#random picture of the colorado river !

[larabar]

gonna dump my arches pictures here ^^

[prettyboyporter]

It Started Like This

also on ao3

for @lissieisspacey for harringrove for BLM, who wanted the story behind the cat drawn in this art by @artzeppo

1.5k | M 

It started with Steve clearing out his savings account.

He marched into the bank kind of in a daze, and before he knew it he was blinking in front of a teller and saying, I’d like to withdraw all of my money. She gave it to him, baffled, and he looked down at the stacks of bills -- the college fund that his dad had deposited that never came to fruition because no colleges would take him in addition to the tiny amount he’d managed to put in there from his Family Video earnings.

If he was in a daze before, he suddenly moved as if a meteorite would crash into the Earth if he didn’t hurry. He sped home, took the stairs two at a time, flung open two suitcases on his bed and jammed them full of clothes, a handful of pictures, the little league trophy from when he was nine, a few cassettes, and the little stuffed tiger Billy had given him last night that led to their first kiss.

He snapped them closed as soon as they were full, tossed them in the trunk, and squealed his tires as he took the corner hard toward Cherry Lane.

Neil Hargrove was outside watering his lawn when Steve came to a speeding halt in the driveway, sending gravel skittering.

“Can I help you?” Neil asked as Steve bounded up the stairs and let himself into the house.

“Nope, fuck off!” Steve shouted back over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Neil shouted but Steve didn’t hear what came next because he was already standing in Billy’s room, chest heaving, his lungs trying to catch up with the frenzy of activity.

Billy stood up from his bed and faced Steve, shock written all over his expression. “The fuck?”

Steve’s heart was banging against his sternum. He felt like he was going to pass out. “Come with me to California.”

“What?” Billy asked, a little hysterically.

“Pack a bag, Billy. Fuck it. Let’s just go. Me and you.”

Two heavy boot thumps came from Steve in Billy’s doorway. “You’ll go nowhere with this boy,” Neil said from behind Steve’s back.

Fire flared up in Billy’s eyes -- a fire that had been missing during Billy’s strenuous ten-month recovery from Starcourt.

Last night, the first time that Steve had ever kissed Billy, Billy’s eyes were soft and warm as Steve held the little stuffed tiger that Billy had given him.

Right now, Billy’s jaw twitched, and his eyes were cold as ice. “I’ll go where the fuck I want.”

“You’ll do exactly as I-”

Steve turned around and decked Neil, and Neil went down with a loud thump. I won again, Steve thought. Dustin would be proud.

Billy stood wide-eyed, silent. Time stretched out for a few moments as Billy blinked at his father on the ground. “Fuck you Neil,” he whispered down to Neil’s unconscious body splayed on the hallway floor.

Then, he went digging under his bed and pulled out a suitcase. He started emptying the contents of his dresser into it. “See those crates over there? Start dumping shit in them.”

The crates made up part of Billy’s makeshift vanity. Steve’d always felt sad when he looked at it that Billy had to make it himself since his dad didn’t simply buy him one. He pulled apart the vanity and started filling the crates with haircare products and cologne and random items from Billy’s shelf.

They stood at the trunk of the beemer holding all of Billy’s worldly possessions. Billy paused as he looked at the beemer, then looked over at his own car. His expression hardened. “Let’s take the Camaro,” he said. “Let’s bring her home.”

Steve nodded. It made sense. He wasn’t overly-connected with the beemer in any case.

He left the keys in Dustin’s mailbox with a hastily scribbled note on a Burger King napkin.

Dustin would be 16 soon enough, and he deserved to have a good car. The whole thing felt good and right and when they pulled away, Steve wiped at tears that he hoped were inconspicuous.

They make it through Indiana, Illinois, and most of Missouri smiling, whooping, and fist pumping. They blared Metallica and Ratt and Van Halen. The Camaro felt like a roller coaster flying past corn stalks, flitting greens and fields of golden wheat. Steve stuck his hand out the window and felt the breeze flow between his fingers, free and clear.

Billy laced his fingers through Steve’s on the seat between them. They stopped and shared their second kiss after eating, still tasting of greasy burgers and Cokes with the smell of asphalt in the air.

They shared their third kiss when they spent the night at a motel, neon lights in the middle of a dark night, shining through the crack in their curtains as they slept together but kissed lazily and spooned, too tired to take it any further, too drained after a day of driving and intense emotion. Steve buried his nose in Billy’s curls.

Steve drove the next day with Billy’s hand on his thigh. They drove past more corn while Billy complained about Steve’s Lionel Richie tape laming up the aura of his car, then slept, mouth open and aviators dangling off of his ear. His curls blew around in the air from the cracked window.

Eventually the air grew warm and dry around them. Night settled. The stars appeared and the temperature dropped as Billy laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. He wasn’t asleep -- he just rambled about nothing and Steve dropped his arm around Billy’s shoulders.

“You’re good to me, pretty boy,” Billy said as he took a drag off of his smoke.

“Wouldn’t have wanted to run away and join the circus with anyone else,” Steve said. He planted a kiss on Billy’s forehead.

That night as they were bringing their suitcases into their motel room, a tiny little tabby cat brushed in past their legs, jumped up on the bed, and curled up into a ball.

“Fuckin excuse you,” Billy said to the cat. “Our bed. Skidaddle.”

The cat blinked lazily up at Billy.

“You wanna stay here you gotta pitch in for the room, gato,” Billy said as he placed his suitcase on the stand. Steve closed the door.

“Hey. That cat needs to get out. Open the door back up.”

Steve shrugged. “He looks comfy. We should let him stay.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“I don’t. C’mere gato!” Steve said in a high-pitched voice. The cat stood and walked to the end of the bed, raising his little grey head and closing his eyes while Steve scratched his cheeks and behind his ears, under his chin.

Gato started purring.

“I think we have a cat now,” Steve said.

“We don’t have a fucking cat, Steve.”

That night, though, Gato slept on Billy’s chest. And when Steve woke up, Billy was petting him and cooing.

When they got around to loading up the car, Gato walked out with them and jumped up into the Camaro’s back seat when Steve opened the door.

Billy looked at the cat and shook his head. “I guess we have a cat.”

They found a pet store in the phone book and Steve peeled off some of his savings account money for food, litter, a couple of bowls, and a box.

They stopped one more time at a motel. Gato curled up in Steve’s suitcase on top of his clothes while Steve tongue kissed Billy on the bed, heated, dick hard, got down between Billy’s legs, thick thighs under his hands as he sucked and sucked with Billy’s hand on the back of his head.

Billy did the same for Steve on his knees while Steve braced himself against the wall, breathless, in love, so in love, his heart bursting with it as he spilled into Billy’s mouth.

The next day the Welcome to California sign loomed ahead of them and grew larger as they approached.

Billy pulled the car off to the shoulder as they got close to it.

“What’re you doing?” Steve asked.

“Come on,” Billy said as he exited the car.

Steve looked around and couldn’t see why -- they were near the Colorado River so maybe Billy wanted to snap a Polaroid with the camera he’d purchased yesterday.

Gato got out behind Steve and started playing with the brush on the side of the road.

“Gonna carry you across the state line, baby. Here’s our future,” Billy said, gesturing up at the sign. He crouched down. “Get up on my back.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, and as he started to climb up, Gato scurried up Steve’s back and got up on his shoulder. “And you accused me of being romantic.” He leaned down to kiss Billy’s cheek as Billy started walking forward with Steve and Gato on his back.

It started four days ago with Steve clearing out his savings at Hawkins National. It started there, and ended here, in California, where Billy carried them across the state line, where they found a little loft in San Diego that fit their budget, where Steve found work in a bookstore and where Billy got a job in a repair shop.

It started at the bank, and it ended in love.

[streetlightyeri]

you’re looking at me like you don’t know who i am ; damon salvatore [part 1]

part 1 to house of cards

prompt: a girl shows up at the door of the boarding house looking for directions, and somehow manages to find her way into the elder Salvatore brother’s heart, only for her to see what he truly is

word count: 10,007

-

“blood on my shirt, rose in my hand, you're looking at me like you don't know who I am”

-

A knock on the door brought Stefan out of his thoughts; he listened to see if Damon would get up and answer it, without a doubt close to the door than he was. No sounds of movement came to his ears. He sighed and pushed his chair back. As he walked down the stairs, he saw Damon reading a book. “Really? You couldn’t have answered the door?”

He shrugged, smirking, “Couldn’t hear it.”

Stefan sighed once again, opening the door to see a girl he’s never seen before. Her beachy blonde hair was pulled into two buns on either side of the top of her head with two red scrunchies, two small pieces of hair hanging by her face. She was wearing a yellow graphic tee tucked into a pair of jeans that were held up by a black belt, bringing attention to her socks and shoes. Her eyes were complimented by a light taupe eye shadow and long winged liner; the fading sun caught the white highlight on her cheekbones. She had a confused look on her face as she looked up to Stefan, her hands grabbing the straps of her booksack.

“May I help you?” Stefan asked, holding the door in his right hand.

“Uh, hi, my name’s Angel, uh” she gulped, “Do you know the way back to town from here? I’m really sorry to just knock on your door, but I went on a walk and I got lost. I’m knew in town.” At the sound of a voice he didn’t know, Damon put his book down and walked up behind Stefan, seeing the short girl at the door. The two brothers looked for any sign that she was a vampire or anyone working for a vampire, but she really just seemed to be a lost girl.

Damon began talking before Stefan could, pointing down the street where the lamps were beginning to turn on, “It’s that way, but it’s kinda dangerous around this time of night. I can walk you back to town, if you’d like.”

“O-oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” she spoke, her right foot on its toes on the other side of her left foot.

“Not a problem,” he opened the door more, “Want to come in while I go grab my jacket?”

She hesitantly walked into the boarding house, her eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the enormous living room. While she sat on the couch, looking around in awe, Damon had went upstairs to grab his coat, followed by Stefan after he got her a bottle of water. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, relax, I’m not gonna bite her,” he paused, looking back at his brother and giving him a wink, “yet.”

“Don’t try anything Damon; she seems like she won’t interfere with us later on.” Stefan warned, before going back to his room to finish what he was doing earlier.

Damon rolled his eyes before taking one last look at himself in the mirror and popping his jacket collar. He walked downstairs to see the girl standing and looking at the pictures on the wall, her booksack leaning against the couch where she had been sitting earlier. He cleared his throat, making her jump and turn around; she nervously tucked one of the free pieces of hair behind her ear before speaking, “I’m sorry for looking! I was just amazed by how nice everything in this house is . . .”

Damon let out a breathy laugh, “You’re fine. You ready to go?”

She nodded, putting her water bottle in her booksack and putting it on once more. Damon walked to the door and held it open for her, sending the back of her head a short questioning look once she walked passed and gave him a “thanks.” There was something about this girl that he didn’t understand . . .

As the two were walking to the end of the boarding house’s driveway, she began to make conversation, “How long have you lived in Mystic Falls, uh, what is your name by the way?”

Damon blew out a breath, “Jesus . . . uh, a long time. However, I just recently came back again. And it’s Damon.”

“Missed home?” She looked up to the side of his face, his sharp facial features causing sharp shadows to cast across his face from the street lamps. “Sorry for prying, I’m just super new to this town. Trying to see if it’s worth it.”

“New as in . . . ?”

“Moved in yesterday!” She said with a laugh.

“Why Mystic Falls?”

“Well, I think my brother chose it because he wanted me to finish off my last year of high school quietly.”

“Your brother?” Damon gave her another questioning look, except this time she could see it. His eyebrows came together and his head tilted. His hands were in his pockets as they walked.

Angel sucked in through her teeth, “Yeah, our mom died right before the end of my junior year and we never knew our dad, so, Mystic Falls it was once I turned 18 and we got all the legal stuff figured out.”

Damon’s eyebrows shot up as he looked ahead, “Sorry for asking.”

“You’re fine, there was a lot of free therapy back in Baton Rouge. For some reason they gave out therapy appointments like people in other towns give out casseroles and stuff.” She laughed, taking the piece of hair out from behind her ear.

Damon let out a low whistle, “Louisiana? That’s a far way to come from.”

“We both agreed it was just time to kinda get as far away as possible without actually having to freeze our asses off. This is even kinda cold.”

“Yeah, it is pretty cold compared to what it normally is like around this time of year. What do you think you’ll miss most about Louisiana? The weather?” Damon asked as the two stopped at a bridge with a stream running under it.

Angel propped herself against the railing with her forearms, looking down at the river, “I’ll miss that, of course, but, and I know this is gonna sound weird, but I think I’ll miss the little stuff like the way we speak the most.”

“What do you mean?” Damon was leaning against the railing with his back, facing the opposite way Angel was, allowing him to she her whole face when he looked down.

Angel thought for a moment, “Like . . . when we put away dishes, we say ‘save the dishes’ or instead of ‘going grocery shopping’ we say ‘making groceries’. It’s just something I grew up with and didn’t know other people didn’t say the same things when I went on vacation to Colorado with my family one year and I asked the hotel desk worker where I could save the pens and he just stared at me and asked what the pens were in danger of.

“It seems weird, but I think it’s a comfort thing. My grandma’s first language was Cajun French, so it just makes me feel connected to her. And - sorry,” Angel let out another laugh, “I’m rambling.” She stood up straight and gave an eye smile to Damon, before letting out a shiver.

Damon’s gaze never left her face as she spoke, and when she smiled he felt something deep in his chest twitch, something telling him he had to protect this girl. So, when he saw her body shake from the breeze that passed against the pair, he didn’t hesitate to take his jacket off and hand it over to her. She gave him a thankful look before taking her booksack off and slipping it back on. He noticed that his jacket completely swallowed her, her hands no where to be seen and it went down to the middle of her thighs.

“Oh, it’s really warm. Thank you,” Angel smiled up at him once again.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they continued walking, the sound of Damon’s boots hitting the sidewalk was an odd comfort for Angel and the sound of the different charms on her booksack’s zipper rings hitting each other was an odd comfort for Damon. They began to enter the city, obvious by the increase of cars going by them and the decrease in the noise of the cicadas. Damon was walking on the outside, near the road. “Can you tell how far you are, yet?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s the turn up there. If you want to turn back home, you can. I’m sorry for making you walk all this way with me.” She looked up to him, her hands in the pockets of his jacket; it smelled like bourbon and sophisticated men’s cologne.

“Came this far, might as well see you home.” Damon said, looking back and forth between houses, getting an uneasy feeling. Someone, or something, was there, and it was hungry.

As the two finally set foot on Angel’s porch, she unlocked the door and opened it, allowing Damon to see a sliver into the house that was filled with boxes. “Hey, why don’t you let me cook you dinner? As a thanks and as a I-don’t-really-know-anyone-else-in-this-town-and-would-like-a-friend thing . . .”

Damon agreed and soon he was sitting in her kitchen, the only room that he could see that seemed to be unpacked and moved in. “What are you in the mood for?”

Damon pretended to think for a second, “How about you teach me how to make something you would eat in Louisiana a lot?”

Angel smiled at the fact Damon was trying to get her more comfortable in Virginia. “How about breakfast for dinner? I didn’t really trust Virginia seafood; feels wrong morally.”

Damon nodded, and as she turned around to go back into her fridge he hit a realization. He neck was out, completely for the taking, yet he felt no desire to bite her. She was too sweet; he was more into random-teenagers-making-out-in-a-graveyard type. Something about her turned off his vampire, and he couldn’t deny that he sort of liked it.

When Damon came back to reality, he noticed the counter was now filled with half a loaf of bread, vanilla, sugar, eggs, butter, and some milk all next to a deep glass pan. He shot her a quizzical look, “What is this?”

“Pain perdu. It’s a childhood favorite. My grandma used to make it for me all the time,” she said with a reminiscent smile on her face, and pointing to Damon for the rest of her sentence, “It’s time you northerner figured out what good Cajun food is. Now, I’m gonna go change, and then I’ll be back!”

“What if your brother gets home and I just look like a creep who wants to steal you guys’ food?”

“He told me he isn’t getting back until around midnight. The only job he could score on such a short notice was graveyard at a convince store nearby.” Then, she disappeared up the stairs.

When she returned, she was dressed in a pair of Adidas shorts and a loose white tee shirt, with her hair pulled into one bun instead of two and her makeup wiped off. Damon felt his heart stop for a moment. “Ready?”

The two proceeded to make pain perdu, something Angel didn’t know made the house feel more like home. It felt like Louisiana, but yet Damon made the idea of Virginia a lot less scary. The two were laughing and having a good time with her speaker blaring Cage the Elephant and Paramore songs. By the time Damon left, it was nearing 10:30.

When Damon closed the front door to the boarding house, Stefan was at his side in a second and his voice sounded venomous, “Did you kill her?”

Damon rolled his eyes and went to take off his jacket, before realizing he didn’t have it. His shoulders fell in an attempt to hide it as he walked to the library, “No, calm down. Just, went inside for a bit.”

“Inside? Damon, you know if you even attempt to kill that girl, the whole town will be on alert again.”

He rolled his eyes again as he filled a glass with bourbon and downed it, “I’m not gonna kill her. Like I said, calm down.”

-

Over the next few weeks, Damon found himself outside of Angel’s bedroom window more nights than he’d like to admit. He’d toss a rock until she’d open it; he loved the way she leaned against the window on her forearms and peak her upper body out the window and how her freshly washed hair would fall in front of her shoulders and blow in the wind. Her smile when she would see him would go up to her eyes, and each time it caused the pang in his chest that he didn’t know what it was. He just knew that he wanted to be around her as often as he could and he wanted to protect her from everything that was out there.

He would always tell her to jump down and that he’d catch her, but she never believed him until one day where she decided that if someone was going to get hurt, it was going to be him, so what did she have to lose? And lo and behold, he caught her perfectly fine.

When she jumped down today, he didn’t immediately put her down like he usually does, but rather carried her to the edge of the woods behind her house where there was a group of benches next to a creek. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lay her head on his chest and he swore that his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Everything she did made his heart do that.

When he placed her down on the bench, he wrapped her in his jacket that he had only just recently gotten back. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her arms through the jacket in order to turn the jacket into a cocoon. Damon took the empty spot next to her and she scooted closer to him so that she could lean her head against his shoulder while he had his arm wrapped around her, rubbing her upper arm ever so slightly. She trusted Damon with her life, which was a weird thing to think about in the long run. After a while of the two enjoying each others presence, he pulled his arm back and reached into his pocket, making Angel get on her knees and sit on her heels as she waited to see what he’d pull out. She sent him a confused look as she saw him pull out a thin bracelet with a glass stone that had a purple plant pressed inside of it.

“I wanted you to have this,” he explained, taking her arm and pushing her jacket back to put it on her.

Her eyes had the same light in them that they did when she walked into his house the day they met, “Damon, it-it’s beautiful . . .”

She looked up at him and they made silent eye contact for a few second before she reached up and pulled him down to meet her lips. The two felt like they were in Disney and the fireworks were going off; it felt like they were water in a lightning storm. By the time they pulled apart, they had no clue what time it was or how long they had been kissing. Damon’s thumbs were in front of Angel’s ears and the rest of his hands behind them; he kept their foreheads connected after the kiss, her arms resting on her knees.

“Angel Robicheaux, will you be my girlfriend?” Damon whispered out, to which she responded with a kiss.

-

Most people were surprised to find out that it didn’t take a lot of pleading on Angel’s part to convince Damon to go to the Founder’s Party, but most people didn’t know how completely whipped he was for this girl he had met a mere month and a half ago.

“Please? I feel like it’s a way to get to know the people of the town.”

“Trust me, you do not want to get to know the people of this town,” he dismissed. Damon knew that he couldn’t say no to her if he made eye contact with her, so he didn’t. But he could feel them. He could feel her puppy dog eyes baring into the back of his soul. And the ever-strong Damon Salvatore gave in. “Fine, but don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

When he looked back he saw her eye smile, making him look away in order to stop himself absolutely melting to be wrapped around her finger more than he already was.

At the sound of her doorbell ringing through her house, Angel walked downstairs as she put her long earrings in. When she opened the door, Damon nearly passed out; something about her fiddling with her earrings with her tilted head and her glittery eyes that got covered when she smiled matched so well with the light blue dress she was wearing. She looked like she came out of an old magazine. He took a deep breath as he looked her over, “You look . . . beautiful.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she opened the door more as a signal for him to come in as she walked away. He leaned against the door as he shut it, wondering how this girl from Louisiana managed to get him so crazy for her so easily. He would kill to protect this girl.

Angel immediately wrapped her arm around Damon after he went around the side of his convertible and let her out. Her heels added an extra five inches to her height, but the fact she stood at a measly 5′0″ meant she still didn’t even fully reach his shoulders. She leaned into his side, not seeing anyone she really knew yet. Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline promised to be there; the only problem was where they were hiding. Damon leaned down to her ear, “You know, if you ever get bored when we’re here, we can always leave and go have fun elsewhere.”

She gave him a small nudge and eye roll, no longer as close to his side as she had been. He pulled her closer to him again once they got to the  “Hello, Mrs. Lockwood.”

She gave Damon a smile and Angel a surprised look, “Come in, come in. Hello Mr. Salvatore. And you must be Miss Robicheaux, my son, Tyler, has talked about you quite a lot, by the way.”

Damon raised his eyebrows at her claim, unable to stop the anger beginning to rise in his chest, “Really? Has he?”

Angel smiled and thanked her, pulling Damon inside before anything could happen. She gave him a look, telling him to let it go before she got on her toes to give him a short kiss, “I only have eyes for you.” He was significantly more calm than he had been prior and her arm once more found itself wrapped around his as they walked through the party.

After a short while of walking through the party, Angel caught eyes with Elena who was standing with Damon’s brother and began leading Stefan in their direction, meeting up with the two at the same time as Caroline and Bonnie and their dates. As the three girls chatted, saying hi to Caroline and Bonnie’s dates, Angel didn’t even realize as she rested her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. The four didn’t take notice of the unbreaking eye contact between the Salvatore brothers. In minutes, Angel found herself with Stefan, Elena with Damon, and Bonnie and Caroline switching dates.

“Drink?” Stefan offered up.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” Angel stated, taking a sip after letting out a small scoff.

“Caroline’s a sucker for a dance, I guess,” Stefan stated. It was awkward, the two had never really talked before; she wasn’t even sure if Stefan knew she was officially dating his brother. His next question confirmed that suspicion.

“Angel, how serious are you with Damon?”

“Pretty serious for someone I’ve only known for about a month and a half. He asked me out around two weeks ago.”

“He-he asked you out?”

She sent him a questioning look, “Is that surprising or something?”

“Yeah, well, uh, let’s just say Damon isn’t quite over his ex just yet. I’d ask Caroline; she seems to know him . . . well.” He raised his glass to hips lips as she searched for something to say, but was interrupted by Damon and Elena returning.

He wrapped his arm around Angel’s waist, staring Stefan down. Stefan was doing the same. Angel and Elena looked at each other, confused.

“Damon, do you by chance want to dance?” Angel asked, breaking the awkward tension of the group. When he looked down to see her gazing up at him, he gave his first real smile since he had gotten there. He couldn’t look away from her as they danced. Dance was a strong word, it was more of a sway, with her head on his chest and her arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around her. When the slow song ended, she looked up to see him already looking down at her. She had the world in her eyes and he wanted to tell her he loved her at that moment. She lifted her hand to bring his head down once more, but when their lips touched, he pulled back, wincing. A healthy amount of fear covered Angel’s face, and Damon felt bad for making her worry. But he knew that pain: vervain.

“Babe, did you drink something?” He asked.

“Um, yeah, I drank a little bit of champagne with Stefan when Caroline made us all split up for whatever reason. Why? Are you okay?” The two had stopped dancing, standing like stones in the middle of the moving bodies.

He pretended to wave it off, not wanting to ruin her night, “It’s fine, I’m just allergic to champagne, I think.” He smirked and his voice lowered as he raised his eyebrows and moved to kiss her neck. “Just because I can’t kiss you on the lips doesn’t mean I can’t kiss your elsewhere . . .”

She giggled and pushed him back, but almost screamed at the sight of her boyfriend with dark veins around his eyes and his eyes that held a murderous look. “Not here, Damo - oh my God what happened to your face?”

He glanced passed her and into the mirror, seeing his face. He was getting hungry, and his body didn’t like the fact he was so close to her neck and wasn’t biting. He looked down, rubbing his face as he began to push his way outside, “That champagne must’ve been really strong . . . need some air. Stay here.”

Just like that, she was alone on the dance floor. Her shoulders fell as she watched him leave, only to be intercepted by a seemingly-angry Elena for a few seconds before he walked off once again. Tyler Lockwood walked up to her, seeing the whole scene go down. He held out a drink for her, which she took, downing it quickly.

“He’s an asshole,” Tyler began, only to be stopped by Angel.

“Look, I get what you’re trying to do. I’m sure you’re a cool guy,” Angel whispered before walking off, “but please, don’t.”

She began walking by the edge of the river once her head began to hurt; she hoped fresh air would help her, and maybe she could find Damon. The sound the the water spout in the river helped her block the sounds of the party out and focus, trying to ignore the throbbing pain she felt behind her eyes. What could Stefan have meant? What did Caroline have to do with this? Then she saw it. Caroline being held from behind by a guy; a guy she knew all too well.

“Damon?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Caroline? What is going on?”

No response. The two looked at her like deer in headlights.

“Are one of you going to explain? Or are you just going to stare at me like I’m fucking stupid?” Damon had never heard her this angry before - hell, he had never even heard her angry before.

Elena’s voice saved Caroline, “Caroline, come see.”

The blonde girl took the escape option, Stefan sent his brother a warning glance before turning to take Elena and Caroline home. Then it was just the couple left.

Angel crossed her arms, her words beginning to slur because of her pounding headache, “When Stefan told me you weren’t over your ex, I assumed he was just giving me a warning or something, and when he told me to ask Caroline about it, I was just confused. But now I see, your ex must be Caroline and you must really not be over her. Damon, I thought we actually had something, but I guess I really was just fresh bait to rebound on.”

Damon moved to grab her shoulders, but Angel went to move away. As she tried to move her foot behind her, her whole body gave out. She fell like a bag of bricks, her eyes rolling back in her head. She would’ve hit the ground had it not been for Damon catching her. He tried waking her, calling her name, shaking her, but she was unresponsive. He picked her up bridal style and hoped that she would wake up, just not in the next few seconds that it took for him to get to the boarding house. When he lay her down on his bed and placed a cold washrag on her forehead, he wrapped her small hand in his large one, rubbing his thumb over it. Before he could whisper “please be okay,” she began to stir. She rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up, but Damon shushed her and made her lay back down. “Hey, hey, baby, be careful.”

“Damon?” She asked and when she received confirmation she groaned, “My head is killing me. I didn’t know vodka could do that to someone. Tyler must buy the pure stuff or something; I don’t even know why I accepted it.”

It couldn’t, but Damon kept that to himself. He would deal with that kid later. Right now all that mattered was her. “What do you remember?”

She groaned again, signaling him to turn off his lamp. “I remember us kissing for like half a second and then you left and then Tyler handed me the drink and then I saw you and Caroline, but I don’t even remember what was happening with that. I just remember I was so angry, something I’ve never really felt before, and then I woke up here. I’m sorry if I said something mean.”

Damon swore he was ready to marry her at that moment, “No, you’re fine. Caroline and I were just, looking for something she dropped.”

Angel nodded as he stood up from his spot next to her hip on his bed to close the windows and the curtains. “Babe, can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Can I borrow some clothes to change into? And another wash rag? I feel like if I stand up I’ll puke.”

He silently snorted, “I was hoping that I’d see you in my clothes under different circumstances, if you get what I’m putting down.”

“Damon Salvatore, you may be my boyfriend now, but that doesn’t guarantee you will be forever if you keep talking like that.”

