D40x

I think I mentioned something not long ago about treating myself to a new pair of sunglasses.  The reason I did that is because earlier that day or maybe the day before, I had an odd experience while looking at some cheapies.  While I was browsing at the little outdoor kiosk or whatever you'd like to call it over there across from Starbucks on O'Farrell, 3 women who appeared to be maybe in their mid 20s stopped to "shop."  They were really loud and kind of obnoxious and a couple of them stood real close to me.  Finally one nearly shouted, "But I just bought a pair for $400."  That's a very, very good example of the kind of thing I've been experiencing for many, many years as I look back.  It's very subtle and not something anyone else might think a thing of, but it's designed to make the subject insecure.  I'm being paranoid?  Why would 3 women who buy $400 sunglasses stop look at ones you can get 2 for $25?  Actually, there were 4 of them, but the fourth was considerably older.  She came around the corner last, took a quick peak at what I was doing, and with an incredible level of audacity, as if to imply she actually has some sort of authority over how I spend the money that comes into my possession, said, rather dismissively, "That's alright." and they all walked off quite briskly.

I made it a point to make the rounds and shop very thoroughly.  Turns out I saw maybe half a dozen pairs I halfway liked and maybe one pair that was "me."  Because of the substantial lack of selection within my taste, I kind of just blew it off and I was tired of shopping anyway.  When I get around to, I'll probably go with Persol for a change. 

Then, on an unrelated note, I decided to take some of the photos I've been taking with my Blackberry, and despite the terrible image quality in 90% of them, make myself a Flickr page.  I sorted my stuff and figured out what was really good and not so good, which I hadn't really done yet.  I realized have maybe 20 shots that are actually pretty good looking images.  6 or 8 that are excellent composition-wise.  Then, I realized that taking those photos and working with them was and continues to be an excellent distraction from this situation that's been forced upon me.  So, instead of buying those sunglasses that some complete stranger insinuated she's got authority to stop me from doing, I went out and spent about three times as much as I intended to spend on Ray-Bans and got me a rockin' deal on a used one of these.

The state of California is currently flipping for my paycheck as part of unemployment benefits from my time working for the U.S. Census Bureau.  If Jerry Brown would  like to make some input as to how I spend it, I'd be willing to discuss it with him. I sent him an e-mail not long ago that I'd love to discuss with him anyway.  If you aren't Jerry Brown, mind your own fucking business.

I can't wait to learn how to use this thing:

Let's see...what else?  What else?

Oh, yeah... when I see a guy in dark sunglasses peeking around a tree at me do complete 180 when I pull my phone out as I approach him, I know I'm right about all those times I saw him before and that he's up to no good.  I'm getting really good at aiming my phone without looking:



Um...I think that's all I got at the moment.  In case you aren't one of the people who has complete access to every single thing I do, I've joined a couple new Linkedin groups.  That's it.

Oh, no...wait a minute.  Wait a minute.  Various things about my situation have been implied:  that I'm a "patsy."  I posted video of a woman who insinuated I'm a "puppet."  It was the one on the left in the video where the one in the middle covered her face with her jacket--the big one.  I think I saw something recently about "being owned" and I've seen and heard that before.  Interesting.

Tell ya what...I'm far beyond caring what might come of all this.  I'm out to enjoy every minute I can as I complete the reclamation of my mind and pursue justice on auto-pilot.  First a reminder, though:  I never willingly or knowingly agreed to be any part of anything like this.  I know exactly what's going on.  I know the Rev is behind it, etc.  That said, I'll tell  ya what:  If my life doesn't get nice and comfy  and fulfilling  and free of constant surveillance and harassment, or even end real fuckin' quick, I'll out that guy, who I never met before, who told me "You're not supposed to be here." down by Hotel Triton the other day.  Don't think so?  I can identify him.  Take your chances.


.