Entry 14 of 25 passages from: “Imitating Snowflakes 107.5”

snow

Can you hear me? Can you Hear me now? Radio M.R. Tist broadcasting live from his living room everyone tune to the right frequency. The show is about to begin.

During the height of the investigation the radio was a big part of mutual communication. Not only for the watchful eyes of the law but also for me as it became apparent that the new found observer’s of my life seemed to like to play with the radio while they were trying to mess up my mind. I am pretty sure they wanted me to break down emotionally, have a psychotic episode so they could lock me up. Get me to crack and break a serious law so they could snatch me up. Entrapment their entire case. Wasn’t happening but they did fuck with my head covertly.

So I began to do nightly radio shows as part of my performance art series. Crazy right? Well the authorities seemed to like to play with my radio, so I began to play too. They would randomly turn my radio off while I was listening to it. This was a normally working radio with no issues, but this happened more than once, non-electrical issue.The radio always did work fine and continued to work fine later. It remained in normal working condition. However during this time it was apparently used as a two-way means of communication. Funny right, very weird. However I went with it like a true psycho performing to the radio nightly.

Could anyone hear me I don’t know? But know the Feds could. Seems a little schizophrenic I know but it happened. I realized it appeared crazy but I never thought the radio was communicating with me at any point in my life before or after this time period. I had an audience and I exploited it. Risky yes but as I said before you come to an artists studio or home expect a show.

Jamin to the radio and listening to blues CDs I would perform regularly. I never really stopped performing even when driving my vehicle. I always had an audience so white noise or not the performances continued.

In my fast car I sped through life but my driving slowed by law enforcement. My life accelerated by undo and unnecessary pressure. The intense breathing down ones neck does take its toll. This was all definetly taking a toll on me physically and mentally. I was becoming exhausted by the constant surveillance and the fact that I could not stop myself from fighting back in my own peaceful way.

Gunslingers and F.B.I. stick a needle in my eye.

Pop you in the end.

One eye wired shut.

Fuck you and all that junk.

Will you burst my bubble again?

Will you give it to me in the end?

Turn the other cheek again. white noise coming in.

Is it a fairy tale that will never end?

Every time I make a move am waiting for a lasso to rope the dope cowboy.

Like a junkie, a flunky you try to rope him in.

Is it the beginning or the end?

Well I am not dead just hushed and mushed by Big Brother again.

Everything is temporary like a snowflake on the Forth of July.

We all get it in the end.

White noise,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, can you hear me,,,,,,,,, can you hear me,

again and again?????????

White Noise……………………………………………………………………….

 

 

 

 

 

 

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