I was evicted from the house on Fraser and 11th. I had a strange acquaintance with a crew of people that like in the end fell apart like most of my personal relationships do with most people.
I was so high that day I had to move that I left my house in the hands of a couple of these new "buddies" of mine and went to ride my bike. I was gone half the day, long after the 12 noon deadline that I had to be out of the place. I don't know why. But, being that high on speed and being on my bike I just can't ever seem to stop riding it. Which was funny because I had to move that day but instead after my buddy gave me a huge chunk of meth I went bike riding instead.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
God is a Racist Homophobe
I'm not really. I had my reasons. I couldn't just have you banding off together and becoming reclusive homosexual hermits all bundled up with the truth and going extinct with all this knowledge before you passed it on.
My biggest problem with homosexuality is that I went through all this trouble to make you and I like to watch you live. And, if you don't make another one of you I will miss you.
I know it happens. But, it just can't happen to much and especially not too much in little clans and such as you once were.
Remember, don't judge. Let me be the judge because my judgment is perfect.
Otherwise, I will have to judge you.
And, there are rooms in my house for everybody.
My biggest problem with homosexuality is that I went through all this trouble to make you and I like to watch you live. And, if you don't make another one of you I will miss you.
I know it happens. But, it just can't happen to much and especially not too much in little clans and such as you once were.
Remember, don't judge. Let me be the judge because my judgment is perfect.
Otherwise, I will have to judge you.
And, there are rooms in my house for everybody.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
44 Doors in Hell
This was one of the most telling and strange times for me. I had been arrested, again, I can't even remember for what this time, but I was in the down town Vancouver police lock up for the night.
I was by myself in my own little cell with a blanket and a mattress on the floor. I had learned before that if you say you feel suicidal when the cops are booking you in they have to segregate you from the rest of the riffraff they have in general cells that night and if you are good they will also give you a blanket and a mattress. Otherwise they toss you into a cell with a bunch of other losers and no soft and warm amenities.
The place was raucous that night. Even from my segregated cell in a closed off little loop of four segregated cells away from the general population I could hear them. The other prisoners were yelling and screaming and laughing about who knows what. It was loud.
That night Satan himself came to keep me entertained in my cell. While we did have to have a serious discussion between us the rest of the night was absolutely, downright hilarious. You just don't know how funny Satan can be till you meet him.
He came to me as a big green dragon with acrid plumes of sulfur coming from his nostrils, curling up towards the ceiling of the jail cell. And, of course he lied to me right of the bat. He always lies to me every time he comes. This time he told me he was my new friend Joker whom I had just met down town. It took me awhile to figure this out. It was Satan not my friend Joker playing mind games on me and telling stories about some of the features of hell.
I was by myself in my own little cell with a blanket and a mattress on the floor. I had learned before that if you say you feel suicidal when the cops are booking you in they have to segregate you from the rest of the riffraff they have in general cells that night and if you are good they will also give you a blanket and a mattress. Otherwise they toss you into a cell with a bunch of other losers and no soft and warm amenities.
The place was raucous that night. Even from my segregated cell in a closed off little loop of four segregated cells away from the general population I could hear them. The other prisoners were yelling and screaming and laughing about who knows what. It was loud.
That night Satan himself came to keep me entertained in my cell. While we did have to have a serious discussion between us the rest of the night was absolutely, downright hilarious. You just don't know how funny Satan can be till you meet him.
He came to me as a big green dragon with acrid plumes of sulfur coming from his nostrils, curling up towards the ceiling of the jail cell. And, of course he lied to me right of the bat. He always lies to me every time he comes. This time he told me he was my new friend Joker whom I had just met down town. It took me awhile to figure this out. It was Satan not my friend Joker playing mind games on me and telling stories about some of the features of hell.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
God is tasered on Christmas day
God, in me, was walking to my mom's house on Christmas morning when I was tasered by the police over a false police call.
I was walking all the way from Surrey to Heather street in Vancouver. It's a long walk. A really long walk. But, like usual I was on speed so this kind of long walking was very normal to me. I had been at Val's house all night long smoking speed and getting laid, Val is one crazy fuck and it's hard for me to think about taking speed without going to see Val at least once. (Val and I fucked for 72 hours straight before. We fucked for so long that I had to start using margarine from the fridge as lubricant. It was amazing!)
The walk from Val's apartment in Surrey to Vancouver is part of a system of hikers paths and bike trails that start in Vancouver around Stanley Park and end up way out in the various other cities that connect to Vancouver. I was talking this trail.
I started out on the trail very early in the morning so that I could be at my mom's by about 10 or 11 am. I was dressed in some of my very best clothing for the occasion. I had brought them with me to Val's knowing that was my plan for the next morning. Clothes then were joke. I had found and collected so much clothing over the last year riding my bike and raiding the big blue garbage dumpsters lining the alleys of Vancouver and surrounding areas that I had 5 giant city recycling bins in my apartment full of clothing and still it wasn't enough. Of all this I had picked out some the very finest stuff to wear.
I walked over the bridge from Surrey to New West which led to a trail that took along the waterfront towards the train station. Along the way and by the railroad tracks yet still on the path and certainly not on any private property owned by the rail road nor anybody else I saw what looked like a small pile of discarded clothing.
It was raining. I had no bag or backpack with me. I was on my way to spend Christmas at my mother's house. It was 8 o'clock in the morning Christmas day. But, because of my compulsive addiction to collecting all the discarded clothing that I came across on my meth journeys I just couldn't help but stop to take a look at them. They looked like a nice pile of work clothes. A jacket, maybe a shirt a couple pairs of jeans.
I grabbed a stick and started to poke at them. Usually, I would just dive right in there with my hands and start inspecting the condition of my finds to see if it was worth it to take them. But, I had my best Sunday dress on so I was a lot more careful. I was already wet from the rain and I didn't want to get any spoiled clothing goo on myself before I went to my mothers to celebrate Christmas.
I picked at the pile and managed to turn over the jacket and lift up one of the shirts. They must have been there for a very long time because as I rattled the shirt at the end of the stick it began to fall apart like wet tissue. That was the end of that. I was not going to bother these.
I began to walk back to the trail, a distance of about 15 feet, from the log that the clothes lay on back through the giant mud puddle I had to carefully traverse by steeping on my heels and picking out elevated spots to skip to when about halfway back I heard,
"Lie Down!',
and, looking up I saw a cop directing to me to lay down on the spot. I said,
"I can't. I don't want to lie down in a puddle".
He commanded me again,
"Get on the Ground!".
Again, I replied.
"But, it's a puddle."
Then, without a moments more notice I was suddenly flipped over onto the ground straight into the giant mud puddle and I lay there electrocuted by a shot from his partners taser who had been creeping up from behind me.
I was walking all the way from Surrey to Heather street in Vancouver. It's a long walk. A really long walk. But, like usual I was on speed so this kind of long walking was very normal to me. I had been at Val's house all night long smoking speed and getting laid, Val is one crazy fuck and it's hard for me to think about taking speed without going to see Val at least once. (Val and I fucked for 72 hours straight before. We fucked for so long that I had to start using margarine from the fridge as lubricant. It was amazing!)
The walk from Val's apartment in Surrey to Vancouver is part of a system of hikers paths and bike trails that start in Vancouver around Stanley Park and end up way out in the various other cities that connect to Vancouver. I was talking this trail.
I started out on the trail very early in the morning so that I could be at my mom's by about 10 or 11 am. I was dressed in some of my very best clothing for the occasion. I had brought them with me to Val's knowing that was my plan for the next morning. Clothes then were joke. I had found and collected so much clothing over the last year riding my bike and raiding the big blue garbage dumpsters lining the alleys of Vancouver and surrounding areas that I had 5 giant city recycling bins in my apartment full of clothing and still it wasn't enough. Of all this I had picked out some the very finest stuff to wear.
I walked over the bridge from Surrey to New West which led to a trail that took along the waterfront towards the train station. Along the way and by the railroad tracks yet still on the path and certainly not on any private property owned by the rail road nor anybody else I saw what looked like a small pile of discarded clothing.
It was raining. I had no bag or backpack with me. I was on my way to spend Christmas at my mother's house. It was 8 o'clock in the morning Christmas day. But, because of my compulsive addiction to collecting all the discarded clothing that I came across on my meth journeys I just couldn't help but stop to take a look at them. They looked like a nice pile of work clothes. A jacket, maybe a shirt a couple pairs of jeans.
I grabbed a stick and started to poke at them. Usually, I would just dive right in there with my hands and start inspecting the condition of my finds to see if it was worth it to take them. But, I had my best Sunday dress on so I was a lot more careful. I was already wet from the rain and I didn't want to get any spoiled clothing goo on myself before I went to my mothers to celebrate Christmas.
I picked at the pile and managed to turn over the jacket and lift up one of the shirts. They must have been there for a very long time because as I rattled the shirt at the end of the stick it began to fall apart like wet tissue. That was the end of that. I was not going to bother these.
I began to walk back to the trail, a distance of about 15 feet, from the log that the clothes lay on back through the giant mud puddle I had to carefully traverse by steeping on my heels and picking out elevated spots to skip to when about halfway back I heard,
"Lie Down!',
and, looking up I saw a cop directing to me to lay down on the spot. I said,
"I can't. I don't want to lie down in a puddle".
He commanded me again,
"Get on the Ground!".
Again, I replied.
"But, it's a puddle."
Then, without a moments more notice I was suddenly flipped over onto the ground straight into the giant mud puddle and I lay there electrocuted by a shot from his partners taser who had been creeping up from behind me.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The use of the pronoun I vs God
This book will take on a whole new dimension and more powerful and significant meaning if I change the personal pronoun of I to God, and me to the Lord etc. We'll see. I'll try. But, definitely something to remember for the edits.
The story is after all His. In me.
The story is after all His. In me.
The last time I watched television
The last time I watched television when I began taking speed I saw president Bush waving on a big navy war craft heralding the triumph of our war in Iraq. Which is funny because for the next 3 years I had no idea that the country had gone back to war against Afghanistan. Even though I was in Canada and they joined us in this war I was so high and so oblivious to anything else in my world except my bike and riding my bike and doing things on my bike etc. that I thought America had successfully ended the war and gone home.
I even emailed out a series of heartfelt congratulations letters in the name of the Hells Angels MC and Sonny Barger to all my usual contacts around the world. Man, was I high.
Later on this limited knowledge of our worlds events would come back to haunt me and possibly even the turning events of the world that I wish sometimes had not happened. But, so it is.
I even emailed out a series of heartfelt congratulations letters in the name of the Hells Angels MC and Sonny Barger to all my usual contacts around the world. Man, was I high.
Later on this limited knowledge of our worlds events would come back to haunt me and possibly even the turning events of the world that I wish sometimes had not happened. But, so it is.
The Seven Deadly Pyschiatric Disorders That Require Big Pharma Intervention
Like a Good Neighbor Big Pharma is There.The seven disorders that need to be corrected are: wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. They need to be "corrected" in humankind because the corruption of Satan and evil was too powerful a force for humankind to defend against.
Thus, you are imperfect. And, this imperfection now requires the Lord's work, grace and blessing to undue. Satan, in his diabolical ways has corrupted you not only in your mind but in your body too. Only Big Pharma offers an immediate albeit temporary solution to the damage done by Satan and his demons.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Because, we were getting evicted
Because, we were getting evicted from that really nice little house that Carolyn had on the corner of Thurlow and Davie I decided to make up some fliers looking room mates to help us pay the outstanding rent.
I went to the community center down in the middle of Vancouver's west end, the one with the little used clothing store I use to frequent and sat down at one of the free computers for use on the ground floor. I opened up the Wordpad program and began to think out the wording of my ad.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the computer station beside me had suddenly been occupied by some strange person who really seemed more intent on reading what I was writing about on Wordpad than anything else he should have been doing besides obviously watching me.
I was quite use to this by now, having spent the better half of the last three years smoking copious quantities speed daily and noticing more and more how the people of Vancouver seemed to be following me a lot. I was getting quite good at ignoring it, the paranoia when it seemed appropriate. But, at the same time I always knew that it was true. These people, these weird little creeps, liked to follow me because I was so high all the time.
So, using the knowledge I learned in business college about word processing programs I crafted quite the nice little advertisement soliciting shared living arrangements to save the rent in our little heritage house on Davie street. All the while ignoring the peeping tom beside me while he watched me type getting more and more in a huff about something. I knew what it was. He was angry because I knew how to write a nice, professional ad. He was angry because I knew how to read. That's how petty this was in the end between me and the populace of Vancouver BC.
And, I reveled in it. I loved it. Always showing these people up who like to bother me with their time.
