Monday, September 17, 2007

my catastrophe theory

DEAR HEIDI HILKER, I could, with my vision seeing mind, stop 911. I could have stopped the plane crashed and been the hero of America.
I JUST NEEDED TO SEE THE FREAKIN TWIN TOWERS.


My Catastrophe Theory: predicting catastrophe through shamanism and art
a personal experience by David Alexander Cardamone, heir to the Throne of Cardamone, Italy and the rest of the World where applicable.

In the Christmas Break of 1998, I was invited by Heidi H. an art school classmate to spend the Christmas break with her in New Jersey, New York. For some strange, strange reason this did not happen to schedule. It may be perhaps my fault, for I do not remember if it was fully under my control to go to NY by my own design and behalf, for many of my finances and other means of mobility from time to time have been governed by my parents, for the reason of controlling my irksome spending habits that stemmed out of the strange side-effects of being psychotropically abused by racist, deaf-hating shrinks.

I do know, that when it comes to girls, my parents act so reluctant, as if the pleasures of love were something my parents wanted so much to deny me, as if they feel that they need to punish me for my school troubles that came from my problems of being psychotropically abused, that cock-blocking was so important in order to enforce the authoritarianism of the hearing over the deaf. I realize that being deaf and having hearing parents means that there are specific issues to work out that may happen, that happens to all deaf who have hearing parents. Keep in mind that I love my parents but it is not their fault, its just that I think there are specific issues that seem to be obstinate when it comes to hearing parents and deaf children.

It seems that I have the misfortune to have the kind of parents who do not want me to have sex with girls (my dad has torn up many a phone number of girls when I was a teenager). There are parents like this in the world and I have this problem, for being deaf and having hearing parents can have really weird and specific circumstances. Well, especially my Dad, my mom just follows along (a little bit) because she believes in the authoritarianism of the father. She is a sweet mom and does want me to have a girl, but at times feel that cockblocking is necessary punishment for my dysfucntionality with the hearing.



Having quite the terrible and demonic experience of a Christmas break in Tulsa, I went back to school to finish my final semester in the most boring and deaf-racist art school in the world. I was having quite strange dreams, of being in NY and millions of people were looking at me, as if I was from another world. I have had dreams of parades thrown in my honor all over NY CITY. Well, I had some very strange episodes where I cold feel the strange demonic influences on planet earth. As much as I wished to have kept a detailed diary, I do hope that my memory will suffice. Well, I saw the cut-out eyes of Marilyn Mansion on a dorm door, and the words "anti-christ". All in silliness, I was having quite strange spiritual feelings and I think I was suffering from withdrawal from trying to get off the pills of psychotropic abuse. I don't remember, but remember that when it comes to the supernatural all is fair game in being given the benefit of the doubt? I felt euphoric spiritual rushes in the brain and strange psychosis when seeing the word "anti-christ" as if it meant anything other than silliness. As if it could possibly involve my life, but then again, every single one of us human beings have spiritual involvement, it is inevitable. It is better to obey God than a mere human, so to speak.

Well, I decided to write a overdrawn check to marry Heidi H, plus other "duties" that involved me. I felt strange spiritual surges in my body, as if I was compelled to go on some strange errand, like a mission. I went to NY with no money, some clothes and a backpack. I skipped school to do this, and wandered the streets of NY- I had no way of leaving the airport until some really nice dude gave me a fiver in order take the subway, I wandered the subway aimlessly, trying desparately to get to Hoboken. It was not until when I got out of a stopped subway, that I went out and on the tracks, got electrocuted on the railway tracks with my left foot. It was ever since this electrical shock that I have electrical shocks in my left foot and right foot anytime in my life, to guide me in life- in the left foot, if I am doing something right, I get a nice, re-assuring, soothing, massaging "sting" meaning a good electrical shock that feels nice in the base of my left foot. But if I am messing up or there is a bad situation, I have an irksome, sometimes rather painful electrical shock in the base of my right foot. These shocks can be confusing as to what is causing them, as what situation is causing it, what do I need to do, etc- for example, if I pick out a bottle that has a winning bottle cap, I get a left sting- good for gambling, eh?