His eyes widened and he turned back to his drawers, puling out an old tee shirt and shorts and handing them to her. When he returned with another washcloth, he saw the original one covered in makeup, sitting on top of her clothes. He also noticed that his shorts were still there, only the tee shirt on her. It’s like she loved to drive him crazy. When he went to pester her about it, he noticed she was asleep; he opted to place the new washcloth on the bedside table and placed a kiss to her forehead before going to track down his brother.

Stefan looked up when he heard his door nearly slam open; Damon was standing there, murder in his eyes. He moved to be in front of Stefan and once he was, his chest heaving from angry breaths, he raised his hand and gave him a firm right hook. Damon took a grip of his brother’s collar, bringing his mouth to his brother’s ear. “If I wanted to bite her, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now? If I wanted to kill her, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now? I’m not one to play with my food. If you even think about doing something like that to her again, I swear to God I will kill you myself. You better count your blessings that she was drunk.”

When Damon let him go, Stefan fell to the floor but quickly picked himself up. “You realize you’re going to have to tell her about everything eventually right? She saw the desire on your face, and you knew you were close to biting her. You only didn’t because of the vervain and the people.”

“You’re one to talk,” Damon scoffed, “Tell me how it goes when Elena figures out what you are. Also, the difference between desire and actions is large: actually doing it. The day I put my fangs in that girl is the day I put a stake through my own heart.”

Damon slammed the door behind him. When he went back into his room, he saw Angel was still asleep; he made a move to grab a blanket off of his bed so he could sleep on the couch in his room, Angel let out a sleepy mumble of “stay, please” and grabbed his wrist. When he got in bed next to her, she immediately moved to lay on his bare chest, and she fell asleep once more to him running his fingers through her hair.

He didn’t expect this to go this far. He didn’t expect himself to be head over heels in love with this girl after a month and a half of knowing each other and that ‘half’ was their only two weeks of actual dating.

-

Damon was lounging in his bed, watching TV as his girlfriend did homework at his desk. He was in need of attention. He rolled to look at her, “When will you be done?”

She sent him a raised eyebrow, looking back down to her calculus, “After however long it takes me to finish it.”

“Can’t you take a break? Or at least do it in bed?” He asked, wanting her to be closer to him than she was. She let out a playful sigh as she gathered her things and moved to sit to the left of his laying figure. She leaned on her right hand to look down into his eyes, and her words came out without her thinking about them.

“You’re lucky I love you, Damon Salvatore.” The second the words left her lips, her eyes widened in realization, as did his. “Sorry, I- uh-”

Damon had never moved so fast; his lips connected to hers to stop her apology. They once more found themselves forehead to forehead, “I love you, Angel.”

The smile he loved oh so much found its way to her face as her cheeks turned red and she slumped down to hide her face. Damon pulled them away and began peppering kisses across her, only stopped by the sound of her notebook hitting the floor, causing her to place her finger over his overactive lips. “Go shower, we’ll see what happens after.”

Angel didn’t think she had ever seen someone get in a shower so quickly. By the time she had reopened her notebook, the bathroom door was closed and the sound of water falling filled the room.

When Damon got out of the shower, he exited with only a towel around his waist, only to see his girlfriend halfway laying down, sound asleep with her homework open on her lap. He sighed lightly, half smiling at how peaceful she looked. He picked up her book and placed it in her booksack and got dressed. Once he had some amount of bottoms on, he took a large, soft gray blanket and threw it over the two of them since she was laying on top of the comforter. He wrapped his arms around her and she sleepily turned around and burrowed herself into his bare chest. He didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky.

-

“Do you guys know if you’re doing anything for Halloween?” Elena asked Angel asked the group. Angel was sitting on her bed, painting her toenails with her foot propped up on her bedside table, Bonnie was sharing the large beanbag on the floor with Caroline. Elena was sitting at Angel’s desk, slyly looking at the pictures of Angel and Damon that were pinned to the cork board. She wanted to tell Angel what Damon really was so badly. Elena felt nothing good could come out of the relationship between Angel and Damon; he had to have an alternate motive. There was no way he just genuinely liked this girl; Damon wasn’t capable of that . . . right? Elena and Bonnie never brought up the night of the Founder’s Party, assuming that Damon had compelled her to not remember anything; as for Caroline, they convinced her that it wasn’t a game she wanted to play.

Angel shrugged as she continued painting her nails, “I was gonna see if there was like a haunted house or something around. I was gonna ask y’all actually. Don’t really know what the Halloween scene around here is like.”

Caroline got excited, “There’s a haunted house, we should all go. It’ll be fun.” Then she took a long look at the Elena and Angel, “No boys though. Ladies night!”

Angel laughed as she closed up the nail polish bottle, “Sure. But you can explain to my boyfriend that the reason he can’t see me dressed up as hot Cher from Clueless is because of ‘ladies night’.”

A nice silence fell over the group before Angel broke it, “Hey guys . . . do you think they’ll ever find Vicki? It’s scary to think about. Like, she just . . . vanished.”

Damon went to answer his phone, only to have it snatched out of his hands by Stefan. “Really, Damon? You want to talk to Angel while you have someone who you just turned into a vampire in the house? Not gonna let it happen.”

Stefan let the call go to voicemail, and played it for Damon to hear before placing the phone in his pocket, “Hey, babe, uh . . . I’m going to the school for the haunted house thing. I’ll swing by if I’m not too tired afterwards? Call me when you can, love you.”

On the other side of the call, however, was a dressed Angel. She placed her phone down and took a sad breath as she looked into her mirror; her hair was straightened, going down to just under her breasts, which were covered by a white tube top and a yellow and black plaid blazer. Her skirt matched her blazer and she had white knee high socks on that led to her white Keds. Bonnie came up to Angel when she exited the bathroom, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. This is ladies night. I am not going to let my dense boyfriend ruin it.” Angel tried to reason, but Bonnie knew there was something else, and Angel knew she couldn’t keep it a secret once the tears began to fall as she sat on the edge of her bed, looking up to her friend, “Damon, he - he hasn’t called me back since we slept together. And I keep remembering this stuff from the night of the Founder’s Party where Stefan told me he wasn’t over his ex and I only remember him mentioning Caroline, but I don’t know what he said about her. I can’t remember anything from that night besides vague details. Bonnie, am I just a rebound? Did I really let myself believe that he saw me as something other than a dumb high schooler?”

Bonnie sat next to Angel wrapped her in a hug, her witch costume not the most comforting material in the world, but Angel didn’t care. After only a few seconds of her comforting, the two were interrupted by Caroline bursting into the room, “Have either of you seen, or even heard from, Elena? Oh . . . oh Angel, what happened?”

When Caroline heard the story, she couldn’t help but glance over to the pictures Elena was inspecting just the other day. She knew she couldn’t tell Angel what was happening between her and Damon, both for Angel’s safety and for the sake of her heart. Caroline took a seat next to Angel and took a hold of her hand, “Listen to me, Angel. I don’t how, or what all happens in his head, but when he sees you, there’s like a button in Damon that changes. We had a . . . thing, but it’s over. There’s something about you; I don’t know what, but you turn him into a different person. Look at your cork board. I never saw a side of Damon like that, he never would’ve agreed to go into a photo booth with me, let alone kiss in one. I think you just need some time away, which is why you’re going to leave your phone here and we are going to have the night of out lives. Now, where’s your makeup bag? We need to touch up your mascara.”

Angel smiled as Caroline pulled her and Bonnie up, taking her to her vanity and sitting her down. Neither of the girls noticed when Angel took off her bracelet from Damon and didn’t put it back on.

As the three entered the school, they were met with Tyler Lockwood immediately, offering drinks. Caroline took one before Angel could protest, and Tyler tried to push one on the other two girls. “No, thanks,” Angel stated, not breaking eye contact, “I think we both know how it’ll turn out.”

“What happened there?” Caroline laughed as she took another sip of her drink before pouring it out into a nearby plant at Angel’s next words.

“I’m pretty sure he tried to roofie me at the Founder’s Party.”

As time passed, the girls began giving up hope that Elena would show. They were slowly descending into a drunken stupor, making sure to check that Tyler was no where near the drinks they got. “Hey, Matt, how’s the party?”

“Great, uh, just feel a little confused,” his voice lowered, “Vicki’s here, so could you guys keep an eye on her if you see her? It took all the power she had to convince me to let her come.”

The girls agreed, a wave of unspoken relief washed over the girl at the news Vicki was safe. They wandered into the haunted mansion, each taking bets on who could get out the fastest and proceeding to slip into different paths. When Angel was running through, trying to beat her friends, she felt a pull at he wrist, only to come face to face with Vicki. “Uh, hi Vicki, are - are you good?”

Angel had never really spoken to the girl alone before, but rather in a group. She didn’t really know how to start a conversation with her normally, let alone after she returned from a stint of being gone from home after she witnessed her friends being murdered. Vicki didn’t respond, but rather grabbed Angel by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes before muttering a “hope this works.”

“Go to the exit and wait for me and Jeremy. If Stefan or Damon comes, don’t let them touch me or him.”

Angel nodded and walked off to the exit, taking her outside, where she waited. She stood with an empty look in her eyes, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Damon was sitting at the Grill with Mrs. Lockwood; he didn’t expect his night to be this way. He more expected a Halloween party with his girlfriend, who was without a doubt, dressed hot as hell. Instead, he was holding out on those thoughts so that he could talk to this woman who was 8 martinis in and was revealing way too much about the Founder’s Council. His fingers played with the rim of his glass. “Didn’t you come to the party with a girlfriend? The high schooler?”

Damon mentally apologized to Angel for what he was about to say, “I was just entertaining her for the night. New in town, so what better way to meet the right people of Mystic Falls than to go to the Founder’s Party with a member of a founding family?”

Later, when he was at the school, he walked up to Bonnie, looking down into a cauldron filled with juice. She gave him a sour look, letting him know he wasn’t welcome.

“Why the harsh look? After all, I’m just here looking for my girlfriend,” he said while filling a cup, “And of course, to get that crystal that’s around your neck.”

Bonnie shook her head, narrowing her eyes up at the elder Salvatore, “Which girlfriend are you talking about? Because as far as I’m concerned, leaving a girl in the dark after sleeping with her isn’t the best way to show your affection. Nor is kissing her best friend and turning her into a snack. Angel will find out eventually, and at that point, it’ll be too late to apologize. But you know that, don’t you? Here’s a thought: why don’t you stay away from both of them? And you’re never getting this necklace back.”

Damon tried to grab the necklace off of her, causing it to burn his hand and give Bonnie the chance to run away. As he focused on the burning sensation of his hand, he heard a scream from far behind the school. However, the scream belonged to a voice he knew all to well: Angel.

As Angel kept watch for Vicki and Jeremy, she tried to ignore the sounds of them making out and Jeremy’s confusion as to why she bit his lip. Then she heard Jeremy’s exasperated huffs as Vicki began to become dangerous, yet her body wouldn’t allow her to run or even move. She saw Elena throw open the door to the gym followed by her running to find her brother amongst the school buses, only giving Angel a few seconds to explain why she wasn’t doing anything.

Angel’s response was quiet and calm, “Vicki told me to keep watch for Stefan and Damon.”

Elena knew she couldn’t do anything about the fact Angel was acting under compulsion, so she just had to hope that she would be able to run when given the chance again. Elena moved to pull Vicki off of Jeremy, throwing her into the open space between the buses and the gym; Elena’s hopes for Angel’s safety were immediately thrown out the window when Vicki realized that she hadn’t told Angel to stop Elena also. The next thing Elena and Jeremy saw was a flash of yellow plaid as Angel screamed and landed in a pile of glass. She struggled to stand when Stefan exited out the same door Elena had earlier; when Angel pulled herself up, she hobbled over to Stefan, glass still in her hands, legs, and side causing blood to pour from multiple areas on her body, staining her socks and blazer. She tried to push Stefan back, but he easily stopped her, but couldn’t override Vicki’s compulsion. He pushed Angel out of the way and made his way to Elena and Vicki; Angel went to follow after Stefan, but stopped when she saw Damon. Unaware that she was under compulsion, he moved closer to her, only for her to attempt to push him back, her blood getting on his shirt. “You can’t go, you can’t help Stefan. Vicki told me to stop you. I’m sorry.”

Damon grabbed her wrist and lifted it to his eyes, pulling her blazer sleeve down to see the bracelet he had gotten her was not on her wrist. Damon pulled Angel’s chin down to make eye contact with him, “Don’t listen to her. Listen to me: go find Bonnie, have her take you to the hospital, and forget what happened out here.”

Damon watched as Angel walked away, not looking back. When he looked down he saw that there was blood on his hands, no doubt from Angel’s wounds, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his hand to his mouth. He was only stopped when he turned around to see a dead Vicki on the ground, Stefan leaving him to deal with her as he went to bring a mentally scattered Jeremy home.

Damon walked over to Elena, who was standing over Vicki. She began hurling her disbeliefs at him, asking him how he could do something like this, just for his own fun. Damon could handle her anger; it didn’t phase him, he truly meant it when he said nothing about Vicki mattered to him. It wasn’t until Elena brought up Angel that he snapped. “What about Angel? Does she really not matter at all to you? What about Caroline? I should’ve told Angel about you before she went off the deep end and fell in love with you. What happens when she find out about the fact you’re a vampire? What happens when you can’t control yourself around her anymore? I saw what you did after she left. Your lies are a web and they will catch you one day, and that day is soon. You’re only going to hurt her and you know it.”

He grabbed Elena by the neck, his eyes filled with fire. “Mention my girlfriend’s name again with the subtext that I won’t protect her and I won’t hesitate to make you regret knowing the Salvatore brothers’ secret. You need to leave.”

“Just stop hurting my friends.” Elena spit out before leaving.

-

“Hey, Angel, you should come to my party tonight! It’s at the Grill and your boy is gonna be there!” Caroline sung over the phone.

“I would, but I have a lot of college stuff to do. I’m sorry Caroline.” Angel responded, sighing.

“Oh come on, please? Just for an hour? I’ll take you home myself. when you’re ready to leave. You need to have some fun, all you’ve been doing recently is college stuff.” She pleaded.

“Fine, Caroline, just for you.”

Caroline giggled through the phone, “Sure, ‘just for me’.”

“See you later, Caroline,” Angel laughed, hanging up.

Angel once more found herself answering the door to see her boyfriend standing there, dressed in his usual white shirt, black pants, and leather jacket. His mouth nearly fell open when he saw her dressed in a pink cropped sweatshirt over another pure black crop top paired with jean shorts with suspenders attached and two different pairs of fishnets. “Whew, Virginia has changed you. You know every time I see you, you just get hotter, right?”

“That’s the goal.”

“Not gonna wear anything warmer?”

“That’s your job.” She winked at him, making him groan as she leaned over and tied herself into a pair of black Vans before exiting her house and locking the door behind her. “If you can see it from the front wait ‘till you see it from the back.”

He stopped her from walking down her porch stairs by grabbing her and wrapping his arms around her, her back to his chest. He leaned down to her ear, his voice low but still powerful enough to make a shiver run down Angel’s spine, “If you keep acting like this, I will not hesitate to bring you behind the party and make you forget every name but mine.”

She smirked, and something about her glossy lips shining in the little light from the moon drove him crazy as she whispered back, “Well, then don’t do anything to mess up your chance then.”

With that, she headed to his car, leaving Damon there to take a deep breath and look down to hide the desire on his face. He was glad she wasn’t looking at him; he couldn’t hide behind the excuse of champagne anymore. He didn’t look up until she called out for him, “Are you gonna come or will I have to drive myself?”

He shook his head, smiling to himself; she was so perfect. He wanted to live in this moment forever. Her smiling, sexy figure standing by his convertible, waiting for him in the cool autumn night.

When the two arrived to the party, nearly every male in the bar turned to look at Angel with crazy eyes; it was undeniable that she was extremely attractive, especially dressed to the definition of sex appeal. Damon wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pressing his lips to hers before the two separated.

Caroline’s jaw opened when she saw Angel walking up to her and Bonnie, causing Bonnie to turn around and do the same. “Oh my God. You look . . . hot.”

Angel looked confused for a second, “Thanks. I think?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a compliment . . . it’s just you normally dress so . . . not dark.”

Angel laughed, taking the empty seat at the table the two were at. “Let’s just say I thought about what you said, Caroline, and you were right. I’m gonna have some fun.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, “Oh no, don’t tell Caroline Forbes she’s right. She’ll never let you live it down.”

“Well, I’m gonna go get us some drinks. How’s that sound?” The two girls nodded and Angel found herself once again standing. As she was walking to meet Damon at the bar to con him into getting the group shots, she was stopped by a female voice, “He’s not the type you want to mess with.”

Angel turned to see a blonde girl with a round face standing at the the pool table, staring at her. When she gave her a questioning look, the girl motioned her over. When Angel stood next to her, Damon took a look behind him, scanning the crowds, looking to make sure she wasn’t being bothered by anyone. Then he saw her with the crazy, and tuned in.

“My name’s Lexi, by the way. I’m a friend of Stefan’s. The Salvatores and I go way back. I just wanted to warn you about Damon; I saw you walk in with him, please don’t expect more out of him than a night. I’ve seen a lot of girls do it.”

Angel had never been so confused. Why was everyone so cryptic about Damon? What was everyone not telling her? “You mean my boyfriend? Damon and I have been dating for a month.”

Lexi’s eyes widened, “D-Damon asked you out?”

“Yeah, uh, is that weird. Is there something you want to tell me besides that you don’t like my boyfriend? I don’t want to sound mean, but I just don’t understand what this is about.”

Lexi shook her head, looking down in confusion before looking back up and making eye contact with Angel. “Tell me, has Damon ever tried to hurt you?”

Angel squinted at Lexi, “No? Are your eyes okay? Your pupils are like, freaking out.”

“Sorry, just noticed your bracelet. Who got it for you?”

“Damon . . .”

Lexi cursed under her breath, “So you truly like Damon?”

“Yeah? I love him, he treats me like a queen, honestly. Can I go talk to him now?” Angel answered, leaving immediately after Lexi gave a small ‘sorry, yeah, of course’.

When Angel finally got to Damon, she noticed his grip on his glass of scotch was deathly and his jaw was locked so hard it seemed almost painful. When her hand touched his shoulder, his body relaxed. “Hey, baby, you okay?”

He turned on the stool to face her, grabbing her and bringing her closer, whispering in her ear. “Now that you’re here, of course I am. Gonna let me shoot my shot, yet?”

“Too early in the night. I promised Caroline I’d at least stay an hour. After than, we can have as much fun as you’d like. For now, why don’t you entertain my group and buy us some drinks?” She teased, her elbow resting on the bar and her head propped up on her fist.

He groaned, “You’re gonna make my pockets hurt.”

She sent him a wink before taking the drinks back over to the table, “That’s the point.” When she arrived to see a peeved Bonnie and no Caroline, she sighed and handed Bonnie the extra shot that was meant for Caroline.

“She tried to rip my necklace from my neck.” Bonnie explained, “She wanted it for Damon.”

This night was never ending confusion for Angel, “Why does Damon want some crystal necklace? Why didn’t he ask you himself?”

Bonnie gave Angel a smile, but there was pity in her eyes, “Angel, how much do you actually know about Damon? Have you seen him around others, like, truly, not just in passing? Have you seen him interact with Caroline, ever, not when you were drunk? He’s bad news; I don’t know what’s up with him around you, or if it’s even real. I don’t know how you fit into the bigger picture. But you need to be careful around him.”

Angel couldn’t respond before Bonnie got up and walked to meet Elena, who was taking her turn with Lexi, but her conversion seemed to be going a lot better. Angel took a deep breath and downed her shot, heading to the bathroom.

The bathroom door closed behind Angel, and she went to make the corner, but she saw Caroline talking to Damon at the end of the hallway. She stopped and moved out of sight, but luckily she was still in earshot. She heard everything, all the insults he hurled at her, but shallow was the one that hurt the most. He didn’t know Caroline like that. She seemed shallow on the surface, but she really just wanted the best for her friends. When she heard the sound of Damon’s boots beginning to walk away, she couldn’t help the anger inside of her that caused her to walk up to him and grab the back of his jacket, causing him to turn to see what idiot was doing that. His eyes widened when he saw that it was his girlfriend; he had never seen such fire in her eyes. Caroline used the altercation as her chance to get away, but not before she heard Angel defending her.

“Are you fucking crazy? Is that what people mean by how much of a dick you are? This is how you treat other people? Really? I can’t believe I was so fucking blind! You dare call Caroline shallow, but it’s you who’s shallow! You use me as a fuck buddy and tricked me into falling in love with you,” Angel grabbed his jacket and pulled him down to ensure that only he could hear her last sentence, “If you dare insult anyone else ever again, I swear you;ll hope you never see me again.”

Angel tried to walk off, but Damon grabbed her wrist, trying to get her to listen to him, but she shook him off, her bracelet coming off into his palm. Her words were venomous; he had never seen her like this before, “Let go of me or I will scream.”

Damon watched as she stormed out the Grill through the back exit. He heard Lexi behind him, warning him to not go out after her, “You don’t want to play that game right now.” It took everything in him to not kill her right then and there; that was for later tonight. He pushed passed her and took his seat back at the bar, ordering the strongest thing they had three times over.

Angel’s star gazing session behind the Grill was interrupted by the sound of a commotion happening up front. She walked up the side of the building, confused as to what was happening. When she heard a scream, she began running towards it. She couldn’t just stand there while someone could need help. She ran through the overgrown pathway, landing in front of a tunnel to the right of the Grill. She took a glance down to see Damon standing there, his teeth sunk into a sophomore, forcing his girlfriend to watch. She screamed, causing Damon to look up and blood to spill from his mouth onto his shirt. Damon dropped the boy and began to approach Angel, but she ran as fast as she could, but she wasn’t fast enough. He stopped her on the sidewalk, grabbing a hold of her from behind; he kept a hold of her as she began crying and begging him to let her go. “Please, Damon, let me go, please. I promise I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Please. I’m sorry for what I said earlier, please don’t kill me. Please let me go.”

He had never seen so much fear in anyone’s eyes. Her sobs hurt to hear and her struggling hurt to feel. It pained him to know she was like this because of him. “Shhh, shhh, I won’t hurt you.” He tried to move the hair out of her face, but it proved to be a bad choice on his part. She moved to cover her neck with her hands, fer face covered in tears.

When she realized he wasn’t letting her go, she seemed to accept death and began challenging him, thought she still thrashed in his grip. “You killed that boy. Did you kill Vicki? Did you kill those people in the graveyard? How many other people have you killed? Have you ever thought about how they felt, or how their families felt? Not knowing what happened? You’re a killer. A murderer.”

Damon grabbed her face and brought her eyes to meet his, his pupils moving; the fear was now mingling with anger and hatred. Those were the three things he hoped he’d never see in her eyes; he had promised himself at one point to kill whatever caused that pain, but right now, he had to accept that it was him and all his lies that caused her pain. “Listen to me. Stop thrashing.” Her body went limp, and he hated himself for it. He also promised himself that he would never compel her for his own gain. His heavy breathing didn’t let him feel as she reached her bracelet that was peeking out of his jacket pocket, thinking of Lexi’s comment about it earlier when her pupils did the same thing. “Go home. Forget this happened.”

He watched as she walked down the street, headed towards her house. He almost missed the small clink of something hitting the pavement next to her. Her bracelet.

She didn’t forget. She knew; she knew too much.

[sillykittyz]

Ocs as vines pt. 2

(why yes i did make another one, why? because i love making content for my ocs, also, warning: cussing.)

Moony: Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming. *turns a mini animal into stone and throws it.*

*Harper shoots a gun into the ceiling*

Margaret: *falls off couch* THIS IS WHY MOM DOESN’T FUCKING LOVE YOU.

Harper: *to a bunch of snowmen* Hail satan!

The snowmen: HAIL SATAN! HAIL SATAN!

One random snowman: Hail satan!

*Sammy (his brother) throws a frisbee into a tree*

Moony: What the fuck Sammy?

December: Get to del taco, they got a new thing called- *wheezes* f-FR E SH A VOCA DO.

Willow: We all die you either kill yourself or get killed.

Willow: *dancing* What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Marina: I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand.

Alex: POSIDEN QUIVERS BEFORE HER.

Marina: FUCK OFF!

Salem: Hey i’m lesbian.

Alex: I thought you were american.

Sophie: *making fun of Ice* On all levels expect physical, I am a wolf. Yip!

Nova: What’d you say?

Ice: I said whoever threw that paper, you’re mom’s a hoe!

Nova: So... this is Kansas, but this is not Ar-kansas, AMERICA EXPLAIN, EXPLAIN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN ARKAN-SAW?

TV: Who’s that pokemon?

River: IT’S PIKACHU!

TV: It’s clefairy! 

River: FUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Juniper: RIVER! IS THAT A WEED?

River: No this is a crayon-

Juniper: I’M CALLING THE POLICE! *types 911 into a microwave*

Microwave: 911 what’s your emergency?

Jasper: Ladies and gentleman welcome to, T-T-T-T-T-TARGETTTT!

Amethyst: Hey Opal you want some?

Opal: This bitch empty, YEET!

Jasper: So i’m sitting there... Barbecue sauce on my tities...

Alexandrite: *on the ground laughing*

Jade: Alexandrite? Alexandrite? Alexandrite! Oh my fucking god she fucking dead.

Splatter: Hey how much money do you have?

Spots: Uh, like, 69 cents.

Splatter: Ah! You know what that means!

Spots: *crying* I don’t have enough money for chicken nuggets.

Random Queens newsies:*about to take a picture of Sundew & Splatter* You guys say Colorado!

Spots, skiing past them in a giraffe costume: I’M A GIRAFFE!

Sundew: Um, Spots could you read number 23 for the class?

Spots: No i can not.

Spots: What up, i’m Spots, i’m 13, and i never fucking learned how to read.

[kat-feinated]

My favorite Denver restaurants

How was your week?

My week included being invited to have a threesome with two of my work clients, who are both meth addicts and lost custody of their child due to said meth addiction.

My boss asked me to send the text to her and just replied “FOR GOD SAKE” and I feel like that’s the perfect summary of my year.

Speaking of meth, we finally finished watching “Tiger King” this week. I know I know, that show is so one month ago. But I have a lot of thoughts that I need to share with the world.

1. Did anyone else find Joe really sympathetic and felt bad for him? Yes, I know he’s unstable and probably killed animals and stuff but I found him...endearing!? 

2. Doc Antle is the creepiest ever ever ever. 

3. Jeff Lowe sucks. And his wife is way too young for him. And THE WHOLE THING WITH THE NANNY I JUST CAN’T.

4. The guy with no legs whose name I can’t remember was my favorite character. And just seems so normal. How did he end up there!?

5. I’m proud of Saff for standing up for Joe in the aftershow...everyone else just sold him down the river!

6. Howard Baskin. Howard Baskin singing. Howard Baskin’s wedding photos with Carole Baskin. The show is worth watching just for Howard Baskin.

7. Do I think Carole murdered her husband and fed him to a tiger? Yes. Would I still hang out with her in a heartbeat? ABSOLUTELY.

8. I’m extremely mad that I didn’t come up with “hey all you cool cats and kittens”. And now it’s already over-used.

Do you miss eating at restaurants as much as I do? (Probably not because you’re probably a normal person who has friends and other hobbies). I miss restaurants so much it HURTS. I miss looking up menus and deciding what I’m going to order days before I go. I miss people-watching and commenting on everyone else’s food. I miss kind servers bringing me baskets of bread and drinks that I didn’t make. I MISS RESTAURANTS YOU GUYS.

So, while I’m eagerly waiting for restaurants to start re-opening, I thought it would be fun to share my very favorite places to eat in Denver. Share this list with your favorite Denver local! Or better yet, come visit Denver and try these spots out (and invite me!!). 

Cuba Cuba: This was the first restaurant I tried in Denver, because it’s across the street from our old apartment. It’s located in an adorable blue bungalow but is surprisingly spacious on the inside. For drinks, order their house made mojitos or a pina colada. For appetizers, order the plantain chips with guacamole and garlic sauce (YUM) or the empanadas. Everything I’ve eaten there for dinner has been delicious, but I especially love the coconut shrimp and the chimichurri steak.