I typed it. After a long time dealing with the volunteer staff at the counter, who didn't like me either, because I was so stoned all the time when I was shopping upstairs, I finally printed a few copies and then I left. I went back to my gorgeous heritage house full of drug addicts smoking crystal meth and peeking out the windows of my house in the heart of one of down town Vancouver's most prestigious little neighborhoods.
I didn't post any of my ads. Not yet, I wanted to show them to Carolyn first and run this plan by her. We have to get rid of all the homeless crystal meth bums that had invaded the house. Carolyn let them all in when she was high, even though I had warned that crystal meth will make her feel quite charitable to all her 'new' crystal meth friends. But, please don't allow them to ever spend the night here because these are homeless run aways and bums who will never leave again if you do. And, that is what had happened. She started letting them stay overnight and now we had about thirty of them revolving around the house on a full time basis and not one of them paying the rent.
But, Carolyn was not home when I got back from trying to do something remotely responsible about the house. So, I had to wait.
And, then later on about seven o'clock in the evening, Carolyn was still gone, I had not posted any of my room mate wanted ads anywhere but only on the screen of that computer while I was being watched by some fucking troll, down at the community center, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door. There was a drunken, stinking, derelict bum who must have been dragged from an alley somewhere by the promise of a quick twenty bucks standing there.
He said, 'I heard, you were renting rooms'.
cont...
I went to the community center down in the middle of Vancouver's west end, the one with the little used clothing store I use to frequent and sat down at one of the free computers for use on the ground floor. I opened up the Wordpad program and began to think out the wording of my ad.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the computer station beside me had suddenly been occupied by some strange person who really seemed more intent on reading what I was writing about on Wordpad than anything else he should have been doing besides obviously watching me.
I was quite use to this by now, having spent the better half of the last three years smoking copious quantities speed daily and noticing more and more how the people of Vancouver seemed to be following me a lot. I was getting quite good at ignoring it, the paranoia when it seemed appropriate. But, at the same time I always knew that it was true. These people, these weird little creeps, liked to follow me because I was so high all the time.
So, using the knowledge I learned in business college about word processing programs I crafted quite the nice little advertisement soliciting shared living arrangements to save the rent in our little heritage house on Davie street. All the while ignoring the peeping tom beside me while he watched me type getting more and more in a huff about something. I knew what it was. He was angry because I knew how to write a nice, professional ad. He was angry because I knew how to read. That's how petty this was in the end between me and the populace of Vancouver BC.
And, I reveled in it. I loved it. Always showing these people up who like to bother me with their time.
I typed it. After a long time dealing with the volunteer staff at the counter, who didn't like me either, because I was so stoned all the time when I was shopping upstairs, I finally printed a few copies and then I left. I went back to my gorgeous heritage house full of drug addicts smoking crystal meth and peeking out the windows of my house in the heart of one of down town Vancouver's most prestigious little neighborhoods.
I didn't post any of my ads. Not yet, I wanted to show them to Carolyn first and run this plan by her. We have to get rid of all the homeless crystal meth bums that had invaded the house. Carolyn let them all in when she was high, even though I had warned that crystal meth will make her feel quite charitable to all her 'new' crystal meth friends. But, please don't allow them to ever spend the night here because these are homeless run aways and bums who will never leave again if you do. And, that is what had happened. She started letting them stay overnight and now we had about thirty of them revolving around the house on a full time basis and not one of them paying the rent.
But, Carolyn was not home when I got back from trying to do something remotely responsible about the house. So, I had to wait.
And, then later on about seven o'clock in the evening, Carolyn was still gone, I had not posted any of my room mate wanted ads anywhere but only on the screen of that computer while I was being watched by some fucking troll, down at the community center, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door. There was a drunken, stinking, derelict bum who must have been dragged from an alley somewhere by the promise of a quick twenty bucks standing there.
He said, 'I heard, you were renting rooms'.
cont...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Religion and Spirituality Links
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Police Steal My Bicycle
HOLY CRAP WAS I EVER PISSED. That is all I can say. It was my favorite bike. A Halloween orange and black GT Hard Rock. And, it was my pride and joy. Man, I loved that bike. It was Chachi's 200 Anniversary Special. The 200th bike that had Chachi had managed to pick up and ride because of his special relationship with his riding sponsors. And, he had sold it to me for a song. He needed a cell phone and I just happened to have the cash to buy him one that day and the deal was done. History was made in heaven. That was my favorite bike in the whole world and I learned nearly all the skills I acquired from practicing everyday of the week for months on end on that bike. I knew it like I know my mother.
So, when the police in Vancouver BC outright stole it from me because, I am only assuming in that I am giving the officer who took it the benefit of the doubt, that they were pissed off at me over my antics from the previous night. Otherwise, quite literally, this cop just came up to me in the parking lot beside the Pharmasave on the corner Davie and Thurlow street and mugged me for my bike. It has to be the doubt that any officer of the law in Vancouver, unless he was on acid, would bluntly steal my bike while on duty right out in front of the community police office in broad daylight.
So, I know why they took my bike. But, it was the fact that this officer of the law actually literally stole it from me that was the straw that ruptured the camels spleen.
I was utterly horrified that he actually broke the law in uniform before me. There are many points where this story really does take off and this was definitely one of them. I was never the same again. I can break the law. I'm not a cop. But, he can't. When this cop decided to actually steal my bicycle to get back at me for something I was doing to them into the wee morn hours to bother them he broke the law. That was utterly inexcusably and indefensible. I didn't care anymore.
I lost my faith that day. All at once it was gone. It was the contract; It was the social contract of Locke and Hume that I lost.
And, it can be that easy too, to tick off an angel. I can be just one tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny little shitty stupid fucking thing to you man. But, because we angels are perfect in that way it can mean the end of the world to us. And, when the cop illegitimately stole my bike from that day that's what it meant to me, war.
It has to be that way with us angels because we put the law above ourselves. That's just how we come shipped out of the box, perfect. If you break a contract with us, angels, that's it. It means war.
So, when the police in Vancouver BC outright stole it from me because, I am only assuming in that I am giving the officer who took it the benefit of the doubt, that they were pissed off at me over my antics from the previous night. Otherwise, quite literally, this cop just came up to me in the parking lot beside the Pharmasave on the corner Davie and Thurlow street and mugged me for my bike. It has to be the doubt that any officer of the law in Vancouver, unless he was on acid, would bluntly steal my bike while on duty right out in front of the community police office in broad daylight.
So, I know why they took my bike. But, it was the fact that this officer of the law actually literally stole it from me that was the straw that ruptured the camels spleen.
I was utterly horrified that he actually broke the law in uniform before me. There are many points where this story really does take off and this was definitely one of them. I was never the same again. I can break the law. I'm not a cop. But, he can't. When this cop decided to actually steal my bicycle to get back at me for something I was doing to them into the wee morn hours to bother them he broke the law. That was utterly inexcusably and indefensible. I didn't care anymore.
I lost my faith that day. All at once it was gone. It was the contract; It was the social contract of Locke and Hume that I lost.
And, it can be that easy too, to tick off an angel. I can be just one tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny little shitty stupid fucking thing to you man. But, because we angels are perfect in that way it can mean the end of the world to us. And, when the cop illegitimately stole my bike from that day that's what it meant to me, war.
It has to be that way with us angels because we put the law above ourselves. That's just how we come shipped out of the box, perfect. If you break a contract with us, angels, that's it. It means war.
This is a pivotal scene. Needs ore exposition of how I was becoming. Something like this; Here I am an ambassador from heaven and you steal my bike? Like WTF plebe? You have to be a little more prepared that anyone of you may meet Him in any fucked up mangled form he wants. And, you better get it right. Or else He is just gonna freak out man. I mean that's what he's like. Read the book. He freaks out man. Like He literally just fucking freaks the fuck out if you don't get it right. That's kinda what I felt like around then. Like, 'Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, I know already this is just not gonna do it for him.'
The day I figured out what was wrong with you
No, I meant the day I figured out what is wrong with me, lol. But, it could be taken either way in my eyes. I have narcolepsy. It is a rare sleep disorder that causes one to essentially never sleep properly. And, you can't imagine the difficulties the symptoms of this condition presented in my life that made my life completely unmanageable and utterly by my own emotional reckoning of it, devastated. Just completely and utterly devastated in the eyes of the poor little boy who had to grow up with this condition, unknown to him and unknown to the other people around him in his shattered little world of inconsistency and abysmal failures in every sense of what is normally expected of a bright little boy otherwise. I felt sorry for Jesus as I had to watch him cry in the absolutely still darkness of the second coming of his life. The devil had a duty to uphold the prophecy of his dark world but he did not have to be cruel. And, he was cruel. Phillip Billy was cruel.
God had also a duty to come to this world and experience all the pain within it. But, who knew that it would be so hard for this little guy, this little super trooper of ours, as he tried to comprehend what the only the darkness and I as God up above in a circle of angels knew. His emotional pain and suffering was absolutely necessary and only accomplished if he was suspended in the darkness without a light to realize why his surreal pain was not normal. And, he almost broke through the darkness to the light. Several times in his life he would proclaim to know that he was Jesus only to be ridiculed. It was a very sad but nonetheless a very necessary event in the fruition of God's very serious plan for all of humanity. Narcolepsy was the only way to keep our god man animated enough to live his life yet still remain at bay.
God had also a duty to come to this world and experience all the pain within it. But, who knew that it would be so hard for this little guy, this little super trooper of ours, as he tried to comprehend what the only the darkness and I as God up above in a circle of angels knew. His emotional pain and suffering was absolutely necessary and only accomplished if he was suspended in the darkness without a light to realize why his surreal pain was not normal. And, he almost broke through the darkness to the light. Several times in his life he would proclaim to know that he was Jesus only to be ridiculed. It was a very sad but nonetheless a very necessary event in the fruition of God's very serious plan for all of humanity. Narcolepsy was the only way to keep our god man animated enough to live his life yet still remain at bay.
Monday, February 7, 2011
I remember when God condemned Canada to hell.
I am living now about a block away from the area of Vancouver BC called the downtown east side from where the majority of the victims found butchered and fed to farm animals on Willy Pickton's farm came from. And, I remember the day that God himself came down to this part of town with me or, more literally in me, this was after Jesus had left me for heaven, and instantly God completely freaked out.
I mean like He literally freaked right the fuck out. It was unbelievable. He had me writing emails and letters to all the governments in the world telling them of the consequences, if any be, to them, if he ever caught anyone one of them even trying to run anything even remotely similar to this very, very fucking illegal modern day Sodom and/or Gomorrah called the downtown east side of Vancouver BC. In a heartbeat He condemned the entire modern country of Canada, minus a few judicious exclusions like the native Indians and the Canadian military, straight to fucking hell. He called Canada the Anti-Christ - a system of hopelessness.
He had me writing to all the governments of the world, through automated email software, the horrors of crossing the legal line both in heaven and hell of Satan's touchstone of evil. He had me telling them, all the governments of this world, just what will happen to any country that happens to rub themselves up against the touchstone of evil and how quickly God's angel will come to both defend the honor of Satan's possession and avenge the infraction against our Lord God.
He went on and on and on for weeks into months and even years on this topic, even long after I had informed G-d of the possible conflicts of interest that His letter writing campaign, through me, might cause some of the other nations that he does care for and consequently sequestered the rest of His campaign to sending messages finally to the CIA and the FBI only. But, you have to imagine that behind all the world's scenes there I was writing to all the world's media and all the world's governments and all the worlds police departments, in the first person of God, his utter shock and horror and disdain and impending wrath over the rampant, overt and highly suspicious drug abuse in this neighborhood called the downtown east side of Vancouver, Canada.
And, all the horrible things he had to say about a country, let alone a province or even a city that had allowed the actual being of the systemic Anti-Christ to become on their watch. All, the horrible things He has said that He is going to do to this country and then proved quite literally how I was emailing out the media of the world at that time. And, then G-d and I would watch.
We would watch their exquisite and squirming faces on the local news as they began to realize that I was, this ostensible wannabe Hells Angels Motorcycle Club member, (which is another story all it's own and in fully God's way utterly incredible till it happens to you and painful), also sending these biblical notices of contractual termination, alongside my emails of the revelation of the Holy Anointing Oil as indeed a primitive form Crystal Meth along with Manna and, in prophetically good form and ultimate timing, giving me the credibility and authority to pen such notices, behind the scenes no less, that God himself is no longer going to save Canada nor any Canadians from His Wrath because it is in and of itself become the biblical Anti-Christ. Because of the downtown east side of Vancouver BC and what ultimately must have have happened outside the Pickton farm before any of these women showed up the dead for an untimely burial and disposal from public and prying eyes God has condemned all of Canada to hell, period. Case closed. Judgment delivered. In real time. By the angel of God. Me.