Same with girls- if I am making good moves on a girl, I get a left sting- but if she walks away, I get a right sting. These shocks of the foots have directed my "walks" in life but can be unbelievably confusing and even very maddening, it can make one go insane, because you're trying to figure out what the situation is to be dealt with at hand and it could be a million things, like leaving the running water on, or there's a horny girl around the corner, etc.

Well, after being electrocuted, I ran through an empty part of the subway station that was shut off and under construction. I ran through the rubbish like a maniac, went up the stairs, and ran through a subway railing bridge that was super-dangerous, what if there was a subway train approaching me? I'd have to jump off 50 feet or perhaps get electrocuted trying to stay off the tracks, when I reached some ladder off some building I pretty much jumped, sliding my hands on the ladder. I was so hot from all this running that I discarded my awesome threads and bag. To this day, someone found the contents of my bag and found my storage disc of my collection of scanned clip art and made a "zine" with it, which I can show you the ad for this zine in Bust magazine. I wandered many places, including a church where I asked for help and got small change (for subway) and also wandered the TransAtlantic building through its many floors.


Well, it was cold (not for me, as I felt so warm from my inner energy, which pulsated, but it was certainly freezing for others) as I had only my natty disco shirt and really fly, plaid disco flares. I ran and ran and found another subway station and went in, jumped over a subway token counter and got busted by security, who took me in for questioning and the police came over. I told them that I wanted to marry Heidi and they called her and they took me for some crazy lovesick dude (which I am, by the way) gave me some token money and put me on the proper subway and sent me on my way. Those cops where really good chaps, very nice and helpful, God bless them.

Well, I rode the subway and there was Heidi, waiting. I shalln't bore you with the extreme details of the three days I spent in NY, but try to get to the points. Heidi, she was rather disappointed that I did not come in for the winter break of Christmas when she invited me, as I instead came in so early in the school semester after Xmas break.
"I am here in NY to prevent a death" I said, totally insane.
"Whose death" says Heidi, breath reeking of stale Chinatown.
"I am not too sure. But I am here to find out", I said.
I also told her that I was a Paranormal Detective, while I stared at the mirror for a long, long time trying to see ghosts. Whatever the hell that came from, I'll bet you think that was pretty messed up. haha. "Paranormal Detective" haha.

Well, I was obsessed with Andy Warhol's hobby of staring at buildings. Andy would hang out with his superstar friends and they would stare at the Empire State Building, for hours and hours.
"Stare at the building" says Andy.
Hell, perhaps it was a joke? Is the Empire State Building, some sexual object or a piece of sexual architecture used by King Kong? that this was a funny joke on one's memory and imagination? I don't think I'm the first to think of King Kong when I stare at the Empire State Building, I think Bob Dylan also made some King Kong remark there with Edie, I am not sure. I took Andy Warhol very seriously and would try much to stare at the buildings in NY. How disappointing it was, however so big they were, that I did not have the fortunancy to stare at the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. Hell, I was inside the WTC Subway Station, and I walked inside and outside of the WTC, but I didn't look up, just to see the Twin Towers was the magic ingredient that I needed.


Well, it was time to leave NY. The girl refused my marriage proposal, and she took me to the airport. At the newsstand there were some books, and I looked at a NY bestseller that has a meteor falling to earth. It was an apocalypse story and I was drawn to it. I flipped through the pages and saw the words "Barbershop Valentine Quartet from Tulsa" and immediately took this as a sign, and thought of my rock n roll friends in Tulsa,


Admiral Twin, who were the former Mellowdramatic Wallflowers. Heidi pushed me around in a wheelchair and treated me as if I was a mental reject, which was insulting, and I'll quote this that anyone who'd want to marry Heidi H. would have to be mentally ill, for her breath always stank and she smells rank, and she's no prettier than the average next-door girl, and has the mentality of a hillbilly girl who wants to be an artist-wanna be with the normal fashion obsessions most girls have who move to NY. I think I was more in love with her fashion sensibilities instead, and also in love with the possibility that the lost winter break she invited me to in NY would have given me the time and incentive to save NY from the crashing planes.

