My life has been ruled by trolls for the past two months, and whether real or imagined, it consumed me. I was a so-called Illuminati puppet highly suggestive and under a trance of which I wasn’t even aware. Although sexual abuse is a dark spot in my past, I’m not a victim of any sort of Monarch Programming or dissociative disorder. I know who I am (for the most part) and I remember everything I’ve said and done, but these trolls haven taken me to the edge. They manipulate things I see in everyday life, on social media, on the radio and in my own backyard, dictating and influencing my life completely. They pull my strings, tell me what I want to hear and push all the right buttons. They have invaded my brain and know exactly what’s inside me. Thing is, everything I’ve experienced over the past two months can be found on this blog, written by me, signed, sealed and delivered. Allow me to explain:
While I can’t prove that trolls have thrown a wrench in my path any more than I can prove the Illuminati exists, I can tell you that the things I’ve written here have come to pass in a very dark and twisted way. Let’s start with this line from my About Me Page:
“…spoiled by all those meanies who feed off the innocent. As I look forty in the face with an open-jawed, wide-eyed look of disbelief, I realize nothing has changed. The meanies are still out there, meaner than ever before, and it just so happens they’re the ones calling all the shots.”
Yup. This is exactly what has happened. Whoever they are (and I assure you they’re out there) the meanies took control over my blog and my life. Next paragraph:
“When 9/11 happened I was in another world with no internet, a fuzzy television in the downstairs lobby, and a limited view of what was happening to my country. It would be at least another ten years before I finally woke up to the scam. Today, it consumes me.”
Not long after September 11 of this year my Internet and cable connection went down at my house. You can find a post about this on my Facebook page. Our service provider couldn’t find the problem but three days later it was miraculously restored. This happened the very weekend these trolls became a burden in my life. As far as the scam goes, once again, I have woken up to it, and to say it consumes me is quite the understatement. Here’s the clincher:
“You can contact me with any tips or words of encouragement, but please no threats, trolls or juvenile criticism, (you’re crazy, go take your meds) is the most recent comment. While I have developed a thick skin through the years, my psychological plate is quite full.”
Absolutely. Nuff said. I may as well have invited the vampire into my house. My psychological plate soon spilled out onto the floor (and onto this blog) but my skin is now thicker than ever before. Thank you, trolls.
Posted on September 11, I wrote this after receiving a weird voice message at work which I soon decoded and felt certain it was a clue from one of River’s friends. These huge leaps and bounds are only a small part of my downfall in all of this, but the voicemail came after my personal laptop suffered a series of computer viruses. I was certain The-Powers-That-Be were onto me and I wanted to let River’s friends know about it. After all, they had contacted me! They wanted to help expose the truth! I had to warn them that the blog had gone hot. The Illuminati was already watching me!
“I caught a nasty virus the other day… Since I’ve started this blog I’ve been hit with an unusual amount of malware, worms and Trojan horses. The last of the three is especially dangerous being that I’m highly allergic to horses…I’m not bitter, just ill-prepared.”
Turns out, the Trojan horses were the comments I began receiving on this blog as well as fan sites on Facebook. Once again, this post was proven correct as the patterns and messages I received through social media sites built me up before nearly destroying me. Facebook was especially dangerous. I was most definitely ill-prepared and while this nasty virus still lurks in the shadows, my immune system continues to fight them off.
And then we have this line from a short post dated August 1, 2015:
“When all of this started a few months ago, I told my mother about my River Phoenix theory and shared with her some of the more convincing clues. Her advice to me? Don’t lose yourself in this, sweetie. Too late.”
Ha! I only thought I’d lost myself. Two months later and up until today (the 30th of October) I seriously questioned whether I needed to check myself into a mental hospital. Family members, friends and coworkers are still toying with this idea I’m sure. Moral of the story, my mother is always right.
Posted back on July 11, this blog entry set me up for my biggest deception in this whole mess which was to actually believe that River Phoenix had moved in across the street from me. I’m getting way ahead of myself but this was the genesis of everything that ailed me. The post begins:
“When I first began researching the death of River Phoenix, I never dreamed it would lead me this far down the proverbial rabbit’s hole.”
Check. No explanation needed. Let’s move on:
“Between the pages of disinformation and propaganda lurks a dark truth.”