And, ultimately all believable if you where there to follow all my letters to the powers that be in this world in the order that I sent them so that the recipients may know that indeed Christ, as I, have both come and gone, as is written, and all that is left is the flesh and blood of God in which His spirit does dwell, unabashed. In the same way now that I am going to write this book so that anyone who reads this will always know the truth of my second coming and the reality of the judgment rendered by me, Jesus Christ, in heaven above now, in regards to Canada and, the many others who are in violation of simple hope and thus in fact Anti-Christ.
And, of course what can be done about that before my spirit does deliver my fathers wrath against you.
I mean like He literally freaked right the fuck out. It was unbelievable. He had me writing emails and letters to all the governments in the world telling them of the consequences, if any be, to them, if he ever caught anyone one of them even trying to run anything even remotely similar to this very, very fucking illegal modern day Sodom and/or Gomorrah called the downtown east side of Vancouver BC. In a heartbeat He condemned the entire modern country of Canada, minus a few judicious exclusions like the native Indians and the Canadian military, straight to fucking hell. He called Canada the Anti-Christ - a system of hopelessness.
He had me writing to all the governments of the world, through automated email software, the horrors of crossing the legal line both in heaven and hell of Satan's touchstone of evil. He had me telling them, all the governments of this world, just what will happen to any country that happens to rub themselves up against the touchstone of evil and how quickly God's angel will come to both defend the honor of Satan's possession and avenge the infraction against our Lord God.
He went on and on and on for weeks into months and even years on this topic, even long after I had informed G-d of the possible conflicts of interest that His letter writing campaign, through me, might cause some of the other nations that he does care for and consequently sequestered the rest of His campaign to sending messages finally to the CIA and the FBI only. But, you have to imagine that behind all the world's scenes there I was writing to all the world's media and all the world's governments and all the worlds police departments, in the first person of God, his utter shock and horror and disdain and impending wrath over the rampant, overt and highly suspicious drug abuse in this neighborhood called the downtown east side of Vancouver, Canada.
And, all the horrible things he had to say about a country, let alone a province or even a city that had allowed the actual being of the systemic Anti-Christ to become on their watch. All, the horrible things He has said that He is going to do to this country and then proved quite literally how I was emailing out the media of the world at that time. And, then G-d and I would watch.
We would watch their exquisite and squirming faces on the local news as they began to realize that I was, this ostensible wannabe Hells Angels Motorcycle Club member, (which is another story all it's own and in fully God's way utterly incredible till it happens to you and painful), also sending these biblical notices of contractual termination, alongside my emails of the revelation of the Holy Anointing Oil as indeed a primitive form Crystal Meth along with Manna and, in prophetically good form and ultimate timing, giving me the credibility and authority to pen such notices, behind the scenes no less, that God himself is no longer going to save Canada nor any Canadians from His Wrath because it is in and of itself become the biblical Anti-Christ. Because of the downtown east side of Vancouver BC and what ultimately must have have happened outside the Pickton farm before any of these women showed up the dead for an untimely burial and disposal from public and prying eyes God has condemned all of Canada to hell, period. Case closed. Judgment delivered. In real time. By the angel of God. Me.
And, ultimately all believable if you where there to follow all my letters to the powers that be in this world in the order that I sent them so that the recipients may know that indeed Christ, as I, have both come and gone, as is written, and all that is left is the flesh and blood of God in which His spirit does dwell, unabashed. In the same way now that I am going to write this book so that anyone who reads this will always know the truth of my second coming and the reality of the judgment rendered by me, Jesus Christ, in heaven above now, in regards to Canada and, the many others who are in violation of simple hope and thus in fact Anti-Christ.
And, of course what can be done about that before my spirit does deliver my fathers wrath against you.
I am all Hopped Up on Goofballs
I had a great day today. I got my disability benefits reinstated and I went and got my prescription for Modafinil filled at the pharmacy. (Thank you to my great doctors at Dr. Murphy's clinic on Granville Street).
So, I am all hopped up on my stimulant medications and can now think and write clearly. It's been about three or four days now that I have gone without stimulant medication and I have been reluctant to add any more scenes to my book for fear that in that stupor of half wake/half sleep I cannot write comprehensibly. I feel so much better knowing that I can think straight.
I read some reviews of books in the Georgia Straight and the Westender, a couple of local and free rags here in Vancouver, and I have been inspired somewhat by what I have read about other peoples writing.
I am having a problem giving this book a traditional narrative structure because it is, for the most part, not a novel but, a memoir or a biography. Having read the review of the book Soul Mining written by Daniel Lanois and reviewed by Alexander Varty in the Georgia Straight has reminded me that a book such as mine does not have to be altogether in any order but, can also be a collection of memories written as haphazardly as the author of Soul Mining, Daniel Lanois does in his collection of memoirs.
That is great news for me. As, more and more parts of this book come to me in any particular order while I am sitting on the bus or waiting in my doctors or going to the store. I am always saying to myself 'Oh, that's good. That's going in the book' but, on coming back to my blog later to add all those different thoughts, like this one, they have no narrative structure to fill.
Thus, many go unwritten as I look to my my list of scenes and realize that there is no room for these soliloquies alongside the structure of the story. Thank G-d for the blog. It makes adding a collection of thoughts possible as I drive the narrative forward.
In keeping with my new rituals of adding at least the beginning of one new scene a day to this book of mine I am going to review my list of scenes to write and add another one right now. See you in the next post.
So, I am all hopped up on my stimulant medications and can now think and write clearly. It's been about three or four days now that I have gone without stimulant medication and I have been reluctant to add any more scenes to my book for fear that in that stupor of half wake/half sleep I cannot write comprehensibly. I feel so much better knowing that I can think straight.
I read some reviews of books in the Georgia Straight and the Westender, a couple of local and free rags here in Vancouver, and I have been inspired somewhat by what I have read about other peoples writing.
I am having a problem giving this book a traditional narrative structure because it is, for the most part, not a novel but, a memoir or a biography. Having read the review of the book Soul Mining written by Daniel Lanois and reviewed by Alexander Varty in the Georgia Straight has reminded me that a book such as mine does not have to be altogether in any order but, can also be a collection of memories written as haphazardly as the author of Soul Mining, Daniel Lanois does in his collection of memoirs.
That is great news for me. As, more and more parts of this book come to me in any particular order while I am sitting on the bus or waiting in my doctors or going to the store. I am always saying to myself 'Oh, that's good. That's going in the book' but, on coming back to my blog later to add all those different thoughts, like this one, they have no narrative structure to fill.
Thus, many go unwritten as I look to my my list of scenes and realize that there is no room for these soliloquies alongside the structure of the story. Thank G-d for the blog. It makes adding a collection of thoughts possible as I drive the narrative forward.
In keeping with my new rituals of adding at least the beginning of one new scene a day to this book of mine I am going to review my list of scenes to write and add another one right now. See you in the next post.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
I'm all settled into my new place in Canada
It's Saturday the 5th of February 2011 and I have already spent two nights here in my new place. So far so good. The internet works, the kitchen works, the shower, the toilet, everything seems to be in order for me to be able to keep writing this book. I could use my meds though. I have been through this before and have actually swore to never go through this again. So, today, tomorrow or Monday I have to get to the doctor's office to get my prescription for Modafinil.
I haven't been able to stay awake since they ran out and my appetite is starting to creep up on me and I certainly don't feel altogether alert nor awake. Mind you it has been a bit refreshing to be off from stimulants for two days in a row now but I am already missing the better feeling of normal that my pills give me.
I'm not even sure that I want to do much more than add to my journal during this time. I know how hard and confusing it is to try and concentrate half asleep. We'll see. I am still so eager to write.
I haven't been able to stay awake since they ran out and my appetite is starting to creep up on me and I certainly don't feel altogether alert nor awake. Mind you it has been a bit refreshing to be off from stimulants for two days in a row now but I am already missing the better feeling of normal that my pills give me.
I'm not even sure that I want to do much more than add to my journal during this time. I know how hard and confusing it is to try and concentrate half asleep. We'll see. I am still so eager to write.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I can just imagine the CIA...
I can just imagine the CIA trying to explain Barack Obama that the Lord had just emailed us again, lol.
It would probably go something like this,
'Um, sir. We have reason to believe that the Lord Our God, the second coming has been emailing us his thoughts and opinions on His Second Coming' Can you imagine? Don't laugh too hard dear reader because that's just what I've done. All of the evidence and experiences I relate here I have also related in the past to the CIA and even the FBI. God bless the USA.
So, that's why I emailed them. Just to let them know that I had finally come and that everything was in fact and, not in fiction, indeed, both real and very true.
It would probably go something like this,
'Um, sir. We have reason to believe that the Lord Our God, the second coming has been emailing us his thoughts and opinions on His Second Coming' Can you imagine? Don't laugh too hard dear reader because that's just what I've done. All of the evidence and experiences I relate here I have also related in the past to the CIA and even the FBI. God bless the USA.
So, that's why I emailed them. Just to let them know that I had finally come and that everything was in fact and, not in fiction, indeed, both real and very true.
The Police Round Up the Homeless
I was in Vancouver BC walking around the corner by the drop in center on Seymour and Helmcken street when I ran headlong into a squadron of Vancouver Police Department officers in full riot gear marching in formation while rounding up the homeless people that where in the area and having them line up facing against the brick wall of the drop in center. Now, for some reason I completely freaked out. Not on the spot. On the spot I just kept walking down the street and they let me go by. But, in my mind I had serious flashbacks of Nazi Germany and the police there doing the same thing to the Jews and homeless vagrants, lining them up against a wall and shooting them. Which is strange because obviously I am too young to have ever experienced that crime of genocide in person. But, my father was still old enough to just remember enough of WWII Berlin in Germany to have told me the stories. So, this is what must have triggered in my mind. But, it was so real and so life like as I could hear the police shouting in German and the sobbing and wailing of their victims as they lined them up against that wall.
For some reason I knew I had to stop this police action.
For some reason I knew I had to stop this police action.
I have a new address
I just got back from securing a place for me to live in Chinatown. It's not much; just a room with a nice bed, a fridge and a desk. The restroom and kitchen is down the hall. But, it's quiet which is what I need to concentrate on this book.Plus, it has cable vision and internet included which is a major bonus to me because those bills can get quite high if I have to pay for them on my own. I have the key in my pocket and can move my stuff from this hotel to the new place anytime. I feel great!
You know last night I exercised one of my unique abilities as the angel of god, I prayed to heaven and spoke to Jesus, who also is myself consequently, but still up in heaven high above, and spoke to him about my feelings of insecurity about not having a place to be after this Thursday. And, my general feelings of anxiety. But, he agreed to lead me as the spirit in the flesh to a safe haven today. And, that has happened. As well my feelings of dread and anxiety which I get from the Ritalin sometimes has gone away. In fact the feelings went away immediately as we talked last night. With the end of the apostasy and the beginning of His, Jesus' reign now about to commence any day soon now I suggest to more people to keep praying to God. Now, finally after all this time the people will begin to see the immediate results of their prayers to heaven. Even me the spirit in the flesh has the opportunity to physically see and feel the effects of my prayers answered daily.
It's such an exciting time. And, again through quiet prayer I am so glad that Jesus took away my pain and lead me to a safe haven to complete my work. Prayer, I suggest you use it. Thank you JC. Amen.
You know last night I exercised one of my unique abilities as the angel of god, I prayed to heaven and spoke to Jesus, who also is myself consequently, but still up in heaven high above, and spoke to him about my feelings of insecurity about not having a place to be after this Thursday. And, my general feelings of anxiety. But, he agreed to lead me as the spirit in the flesh to a safe haven today. And, that has happened. As well my feelings of dread and anxiety which I get from the Ritalin sometimes has gone away. In fact the feelings went away immediately as we talked last night. With the end of the apostasy and the beginning of His, Jesus' reign now about to commence any day soon now I suggest to more people to keep praying to God. Now, finally after all this time the people will begin to see the immediate results of their prayers to heaven. Even me the spirit in the flesh has the opportunity to physically see and feel the effects of my prayers answered daily.
It's such an exciting time. And, again through quiet prayer I am so glad that Jesus took away my pain and lead me to a safe haven to complete my work. Prayer, I suggest you use it. Thank you JC. Amen.
The Importance of Labels
And, their inaccuracies. I am so torn between the country I love and my inability to be able to make it there financially considering the large fine I have for jaywalking and the considerable monies and time I owe for the possession of narcotics charge I accrued while there that I was tossing and turning all night knowing that in all likelihood I will not be going back to the United States to pay my fine and complete my Deferred Entry Judgment Drug Counseling Class to avoid a criminal record because in order to that I would have to literally live on the streets.