I have much to say, but let's get to the real stuff for now.
The meteor apocalypse book? The quote I read in this bestseller as I flipped the book open once read, "Barbershop Valentines Quartet from Tulsa" immediately reminded me of Admiral Twin, (even if they are not the tulsa barbershop singers as far as I know about that, its just the way I think) I guess when I think of a musical reference to Tulsa, it would be so that when it comes to Admiral Twin/Mellowdramatic Wallflowers, as I have attended at least a hundred of their concerts and also, no other band in Tulsa has dominated the scene as much as they have. So the reference of "Singing Valentines Barbershop Quartet from Tulsa" immediately gave me the mental reference to Admiral Twin. So where does Admiral Twin fit in all this?
Their logo, which was this: {insert logo here}


As you can see, their logo incorporated the use of Roman Numerals of 2 which looks like twin towers, plus they are inside the pentagon, and are surrounded by five stars. Remember, to a lay-person, this is silly nonsense. But to an artist, many artist and deep thinkers, poets, philosophers, symbols and images have meanings and many meanings, and are looked by upon by artists with many interpretations of course are personal reflections and personal interpretations, for they look at things differently and of course unaccustomed by the lay-person. I would even go far as making remarks that the five stars being the five planes intended to be stolen, with only 3 successfully crashed. Their symbol they made is helpful, and it is. Good or bad? To me its neutral, it's sensitivity.


More references that leads my "train of thought" or "thought processing" that can be conjectured as clues to interpret them to make "prophetism" of the future. I remember, when I spent 3 days at Kristin R.'s apartment during my art school days she and her girlfriend were showing me a National Geographic magazine advertisements. On the left page was an obelisk of some national monument in Washington DC, very phallic. On the right page was a half-squatting girl, and it looks like when you look at both pages you can see the sexual innuendo putting both of the pages together, the phallic image of the obelisk was important to me, because in Tulsa there is an obelisk downtown, with the metal cloud on top of it and in that metal cloud on top of the obelisk were airplanes. It seems that the "ejaculation" from the penis (obelisk) were planes, and thus enter the vagina (the pentagon) and connect that with the Admiral Twin logo you also get the twin towers inside the vagina also crashed. This imagery was really important to my thought processing in my prophesies of 911. {insert image of tulsa obelisk here, perhaps others also}



I have skimmed a textbook at the Library called, "Sex and Architecture" which made many, many sexual references in architecture. This was important to my imagination and thought-processing. Also, there is a monument in KC, MO where I wasted my precious youth at a shitty art school, this monument had also twin towers, more like columns as they were round in girth, and built perhaps for the purposes of ornamentation, if nothing else. On the base was a mound of earth with a stone bas relief depicting the scenes of the Apocalypse, the scenes of the Book of Revelations. This monument's twin columns at this park is important in clue-giving imagery. {insert photos if you can find them}
(sex in architecture by Diana Agrest)

When I was in OSU in Stillwater, in the year of 1999-2000 I had a special radio-transmitter button by my door that triggers my lights so that I know when someone is at the door. That button was stolen, for it is not a permanent feature of the house, of course. I went to the police station to file a report and looked at the "most wanted" signs and saw a 5 million dollar reward for "information leading to the arrest of Osama Bin Laden" and


the nice cops made me a copy of this poster and I put it up on my wall for inspiration to waste this bufu. I would spend many an hour drunk at the bar talking about ways to get the reward money, talking about Osama Bin Laden, Terrorism in 1999! I was way ahead of my time with current events! Many people would overhear my drunken ramblings and rants about Osama Bin Laden and look at me as if I was from another planet, and stare at me blankly. Oh, and how interesting how many small planes of OSU basketball players and other sport players seem to crash..

Well, after I graduated, I still had the poster in my room. I had been reading the previous tenant's NYTimes that were still delivered to my place, and on the front page was a small terrorist attack on WTC by some doofus with dynamite up his stinky ass.

So, I started to think more about terrorism and the reward money, I thought about it, and wanted the reward money and also be a hero and save lives. So, I said aloud to myself, "How would a self-sacrificing terrorist go about doing destruction? A tank stolen from an army base is too hard and too difficult" and then I go, "Ah Ha! A plane stolen from an airport! How easy! And then one would crash it into a building!" So I started drawing. I drew 2 towers, and drew references to the fallen tower of Babel and started trying to make out theoretical interpretations and references. I have some of the art and drawings, for I drew planes crashing into buildings and such. But due my disappointments in a bad art school experience, I threw away some drawings, as my visual art has been very little and suffered ever since I graduated art school. I felt that the trouble I went through in art school that it made me feel that art wasn't worth it, because it is a nuthouse filled with people's heads in their asses over elitism and snobbery, and that same elitism and snobbery does not make room for a deaf artist, and nothing is worse than hicks trying to be artist wanna-bees with their hick elitism and snobbery really creates super problems for an artist from a completely different world, Los Angeles.

