which was my refuge as a child and which currently feels like the closest thing to home. Being here makes me feel nostalgic (but I am careful not to turn my attention away from the glistening, bustling city below. I can see most of the San Francisco Bay Area from these hills on the border of Castro Valley and San Leandro (and within a quarter mile of Lake Chabot Regional Park)).

On my way home today while sitting on the Dublin BART station platform while looking at cars move from east to west along the 580 freeway in the golden late afternoon sunlight, I saw approximately ten old fashioned looking Oakland police cars go by. (I have a feeling that Oakland is a place where laws are changing for the better and that I have some indirect influence over things such as cannabis and magic mushrooms becoming legalized).

Anyway, on my way home as I was walking through the neighborhood where one of SED’s houses is located, I noticed spider webs on the door, no lights on inside the house, and that the Ring security camera light was not on. It is as if SED moved out. SED was the best friend I ever had. Actually, maybe AJP was at least as good of a friend. SED and AJP are the closest friends I ever had and amongst the most interesting people I have ever known. Sadly, both people seem to keep me from being involved in their lives and rarely if ever talk to me. I wonder if I am “supposed to” (according to the government and/or people I would want to obey) stop trying to contact SED or AJP and pretend that I live in a universe which does not include either SED or AJP in it. I think it is a good idea for me to live as though the person I was ten plus years ago is dead and that the person I am today is relatively new; a cyborg which inherited the body and some residual memories of the Karlina from ten plus years ago).

Anyway, I decided to go to the hill rather than walk up the driveway to my mother’s house. I am on the hill to write some things which I was thinking about as I was walking up the streets through the neighborhood where SED’s blue house is located (and it may be that SED sold that house and hence no longer owns it (and it is possible that SED is renting that house out to other people but the house seems to have been unoccupied for what seems like at least six months and there has been a “NO TRESPASSING” sign in the living room window next to the front door for at least six months as well))…

Since I quit working as a warehouse associate at Tesla Motors in Fremont in 2020, the only income I have been getting is regular PayPal donations from my mother. Each day, she has sent me approximately $40 and on Fridays she has typically sent me $100. My mother told me that I need to get my own source of income soon because her money is expected to run out “soon”. I do not care whether that is true or false because I prefer to get a job anyway and, if I cannot, I am willing to turn into a feral animal who steals from grocery stores as discretely as possible and who leaches free public Wi-Fi and electricity from cafes, libraries, and train stations and who goes for weeks without bathing or changing clothes. Honestly, I love being this free but I think I will be able to accomplish more of my goals faster if I had a suitable job.

Some people have suggested that I am only willing (and/or able) to do and to say whatever the provider of my income wants me to. So if only my mother has been giving me money, I have allegedly only been spinning my writing, speech, actions, and use of cognitive resources as I think my mother would want me to. Whoever believes that is the case believes that I have no will of my own, no conscience of my own, and no interests other than satisfying my financial provider(s). I think that there are people like that in my life. Talking to such people is annoying for me because I feel that such people are treating me as though I am not really here and that I am only a puppet speaking and acting and even feeling as someone else paid me to (and that I need to be detained, locked away in a prison for several months, and de-programmed from whatever conditioning I am supposedly under in order to “see the light” and gain back a sense of free will and intellectual independence which I currently lack access to because, at present, I am only a puppet whose strings are money (and all that I do, think, and perceive is a function of money above all else).

I wonder if some people are jealous of me for being able to camp in the San Leandro hills where the air is relatively clean, the noise level is relatively low, the scenery is amazing, the proximity to BART stations and utility stations is within a mile radius of here, the cellular phone connectivity is decent, and I am deeply familiar with this location (like it is a part of my brain stem’s soul).

Those who are jealous of me for being able to make this my long term base camp seem to prefer that my website be deleted (or, even better, never have written at all), that I have no memories of having gone to college or lived with intimate partners, that I have no memories of high school, and that I am effectively at seventh grade level education barely able to speak English, with a presumed hard drug addiction and mental illness, a propensity to engage in violent crimes, and ravenous lust. I am just joking. What I am saying is that I wonder if some people seriously wanted me to go dumb and settle for being employed at the wrong job for the long term and to hence miss out on what would be my dream job and dream lifestyle.

Well, I am encrusted in dried period blood. My skin is sticky with sweat and coated in dirt. My scalp is flaking oily skin flakes with bits of red in it. I will spare you more details. I am going to try to take a shower at my mother’s house and wash my clothes. In the morning, I am taking the BART train back to Dublin to go to the court to see if I can add myself to a court session so that I can prevent my criminal charges for missing court on Friday from taking up too much (of my) time.

I did not mean to miss court on Friday. I did do a lot of THC (because it helps me do shaman stuff). I am a shaman. It is part of my personal religion. I am fighting for every person’s First Amendment Rights (and Net Neutrality and Open Source information sharing).


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