Perfect for: a date night or girls’ night where you feel like getting a little dressed up (but you’d be fine going there dressed more casually).

Rioja: This is my mom’s favorite Denver restaurant, and she insists we go every single time she’s in town. It’s located in Larimer Square, the cutest and most charming street in downtown Denver. It’s a bunch of old Victorian buildings that have been converted into restaurants and shops, and the street is decorated with twinkly lights and Colorado state flags so it’s a great spot to get a touristy picture when you visit.

The menu changes constantly, so it’s hard to recommend exactly what to order, but you can’t go wrong with the pasta dishes. They are known for their artichoke tortelloni and it’s honestly the best pasta I’ve ever eaten in my life. Last time we also ordered the tagliatelle and clams which was fantastic. For starters, order the smoked pear and raclette if it’s available-so yummy.

Also, Rioja makes all their bread in house, and it’s probably our favorite part of the restaurant. Waiters literally come around with a giant tray of bread and I always try every single type. The lavender sourdough and rosemary biscuit are life-changing.

Perfect for: when your parents come visit (and pay!) or a special occasion like an anniversary or birthday dinner. It is on the pricey side.

Work & Class: This is probably the Denver restaurant I’ve eaten at the most. Located in the very hip Five Points neighborhood, Work & Class is always busy and does not take reservations, so I would recommend going on a random weeknight vs. a Friday or Saturday. If you do go on the weekend, plan on an hour plus wait-the good news is you’re surrounded by bars and breweries to help pass the time.

Work & Class is a South American/American fusion restaurant, and everything is served tapas (small plates) style, so go with someone you are cool sharing with. They have fabulous in-house cocktails which change seasonally, so definitely order one while you peruse the menu. It’s hard to make food recommendations since I’ve probably tried everything on the menu and have never been disappointed, but some of my favorites include: the lamb, the empanadas, the mac & cheese, and any of their vegetable side dishes.

Perfect for: your group of friends who you’re comfortable sharing with (eating off of each other’s plates!).

Mercantile Dining & Provisions: This is another spot that my mom insists on visiting every time she comes to Denver. It’s located in Union Station in downtown Denver, which is itself a great spot to visit. It’s an old train station (that is still a working train station) but also home to a hotel, an ice cream parlor, a bookshop, a florist, and every other small adorable business you can imagine.

Mercantile serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner (I’ve had all 3 there), but my mom and I have created what we believe is the perfect system for dining there. We always go on the day she is leaving town, since she can take the train from Union Station to the Denver Airport after our meal. We try to go around 11am, and we order a raspberry muffin. My mom doesn’t even like muffins, but these are no ordinary muffins-not too sweet, perfectly fluffy, moist (I’M SORRY) -just sheer perfection. After sitting and people watching for about an hour, we then order a short rib sandwich around noon, as soon as they start serving their lunch menu (it gets quite busy at this time). SO GOOD. SO TASTY. Plus, the restaurant itself is so cute-it looks like Joanna Gaines designed the perfect black-and-white chic modern farmhouse.

Perfect for: brunch/lunch after a morning exploring downtown Denver, or a quick bite before catching the train to the airport.

Lowdown Brewery: Is it cheating that this is actually a brewery and not a restaurant? I say it counts because they make all their food in house. I don’t always love going to the popular breweries around Denver because they’re usually packed. I’ve never seen Lowdown packed and in my opinion it’s the best brewery in Denver in terms of food and ambience-and the beer is good too!

Not only do they make and sell their own beers, but their menu always features a seasonally rotating list of Colorado beers as well. They have a lot of IPA’s (which I despise but everyone else seems to love). I’ve tried their blood orange wheat, selfish (pale ale), and their blackberry sour and have enjoyed all three. In terms of food, you can’t go wrong with any of their pizzas, salads, or sandwiches, but I personally can’t get enough of their beer cheese dip (served with broccoli, apple slices, and soft pretzel bites-I’M DROOLING).

Perfect for: sitting out on their patio with friends in the warm weather. Bring your dog!

El Five: El Five has one of the coolest views of downtown Denver, not to mention delicious food and drinks and great service. Their sangria is the best I’ve ever tasted, but they have tons of great cocktail, beer and wine choices if that’s not your thing (but also what is wrong with you). For appetizers, try the spreads of the med-a platter of house made pita, hummus, and veggies. For their traditional tapas, I’ve tried and enjoyed the patatas bravas, the shrimp & calamari, and the goat cheese croquettes. Then, of course, you must try their paella. I’ve tried both the Valencian (made with rabbit confit!) and the seafood and would recommend either. Be prepared to log roll out of the restaurant when you’re finished because you will have gained 100 pounds.

Perfect for: a festive date night, dinner with your parents, drinks with your girlfriends-just be prepared for an expensive bill.

Stowaway: I’ve only been to Stowaway once, right before the shelter in place order started, but I’ve been dreaming about it ever since. First of all, it is tucked into the cutest former warehouse-turned-hipster-coffee shop/brunch spot, complete with exposed pipes and red brick walls. I AM HERE FOR IT.

We went on a Sunday morning with some friends who warned us to expect a bit of a wait. Fortunately, the Denver Central Market is just a few blocks away so we were able to enjoy some cocktails and/or coffee while we waited.

When we finally got in, I ordered the Colorful Colorado (an egg dish) because of the 8 million reviews I’d read ahead of time that told me I must order this dish or live a life of unending misery and regret (ok, that might be a slight exaggeration but it was something along those lines). I also split the fruit toast with Joshua because I have to order something sweet and something savory when I go to brunch (I know I have a problem, just leave me alone). Both were so freaking good. I can’t wait to go back soon and try everything on their menu (or more likely, order the same two dishes over and over again).

Perfect for: brunch with your favorite hipster friend.

Linger: This is the one restaurant on my list that I love more for the location/ambience than for the food, though the food is certainly tasty. Linger is located in my favorite neighborhood in Denver (LoHi or Lower Highlands) and the building it’s in USED TO BE A MORTUARY. Like, WHERE DEAD PEOPLE WOULD BE SENT AFTER THEY DIED. I personally find this so cool, and if this freaks you out, you would never know except that I just told you (sorry). It’s very airy inside with cozy mood lighting and exposed brick walls. This is another place that does small plates and they’re all globally-inspired street food dishes-the menu is literally divided by continent (i.e. Asia, Africa). For drinks, order the turmeric mule. For eating, you really can’t go wrong, but some dishes I’ve enjoyed include: the bao buns, the impossible burger persian sliders, the tuna tostadas, and the potato masala dosa. Skip dessert because right around the corner you’ll find Little Man Ice Cream-one of my favorite ice cream spots in the city.

Perfect for: a first date/date night, a girls’ night, or a summer brunch on their rooftop bar.

Snooze: Full disclosure-Snooze is a chain and is not just located in Denver; they have locations across Colorado and in a few other states including Texas and California. That being said, I just have to include it on my list because I believe it is completely worth the hype.

Because there is always a long wait (I’m talking 2 hours sometimes), we always go on a Monday morning when there’s a federal holiday that other people don’t get off, such as Columbus Day. Don’t kid yourself-there will still be a wait, but it will hopefully be closer to one hour. Plus, they give out free coffee while you wait!

I don’t even like pancakes, but I always order the pancakes here. ORDER THE DAMN PANCAKES PEOPLE. You can even get a pancake flight where you can sample three different types of pancakes (I highly recommend the blueberry danish pancakes and the sweet potato pancakes). If I’m in a savory mood, I’ll order the breakfast tacos with a side of one pancake.

Perfect for: brunch with your friend, brunch with family or anyone with kids, brunch with your arch nemesis, brunch with anyone.

Hopefully this list made you excited to go back to restaurants again in the future, instead of depressed! And please send me your best restaurant recommendations! These conversations are what I live for.

[jangar16]

2019!

What a year 2019 was ...lets talk about the beginning:

Jan: Hopeful, excited, ready

*Rang in the new year with close friends, pictures were better than it was.*Jeep ride with my dude*Family shows began at Spreckles *MOM surprise* Alcatraz for Tiins birthday*Epic date night at home with homemade pizza, whisky and cake kabobs*New furniture from my dad*Studio fit closed*Finished Barajas Home

Feb: Perky, peppy and feeling full

*Watched superbowl with toni/tim/cam/aaron*Visited the bestie in Nashville*Valentines at home with homemade noodles*Marie Kondo’d my closet and shoes

March: Social, warm and happy

*Ashley moved in*ash birthday party*Bookclub *babysit for Sophia *Happy birthday to Roger in SF* Tahoe with fam & barajas *Fetzer interviews *Duet with Robyn*Uncommon James repair *Celebrated 28 in Rosa!

April: Peppy, enlightened and loved 

*Spoiled by my love * Choose Theo *UDC studio show *Stay at Graton *April 16, Theo comes home!*Easter with Taylor’s *Easter with Scroggin’s *THEO *Beerfest with Barajas & Scroggin’s *Bre Baby Shower *

May: Cheerful, Supportive and chill

*Pool day with Katie *Sibling photos for Tiin *House warming for Gabb & Rob * Koshi and Theo meet *lighten hair *Celebrate Mrs to be Cody Wright *Katies birthday at Brewery in Oakland *Shaylee & Matthew wedding *

June: Playful, happy and excited for summer

*1st pool party *Robyn teaches at SOS *Drinks with teachers on last day *attend graduation *Jade room with Mrs to be and her bestie *Kaylee graduate *Zeth visit home *Pool parties and plenty of them *Taste of downtown *Studio dance show at Spreckles *Blue lakes with hoffars & B/Gigi *

July: Tired, puppy’d out, and relieved 

*Maddi river birthday *More celebration at Chateau Diana *Kayak romance begins *Planted a garden *vet visit for puppy weed man* Fam dinner at our house *Hair lightened again *Amias Birthday..beginning of the end *Jenae visit *See Chani in SF with Ben *June and Theo adventures began * Park evenings with theo *Bonfire and smores*HIKE TO THE U *Beach day with T & Robbie *Dre and Justin Wedding * Green Pool party * Theo Bee Sting * First day at Jax 

Aug: High on summer, top of the world and easy

*Ukiah Fair * See dad and Roman * JAX *Anniversary dinner at crush * Anniversary trip to Outside lands * Bring home Gladiator * Chelcy & Steven surprise wedding! * Last Sundays * Walks with Steph E *UDC Dinner at La Rosa *Hang with the Feeneys *Theo plays with mom * WOD with Rob * Buy Taylors Albums * 

Sept: Going through motions, excited, and sad

*Roadtrip to Colorado * See fam * Wedding *Hike and socialize *Trip to Moab *Go Jeepin’ *Visit katie and her broken back *Attend Hoffars Wedding * Begin meal prep with Prep’d *Dog dates * Walks at dam * Jax photoshoots *Recognize back injury 

Oct: Motivated, hopeful and hurting 

*Lots of try on’s with Jax * leaves dance *Weekend with katie just us two * Visit Gabby too * Meet our dog friends at vinewood * Kami coffee and craft dates * Urban queen girls night with Nae * Clean out Aunt Rayleens house * See Jonas Brothers with Kayla * garage sale with Dad *dinner night at Chelcy’s *Kaylas Pregnant!!! *Girls weekend in Mendo *Jessie baby shower * Power outage for 5 days *Halloween with Kya, June and Bobby

Nov: working through stuff, staying busy, keep moving

*Pup dates * Best friend comes to visit * Make some jewelry * go for jeep ride without doors or top * girls shopping trip in rosa for Baby stuff *Friday night dinner with Steph and Andy! *Julie memorial * Girls sip n shop at LRW with Rob *Raiders game with Fam * Robbies birthday (walk at park, chill, get office, dinner at crush and games at home ) *Go to movies with fam see frozen2 *SIp n Shop at Jax *Visit Kya at school for make up *Games and drinks for friendsgiving *Dad make waffles for everyone * Thanksgiving at Scroggins *Black friday shop with KYa *Games and walks with Jake and Athena * @nd thanksgiving with Taylor’s * Walks at the lake with Theo

Dec: Fed up, tired, and bummed 

*hair cut by Kayla * Random rose on vehicle * girls shopping day with robyn and cam * light parade * Theo gets fixed * Set up furniture in office * Montgomery woods with Zeth and Ali * Zeth and Ali stay for a week * Super sick :( *Gender reveal, ITS A GIRL! *Go to OHIO *Facials *Bonding time *cousin party *cook christmas eve *christmas *bombshell *Escape room, parade of lights, bowling, Shooting range, hockey * altar’d state *girls shopping day *meg and Ashley *Vegan *Home *kayla and colby got a new car *Celebrate with Feeney’s 

Welcome 2020!!!!

[jaynsandy]

Sandy and I went for a short hike in Palm Canyon today. We drove south on Arizona 95 for about 20 miles. AZ-95 is like I-95 in that if you're doing the speed limit you get passed like you're standing still. We turned onto a dirt road and drove for another seven miles to reach the trail head parking lot. Campers were randomly scattered in the desert on both sides of the road. The people who camp out here are called "boondockers". They camp without any services, relying on solar power and generators as well as periodic trips into town to get water and dump tanks.

The scenery was spectacular. You can see forever in the clear air and the abrupt transition from flat desert floor to mountains is fascinating.

Unfortunately when a frame is put on this landscape the majestic scope is lost.

We made our way up the canyon, taking pictures and avoiding Bighorn Sheep droppings. Though we saw a lot of recent droppings we didn't see any sheep. We hope to on another hike.

It's pretty wild seeing trees we normally associate with wet semi tropical locations in the desert but there really are palm trees in the desert.

As we made our way back down the canyon we met a couple on their way up. We stopped to chat for a while and found out that they're from Picacho CA where they're camp hosts for a CA State Park on the Colorado River. It sounded like it would be a nice place to visit. We talked with them about inconsequential things for about 15 minutes, not feeling any need to hurry or say anything specific.

As we drove toward AZ-95 we stopped at the spiral labyrinth. It's a perfect spiral at the side of the road. The center has what appeared to be a fire ring but, upon looking closer, turned out to be filled with random things people left behind. A guitar pick, an empty beer bottle, some shells, hairbands looped together, an old wine stopper, a feather tied to a rock, a piece of paper with "be careful, your sin may catch up with you", a bracelet that looked to be handmade, a small glass turtle, some painted rocks and a lighter are the only things we can remember.

Native Americans, at least in the West, attached some real importance to the spiral as a symbol. It is said to represent the evolution of the universe as well as the never ending cycle of life and death. The meaning of the spiral depends on what direction one is traveling. Clockwise travel is associated with power, independence, life in ascendancy and water. Counterclockwise travel is associated with life descending, returning and homecoming. I've been wondering which direction people were traveling when they left their tokens behind. Do they represent something they're going toward or something they're moving away from?

We turned onto AZ-95 and life sped back up. We got passed by a few cars on our way back into Quartzsite. We're not sure why everyone on the paved road seemed to be in such a hurry. Are they in a hurry to get away or are they hurrying to something? How can you not slow down and enjoy the view? There is so much to see along the way.

[littlefarmjoe-blog]

Waves                             Copyright 2018, Joe Avery

                                                The author grants permission for this document to be shared only in it’s entirety.

                                                          The author does not consent to allowing any portion to be taken out of context of the whole document.                      

    Excuse me for being naive, I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. Then I learned that by speaking about certain things, I became a target. It took a long time to understand what was happening to me. For more than ten years I have been repeatedly attacked, forced to live like a fugitive on the run, though I have done nothing wrong. These events have been written in chronological order, in the way it all unfolded for me. As time went by, the amount of evidence grew. This is not a story I want to be telling. I know it is likely to stir much criticism, ridicule, and slander against me. None of that matters. Many other people are enduring a struggle that is similar to mine. This is a story that needs to be told.

    For the first twelve years of living on the Missouri farm, there was a calm stillness that I never really thought about until it was overtaken by a strange vibration. I had lived here since 1995, and one night in October of 2007, everything changed. I was immersed in sleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a weird, vibrating energy. It hit me with intensity. Whatever it was made me sit up in bed, directly out of a deep sleep. It was a low, humming vibration, and I could feel it going through me. It seemed like it was going through everything.

  Instantly I sat up, saying, “What the fuck is that? With my mind racing for a logical explanation, the first thing I imagined was that some heavy machinery was rolling down the road. I thought maybe it was the road grader or a big bulldozer. I looked at the clock, and it showed about two-thirty in the morning. Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Then I made my way through the bus. I noticed that the tone of the vibration was not changing in the way you would expect it to, if it was coming from something moving down the road. It stayed at the same tonal vibration as I walked toward the back door of the bus. When I stepped outside and onto the porch, I almost lost my perception of the vibration. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the frogs were making it difficult to “hear” the vibe. Yet as I stood there and focused my mind, I could feel it going through me.

  This weird vibration continued into the next day and for many days that followed. It was disturbing. At random times of the day, I paused and paid attention to decipher if it was still going. Most of the time, it was. There were moments when I didn't perceive it, but it kept coming back. I told other people about it, though no one seemed interested. One day when several people were sitting in the bus, I focused my mind to determine if the vibration was happening, and it was. I asked my visitors, “Do you guys hear that low, humming sort of sound?” They all paused and listened, then they said they didn't hear anything. I explained, “It's not really a sound, it's more of a vibration... a very low vibration.” Still, they didn't notice it. I was baffled and concerned about whatever this was, and it was beginning to really bother me as the days went by.

  Before all of this began, I had been planning to take a trip through Europe for several months. A roofing job in Wichita that summer had earned me enough money to make it happen. So I was at the farm, preparing for my trip when these weird vibrations started happening. As the days went by, I became more concerned about the bad vibes, and I grew more anxious to leave. When I finally left near the end of October, I felt relieved to be away from it all.

  After a few days of Halloween festivities in Lawrence, Kansas, I prepared for a trip eastward. I took a train from Lawrence to Chicago, and another train to Boston. Then I rode a bus to New York City. From there, I flew across the Atlantic Ocean. I spent five months traveling through Sweden, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. In April of 2008, I returned to North America, and after some time in New York City, I rode a train to Chicago and another train to Lawrence.

  When I returned to the farm, I did not notice the weird vibration for a while. Eventually though, it became apparent again. Sometimes it would abruptly appear and continue for many hours. Other times, it seemed to be coming in waves, fluctuating between strong and mild vibrations. When people came to the farm, I would ask if they felt the vibes, though they always said they didn't notice anything.

  Then one day I called Frank on the phone. When I told him about the weird vibrations, he asked, “Is it like a low-frequency kind of thing?”

  “Yes! A really low, humming sort of vibration.”

  “I've been getting it for a couple of years.”

  “Really? What is it? What do you think it is?”

  “They're fuckin' with us, Joe.”

  I knew that Frank was speaking of the government, or at least some rogue elements within the government. In my mind, I had already considered that possibility, though I did not want to believe I was dealing with such a thing. I didn't know what it was. I only knew that I definitely felt it. It was really strong at times, vibrating through all of my body, through my skull, my eyeballs, and my organs. It seemed to be going through through all of my cells. Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

  For years I endured this weird vibration, and it always bothered me. Sometimes it was extremely “loud,” feeling like it was penetrating through every fiber in my body. Other times it was more subtle, yet it was almost always happening. Pictures entered my mind: images of government creeps somewhere with their hands on a dial, turning the intensity up and down while pointing electronic weapons at different targets around the world.

  Was I a target? Had I become a target? I began to speculate.

  Early in 2006, I rode with a group of about twenty people as we traveled to the city of Washington, to protest against the war in Iraq. It was cold, winter time. We held our signs outside of the Pentagon as hundreds of civilian and military personnel went into and out of the building. The cops pushed us around, yelling at us to get back off of the sidewalk. They took pictures of us. We also marched around outside of the capitol building with our signs. Some people in our group were arrested.

  Many times during the years of 2006 and 2007, I walked around with a big sign in my hands, which read: “9-11, The government did it.” I carried a sign like that during the Rainbow Gathering in Colorado, in July of 2006. I was handing out websites and information to people. Some law enforcement officers took pictures of me holding my sign. Two months later when September eleventh came around, I paraded with my sign through downtown Lawrence. Irritated that so many people still believed in the “official” version of “Nine-Eleven,” I felt it was my duty to tell the truth. I ended up on sixth street near the river. It was rush-hour traffic with many cars going by. Some people gave me thumbs up, other people cussed at me. One woman drove by, yelling, “You should be arrested for treason!” I laughed and waved as I said, “For exercising my freedom of speech.” A year later, on the eleventh of September, I walked through downtown Wichita with my sign. A strange woman stepped around the corner of a building, lifted a camera and took a picture of me. Then she quickly disappeared.        

In addition to carrying my sign, I was also passing around DVDs containing documentary films about the attacks of Nine-Eleven.

  So I had put myself out there in the streets and on the trails while people had taken pictures of me. And there was Myspace. A friend showed me this website where I could upload my own music, putting it out there for the general public to hear. I thought that was great. Over time, however, I went far beyond sharing my songs. I connected with “9/11 truth” groups through Myspace, posting many articles and documentary films about the false-flag attacks of September Eleventh, 2001. I began to see the internet as a valuable means of sharing information and getting the truth out to people. These things were all happening in 2006 and 2007, in the year or so that led up to my first experiences with the bad vibrations at the farm.

  After one of my trips to the East Coast, I rode a Greyhound bus from New York City to Wichita. We made several stops in New Jersey, and at one of those stops, a peculiar woman boarded the bus. She sat in a seat across the aisle from me, on the right-hand side of the bus, and about four or five seats forward. She turned to look at me for a few seconds, then she turned back toward the front. It seemed weird and out of place. The bus driver announced that there would be a fifteen-minute smoke break at the next stop. When the bus stopped, most of the passengers unloaded themselves out onto the sidewalk, some smoking cigarettes and some going inside the convenience store. I stepped out of the bus, walked past the bench and the smokers, and I went into the store. Wandering down a few aisles, I saw nothing I wanted. So I went out the door, turned right on the sidewalk, and walked past the bench. The woman who had looked at me so intently in the bus, she was now sitting on the bench. The moment I walked by, she held up a camera and took a picture of me. I was fully aware of that as I was stepping up into the bus. It appeared to be a regular digital camera, not a cell phone. Cell phone cameras were not as prevalent back then. Returning to my seat, I felt annoyed that another stranger had just taken my picture. I decided I was going to say something to her when she got back in the bus. But she never did. While all the other passengers had returned to their seats, that strange woman did not.

  Other incidents like this have occurred, though I don't recall some of the details. I do remember a moment when I was in a crowded bus station somewhere out west, high on cannabis, on a layover between bus trips. Suddenly a man walked over to me, held a camera directly in front of my face, took a picture of me, then he quickly turned around and vanished into the crowd. Again, it was a traditional camera, not a cell phone. I remember saying, “What the hell was that all about?” After many encounters like this, it seemed apparent that there was a network of government creeps keeping a watchful eye on outspoken citizens.  

  So, am I a target? Is there some kind of electrical device, a secret weapon that has been getting pointed at me? That's what it has felt like, though I considered other possibilities. Did these weird vibrations have anything to do with the wind farms that are south of the Farm? All of those giant wind generators, anchored deep into the ground, could they be the cause of all the disturbance I was feeling? Were these vibrations coming from those microwave cell phone towers that are east of here? I did not know.

  Many times when the vibes were extremely intense, I felt like I was definitely getting zapped by something. It was difficult to concentrate on working when everything was vibrating. My head and chest, especially, were just humming with these vibrations. Walking around on the farm, I asked, “How can other people not feel this?”

  I felt helpless to do anything about it. Where does a person go with such a complaint? There is no number to call, no complaint form to fill out, and no legal course of action to deal with a disturbing mystery such as this. Most people would never believe or understand any of it. So I lived with it for many years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, I slept through the constant droning, feeling like there was nothing I could do, and that it was beyond my control.

  In 2011, Jen was coming to visit me on the farm. I had told her about the weird vibrations. Then one night as we lay in bed, she suddenly said, “Hey… I think I feel that vibration you were talking about.” I asked, “Really? You feel that?” She answered, “Yeah... that's weird.” As we talked about it, I felt glad that she noticed it. Finally, someone else had acknowledged this strange vibration in my living space.

  It was depressing, having to endure whatever this was, especially after investing twenty years of my life into this homestead. I had grown fruit trees, blueberry bushes, and grapevines. I built elaborate structures to make everything around here run smoothly, yet many times I felt that I might have to abandon all of it, just to get away from the bad vibes.

  One of the wind farms is about sixteen miles south, sprawling around the town of King City and extending for miles in different directions. Some wind generators are close enough to see through my binoculars. Another wind farm is approximately ten miles to the southwest. Many of those enormous wind generators are out there turning their huge blades, surely causing vibrations in the ground. They are so tall that they must be anchored very deep under the surface. All of them have three spinning blades, and each blade was an entire load on a semi-trailer truck. They are massive. Many times I considered the possibility that they might be the source of the vibrations I had been feeling. I researched information about the wind farm around King City, learning that it first began its operations in the autumn of 2007. Interesting, I thought, because that was when I first started feeling the vibrations. I hoped that was the cause. It was less disturbing than the idea of getting zapped by an electronic weapon. For the next couple of years, I wanted to believe that the weird vibrations were a result of the local wind farms.

  But the theory of the wind farms being the cause was not making any sense. There were days when no wind was blowing, and I could look through my binoculars to see that the wind generator blades were not turning, yet the vibrations would be going strong. Other times, it was windy with the generator blades turning, though the vibrations were not occurring.

  On every occasion when I returned to the farm after being gone for weeks at a time, the vibrations were not happening. For several days after my return, I'd notice that calm stillness that was the norm during my first twelve years of living on the farm. I missed that calm, and I hoped it would stay. After a few days of being home, however, the vibrations would return. This has happened over and over again. I began to notice that the vibrations always seemed to appear within a day after I logged in to my email account or Facebook. Was this just a coincidence? Or was I alerting someone that I was home again, by logging in on a computer? I paid more attention to this, and I began to restrain myself from logging in too soon after returning home. Yet I'd still get on Herb's computer and look at some of the websites I usually visit. Then the vibes would start up again.

  I often talked to Herb about it, and he would suggest that maybe I was hearing the “humming” of the power lines that run along the road where I live. I told him, “I have heard the electrical humming sound you're talking about, and that is not the source of the vibrations. Those power lines were already there during the first twelve years that I lived here, and I never felt the weird vibrations until October of 2007.” As the years kept rolling by, I continued to have bad experiences with all of this, and I occasionally mentioned it to Herb. Over and over again, he would talk about the power lines, and I became more frustrated and annoyed by his continuing response:

  “Those power lines make a humming sound, sometimes.”

  “What I've been experiencing is a vibration, not a sound.”

  “Sound is vibration.”

  “I understand that, Herb. But not all vibration is sound, and these vibrations I'm talking about, I don't hear them with my ears, I feel them in my body.”

  Although I had explained to him on many occasions that what I am feeling is like a beam of energy going through me, vibrating every cell in my body, Herb never seemed to listen.

  There were few people that I ever mentioned it to because most people would not understand what I was talking about. Occasionally someone in Lawrence or Wichita would ask, “How are things at the farm?” Sometimes I mentioned the bad vibes, then I'd find myself going into a long explanation, detailing my experiences with it. Most people have no frame of reference to understand what I was describing to them, and most people appeared to be uninterested. So mostly, I kept it to myself.

  Many nights I could not sleep because the vibrations were too intense. I would drive down the gravel road to Herb's house, attempting to sleep on the extra bed. “Sorry to wake you, Herb. I'm getting zapped way too hard over there.” Yet even as I lay on the guest bed at Herb's house, I could feel the vibrations going through me, almost as strong as they were on the farm. At the farm, the disturbance seemed to be coming from the southeast. Whatever was going through me, it continuously felt like it was coming from the same direction. When I was at Herb's house, it still seemed to be coming from the southeast, although slightly more from the east. Herb lives about a mile and a half to the west of the farm. I began to wonder if the vibrations were coming from the town of Albany.