Due to the time I spend wandering the TransAtlantic Building in NYC, I thought perhaps that the plane would crash into it. Had I seen the WTC's Twin Towers in it's full splendor, I would immediately know that the planes would crash into the Twin Towers. Instant Prophesy when it comes to staring at the WTC TT.
As for my visions, I did see visions of plane crashes. During Christmas of 2000, at the Xmas parade, I looked at the BOK building downtown Tulsa and yes, I actually saw visions of planes crashing into it. The imagery was real and it would not leave my head. The imagery was so strong, that it was impossible not to shake it out of my head or dismiss it as silly imaginativeness. I would sit and daydream for hours that I'm in another plane, in the cockpit, beating up terrorists and diverting the plane from the building to a more less-occupied area and jumping out of the plane to safety. This is FOR REAL.

In 2000-2001, before 911, I have spent many an hour fantasizing about writing a hot check, going to God knows where (it would prolly be NYC again) and find the terrorists, perhaps even being on the same plane and beating up the terrorists and diverting the plane to a less occupied area (I thought of a street or the sea) and even jumping out of the plane to avoid my death, and then I was at the throes of seeing visions of a huge-ass parade thrown in my honor with the sky dark clouded by confetti.

Alas, I thought that the plane was going to crash into the TransAtlantic Building. Pretty ridiculous, that false assumption? I really needed to see and "stare" at the Twin Towers. No wonder perhaps why Heidi invited me over for Xmas break. I think that one full month of the time would have given me sufficient time to notice and stare at the Twin Towers.

Hell dammit, on the friday-saturday before 911, I hear a voice in my head. Hell, I've heard many voices, for I was psychotropically abused by deaf hating racist shrinks. I was experiencing "schizophrenic form" which is a false sense of schizophrenia. I did hear a lot of voices and I was going nuts from the psychotropic abuse. Its maddening to be on the wrong prescriptions, for if one is misdiagnosed with Prozac one will develop maniac rage and psychosis, and being born premature and had spinal meningitis, this means even more side-effects, and also being deaf, I think prozac is really for very normal hearing herd persons and not for the eccentric deaf


types. Prozac sucks, the bonus of being oh so happy around demonic influences. Will some smart preacher please stand up and tell us that we don't need a happy response to a demonic influence? God gave us depression so that we may feel depressed around demons, and happy around angels, so that we may know the difference between good and evil. In fact, this would perhaps take me an entire extra essay, but I wish to say that when it comes to "depression" its more of a "false prophet" thing. meaning that I'm depressed because I know the future, for example, I know that I'm depressed because I can feel that in the future I failed to save WTC TT or that I won't get laid due to my scrambled "Sexual Sensory Perception" that my shrinks so much wanted to ruin-mate, shit like that. So, what I am trying to explain is that the false prophet of the devils want to ruin-mate the vision television thought-processing in a way that its kinda like a "time machine" game with the mind.. in the war of prophets it is essential to understand the "pre-ghost" and not just an "after ghost". I will write a dissertation on this, "War of the Prophets and False Prophets: Understanding the Time Machine in the mind and the haunting by the Pre-Ghosts".