So, there I was just feeling horrible and guilty over this turn of events in my life when an angel said to me, 'But, you are a counter culture writer. And, this conflict is an important part of your life's work'. That in the end settled it for me. I can not go back to the United States until I have a book deal in hand and a lawyer to represent me in court at that time to deal with these problems.
But, I have never considered myself to be a counter culture anything. If at all I have always been upset over having to become a part of the different sub-cultures I have been around. I have always felt out of place. And, being diagnosed with the symptoms of narcolepsy and knowing the devastating effects they have had on my life I know now why I have always felt awkward being around these kinds of counter-culture elements. I am genuinely not a counter culture person. And, I have always sought to become more mainstream. I have always been fighting against the current of my disability and it's devastating social consequences for my life.
So, for me to be considered a part of a counter-culture sub-movement of any kind it will always be as a part of a group trying to get back towards the norms of society despite the societal odds imposed against them by whatever conditions they might have. I am not even aware that such a group exists. And, I have no intention of becoming the leader, by writing this book or any other means, of any counter culture movement of any kind that deviates from an albeit imperfect, yet workable social order. That is the whole purpose of my being God. To just have you sit tight and wait till I/we fix it. In the meantime don't go nuts here. Things take time. But, we are moving right along. JC and the Big Man are upstairs and I am here on the ground as His witness and that is exactly where we are supposed to be right now. I've never considered that to be counter culture.
But, maybe I am wrong. Only the art and culture critics of time will be able to answer that for you. But, you now have my own personal thoughts regarding it.
So, there I was just feeling horrible and guilty over this turn of events in my life when an angel said to me, 'But, you are a counter culture writer. And, this conflict is an important part of your life's work'. That in the end settled it for me. I can not go back to the United States until I have a book deal in hand and a lawyer to represent me in court at that time to deal with these problems.
But, I have never considered myself to be a counter culture anything. If at all I have always been upset over having to become a part of the different sub-cultures I have been around. I have always felt out of place. And, being diagnosed with the symptoms of narcolepsy and knowing the devastating effects they have had on my life I know now why I have always felt awkward being around these kinds of counter-culture elements. I am genuinely not a counter culture person. And, I have always sought to become more mainstream. I have always been fighting against the current of my disability and it's devastating social consequences for my life.
So, for me to be considered a part of a counter-culture sub-movement of any kind it will always be as a part of a group trying to get back towards the norms of society despite the societal odds imposed against them by whatever conditions they might have. I am not even aware that such a group exists. And, I have no intention of becoming the leader, by writing this book or any other means, of any counter culture movement of any kind that deviates from an albeit imperfect, yet workable social order. That is the whole purpose of my being God. To just have you sit tight and wait till I/we fix it. In the meantime don't go nuts here. Things take time. But, we are moving right along. JC and the Big Man are upstairs and I am here on the ground as His witness and that is exactly where we are supposed to be right now. I've never considered that to be counter culture.
But, maybe I am wrong. Only the art and culture critics of time will be able to answer that for you. But, you now have my own personal thoughts regarding it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Now is a stressful time for me
Being back here in Canada with only a few days left on my hotel account and not having a meeting with the disability office till Monday at 2pm is causing me quite a lot of stress. I really shouldn't worry. At the very least there is a hostel I can both afford and stay at till my meeting. Or, I can probably somehow swing the deposit on a room for rent till I receive my benefits check, presumably on Monday.
In the mean time all I have to keep my hopes afloat is this book. So, I added the scene 'Give him what he wants'. Everyday, I try and start fleshing out another scene from my list of scenes to write and everyday this book becomes closer and closer to the reality that I see for myself. This book and hopefully many more to come after it is the only hope I have for my future. It is the only way that I can how I may be able to reverse some of the tragedy that has befallen me due to the symptoms I suffer from narcolepsy. Not to mention the very odd and strange set of events that has led me to believe I am the Christ and now the messenger God's angel.
I bought a book to read for a dollar at the discount store called 'The Miracle Game' by Josef Skvorecky. So far it is about a teacher in Czechoslovakia sent to teach a class in language at a girls school. Reading always inspires me which is good because I feel so alone now trying to sort out my fractured life with the limited resources I have. But, writing always helps. I just wish I didn't feel so nervous. But, that is probably the Ritalin which won't be a problem after I see the doctor tomorrow or the day after because they don't prescribe me Ritalin here in Canada but Modafinil, which I can never recall feeling anxiety from.
In the mean time all I have to keep my hopes afloat is this book. So, I added the scene 'Give him what he wants'. Everyday, I try and start fleshing out another scene from my list of scenes to write and everyday this book becomes closer and closer to the reality that I see for myself. This book and hopefully many more to come after it is the only hope I have for my future. It is the only way that I can how I may be able to reverse some of the tragedy that has befallen me due to the symptoms I suffer from narcolepsy. Not to mention the very odd and strange set of events that has led me to believe I am the Christ and now the messenger God's angel.
I bought a book to read for a dollar at the discount store called 'The Miracle Game' by Josef Skvorecky. So far it is about a teacher in Czechoslovakia sent to teach a class in language at a girls school. Reading always inspires me which is good because I feel so alone now trying to sort out my fractured life with the limited resources I have. But, writing always helps. I just wish I didn't feel so nervous. But, that is probably the Ritalin which won't be a problem after I see the doctor tomorrow or the day after because they don't prescribe me Ritalin here in Canada but Modafinil, which I can never recall feeling anxiety from.
Give him whatever he wants
I was walking out of the Stanley hotel one day when by the main entrance across from the office sprawled on the floor was this guy who was crying. I knew him from before but, I never really knew anything about him. I was aware that he was a cocaine dealer of some sort who also had a room in the Stanley on the first floor and that was about it. I had never had a conversation with him, I had never bought any cocaine from him and in general I had always thought it best to avoid him because of his business. These type of people are generally business oriented and since I was not a cocaine user at the time I never really had any business with him. Needless to say I really didn't know him at all.
So, while he lay there sprawled on the floor sobbing I carefully stepped over and around him on my way out. But, he stopped me. I can't really recall what it was he was talking about. I was to learn later upon that he had been robbed of some 2000 dollars in cash and drugs from his room and that was what he was crying about. A young fella too, no more than maybe in his early twenties, he looked decent enough, he stopped me on the way out the door and through his sobbing and reluctance to talk to me about what his real problem was I could understand nothing about what he had stopped me for. He said, something to the effect of how little problems I seemed to have and considering what I was to hear later compared to him that was quite true. He also mentioned how he had scene me around the hotel and had always thought or heard that I was quite a solid fellow and that we most likely could or would have been friends under different circumstances. He also went on the talk about the people in general of the hotel to be untrustworthy bums and that somehow he had been screwed.
Only now I wish I might have paid more attention to him laying there on the ground pouring his heart out to me. If I only knew his sincerity for a true friend at that moment in his life. But, I was eager to get going and get on with whatever business I had in store for that day. And, as these stories go in retrospect I have no idea anymore what could have been so important that I had to leave him there crying about his life on the ground.
So, here is what I said, 'Give this man anything he wants'. Now, with what authority and to whom exactly I was speaking to about him is known only to me thus far. As it was those days and still now I was speaking with the authority of an angel, God's angel to be exact. And, I was speaking then, as I do still now from time to time, to the other angels who are always around me. In my haste to leave the building physically I said rather loudly and abruptly as in order to finish our rather awkward conversation, I said to the thin blue air around me, I said, 'Give this man whatever he wants'.
And, with that air of abrasiveness I got up and left the man sobbing on the floor. Whatever, it was that I had to do that day got done. In all likelihood I probably had a doctors appointment to make and that is why I was in such a hurry to leave on time. On the other hand I am not always a very sociable person when I am in those type of horrible surroundings like is at the Stanley hotel when I stayed there. I am always trying to find my way out of those types of situations and back to some world of normal decency that I can finally call home. And, as such I did not spend anytime at the Stanley hotel trying to make friends, nor connections nor anything else for that matter really but to stay there because I had no other place left to go.
But, anyways by the days end and by the time I came back to the hotel from whatever, presumably, had kept me from being with this man longer as he sobbed incoherently on the hotel lobby floor, he was dead. I don't remember his name but, apparently some time after I left and before I arrived again he had gone into his hotel room and hung himself with a belt from the light fixture. That poor young fella. Barely twenty five, handsome and popular as it were among the other tenants had hung himself over a 2000 dollar drug debt.
But, in private what stung was my rather rude comment to nobody it would seem and the way I had stepped over him to get out of there only to find out he had committed suicide because he couldn't name a single good friend in the Stanley. And, that is what he had confided in me. I don't know if I had been able to save him if I had stayed, maybe. But, it was my odd comment and my complete feeling of having the actual authority to command something like that to come about. My only condolences to him, his family and myself is that if that is truly what he wanted then, then through God's good grace as His messenger and angel of mercy, I am able to afford him such that he wanted knowing he has still then a safe passage to heaven above.
God bless his soul.
So, while he lay there sprawled on the floor sobbing I carefully stepped over and around him on my way out. But, he stopped me. I can't really recall what it was he was talking about. I was to learn later upon that he had been robbed of some 2000 dollars in cash and drugs from his room and that was what he was crying about. A young fella too, no more than maybe in his early twenties, he looked decent enough, he stopped me on the way out the door and through his sobbing and reluctance to talk to me about what his real problem was I could understand nothing about what he had stopped me for. He said, something to the effect of how little problems I seemed to have and considering what I was to hear later compared to him that was quite true. He also mentioned how he had scene me around the hotel and had always thought or heard that I was quite a solid fellow and that we most likely could or would have been friends under different circumstances. He also went on the talk about the people in general of the hotel to be untrustworthy bums and that somehow he had been screwed.
Only now I wish I might have paid more attention to him laying there on the ground pouring his heart out to me. If I only knew his sincerity for a true friend at that moment in his life. But, I was eager to get going and get on with whatever business I had in store for that day. And, as these stories go in retrospect I have no idea anymore what could have been so important that I had to leave him there crying about his life on the ground.
So, here is what I said, 'Give this man anything he wants'. Now, with what authority and to whom exactly I was speaking to about him is known only to me thus far. As it was those days and still now I was speaking with the authority of an angel, God's angel to be exact. And, I was speaking then, as I do still now from time to time, to the other angels who are always around me. In my haste to leave the building physically I said rather loudly and abruptly as in order to finish our rather awkward conversation, I said to the thin blue air around me, I said, 'Give this man whatever he wants'.
And, with that air of abrasiveness I got up and left the man sobbing on the floor. Whatever, it was that I had to do that day got done. In all likelihood I probably had a doctors appointment to make and that is why I was in such a hurry to leave on time. On the other hand I am not always a very sociable person when I am in those type of horrible surroundings like is at the Stanley hotel when I stayed there. I am always trying to find my way out of those types of situations and back to some world of normal decency that I can finally call home. And, as such I did not spend anytime at the Stanley hotel trying to make friends, nor connections nor anything else for that matter really but to stay there because I had no other place left to go.
But, anyways by the days end and by the time I came back to the hotel from whatever, presumably, had kept me from being with this man longer as he sobbed incoherently on the hotel lobby floor, he was dead. I don't remember his name but, apparently some time after I left and before I arrived again he had gone into his hotel room and hung himself with a belt from the light fixture. That poor young fella. Barely twenty five, handsome and popular as it were among the other tenants had hung himself over a 2000 dollar drug debt.
But, in private what stung was my rather rude comment to nobody it would seem and the way I had stepped over him to get out of there only to find out he had committed suicide because he couldn't name a single good friend in the Stanley. And, that is what he had confided in me. I don't know if I had been able to save him if I had stayed, maybe. But, it was my odd comment and my complete feeling of having the actual authority to command something like that to come about. My only condolences to him, his family and myself is that if that is truly what he wanted then, then through God's good grace as His messenger and angel of mercy, I am able to afford him such that he wanted knowing he has still then a safe passage to heaven above.
God bless his soul.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Jesus Goes Back to Heaven
This has to be one of the most startling moments in my life. In this scene I am laying down to sleep tucked away behind the living room in the little space that my mother had cleared away for me to stay in when I have this full blown vision of Jesus Christ leaving my body as a ball of heavenly light on his way back again to heaven after having passed his days of the second coming here in on this earth through me.
This was both eerie and odd. On the one hand it certainly confirmed in me a long standing belief that I just may be the Second Coming of Christ for all the odd things which I have been witness too. And, the strange feelings I have always had regarding this subject. Without any evidence it has always seemed to me to be some sort of personal knowledge that I am the Christ and that I am suppose to wait for various reasons for whatever is to come of it to come and not to tell anybody about it till it's time, like now for instance. And, it was eerie in that God was very, very angry about what had been happening to his little Jesus on earth so far. I mean so angry that he simply gave the keys to the doors to both heaven and hell and then turned his back on humanity and walked away.