  Increasingly I became annoyed and enraged about the ongoing disturbance. Trying to work, clean, cook, or do anything was a struggle with the constant humming going through me. I was becoming more angry and irritable, saying, “God damn these fuckin' vibes! What the fuck? How can other people not feel this? This is fuckin' ridiculous! I can't stand this shit!”

  The only time I got some peace was when I left the farm and drove far away from it all. So I left many times, making my escape to Lawrence or Wichita. Sometimes I went to visit Melissa, up near Des Moines. I often told her about my struggles with the bad vibes. She was one of the few people who actually listened and really talked with me about it.

  In April of 2015 I was visiting Luke, down in Lawrence. He had a computer on in the kitchen as he was watching and listening to a broadcast of Democracy Now. It was Tuesday, the 21st of April. They reported on a story about a man named Pedro Albizu Campos, in Puerto Rico. During the 1950's, he was organizing protests against American sugar companies that were exploiting Puerto Rico's sugar cane fields and the people who worked in them. Campos was arrested and spent twenty-six years in prison. He wore wet towels around himself, claiming that he was trying to protect himself from radiation, because the United States Government was pointing an “atomic” weapon at him. He complained of severe headaches and burns all over his skin. Photographs revealed his wounds. Journalists who reported on this case appeared to be laughing at his claims about the U.S. Government. He was being presented as a crazy person who was merely delusional. After his release from prison, other inmates who occupied the same prison cell complained of severe headaches and of feeling like their skin was being burned. Campos continued to wear wet towels after his release from prison, claiming he was still being targeted at his home. After many decades passed, research into declassified documents revealed that the United States Government did, indeed, have a secret weapon that was being aimed at this man. They intended to discredit him by making him appear to be delusional and insane. This was in the 1950s. It is now admitted by the FBI that these things occurred. This was happening more than sixty years ago! It is no far stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that some kinds of secret electronic weapons are still in use, and with a far greater degree of technology involved.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had spent many years on social media, posting documentary films and articles that expose corruption in the government. First, it was on Myspace, and eventually I was posting things on Facebook. I began to receive the occasional “Log-in alert,” informing me that someone near Richardson, Texas had logged into my Facebook account. So I changed my password. But after a while, I'd receive another alert that someone had logged into my account, again from Richardson, Texas. It happened nearly a dozen times. I also received alerts that my account was logged into from Jefferson City, Missouri, on two occasions. I became annoyed by this, and I began to deactivate my account for weeks or months at a time. Many times I returned to the farm after being gone for a week or more, and I always noticed that the vibrations were not happening. For several days I'd be grateful for the calm serenity. Yet again, when I logged into my email or Facebook account on a computer at Herb's house, the vibrations would start up again. It always happened within a day of logging onto a computer. This fueled my suspicion that I was being targeted and assaulted.

  Frequent headaches tormented me, and I felt that the vibrations were the cause. Also, my guts were churning all the time. Getting the runny shits, I was having to go to the outhouse several times a day. I often said to myself, “They are zapping the shit out of me.” Continuing to work on the farm, I tried to ignore the vibrations. What else could I do? I could leave the farm, as I had done many times before, running and hiding from whatever the disturbance was.    

  Occasionally I would talk about my ongoing problem at the farm, though I only talked about it with people I trusted. Melissa had emailed me some information about wind-farm vibrations. I read of people's complaints, and some of their descriptions of the vibrations were similar to what I had been experiencing. One person described it as “a loud noise that you feel inside your body.” Others complained of headaches and of having trouble sleeping at night. But all the people I read about were those who lived within a mile of wind generators. I was at least ten miles away from the nearest wind farm, though some of the wind towers seem to be closer than that. Could I really be feeling wind generator vibrations from several miles away? Melissa told me that only a small percentage of the population can feel low-frequency vibrations. Again, I tried to believe that the wind farms were the cause of my misery.  

  However, there were many times when I conducted a little experiment while I was getting zapped. I would be standing in any random location on the farm, feeling the vibration going through me. Then I'd quickly run to another random spot, twenty or thirty yards away, and stop. For about two seconds I felt the calm, then the vibes would be going through me again. It was like something was following me, and it took a couple of seconds for it to catch up with me. I did this experiment many times, and I always got the same results.

  In late August of 2015, I escaped to Lawrence to spend my birthday with some friends, and to get away from the bad vibes. One afternoon I went to the library and logged onto my email account. In an email to a friend, I wrote that I would be at the Replay Lounge on Sunday evening, to hear Truckstop Honeymoon play their music on the patio. It would be on the 30th of August. I also re-activated my Facebook account so I could get in touch with a few people. I wrote in a “private” message to someone on Facebook, that I would be at the Replay on Sunday evening. When Sunday arrived, I made my way to the Replay and went in. It was still early, so I decided to go visit Luke, then come back. When I returned, a bigger crowd had gathered as the band was getting ready to play. I went to the front of the crowd. Then I noticed a woman holding a camera with a huge lens attached to it. She was standing near the south side of the stage. Every time she held up the camera, she pointed it directly at my face. I thought that was strange. She was only about ten or fifteen feet away from me, with this gigantic lens. Continuously I watched her, and she never aimed that camera at anyone in the band, nor anyone else in the crowd. Not even once. Every time she held up the camera, she was pointing it directly at my face. I pondered over the many times I had been followed and photographed by creepy people. I also thought about the fact that I had told people, through email and Facebook, that I would be at the Replay Lounge that evening. Then there was this strange woman with the gigantic lens. She gave me the same weird feeling I have always felt whenever I noticed some creeps following or photographing me. She wore a T-shirt which said, “REBEL” in big letters across the front. It looked to me like it was meant to be a part of her fake outfit, in her fed-like attempt to fit in with the Replay crowd. She took multiple pictures of my face, then she left. I wanted to confront her but then I decided to just let it go.

  I returned to the farm. For several weeks I wondered why on earth anyone would need a telephoto lens to take pictures of me from a mere twelve-to-fifteen feet away. Then one day, it all became clear to me. Someone mentioned retina scans and the idea of the government collecting peoples' retina images. Retina patterns are like fingerprints, unique to each individual. I said, “Fuck! That makes a lot of sense. Now they probably have my retina images in some kind of weird data base.”

  It angers me when I think of all of the evil things our government is doing. Yet I often find a certain comfort in knowing that someday we will all be gone. Everyone must die, including all of those government pawns who are doing evil deeds. I wonder how they live with themselves. I wonder how they sleep at night. They seem to have no conscience.

  One evening the vibes were too intense and I had to get away. It was Saturday night, the 26th of September, in 2015. I began to load some things into the van, like my sleeping bag, pillow, drinking water, some bread, and a toothbrush. I drove west and then turned north on another gravel road. I stopped several times along the way, shutting off the engine to decipher whether I was still feeling the vibes. Every time I stopped, the vibes were clearly apparent. When I got to the blacktop road, I turned left and drove west, then I turned right onto another gravel road. I drove up to Poff's pond, several miles from where I live. After parking the van, I was still feeling the vibration. Again, it felt like it was coming from the southeast. Exhausted, I laid down in my sleeping bag and slept through the bad vibrations.

  When daylight arrived, the vibration was still going through me as I went outside to pee in the grass. It was Sunday morning. I got back in the van and drove north on the gravel road to Alan's house, and I parked in his driveway. When I turned off the engine, the vibes were still obvious. I wanted to ask Alan or Trish if they could feel the vibrations that were so apparent to me. As I walked around in the front yard, no one in the house appeared to be awake yet, and I didn't want to bother them. So I got in the van and drove back down the gravel road toward the highway. A car showed up behind me, and the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get around me. As we approached the highway, I pulled over to let that car pass me. Then I shut off the van to determine if the vibes were still happening. They were not. It was the first time in a while that I felt the calm stillness. Half-joking, I said, “Maybe the vibes followed that other car.” I felt relieved to have a few hours of peace before the bad vibes returned in the evening.

  The next day was Monday, the 28th of September. I was working on the second floor of the water-house structure, and the vibes were going strong. Suddenly, the vibrations abruptly stopped. It went from very strong vibrations to completely calm. In that precise moment, hundreds of birds launched themselves up from the nearby trees, just to the east. It was as though they were reacting to the sudden change. The timing was exact, as the vibrations quit and the hundreds of birds went up and out, over the Little Farm pond. They circled around, then settled back into the same trees they had been perched in. I climbed down the ladder and went inside the bus to write about the occurrence in a notebook. This was the first of many entries I began to make as I started keeping a journal of my experiences with the vibrations. While I was writing in my notebook, Herb and Frank rolled up in the north driveway. (I had been using Frank's generator to run some power tools, but it had stopped working, so Frank came over to help me get it running again.) I stepped out onto the porch and started telling Frank what had happened with the birds.

  As we worked on the generator, Frank and I talked about the vibrations. Frank was the only person who had any idea of what I was dealing with, as he claimed to have had a similar experience for about two years. He said, “It felt like I was getting hit with a microwave beam or something.” I replied, “That's what it feels like to me, too.”

  Herb stayed out of the conversation, though he attempted to change the subject a few times. Frank and I continued to talk about the vibrations. Then Herb mentioned the sand plant, four miles to the south, as a possible cause of the vibrations. I reminded him that the sand plant was already in operation for the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, and that the vibrations were not happening during those years. Then he said, “Maybe they got some new equipment.”

  I was growing irritated with Herb's continuing denial of what I was experiencing. He frequently mentioned the power lines, and now it was the sand plant. On many occasions I had described to him, in great detail, all of the things I had been experiencing with the bad vibes. He apparently never listened. If he had been listening and really trying to understand, then he would not keep suggesting ridiculous theories about the probable cause. It became apparent that the thought of anything intentional or sinister was too much for his rational mind to handle, so he would mention the power lines, again and again. It was like he thought my experiences were merely my imagination, and that was beginning to annoy me. It is not, nor was it ever my imagination. I am a rational person who had been trying to understand what these vibrations were, and where they were coming from. I did not want to believe that I was being targeted, yet the notion of electronic weapons became a more rational explanation than any other theories put forth by anyone.

  That same night of September 28th, the vibes came on very strong. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't stand the way I was getting zapped. I wrote in my Journal: Vibe came back strong after 10pm. I am leaving to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in van at Poff's pond.

  Into the van, I loaded my sleeping bag, five gallon water jug, guitar, notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste. I drove down to the Grove and parked in front of Herb's house. The vibes were still going strong. I got back in the van and drove a few miles up to Poff's Pond. When I shut off the van, I could feel the vibes just as much. So I drove back to Herb's house, then back to the farm. More bad vibrations. I was getting extremely irritated with all of this, feeling more and more like I was being assaulted by something, but not knowing what to do.

  Loading a few more things into the van, I decided that I would go all the way up to Frank's house. He was up near Denver, Missouri, more than twenty miles away from the farm. I thought that surely I could find some peace if I drove that far away. Stopping in the town of Gentry, I turned off the van. The vibes were still zapping me. So I drove north on 169, then a gravel road to the east. When I was nearing the corporate hog farm on highway M, I stopped again, shutting off the van to see if the vibes were still happening. They were. Then I drove the rest of the way to Denver, pulled up in Frank's driveway, and parked. When I turned off the engine, I felt the vibes. I was still getting zapped. Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I felt like crying.

  Frank came outside, saying, “Hey Joe, I was just thinking about you. They're talking about microwave weapons on the radio.” It was about one-thirty in the morning, and Frank had been listening to Coast to Coast, a.m. I got out of the van and told Frank that I was getting zapped hard, and that the vibes were following me.   “I stopped in Gentry, and the vibes were still happening. Then I stopped near the hog farm. The vibes were still going.”

  “Are you feeling it here?”

  “Yes. I could feel it in your driveway as soon as I shut off the van.”

  We went into the house. A woman's voice came through the radio, talking about secret weapons in use by the military. Her name is Annie Jacobsen, and she is the author of such books as The Pentagon's Brain and Operation Paperclip. As Frank and I listened, several people called in to the program, asking about the microwave weapons, so she would then return to that subject.

  When the commercials came on the radio, Frank turned it down and we talked. I told him, “These vibes are weighing heavy on me. I don't know what to do.” Frank said that the woman on the radio had been describing these microwave weapons as the most accurate weapons in use by the Pentagon, and that they can target and track individual people. He told me how they can look through walls with their infra-red technology, and read people's “heat signature.” I asked, “Heat signature?” Frank said, “Everyone emits a unique pattern of body heat, and certain people can be identified by these patterns.”

  Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle were connecting together in my mind. If I was being targeted, tracked, and followed, then it would make sense that the vibe was still with me as I drove around to all of those different places. If there was some kind of an energy beam or microwave beam being directed specifically at me, then maybe that's why I was feeling it when no one else around me could feel it. And I thought about Jen visiting me, back in 2011. The night she said she felt the vibration, we were lying in bed with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. We were physically as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps she was feeling some of the vibe that I was getting zapped with.

  As I contemplated these realizations, Frank wondered if he could feel the vibes while standing near me. But he kept saying, “I'm not getting anything.” He spoke of the two years when he felt like he was getting assaulted by something. “I thought it was my neighbor for a while,” Frank said. “I thought he had a microwave dish pointed at me or something.” Frank mentioned that when he was in the navy, he knew of some guys on the ship who would point a microwave communications dish at an unsuspecting sailor and start zapping him. Frank said they did this for fun, pointing the dish at someone they didn't like, then they'd laugh as they watched the guy's reaction. So Frank thought his neighbor had been doing something similar to him. He said that over time, however, he began to suspect that this was some kind of secret weapon being used by the government.

  I told Frank that everything in my life was in question.

  “All these years I have invested my time, energy, and money into my homestead at the Little Farm. I've planted fruit trees and built so many things, and I keep feeling like I'm going to have to abandon it all. Every day I am toiling away, trying to get a roof over the big structure I'm building. But lately I've been wondering, What's the point? What is the point in continuing with any of that stuff if I'm going to keep getting zapped all the time? I can't take this shit anymore.” Breaking down with tears in my eyes, I started crying. I continued talking through my tears, about what I would do. “Maybe I need to disappear from the farm and just roam around the country with a backpack. Maybe I'll go south every winter. I don't know what else to do. I'm not gonna stay at the farm and just keep getting zapped.”

  Frank was trying to figure out a way to ease my sorrow.

  “Joe, do you want me to make you a foil hat?”

  “A what?”

  “Aluminum deflects microwaves. That's why some people wear hats made of aluminum foil.”    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Sure,” I said, “Why not? I'll try anything.”

  So Frank went into the kitchen and promptly fashioned a foil hat for me. He put it on my head, then I pulled it on for a tighter fit. Frank asked, “Is it working? Do you feel any difference?”

  “I don't know. I'm tired, I wanna crash.”

  “You can sleep in the bedroom. I'm gonna lay on the couch.”

  As I went to lie on the bed, with the vibrations still going through me, I muttered to myself, “There is no way in the world that these weird vibes have anything to do with those wind farms. Fuckin' wind farms couldn't follow me another twenty miles away.”

  When I woke up, it was daylight. I was still feeling the vibes. After I went to pee, I picked up Frank's phone to call Herb. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Herb, it's Joe.”

  “Hey, where you at?”

  “I'm up at Frank's. The vibes were following me around last night. I was still getting it in Gentry. Also near the hog farms, and all the way up here in Denver. Those wind farms couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. Wind farms couldn't follow me to Denver. And there was a lady on the radio last night, talking about microwave weapons and other energy weapons that are used by the Pentagon. I am now convinced that I've been getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon.” Herb was saying, “Uh huh, Uh huh...” I could hear the doubt in his voice.

  I drove back to Herb's house, and immediately I felt the vibes. When I got back over to the farm, the vibes were still going. I thought of what Frank had said about aluminum deflecting microwaves, so I went into the aluminum Airstream Trailer to see if I could feel a difference. There were several windows, and I could still feel the vibes near them. Then I found a spot toward the back end of the trailer and I squatted down to the floor. The vibes appeared to diminish. I went back into the bus and wrote my findings in the journal.

  The next day was Wednesday, the 30th of September. I continued writing in my journal: Surprisingly calm today. Have not noticed vibe so far. 2 pm. Wind is from the north and cool today. Highs in the 60's. 4:42pm – Started feeling subtle waves over the past hour. Almost imperceptible.

  1:23 am, October 1st – Feeling vibes in waves. Mild, so far...

  7:56 am – Woke up to the vibes a while ago. Got the wood stove going and went to the shitter. Not noticing the vibe now, because of the sound of the wood stove burning. 10:15 am – Vibes became apparent again, and I went to see if Airstream aluminum made any difference. It most certainly seemed to diminish the vibe. When I was close to the windows, I could feel it more, but when I hid behind the walls blocking the vibes, as I perceive them to be coming from the southeast, it seemed that the aluminum wall diminished the vibe. Feeling the vibe now in the bus. Going to check Airstream again.

  When I returned, I wrote: I'm almost convinced that there is some kind of microwave beam being directed at me from the southeast. Today is my 20th anniversary of moving to the Little Farm. 12:37 pm – Barely feeling vibes now. Almost not there. 12:40 pm WTF! Just felt vibes way stronger. 12:44pm – full on, right near the wood stove. 1:05 pm – Vibes still on.

  Then I wrote: 4:25 pm – About a minute or two ago, a big military-looking aircraft flew over the farm, coming from the east and then turning toward the southwest, just as they were directly over the farm. It was a big, gray aircraft. No markings. The center portion was fat, like a cargo plane, but different. I waved at them as they flew over.

  Every day, I continued to make these kinds of journal entries. October 4th, 7:17 am – Vibe was going strong all night and continues right now. Feels like I am getting zapped, big time. I tried to go to bed last night and vibes were going and I got up and started putting aluminum foil on the walls. Vibes only seemed to increase, like someone was turning up the dial. 8:55 am – Vibe steady and strong and completely obvious. I am taking down the vertical strips I put up last night and putting them horizontally across front wall. Not sure if I will cover front windshield. Could be dark, but better than getting zapped. 12:28 pm – Constant vibration, buzzing in my skull and driving me crazy. Been putting up foil all morning. Just went out to the firewood area and can feel the vibe buzzing my head so much.

  I went over to the Grove and called Melissa on the phone. I told her that the vibes were severely stressing me out. She suggested that we both go somewhere to get away from it. I agreed. I was anxious to get away. Melissa drove down from Iowa and we slept in the bus.

  The next morning I wrote: October 5th, Monday. I wasn't feeling the vibe last night, but upon waking, I did. It has been going all morning. I asked Melissa several times if she feels it, and she says no.

  I started packing Melissa's car for our trip and was feeling frantic about wanting to get away. We had decided to go camping in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas. When we finally left, I felt a bit of relief with the vibes gradually fading away. As we drove south, I watched the odometer to see how far it was to the wind farm – about sixteen miles. Although we were passing through the middle of the wind farm, the bad vibrations were gone.

  Melissa did most of the driving, and when we got to Fayetteville, we contacted Anna and Joel. They had been staying in a house with their friends, on a beautiful piece of land that was south of town. They fed us some delicious food, and after eating, we all sat on the grass and we talked.

  I told them of my ongoing disturbances with the bad vibrations at the farm, and how I felt like I was being targeted and assaulted by some kind of electronic weapon. I gave them many of the details I have written in this chapter. Joel was sitting to my right, and after some thought, he turned to me and said, “Yeah… I think it's possible they might be fucking with you.” I appreciated Joel's response. Most people wouldn't believe any of it. Anna gave Melissa a few recommendations for places to go camping, then we all said goodbye.

  Melissa drove east as we went to camp in the Steele Creek area. After two nights, Melissa and I returned to that same house, south of Fayetteville. Though all of the residents were gone for the night, Anna had told Melissa that we were welcome to stay there. We slept on the porch, and in the morning we drove to Eureka Springs.

   Anna and Joel were playing music at the Stone House Winery. I sat on the patio with Melissa, drinking beer and laughing at all of the funny things Joel and Anna were saying between songs. They were hilarious, and the music was great. We slept at the home of Anna's god parents, and in the morning we began the long drive back to Northern Missouri. I was feeling much better. We returned to the farm on the evening of Sunday, October 11th. Everything felt calm. No vibrations were apparent, and I didn't want to think about it. We drank a few beers and we smoked some ganja. We talked and laughed while I cooked up some good food. I slept well and felt content.

  The next morning, Melissa and I had a stupid argument over nothing. Feeling angry and annoyed, I wanted her to leave, so she did. As I was shaking off my anger about Melissa, I wondered if the bad vibes would return. Just as they had for the past eight years, the bad vibes returned within a few days after I came home to the farm.

  On Sunday, October 18th, I was working on the water house. The vibe had been going all morning, and it was feeling more intense than usual. I tried to ignore it but it was just too much. As I held a long two-by-four, preparing to carry it up the ladder, I was feeling way too much of the weird energy beam going through me. Stopping in my tracks, I threw the board to the ground and said, “I can't do this anymore.” In that moment, there was a realization that I could no longer live on the farm. I had to get away from the vibe, and I began to think of the steps I would have to take before I could leave. I was about to start packing things into the van, then I remembered all of the aloe vera plants that needed to be brought over to Herb's house for the winter. While loading aloe plants into the van, I was coming to grips with the realization that my time at the farm could be at an end. I thought of all the years I had toiled and struggled to make this homestead happen, and now I might have to abandon it all. Suddenly I was crying. A deep sorrow washed over me as I gathered all of the potted aloe plants.

  With tears running down my face, I drove to the Grove. As I rolled up near Herb's house, I saw that Chaz and Al were there. Chaz was helping Herb work on one of his tractors. I pulled over on the left side of the road and got out of the van. Opening the back hatch, I asked, “Who wants an aloe vera plant?” Al walked over and said, “I'd be interested.”

  “Go ahead and pick one or a few of them.”

  “How about the two big ones?”

  “Well...  How about one of the big ones, and one or two of the smaller ones?”

  He took two plants and I closed the hatch.

  When Herb walked over to me, I began telling him that I had to get away from the farm. I was crying again as I tried to speak:

  “I've been getting zapped over there for way too many years, and I can't take it anymore. I have to leave. I can't live around here anymore. All these years, I've been working so hard to make things happen, and I just feel like I have to walk away from it all. I mean… What's the point? What is the point of trying to continue with anything over there if I'm just gonna keep getting zapped all the time?”

  Chaz and Al were only a few yards away, and I'm sure they were hearing everything I was saying. I didn't care what they heard or what they thought. I was telling Herb that I had to leave.

  Herb said, “Come here and listen to this over here,” as he coaxed me over to one of the power line poles across the road. Herb started telling me how it was making so much noise in the morning. But as we stood there, it was totally silent. Herb continued, “Boy, it was sure making a loud hum this morning.” Tears were still dripping down my face as Herb again tried to convince me that the power lines had something to do with my misery. Standing underneath the silent power line, I was still feeling the bad vibrations going through me. I didn't mention that to Herb. It was pointless. I walked back across the road, up the porch steps and into the house.

   I picked up the phone to call my sister. After dialing Anne's number, I got her answering machine, so I left a message. Then I called my other sister. Liz answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Joe, what's wrong?”

  “Well, my goodness. How did you know?”

  “You sound really sad, I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I am really sad. I'm sad that I can't live at the Little Farm anymore.”

  I broke down into tears again.

  Liz asked, “Why? Did someone tell you that you couldn't live there anymore?”

  “No, it's nothing like that. Herb likes me, and I am totally welcome to stay on the farm. It's just that…” I tried to formulate my words before I unloaded the entire story onto Liz.

  “For the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, there was a calm and a stillness that disappeared in 2007. It all started one night in October of 2007. This weird vibration came along and woke me up in the middle of the night. I could feel it going all through my body. It's like a really low, humming sort of vibration, and it just goes through the walls, and it goes through everything. It has stayed around for all of these years and it's been irritating me ever since.”

  “Did you ever find out what it was… or what it is?”

  “For a lot of years I wondered if it was related to the wind farms, but I eventually concluded that it wasn't. I also thought it might have something to do with the microwave cell phone towers to the east. I've often thought that it was some kind of electronic weapon that was being pointed at me. That's what it has always felt like. It's like a beam of weird energy being directed at me. It's almost like a mild, electric shock, but different... like there are billions of electrons vibrating through me.”

  I told her of the years I had been trying to raise awareness about corruption in the government.

  “I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The government did nine-eleven.' I spent years posting about it on Myspace and on Facebook. I protested at the Pentagon. There were often strange people who took pictures of me. Basically, I made myself into a target. Most of those things were happening in 2006 and 2007, in the years leading up to my first encounters with the bad vibrations. The government is messing with me. They have been messing with me for a long time. Whatever has been happening, it causes me frequent headaches. I can feel it messing with my intestines and giving me the runny shits.”

  I continued to cry and talk as Liz patiently listened.

  “All those years I was posting controversial information on social media and carrying signs... I don't know if I made any difference, as far as raising awareness. I don't know if I made any positive changes in the world, but I do know that I drew attention to myself, and I became a target. But there are a lot of people out there who are raising awareness and exposing government corruption. Are they all being targeted? Are they all getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon? I wonder about the Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth, and people like Richard Gage or David Ray Griffin. Are they getting zapped?”

  I went on about the evils of government, of continuous war for profit and control. I spoke of all of the false flag events that continue to happen around the world, and how it is our tax dollars paying for it all. “These people in shady positions in government, doing all of these horrible things – they're evil!” Liz agreed with me, that there is much evil hiding behind the walls of government. A loud “click” sound came over the phone. I asked, “Did you hear that? That click sound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always assumed that they read our emails and listened to phone conversations, long before Edward Snowden told us that they do those things. But with today's technology, I don't know why we would even hear any 'click' sound for someone to be listening to, or recording our conversation. And if they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything! I'm not breaking any laws or hurting anyone. I'm just trying to grow some fruit trees and build a homestead. I wish they would leave me alone!”

  As I finished saying that, I was crying again. Liz offered me her sympathy.

  “It sounds horrible, Joe, what you are going through. I'm going to pray for you, and I'll have all of my kids pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks, Liz. You know I'm not religious, but I do believe in the power of prayer. And you have so many kids, too. So that's some powerful energy.”

  I felt much better after talking with Liz. It was good to tell someone my story, and to not feel like I was being judged or ridiculed. Liz listened and she gave me some feedback without doubting my story or my experience of it all.

  When I returned to the farm, everything felt calm as I slept through the night. When I woke up, it was still calm. Several days passed with no bad vibrations happening. I continued to make an occasional journal entry, though there was nothing to report. Everything stayed calm. I was relieved. I felt that my conversation with Liz had an impact. Perhaps the prayers of Liz and her children had something to do with the relief I was feeling. Beyond that, I felt that who ever was listening to our phone conversation, they must have really heard me, especially the part when I said, “If they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything!” I thought that perhaps someone who had the authority to make a certain decision may have given an order to stop attacking me with whatever kind of electronic weapon I was being assaulted with.

  The days of calm turned into weeks of calm, and I was beginning to feel that my troubles with the bad vibrations were over. Every once in a while, I felt a slight vibration of something, though it was nothing like the ongoing assault I had become so familiar with. After the many years of paying close attention, “listening” for the vibrations, I had become much more aware of my own inner vibrations. I could feel my heartbeat and my pulse with much more clarity than I ever had in the past. There were times when I thought I was feeling a bit of the vibe, but upon further “listening,” I'd realize that I was actually feeling my own pulse and the gush of blood that flows with every beat of my heart. I quickly deciphered the difference, as there was really no comparison. The vibe that had been tormenting me for all of those years was much more pronounced, very strong, and extremely disturbing. There was no denying the existence of the vibe when it was full-on.

  Whatever vibrations I encountered during this time of calm, they were minuscule in comparison to the previous conditions. Sometimes it was merely the vibration of a truck driving by, half a mile away. If you pay attention to these things, you will notice the subtle vibrations that often occur all around you.

