Puzzle pieces seems about kids this time
My subconscious sometimes brings up something from long ago, and keeps reminding me of it, as if an important thing for me again in the present in some way. So, like the strange car problem event of my previous blog post here, I will describe this new piece of a puzzle seeking where to fit.
The first event was maybe a decade ago, before I moved up here; I had set out from my lowest-rent rathole apartment in Sunland in the early morning as usual, the start of my usual three hour journey of walk, wait at bus stop, ride bus, wait at another bus stop in Chinatown, ride bus, long walk, then arrive to do my volunteer job at the museum of natural history, as I had done for years. Just getting started again on this dull trip, I trudged along stoically ready to endure the three hours; the people who rode the bus system were only the poor people, the downtrodden, we all ignored each other. From my apartment, then the block long walk to the first bus stop. It was rare to see any activity there at that time of day, never anyone else out on foot, and few cars. But this time as I walked toward the bus stop as I crossed a sidestreet, I noticed there were two people walking toward me on the sidewalk, was a tall muscular man along with a small boy alongside him. Something looked odd about them, maybe not father and son; but Asperger's usually cannot figure out people, but if they are out of place at least something some times makes me notice, and puzzle. About then a white sedan comes from behind me, rapidly pulls up to park alongside me on the corner, surely not legal; a lean-mean man hurries out of the driver's side goes around back of car and next is coming up rapidly along the sidewalk behind me. Am fairly dulled, no fun the journey and in the poor parts of town one sometimes sees odd things going on. But about then the tall man and small boy are about twenty feet in front of me and the boy says "He's not the one." The tall man with the boy changes his poker face suddenly into a look of rage and he roars "What do you mean, he's not the one!" Little boy says again, he is not the one. They walk past me, the tall muscleman's face rapidly returning to a different look. I continue the plodding up the hill toward the bus stop. Clearly I was the target of something and if they were going to do it well I could not stop them. And it was silence behind me, nor did I notice anything more of that event. Other than my Asperger's sensory thing had recorded it all in detail, even though my rational mind was not comprehending a whole lot of it; I often figure out things later, much later.
I have had multiple indications that little kids were being told I was a bad person, as shown by their reactions to me. As well as some adults of some acquaintance, they being normal but then blurt out something as if they angrily thought I was a child abuser. Lots of people, like "the word was spread around". And in addition to the small boy per above incident, I suspect I have been saved several times by a perceptive and honest child refuting some adult's contention.
My subconscious has also been reminding me of another of those very peculiar happenings that my mind files away in hopes of making sense out of it. This one happened the most recent trip to Walmart, where I do most of my shopping. It was a predictable trip there, I suppose, having had to drive to a radio club coffee meeting, and since I had driven my car, I made a stop at Walmart to get things accumulated on my shopping list. I had heard from one of the radio folks that Walmart had the fine point Sharpie pens; I still have one that has not run out of ink and so I intended to see if I could find them among the other things at the huge store. I knew where the pens and pencils were along my usual route through the store, and pausing there although I was not seeing Sharpie pens at first, I eventually figured out they must be at the end of the display case, but there was a full-bearded man and a woman there, with a shopping cart; I marked time a bit, the couple seemed to just be standing there, not looking at the pens, but I could not get to where I could access pens there, as a result. I had almost decided to skip it for now, when two teenyboppers came marching past, two girls, dressed stylishly, not pushing a shopping card, just moving staring straight ahead along past me not looking at me, and I tried to figure out what was that about; unable to get to the pens yet, I turned and watched the two girls - maybe 12 years old, and marching along dressed cute but strangely, they went around the counter; I could make no sense of it. I had noticed the bearded man do something fast with his hands but otherwise act normal just when the girls walked past us, then the couple moved aside a bit and I was able to get to look for the sharpie fine point pens; it is not easy for me to identify such things among the many other similar objects. Suddenly there again the two girls were marching past, exactly same as before, apparently having just marched around behind the counter and were repeating the march past me as I looked at them, thinking they looked cute in their outfits and I know girls like to be thought of as cute. One of the girls suddenly said as they walked past me and the bearded man and woman, "thank you" but was not facing anyone, just was right next to me, but did not turn to look at me or anyone. They repeated the methodical march past, I still could not figure out what was going on, but I did think it was an odd thing happening. I finally found a package of two fine-point Sharpie pens; the package was labeled as that but they looked very different than the ones I had had for years. They did not cost much and if they were not the correct thing, not much loss.
Now my subconscious today has brought up the small boy event and the two teenyboppers who appeared to be actors, at Walmart last time.