But, you should have seen the shape the little ball of light that was Jesus left in. Sure, he was a beautiful ball of light of every color but, he was stuttering. It was like he was trying to say something but he had been beaten too hard, on this earth in this world, presumably by people at the hands of the influence of demons. But, whatever it was, he significantly could not get out a sentence because he kept stuttering and could not even finish the first word. Whatever it was he was trying to say could not be heard. And, God was angry, very, very angry. I don't know if the bible says anything about God turning his back on humanity and leaving or not. But, that is exactly what has appeared to have happened. And, I as the dutiful flesh of God I am here to testify to that and to be witness. This did happen that night.
After Jesus left to go back to heaven to begin his reign of 1000 years I was left with an interesting problem. Because, the soul of Jesus had just left from out of me as a man I had virtually no host. And, as it were the first one to come along out of the thin blue air to offer his assistance to me in that department was of course Satan in his guise as the demon Astaroth. This arrangement did not work out. Unfortunately for the demon Astaroth and Satan as well even the flesh of the Christ messiah rejected the host demon Satan. And, as a result in the short aftermath of Jesus returning to heaven and me being without a proper host I was quickly then hosted by the Lord himself but in His angelic form. I am now hosted by the Angel of God, as it were and as is prophecy by the end of the second testament, I am God in the spirit and in the flesh and blood of his son Jesus.
So, that is what happened to me that night that Jesus went back to heaven and the lord's angel came down from heaven to be me right before my very own fleshly eyes as the body of the man that all this is happening too.
This was both eerie and odd. On the one hand it certainly confirmed in me a long standing belief that I just may be the Second Coming of Christ for all the odd things which I have been witness too. And, the strange feelings I have always had regarding this subject. Without any evidence it has always seemed to me to be some sort of personal knowledge that I am the Christ and that I am suppose to wait for various reasons for whatever is to come of it to come and not to tell anybody about it till it's time, like now for instance. And, it was eerie in that God was very, very angry about what had been happening to his little Jesus on earth so far. I mean so angry that he simply gave the keys to the doors to both heaven and hell and then turned his back on humanity and walked away.
But, you should have seen the shape the little ball of light that was Jesus left in. Sure, he was a beautiful ball of light of every color but, he was stuttering. It was like he was trying to say something but he had been beaten too hard, on this earth in this world, presumably by people at the hands of the influence of demons. But, whatever it was, he significantly could not get out a sentence because he kept stuttering and could not even finish the first word. Whatever it was he was trying to say could not be heard. And, God was angry, very, very angry. I don't know if the bible says anything about God turning his back on humanity and leaving or not. But, that is exactly what has appeared to have happened. And, I as the dutiful flesh of God I am here to testify to that and to be witness. This did happen that night.
After Jesus left to go back to heaven to begin his reign of 1000 years I was left with an interesting problem. Because, the soul of Jesus had just left from out of me as a man I had virtually no host. And, as it were the first one to come along out of the thin blue air to offer his assistance to me in that department was of course Satan in his guise as the demon Astaroth. This arrangement did not work out. Unfortunately for the demon Astaroth and Satan as well even the flesh of the Christ messiah rejected the host demon Satan. And, as a result in the short aftermath of Jesus returning to heaven and me being without a proper host I was quickly then hosted by the Lord himself but in His angelic form. I am now hosted by the Angel of God, as it were and as is prophecy by the end of the second testament, I am God in the spirit and in the flesh and blood of his son Jesus.
So, that is what happened to me that night that Jesus went back to heaven and the lord's angel came down from heaven to be me right before my very own fleshly eyes as the body of the man that all this is happening too.
No SIM Card!
Can you believe I just spent 80 dollars on a new phone for here in Canada and it didn't come with the SIM card inside the package! Man, now I am gonna have to go all the way back to London Drugs where I got it from and get another one. Or, whatever they do when that happens. But, first I want to get in some good book time. I want to at least get a few new words in on whatever scene comes to mind. It's the only thing I seem to like doing now, is adding more to my book. That's good.
Well, I am back in Canada...
And, I am thinking over my options. They are not too hard. I just gotta an address from where to collect my disability pension and store my stuff while I go back to Cali to complete my DEJ program. You probably don't know what that is. I'll tell you someday soon, but I want to complete the course portion of the DEJ program before I make any further comments on that. (It's one of those biblical oddities of sorts that I have to complete in order to fully satisfy another prophecy. So, it is almost done. But, until I have completed the required course program regarding it I am in no position to make a judgment nor reveal what it is).
On another note; Thank God for my medications. I've been here since Friday night, and the long bus trip combined with the extra comfortable mattresses at the Howard Johnson on Kingsway in Vancouver BC left me unable to leave my bed all day Saturday. And, I fear only two Ritalin later have I been able to get up and at them this Sunday. I am going to run out of stimulants before I get back to California to cash my script so I may have to visit Dr. Murphy here in Vancouver on Granville st who can substitute a prescription for Modafinil to keep my awake till I can get back to the pharmacy in CA. At least I know as far as a substitute goes for a stronger stimulant Modafinil will do the trick and keep me mentally alert if not physically capable of getting all the things done that I need to get done here in this short one week visit.
Interesting to note too: The first night I arrived, the Friday, and bunked down in my bed at the Howard Johnson I could hear the Spirits screaming 'Murderers, Murderers, Murderers', into the night sky. It seemed much louder than anything I was hearing before I left and even louder than anything I have been witnessing in Los Angeles. I also remember the first time the Spirits began with the word, 'Murderers'. I was in LA doing my 'I am God Almighty etc...', bit when upon hearing the Spirits start with the word 'Murderers', I suggested that this might be a good phrase to use in other countries from around the world. I didn't specify which countries, I was just concerned for what I was doing in the USA which has much less to do with unsolved murders than anything else. And, I never heard from the Spirits again about that matter till I got here last Friday night and heard them going at it full steam ahead. It was nice. I was so happy for them, for us, for everybody. That is what judgment day is all about. So, I hope my presence here is not disturbing the work of other Angels in the midst of Vancouver BC crying out their honest appraisals of this society. It was so nice for me to be able to just sit and listen to other Angels serving the Lord without having to feel pressured to begin serving too. Kind of like a day off.
As for being in Vancouver, so far everything should work out fine for me. The only thing I have any reservations about is what kind of place I am going to be able to afford with the 375 dollars I am afforded by my disability pension. I want something safe and secure so that I can leave behind some of my belongings while I go back to California for at least a month but, probably two. And, then I want to be able to return to the same place and move back in having completed all the California things I needed to get done. I don't know if Vancouver BC offers this kind of accommodation at that price. No big deal mind you. It just means I will have to bring all of my belongings back to California with me and then when I get back at least I have a place but, then I will have to move again to something better. I won't know much more till I get on Craigslist and check. There is also no good reason for me to stay anywhere in the down town Vancouver area. So, one might assume that the farther away from the city I look the better and more reasonable the accommodations I find might be. But, we'll see. For today it's convenience, I don't have a car, timing and price.
On another note; Thank God for my medications. I've been here since Friday night, and the long bus trip combined with the extra comfortable mattresses at the Howard Johnson on Kingsway in Vancouver BC left me unable to leave my bed all day Saturday. And, I fear only two Ritalin later have I been able to get up and at them this Sunday. I am going to run out of stimulants before I get back to California to cash my script so I may have to visit Dr. Murphy here in Vancouver on Granville st who can substitute a prescription for Modafinil to keep my awake till I can get back to the pharmacy in CA. At least I know as far as a substitute goes for a stronger stimulant Modafinil will do the trick and keep me mentally alert if not physically capable of getting all the things done that I need to get done here in this short one week visit.
Interesting to note too: The first night I arrived, the Friday, and bunked down in my bed at the Howard Johnson I could hear the Spirits screaming 'Murderers, Murderers, Murderers', into the night sky. It seemed much louder than anything I was hearing before I left and even louder than anything I have been witnessing in Los Angeles. I also remember the first time the Spirits began with the word, 'Murderers'. I was in LA doing my 'I am God Almighty etc...', bit when upon hearing the Spirits start with the word 'Murderers', I suggested that this might be a good phrase to use in other countries from around the world. I didn't specify which countries, I was just concerned for what I was doing in the USA which has much less to do with unsolved murders than anything else. And, I never heard from the Spirits again about that matter till I got here last Friday night and heard them going at it full steam ahead. It was nice. I was so happy for them, for us, for everybody. That is what judgment day is all about. So, I hope my presence here is not disturbing the work of other Angels in the midst of Vancouver BC crying out their honest appraisals of this society. It was so nice for me to be able to just sit and listen to other Angels serving the Lord without having to feel pressured to begin serving too. Kind of like a day off.
As for being in Vancouver, so far everything should work out fine for me. The only thing I have any reservations about is what kind of place I am going to be able to afford with the 375 dollars I am afforded by my disability pension. I want something safe and secure so that I can leave behind some of my belongings while I go back to California for at least a month but, probably two. And, then I want to be able to return to the same place and move back in having completed all the California things I needed to get done. I don't know if Vancouver BC offers this kind of accommodation at that price. No big deal mind you. It just means I will have to bring all of my belongings back to California with me and then when I get back at least I have a place but, then I will have to move again to something better. I won't know much more till I get on Craigslist and check. There is also no good reason for me to stay anywhere in the down town Vancouver area. So, one might assume that the farther away from the city I look the better and more reasonable the accommodations I find might be. But, we'll see. For today it's convenience, I don't have a car, timing and price.
Friday, January 28, 2011
While riding the bus to Canada
I can hear the little demons who can imitate people and talk about they are thinking depicting someone at the CIA I presume having this conversation with someone else. It goes somewhat like this...
'You mean he has a ship to shore radio?
'Yes, in his head'.
And, it's true. That is what the Christ Messiahs do. Communicate with God like little outposts here on this world and in this earth. That's why am always suggesting to them that what we do is hook me up to whatever would seem appropriate, I guess a steady amphetamine drip, and just let me start talking and answering the questions that need to be answered before we go on this one thousand year bender of a cycle called the Messianic age. Also known as the end times, the apocalypse, the battle of Armageddon and the wrath of God. That's what I would do if I was in your boat.
There is no way that I am going to be able to answer all of the complicated questions man might have before he ventures of into the final leg of his journey here to earth unless someone is interested enough to give me the things I require to be able to answer any other questions they might have. And, just simple economic stuff. But, I think I maybe misjudging the abilities of man to come forward to their God as a man again in this age and treat him like the very important teacher/person that he is. Which is alright. And, you always have the presence of the living word present now again after the containing of Satan to guide you like I always do through your troubling end times. And, most of it I will put in this book anyways for the whole world to see and read regardless. It won't be as easy though because this will also be Norman's tale as well, the Christ which we hid so well from public view this time around that I think only very few of you might ever pick this book up of the shelf and truly cry out 'Oh My Lord'.
'You mean he has a ship to shore radio?
'Yes, in his head'.
And, it's true. That is what the Christ Messiahs do. Communicate with God like little outposts here on this world and in this earth. That's why am always suggesting to them that what we do is hook me up to whatever would seem appropriate, I guess a steady amphetamine drip, and just let me start talking and answering the questions that need to be answered before we go on this one thousand year bender of a cycle called the Messianic age. Also known as the end times, the apocalypse, the battle of Armageddon and the wrath of God. That's what I would do if I was in your boat.
There is no way that I am going to be able to answer all of the complicated questions man might have before he ventures of into the final leg of his journey here to earth unless someone is interested enough to give me the things I require to be able to answer any other questions they might have. And, just simple economic stuff. But, I think I maybe misjudging the abilities of man to come forward to their God as a man again in this age and treat him like the very important teacher/person that he is. Which is alright. And, you always have the presence of the living word present now again after the containing of Satan to guide you like I always do through your troubling end times. And, most of it I will put in this book anyways for the whole world to see and read regardless. It won't be as easy though because this will also be Norman's tale as well, the Christ which we hid so well from public view this time around that I think only very few of you might ever pick this book up of the shelf and truly cry out 'Oh My Lord'.
Just taking a little trip up to Canada
Going to see the family and maybe my son for the first time. So excited. He is such a cute little feller.