  Things continued to remain mostly calm around my place, but then one morning, I woke up to the vibes again. I began to feel a sense of panic, feeling that this was going to continue ruining my life. I wrote in my journal: Sunday, November 15th – THE VIBE IS BACK. I felt it hours ago while sleeping. Woke up to it. Very subtle, mild. But most definitely going.

  Down in the Grove, I phoned Liz, telling her, “For about four weeks, I didn't feel much of anything until today. When I woke up this morning, the vibe was happening again.”

  Liz told me that she had forgotten to keep praying for me. Again, she said that she and her kids would pray for me. I hung up the phone and wondered if I could feel the vibe. I wasn't feeling it in Herb's house. When I went back over to the farm, it was calm again. No vibrations. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself to focus on the calm and serenity. I didn't want to give any thought to the bad vibes. Over the next several days, I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the calm stillness.

  I thought about the creepy government people who read our emails, and I decided to send them a message, so I sent an email to myself:

 To whom it may concern:

 Dear Feds, please stop zapping me with whatever you have been zapping me with. I am not doing anything wrong, I am not breaking any laws,* and I am no longer trying to inform people about government corruption. All I want to do is grow my fruit trees and build my farm structures. Please stop with the electronic harassment and assault. It has been eight long years that I have endured the wrath of your secret electronic weapons, and I am wishing, hoping, and praying that you will end all of that and leave me alone. Don't you have bigger fish to fry? I am just a simple farmer and occasional musician. Please let me be.

Thank you for reading my emails.

    (*Actually though, I do break some laws. I smoke cannabis and occasionally ingest hallucinogenic mushrooms. I have also experimented with other controlled substances. At times I have been guilty of jaywalking or running past stop signs on my bicycle. That's it. That is the full extent of my illegal activity.)

  For the past few years, I had been losing vision in my right eye. In January of 2015, I looked closely in the mirror, with a flashlight shining into my eye. What I saw frightened me. It was cloudy and milky-looking in my pupil. I looked at pictures of cataracts on the internet, and they looked like what I had seen in my eye. At Stan and Cathy's house, I mentioned that I might have cataracts. Cathy asked, “Aren't you too young to be getting cataracts?” I replied, “I'm too young for a lot of things.”

  Soon after that, I scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor in Lawrence. After running some tests and looking into my eyes, the doctor told me what I had already suspected; I had cataracts. He told me that cataract surgery was the only solution, and he referred me to a group of eye surgeons. I asked him about the procedure. He explained that they remove the natural lens and replace it with an artificial lens. I did not like the sound of that. Not wanting to remove my natural lens, I looked for alternatives on the internet.

  During Thanksgiving, I visited with Melissa's family up near Des Moines. I told Melissa about the cataracts, saying, “I don't want to do the surgery, but eventually I won't be able to read or write. It compels me to get more serious about finishing my book.”

  Melissa was sympathetic about my cataracts. After returning home, I received an email from her, saying, “I've read that a leaking microwave oven can cause cataracts. There are detectors you can get to check for microwaves, but I would check into their sensitivity levels before buying one.” I pondered over those words. I never go anywhere near microwave ovens. I don't like them. I avoid cell phones because of the microwaves. Melissa knew about my problems with the bad vibrations, and I had mentioned the idea of microwave weapons to her. Now she was sharing this information about microwave radiation causing cataracts. As I read her email, I said, “Well, great. If it was a microwave weapon being directed at me, it may have caused me to develop cataracts at an early age. Just wonderful.”   And I had thought of getting one of those detectors. It would certainly add a bit more credibility to my story if I could have given actual numeric readings from such a device. By this time, however, the bad vibrations had mostly ended, and I felt that buying one of those detectors would almost be like inviting the bad vibes to come back.   The farm had returned to the calm and serenity that I missed. I was feeling better again. I rolled in the grass, breathing deep and feeling thankful that everything had been calm for this much time, which was only a couple of weeks at that point. And yet I could still feel the aftermath of all the weird vibrations that had been imposed upon me. I couldn't quite explain it, but I felt much different than I had before. Thinking out loud, I said, “Who knows what they've done to me?” I steered my mind away from bad thoughts like cancer and all the other horrible things that could go wrong. I understand how powerful thoughts can be, especially when it comes to good or bad health.

  Over the years, increasingly I noticed that I was often feeling irritable. The slightest little annoyances could set me off into an angry rage. I was already a bit of a moody person at times, though I felt that all those years of getting zapped had changed me. I had less patience with people, and I knew that I couldn't really talk about my dilemma with others. They would laugh and ridicule me. They would call me crazy, delusional, and paranoid. That is what most people will do. They will judge you as being crazy or delusional, without considering the possibility that what you are telling them is the truth.

  For many months I had stayed away from Facebook, and I rarely logged into my email account. When the bad vibes had mostly stopped after October the 18th, I was still reluctant to log into those accounts, concerned that the bad vibes would return. As the weeks passed, though, I began to log in again. I felt like a frightened little animal, crawling out of a hole, wondering if it was safe to go out into the light. With the exception of November 15th, everything had remained relatively calm. I was looking at my news feed on Facebook, though I refused to post anything or participate in any online discussions. Then on the evening of Thursday, December third, I shared a video about Donald Trump. It was the first time I had posted anything in months. It wasn't even controversial, it was just funny. I wondered if posting something might cause “them” to start zapping me again. The next morning, I woke up to the vibe. It was going steady and strong. I decided to leave the farm, so I packed the van for a long drive to Arkansas.

  Joel and Anna were playing music in Eureka Springs, and I drove all the way down there to see them. I helped them load their equipment into and out of the Stone House Winery, and at the end of the evening, they offered me a place to sleep. On Saturday night they were playing music in Fayetteville. Again I helped them move their equipment, before and after the show. I slept in my van that night, and on Sunday morning I drove toward Lawrence.

  By Tuesday I was back on the Farm. Everything felt calm. I avoided logging onto a computer until Thursday evening. I was planning to leave again on Friday, December 11th. The farm remained calm through the night and into the morning. When daylight arrived, I packed my things into the van and drove to Lawrence. Then I made my way through Wichita and to Hutchinson, where I continued to write about all of this.

  It is bad enough having endured the torment of getting zapped for all of those years. Adding sorrow to all of this is the awareness that my closest friends don't believe me. I have told my story to people like Luke, Ian, and Anastasia. They all get a blank look on their faces, like they are having some cognitive dissonance, wondering if I am crazy. It is sad and annoying. Melissa is one of the few people who hasn't doubted my story – Melissa, Frank, and perhaps Joel and Jen. As I have persisted with my story though, it seems that a few people are beginning to believe me.

  After all the years I endured the bad vibrations at the farm, I had examined many different thoughts and ideas about what the disturbance might be. I was looking for the most logical answer to the question: What is the cause of the bad vibrations? The notion of electronic weapons being the cause makes more sense to me than anything else which has been suggested by anyone. It makes more sense than wind farms being the cause, or the power lines, or the sand plant. None of those things could track me around and keep zapping me all the way to Denver, Missouri. But modern electronic weapons certainly could. This is logic, plain and simple. From everything I have experienced, it is my absolute belief that some kind of electronic weapon was being aimed at me for all of those years. It had the ability to track and follow me around in Northwest Missouri. On the radio, Annie Jacobsen had spoken of these weapons. When reading her book, “Phenomena,” I found very little information on the subject. She only briefly mentioned electronic weapons. Perhaps I simply haven't found the right book. Regardless, it has been admitted by the FBI that they were using similar kinds of weapons against someone, as far back as the 1950's.   So why do people have that knee-jerk reaction of ridicule and doubt when I mention any of this to them? I suppose it is because they were conditioned to think that way. Some folks have proposed the idea that perhaps I was experiencing the effects of tinnitus, a condition in which a person hears a ringing sound when no external sound is present. For each person who has suggested this to me, my response has been the same: “It's interesting how that tinnitus disappears every time I drive far enough away from the farm.” Sometimes I wish that those people could get zapped for just ten or twenty minutes. Ordinarily I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, yet if people could experience just a few moments of what I had to endure for eight long years, then maybe they would understand.

  As these weeks roll past, I am grateful for the relative calm I have been feeling. Ever since that day when I cried while talking to my sister on the phone, the bad vibrations have almost completely disappeared. I went back to working on some of my projects, thinking that maybe I can continue living on the farm. An enormous sense of relief has been happening for me. At the same time, there is an ongoing feeling of apprehension that it could all happen again.

  Is it over?

  Will the bad vibrations stay away and let me live in peace?

  Will the calm and serenity remain?

  I hope so.

  That would have been a fine way to end this chapter. I wish it was the end. Eighteen months went by without any notice of the weird vibrations. I thought it was over. But in late May of 2017, the bad vibes returned. It was mild at first, almost imperceptible, then it became stronger. After more than a year of calm, I had begun to think it would be okay to go ahead and speak my mind by posting certain things on Facebook. There were some postings about government corruption and war crimes. Not long after sharing those posts, I started feeling the bad vibes again.

  On the night of May 30th, I was lying in bed when the vibrations became more intense. I got up and began to gather my things, unsure of where to go, only knowing that I had to leave. After driving over to Herb's house, I sat in the car and opened up my computer. I was thinking of driving all the way up to Frank's place, then I thought of the upstairs room above Herb and Larry. The stairs are on the outside, so I was able to go up there without bothering anyone. As I settled in the bed to sleep, I was not feeling the vibes. So I slept.

  In the morning I went downstairs to chat with Larry and Herb. I made no mention of the recent vibrations on the farm. Then Frank showed up at the door. As he stepped inside, he said, “Hi Joe. How's it been going?”

  “Not so great. I'll tell you later.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “They're zapping me again.”

  “Oh, no. That sucks.”

  “Frank, you're the only person who understands what I'm talking about.”

  Herb went outside as Frank and I discussed the bad vibrations. Larry sat up on the bed, listening to us. Frank recalled his experience of getting zapped for two years. The vibrations stopped harassing him around the same time when they first started bothering me. Frank and I had come up with a theory that initially, the perpetrators thought Frank was me. We both have dark brown eyes, brown hair and a brown beard. We have a similar shape to our eyebrows. People often asked if we were brothers. So it seemed plausible that our identity had gotten mixed up by those who were assaulting us. I told Frank that I had no choice but to leave the farm and go somewhere.

  “First, I need to get that gutter put on the water house, to channel the rain away from the building. Then I have to get out of here. My sister has been inviting me to visit, so maybe I'll go there.” Holding up my laptop computer, I said, “I can keep working on the book, just about anywhere.”

  Back on the farm, I spent most of the day figuring out how I would put up the gutter. The bad vibrations bothered me for a while. By late afternoon, though, they had stopped. After many hours of calm, I thought I would be able to sleep in my own bed again. But as I laid down to sleep that night, the vibes came back, steady and strong. So I gathered a few things and went over to Herb's. In the upstairs, I still felt a vibration, though not as pronounced as it was at the farm. Sleeping through the vibrations, I woke up at sunrise.

  Downstairs, I drank coffee with Herb while I read my emails. Then I drove the dusty road back to the farm. As I started gathering some tools and gutter pieces, no vibrations were apparent. Again, I felt relieved to be working in the calm surroundings. It was Thursday, the first of June. Standing on the porch with the cat, I watched two hummingbirds hovering around their nectar feeder. Suddenly they both flew toward me, one of them flying just a couple of inches past the right side of my face as the other one flew by me at waist level. Laughing with amusement, I said, “That was cool! I love living here when I'm not getting zapped.”

  The disturbing vibrations returned in the afternoon. I did my best to ignore them and to focus on getting the gutter installed. By evening, the vibes had diminished. Several hours later, though, just as I was lying down to sleep, the vibes returned. It seemed like the culprits were intentionally waiting until I went to bed, then as soon as I laid down, they started zapping me. It was like they were experimenting with their sadistic torture device while observing my reactions. For the third night in a row, I got dressed and drove along the gravel road to sleep in the upstairs room of Herb's house. In the morning, I woke up and drove back to the farm.

  After the gutter was attached, I felt better about walking away from the water-house project and going somewhere to get away from the bad vibrations. A few trips away from the farm gave me some peace for a while. I visited my sister's home near Lincoln, then drove to Lawrence. At the end of June, I was swept away in a flood. Interesting as that was, it does not relate to this story.

  When the vibrations returned and increased with intensity, I found myself making journal entries again: July 8th, 2017. The vibe is becoming more pronounced today. For the last month, I haven't felt it much, and most times it is barely noticeable. But today I am feeling a humming in my head that is some of the strongest vibration I've felt since November of 2015.

Sunday, 9th of July – I woke up to the vibe this morning, and it feels more steady and strong than it did yesterday. The realization is upon me again, that I cannot stay here, and I have to begin packing my car for a trip to somewhere.

  Things were much easier when I still had the minivan. There was room to move around and space to sleep. Then the transmission was destroyed. With the little Honda I am now driving, there is no room for anything. I do not know where I will sleep.

  As I write these words, the vibrations are humming in my head and chest. I wonder what may have caused the return of this miserable condition, and the only thing that comes to mind is a recent phone conversation I had with Sherri. It was last Tuesday evening, on the Fourth of July. I had mentioned to her that I thought NPR was just as full of lies as the other mainstream media networks:

  “They've all been lying about nine-eleven for all these years, and that's the biggest lie I have heard being perpetuated in my entire life. If they're going to continue with a lie as huge as nine-eleven, what else are they lying about?”

  So again, I was running my mouth about the government's involvement in a false flag operation, and again, the bad vibes returned.

  With a few things packed into the Honda, I drove all the way up to Frank's house. When Frank came out to meet me in the yard, I said, “They're zapping me again. I can't stand to stay on the farm, so I need to crash here tonight.” We went inside and talked of the experiences we've both had with the vibrations. Everything felt calm at Frank's. There was no feeling of any weird vibes at all. I thought back to what I had been feeling just a few hours earlier at the farm, and it seemed surreal. The calm feeling remained at Frank's house as I fell asleep on the futon.

  In the morning I wanted to get back to the farm and prepare for a more extended trip. By afternoon I was rolling toward the homestead. As soon as I rolled into the north driveway of the Little Farm, the vibration was completely obvious. I made a list of things I would need and began to gather them. Then I drove down to the Grove to visit with Herb and Larry for a couple of hours. Returning to the farm, I was hoping the vibration might have diminished, and that maybe I could sleep in my own bed again. Yet when I returned, the vibration seemed to be coming on stronger, and I knew I couldn't stay there. So I gathered my things for another drive up to Frank's house, feeling frantic about trying to get away, with my head and chest vibrating the entire time. After a second night at Frank's house, I drove back to the farm, preparing for another trip southward.

  Although I've grown tired of writing this chapter, it is difficult to find a stopping point, as I am dealing with an ongoing chronicle of these disturbances. I got away to Lawrence. From there, I drove to the southwest corner of Missouri, then north and west to Wichita for two nights, then to Hutchinson. For three nights, I stayed at Ian and Anastasia's house, then drove back up to Lawrence. By Monday, July 24th, I had returned to Northwest Missouri.

  Everything was calm as I refrained from logging in on a computer. The next day, I logged into email and Facebook while I was at the Library in town. Also, I requested two books by Annie Jacobsen, through the inter-library loan. At the farm I had mild perceptions of some vibrations, but wasn't sure. It was vague. On Thursday, I logged in from Herb's house on an older computer. That night, the vibes came on strong, just as I was settling into bed. I got up, grabbed a few things and drove to Herb's. Stepping up the outside stairs, I went into the room. The vibes were still apparent up there and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to go into the downstairs part, but it was locked. Not wanting to wake Herb, I drove back to the farm. When I got back inside the bus, the vibes were still going steady. I wanted to leave but I was exhausted. It was around two o'clock in the morning when I succumbed, falling asleep with the vibes humming through my body. At daybreak I woke up to the vibes going through me like they hadn't stopped all night.

  Later that day, I drove back up to Frank's. We talked for a while, then I called Herb's house and left him a message. When Herb called back, he told me that he had experienced some strange vibrations during the previous night. That would have been Thursday night and Friday morning, the 27th and 28th of July. Herb said he woke up to a vibration and wondered why he was “hearing” something when he knew that the refrigerator wasn't running at the time, the air conditioner was not on, and the ceiling fan was off. In a way, I was glad that Herb was recognizing a vibration. I certainly don't want him getting zapped, but I've wanted him to understand that what I have been experiencing is real. I want everyone to understand that.

  Again I escaped from the farm, driving to Lawrence and visiting with friends.

  August 14th, 2017 – When I got back to the farm last night, everything felt much different than it ever has in the last twenty-one years. I did not feel good about being home. After all the years of being out here alone, the years of getting zapped, the ongoing apprehension about possibly getting zapped again, and events of the last eleven months which have left me severely angry at certain people, it is feeling more to me like this is no longer my home. It does not feel like my home anymore. The water house stands there, looking at me as if it is wondering when I will break out the tools and continue building on it. I look back to the water house and say, “My heart is not in it. I just don't care anymore.” All of that time and energy, the endless days of toiling away, it might have all been a complete waste of my time, energy, and money. My greatest and most ambitious projects in recent years have been the water house and the book. But the ongoing events of recent months continue to push me away from this place, and I keep returning to the conclusion that I need to buy a van and be prepared to live on the road. The only thing I have left is this book.

  Late August in Lawrence, I stayed at Stella's old house on Montana street during the time when she was moving to a rental property and putting her house up for sale. Many times I had noticed a weird vibration that seemed to be running through the east side of the house. This was the first time I felt any kind of strange electrical vibes in Lawrence. It should be noted that I had logged onto my computer, using Stella’s wifi connection. Perhaps this made my presence known, putting me on someone’s radar. After feeling bad vibes in the southeast bedroom, I moved my sleeping pad into the living room where no vibes were apparent.

  When I told Stella about the bad vibes in that southeast corner room, she said that her daughter did not like that room and would never go in there. Stella reacted strongly to what I was telling her, as it appeared to add some credence to whatever her daughter had been experiencing. Stella seemed to be pondering about a ghostly presence, while I was thinking of something electronic and man-made. I began to notice that the vibration was also apparent in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. It was extending lengthwise, north and south, through the entire east side of the house.

  In late August, I bought another old Dodge van. Deciding to stay in Lawrence during the fall and winter, I made arrangements to move in with two friends, though I did not want to be on the lease. By early September, I had settled into a house near the campus of The University of Kansas. One of my early mistakes was logging in on my computer through the wifi in that house. Eventually, I learned about and purchased a VPN (Virtually Private Network) service which is meant to provide some privacy for my online activity, re-routing my connection through another server somewhere. But my attempts at hiding my location had failed, as I had already logged on without the protection of a VPN. I’ve had doubts about whether or not the VPN actually hides my location from the feds, anyway.

  Several times when I went to go walking or riding my bike, I noticed someone in an idle car, stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at me as I made my way from the house. Each time, it was a different person in a different car, not parking anywhere, just sitting idle in the street, staring at me. Every time it happened, I walked or biked directly toward the person, then he or she would drive away as I got closer. It seemed really strange. Not long after those encounters, a weird vibration started happening in my temporary new home. At first, I noticed it in the bathroom when I was standing in front of the toilet to pee. Then I was feeling it in the kitchen as well.

  Luke knew all about my struggle with the bad vibes, and when he came over to see the house, he asked, “Do you ever feel those vibrations when you're in Lawrence?”

  “In the last couple of months, I have. I was getting weird vibes at Stella's old house, all along the east side but not on the west side. And now in this house, I keep getting it in the bathroom and in the kitchen.”

  After Luke left, I wondered why I had not asked him to stand in the bathroom and tell me if he felt the vibrations. My two housemates knew nothing about my years of struggle with the bad vibes on the farm. Several times I had mentioned the weird vibrations in the bathroom and kitchen. When they gave no response, I said nothing more about it.

  During September and October, I became more convinced that I was being electronically harassed at the Lawrence home. Along with the vibrations going through my skull, there was often a feeling of tightness, almost a numbness in my throat area, like the glands were being assaulted. With the vibes penetrating through my chest, my heart often started racing at a much faster pace than usual. It would be normal if I was engaged in heavy exercise at the time, but it often happens when I am fully relaxed, or even when I'm lying down to sleep. There is no reason why my heart should start racing so fast when I am not moving at all. Actually though, there is a reason: electronic assault. One day I was describing the rapid heartbeat to Luke, then he asked, “Is there anything that would be causing you anxiety, to the point where your heart would speed up?”

  “Yes. Getting zapped by electronic weapons causes me anxiety. It causes anxiety when it's happening. And when it's not happening, the thought of it returning makes me apprehensive, too.”

  Once or twice a month, I made the drive up to the Little Farm. It was good to see Herb, Larry, and the dogs in the Grove. The cats, too, especially my cat on the farm. For several days I would hang out, in and around my home. Everything was calm. It seemed apparent that whoever had been assaulting me, they had found my location in Lawrence but were no longer aiming their devices at my home on the farm. When my life returns to that level of calm and serenity, it is the greatest relief I know.

  Back in Lawrence, however, the vibes were becoming more commonplace. At first, it was the steady vibe constantly running through the bathroom, and eventually through the kitchen, as though the perpetrators were uncertain about which room I was occupying. I imagined them projecting a steady vibration, perhaps while figuring out the lay of the house. That's how I thought of it, anyway.  

  As November came along, I started feeling the disturbance in the living room at times. I would abruptly get up and move to different parts of the house, trying to decipher whether the vibes were happening in those areas. One evening, Cory asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

  “It's difficult to explain. You wouldn't understand.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I understand?”

  “Because nobody understands. It's something I've been dealing with for years. Most people don't believe me, anyway. I don't like to talk about it.”

  Cory's curiosity was growing, along with his confusion about my reluctance to speak about my situation. Then I told him, “I've written a fairly detailed chapter about it. It's the longest chapter in my book, and you can read all about it when I get the book published. Or if you want to read it on a computer sometime, maybe I can put it on a flash drive for you. But generally, I don't talk about it with people anymore.”

  “You could email it to me.”

  “No. I definitely don't want to do that. Other people could see it. The wrong people. Shit, they've probably already crept into my computer and got everything in there... any of those times I went online before I had a VPN, they could have done that. But you never know. Maybe they haven't seen that chapter. I'll put it on a flash drive sometime, and we can put it on your computer.” “Okay… well, I'd be interested to read it.”

  For about three months, I had not been feeling anything bothersome in my little room at the top of the stairs. I was able to sleep without much concern. By the end of November though, I was getting more disturbing vibes in my room. One morning, I frantically began to load the van with the things I would need to get away to somewhere, to anywhere. Before I left for another spontaneous escape, I put the majority of this chapter on a flash drive and told Cory, “I have to leave, but I want to put this on your computer before I go.” So we sat down with his laptop computer and made that happen.

  In December I began to document my frequent encounters with the house vibrations by making notes on the December page of a calendar, taped up on the inside of my room door: December 7, 8, 9 – zapped. Familiar pressure in my skull, tightness in my throat glands. Light but steady vibe going on. 10 – calm. Left for farm. Calm at farm. December 13 – returned and zapping started again. 14 – Zapped, heavily. Stopped around 10-11pm. December 15 – Left for Ozarks. December 17 – Returned to Lawrence – calm. After the word, “calm,” there is an arrow pointing through the remaining days of that week, indicating that the calmness had remained.

December 25 – vibes, 26 – vibes, 27 – calm again. At the top of the December calendar page, I began to write down the encounters occurring in January: Vibes on Jan. 5th, 6pm – Vibes.

  Then everything remained calm for twelve days until I got caught up in argument on Facebook. It was a discussion about the idea of mandatory vaccines. In the comments, I went on a rant about the toxic poisons in vaccines, and that mandating forced injections on people was another extension of fascism. Within hours of posting those comments, I was clearly feeling the bad vibrations again. I imagined there was a correlation between my speaking out, then getting assaulted.

  During the many years I was getting zapped on the farm, I often went searching online for some clues to the mystery I was experiencing. Yet for so many of those years, I never thought to do a simple search regarding electronic weapons. I was researching wind-farm vibrations, cell phone tower microwaves, “stray electricity,” and other things. When I finally searched for answers by typing “electronic weapons” in the search box, I was suddenly exposed to hundreds of links dealing with electronic assault, harassment, and torture. It was then I began to realize that there were many other people dealing with the same problems I had been going through. Some of these folks were labeled as “targeted individuals.” People's descriptions of experiences were similar to mine. For example, one thing that seems common among targeted individuals is the claim that the first episodes of electronic assault were very intense, as if to let the victim know with certainty that these attacks were coming from an outside source. Then the level of intensity is brought down to a small fraction of the original attack, though it keeps going for days, weeks, months, or years.

  This was precisely how it happened to me at the farm. That first night I was assaulted in October of 2007, it was extremely intense, then it seemed to gradually diminish in the days that followed, yet it was still going. After that first night of attacks on the farm, I did not think to write down the exact date. I only know that it was middle to late October, in 2007. Had I known what an ongoing ordeal was about to unfold for the next eight or ten years, I most certainly would have written down the date of that first experience.

  Some victims of electronic assault claim to have sensations of feeling like their skin is being burned. This is something I have not experienced. Not once, did I ever feel like my skin was burning. For me, it has been the intense vibrations going through my skull and chest. Many times, my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I felt that someone was trying to cause me to have a heart attack. When the glands in my jaw go numb, I feel like my lymphatic system is being assaulted.

  I understand that much of this chapter is speculation, as I have no way of proving any of this. I can only give my detailed and honest description of what I have experienced. It makes sense to me though, that the perpetrators have developed a method of attacking people in a way that the victims cannot prove. Additionally, it seems that the underlying goal is to discredit the victims by making them appear as delusional and insane. This is what the FBI did to Pedro Campos in the 1950s. While I still consider purchasing a microwave detector or radio frequency indicator, some of those devices cost several hundreds of dollars. With my limited budget, I am not anxious to spend that money.

  In September of 2017, I was introduced to a Missouri chapter of the Native American Church, down in the Ozarks of Southern Missouri. The location was beautiful and I liked most of the people I met. So I returned in October. (For now, I am bypassing the details of what those ceremonies were about, as they could become another entire chapter, separate from this one, and I am trying to stay on point here.) When I was on my way down there for the November ceremony, I stopped at Mama Jean's grocery store on Sunshine Street in Springfield. Using my computer with their wifi, my VPN service would not turn on without me logging in to the service's website. I had forgotten my password, though I knew I had emailed a clue about it to myself. But the only way to retrieve that password was to log in without the protection of the VPN. So I went ahead and logged in, opened up my email and got the password. Also, I replied to an email from my sister, telling her I was heading toward the Ozarks.

  Driving another twenty miles or so to my destination, I put some Rush tunes in the CD player and blasted the music for the last stretch of my trip. When I pulled onto the grassy parking area and turned off the van, I was immediately sensing weird vibrations. In an instant, I felt surprised and upset.

  “Are you kidding me?! Are they really fuckin’ with me... all the way down here in the Ozarks?!” Looking up, I noticed a power line connected to a transformer on the utility pole. I said, “Maybe that's what I'm feeling.” So I took a walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile or more to the south, yet the vibrations continued to follow me. Closing my eyes, I wondered what direction the assault was coming from. Suddenly my hands reached up to a certain location in the northern sky. I perceived the bad vibrations to be coming from that direction. In my mind, I was thinking of a satellite with electronic weapons. I went back to the van, opened the computer and attempted to write about the experience. The vibes increased, and I knew I was being assaulted. It was too obvious, as my skull and my chest were pulsating with vibrations.

  I frantically drove out of there, taking the winding mountain road all the way back to the nearest town, fourteen miles to the west. When I pulled over near the town square and turned off the engine, everything felt calm again. For several hours I walked around the little downtown area, thinking maybe I would sleep there in town, where the van was parked. By midnight though, I decided to drive all the way back to the Native American Church location. When I shut off the engine, everything felt calm. After sleeping in the van, I woke to join in the morning ceremony. For the rest of that Saturday and into the night, I could only feel the calm normality of nature all around me.