Between Facebook posts and pages (propaganda) and comments on this blog (disinformation) lurks a dark truth — I’ve been played. Moving on:
“That night I had a dream that has stuck with me for twenty-plus years. I’m not sure I’ve ever told anyone about it, but I dreamed I had his corpse tucked away in my closet. No one else knew. It was my secret. Somehow that disturbing photo, that lifeless body on display for the world to view was hidden in my closet for safe keeping. I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know how it got there. I didn’t know who to tell so I kept it to myself, disturbed by its existence…”
Through riddles left in the comments section of this blog, I assumed (or led myself to believe) that someone involved, some insider which I later believed to be River himself, moved in across the street from me. Now, in my defense, I do have new neighbors who never seem to show face, have built a kind of barrier in their backyard next to my fence line, and whose lights seem to react to whatever I’m doing. Again, it’s those patterns that either real or imagined will drive you crazy. I actually believed I had River tucked away in my backyard in the house across the street. I told no one. I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t know how he got there. It was my secret.
“She’s absolutely bat-shit crazy, but I digress…Save yourself and come clean.”
Although this line is in reference to Heart Phoenix, it absolutely applies to me now, or at least it did for the past couple of months. Consider this post coming clean and saving myself.
“Through photographs, album covers, song lyrics, and interviews from the people involved, I’ve put together a working theory that may sound a bit far-fetched and may fail to provide concrete evidence, but what else do we have?”
Exactly. What else do I have to prove my theory that well-financed trolls have taken over my life? Through social media, songs on the radio and comments from people on this blog, I’ve put together a working theory that I have in fact been played the fool.
“I believe he [River] had some sort of a plan worked out with his friends (John Frusciante, Flea, Gibby Haynes and even Johnny Depp) but I’m at a loss as to what that plan entailed.”
Yup. Even today, I still hold onto this theory. Are these well-financed trolls actually River’s friends trying to prove a point, or is it all in my head? I’ll return to this later.
Posted on September 19, this entry is where I dug my own grave. From River living in the house across the street, to Facebook fan sites posting poetry and pictures that seemed to speak directly to me, this post was used against me more that any other. The first line is easy enough to decipher as I openly admit:
“This one’s personal. No one likes talking about this kind of thing because it makes them sound crazy.”
Sure does. Sound and act crazy, just ask my friends and family. I describe a dream in the post I had about a year ago which I refer to as Halloween Town. It’s one of those dreams where you keep waking up from a nightmare only to find out it hasn’t actually ended. Repeatedly in the dream I flip on the lights, up down, up down, up down, lights on, lights off, just like what’s been happening with the house across the street. The red glow of a light I keep seeing, the shadowy presence at the window, and leaving a dim bathroom light on all coincide with my nightmare. The house across the street became Halloween Town with River himself manning the blinking lights. It doesn’t stop there. In the dream, my best friend betrays me and is the person responsible for turning our house into a scene from Nightmare Before Christmas. In reality, she’s the one who walked over to the house across the street, River’s house where I was banned from entering (long story), and delivered a letter that the postman happened to stick in the wrong mailbox. When she told me this, I tried my best not be angry (since that letter was obviously meant for me, right?) but I grilled her about who she talked to, who was inside and what did she see? Even after telling me a small Mexican woman greeted her at the door, I was still convinced River was hiding out in the back room. Yeah, I know.
In the post, I also tell of an experience I had with a sales representative at work. I make another loose connection and take the fact that she just sold thirteen Halloween ads as a sign of my rightful path, as if God was actually telling me, “keep walking the walk. This is what I want you to do. Solve the murder of River Phoenix.” A few weeks later in the throes of my insanity and deep paranoia, I came to believe that a different sales rep at work (a male with a huge grin) was in on the scheme and was actually working for the other side (you know, The Illuminati). Facebook posts and comments on this blog helped fuel that fire. From the post:
“I retreated to the bathroom where a sales rep cornered me wearing a huge grin across her face, which was a rare occurrence so I called her on it. “I just sold thirteen Halloween ads,” she said. Of course you did.”
And then we have the part where I bash the River Phoenix fan sites on Facebook. A few months ago I posted a video about the conspiracy behind his death. The reception was less than pleasant. A few weeks later, I’m reading poetry on Facebook from a River Phoenix fan site and thinking it’s all directed at me because River is alive, right, communicating with me through a fan site in broken English. It’s these same fan sites that turned sour. I won’t get bogged down in the details of patterns and the coincidence of timing, but those puffy white clouds turned dark as did various other Facebook posts from people I suspected were involved.
“I posted it [the video] to a fan site on Facebook—big mistake. If it were possible to throw cyber-stones, they would have knocked me unconscious. I really hope I don’t offend by saying this, but the majority of River Phoenix’s fan base is so lost in the puffy white clouds it’s hardly worth the effort.”
Here is where I dig my own grave (again). A few nights after this post, I heard knocking on my backyard fence. Two knocks to the immediate right of me, and not long after, two more knocks further away on the back fence, faint but significant nonetheless.
“I won’t get into this too much here but it follows the same pattern. The answers are all around us, we just have to watch and listen. Jesus knocked and I answered; River knocked and I answered. I can’t put it any simpler than that.”