Also reminds me of another thing recently: new renters next door. Apparently have two little girls, maybe kindergarden age, both seem same size the two times I saw them, maybe twins. The first time was when I was out in my backyard at my garage, I noticed two little girls over at the fence between the two backyards, an old fence with barbed wire on top of it. One of the little girls yelled at me "You're a bad person!" I just turned away and ignored them. A few days later I was cutting weeds in my backyard, and suddenly noticed the two little brightly dressed little girls, this time they were in the space between my house and theirs, where there is no fence nor even the rosebush barrier which is along between the front yards. The one girl was smiling brightly at me while the companion girl was looking game but uncertain; the other clearly was extraverted and the leader. The smiling girl having gotten my attention, then suddenly ran a couple feet into my part of the yard, as if there were an invisible property line; she quickly jumped back onto her part of the property, still gayly laughing and watching me. I waved and said "Hi" then turned away back to my yard work, but I glanced back at them, the one girl, no longer smiling, said "He doesn't want to"; the next glance in that direction they were gone.
My subconscious says "actresses". Peculiar goings on, again. I remember the Shakespeare thing "All the world is a stage" and yet I think sometimes it is moreso a stage than other times.
My subconscious figures out associations, although seems to me to not have things correct all the time. So this blog post seems a way to deal with it. Maybe there are going to be more toughs ready to jump me, but nothing I can do about it.
Now another item my subconscious thinks is related, that repeatedly has come to my memory in recent months. It takes a stretch of imagination and fill-in pieces, however. It is the quote by Neil Armstrong, who had said a bit offline during his walking around on the lunar surface; the controllers asked him about it later but just were answered with a smile. Armstrong had said "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky." The flight controllers thought Mr Gorsky was a rival Russian Cosmonaut, but could find no reference to one with that name. It was very many years later when asked again what Neil Armstrong had meant, that he finally told about it. Mr and Mrs Gorsky had passed away, and now he could speak about it. Neil as a boy playing baseball in his yard, had gone to fetch the baseball which had landed next to the neighbor's house. As he picked up the baseball next to the neighbor's bedroom window, he heard an angry woman yell "You want sex! You want sex? Well you can have sex when the boy next door walks on the Moon!" So, there on the lunar surface walking, Neil had muttered more to himself, "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky."
Kids remember things. I have long noticed what appears to be a widespread very influential effort to block public awareness of my space concepts that can change the future and make some people very wealthy; apparently they want it erased now and waiting for the future, perhaps intending to announce them as their own great inventions, when I am out of the picture, discredited and/or dead. The one problem could be some person who as a kid had gotten to know me and heard me tell of my space concepts, and thus refute the entrepeneur's proclamation that it was a new thing. So one way to keep little kids from becoming friends with me and learning of my space concepts, is to lay a false reputation of me being a child abuser, a bad person, and tell parents to keep their kids away from me. Well, this puzzle-fill-in seems to fit. But is it what is up? I shake my head, who knows what people are up to.
People-stuff is complicated.
The first event was maybe a decade ago, before I moved up here; I had set out from my lowest-rent rathole apartment in Sunland in the early morning as usual, the start of my usual three hour journey of walk, wait at bus stop, ride bus, wait at another bus stop in Chinatown, ride bus, long walk, then arrive to do my volunteer job at the museum of natural history, as I had done for years. Just getting started again on this dull trip, I trudged along stoically ready to endure the three hours; the people who rode the bus system were only the poor people, the downtrodden, we all ignored each other. From my apartment, then the block long walk to the first bus stop. It was rare to see any activity there at that time of day, never anyone else out on foot, and few cars. But this time as I walked toward the bus stop as I crossed a sidestreet, I noticed there were two people walking toward me on the sidewalk, was a tall muscular man along with a small boy alongside him. Something looked odd about them, maybe not father and son; but Asperger's usually cannot figure out people, but if they are out of place at least something some times makes me notice, and puzzle. About then a white sedan comes from behind me, rapidly pulls up to park alongside me on the corner, surely not legal; a lean-mean man hurries out of the driver's side goes around back of car and next is coming up rapidly along the sidewalk behind me. Am fairly dulled, no fun the journey and in the poor parts of town one sometimes sees odd things going on. But about then the tall man and small boy are about twenty feet in front of me and the boy says "He's not the one." The tall man with the boy changes his poker face suddenly into a look of rage and he roars "What do you mean, he's not the one!" Little boy says again, he is not the one. They walk past me, the tall muscleman's face rapidly returning to a different look. I continue the plodding up the hill toward the bus stop. Clearly I was the target of something and if they were going to do it well I could not stop them. And it was silence behind me, nor did I notice anything more of that event. Other than my Asperger's sensory thing had recorded it all in detail, even though my rational mind was not comprehending a whole lot of it; I often figure out things later, much later.
I have had multiple indications that little kids were being told I was a bad person, as shown by their reactions to me. As well as some adults of some acquaintance, they being normal but then blurt out something as if they angrily thought I was a child abuser. Lots of people, like "the word was spread around". And in addition to the small boy per above incident, I suspect I have been saved several times by a perceptive and honest child refuting some adult's contention.