I also got lots of options I can think about right now. I got some money and there is a course I want to take in California to be a production assistant but, I need a car. Then there is also the question of what to do about the pension money I receive in Canada for being disabled. I would like to be able to collect it again on an on going basis. I haven't collected any money for almost a year now that I have been gone. I'm not sure what the benefit allows if I want to both collect and leave out of country. I may not be able to that. So, I may want to also maintain a residence here in Canada and commute back and forth between here and LA. On the other hand as far as the book writing goes it doesn't really matter which country I am in when I write it. I just need a safe, clean, affordable spot etc. So, if I cannot maintain my housing in LA on the income I am afforded by my California General Relief then I may have to consider the prospect of coming back to Canada till I get the book done. I'd really like to be able to take that course for film work in California though and get my foot in the door down there that way and start settling in. Either way I should be back in CA in about a week and will definitely be staying there for the next three months that I have left in the Weingart Hotel.
It would be nice though to come back in a car or maybe even on a bike. I've thought about getting a small camper van too. I could live in that and take the course and get a place. But, we'll see. Probably the best is for me to reinstate my disability claim here in Canada, collect what I can and save it while I am gone back down to California the three months. We'll see.
What I would really like to be able to do is collect my money and live in Mexico. But, I think that may be a more long term goal. I have to work out my priorities. One, finish what I started in LA which take the three more months. And, two keep adding to the book.
We just left Tacoma and are due at the Vancouver Greyhound in 5 hours. It will be 7:30 pm and Ninel and Klaus will be there to pick me up. Klaus has offered to help me pay for a hotel room for a week and that is where I will be staying. How kind of him. That was awful nice of him to do that.
I also got lots of options I can think about right now. I got some money and there is a course I want to take in California to be a production assistant but, I need a car. Then there is also the question of what to do about the pension money I receive in Canada for being disabled. I would like to be able to collect it again on an on going basis. I haven't collected any money for almost a year now that I have been gone. I'm not sure what the benefit allows if I want to both collect and leave out of country. I may not be able to that. So, I may want to also maintain a residence here in Canada and commute back and forth between here and LA. On the other hand as far as the book writing goes it doesn't really matter which country I am in when I write it. I just need a safe, clean, affordable spot etc. So, if I cannot maintain my housing in LA on the income I am afforded by my California General Relief then I may have to consider the prospect of coming back to Canada till I get the book done. I'd really like to be able to take that course for film work in California though and get my foot in the door down there that way and start settling in. Either way I should be back in CA in about a week and will definitely be staying there for the next three months that I have left in the Weingart Hotel.
It would be nice though to come back in a car or maybe even on a bike. I've thought about getting a small camper van too. I could live in that and take the course and get a place. But, we'll see. Probably the best is for me to reinstate my disability claim here in Canada, collect what I can and save it while I am gone back down to California the three months. We'll see.
What I would really like to be able to do is collect my money and live in Mexico. But, I think that may be a more long term goal. I have to work out my priorities. One, finish what I started in LA which take the three more months. And, two keep adding to the book.
We just left Tacoma and are due at the Vancouver Greyhound in 5 hours. It will be 7:30 pm and Ninel and Klaus will be there to pick me up. Klaus has offered to help me pay for a hotel room for a week and that is where I will be staying. How kind of him. That was awful nice of him to do that.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Hail Satan!!!
This has got to be my strangest experience in this life to date. There I was walking down the street on the way to a doctors office when an entire street full of people simultaneously looked up and all of them in unison suddenly 'Hailed Satan', right before my very own eyes. You know, the first that comes to my mind when this happens is the question 'Are they hailing me? Do these people think I am Satan?'.
But, that's not the way it was. That's not the feeling I got from them at that time. In fact I don't think these people even know what happened to them. They certainly went back to work digging into their lunchtime plates on the restaurant patios like nothing happened. And, the people marching down the block to wherever they where going certainly didn't break a beat. They just suddenly all 'Hailed Satan" and went back on with their current minute like nothing at all had happened.
But, that's not the way it was. That's not the feeling I got from them at that time. In fact I don't think these people even know what happened to them. They certainly went back to work digging into their lunchtime plates on the restaurant patios like nothing happened. And, the people marching down the block to wherever they where going certainly didn't break a beat. They just suddenly all 'Hailed Satan" and went back on with their current minute like nothing at all had happened.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Brock Steals My Dope
I had already been living in my own apartment in the building that my mother managed and had been allowing my best friend at the time, Brock, who was homeless to come over and hang out and use the amenities whenever he needed too. He came by about two or three times a week and we always had fun. I was trying by then to keep quitting the use of methamphetamine but the little bits that Brock always brought with him for me felt like a God send considering I had no other way to combat my symptoms and with the rent for the apartment I certainly had no money for drugs either.
I remember the first day he had come over after I had moved in and set up my new apartment which had no furniture but a chair and lamp that I had set up. The lamp hanging from a hook in the ceiling, bare bulb over the chair like an interrogation light and, the stiff wooden chair facing into the corner of the wall like a punishment for a small child, which I thought was artistic and had drawn back the hanging blinds across the huge bay windows wide so all the neighborhood could see, Brock came in and immediately wanted to leave. Right away as soon as he walked in and saw how I set up my place he wanted to leave. I had been through this with Brock before in situations where I made him so uncomfortable that he just wanted to leave. I use to do this on purpose to him.
We both use to do this to each other sometimes; act so grossly out of order with the conduct of the general public, that eventually one of us, or maybe even both of us at the same time, got so grossed out by our own behavior that we couldn't even handle it ourselves anymore. Being this way, rarely did we get on each others nerves. But, it did happen sometimes. We were sketching out together. And, Brock as an actor and model and I as a writer both took it quite seriously and performed our sketches as a personal form of art. Brock made me take the simple set up in my apartment down and close the blinds so the place looked normal again. It was fun.
I remember the first day he had come over after I had moved in and set up my new apartment which had no furniture but a chair and lamp that I had set up. The lamp hanging from a hook in the ceiling, bare bulb over the chair like an interrogation light and, the stiff wooden chair facing into the corner of the wall like a punishment for a small child, which I thought was artistic and had drawn back the hanging blinds across the huge bay windows wide so all the neighborhood could see, Brock came in and immediately wanted to leave. Right away as soon as he walked in and saw how I set up my place he wanted to leave. I had been through this with Brock before in situations where I made him so uncomfortable that he just wanted to leave. I use to do this on purpose to him.
We both use to do this to each other sometimes; act so grossly out of order with the conduct of the general public, that eventually one of us, or maybe even both of us at the same time, got so grossed out by our own behavior that we couldn't even handle it ourselves anymore. Being this way, rarely did we get on each others nerves. But, it did happen sometimes. We were sketching out together. And, Brock as an actor and model and I as a writer both took it quite seriously and performed our sketches as a personal form of art. Brock made me take the simple set up in my apartment down and close the blinds so the place looked normal again. It was fun.
Well, I awoke this morning to the strangest dream...
I was in a hospital operating room strapping the president down to a metal table explaining to the audience watching from above what we were doing since the president had expressed a desire to become like the messiah.
First, I ordered a large syringe and then had my assistant go fetch from my personal drawers a flap of speed. Then I loaded the syringe, fixed the presidents arm and and began delivering the meth amphetamine into the presidents bloodstream slowly and waited for him to cough once before I pulled the needle back out.
As, he lay there we began to unstrap him. Orderlies then wheeled in a bicycle and leaned up against the wall beside a door. When the president sat up, I looked at him and said,
'OK, you may leave now. But, you may only leave riding the bicycle. And, as soon as you feel that you may want more. You may come back. But, you must still be riding the bicycle. You must never walk Barack. Your feet must never touch the ground. On the bicycle is the only way to ensure that this happens. And, if you do this then we may proceed with the second stage of MKULTRA. We will let you smoke the meth. And, then Lord may meet you in the cloud.'
First, I ordered a large syringe and then had my assistant go fetch from my personal drawers a flap of speed. Then I loaded the syringe, fixed the presidents arm and and began delivering the meth amphetamine into the presidents bloodstream slowly and waited for him to cough once before I pulled the needle back out.
As, he lay there we began to unstrap him. Orderlies then wheeled in a bicycle and leaned up against the wall beside a door. When the president sat up, I looked at him and said,
'OK, you may leave now. But, you may only leave riding the bicycle. And, as soon as you feel that you may want more. You may come back. But, you must still be riding the bicycle. You must never walk Barack. Your feet must never touch the ground. On the bicycle is the only way to ensure that this happens. And, if you do this then we may proceed with the second stage of MKULTRA. We will let you smoke the meth. And, then Lord may meet you in the cloud.'
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Stanley Hotel
It only seems fitting that I begin my story here, the day that I checked into a room at the Stanley Hotel located at 36 Blood Alley Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada.
And, it only seems fitting because it is such a dirty, fucking sinkhole into the abyss of Vancouver's abhorrent underground derelict drug addict scene that my story would seem to fit in here somehow. By that time in my life I had been smoking crystal meth for probably at least two years. And, the skid road hotel was the last stop for tenants who had been evicted from other social services buildings before.
In it there were very little rules to differentiate it from living outdoors. You were able to bring all of your found junk from back alleys and wherever into your room with you. There were no safety checks. No security. And, if you wanted to you could have probably carried a loaded shotgun in one hand and a hand grenade in the other up to your room from outside and nobody would have stopped you. You were also able to freely smoke or take or shoot your favorite drugs of choice inside your own hotel room and there were no questions.
I had been warned so many times, by some of the most ruthless street dealers and hustlers and even hardened cons not to ever come here. There were murderers that lived here. People disappeared from here. Women were often killed here. I was told that the Stanley Hotel was for psychopaths only.
The ancient building itself has quite a history too. Being once that it was the slaughterhouse of pigs whose blood ran so thick down the then dirt alley that they named it so. And, also that it had once been a prison.
I was so high on crystal meth the day I checked in, that when the form asked for a reference to the hotel, I named put the name, Satan the Devil.
And, I had met the Devil, at least through my eyes, in a man downtown called. Merc whose pronunciation of his name rhymes with purse. They called him this because if you ever had a problem with him the last thing coming out of your mouth would have have been you screaming for mercy. But, you would have never been able to get the whole word out of your both before he finished you off. Hence the word Merc. And, whenever he was around there were a lot of people screaming his name out loud.
But, I liked Merc. We had great opportunities to talk then. And, I have always enjoyed all of my conversations with Merc.
And, it only seems fitting because it is such a dirty, fucking sinkhole into the abyss of Vancouver's abhorrent underground derelict drug addict scene that my story would seem to fit in here somehow. By that time in my life I had been smoking crystal meth for probably at least two years. And, the skid road hotel was the last stop for tenants who had been evicted from other social services buildings before.
In it there were very little rules to differentiate it from living outdoors. You were able to bring all of your found junk from back alleys and wherever into your room with you. There were no safety checks. No security. And, if you wanted to you could have probably carried a loaded shotgun in one hand and a hand grenade in the other up to your room from outside and nobody would have stopped you. You were also able to freely smoke or take or shoot your favorite drugs of choice inside your own hotel room and there were no questions.
I had been warned so many times, by some of the most ruthless street dealers and hustlers and even hardened cons not to ever come here. There were murderers that lived here. People disappeared from here. Women were often killed here. I was told that the Stanley Hotel was for psychopaths only.
The ancient building itself has quite a history too. Being once that it was the slaughterhouse of pigs whose blood ran so thick down the then dirt alley that they named it so. And, also that it had once been a prison.
I was so high on crystal meth the day I checked in, that when the form asked for a reference to the hotel, I named put the name, Satan the Devil.
And, I had met the Devil, at least through my eyes, in a man downtown called. Merc whose pronunciation of his name rhymes with purse. They called him this because if you ever had a problem with him the last thing coming out of your mouth would have have been you screaming for mercy. But, you would have never been able to get the whole word out of your both before he finished you off. Hence the word Merc. And, whenever he was around there were a lot of people screaming his name out loud.
But, I liked Merc. We had great opportunities to talk then. And, I have always enjoyed all of my conversations with Merc.
I had to take 5 or 6 Ritalin today
I had to take 5 or 6 Ritalin today just to finally really wake up. I am only supposed to take 3. I have to talk to my doctor about this next month.
Prologue
So, before I get into writing this whole book down that's been in my head and around me for quite some time now I just want to remind the possible reader that;
One - When I was deciding how to write this book out I finally choose the easiest target audience I could think of to identify with. That being primarily myself. I thought that will be the easiest way to make the book fun enough for me to write so that I do in fact eventually complete writing it. So, I don't just quite half way through because I don't like writing it anymore. I wanted to make the whole book writing experience for me a passionate hobby that I do for myself and my own pleasure. I've tried writing things before with other audiences in mind but, I have found that my own limited life experiences don't make me comfortable enough to think that I could ever carry on a whole novels length worth of material without losing the interest of the customer because I don't know them well enough.