This next one is a self-fulfilling prophecy:
“The mental breakdown followed the next night. Lacking sleep yet vividly in tune with all that I’d discovered about River, I figured I’d finally lost my mind. Even now I question my own sanity but that night, something happened. Call it destiny, call it fatigue, call it self-induced mania, it fell on top of me. I curled up in bed and wept.”
Yes. Rinse and repeat. This has been my life for the past two months. And then I make yet another Twin Peaks reference: the owls are not what they seem. No, the owls are actually the trolls who have disguised themselves as friends and have manipulated my every thought. I also admit to an increasingly unhealthy lifestyle, a trend that continues to this day.
“It was fun at first. I felt like Special Agent Dale Cooper following the clues that led to the murder of Laura Palmer. The owls are not what they seem. Indeed they are not. I smoke more these days. Drink more, eat less, sleep less, and for what? God only knows.” So am I crazy? Nah, well maybe a little but I’m pretty sure I’m right about most of this stuff. The signs are everywhere, they’re all around, you just have to look and listen.
Yes, look and listen. This way of thinking became an absolute nightmare not long after the post. I began hearing knocks and whistles everywhere I went. Songs on the radio somehow directly applied to me. Passing cars and strangers walking down the street all became clues as if the universe was trying to communicate with me.
“I take pleasure in the madness. I no longer fear it because I know I’m right and nothing else matters. It’s like a drug. It consumes me.”
“The day I discovered the significance of water in River’s story, a rainstorm gathered on a cloudless day and flooded my backyard garden–torrential rain that only lasted for about fifteen minutes.”
A few weeks later I actually experienced the significance of water when Hurricane Patricia blew through Texas. The torrential rains took out the satellite where I was staying and saved me from my social media hell. I was free from the madness and manipulation. Though considered to be the Storm of the Century, Hurricane Patricia formed out of nowhere (gathered on a cloudless day) and quickly died out — her fifteen minutes were up.
“A Luna moth took up temporary residency on the side of my house about a month before all of this began.”
Michael Stipe refers to River as a Luna Moth in a couple of his songs which I’ve mentioned on this blog. I was soon led to believe that River, the Luna Moth, had moved in across the street from me and taken up temporary residency.
“They’re still with us, guiding us, looking down on us—you just have to watch for the signs.”
Yes, the trolls are still with me, guiding me, spying on me and I can’t get away from the signs.
Posted on July 20th, this entry is perhaps my saving grace. I pray to God that this is what is really going on in my life, and that these demons are actually angels heckling me for the greater good:
“I mean change from within. Change that exposes what’s really going on with indisputable evidence. Change that’ll take down the strong man, the kingship, the shadow government. I think that’s what River was trying to accomplish. Show the world the emperor has no clothes.”
Indisputable evidence. I hope so. I’ve been manipulated, used, lied to, my privacy has been invaded, my weaknesses have been exposed, my religion has been challenged, I’ve alienated friends and family…next paragraph:
“Celebrities are on the frontlines. They live in a world more controlled by the strongman than you or I could ever imagine, but the little guy, we’re nameless. Yes they have our names in a huge database recording everything we say and do, but we’re still less controlled than the entertainment industry.”
The little guy, me, at least I used to be. These days, it feels as though The Strongman has taken over my life. The last paragraph of the post has yet to come true but I’m keeping my fingers crossed:
“The celebrities who are in the know about River’s death are trying to tell the followers, you and I, the truth. They’re telling us through their music, their photographs, interviews and art. They’re telling us the only way they know how, discreetly and in a manner that won’t have the kingship ordering, off with their heads! It’s up to us, the little guy, to lead with a voice so strong that these celebrities will finally be free to follow.”
Trolls never admit to being trolls anymore than the devil reveals his true purpose, but I was the hanged-man. Led on, deceived, manipulated and confused as to who to trust, who was who, and what I was supposed to do about it. These trolls have driven me to the point of madness, and I can’t prove that they’re out there anymore than I can prove that The Kingship manipulates and controls the entertainment industry. They have taken over my life and turned my art against me. They have taken something pure and from the heart and somehow turned it into a nightmarish reality. No wonder celebrities don’t watch their own movies. In Dark Blood, Harry Hollywood tells Boy that most wounds we receive in life are self-inflicted. Boy responds with “Fuck you”. I concur. This wasn’t my doing. You don’t need so-called monarch programming to experience this phenomenon. I promise, it can happen to anyone. The meanies are still out there ready to pounce, ready to pollute, ready to poison the heart of your creation. Call it trolls, The Kingship, The Illuminati, The Strongman — they got to me, they got to River, and they can get to you too.