  On the 15th of December, I drove to the Ozarks again. My friend Michael rode down there with me. I slept in the van and woke to join in the morning ceremony. During the usual introductions, a woman named Audrey spoke of some papers she had written as part of a book she was working on. She was offering free copies to anyone interested, and asking for donations. She spoke of information she was trying to get out to people. Then she mentioned something about electronic weapons, and that caught my attention.

  Later in the day, people had gathered in a large circle and were “passing the feather.” It was actually not a feather that day, but a small maraca. Each person who held it would speak of their thoughts and feelings while everyone else listened. When someone handed the maraca to me, I stood up, not really knowing what I would say. Then the words just came pouring from my mouth: “Nice day today. Too bad about the chem-trails.” I pointed up to the haze in the western sky, noting that the day had started with a clear sky until we observed those planes spraying trails that do not fade, as normal vapor trails do. A few people in the circle said, “Aho.” (This, I am told, is a Native American expression which means something like, “Amen,” “Right on,” or, “I agree with you.”)

  Continuing, I said, “I hear a lot of people sharing experiences with all of these messages of positivity and hope. I don't want to bring anything negative into this circle, but I feel compelled to say some things that need to be addressed. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world… cops going around murdering people, government starting wars for profit... and it seems that in order to stop the bad things from happening, there needs to be awareness. I mean, how can we stop the bad things if people aren't even aware that those things are happening? This morning, someone mentioned something about electronic weapons.” A woman stood up, saying, “Yes, that was me.” It was Audrey. I looked at her and said, “I have been dealing with this for over ten years. You are not alone.” “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you,” seeming grateful that I was acknowledging the issue. And though I rarely ever mentioned this subject to any of my friends, there I was, telling my story to more than fifty strangers:    “It all started for me in October of 2007 and continued for many years. It's like getting hit with a beam of energy that vibrates through my head and my chest.” Audrey was still standing, nodding her head while saying, “Yes, yes...Yes.” I continued, “I live on a farm, way out in the country. For a long time, I tried to believe that I was dealing with vibrations from the wind farms that are south of my home. Those wind generators are huge, and they have to be anchored way deep into the ground, so I thought maybe that was the cause of the vibrations I was feeling. But over time, I realized that this was something deliberate. I've been writing a detailed chapter about all of this…” Looking to Audrey, I said, “I'm also writing a book.” She was still standing and facing me, while most people in the circle were sitting. I went on, saying,“The thing is, at some point I became a target. I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The Government did nine-eleven.' Actually, I don't know who did nine-eleven, but whoever it was, they had the full cooperation of the United States Government, at the highest levels.” Someone in the circle said, “Aho.” “Anyway,” I continued, “The point is that I drew too much attention to myself, and I became another one of their targets.”

  As I spoke, a younger, bearded guy walked around the outside of the circle and put a hand on my left shoulder, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.” Then, in a louder voice, he spoke to the crowd, saying, “This guy is telling the truth. I've been through some stuff, and there's a lot of things I want to say when the feather comes around to me.” I was slightly annoyed that he had interrupted me, yet I allowed him to continue, as he was giving some verbal backing to my claims about electronic weapons. When he let me resume speaking, I tried to pick up where I had left off, though I was somewhat thrown off from a few points I had wanted to make.

  “This has all been a living nightmare for me. I keep hoping and praying that they will leave me alone. They didn't bother me for a year and a half. But when I started posting things on Facebook again, stuff about government corruption and war crimes... Lo and behold, they started zapping me again. It’s like they’re trying to control my freedom of speech.” Audrey said, “Yes, yes...” The rest of the circle remained silent as they patiently listened to what I was saying. While I've forgotten much of what I said that day, I do recall that near the end of my monologue, with emphasis, I said, “This stuff is real. It's electronic assault and harassment. It's electronic torture.” Several people said, “Aho.” I passed the maraca on to the next person to my left, and the speeches returned to less intense subjects.   With the passing hours, the evening had darkened as many of us gathered around the bonfire. Suddenly a woman walked over to me and said, “It is real. I had to move my entire office. My family has seen what this has all been doing to me.” For a few seconds I had mistaken her for Audrey, the woman who mentioned electronic weapons that morning. Then I realized that this was someone else talking to me. We spoke briefly about our experiences with electronic harassment. I did not get her name before she walked away. In the next moment I made a mental note about being surrounded by approximately fifty people, and of that fifty people, three or four of us were claiming to have been assaulted by electronic weapons.

  A while later I saw Audrey on the opposite side of the fire, and I stepped over to speak with her. With her right hand, she made a gesture near the left side of her head as she said, “I'm getting it right now. They're hitting me with it.” I asked,“Really? You're getting zapped right now?” She nodded her head, saying, “Uh-huh.” As soon as she said that, I had my doubts. It didn't seem real to me, but then I caught myself. In my mind, I asked, “Why wouldn't I believe her?” Only one month before this, I had the experience of getting zapped, not far from that same location, on the Friday afternoon before anyone else had arrived. Yet I was doubting this woman. In an instant, I felt surprised by my reaction. For more than ten years I had already dealt with this ongoing disturbance, then suddenly I was having doubts about another person's claims on the issue. This increased my realization that most people are not likely to believe any of this, especially if they have not experienced it for themselves.

  I wanted to get a copy of whatever Audrey had written, then Michael said that he grabbed one for me, so I stopped looking. After we returned to Kansas, I asked him about the copy but he said he had lost it.

  Back in Lawrence, I was getting more disturbed by the vibrations in the house. On the 24th of January, 2018, I began packing the van for another spontaneous trip, feeling chased away by the ongoing turmoil. Driving south on 59, I began to feel relief as I sped away from town. For three nights I stayed with my friends in Hutchinson. Everything felt calm. Then I spent three nights with my former neighbors in Wichita. All was calm and serene. Driving east on 400, I was slowly moving toward the Ozarks for the next ceremony, scheduled for February 3rd.

  I made the mistake of sending two messages about attending the upcoming ceremony in the Ozarks. These were “private” messages, sent through Facebook. When I arrived at my destination, everything felt calm. No one else was around. It was Friday evening, February 2nd. I went walking toward the area where people would be gathering in the morning. As soon as I got there, I felt a disturbing vibration and immediately turned to walk away. The vibe followed me. When I crawled in the van, the vibration seemed to increase with intensity. I went back outside and began walking across a field of grass, toward a highway bridge. Going under the bridge seemed to diminish the vibration, so I stayed down there for nearly an hour. When I emerged on the other side of the highway, walking out into the open, everything felt calm again. I slept in the van and felt no disturbances for the rest of the night.

  The next day passed without any weird-feeling vibrations. The ceremonies went on as usual, and I enjoyed visiting with several people. Late that night, however, I felt strong vibrations in my van, just as I was leaning in through the sliding door. It was like a field of weird energy was already being projected onto the van. Crawling in there, I felt absolutely sure I was being assaulted. I walked away and went under the bridge again, feeling slight relief from the vibes, though I was cold. When I came walking out from underneath, I felt the vibes going through me again. Then I returned to the van.

  Taking my blankets along, I walked way over to the river and found a sand bar to sleep on. It was soft and comfortable but I was shivering with cold, and the weird vibes were still assaulting me. I went back to the van, then to the chapel. About fifteen or twenty people were in there with their sleeping bags and blankets, laying all over the floor. I stood near the entrance, not wanting to wake anyone, yet unsure about where to go or what to do. I left the chapel and walked over to a small kitchen shack, looking around inside for some aluminum foil to wrap around myself. Finding none, I walked back over to the front entrance of the chapel, stepping in for a moment to get warm. Someone raised a head to look at me. All this time, I was getting zapped.

  Then I decided to leave. I went back to the van, started it up and drove out of there. It was after five o'clock in the morning, and I had not slept all night. The winding highway brought me west to the nearest town, and from there I went north until I connected with highway 60. Although I was sad to leave without telling anyone goodbye, I felt I had no choice, desperately needing to get away from the assault I was feeling. That afternoon I was caught in a snowstorm with car wrecks all up and down the highway. When the van started sliding around, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, I pulled over in the town of Clinton and booked a hotel room for the night.  

  When I returned to the house in Lawrence, I immediately asked my two house mates to not tell anyone I was back in town. Mostly, I stressed that I didn't want them texting or saying anything over their phones about my return. They both assured me they would not do such things. It was Tuesday afternoon, February 6th. No bad vibes were apparent for a day. By Wednesday evening though, I was feeling weird pulsations again, buzzing through my skull. I left the house and rode downtown on my bicycle, but the bad vibes seemed to be following me.

  I ran into Stella at the Jazzhaus, and she offered me a place to sleep in the upstairs of her place on Ohio Street. I walked with her to the parking garage, then she drove us to her house. She showed me the upstairs room and told me I was free to come and go, as the front door would remain unlocked. After going back to the Jazzhaus for another hour or so, I rode my bike over to Stella's place. When I went to lie down that night, I immediately felt a strange energy in my chest as my heart started racing, pounding intensely for no plausible reason – except for perhaps another electronic assault. With a heavy sigh, I cussed a few words and started putting my clothes back on. I rode my bike home and went upstairs, still feeling the strange pulsations in my head and chest.

  The next day I pulled a large cardboard box from the basement and broke it down to lie flat over me. Then I started layering sheets of aluminum foil over it, and each night I would pull it over the top of me before falling asleep. The cardboard had two folding points, allowing the flaps to hang over each side of me, with the middle portion resting directly over me. By morning it would be in shambles, with strips of foil falling in different directions, leaving only the bare cardboard above me. I went to buy some duct tape and spray adhesive, planning to make a more permanent blocking device. Before I spent time doing that, I wanted to use a much larger piece of cardboard – a refrigerator-sized box. I began asking for such a box at a home appliance store, and they promised to save the next refrigerator box for me.

  For now, I am still using the crappy rig of aluminum foil, loosely wrapped over the same piece of cardboard I was using. There were nights when I wasn't feeling any bad vibrations, so I didn't concern myself with it. The cardboard and aluminum stayed in the closet. Recently though, I have been feeling disturbing pulses of vibrations, so for the last two nights I have pulled the cardboard and aluminum shield over me. It seems to block some of the disturbance, and I am able to sleep with less concern about my well-being. Some folks might say that this is psychosomatic, though I say it is not. Either way, it's better for my healthy state of mind.

  On two separate occasions when I had the foil and cardboard shield over me, I clearly heard a small “popping” sound, like little grains of sand hitting against the aluminum. It was a steady tempo of tapping sounds; it had a rhythm to it. I first heard this back in January, then again last night, on the first of March. After feeling the disturbing vibrations for several hours before I settled in to sleep, I had just pulled the shield over me, and I was clearly hearing that tapping sound again. I laid there in disbelief, wishing I had something to record the sound with, or to make a video. My digital camera was not far away. Then I had a better thought that I spoke to myself: “If I'm gonna be wishing for things, then actually, I wish for these fuckin' vibes to go fuck off somewhere else and leave me alone.”

  In the morning, most of the foil had fallen away from the cardboard. I laid there wondering how much I had been getting zapped during sleep. Downstairs, I went through my stretch routine. Then sat on the toilet, pondering over which direction my day would go. A part of me wanted to find a different appliance store to get the box I needed to make a better shield. Another part of me wanted bring the computer to a coffee shop, hoping to find an end to this chapter.

  When I finally got a large refrigerator box, I opened it up to lay flat on the back porch. On a day that was sunny and calm, I began using spray adhesive to attach strips of aluminum foil to the cardboard. Brooke came outside to smoke a cigarette, and asked, “What are you making?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry about.”

  “I'm not worried, I'm just wondering what that is.”

  “I can't explain, Brooke. You wouldn't understand.”

  Then she was on the phone, talking to someone as she started saying, “Joe is out here making this… thing. It's a big piece of cardboard and he's putting…”

  I interrupted her.   “Brooke, will you stop? Just stop. It ain't nobody's business. It's none of your concern.”   I was annoyed with her for talking about my project over the phone. Several times, I had asked Brooke and Cory to not mention my presence around there, over the phone or internet, but they both kept doing it, anyway. Cory was sending me an email each month, showing the breakdown of the previous month's utility bills. That was pissing me off. He could have easily told me in person, as we would see each other nearly every day. He was basically confirming my location every time he did that. Multiple times throughout the winter, I had to leave, trying to get away from the electronic assault I was experiencing. No matter how many times I asked my housemates to not be sending anything online that would reveal my return or my presence there, they both kept on doing just that. I was also annoyed that I had shared much of this chapter with Cory, and he still didn't believe me. I should have known.

  When I began to move out, near the end of March, I kept noticing different people at different times, sitting nearby in an idle running car, just watching me as I loaded my things into the van. As usual, they were not picking up anyone or dropping anyone off, and they were not looking for a parking space. They were just watching me. One woman sat there for maybe an hour, staring at me as I brought many loads of things out to my van. Then I held up my arms and yelled, “What? What do you want?” I walked directly to her car, took a good look at her face as I walked past her car window, and continued to walk beyond her car. She appeared to be talking on a phone. I glanced at her license plate when I began to walk back toward my van, and as I walked past her, I spoke out the letters and numbers on her tag. A frightened look came over her face as she started driving away.

  After I had cleared all of my things out of the house, I temporarily stayed with Stella and Kelly, near Ninth and Ohio. I had already brought all of my big aloe vera plants to the farm, hoping we were beyond anymore hard freezes with the weather. Then I saw a forecast for really cold weather over the next few days. I had to make a sudden trip to the farm, to light up the wood stove and save the big aloes from freezing. It was the first day of April. There were multiple car accidents all along the highway, as wet snow was falling, then turning to ice on the road. I stopped at a rest area on Interstate 29 to get out of the traffic. Having recently bought a cell phone for the first time in my life, I called Herb's cell phone to tell him I was on my way up.   “I'm at the rest area on 29, south of Saint Joseph. There were car wrecks all up and down the highway, ever since I left Lawrence.”

  “Where are you calling from? I mean… how are you calling?”   “I bought a little flip-phone the other day. Anyway, I should be there in a couple hours.”

  Not long after I left the rest area, I noticed a little black sports car directly behind me, following way too closely. I slowed down to 60 miles per hour, but they did not pass me. I slowed to to 50, then 40. Any other car would have gone around me, but this car stayed directly behind me. I slowed down to 30, then 20. While all the other traffic was flying past us at seventy miles an hour or faster, this car remained close behind me. I was getting angry. I hit the breaks, several times, yet they still did not pass. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, rolled down my window and put my left arm out, pointing forward as a gesture for them to go around. They appeared to be pulling over behind me, like they were undercover cops or something. Then they started going past me, hesitantly, like they didn't know what to do to next. As they were finally going by, I yelled, “Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck do you want?!” With their windows closed, they likely didn't hear me. It was two men. They finally went on past me, then I sped up behind them to get a reading of their license plate. They took the next exit as I held up my middle finger, asking, “What the fuck was that?”

  It becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a vast network of creeps who are on a government payroll, wasting American tax dollars to spy on people like me – someone doing nothing wrong, but had made the mistake of speaking out about government corruption. It appears that these jerks are relentlessly watching me.

  When I arrived at Herb's house, Herb told me he was leaving for Guatemala in the morning. I was glad to have seen him before he left. He poured me a glass of beer as he, Larry, and I all talked. When I slept on the farm that night, everything remained calm. No weird vibrations were apparent. The next evening when I went to the Grove, Larry told me that Frank had called and wanted me to call him. As usual, Frank and I talked for more than an hour on the phone. Also as usual, our conversation evolved into an in-depth discussion about the evil in our government. That second night back on the farm remained calm.

  The next day, I was over at Herb's house when Larry and Russ walked in from somewhere. I went out to my van to grab some DVD movies I had borrowed from Russ. As I opened the passenger-side door, there on the road in front of me was a man in a tan-colored sports utility vehicle, sitting idle and looking at my van as he appeared to be talking on a phone. I wrongly assumed he was with Larry and Russ. Stepping back into the house, I asked, “Is that dude out there waiting for you guys?” Larry and Russ said they were not with anyone, so I quickly looked outside and saw the guy rolling away. Suddenly I felt a growing rage toward that man. It appeared that another person was keeping a watch on me. “God damn that fuckin' prick,” I said. “These creepy feds need to go find some bigger fish to fry. Jeezus Kreist, they are pissing me off.” Larry and Russ, I'm sure, were uncertain of what I was talking about. Still, I continued ranting about electronic weapons assaulting me for so many years.

  The next few nights on the farm remained calm, but then on the morning of Friday, April 6th I was sitting at my computer in the bus when I started feeling strange vibrations in my head and chest. “No. It can't be,” I said aloud. Then I focused my mind to “listen.” It was happening again. I was being assaulted. It seemed to be coming from the southeast, as it always had before. With another feeling of rage building inside me, I stood up, facing toward the direction of assault, clinched both of my fists and screamed, “God damn you, fucking cowards!” Turning off the computer, I began to organize a few things as I planned to drive the twenty or more miles to Frank's place.

  I stopped twice along the way, turning off the engine to “hear” the vibrations. I did not detect anything. When I pulled into Frank's driveway and shut off the engine, though, I felt the bad vibes again. Frank came walking outside as I said, “They're zapping me, Frank. I came all the way up here to get away from it, but I'm feeling it here, just as soon as I shut off the engine.” We both went into the house and talked about it as I paced back and forth, keeping my body moving around, not wanting to be a stationary target. My throat was feeling tense and tight again. Frank noticed me holding my throat, and he asked me about it. I told him, “Yeah, my throat keeps feeling all tight and numb for the last several months. I feel like they are targeting my glands in there.” I continued pacing back and forth. Then I went outside, walking toward the field to the east. I ducked behind the north wall of a metal shed and instantly felt relief from the assault, which seemed to be coming from the south. So I squatted there with my bare feet on the dirt as I imagined a computerized, automated tracking system that had lost me. In my mind, I pictured it quickly scanning the area, then perhaps resetting the weapon to an inactive position. I thought maybe it might let me be. After ten minutes or so, I walked back over and went into the house. I wasn't feeling anything weird for a while, but then the vibe became apparent again. I went out to hide behind the metal shed, and again I felt relief, but only for as long as I stayed there. Going back in the house, I told Frank, “That metal shed out there seems to block the vibes that appear to be coming from the south, from the direction of Albany.” Frank said, “From the south, that's where it was coming from when I was getting it.”

  I grabbed the phone to call my sister.   “Hello?”

  “Hey Liz, I need prayers again.”

  “Joe, Hi. I was just thinking about you.”  

  “Yeah... telepathy. Liz, I'm getting zapped again, and it's ruining my life.”

  Another long conversation ensued about the ongoing ordeal. We were on the phone for more than an hour. At one point, I mentioned that the ongoing electronic torture was making me feel suicidal at times. Liz said, “Oh, Joe, no...” I replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not gonna let them win. There are things I want to do before I'm gone. Publishing my book is one of them. I need to get it done, but it's really difficult when I keep having to jump up and run away from the bad vibrations. My life is becoming more random and spontaneous, having to be constantly on the move. I don't tell people where I'm going, because usually I don't know. This is no way to live. I'm so tired of all this.”

  Again, Liz said she and her children would pray for me. In the next few days, I was relieved to observe the naturally occurring calmness around me. I went to Lawrence and returned, feeling only a calm peacefulness for many days. Then I was at herb's house when the phone rang. I was the only person in the house at the time, so I answered the call.   “Hello?”

  “Herb?”

  “Herb went to town for a bit.”   “Oh. Who's this?”   “Joe.”

  Oh, Hi Joe. This is Frieda. Are you back now?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Are you gonna stay around for a while?”   “Maybe. I don't know.”

  She went on about a relative who was bringing a trailer to her property across the road. She asked if any vehicles were blocking the drive, and if so, could someone move them. I told her I would go look, and that I would speak to Herb about it. She called back three more times. While I tried to be polite and accommodating, she kept asking me questions that were specific to my whereabouts at any given time:

  “Are you going back over to the farm tonight?”

  “Yes.” With that reply, a discomfort came over me. It was a truthful answer, but I felt bad for saying it. This annoying phone call was demanding too much information, and I felt that my safety was being compromised. My mind was asking, “Why am I allowing this conversation to happen? Should I have just lied and said I am not going to the farm? Should I hang up the phone?” Then she asked,  

  “Will you be around Herb's tomorrow?”

  “Possibly.”

  “In the morning or in the afternoon?”

  “I don't know, Frieda. I gotta go.”

  It must have taken me another forty-seven seconds to shake her off the phone, and I became irritated, wondering why I didn't just hang up on her. In the days that followed, more electronically bad vibrations returned, bringing the nightmare back to life as I began to gather a few things for another trip to Lawrence. I felt angry with Frieda for asking so many questions, and I was angry with myself for responding to them. Driving away from it all, I said, “Fuck it. I just won't answer that phone anymore.”

Returning to Lawrence, I found some relief for a few days.

  On the internet, I discovered a woman named Doctor Katherine Horton. A physicist, formerly employed at CERN (the European Organization for Nuclear Research), Doctor Horton is a self-described whistle-blower and targeted individual. She was in multiple videos, addressing the issue of electronic assault and torture. In one of these videos, she held a detection device which lit up with lights and sound as she held it to areas around her head, especially when she held it near her throat. She said, “Look at this. Look at this,” as she moved it back and forth, close to her throat area, then away. The device was showing a more intense reaction each time it was near her throat. This woman was apparently being assaulted, electronically. She showed and described some of the measures she had taken to protect herself, including a Faraday cage and walls lined with aluminum. She was also interviewed in podcasts with other targeted individuals, discussing protective measures.

  I found it refreshing to hear people speaking of these things in such a matter-of-fact way. They all know the electronic assault is happening, and they get right to the point in their discussions. It gives me a sense of hope, knowing that some folks are out there speaking truth and raising awareness about this issue.

  All has been calm since my return two days ago. I was in Lawrence for five days, and my concerns about being targeted had faded. The strange experience of my throat going tight and numb, that had gone away as well. I was feeling grateful, giving thanks for the calm serenity that was completely normal for most of my life. Although I have wanted to call a few people, I've refrained from picking up the phone.

  On the evening of May the first, I was home on the farm, preparing to drive to the Grove when I heard a truck coming down the road. I decided to stay back in the darkness to see what the driver would do. Strangely, the truck slowed as it approached, turned toward the fence across the road from me, then backed up, turned in the direction it came from, and drove away. This was suspicious behavior. I thought that they could have been random thieves, looking to scour the farm. But I also felt that it could have been a part of the surveillance, checking to see if I was home. Most people are not going to drive the gravel road two miles away from the highway, just to turn around like they weren't actually going anywhere. It seemed obvious that the driver slowed and turned around as soon as he or she saw my van in the driveway.

  Everything remained calm through the night and into the morning. Herb came over here a while ago as I was cooking a pot of soup. He sat on the porch and talked to someone on his cell phone. At one point, I heard him say, “I'm up at Joe's place.” I gave Herb a bowl of soup, then he laid down to rest on the porch. I brought him a sleeping pad and pillow. After a short while, he got up to go back to the Grove. As Herb was driving away, I sat at my computer when suddenly I felt some weird pulses of vibrations coming from the southeast. Again, I felt my throat getting tight and numb. I had not felt anything like that for about a week. Making a mental note that Herb had just mentioned on the phone that he was “up at Joe’s place,” I thought maybe that call could have alerted someone to my presence there, and perhaps that had something to do with the weird vibrations abruptly returning.

  The bad vibes were off and on for the next two days as I gradually organized the van for another drive away from the farm. On Friday evening, May 4th, I drove over the Missouri River at Atchison, Kansas, and continued down to Lawrence. As usual, I've apparently escaped of “their” tracking system, as I have not been feeling any weird vibrations now for the last three days. Often I have thought that if “they” were that serious about continuing to assault me, they could have put a tracking device on my van. I wouldn't know where to look for such a device, and with modern technology, the thing could be extremely small. But it seems that no tracking devices have been on the van, because I generally seem to escape the torment when I drive sufficiently far and fast.

  On the farm, May 17th, 2018: I left here thirteen days ago to escape the weird vibrations. I Had not felt much of anything bad since leaving. For the most part, everything has been calm, with no tension or numbness in my throat area. Three days ago, on Monday I returned, and everything remained calm until just a while ago.

  Earlier today, I drove to town to renew my vehicle registration, get some groceries, and I picked up some movies from the Library. I wondered if checking out things from the library would alert certain people of my return, or maybe renewing my vehicle registration might have made my presence known. I am certainly not not looking for any bad vibes to return, though I couldn't help noticing that something hasn't felt right since I parked at Herb's house. Then I drove here to the farm, and my throat has been feeling stiff again. There is the slightest sensation of a vibration, ever so faint, yet it's enough to let me know that something is not right. Suddenly I am faced with perhaps another spontaneous escape from this place.

  It has been five days since I wrote that last paragraph. I rolled to Lawrence on Sunday afternoon, feeling free of the weird energy after I got far away from the farm. My first stop was at the Gaslight Tavern for the weekly open jam.

  The next evening, I went to Papa Keno’s for the open jam session. Shortly after I began playing my guitar, a middle-aged couple came out onto the back patio. Sitting at a table, they immediately lifted their phone-cameras and started recording me and the others. It felt wrong and it seemed out of place, and I turned away to keep my image from being captured, though I knew it was already too late. I felt nearly certain that those two were another pair surveillance people. The man went inside Papa Keno’s for a moment. When the woman continued to aim her camera-phone at me, I walked over to her and said, “Will you please stop pointing your camera at me?” I felt a strong urge to grab the beverage from her table and throw it in her face, but I restrained myself. She said, “Oh, Okay,” as she lowered her phone. When her partner returned, she whispered something to him and he looked at me. I glared at both of them, almost wishing for some terrible tragedy to fall upon them.

  I stepped away from the patio and walked down the alley, around the south end of the block, then north on Massachusetts Street. As I went through the front door of Papa Keno’s, those same two people were in there, appearing like they were leaving, though they seemed hesitant about what they were doing. They both acted surprised, even nervous about me suddenly being there in front of them. As they exited the place, I watched through the front window glass, observing their behavior as they went across the street and continued going north. Several times, the man turned back to look at me.

  I went out the back door to speak with the others. Of all my friends and acquaintances on the patio, none of us knew those two people. They were unfamiliar to all of us, yet they immediately started recording us when they arrived. One of my friends suggested, “Maybe they were just excited about the music and wanted to film it.” I replied, “That’s entirely possible, but that’s not how it felt to me.”   After all the years of being electronically assaulted, while also noticing the strange people following or photographing me, I felt more resentment and disdain for those creeps – working for an evil government, targeting innocent people, and living off of taxes like a bunch of parasites. Perhaps those who do the following and photographing are completely disconnected from, and unaware of the programs of electronic assault. Such may be the case with compartmentalized government operations. Perhaps it’s like the saying goes: “The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”

  While I can offer no proof that those two people at Papa Keno’s were spies or informants, my intuition strongly told me it was so. Many of these encounters might have gone completely unnoticed by me, had I not experienced the years of electronic assault, coinciding with incidents of surveillance. What the trauma has done is put me on high alert, making me pay close attention when people’s behavior becomes obviously strange and out of place. And though some people would call this paranoia, I call it awareness. There is a big difference.

  Little Farm, 17th of June: I was down in the garden, wearing the upper portion of a protective bee suit to keep the mosquitoes away from me while I hoed weeds. Suddenly I heard several guys on ATVs roll up near the driveway. They were noisily sitting idle, just outside of the driveway as I heard a voice yelling, “You wanna go first?” I got the impression that they were about to roll across the Little Farm bridge. (One of Herb’s cars had recently been vandalized, as someone had smashed out most of the window glass with a brick, and I was thinking about that incident when I heard these guys yelling.) Before they attempted to come onto the farm bridge, I emerged from behind some trees and bushes, and began to walk toward them with the hoe in my hand. As soon as they saw me, they all started driving away, crossing the county bridge toward the south. They were fat and bald, with mustaches on their faces. Their behavior was suspicious, and they seemed like cops. It was an intuitive feeling that occurred to me; they had that “cop vibe.” Then I had the thought that I should have waited behind the bushes to see what those guys would have done if they thought nobody was there. Would they have come onto the Little Farm? If so, then what? Feeling slightly disturbed about the encounter, I walked up the hill to my place.