My subconscious has also been reminding me of another of those very peculiar happenings that my mind files away in hopes of making sense out of it. This one happened the most recent trip to Walmart, where I do most of my shopping. It was a predictable trip there, I suppose, having had to drive to a radio club coffee meeting, and since I had driven my car, I made a stop at Walmart to get things accumulated on my shopping list. I had heard from one of the radio folks that Walmart had the fine point Sharpie pens; I still have one that has not run out of ink and so I intended to see if I could find them among the other things at the huge store. I knew where the pens and pencils were along my usual route through the store, and pausing there although I was not seeing Sharpie pens at first, I eventually figured out they must be at the end of the display case, but there was a full-bearded man and a woman there, with a shopping cart; I marked time a bit, the couple seemed to just be standing there, not looking at the pens, but I could not get to where I could access pens there, as a result. I had almost decided to skip it for now, when two teenyboppers came marching past, two girls, dressed stylishly, not pushing a shopping card, just moving staring straight ahead along past me not looking at me, and I tried to figure out what was that about; unable to get to the pens yet, I turned and watched the two girls - maybe 12 years old, and marching along dressed cute but strangely, they went around the counter; I could make no sense of it. I had noticed the bearded man do something fast with his hands but otherwise act normal just when the girls walked past us, then the couple moved aside a bit and I was able to get to look for the sharpie fine point pens; it is not easy for me to identify such things among the many other similar objects. Suddenly there again the two girls were marching past, exactly same as before, apparently having just marched around behind the counter and were repeating the march past me as I looked at them, thinking they looked cute in their outfits and I know girls like to be thought of as cute. One of the girls suddenly said as they walked past me and the bearded man and woman, "thank you" but was not facing anyone, just was right next to me, but did not turn to look at me or anyone. They repeated the methodical march past, I still could not figure out what was going on, but I did think it was an odd thing happening. I finally found a package of two fine-point Sharpie pens; the package was labeled as that but they looked very different than the ones I had had for years. They did not cost much and if they were not the correct thing, not much loss.
Now my subconscious today has brought up the small boy event and the two teenyboppers who appeared to be actors, at Walmart last time.
Also reminds me of another thing recently: new renters next door. Apparently have two little girls, maybe kindergarden age, both seem same size the two times I saw them, maybe twins. The first time was when I was out in my backyard at my garage, I noticed two little girls over at the fence between the two backyards, an old fence with barbed wire on top of it. One of the little girls yelled at me "You're a bad person!" I just turned away and ignored them. A few days later I was cutting weeds in my backyard, and suddenly noticed the two little brightly dressed little girls, this time they were in the space between my house and theirs, where there is no fence nor even the rosebush barrier which is along between the front yards. The one girl was smiling brightly at me while the companion girl was looking game but uncertain; the other clearly was extraverted and the leader. The smiling girl having gotten my attention, then suddenly ran a couple feet into my part of the yard, as if there were an invisible property line; she quickly jumped back onto her part of the property, still gayly laughing and watching me. I waved and said "Hi" then turned away back to my yard work, but I glanced back at them, the one girl, no longer smiling, said "He doesn't want to"; the next glance in that direction they were gone.
My subconscious says "actresses". Peculiar goings on, again. I remember the Shakespeare thing "All the world is a stage" and yet I think sometimes it is moreso a stage than other times.
My subconscious figures out associations, although seems to me to not have things correct all the time. So this blog post seems a way to deal with it. Maybe there are going to be more toughs ready to jump me, but nothing I can do about it.
Now another item my subconscious thinks is related, that repeatedly has come to my memory in recent months. It takes a stretch of imagination and fill-in pieces, however. It is the quote by Neil Armstrong, who had said a bit offline during his walking around on the lunar surface; the controllers asked him about it later but just were answered with a smile. Armstrong had said "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky." The flight controllers thought Mr Gorsky was a rival Russian Cosmonaut, but could find no reference to one with that name. It was very many years later when asked again what Neil Armstrong had meant, that he finally told about it. Mr and Mrs Gorsky had passed away, and now he could speak about it. Neil as a boy playing baseball in his yard, had gone to fetch the baseball which had landed next to the neighbor's house. As he picked up the baseball next to the neighbor's bedroom window, he heard an angry woman yell "You want sex! You want sex? Well you can have sex when the boy next door walks on the Moon!" So, there on the lunar surface walking, Neil had muttered more to himself, "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky."
Kids remember things. I have long noticed what appears to be a widespread very influential effort to block public awareness of my space concepts that can change the future and make some people very wealthy; apparently they want it erased now and waiting for the future, perhaps intending to announce them as their own great inventions, when I am out of the picture, discredited and/or dead. The one problem could be some person who as a kid had gotten to know me and heard me tell of my space concepts, and thus refute the entrepeneur's proclamation that it was a new thing. So one way to keep little kids from becoming friends with me and learning of my space concepts, is to lay a false reputation of me being a child abuser, a bad person, and tell parents to keep their kids away from me. Well, this puzzle-fill-in seems to fit. But is it what is up? I shake my head, who knows what people are up to.
People-stuff is complicated.
Labels: actresses, puzzling events, setups
posted by Unknown at
16:06
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