For instance this book will touch on a lot of different subjects that are probably dear to the hearts of many different kinds of people. But, I haven't got a clue how to identify with any of them on that deep emotional level that would require this book to satisfy them or any one group of them better than any other group of people that this book may be of interest to. I couldn't just write to the Jews for instance over the Christians. Or, the Muslims over the Jews. Nor, could I write it out to be a book for bikers over cops. I have never really been any of these things in any formal way that would allow me to presume that I could ever write a book to them as a target audience. Yet, besides me these are some of the kinds of characters that will populate the entire span of the novel. And, as the writer, in the end, I have realized that I am the only one of these characters that I know best here. So, presumably I am then best of to write the book to myself.
I say this first because I already know that some parts of this book may be offensive, even dangerous and possibly libelous or slanderous to some people. But, be rest assured that I did not intend to please you. I intended only to please myself in writing this book. And, I think that is the best approach for me to take to be able to tell this whole story through my own eyes without the feeling of being watched over, nervous or anxious about what other people might think of the things I am trying to write about as I am writing them. So, bear that in mind. That if you do get offended because of my testimony I certainly was not intending to offend you in particular over anyone else. Nor, was I trying to pretend to really understand you or your own cultures. Nor, was I trying to protect anyone else by offending you instead.
I think that by ultimately picking myself as the intended audience over anyone else this will result in the most fair and unbiased book I can write. As, well as being interesting enough for me to write that I don't lose interest in writing it. But, then also know that this is a very ignorant book. One in which I have only sought to tell my end of it. And, with that being said I hope your knowledge of my ignorance will be enough knowledge for the reader, about the author, to allow you to be able to complete reading it in the way it was written.
Two - While, I am penning this novel, even now, as I write out these notes to myself, I am in the full throws of something wildly biblical happening to me every day and every night. All day and all night long, I am having vivid hallucinations regarding the second coming of our Lord God. I am having full blown and intelligent conversations with the voices of these creatures in my mind who have identified themselves to me as being the Elohim. I am hearing the word of God, blowing in rushes of air, rolling up against my window, crashing like waves against the glass, proclaiming, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the Name of The King of Kings and Lord of Lords'. I hear this as loudly and as plainly as anyone hears a giant wave crash against a shore. I think that these voices are so loud that other people must also be able to hear them. And, I have thought before that I have witnessed other people also hearing what I think I am able to hear. But, I have asked my psychiatrist whether or not he thinks anybody else can hear what I am hearing and, he has told me that he has not ever heard what I am describing nor, has ever heard anybody else describing what I think I am hearing.
So, with that in mind I am not expecting anybody else who may read this book to come to any of the same conclusions that I do. And, know that all of the conclusions that I come to in this book are then due both to my hallucinations, which are easy to describe, and due to a bizarre series of events, which are not so easy to describe but, require a whole novel to explain, none of which may be true.
Now, that is the kind of novel that I like to write: Ignorant and most probably completely untrue.
Enjoy.
One - When I was deciding how to write this book out I finally choose the easiest target audience I could think of to identify with. That being primarily myself. I thought that will be the easiest way to make the book fun enough for me to write so that I do in fact eventually complete writing it. So, I don't just quite half way through because I don't like writing it anymore. I wanted to make the whole book writing experience for me a passionate hobby that I do for myself and my own pleasure. I've tried writing things before with other audiences in mind but, I have found that my own limited life experiences don't make me comfortable enough to think that I could ever carry on a whole novels length worth of material without losing the interest of the customer because I don't know them well enough.
For instance this book will touch on a lot of different subjects that are probably dear to the hearts of many different kinds of people. But, I haven't got a clue how to identify with any of them on that deep emotional level that would require this book to satisfy them or any one group of them better than any other group of people that this book may be of interest to. I couldn't just write to the Jews for instance over the Christians. Or, the Muslims over the Jews. Nor, could I write it out to be a book for bikers over cops. I have never really been any of these things in any formal way that would allow me to presume that I could ever write a book to them as a target audience. Yet, besides me these are some of the kinds of characters that will populate the entire span of the novel. And, as the writer, in the end, I have realized that I am the only one of these characters that I know best here. So, presumably I am then best of to write the book to myself.
I say this first because I already know that some parts of this book may be offensive, even dangerous and possibly libelous or slanderous to some people. But, be rest assured that I did not intend to please you. I intended only to please myself in writing this book. And, I think that is the best approach for me to take to be able to tell this whole story through my own eyes without the feeling of being watched over, nervous or anxious about what other people might think of the things I am trying to write about as I am writing them. So, bear that in mind. That if you do get offended because of my testimony I certainly was not intending to offend you in particular over anyone else. Nor, was I trying to pretend to really understand you or your own cultures. Nor, was I trying to protect anyone else by offending you instead.
I think that by ultimately picking myself as the intended audience over anyone else this will result in the most fair and unbiased book I can write. As, well as being interesting enough for me to write that I don't lose interest in writing it. But, then also know that this is a very ignorant book. One in which I have only sought to tell my end of it. And, with that being said I hope your knowledge of my ignorance will be enough knowledge for the reader, about the author, to allow you to be able to complete reading it in the way it was written.
Two - While, I am penning this novel, even now, as I write out these notes to myself, I am in the full throws of something wildly biblical happening to me every day and every night. All day and all night long, I am having vivid hallucinations regarding the second coming of our Lord God. I am having full blown and intelligent conversations with the voices of these creatures in my mind who have identified themselves to me as being the Elohim. I am hearing the word of God, blowing in rushes of air, rolling up against my window, crashing like waves against the glass, proclaiming, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the Name of The King of Kings and Lord of Lords'. I hear this as loudly and as plainly as anyone hears a giant wave crash against a shore. I think that these voices are so loud that other people must also be able to hear them. And, I have thought before that I have witnessed other people also hearing what I think I am able to hear. But, I have asked my psychiatrist whether or not he thinks anybody else can hear what I am hearing and, he has told me that he has not ever heard what I am describing nor, has ever heard anybody else describing what I think I am hearing.
So, with that in mind I am not expecting anybody else who may read this book to come to any of the same conclusions that I do. And, know that all of the conclusions that I come to in this book are then due both to my hallucinations, which are easy to describe, and due to a bizarre series of events, which are not so easy to describe but, require a whole novel to explain, none of which may be true.
Now, that is the kind of novel that I like to write: Ignorant and most probably completely untrue.
Enjoy.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Good News!
Well, you wouldn't believe what happened to me yesterday. I was at my doctors getting my medications for narcolepsy when I got the nerve up to ask my doctor whether he had also been hearing the words 'I am God Almighty. God of Abraham.', like I do.
He said 'No'.
I told him about how loud it was. I told him about the Ark Revelation. And, so on. In the space of about 20 minutes I tried to relate to him all that had happened to me so far and what I can hear going on outside my window day and night.
But, no. He was not aware of any rumors or any other people talking about hearing the Word of God like I am hearing it.
So, on the way back to my hotel, as I am thus relating to these voices that it seems that no matter how loud they are and how well I can hear them, apparently there is nobody else actually hearing them too. Which, they, the voices, immediately insist cannot be true. And, that if I can hear them it must be so that the other people must also be able to hear them. Flawed logic to be sure. And, I though I remind them of this they continue to disagree.
Now, here is the good news. Suddenly, by this time Norman the Christ is back in his hotel room alone, he receives a revelation, that will probably affirm in you, your simple awe in God, like it has done to both mine and his. This is what has been actually going on recently to Norman and I.
In a final retaliation to Satan having removed the word of Gd from the people's ears during, the last two thousand years of the Great Rebellion, God has been secretly removing His Coming Word from Satan's ears, thereby keeping Satan in perpetual and forever lasting darkness. And, he has been secretly removing Satan's voice from the ears of the people of this world.
Hallelujah! Satan has now been officially contained by the word. While, he is now in his world, blabbing all along, nobody can hear them but, themselves. There are no longer any people on earth who can hear the slanderous words of Satan, truly in final preparations for the coming of judgment day.
The only words that anybody of this earth shall ever hear again will be that of the One and Only True and Living God. Hallelujah!
But, don't expect anything too dramatic. His coming is subtle. Though, we are well on our way to the New Earth and the New Heave I am not going to say that we are there yet. This, then, is only the beginning and, the end.
I had such a hard time last night trying to explain to Satan, his followers and his abominations, that their world is false. That, truly their own world is an illusion. That all the while that they keep talking and thinking that the people of this world can hear them and are acting in accordance with their dialogue this is simply no longer true.
Finally, I had to remind them that they in the dark and I am not. I am in the light. And, I can confirm to them that their world is is indeed only an illusion and nobody here in the light can neither hear nor see them anymore.
He said 'No'.
I told him about how loud it was. I told him about the Ark Revelation. And, so on. In the space of about 20 minutes I tried to relate to him all that had happened to me so far and what I can hear going on outside my window day and night.
But, no. He was not aware of any rumors or any other people talking about hearing the Word of God like I am hearing it.
So, on the way back to my hotel, as I am thus relating to these voices that it seems that no matter how loud they are and how well I can hear them, apparently there is nobody else actually hearing them too. Which, they, the voices, immediately insist cannot be true. And, that if I can hear them it must be so that the other people must also be able to hear them. Flawed logic to be sure. And, I though I remind them of this they continue to disagree.
Now, here is the good news. Suddenly, by this time Norman the Christ is back in his hotel room alone, he receives a revelation, that will probably affirm in you, your simple awe in God, like it has done to both mine and his. This is what has been actually going on recently to Norman and I.
In a final retaliation to Satan having removed the word of Gd from the people's ears during, the last two thousand years of the Great Rebellion, God has been secretly removing His Coming Word from Satan's ears, thereby keeping Satan in perpetual and forever lasting darkness. And, he has been secretly removing Satan's voice from the ears of the people of this world.
Hallelujah! Satan has now been officially contained by the word. While, he is now in his world, blabbing all along, nobody can hear them but, themselves. There are no longer any people on earth who can hear the slanderous words of Satan, truly in final preparations for the coming of judgment day.
The only words that anybody of this earth shall ever hear again will be that of the One and Only True and Living God. Hallelujah!
But, don't expect anything too dramatic. His coming is subtle. Though, we are well on our way to the New Earth and the New Heave I am not going to say that we are there yet. This, then, is only the beginning and, the end.
I had such a hard time last night trying to explain to Satan, his followers and his abominations, that their world is false. That, truly their own world is an illusion. That all the while that they keep talking and thinking that the people of this world can hear them and are acting in accordance with their dialogue this is simply no longer true.
Finally, I had to remind them that they in the dark and I am not. I am in the light. And, I can confirm to them that their world is is indeed only an illusion and nobody here in the light can neither hear nor see them anymore.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Well, I think I got a handle on act 1
So, that's good. As the book progresses there are so many details to fill in and add to the acts. Way to much to think about all in one night. I use the storybook software from http://storybook.intertec.ch/joomla/. It's a little weak on composing acts but the chronological scene function has help me tremendously so far. I would recommend it as a free download to anyone who is serious about starting their book.
Interesting to note that even as I sit and write this from my hotel room in east LA I can still hear himself thinking outside my window and presumably the sounds of other people beginning to realize or hear me too.
I have come.
Interesting to note that even as I sit and write this from my hotel room in east LA I can still hear himself thinking outside my window and presumably the sounds of other people beginning to realize or hear me too.
I have come.
Act 3
Finally, the third act features the resolution of the story and its subplots. The climax, also known as the second turning point, is the scene or sequence in which the main tensions of the story are brought to their most intense point and the dramatic question answered, leaving the protagonist and other characters with a new sense of who they really are.
Act 2
The second act, also referred to as "rising action", typically depicts the protagonist's attempt to resolve the problem initiated by the first turning point, only to find themselves in ever worsening situations. Part of the reason the protagonist seems unable to resolve their problems is because they do not yet have the skills to deal with the forces of antagonism that confront them. They must not only learn new skills but arrive at a higher sense of awareness of who they are and what they are capable of, in order to deal with their predicament. This cannot be achieved alone and they are usually aided and abetted by mentors and co-protagonists.
the first turning point
(a) I write a book.
(b) My life will ever be the same because mostly only crazy people send emails declaring to be God and such.
(c) Will I get the message of the Second Coming out the the people?
(c) Will I ever get the Revelation of the Ark out to the people?
(c) Will I ever get help for narcolepsy?
(c) Will I ever get people to admit that Willy Pickton is not guilty?
(c) Will I ever be able to support my son?
