Wyoming / My Story, Chapter IX

Ok... so I bolted from Chicago.  I think the first stop I made to sleep was in some small Nebraska town.  The temperature was about 8 degrees there.  Nothing else interesting to report. 

I noticed something about New York while I lived there.  Movies and popular media in general don't do it justice.  Of course, they are accurate in regard to the general character of the city, but they're no where near to capturing the scope.  When I stopped in Wyoming, I realized this is probably true of any place or region that is specifically unique in its general character.  Sure enough, the barrenness of the landscape in Wyoming is just what the movies depict, but amplified about 5 times.  For a second there I thought maybe I took the wrong exit and landed on Mars.  I had to drive about a quarter of a mile on a bumpy, semi-paved road to get to the little general store and gas station, which you could see from the exit.  Like every other time I got out of the car while in Wyoming, the driving wind blew the door back at me before I could touch Earth.  As I crossed the parking lot, whisps of dust and snow skipping across the ground, I paused and turned about 180 degrees to get a panoramic view of the desolate scene.  It was a scene the movies could never get right--not without the relentless wind.  It was like being in Mad Max, or Damnation Alley (Seen here.), or maybe a Tom Petty video.  (I warned you in an early post I wasn't going to worry much about good writing in regard to the prose.  Plus, at the moment, I'm quite sleep-deprived.)   The flat-roofed building with it's sagging overhangs looked as if a pig had made it out of sticks, but somehow the shanty stood firm among the never-ending gusts. There wasn't another sign of civilization within eyeshot in any direction.  I'm not sure that the place even had a name.

Inside, a woman sat high behind the counter with feet propped up on something and reading a book the title of which I didn't catch, but now wish I had.  (The quality of a story is in the details.)  She hardly moved.  There were some horse collars hanging on the wall and I believe a saddle or two may have been mounted nearby.  The store was well light by the muted-white early winter sun.  The only food they had other than snacks were those plastic wrapped burgers and sandwiches in an upright glass-door cooler case near the entrance.  I  found a double cheese burger or something and warmed it up  in the nearby brown, late-70s vintage microwave.  I asked her if there was anywhere to sit and she pointed out a table at the other end of the room.  The table and chair, with it's decidedly western look, stood out among the depressingly generic scene.  It was one of those chairs made of thick would with a semi-circle that made up

the horizontal frame  of the backrest with carved horizontal posts going through it.  (Seen here)  There were some brass rivets holding vinyl covered padding in place.  There was a checkered table cloth.  I couldn't help but being reminded of saloon scenes from any western you can think of.

As I was finishing my burger, a guy walked in with a very clean look, dark hair in a crew-cut, and a blue waist length, kind of sporty jacket.  He got a snack and as the lady rang him up he made an exaggeratedly loud comment about what he got--chocolate and peanutbutter or something--and it being "my favorite." in kind of a baby-like voice.  That's a main tactic of my perps--talking in an exaggeratedly loud voice, plus, he thought he was identifying something that is my favorite and therefore reminding me of my complete lack of privacy.  He was actually wrong about that--I'm ok with peanutbutter and chocolate, but it's not that high on my list.  I wonder how they got their wires crossed on that one.

It is common knowledge among those of us familiar with gang-stalking that it is done under the guise of community-policing, which is done in conjunction with Fusion Centers, which collect information and conduct surveillance in cooperation with the private sector.  Throughout my experience, I have identified various private companies that are taking part.  Nearly all of them use plain white vans emblazoned with their logo.  Cintas is a major player.  Otis United Technologies is another.  Before I left the midwest, when I was still working at the plant, I recall some Otis guys coming and going.  The next time I saw an Otis pick-up truck was when I saw two of them parked directly outside the shop as I exited a hair salon in downtown San Fransisco after getting a haircut.  They were not there when I walked in and I wasn't in there long at all--less than 30 minutes total.  (I didn't wait at all.)  When I walked out of the last-chance, middle-of-nowhere choke-and-puke in Wyoming while Mr. My-Favorite was checking out, I wasn't surprised at all to see a plain white van with one word in red letters on the passenger door: Xerox.  Not that it really matters, but it wasn't the new logo you see at the link--it was the old Xerox logo.  He was a perp...out in the capital of easily accessible nowhere...at just the right time.  Wow.  Often I wonder what they hope to accomplish by such actions.  The only way it affected me at all was its being a reminder that he was part of it.  Big deal.

I  post this pic because it's clever and funny and somehow came up when I googled "wooden saloon chair".  It has nothing to do with my story.  Something might be wrong with Google.

Joseph C. Zoccali, Clearwater, Florida; Rick Wilson, Niles, Ohio; Christine Faranda, Cleveland, Ohio; Len Spector; Marc Greece, A&E Networks; Reverend David Plank, Palatine Bridge, NY; Carrie (Plank) Bruno, Queens, NY; Cynthia Green, Tech Recruiter; Sioux Logan, Red Stream Technologies; Mike Tricario, MTV; Sean Newman, Columbus, Ohio; Jim Reed, Columbus, Ohio; Zynga; Marty Eggert, Cleveland, Ohio; Kathy Haxton, Cleveland, Ohio, St. Joe’s Medical  Center, Warren, Ohio; Coleman Professional Services, Warren, Ohio; Laura McCormick

An Pham, anpham1111@gmail.com; Anna Stepnova, stepnova@aol.com; Barbara Anne Wolf, wolf.barbara.anne@gmail.com,  (415) 812-4926; Brian Montague, jetbpm@aol.com; Charles Crites, critesfam@sbcglobal.net; EHSOH, lovycera@gmail.com; Elizabeth Nicolosi, elizabethnicolosi@hotmail.com; Kristy Guertin, guertk@spu.edu; Meagan Franz, meaganfranz@hotmail.com; Miyako Abe, mtea2006@yahoo.com; Nora Salah, nsalah01@yahoo.com; Teresa Keller, teresa@rtwwithus.org; Natasha Warder; 

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;