Well, a voice told me to call the cops. I did not have a working TTY phone and well, I really wanted to call the cops, but I didn't know what to tell them. What I wanted to tell them is that Osama is going to crash some planes in NYC. My KKK deaf-hating shrink told me "not to listen to my voices". My shrink abused his medical authority to tell me that I am mentally ill in order to make me mentally ill, which came about from being purposefully misdiagnosed and purposefully prescribed pills for the actions of psychotropic abuse, to punish me for being deaf and talented. To be deaf and talented will get you an army of enemies. It was my shrink's sickest ass-sucking desire to destroy my talents through psychotropic abuse. The minute I tell my shrink I did 100 tornado kicks on the rim of an empty water fountain which is dangerous and impossible for a normal hearing person to do under normal circumstances. I have a different body and chemical makeup with a gift from God for me. So when my shrink knows I do something so God-Send talented, he wants to fuck it up with his abuse of his bullshit medical authority to prescribe me shitty faddish pills that should never be prescribed to people born premature and had spinal meningitis. So I didn't do any martial arts for 7 years during those 7 years is when I took the infernal shite medication. I could have trained and made Bruce Lee films in art school doing amazing tricks like Tony Jaa. I wasted 100,000 dollars on the shittiest art education from hillbilly white trash. See, the shitty ass-sucking prozac and ritalin fucked with my mind and ruin-mated my martial arts career, and ruin-mated my love life. My beastial sex maniac shrink knew I was talented and wanted to destroy it. Well, after graduating, and finally I started doing martial arts when getting off the shite pills. Thats when the visions began, doing martial arts was the return of my special samurai-ninja mind, that beautiful mind that my shrink wanted to destroy and put a "cookie cutter" on it and make it a "herd mind". It is that samurai-ninja mind that gave me the special incentive to see visions to help out mankind and humanity. We cannot ignore the God-given gift of vision-seeing, prophesy, shamanism, dream-interpreting, listening to the voices of angels, the "pre anti-christ " will try hard to make you believe that science tells you that there is no God, and that you are mentally ill for believing in God and the Supernatural. Right now, the shrinks and psychotropia is the war on spirituality, especially those who are of God's spiritual race. The psycho-tropics are nothing but "social tools". The 8 trillion dollar industry of greedy charlatan conglomerates want to "social tool" you so that-you do not differentiate from the herd. They fear the Ubermensch and they want to "social tool" you for the money. To keep the money flow in their direction.

Well, unfortunately, I wished I called the cops, I am sure they would dismiss me as a mental health warder or they wouldn't do anything- for example, all I know for sure that the planes were going to crash into NYC, and it was going to happen, and I was going after the reward money and save lives and be a hero and get some poon-tang. I had no way of knowing where the planes were going to be stolen from and all such detail, and I wished and tried to make educated guesses, spiritual guesses, this type of guessing can make one go mad. Five million dollars just for information leading to the arrest of Osama Bin Laden. Perhaps it would have been optimistic and I know most are pessimistic when they think of calling the police over the mere whims of the mind.

In the espionage game, it is 99% guesswork, it is all about making the right guesses in order to carry out your spy-work. Anyone who watches all the James Bond movies, read the spy books, and works for an espionage


company will tell you that it is 99% guesswork. This is quoted with pride as many a spy who has made an accurate guess will say so.

Think about the date, 911. It was a very selective date, like a clue, it's as if Osama Bin Laden was trying to make a chess board and pieces because by offering a "Chess game" you see the pieces and therefore play the strategy. 911 was chosen after the number we call the cops. I remember, many, many a night, I would stare at my digital clock, staring at the numbers all night long, trying to figure out why I am mesermized by the digital clock and what it represented to me- for the numbers game on the digital clock had meaning to me, and it's 911. I was inspired to stare at the digital clock by a video class project where we had to make videos that were time-specific. We had to make videos that show a great amount of time-base construct, to really capture the reality of time in a video. What I did, I filmed myself as a sailor and made moves on a mannequin girl, and eventually I kissed it, etc, etc, then later in the video the mannequin girl is naked save a "hourglass dress" I made from transparent plastic, and I stuffed leftover food down the hourglass dress, as if I was feeding her to try to make her "alive" and then I commit suicide (acting) in the video. Strange enough, just a few days after making this video I was mugged by gunpoint with guns by hitmen my art professors hired, pretending to be street thugs in the nasty, Missouri ghetto that surrounds the shitty art school. I kinda see the relationship of my suicide death in the video and my close-near death experience (time of video and mugging is same day) I have like, at least 15 suicide actings in my video-performances. I got a C- and was heavily criticized for this and every other video I've made, just like Jim Morrison was heavily criticized in film school. In fact, my use of appropriation is similar to Jim's appropriation in film, also.

The point is, I was obsessed with time and how it related to knowing "when" in trying to predict catastrophe. Hell, many a scientist try to do this with Catastrophe Theory {add insert here} of illustrious and references I provide in this zine.