  Later that night, I started getting heavily zapped. It was some of the strongest electronic assault I had felt in years, and I immediately began to pack the van for departure. I wondered if perhaps there was a correlation between the odd experience in the south driveway, and then getting zapped a few hours later. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some cops have been involved,” I said to myself as I began packing a few things into the van, planning to leave in the morning. I slept under the cardboard and aluminum shield which seemed to be blocking the assault. The zapping continued steadily through the night and into the next morning, as I finished packing for a drive to Lincoln. Putting away the ladder, turning off the propane, and locking the gates, I was frantic about trying to hurry away and escape the onslaught of bad energy.

  My niece, Nancy, had invited me to her wedding, scheduled to take place on the 23rd of June. So I drove toward Lincoln, five days early. For most of that drive, I felt like the vibe was still on me, though it was difficult to decipher with all the normal vibrations of rolling on the road.

  Arriving at Liz and Frank's place, I parked under the shade of a tree. (Frank in Nebraska is my sister’s husband, not to be confused with Frank from Missouri.) I felt rattled, yet uncertain if I was still getting zapped. Soon, however, I was totally feeling it. I began to notice that the attack seemed to be coming from a place in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees up from the horizon. In all the years I had been to visit Liz and Frank, I had never felt the electronic assault on their property. They had been on a ten-acre spread for many years now, and it was always a calm place of refuge for me. That afternoon, however, I went into the van three times, pulling the aluminum shield over myself, feeling relief while napping and sweating. The temperature was really hot that day, though I didn’t mind the heat; it was nothing compared to getting zapped. The first two times I came out from under my shield, I was still feeling the assault. The third time, however, all seemed calm, like the weapon had finally switched off.

  I felt really upset that I was getting targeted at Liz and Frank's farm. I told Liz about it, though she was preoccupied with wedding preparations. I asked her if she had told anyone of my presence there, over the phone or internet. She said, “I called Anne and told her you were here.”   “When was that?”

  “Not long after you arrived.”

  “Well, that would explain it.”

  For the next five days, I felt the usual symptoms of a numb throat and jaw area, pressure in my skull, and the continuing pulses of vibrations. Each night, I found relief by sleeping under the protection of my aluminum shield.

  On the morning of the wedding, I was talking to Frank in the living room when I suddenly felt strong electronic pulses coming from that same part of the southern sky. It was enough to make me spin around and go out the north door, through the mud porch. I went out the east storm door and immediately crouched down beside the foundation wall of concrete blocks, hoping it would shield against the oncoming assault. I did feel alleviation. It seemed that I had temporarily shaken whatever tracking system had been locked onto me. I stayed squatting there for several minutes, breathing sighs of relief, wondering how long until “it” latched onto me again. That last series of pulsations interrupted my chat with Frank. He had been speaking to me at the time when I abruptly turned around and left the room. A few seconds later, I was crouching near the north foundation wall.

  After I stood up and walked around the northeast corner of the house, all felt calm, as though I had successfully escaped detection for a while. But as soon as I returned to my van, leaning in to grab something, I felt the vibes latching onto me again.

  My brother Dave drove us to the wedding. It was at a Catholic church in Lincoln. As far as I could tell, the tracking system was still on me, still causing that constant numbness below my tongue, and the familiar pressure in my skull. The wedding was long and unbearably dull – a Catholic mass with an arrogant priest spouting words of ignorance. He was annoying. Moreover, I still felt like I was getting zapped by something in the southern sky. So I exited several times, noting a feeling of relief from the vibrations when I stepped outside the church and stayed near a north wall.

  When Dave and I left the church parking lot, we followed our nephew a few blocks east to a health food store, and I felt completely disconnected from the weird vibes, having apparently evaded them again. Then we all went to the reception, ten miles away, mostly to the west. For several hours, I felt free from the electronic assault. It was gone, and I knew I had broken free again. At the same time, I suspected that whenever I returned to my van, the bad vibes might return.

  Dave drove us back to Liz and Frank's property, and sure enough, when I opened the sliding van door and leaned in to grab a few things, I felt that weird energy going through me again. I started building a fire in the nearby fire pit, thinking, “What else am I going to do?” I smoked some cannabis through a carrot and continued putting sticks on the fire. Then people began to return from the wedding reception, mostly my nieces and nephews. Several of them were asking me to sing songs. So I strummed a guitar and sang, feeling like I was getting zapped the entire time. I tried to ignore the assault while I focused on the feeling of the music.

  After a while, I put the guitar away, thinking I needed to get ready for bed. Mostly, I wanted to pull the aluminum shield over myself for protection. It was undeniable, the relief I felt whenever I was using that shield during my time there. At one point, I said to myself, “The good news is that the shield seems to be working. The bad news is that it’s probably been a microwave weapon zapping me.”

  Waking up on Sunday morning, I pushed the shield to the side and immediately felt bad vibes, like a field of weird energy was being projected onto the van throughout the night. With the usual disturbing feelings of electronic assault going through me, I went through my morning stretches.

  Then I started organizing a small pack to bring to Colorado. My nephew Tom had offered me a ride, saying I could sleep on the couch in his apartment. So I accepted the offer. As we rolled further away from Lincoln, my anxiety began to diminish with the fading vibrations. During the early part of the drive, I told Tom and Katie about my ongoing ordeal with electronic weapons, while stressing that I did not want anyone on their phones, speaking or texting about me riding to Colorado. They both agreed to “keep it on the down-low,” and they didn't seem to think I was crazy when I told them my story. With each stop we made during the six hour drive, I noted the complete disconnect I felt from any hint of electronic assault.

  For a week I slept on the couch in Tom’s apartment. Each day while Tom and Katie were at work, I took long walks through the surrounding neighborhoods of Lakewood, feeling extremely grateful for the relief I was feeling. Most of that time, I was reluctant to log into my email or Facebook accounts, fearing the dreaded return of the electronic nightmare. I kept mentioning to Tommy that I had not felt any bad vibes ever since we drove to Colorado: “It’s been like a complete disconnect from any of that electronic weirdness. It’s such an obvious difference... I can tell that they’ve lost track of me again. They don’t know where I am.” Tom said, “Well, that’s good.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Everything feels totally calm... like it was for most of my life before all that weird shit started.”

  Then one day I took my computer a few blocks away to borrow the wifi signal from a tire store, making sure my VPN service was turned on. After looking at my email and Facebook accounts, I closed the computer and began to walk north, across Colfax Avenue. About midway up the next block, I suddenly felt an electrical kind of pulse coming from the northwest, and penetrating into my skull. Multiple thoughts raced through my mind, like, “Am I getting zapped? Was it just some cell phone microwaves flying by? Maybe it’s wifi signals.” Walking toward Tom’s apartment with my throat feeling strange, I took an indirect route, altering my course several times in an attempt to avoid being tracked or followed. At one point, I stepped into a creek and went under a bridge, partly as an attempt to decipher whether I was feeling differently down there, and also to shake off any type of electronic tracking system which may have been onto me.

  When I finally came back above ground, I ran toward Tom’s place and let myself in, breathing heavily from the running. Katie asked, “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Between deep breaths, I said, “I was just trying to… shake off a weird vibe that... I thought might have latched onto me...” As my breathing slowed, I told Kate and Tom what I had experienced after logging into my email and Facebook accounts. For the next several days, there were moments when I wondered if I was catching any weird vibes. I was no longer feeling the “complete disconnect” of the previous week. Instead, I was noticing occasional pulses of weird energy that kept me wondering.

  Then my sister Anne invited me to stay with her and Duncan. So I gathered my things and settled into a basement room in Arvada. For the first few days, everything felt calm and normal. But after talking on the phone and using the internet, I started feeling weird vibrations again. At times I wondered If it might be the nearby freezer or refrigerator causing the disturbance, so I would step outside the room, only to notice that those appliances were not running at the time; they were completely silent. Then I went upstairs to see if any fans were on. No fans were running. So what were all of these strange pulses of vibrations I kept feeling, and why was everything completely calm for the first several days? Initially, I was reluctant to talk on the phone or use the internet. Then I let down my guard, and everything went strange again.

  At times, it seems there is no escape. When I run into friends and relatives, they want to take pictures of me and post them on social media. They also text each other about seeing me somewhere. I began thinking, “Do I have to abandon everyone I know and move to another country?”

  For many years I had remained mostly silent about my ongoing experience with the electronic assault. In recent months, however, I had begun to tell more people about it.

  My cousin Janelle came to visit Anne’s family during the time when I was there. On the Fourth of July, Janelle and I were out at Tony’s place near a lake. As we talked under the shade of a porch roof, I began to relay most of my story to her. She was receptive, patiently listening, then she said, “Wow, Joe. That’s quite a story.” It was not in a tone of ridicule or doubt; she seemed to believe me.

  A few days later, I was riding in a car with my niece, Kim, and a few of her kids. While driving us through Westminster, Kim spoke of a friend, telling me, “Her dad had mental illness.” Then I noted a hint of ridicule in Kim’s voice when she said, “He thought the government was after him.” I interjected, saying, “How do you know they weren’t?”   “What?”   “Kim, I’ve been having my own struggle with the government. They’ve been messing with me for more than ten years.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  I began telling her my story, from being an outspoken activist, to the surveillance I had noticed at times, to the ongoing electronic attacks. When we arrived at her house, the conversation continued into the kitchen. I gave her many details, including the case of Pedro Campos in Puerto Rico, the podcasts with Doctor Katherine Horton and other targeted individuals, and the things Annie Jacobsen had spoken of on the radio. At one point, Kim said, “Uncle Joe, I believe you.” I replied, “Thanks, Kim. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

   Occasionally I talked with Anne about the disturbance. She said she believes me. I did not mention any of it to Duncan because I was fairly certain he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t think he would keep the conversation between the two of us, since Anne told me that he cannot keep a secret about anything.

  The strange vibrations at Anne and Duncan’s house were off and on for several weeks. I took frequent walks to escape the disturbance, exploring the parks that run along Ralston creek. On days when I felt the vibe was still on me, I stayed for some time in the tunnel that goes under Simms Street, pacing back and forth, hoping the thick concrete would be enough to escape detection. Every time I went walking, which was several times a day, I always felt calm upon my return, like nothing was zapping me. Then the weird vibrations would start up again.

  When I first escaped to Colorado during the last week of June, I did not know how long I would be out here. I thought it might be a couple of weeks. Yet Anne kept encouraging me to stay longer, saying she wanted to throw a birthday party for me and two of my nephews. So I stayed around and tried to work on the book. A few weeks had gone by when I called Liz on the phone to discuss my eventual return to her place:   “Is it alright that my van is still parked there under that tree?”   “Oh yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks. At some point, I’m gonna take the train from Denver to Lincoln. It arrives after three in the morning, so I don’t know what I’ll do. As much as I would like to see all of you, I might just get in the van and drive away. I want to go to a random place for a while, to see if everything remains calm. I need to know if there is some kind of tracking device on my van. I’ll leave you guys a note or something.”   “That’s alright, I understand. How’s it going out there?”   “I don’t know. I’m still getting some weird vibes at times. Whatever this is, and who ever has been doing it, I wish they would leave me alone. I’m sure they think they’re clever with all their technology, but they’re really just a bunch of cowards.”   “Yeah.”   “Anyway, I did escape to the mountains a few times, and that was nice.”

   Although my three treks to the tops of Colorado mountains were adventurous, the third trip was disturbing. In his truck, Duncan drove us to the base of Uncompahgre Peak in Southwest Colorado, where we camped for the night. Waking early, we began our hike at around 3:30 in the morning, and I was feeling a steady vibration going through me. Hiking up the trail, I wondered, “Am I getting zapped?” It most certainly felt like I was. I thought about Duncan using his GPS (Global Positioning System) when he drives anywhere. That would make our location known to certain people in government. We descended down the mountain and prepared to leave. Duncan was driving us along the rocky road away from there, when something strange happened. We passed a man and woman who were driving an off-road vehicle toward the base of the mountain, and as we went past them, the woman held up a camera and took a picture of us. Duncan and Tom both commented on the oddness of that occurrence. For me, it was a moment of verification – another incident of surveillance, along with the vibration I had been feeling that entire time; it bolstered my suspicion that I had been electronically assaulted all the way up and down that mountain.

  During the last week at Anne and Duncan’s house, I was feeling strange electronic pulses in other parts of the house, apart from the room I was staying in. Taking more frequent walks, I managed to avoid some of the weird vibrations. Near the end of August, I went to house-sit for Tom and Kate for five days. Everything felt normal and calm while I was there. The apartment was only a few blocks from a Denver Light-Rail train stop, so when Tom and Kate returned, I gathered my things and rode the W train to Union Station in downtown Denver.

  Paying with cash, I bought an Amtrak Train ticket to Lincoln, scheduled to depart that evening. My hope was to slip away from Colorado unnoticed, without being tracked. After seven or eight hours on the train, I rode a taxi to Liz and Frank’s place. The van battery was dead. Frank helped me with charging the battery before I drove east.

  In Maryville, Missouri, I stopped to buy some groceries, including a large bottle of Heineken beer. When the young lady at the register asked to see my identification, I asked, “Do I really look too young to buy this beer?” She said, “I’m required to ask everyone for their I.D. when purchasing alcohol.” I said, “That’s ridiculous, since I’m obviously way over the required age of twenty-one.” Then I pulled out my driver’s license and held it out to show her the date of birth. She took it from my hand and scanned it. When I heard the “beep” sound, I said, “Fuck! What did you do that for?” I put my right hand over my eyes, feeling angry and upset. After being so careful to get away from Colorado without being noticed by “the enemy,” suddenly I felt that I was likely on their control grid again. I asked the cashier, “Are you familiar with the book, ‘1984,’ by George Orwell?” She replied, “I’ve heard of it.” I said, “Maybe someday you might read it.”

    Upon returning to the farm, everything remained calm for about a week. On September fifth, I received a package that Anne sent from Colorado. That night, I started feeling the disturbing vibrations again, so I drove to Lawrence, getting some peace and calm for several days before returning to the farm. Throughout September, October, and November, the same pattern repeated: I would enjoy several days of calm on the farm, then disturbing vibes would return, so I’d pack a few things and escape to Lawrence.

  On Saturday, October 27th, I drove toward Lawrence. Passing through Oskaloosa, I turned west on highway 92 and went to visit Stan and Cathy’s home near Perry Lake. Shutting off the van in front of their house, I immediately felt the weird vibrations going through me. Stan came outside talking to me, and I was temporarily distracted from the vibrations. Inside the house, Cathy gave me a hug, and Stan poured me a glass of beer. They were inviting me to join them on the deck overlooking the lake, and to fly Stan’s drone while making video of the flight. But I was feeling that continuing, disturbing vibration, and though I really wanted to experience flying the drone and seeing the view from above, I knew I could not stay. Several times I paused, focusing on the electronic assault, then Stan said, “Are you okay, Joe?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I really wanted to fly the drone and drink this tasty beer, but I can’t stay.”

  “Is something wrong? You looked like you were having a moment of revelation there for a minute.”

  “Yes, something is definitely wrong. I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. But apparently I was too outspoken, and I became a target. The government has been messing with me for more than ten years. I used to carry a big sign that said, ‘The government did nine-eleven,’ and I really regret being that outspoken about things. Back then I was like, ‘freedom of speech, use it or lose it.’ I had no idea of the repercussions or consequences of speaking out against an evil government. I was so naive.”

  Tears were running down my face. I felt devastated, knowing that the perpetrators of electronic torture had tracked me to my friends’ home. It was no longer a place where I could feel safe, and that made me extremely sad. The last time I was there, which was about a week earlier, Stan had expressed interest in reading my book, and giving me his thoughts about it. So I put all of the chapters on his computer, including this one. Could that be the reason why the government criminals were now assaulting me there? I had never told Stan and Cathy about the years of electronic assault, feeling that they probably wouldn’t believe me. I hugged them both and drove away with tears rolling down my face. Arriving in Lawrence that evening, I detected no more of the bad vibrations.

  On Monday, November 19th, I left the farm for another escape to Lawrence. North of town, I stopped by a friend’s house near Wellman Road. It happened again. When I shut off the van, the vibrations were obvious. This was a place I had been to many times, for about fifteen years, and I had never felt the electronic assault there. I told my friend that I had to leave. When I got to Lawrence, everything felt calm and normal.  

  Though I did not feel any disturbing vibrations in Lawrence during these past few months, I did notice an alarming increase in the level of surveillance over me. It was completely obvious on many occasions. The surveillance continued in Wichita. The only reason I can fathom for the ridiculous amount of surveillance I’ve been seeing, is that the government criminals know I am trying to tell this story. In December of 2018, I drove to South Texas to avoid the cold weather. I was sleeping in my van every night. The surveillance over me continued in San Antonio, Port Isabel, South Padre Island, and El Paso. I could give many details as to how I know I’ve been under constant surveillance, yet I may save all of that for another chapter. It is just too much information to keep cramming into this chapter, and I am tired of all of it.

  While I was still in Wichita during early December, neighbor Marc emailed me some ebooks from Author Richard Lighthouse. Here are a few excerpts from his book, Targeted Individuals & the Air Force Space Command:

  “These medical doctors, scientists, and former intelligence agents have made statements

supporting the evidence that microwave satellite attacks are real, and happening on a global

basis:

Dr John R. Hall, M.D., author (“New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America”)

Dr Daniel Lebowitz, M.D. (Senate Committee presentation, 2014)

Dr Barrie Trower, government Scientist, microwave expert (youtube videos)

Dr Katherine Horton, Oxford University Scientist (youtube videos)

Dr Spencer Carter, M.D. (BiggerThanSnowden.com)

Dr Colin Ross, M.D., author (“The CIA Doctors”)

Dr Robert Duncan, author

Dr Doug Rokke, government Scientist

Dr Eric Karlstrom, Professor

Dr Nick Begich, Scientist

Dr Paul Batcho, government scientist

Dr Paul Marko, Psychologist

Dr Curtis Bennett, Professor

Dr Corkin Cherubini, author

Dr Matthew Aaron, Scientist

Dr Sean Andrews, Scientist

Willam Binney, NSA Whistleblower

Kirk Weibe, NSA Whistleblower

Karen Stewart, NSA Whistleblower

Carl Clark, CIA Whistleblower

Kevin Shipp, CIA Whistleblower

Mark Phillips, CIA Whistleblower

John DeCamp, Army intelligence Whistleblower”

    “There are 4 active-duty squadrons within the 50th Operations Group, under the Air Force

Space Command. According to the Linkedin Profile of Charles Shurchay (Superintendent -

Air Force Space Command) there are 1,300 personnel, 7 DoD Satellite constellations, and 9

weapon systems that are operated under the 50th Operations Group. Clearly, these are not

simply communications satellites.

  Many of these satellites are positioned in geosynchronous orbit, and are part of a network that

includes communications, tracking, and attack satellites. Using the precise GPS coordinates

of any Targeted Individual, the coordinates can be transferred to local cell towers or UAV

drones for additional targeting. The GPS coordinates are accurate to +/- 0.5 centimeters or

better, which allows different body parts to be targeted and attacked in a grisly, daily ordeal.”

    In another of his books, Cell Towers and Targeted Individuals, Richard claims that most of these attacks on targeted individuals are coming from microwave cell phone towers. This would make sense regarding the attacks on the farm that I felt were coming from the southeast, as there is an array of cell phone microwave towers that are east of the farm, extending southward. According to Richard Lighthouse, these microwave attacks are being orchestrated by the United States Air Force, under the direction of the CIA.

  After all of the strange incidents of surveillance in Texas, I began having thoughts that I need to get this chapter out on a public internet forum. Then maybe the government criminals will leave me alone and let me finish my book. I hope so. Or they might kill me. I hope not. My computer started doing strange things after two creeps sat suspiciously close to me at some outdoor tables on Padre Island. Then I tried connecting to the internet in Port Isabel at several locations with public wifi, but it would not connect. I tried several more times on the way back to San Antonio, but could not get connected to any public wifi. After attempting to connect from outside a store in El Paso, a creepy helicopter came along, going fairly low when it flew directly over my van. That’s when I got back on the highway and drove all the way to Las Cruces and beyond. I went as far west as Tucson, and south to Bisbee.

  Then I started back toward the east. From New Mexico in the final days of 2018, I decided to drive north and go all the way to my sister’s place in Colorado. The government criminals know I am here. I am hoping to throw this document out there on the internet soon. I am not looking for anyone’s sympathy, I just want people to know that these microwave attacks are happening. Treasonous criminals are wasting billions of tax dollars to assault, harass, and torture innocent civilians in this country and around the world.  

  Feeling extremely weary of writing this story, I want it to be over. Not only has this been the most depressing chapter in my book, it has also been the most depressing chapter of my life, and I want this sad chapter to end.

[frederator-studios]

Meet Gabe Janisz, creator of “Tyler & Co.”

Nostalgia time: I met Gabe in my second week at Frederator. I knew a Gabe was coming in to pitch, and when I went out to see if he’d arrived, I encountered a guy in pajama pants in our lobby. Now, animation is a lax industry in terms of work attire, but the notion of pitching a TV show in one’s PJs was beyond the reaches of my conception; I am too uncool. So my immediate thought was that he was a random dude who’d wandered in off the street - not that he was the guy pitching, let alone already a creator with us, of the GO! Cartoon “Tyler & Co.” No doubt he heard the question mark in my greeting of “Gaaabe?,” but he didn’t let on, because as I’ve mentioned, Gabe is cooler than me. He wears PJs to job interviews and then gets the job. He’s cooler than all of us. “Tyler & Co.” well demonstrates this, but here’s an interview with him for further proof. 

Walk us down memory lane. How did you decide to make cartoons?

I guess… I don’t know if I ever decided. I headed down this road because I used to make games a lot as a kid, because that’s what my older brother and dad do.

Whaaat what’d they work on?

My dad worked on the RoboCop 2 game. My brother still works in games; he was on “Where’s My Water,” that mobile game that blew up a couple years back. The thing with me making games was, I’d spend so long on the intro cinematics and character animations, that I’d run out of steam by the time I had to think about the actual mechanics and programming. So I finally decided to focus on the stuff I actually liked, and that interests me, and that’s story and character.

Where did that interest lead you?

Well, I grew up in Buttcrack, Colorado. There weren’t any real art programs or teachers who could show me the ropes, so I had to go it alone for a long time - not the best route. But I did draw a lot of comics. It wasn’t until I started visiting colleges that someone recommended life drawing, so I took a class on it at a local community college at the end of high school. That’s when my art started improving.

What’d you do after high school?

I went to SCAD for comics and animation. At first, I was in all of these kinda useless foundation classes. So I actually went to the chair, showed him my portfolio and he was like “Well, if you think you can handle it…” and exempted me from them. The next semester was one of the hardest, maybe the hardest, of my life. I was in classes that I wasn’t prepared for, especially this one storyboarding course. Maybe the foundation classes would have prepared me, maybe not - point is, I was totally unprepared to perform at the level expected, and felt unable to make the kind of stuff I was expected to make. I was up until 8am every night. I got really close to quitting animation altogether.

Wow, that’s hectic. What changed?

After that I was in a paper animation class that dragged me out of the pit. I made some good friends who helped me improve. And my paper animation professor liked me and actually wanted me to succeed. I got more confident in my abilities. I’d always seen things in my head that I couldn’t translate onto paper, and I finally could. And I did some cool things like studying abroad in France for a semester. That was amazing because comics there are considered one of the ‘Great Arts’—they seriously respect them. Instead of flimsy paper copies, everything was hardbound and gorgeous. They have a huge range of art styles, but they all feel so unashamed, whereas stuff made in the US feels like it’s constantly apologizing to you for being a comic. I’d been applying to CalArts every year since senior year of high school - it took 3 years, 3 applications before I got in. But I was really glad to have spent time at SCAD majoring in comics, because as much as I love animation, I get so pumped about comics. It was great to do both.

Then you entered the fabled gates of CalArts - and what’d you discover?

A lot of great friends. Who also happened to be great artists I could collaborate with on projects. I was in Character Animation, and because CalArts is so picky, you’re surrounded by people you can learn from, with all different tastes and ways of doing things.

Do you seek a studio gig - or how bout - what do you most want to do with your life?

Once online a stranger told me "your art is like an awkward hug" and I've kind of tried to run with that. If I can make at least one person feel a little less lonely, then I feel like I'm doing a good thing. I’d work at a studio if it were the right project, but mostly I want to be an independent comic maker and cartoonist. As long as I’ve got stuff in the pipeline, I’ll be happy. I was hospitalized a lot as a kid (and adult) and it kinda... broke me in a lotta ways, so it’s nice that me and Frederator found each other.

How did you come to pitch to the GO! Cartoons series?

Eric (Homan, our VP Development) came to CalArts to speak and my professor introduced us. He invited me to come by Frederator and check out the place. And then when I came by he was like, “You don’t have anything to pitch?” And I was like, “No, you said I was just checking out the place.” But I plugged in my flashdrive and just looked for the first thing that was around 5 minutes I could find and showed it to him. It was my first year CalArts film about a bunch of kids making bombs. And he liked it, so we started developing it, and it actually got all the way to the stage of pitching to Sony Animation. But the Sony people definitely couldn’t get behind the bombs stuff, but they liked me I guess. So they greenlit me but not the bombs. So Eric had me go back and make something new. I’d been doing stuff with Tyler for years so I pulled him out and figured out a new idea.

Where did the idea for Tyler come from?

Well in high school, I had Crohn’s disease, so I had the right to leave class whenever. I’d just up and go wander, hang out with the janitors. And one of them loved the Muppets a lot. He hung little pictures of them all over the school and I actually never noticed them until he mentioned it. But they were everywhere. So I started watching Sesame Street and got into that aesthetic, and admired the puppeteers. I’d also had a falling out with my high school friends, which was part of why I was wandering around so much. I started devoting more time to close friends in Canada that I’d met online.

Did you meet them through gaming?

Yeah, gaming and game message boards. It was a found family. I don’t have a large family, I don’t really have that foundation to fall back on. So finding kinship online was huge for me in a time of isolation. And watching a lot of the Muppets.

Did the Muppets inspire those puppet versions of Tyler and Lil G from the title cards?

Yeah - Tyler and Lil G are actual puppets.

(At this point Gabe pulls puppet Tyler and puppet Lil G from a mysterious red duffel bag that’s been on the floor. I didn’t know what it held, but I didn’t expect puppets. Ecstatic, I try Tyler on)

Puppets are in a lot of what I do, but not everything. I’ve made YouTube videos with them too - my roommate is really good at performing with them. So the characters were designed to look like puppets.

If Tyler & co. got a full series, would the puppets be in it?

Yeah, there'd be puppet cutaways. There’s an old Super Mario Bros show - it’s a really bad show, but funny - and they had intros and outros with live action actors playing Mario and Luigi on like a trash covered set. They’d do skits. So that makes me want to cap off Tyler episodes with puppet skits.

So Tyler came first, then how did the other characters come about - like Lil G?

Lil G is a younger, innocent guy that Tyler sees a lot of himself in. He feels like he has this chance to sculpt this younger dude, and kind of save him. He doesn’t want Lil G to screw up his life like he did.

How did Tyler screw up his life?

So Tyler used to be a child star in a show like Sesame Street. But his camera operators, the crew were super abusive to him, in order to get him to perform for the camera how they wanted. Pushed him into traffic, manipulated him, did really messed up stuff. They once strapped cursed swords onto his hands while he slept, and he involuntarily butchered a bunch of people while trying to find help. He got acquitted in trial and got a restraining order against them. But now he’s just trying to pick up the pieces, and his roommates are a huge part of that. The logline has been, “Tyler, why can’t you see that if you’ve got friends like these, you’ll be fine?”

