Tuesday, June 2, 2015

last train to San Fernando part 3 2011

Valerie Prentis  mixes herself a drink,
her place is huge.the room is huge,she is slender and pretty and clean.
.she moves around alot ,she has grace  and poise,..and all that descriptive shit you read in novels
the are flowers around and large pieces of art everywhere,on the floor ,on the walls)
i am in Valerie's big  shiny kitchen,.
like it's either more intimate there ..or she doesn't want me to get my poverty somehow on her couch or something
.she is looking at her laptop shaking her head"oh dear" she says .I assumed she was looking at my art. cause that's why I was called there.
when some wealthy woman from a movie studio calls you ..
you feel some kind of calling..
it's absurd to be impressed with such things.
damn is all you're thinking...all you want is some wheel to start moving...to "make you something"
and I'm like standing there wondering at the same thing...how in the old days before tv and movies and magazines and stuff if people were taught that some ...wheel of fortune ,fame, appearances ...
were needed to feel

felt up in some way..

well she's looking at the lap top and I assume she's looking at this nasty little web site I had given up on keeping up with years ago...and I begin to say so...when I notice she's not looking at any art online but words....from this little blog I started  back than..
"this writing of yours really must stop.." she says
"how can we do our job with this going on and on ?"Valerie  pauses and looks at me seriously,but smiles,"and on"
                                               she's a friend one of 'them"I realize
and -to "them" I am "one of THEM" as well

this had all began years ago.
with me and them
and than I was told..
ooooh nooo
it began before you were born Dumbo..
you're mother was a rrrrreal piece..
I had grown up in foster homes and what are considered group homes..
and treated very much like a Piece as well..
if you know what I mean....and Christ I hope you don't.reader-

I had been warned (my apartment broken into,drugged,arrested under false charges)
that it not a "good idea' for me to write about my unfortunate "run ins" with the establishment
nor about CUE-ING and HOLLYWOOD REFERENTIALS in tv and movies
and how I was raised to respond to such-

so how could I not?


 I moved to Hollywood again
years after what crazy stuff a bunch of "damn if I know who these people thought they were"
said ..
the reason my boyfriend at the time brought me to L.A. was so I could basically
suck dick
and do lots of drugs ..and just be kept..

I'd been kept and had to suck dick since I was a teenager to survive
and had moved to L.A. to start over...
and get off drugs....and  cause I was like in love with this dude..
who it turns out ...just was some guy ...
essentially bringing across state lines and shit..

well ... this love interest ran off...
and I ran about as far away as I could get from this little circle of guys who ..stuch a gun in my mouth and said ...
who do you think you are...loser ..you ain't even that hot..
and we can make you a lot less hot than you think you are you arrogant prick with one phone call....and a baseball bat across your fuckin nose


.... and had begun writing about the LAPD and Monarch programming  and some odd deals the LAPD seemed to have with a "church" I had once belonged to

"there are things in the world .there are things in the world.",she quickly laments,she laments quickly because it is clear to me this woman has never lamented about anything in her life.
She had invited me there to discuss buying some of my art.
I see the artwork on her walls...and quickly realize that whatever she might buy from me would be stored in some basement somewhere.

She is looking both at some slides I brought along not realizing this meeting seemed to be more about what I had written online that what I had painted on any canvas
Christ only knows I need money..my stipend for what art I was supposed to be doing in was to come to an abrupt end.
as the Gallery that I assumed had enough of a backlog of my art ...didn't need a constant flow of new work
to keep the stipend going
as I had told the Gallery I moved back to LA to investigate a friend of mine's suicide
who also belonged to the "church "I had in the months leading to his suicide had written me very,very strange letters(he refused to use the internet or e-mail) about Neuronautic's procuring a bid from the **** to test biotech on those who
were member's of what I refer to as "Neuronautics"
and that once this "tech" was introduced into one's blood stream
one's mind was open to what he called a brain computer interface
I had no idea what the fuck a Brain Computer Interface was.. at the time
and as wuss as it might sound was NOW thanks to him too afraid to look "Brain Interface or nano bio tech" online
I just naturally assumed my friend had gone off the deep end..
and although I wrote him I would come out to LA to help him..with whatever crisis he seemed to be going through
all I hoped was he not write back saying ..."yes do come"

In fact no letter ever came bacl.
Just a phone call 3 weeks after recieveing the letter from my high school friend's mother saying her son had killed himself by hanging himself.

  Valerie Prentis  snapped her laptop closed, not longer feigning interest in my art and said "my husband was taken away by such things..such things as writing things he had no business writing"

 "taken away?"i asked
"don't ask, as they say"she said
"and for christs sake don't tell."
"Megan ",Valerie  said "a close friend of mine had an experience with aliens.have you ever considered that this incident you describe was of that persuasion "she looks at me nodding,like i should nod back and keep nodding,which I do,she smiles",well these aliens wrecked havoc on poor megan,.until she had no idea what side was what..She had some brief encounter on a cruise somewhere off the gulf of mexico,if you ask me it was consensual..her communion...her communion  with the Entities ...well,she couldnt stop talking about it.illuminati this and that alien this alien that..until nobody wanted to know her.At first the stories were amusing and often she literally i mean literally floated 3 feet off the floor when recounting her travails,, and than it was just 'jesus christ dont invite megan to the labor day party or we'll have to hear about THAT again.levitation or no levitation.know what i mean.."
"what the fuck is the crazy bitch talking about"was all I could think,now desperate to get out of their.

 she looked at me .and just stopped.just plain stopped her airs,her act,her mannerisms.she looked like she might shake me but instead her voice got warmer but also stronger ,her eye contact didnt waiver ..
"you must somehow move on...it isnt healthy,and to be honest its dangerous.one doesnt fuck with the unknown.what we must work on is the here and now.art.the subject now is art."
"i cant do it,"" i say
"you cant do it the same way youve done it.i say we throw money at the situation.real money.no more of this fly by your pants nonsense.i see a big wide opened room white and bright.a large living space where ever you might like to be ,a city,in the country,,enough money for you to live like a human being.Inside the real world not cut off from it.maybe than you won't return" to that "so much..and just keep it where it should be.."she relaxs her stance and her light smile returns
"how much money do you want for four of  "those things" ?"she says flicking her hand  at the lap top,I noticed a look on her face that certainly indicated what she thought "about those things"on the webpage.
"I'll let you think about which of "those things" you might like"i say.
"Listen up ," Valerie said,"Don't let me think too long .Not about THIS"

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