Now for the crazy twilight zone shit. Does anyone understand "first person narrative"? It is when you play the narrative of a character or action-scene. In this case, I was playing "Unreal Tournament" and was playing the virtual remote-guided missile, and when using it, you have a "first person narrative" view as if you were flying the missile, but you're not really riding the missile, you just see it that way as you remote control it (built in camera in the missile enables you to guide it by remote). Well, I was flying around in the game and was exploding the opponents around with it. It was at the same time the planes were crashing into the WTC TT! It's eerie, uncanny, in a bad way, and twilight-zonish. It's gives me the creeps that I was remote-control flying a missile in the game "Unreal Tournament" and explode an android robot maybe even at the exact same time the planes crash into the WTC TT? Definitely approximate.

The point is sensitivity- I feel that I was being sensitive to what's going on out there and the events around me, it's like Albert Einstein said, "I sure would like to know what God thinks" well, the Bible says that we can't know what God thinks. But do you know what I think? I think we know what Satan thinks.

Well, after showing you some of the main clues, and I know there's more than where my clues came from. Lets go back to the Heidi sending me in the wheelchair chit chat. Well, it seems so strange to be treated like shit, for being honorable about wanting to marry a girl- all that feminist mumbo-jumbo has gone too far- I wonder if these girls have actually thought about it, since little do feminists know that deaf men have NOT treated women like shit in deaf history- and since when there was a deaf man in the far past have been in an authoritative position to treat women like shit and give them inequality? Plus in way far-back history, how many deaf babies were drowned or left in the wilderness for being deaf?

So, this bitch pushes me on a wheelchair at the airport. Oh, I can do 100 Tornado Kicks on the rim of an empty water fountain, by the way, bitch. I can type in my long, long library card number without needing the card, and I've read 800 books, done 27 pro fights, 4 champ belts, run 10 miles in 70 minutes which is navy seal passing requirements, have tons of art awards, poetry awards, writing awards, I'm way more talented than you Heidi,


bitch. Plus Im also better looking if I dress like a girl, too. So, I get kicked out of school for playing hooky for only a fucking mere 3 days in the first week of school. I was told that my absences of 3 days in the first week of school would cause letter drops and I was forced to withdraw. Actually, some classes just haven't happened until the 3-4th day, and usually on that class is when we "introduce ourselves" and have a outdoor picnic instead of really doing any work whatsoever. In fact, usually it is not until the second week when any real action begins. (I know, I ve been in art school) well, that costed me a lost 6 thousand dollars. That's white trash elitism and snobbery from stupid white trash mid-american hillbillies whose shit stinks up the earth this shitty, shitty, shitty, shitty, shitty, shitty, racist art school that truly hates the deaf and they have had hired hit men to kill me (pretending to be muggers) for being deaf and constantly irritating their white trash elitism and snobbery midamerican art is the worst art in the world, ever. If there's any art that sucks, its art in the midamerica. The art that I hate most than any art is midamerican art.

My parents decided to send me to the mental health ward to punish me. They were so angry at me for leaving school and playing hooky in NYC. Also, they wanted me to go to the Mental Health Ward for "delusions of grandeur for wanting to make electronic music". My parents hate it when I want to make electronic music and fuck chicks. These two things are what my parents hate and try to prevent me from doing so. Some people do or don't as I have the unfortunate situation to have parents who don't want their children to get laid. Very weird, using shrinks and psycho-tropic abuse instead of the good old paddle to the honey buns. Using shrinks as a form of control and punishment will just create millions and millions of problems and demonia.

So I enter hell in this Mental Health Ward where they fuck me up real good. I start hearing like, a million voices in my heard after treatment and gained 30 pounds in like, a month. and I have had the most nightmarish mental torture known to man, ever. You see, many an old fart has been taken up by the "demonics" of the system. The old cant be young again. Do you think an old Okie nazi who burnt little africa (referring to shrinks at the ward) wants a deaf boy to get blowjobs from hot chicks? yeah right!
See , the old farts always want to destroy the new. Its war. Sexual Politics is really a real thing.

Hmm.. about how some people react to alarm calls and how others don't. I'm trying to explain why I am seeing visions of 911 and not the entire population. I know I've watched Saturday Night Live and the response to 911 was "I knew it was going to happen, too" The point is, the scientists of Catastrophe theory want to use the scientific method to predict disastrous events. {insert} I thought about this, its my ninja mind that helps me see visions correctly, while the psychotropic abuse was to scramble my "Sexual Sensory Perception" as well as ruin-mate my talents.