(c) Will I ever be able to convince people of the true cause of global warming?
protagonist's attempt to resolve the problem initiated by the first turning point
ever worsening situations
a) My book turns out to be a cyber terrorist manual.
b) Even though many people read my emails they are mostly ignored. I begin to wonder if I am crazy.
c) Some people even call me the messiah but nobody seems to care.
c) Even though the Ark Revelation even makes onto late night tv as a comment. Still, nobody seems to realize what it means.
c) My emails to Dr. Fleming now ensure that I can not even see other people in his office for my symptoms.
c) My emails about Willy Pickton seem to have motivated all of Canada's media, police and gov to largely ignore the outcome of his trial.
c) All of the internet marketing schemes I use to try and make a decent living to support my son on the internet fall through.
c) Some people are interested in my global warming theories on the internet but because I can not seem to tell them without the biblical inferences and references nobody cares for them.
In the end all my emails have done is seem to have alienated me from the general public and created a mood of hostility towards Canada that I am afraid threatens the alliance between Canada and the US in the Afghan War.
They must not only learn new skills but arrive at a higher sense of awareness of who they are and what they are capable of, in order to deal with their predicament.
New Skills
a) I write a better book. This one.
b) I contact the FBI about my mental state etc. All is well.
c) I contact the CIA and relate my whole story.
c) I entrust the revelation of the Ark to the FBI/CIA.
c) I travel to the United States to receive proper medical attention for my symptoms.
c) I relate the story of Willy Pickton's trial to the FBI.
c) I begin to write this book to earn an income to support my son.
c) I include the theory of global warming in the book.
Higher Sense of Awareness
a) I can be a writer.
b) My mental state is certainly not dangerous.
c) There are still people in America who are paid to care.
c) Being American empowers me.
c) We have the best doctors in the world.
c) What happened in the Pickton trial could not happen in the USA without somebody else caring.
c) With a little help and hard work I can be successful.
c) All things told I am the Savior and the Messiah.
What I am Capable of
a) Writing books.
b) Maintaining my sanity.
c) Being an inspiration.
This cannot be achieved alone and they are usually aided and abetted by mentors and co-protagonists.
1) CIA
2) FBI
3) Dr.s
the first turning point
(a) I write a book.
(b) My life will ever be the same because mostly only crazy people send emails declaring to be God and such.
(c) Will I get the message of the Second Coming out the the people?
(c) Will I ever get the Revelation of the Ark out to the people?
(c) Will I ever get help for narcolepsy?
(c) Will I ever get people to admit that Willy Pickton is not guilty?
(c) Will I ever be able to support my son?
(c) Will I ever be able to convince people of the true cause of global warming?
protagonist's attempt to resolve the problem initiated by the first turning point
ever worsening situations
a) My book turns out to be a cyber terrorist manual.
b) Even though many people read my emails they are mostly ignored. I begin to wonder if I am crazy.
c) Some people even call me the messiah but nobody seems to care.
c) Even though the Ark Revelation even makes onto late night tv as a comment. Still, nobody seems to realize what it means.
c) My emails to Dr. Fleming now ensure that I can not even see other people in his office for my symptoms.
c) My emails about Willy Pickton seem to have motivated all of Canada's media, police and gov to largely ignore the outcome of his trial.
c) All of the internet marketing schemes I use to try and make a decent living to support my son on the internet fall through.
c) Some people are interested in my global warming theories on the internet but because I can not seem to tell them without the biblical inferences and references nobody cares for them.
In the end all my emails have done is seem to have alienated me from the general public and created a mood of hostility towards Canada that I am afraid threatens the alliance between Canada and the US in the Afghan War.
They must not only learn new skills but arrive at a higher sense of awareness of who they are and what they are capable of, in order to deal with their predicament.
New Skills
a) I write a better book. This one.
b) I contact the FBI about my mental state etc. All is well.
c) I contact the CIA and relate my whole story.
c) I entrust the revelation of the Ark to the FBI/CIA.
c) I travel to the United States to receive proper medical attention for my symptoms.
c) I relate the story of Willy Pickton's trial to the FBI.
c) I begin to write this book to earn an income to support my son.
c) I include the theory of global warming in the book.
Higher Sense of Awareness
a) I can be a writer.
b) My mental state is certainly not dangerous.
c) There are still people in America who are paid to care.
c) Being American empowers me.
c) We have the best doctors in the world.
c) What happened in the Pickton trial could not happen in the USA without somebody else caring.
c) With a little help and hard work I can be successful.
c) All things told I am the Savior and the Messiah.
What I am Capable of
a) Writing books.
b) Maintaining my sanity.
c) Being an inspiration.
This cannot be achieved alone and they are usually aided and abetted by mentors and co-protagonists.
1) CIA
2) FBI
3) Dr.s
Act 1
The first act is used to establish the main characters, their relationships and the normal world they live in. Earlier in the first act, a dynamic, on-screen incident occurs that confronts the main character (the protagonist), whose attempts to deal with this incident leads to a second and more dramatic situation, known as the first turning point, which (a) signals the end of the first act, (b) ensures life will never be the same again for the protagonist and (c) raises a dramatic question that will be answered in the climax of the film. The dramatic question should be framed in terms of the protagonist's call to action, (Will X recover the diamond?, Will Y get the girl? Will Z capture the killer?).
the main characters
their relationships and the normal world they live in
Only some people are believers in the stories of the bible. And, only some people believe that spirits are in control of this world somehow. Dr. Fleming is a doctor at the UBC Sleep Disorders. He normally treats people with narcolepsy. Willy Pickton is an accused mass murderer in Canada. He was found not guilty of the 1st degree homicide of the victims but found guilty of the second degree homicide. Ben is my son - to whom this book is dedicated. He lives in Canada with his mom Nikki. Astaroth is a demon and chieftain in hell who has to come help me save the world physically for the deal I made with Satan.
a dynamic, on-screen incident occurs that confronts the main character
the first turning point
(a) I write a book.
(b) My life will never be the same because mostly only crazy people send emails declaring to be God and such.
(c) Will I get the message of the Second Coming out the the people?
(c) Will I ever get the Revelation of the Ark out to the people?
(c) Will I ever get help for narcolepsy?
(c) Will I ever get people to admit that Willy Pickton is not guilty?
(c) Will I ever be able to support my son?
(c) Will I ever be able to convince people of the true cause of global warming?
the main characters
- Me
- Dr. Fleming
- Willy Pickton
- Ben
- Astaroth
their relationships and the normal world they live in
Only some people are believers in the stories of the bible. And, only some people believe that spirits are in control of this world somehow. Dr. Fleming is a doctor at the UBC Sleep Disorders. He normally treats people with narcolepsy. Willy Pickton is an accused mass murderer in Canada. He was found not guilty of the 1st degree homicide of the victims but found guilty of the second degree homicide. Ben is my son - to whom this book is dedicated. He lives in Canada with his mom Nikki. Astaroth is a demon and chieftain in hell who has to come help me save the world physically for the deal I made with Satan.
a dynamic, on-screen incident occurs that confronts the main character
- I witness Jesus leave my body. The Holy Spirit or Angel come to host me.
- I have the Ark Revelation.
- Dr. Fleming kicks me out of his office.
- I am convinced Willy Pickton is not guilty. The trial concludes and legally proves that.
- Ben is born.
- Asataroth tells me the demonic reasons behind global warming.
the first turning point
(a) I write a book.
(b) My life will never be the same because mostly only crazy people send emails declaring to be God and such.
(c) Will I get the message of the Second Coming out the the people?
(c) Will I ever get the Revelation of the Ark out to the people?
(c) Will I ever get help for narcolepsy?
(c) Will I ever get people to admit that Willy Pickton is not guilty?
(c) Will I ever be able to support my son?
(c) Will I ever be able to convince people of the true cause of global warming?
Today I started a blog/journal
Today I started a blog/journal to chronicle my thoughts and such because I am having such a hard time trying to remember all of the dates that things have happened to me so that you may know who I am. That is the purpose of the book I am writing. So, that you may know that I have come and that indeed we are pressing forward with the plans written in the Holy Bible.
It's so important to keep a log of ones thoughts, as I am finding out trying to write this book, if you are as forgetful as I am. And, who knows this may become a book of it's own one day. But, anyways... you now also have a public record of my being here now.
I am staying at a very nice and affordable hotel in the heart of historic Los Angeles called the Weingart - 566 South San Pedro street. And, if your like me you might spend a great deal of time listening to the voice of the Living Word of God, mine, as it passes by your window in the air as prophecy relates.
I have been having a hard time lately seeing any evidence that other people who can also hear this are taking any of this very seriously. I have had direct confirmation and evidence before of other people who could also hear the Living Word while I was in Canada. And, I have been waiting for some sign or signal of confirmation from the people of LA.
This is all very important to me. As, the days of Satan's Great Rebellion dwindle down now to minutes and seconds, all due to end about the 2012/2013 mark, we as Angels are all gearing up for the battle known as Armageddon. I as the Lord of Hosts or Angel of God or the Angel of Jesus Christ prophecy to come at the end of days do report all through the body of Christ to the Heavens above. So, before the battle of Armageddon begins I want to be able to send in a good report of the people around me that the Lord both knows that you know that the Word of God shall be longer 'snatched from your ears' by Satan the Devil and, that you do indeed know that what you hear is indeed the actual Living Word of God that accompanies me, the Angel of God, in the flesh and blood of Christ or, God in Christ as I am, as I am His Angel.
You have time. But, I am still waiting. It is so loud now outside my window that I can hear other people in the buildings around me talking about the strange sounds and voices they hear. But, in the end - before it's time, pardon the pun, I need to know that you are fully aware of who I am and what this is.
I suggest you simply contact me on Face Book, Norman Christian Hoffmann, and talk to me about what you hear. At, that point I can offer you more evidence or proof that I am the Messiah and that I, and I alone, am the only one with the Word which is faithful and true to me alone.
There is so much to explain but, before the end I hope to have my book in order that I get this message out there to the world. Hallelujah!
It's so important to keep a log of ones thoughts, as I am finding out trying to write this book, if you are as forgetful as I am. And, who knows this may become a book of it's own one day. But, anyways... you now also have a public record of my being here now.
I am staying at a very nice and affordable hotel in the heart of historic Los Angeles called the Weingart - 566 South San Pedro street. And, if your like me you might spend a great deal of time listening to the voice of the Living Word of God, mine, as it passes by your window in the air as prophecy relates.
I have been having a hard time lately seeing any evidence that other people who can also hear this are taking any of this very seriously. I have had direct confirmation and evidence before of other people who could also hear the Living Word while I was in Canada. And, I have been waiting for some sign or signal of confirmation from the people of LA.
This is all very important to me. As, the days of Satan's Great Rebellion dwindle down now to minutes and seconds, all due to end about the 2012/2013 mark, we as Angels are all gearing up for the battle known as Armageddon. I as the Lord of Hosts or Angel of God or the Angel of Jesus Christ prophecy to come at the end of days do report all through the body of Christ to the Heavens above. So, before the battle of Armageddon begins I want to be able to send in a good report of the people around me that the Lord both knows that you know that the Word of God shall be longer 'snatched from your ears' by Satan the Devil and, that you do indeed know that what you hear is indeed the actual Living Word of God that accompanies me, the Angel of God, in the flesh and blood of Christ or, God in Christ as I am, as I am His Angel.
You have time. But, I am still waiting. It is so loud now outside my window that I can hear other people in the buildings around me talking about the strange sounds and voices they hear. But, in the end - before it's time, pardon the pun, I need to know that you are fully aware of who I am and what this is.
I suggest you simply contact me on Face Book, Norman Christian Hoffmann, and talk to me about what you hear. At, that point I can offer you more evidence or proof that I am the Messiah and that I, and I alone, am the only one with the Word which is faithful and true to me alone.
There is so much to explain but, before the end I hope to have my book in order that I get this message out there to the world. Hallelujah!
I am the Lord
I am the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I am the Word. Both, faithful and true.
You can hear me most loudly in Los Angeles but, also around the world. I use to live in Canada, before 2010, where you could hear me there also, especially, in Vancouver BC, where I lived, but across the country as well.
I am often repeating the phrase, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the Lord' or, 'I am God Almighty. God of Abraham' or, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords'. I usually accompany all my words with the phrase 'Hallelujah'.
I am the Christ Messiah. I have come. Welcome to the New Heaven and the New Earth.
Within me resides the Angel of Christ. I am the flesh and the blood of the Holy Grail.
Hallelujah!
Norman Christian Hoffmann
You can hear me most loudly in Los Angeles but, also around the world. I use to live in Canada, before 2010, where you could hear me there also, especially, in Vancouver BC, where I lived, but across the country as well.
I am often repeating the phrase, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the Lord' or, 'I am God Almighty. God of Abraham' or, 'Norman Christian Hoffmann is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords'. I usually accompany all my words with the phrase 'Hallelujah'.
I am the Christ Messiah. I have come. Welcome to the New Heaven and the New Earth.
Within me resides the Angel of Christ. I am the flesh and the blood of the Holy Grail.
Hallelujah!
Norman Christian Hoffmann
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