Whose house is it that they’re living in? And what’s the dynamic among these roommates?

Rex’s - he inherited it from his grandma when she passed. Rex and Moe have a shared interest in ghost hunting. There’s another roommate, Rocko, who’s a retired boxing robot. There’s Marky Mouse, he hangs out, doesn’t hurt nobody. Lil G is a nuisance to them—he’s enamored with Tyler because Tyler’s the first person he’s met from out of state. So he associates Tyler with his dream of getting out of the town.

Where does this take place?

It’s set in the River Rouge area, by Detroit, Michigan. It’s where my dad grew up and he’s told me horror stories. Once in school, the river’s surface actually caught on fire. So they could see from the school windows that the river was in flames, burning oil on water. School wasn’t even cancelled. It’s a super heavily polluted river.

Have you ever visited there?

No, thank God.

So why does Tyler WANT to be Mayor of Cerealtown? Why is that of value?

Because they’re kinda losers, and that’s the kind of thing that’s important to them. These guys don’t really have jobs. The house was bequeathed to them. Moe does some tech repair, and he and Rex do freelance ghost hunting. Tyler’s big project is repairing a car, which’ll be his and Lil G’s way to get out of town. That’d be a big thrust of the show’s plot if it got a series.

Where do they want to go?

Anywhere else.

Let’s talk about the music in this, cause it’s great. How’d it come about?

All the music was done by Bo-en, and yeah, he did an awesome job. He composes music for games a lot, which is how I found him. He has this unique, glitchy style. I emailed him out of the blue, not even expecting a response. But he got back to me and immediately sent over a test composition. That was good because he was actually excited about the project. Overall, I went with everything that he chose.

Which cartoons inspire you most?

I’m more of an anime fan, usually. I’m a big Soul Eater fan - it’s stupid in the most creative ways, like I love the moon and sun up there gnashing their teeth and laughing when there’s a heavy emotional scene happening below them. FLCL and Gurren Lagann. Masaaki Yuasa is a big guy for a lot of people right now: his shows Kemonozume, Kaiba, and Tatami Galaxy inspire me, even if they all turn into trainwrecks by the end. That happens to a lot of stuff I like. My favorite scene in animation is from Kaiba; it has a lot of quick worldbuilding and weighty animation that i really like and tried to replicate in “Tyler” a bit. But I get a lot of inspiration from outside of animation too. Games, music.

Let’s hear about those influences, from games, comics, music, everything else?

One game is “Cave Story”, it’s incredible: it was made by a Japanese dude -- all by himself! I think that the more you can do on your own, the more your original soul and vision shine through. The character designs in the “Professor Layton” games are also pretty incredible, like retro anime with a european flair. Those two games are very different, but they both tell impactful stories! 

I was all about Mike Mignola's Hellboy comics for a long time; they ended recently. I probably steal a lot of how I draw slouchy characters from him. Hellboy is probably my favorite character design ever, for a lot of reasons: the asymmetry, his big arm, the sanded down horns... just looking at him tells a story, and it's crazy rare to see a character design get that thoughtful. I like Soul Eater for a lot of the same reasons. Just about my favorite written comic is King City by Brandon Graham, which is all over the place but manages to stay very human at its core. Osamu Tezuka, Naoki Urusawa, Katsuhiro Otomo, Inio Asano, Enrique Fernandez.... I get too pumped talking about comics!!

(Moonkiller, a dope comic and to-be short film)

My favorite bands are probably Gorillaz and Passion Pit, and i think a lot about telling stories that feel like their music feels. I guess it’s mostly about hanging onto the feeling that the music gives you and drawing with that, like translating a language? I do my best work when I can already *see* a show in my head before i draw it. When I made Bombadiers, my old Frederator pitch, i was thinking of this song Beck made for a videogame. They don't like, sync up perfect, but they still ~feel~ the same to me. Beck's composing work in films like Scott Pilgrim and Nacho Libre is really great! I’ve also been into The Postal Service recently because a lot of their music sounds... backwards, almost, and it’s interesting to me. Baths is another cool guy who I almost worked with on Tyler; his music can sound very otherworldly.

On a whole other note: why did they put snakes in the attic?

They put them up there to clear out another infestation. It might have been rats, might have been gorillas… I don’t remember. But they didn’t expect the snakes to breed so fast. They put the rats or gorillas up there too. So it’s really been a series of bad decisions.

Why snakes thoo?

Well once, I caught a baby rattlesnake with a plastic bottle in the Lodge. It wasn’t until I let it go that we realized it was a rattler - and the baby ones are actually the most lethal, because they can’t control how much venom they release when they bite.

What’s the Lodge?

Oh, so at CalArts, you’re assigned a cubicle. And there are two buildings with cubicles, the Palace and the Lodge. The Palace is a lot nicer, but the Lodge is more fun, fewer restrictions. My friend Justin and I - he was the board artist on “Tyler”, and a character designer on Rick and Morty - we built a shanty town out of cardboard boxes in the Lodge. It was our cardboard fortress. And there was one student who was in charge of keeping the other students in line, and he ordered us to take it down. And as we felt that was a violation of our liberties, we started a bulletin called the Lodge Gazette, which we posted around campus to air our grievances and report important Lodge news. I still write for it, when I can.

Tell us about your friendship with Jonni Phillips, which may be Frederator’s #1 most adorable friendship story?

I met Jonni through “Rachel” and offered to carpool with her to Frederator, and we became friends. We have a lot in common! We both share a sort of fatigue over mainstream animation in the west and east, and it was helpful for us to vent about these toxic animation communities, like, realizing that we're not going crazy, haha. I make these comics about us in hell together.

She also convinced me to pitch Grandpa 2.0 to Nickelodeon, which was it’s own whole can of worms. 

(Pls click that link for the Grandpa 2.0 experience, you will not regret it)

Okay, gonna need the whole Grandpa 2.0 story please, stat. 

So Jonni DOUBLE dares me to submit it to Nick’s shorts program because "They'll make anything!!" so I pretty much have to do it. I just submit the website along with the description, "I based this pitch off my own life in which i replaced my grandpa with a robot” and turned it in. First thing in the morning I get a response from them: "When can you come in and pitch the boards???" Boards!!! There were no boards!!! So Justin and I spent the weekend cranking out these rushed but actually pretty funny storyboards for an episode of Grandpa 2.0. But I was suuuper unhealthy at the time, literally bleeding to death (42% of the blood an adult male should've had) and I straight up blacked out and missed my pitch date. We rescheduled, which is cool, but now I’ve gotta fight the 'unreliable' reputation that the first meeting got me. So I start by rifling through flash drives for 10 minutes. The files are actually in the folder "Grandpa 2.0". The last place I'd ever look!! While I'm pitching I get to a segment Justin drew at such low opacity that it’s straight up invisible on the projector screen. And I just have to describe to them whats going on. "IMAGINE if you will, a high tech display screen..." and this other part where grandpa has a guitar solo, Justin copy pasted the animation, like, an obscene amount of times, so even if I held down on the keyboard it still took minutes to chew through them. He wanted me to make the guitar noises. After the pitch was over they were like, "What’s the emotional connection between the boys and grandpa?" and im just like "I dunno.. fear??" And then way later i got an email saying that they were "blown away by how professional the pitch was..." (and I'm like um were you guys in the same room??) "...but the content just wasn't right for Nickelodeon”. That part almost makes me think they actually noticed all the 9/11 jokes and stuff... So that’s how the pitch went, and for now Grandpa 2.0 sleeps, unless I can convince Eric to swing it by Netflix or something, hahaha.

What are you working on now?

I’ve always got a lot of projects going. An animated feature idea, Token Town. And Moonkiller, a comic I’ve been working on that I want to turn into a short. Paper Desperado is a game I’m making - my friend is coding it. We’re fans of the old Paper Mario games, so we’re trying to draw from those - not copying, more like figuring out how they made everything and trying to build off of those techniques. I’m also working on a radio play called Spookwood, about a drug that turns you into a ghost. It’s tough because I’m so used to describing stuff visually, and now I have to get everything across with just words.

When it turns you into a ghost, do you stay a ghost or turn back?

No, you stay a ghost.

So the drug kills you?

Yeah, it kills you, and then you’re a ghost.

Thus concludes our interview with Gabe Janisz! Thanks for taking the time Gabe, it’s always good talking with you. Sure we’ll be working together again in no time!

- Cooper

[hikertrashprincess]

Day 78

9.9.21

I woke up and was shortly on the paved road. I walked into a little town called Montezuma and a woman stopped and asked if I needed coffee or anything. I thought that would be great and I stopped into her house and enjoyed breakfast with her and her son, who was getting ready for picture day at Kindergarten and had picked out an amazing boat tie. The breakfast was delicious. They were so kind. It was time for the kid to go to school so I asked if I could use the bathroom before leaving. When I came out there was no one in the house. I sat there pondering if it was more rude to leave without saying thank you or to just sit alone in their home. Luckily before I could decide the mom came back in and I gave her an ecstatic thank you before going back to hiking.

Almost immediately I turned up a dirt road which soon became steep and challenging. The whole day then became steep and challenging with multiple 13000 ft peaks.

At 11 I realized I had a quarter of a liter of water and 8 miles until water during the hottest part of the day. This was a big mistake. As I got more dehydrated I moved slower. I finally made it to the water source- a melting snow field- and had a late lunch.

This part of the “trail” was… interesting. It disappeared and reappeared at random. Sometimes you could see it in the distance and just wandered whatever way you wanted to over there. Sometimes it was just cairns. At one point you had to climb over a wooden fence. There were no blazes on this part of the trail.

But finally the CDT merged with the Colorado Trail. I did the CT in 2017, my first thru hike 500 miles from Denver to Durango. It was unbelievable how smooth and well maintained the trail became at that point. The last miles flew by and I set up camp for the night by Swan River.

[bites-kms]

Southwest Roadtrip - Episode 2:  Route 66

Leaving glowing Nevada to enter into the far, far west was such a contrast. We were missing the tumbleweeds rolling around but the rest was pretty much matching our Hollywood idea. Another fun fact that we were realizing while exploring these dry lands is that we were following the Colorado River water flow, that was the latent compass that push us through.

OATMAN

After a very random Instagram search, we found out about a little town called Oatman, which main feature was wild burros or donkeys, about 2 hours away from Vegas which became our first stop on our roadtrip through the Southwest. It began as a small mining gold camp in 1915, and today features a real-life Clint Eastwood movie set. I guess that due to COVID this was not happening, and we also arrived around 5pm, but apparently there are free “gunfights” comedy demonstrations happening twice a day on the streets of Oatman, once part of America’s main street, Route 66, the Chicago-to-Santa-Monica express way.

Oatman is famous for its donkeys. They were wandering the main street, sticking their heads through the rails along the wood-plank sidewalks, nudging people for treats, and otherwise just chilling under the striking sun. The animals were used inside the turn-of-the-century mines for hauling rock and ore and were also used outside the mines for hauling water and supplies. As the mines closed and people moved away, the burros were released into the surrounding hills.

The Oatman Hotel was closed too, but apparently is the place to have a beer and take a picture at the Clark Gable and Carole Lombard Honeymoon Suite, who stopped by this town after getting married in Kingman in 1939. Oatman was also the place where we faced the real, red-necked America, where the confederate flag and MAGA hats were in proud display. 

WILLIAMS

Leaving Vegas, getting a car the weekend kicking off Labour Day, and driving across unknown lands was a little bit challenging: we needed to get the grasp of the car, the route and the GPS. Even though we checked out at 11, getting a car was no joke and we started driving around 2:30, 3pm. After experiencing Oatman and taking time for appreciating the view and the road, we were aiming to reach Sedona, but it was a big stretch. Luckily, Belu was suggested to stop by Williams, the latest town added to Route 66´s original path.

Back in the days, Williams was also the gateway to the Grand Canyon via the main railroad that passes across the city. We arrived during night time, so we mostly heard it pass by, but it was incredible charming. The 4 or 5 blocks of this cute town, where restaurants, souvenir shops and gas stations live in harmony, hosting side-roads hotels for the tired traveler. 

We had dinner at the local beer brewery Historical Barrel + Bottle House, took a beautiful and fun picture with our brand new Thelma and Louise caps by the Route 66 sign to finally pass out and rest at the Travelodge by Wyndham Williams Grand Canyon. What a day - and imagine all the ones we have left ahead!

[lawrencedienerthings]

Cool Things To Do In Denver

#likeeveryone👍 ��� ❓

Colorado News

  You, like everyone else, have probably been cooped up inside for a while. But cabin fever is a real thing and can creep up on you unexpectedly. Which is exactly why getting out and about is a good idea. Don’t worry though, our list of things to see and do are social distancing approved. So you can get out there and have some fun, completely guilt free.

Here is a list of some cool things you can do in Denver right now.

Visit Indian Hot Springs

Be honest, just because you’re getting out, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re interested in exerting yourself, right? Right. We’ve got you covered with the Idaho Hot Springs, which are exactly as wonderful as they sound. Picture kicking back in natural hot springs, and just soaking in the wonderful atmosphere.

Best of all the springs are only a 30-minute drive outside of town, and can be booked for hour long sessions at a rather reasonable price. We’ll share an additional little secret; the Tommyknocker Brewery is on the way, and nothing compliments a hot spring soak like a luxury beer.

Historical Bars

Speaking of luxury beer, you probably already knew that there are 2 locations in Denver that not only offer a luxurious selection but are also steeped in rich history. At The Oxford Hotel you will find the Cruise Room, which, as the name suggests, features a truly lovely nautical theme.

Your second option is the Brown Palace and its famous Ship Tavern, which also happens to feature a unique marine theme. Though in this case the venue is littered with a stunning range of intricate model ships.

Both places are perfect to kick back in, and surf some real money games on your phone while you sip a beverage. 

Fine Food At A The Oldest Restaurant

Maybe you’d like a meal in the oldest restaurant in the entire state? The Buckhorn Exchange has been in business since 1893, which almost defies belief. But, it’s true, and the charming venue has managed to amass a collection of 575 taxidermy animals over the years.

Wondering what’s on the menu? Why, just some of the most beloved oysters in the area. Try them breaded with a horseradish dip. You won’t regret it.

Museum Of Contemporary Art

There are other, more well-known museums in Denver, but overlooking the Museum of Contemporary Art is all the more charming for being lesser known. The exhibits are extremely interesting and regularly updated, with artwork no just from Colorado, but across the entire globe.

A little secret here you might be interested in; Colorado residents get in for next to nothing.

Explore The Streets

No, we don’t mean just wondering around the streets at random. It turns out that River North Arts District and the Santa Fe Arts District have become a veritable wonderland of incredible street art. You can simply ride a bike or wander around either neighbourhood and be simply blown away by the stunning artwork on every corner. It won’t cost you a cent.

from https://ift.tt/eA8V8J https://ift.tt/3lEJPr9

[mrhenryharrell]

Cool Things To Do In Denver

  You, like everyone else, have probably been cooped up inside for a while. But cabin fever is a real thing and can creep up on you unexpectedly. Which is exactly why getting out and about is a good idea. Don’t worry though, our list of things to see and do are social distancing approved. So you can get out there and have some fun, completely guilt free.

Here is a list of some cool things you can do in Denver right now.

Visit Indian Hot Springs

Be honest, just because you’re getting out, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re interested in exerting yourself, right? Right. We’ve got you covered with the Idaho Hot Springs, which are exactly as wonderful as they sound. Picture kicking back in natural hot springs, and just soaking in the wonderful atmosphere.

Best of all the springs are only a 30-minute drive outside of town, and can be booked for hour long sessions at a rather reasonable price. We’ll share an additional little secret; the Tommyknocker Brewery is on the way, and nothing compliments a hot spring soak like a luxury beer.

Historical Bars

Speaking of luxury beer, you probably already knew that there are 2 locations in Denver that not only offer a luxurious selection but are also steeped in rich history. At The Oxford Hotel you will find the Cruise Room, which, as the name suggests, features a truly lovely nautical theme.

Your second option is the Brown Palace and its famous Ship Tavern, which also happens to feature a unique marine theme. Though in this case the venue is littered with a stunning range of intricate model ships.

Both places are perfect to kick back in, and surf some real money games on your phone while you sip a beverage. 

Fine Food At A The Oldest Restaurant

Maybe you’d like a meal in the oldest restaurant in the entire state? The Buckhorn Exchange has been in business since 1893, which almost defies belief. But, it’s true, and the charming venue has managed to amass a collection of 575 taxidermy animals over the years.

Wondering what’s on the menu? Why, just some of the most beloved oysters in the area. Try them breaded with a horseradish dip. You won’t regret it.

Museum Of Contemporary Art

There are other, more well-known museums in Denver, but overlooking the Museum of Contemporary Art is all the more charming for being lesser known. The exhibits are extremely interesting and regularly updated, with artwork no just from Colorado, but across the entire globe.

A little secret here you might be interested in; Colorado residents get in for next to nothing.

Explore The Streets

No, we don’t mean just wondering around the streets at random. It turns out that River North Arts District and the Santa Fe Arts District have become a veritable wonderland of incredible street art. You can simply ride a bike or wander around either neighbourhood and be simply blown away by the stunning artwork on every corner. It won’t cost you a cent.

from North Denver News https://northdenvernews.com/cool-things-to-do-in-denver/

[frankmwilliams25]

Cool Things To Do In Denver

  You, like everyone else, have probably been cooped up inside for a while. But cabin fever is a real thing and can creep up on you unexpectedly. Which is exactly why getting out and about is a good idea. Don’t worry though, our list of things to see and do are social distancing approved. So you can get out there and have some fun, completely guilt free.

Here is a list of some cool things you can do in Denver right now.

Visit Indian Hot Springs

Be honest, just because you’re getting out, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re interested in exerting yourself, right? Right. We’ve got you covered with the Idaho Hot Springs, which are exactly as wonderful as they sound. Picture kicking back in natural hot springs, and just soaking in the wonderful atmosphere.

Best of all the springs are only a 30-minute drive outside of town, and can be booked for hour long sessions at a rather reasonable price. We’ll share an additional little secret; the Tommyknocker Brewery is on the way, and nothing compliments a hot spring soak like a luxury beer.

Historical Bars

Speaking of luxury beer, you probably already knew that there are 2 locations in Denver that not only offer a luxurious selection but are also steeped in rich history. At The Oxford Hotel you will find the Cruise Room, which, as the name suggests, features a truly lovely nautical theme.

Your second option is the Brown Palace and its famous Ship Tavern, which also happens to feature a unique marine theme. Though in this case the venue is littered with a stunning range of intricate model ships.

Both places are perfect to kick back in, and surf some real money games on your phone while you sip a beverage. 

Fine Food At A The Oldest Restaurant

Maybe you’d like a meal in the oldest restaurant in the entire state? The Buckhorn Exchange has been in business since 1893, which almost defies belief. But, it’s true, and the charming venue has managed to amass a collection of 575 taxidermy animals over the years.

Wondering what’s on the menu? Why, just some of the most beloved oysters in the area. Try them breaded with a horseradish dip. You won’t regret it.

Museum Of Contemporary Art

There are other, more well-known museums in Denver, but overlooking the Museum of Contemporary Art is all the more charming for being lesser known. The exhibits are extremely interesting and regularly updated, with artwork no just from Colorado, but across the entire globe.

A little secret here you might be interested in; Colorado residents get in for next to nothing.

Explore The Streets

No, we don’t mean just wondering around the streets at random. It turns out that River North Arts District and the Santa Fe Arts District have become a veritable wonderland of incredible street art. You can simply ride a bike or wander around either neighbourhood and be simply blown away by the stunning artwork on every corner. It won’t cost you a cent.

Read More

[artstarstv]

Hiromitsu Kuroo Revives The Art Of Origami, One Fold At A Time

Many of us stuck at home are glued to the screen. For those of us compelled to get away from our glowing laptops, tablets and televisions, there is always offline exercises, even reviving the art of puzzles—as well as origami.

With crafting on the rise, there are zoom courses devoted to life drawing, YouTube how-to’s on origami bookmarks, and even origami umbrellas for DIY quarantini cocktails for at-home drinking, not to mention no-sew origami masks made from unused vacuum bags or even Kirigami, a kind of origami gaining popularity on YouTube.

The art of origami became popular in Japan in 17th century, with the rise of the paper crane. It became widely recognized throughout the 20th century, with how-to’s and the distribution of patterned origami paper throughout the world.

One artist using origami as a reference point for is art is Hiromitsu Kuroo, a Japanese artist based in New York City. His artwork, which was recently part of a group exhibition at the SAGG gallery in New Berlin, New York, uses collaged pieces of canvas, which are folded and overlaid to create almost three dimensional paintings. He also has a series of folded works on paper, where he has used only red, black and white acrylic paint.

The Brooklyn-based artist bridges his experiences of living in New York and Japan with his abstract works, which fuse together modern art, origami simplicity and minimalism. Having exhibited in New York, Tokyo, Fukushima and beyond, what makes his artwork different is how he uses paint and folding techniques to create artwork that is both timely and timeless.

Kuroo spoke from his New York studio about growing up in Yokohama, how he’s keeping busy under quarantine and the beauty of simplicity.

What does Origami represent in Japanese culture, and how do you apply it to your painting? It's such a different approach.

Hiromitsu Kuroo: I think it’s a characteristic of Japanese culture, and origami is the beauty of limited expression. Origami is basically made from a piece of square paper, while the Haiku (a Japanese poem) is made from the rhythm of 575. Meanwhile, Bonsai is an expression of a flowerpot. All these beauties are expressed in a limited size, line and space.

Why is the beauty of limited expression an important element of your artwork?

Folding is an expression. It’s difficult to express in a round shape or curve because it is a straight line. To make up for it, I need to think carefully about design, sketch, calculate size, make many prototypes, and so forth. The concept of my work is not how to make a beautiful perfect circle or complicated shape. In a restricted situation, I really treasure how to show the process and traces in the canvas of my work.

What do the different folding patterns represent to you?

I am very attracted to the repetitive design of the same form. It might be because there were several scarf dyeing factories near my birthplace, I grew up watching many beautiful repeating patterns since I was a child.

The idea of the current work is influenced from here. In addition, the repeating shapes and colors in my ideas can be obtained from everyday life such as nature, scenery in the city, conversation with people, reading, listening to music.

From repetitive squares to circular patterns, it’s almost a meditation?

I put my ideas into a visible form while making origami. I Keep the shape as simple as possible. There are patterns that neatly aligned, random, or perspective among the repeated patterns. I select the best folding pattern from that.

You've been called a collage painter, what does this philosophy mean to you?

I consider myself as a pure painter. Rarely, am I called a mixed media artist, but I don't like being called that because I put the canvas on the canvas, and the only material I use is the canvas, the wooden frame, and I use paint, so I'm creating with the same materials as a painter.

How do you bridge two different worlds, coming from Japan but living in New York?

I want to tell young Japanese artists my experience in New York and spread the good habits of New York artists. What I feel as an artist in New York is that artists work together and help each other, it’s also important to value people’s meeting and proactively create and present my works as openly as possible. Artists working in the same studio building exchange information with each other, such as friends we met at the residence. We cooperate open an open studio and invite customers while we work.

How has growing up in Yokohama influenced you as an artist?

I grew up in Kaminagaya in the southern part of Yokohama city. There was Ooka River near this town, many dyeing factories made scarves using the water from the river. There are no such factories today, but I used to visit dyeing factories and friends’ houses selling scarves when I was a kid. I had learned the fun of using colors from the bright colors of scarves I used to see.

You were awarded the Pollock-Krasner Foundation Grant in both 2019 and 2010, what influence do modern artists have on you?

I visited at New York when I was a college student. At that time, I was impressed by the size and boldness of Jackson Pollock’s pictures. I make works such as he did. I love Pollock’s earlier works than the famous drip paintings. I sympathize how he built his own style while struggling with an influence of Pablo Picasso and Joan Miro. I also visited his old studios. I became a big fan because knowing his life was in a small house compared to the big artworks, it was great walking on the floor where he once energetically painted.

How has the pandemic changed your view on life?

I feel it’s very inconvenient to make artwork, as well as the day to day. I soon ran out of canvas and paint. Even if I want to buy art materials, the art supply store has been closed for over a month and I cannot buy them by online because of no prospect of receiving items. But I have a lot of time fortunately, I have been making works with a different approach.

What kind of artwork have you been making?

Now I started a new project called Bleach Painting. The concept is that we can easily make it anywhere, and it is a work that is made only with bleach, using as little paint as possible. I got this idea from native American mural. When I traveled to Utah, Colorado, five years ago, I saw many murals. Native Americans at the time were hiding from the strong sunlight in the daytime, as well as the wildlife that came at night, while painting on narrow valleys and rocky walls. I think the current lockdown resembles their lifestyle. I’m having a good time creating artworks with this primitive approach.

[breakfromwork]

October 22-31, Colorado

October 22nd we joined our friends Steve and Nancee for a walk up Waterton Canyon in the afternoon.

The day was perfect, with many fly fishermen in the South Platte River and the canyon walls lit up.

We all enjoyed some great beer and food at the Breckenridge Brewery on South Sante Fe Drive after the walk.

October 23rd I sanded and textured the kitchen walls with a rented texture gun.

Here I am, deep in concentration, so I might properly splat random, small blobs of slightly thinned drywall mud. Yet one more job I prefer not to have to do to make a living;-)

October 24th I ran some errands while Gae went to play with Jil. They enjoyed a visit with Jil’s son, Brandon, over lunch.

Here’s a great picture of Jil and Brandon waiting for pizza.

October 25th Gae and I worked to replace the fenceposts along the south side of the back yard. I was able to pull 2 of 3 post remnants after only digging down around a foot. The 3rd broke apart as I went and I ended up digging down 2 1/2 feet to get the last bits out. 

Digging with small tools around the original cement columns.

And down some more.

The last is finally pulled.

I ended up having to run and fetch an additional 60 lb. bag of cement to finish the last pour, and although poor planning caused it, I couldn’t have used a better timed break.

Here’s the results, cement drying, and me recuperating for the following 3 days!

October 26th and 27th Gae painted the kitchen wall and I caulked the backsplash in to place to finish the repair.

October 28th was apparently feast day, as we enjoyed a huge buttermilk pancake breakfast with Kipp and Deb, followed by a beautiful lunch prepared by Churrie Pardee, and finished with home-made pasta with meatballs and sausage.

I remembered to catch a picture of Emily, Joe and Churrie after lunch. We had a wonderful visit with the Pardee’s.

Here’s Deb and Kipp working the egg/oil mix into the flour prior to rolling and cutting our noodles for dinner.

October 29th Gae went to church while I failed to find a used pair of XC skis with waxless bottoms, 3-pin bindings and metal edges. We hung out close to home through the evening.

October 30th we headed for Beaver Creek, Colorado to enjoy mountain resort living with Louie and Linda Gonzales.

The hot tub after dinner soaked the remaining energy from all of us.

October 31st Louie and I took advantage of the gym facilities at the resort in the morning, while Gae and Linda walked more of the resort. 

Here’s the view from the balcony where we are staying... Aspen covered hills surrounding the ski resort just behind us.

I caught Louie at the gym on the treadmill, on my way to get some workout clothes and shoes from the van.

After the workout, Linda and Louie made some breakfast while Gae provided the entertainment.

We took a walk after breakfast at the river walk along the Eagle River in Edwards... another brisk but beautiful day to be outside.

We stopped briefly on the bridge to enjoy the view when Linda asked for a picture with Gae and Louie... what a pair!

In the afternoon, Louie napped, hoping to diminish the altitude affects while Gae and Linda checked out Breckenridge. I updated this blog and took a walk.

The square holding the ice rink sports many statues... here’s Abe Lincoln and his Great Dane, lounging in the sun.

The hills of Aspen lit up in the sun.