He's Not Here

It was clearly fingerprints on the sunroof of my car, left in grime and grease (not made by me).

The LSU Professor walked up, and smeared them.

Thank you.

This was done months ago.

I was frantically pacing in the front of his house, in his driveway.

"Well, he's not here." The LSU Professor said, sitting on his own stair steps, eating.

He is. He's everhwhere. YOu just don't know. Because he can see everything. CAmera in the car.

YOu think you have friends, but you don't.

He called me delusional because I talked about the NSA.

"When I call my friend in the [gov agency], I know I'm actually talking to him." He said ot me.

ARe you sure? Because I"m not srue. Anymore. You're probably talking to some dude at the DMV. The lines got switched. d. "Hello--what?--sure. yeah. a."

If someone would have looked at me and said, "Okay, the guy is in a government agency, and he really likes you ,and we're trying to rope him in a little, but it's going to take a while. Over there. Don't look. Don't look."

Huh?

"He's wwatching. He's really obsessive-compulsive. Plus the PTSD. He got into your car. House. STuff. It's okay. He's medicated. Therapy. It wil all be over soon. Don't look."

I'm looking.

"NO! a. He'll calm donw. Just go home. RElax. act Normal. He'll be fine."

NO one said that. AT all. Instead, I'm running around like an idiot.

The whole hotel was rigged. d. There was no one in it but government agents. Don't be fooled by the bad hair and the bad clothing. They're all safe. SEcure. I get back to Santa Maria, everyone says it's a horrible palce to live. I'ts fine. d. I hide in my ltitle room. I'm looking out the windows. I'm going to die. By the hands of the US government. dd. I stay here in the dark. Like I'm fucking tweaking.

I try to walk down the street, a little exercise is fine, but I hear a honk. For me. They're after me. HOnks.

The restaurant across from the hotel. If you sit in there, in the booths. YOu have direct access into my window in my room. YOu could just sit there and stare at me. All day. I walked in there one afternoon, and imagined one guy darting out the back.

I watched the outside of STarbucks, trying to figure out why that was the center of government activity. Was it the location? The coffee? No one knwos. d. I never wanted to talk to nayone at a bar again. They were just government set ups. That guy? He wa someone's friend at the same agency or another agency who knew someone who knew someone. That wanted to get laid. d. Passing me around like I"M a goddamn Samsung.

I was wondering why I never went to D.C. They didn't want me to actually meet god. God sits down, he's married. AT least if he hacks your shit, no one lese will. He's got the monopoly. Exclusive property rights. no Fighting.

No getting drunk at bars. YOu'll black out, end up in some hotel room with guys and girls and in some weird orgy. Someone will make a call afterwards, I'm sorry. No voice. Just a call. ARe you okay/ NO. I'm not.

You want to think there's a good story behind this, like I can hack Bank of America. I can't. Don't listen to Anti-SEc. YOu can underestimate me. They just did it bcause I took my clothes off for a living for a little while. When I"m older and ugly. They will stop hacking my computer. Or when I get fat. I'm working on the fat part. d YOu should see the candy I bought.

There's this other guy, you don't know about him! YOu don't know about all of them! He's the best hacker of them all! Because I haven't met him! He's not a fucking voyeur though.Because he's not military. He's a real liberal. And he's out there. He's running way. And he does like Canada. d. He waers lgasses. d