You may not have to be boiled in water, have island isolation, and take psychoactive honey like John the Baptist to see visions of Revelations, right? I believe that my mental torture from the psychotropic abuse gave me the "schizophrenic form" I experienced in school. I was just fine and had no problems until I took prozac. I was just fine and my only problem was that I was in Tulsa. Well, one day it was 3-4 A.M. in the morning and in my dorm room I have an installed flashing light that is hooked to the fire alarm and it went off, it is very very bright at night. I went out to the hallway, and could not believe that anyone was awake. In fact, I was the only person who knew than the loud, blaring, blasting fire alarm was on and Im deaf! So i ran around the hallway, screaming, pounding on doors trying to awaken everyone from sleep. I woke up one of my friends who lived across the hall and he said, "David, I'm trying to sleep. Why did you set off the alarm? I'm going back to bed".
I protested, trying to explain that its not a joke (as far as I know it's not my joke) and that I most certainly did not trigger the alarm, I continued running around the hallways banging the doors and screaming while the alarm was blaring quite extraordinary loud, even way too loud to my tastes. Well, I saw the Room Assistant who was a huge, monolithic headbanger and he ran towards me like a charging bull and rammed me and knocked me to the ground.
"I am going to break every bone in your body" John the R.A. snarled.
"I swear to God, I didn't set off the alarm. "
I mean, whatever. This was a rather cool RA who lets everyone drink beer and party, but he was accusing me of


setting off the alarm, I know I have a reputation, but to be trying to wake everyone up and to at the scene of the crime of setting off the alarm, I know it looks like an o.k. disguise, but still, yeah right, if I had set off the alarm, its most likely I'd disappear, That's pretty normal and logical, even to use that logic to hide beneath? Sorta my style, but still, I'd hide, because panic will make one run from such a prank. So, when I think about how the entire floor of sleepy, tired and hearing art students who ignore the alarm (are they hearing it? shit, how do they sleep with more than 15 minutes of a loud, blaring fire alarm?) here it is, I, a deaf person, am trying to wake up the hearing during a very loud, blaring fire alarm. When I think, and I don't know, but how many hearing were "asleep" during the "alarm call" of 911? I was rather woken up to the "alarm call" off 911, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my mind and my perception of the world. So I guess I was awoke to 911 while the hearing were asleep, just like in this fire alarm situation.

I could go on to an amazing amount of detail and make really far-out theories that make no sense to anyone except myself and other freaks. So I've saved the details for another in-depth publication of this writ.
However, I have another interesting conjecture. When my father was working as a waiter at Nicole's Diner (way back then waiters made 40K a year) One day, he got a bad tip from 3 okie assholes. Each one of them gave him pennies, making a total of 3 pennies. Insulted, my father threw these pennies back at them.
So I see it this way, that those 3 pennies are the 3 plane crashes of 911. Just like when I was little, going to middle school at Victory Christian School, a very boring place that turns a lot of people away from God. Well, I had a spelling test out in the hallway (where I couldn't be disturbed or cheat) and I was watched by a standing student volunteer with her prying, hating eyes. I was told, I would get a Trix Candy Bar if I got 100% on the spelling test. I did hard and got 99% on the test. Which is pretty good, eh? Hell, I didn't get the Trix Candy Bar, which composes of two chocolate covered cookie bars, which of course, resembles the WTC Twin Towers. For Christ Sakes, I was just a little kid, and I didn't get my candy bar. Or save the WTC Twin Towers. A little reward would have gone a long way, bitch. "take care of the little things, and it will take care of the big things" 911 saved by a candy bar? Go figure.

Oh well, I'd thought I'd point it out. Well, you know the boys and girls dorm buildings are separate, like the Twin Towers are separate from each other, well, two dorm tenants who live from each other in separate buildings but adjacently facing each other- the mirrors in their rooms, one says "red rum" and the others says "murder". Not a big deal of a "clue" or a "tip" but it all helps. Premonition.

It's like I'm some weird artist dude whose works/dreams/mind can predict catastrophes on planet earth, like those characters in a television sitcom or "Heroes" and stuff like that, It's weird but sooner or later people are going to realize that the use value of shamanism, prophetism, dream interpretation, just like Kings did a long, long, long time ago.

Duh!!