In April of this year I traveled to Northern California after several years away. I stayed first in downtown Oakland at the Sutter Hotel. It’s a great place for visitors to the city to move in affordably as they acclimate to the Bay Area. It’s also got a very deep soul.
The steel framed brick building is eight stories tall with a large basement too. I stayed on the seventh floor first where I had a view of the newer apartments down the street renting for $3800+\ month.
After a few weeks it all changed. Zipping cars every night until 2am. The transients and locals hanging out of doorways all of a sudden changed. Parking attendants changed. Lunch customers changed. The cashier at the shop across the street gained a cast on his wrist. At night it was really different though. Ghosts. Many of them. Dense enough to see in daylight and as tall as a human adult. They were accompanied by glowing caneret singers ala Beetlejuice on the side of the Dellums Federal Building. In the wind at night they sang songs about Puerto Rico and I could hear my family from Texas… but no KELLY YVONNE ZUNIGA.
It got hectic. Always the optimist I persisted. It grew in intensity. Weeks past. After applying for work I took a following week in Sacramento. As luck would have it it was a full moon. I was in room 27 at Great Value Inn. Looking down over the empire of dirt in the lot below. It shined like obsidian.
I saw two people I recognized arrive in separate vehicles. I looked twice. Couldn’t be. Received some visitors from abroad and afar in my room as spirits too. More parties than an election. Even the white vote was represented!
The following day out in the lot… or maybe the next… I saw Kelly. Driving a taupe ugly SUV across the median . I screamed her name from 50yards or so. It must have come over the radio. She rolled her head at me and our eyes locked. Her head in her hand. Blank expression turning down. Eyes the didn’t ask for help as much as mercy. When the light changed she took off as if in a caravan. No way to catch up.
I never saw her again that day but the trees sang her name for miles with my songs rhythm. The fuckers kidnapped her again. BABYLON TRAFFICKING.
In hindsight I wish I had found the hotel by luck as I did in future searches. At that time I didn’t equate my reservations with the means for her traffickers to arrive a few minutes prior or more in order to claim they were leading the Grace that fell. As with every place I stayed since then Grace was always falling. Sometimes like a bathtub in my room. Always friendly. Always chased by people with smiles for the wonder as well as the clingers on arriving to supply a grit to the grace. And the sex obsessed perhaps.
The race cars did not follow to Sacramento.
Back in Oakland soon after it was more of the same. And half of the downtown from the freeway south to 16th steeet north to Broadway east to West Oakland was gone – the people. In the nations top tourist area half the population of 1% wage earners went missing. There were parking spaces everywhere. For over a month.
WHERE DID THEY GO?
i saw Kelly one day out my windows like clockwork I walked to look out and there she was. I ran at full pace down one flight of stairs right across the hall and out the hotel door and ran further down the street. No green pullover. The fucking assholes probably pulled her off the road knowing she almost had a CONVERSATION with her love.
The spirits all said it was Scientology. I saw tom cruise in a white car one day. And many other celebrities. But not Kelly again except for glimpses and stories on the wind of her rapes, beatings, swinger gang bang decimations, and always saying DAVID was fucking her again. Always DAVOD. Fuck David.
Rhe truth is my signs and my book and my mentors all indicate I am the last clarification of a line of saints in walk. She’s meant to be given the chance to go along for this. Immediately. It’s worth st least $50million. The spirits said for my contriburion to the Struggle-free Life on Earth I would be the worlds first Trillionaire.
All I ever got was fucked. Someone tapes and terrorizes vulnerable women like Kelly to keep them broke for their games. The GAME is a cover story to fuck up the saint walk. It’s ramifications are big for this nation. Every saint is a role model of their own perspective on a joy of life. We lack them greatly in America. The shitbags at the top of Scientology that run the bullshit with cash to ruin Oakland as well as five police chiefs not on duty due to cyclical firing and the end of the tribune all contributed to anarchy downtown from people while spirits smiled and waiting patiently.
Kelly and I are the Jesus and Mary of this time in history. Not plain and preaching. Plain and friendly and on time. They rape her and kill people who know the truth. They ruin by hopeless and keep her away so my writing suffers 57 months now. The shitbags used Christopher man minis house for conditioning (google the name) and now monied men hold her ass away. Still waiting not smiling and GO FUCK YOURSELF. HANDLE YOUR UHLY SHIT SMELLING MILLIONAIRES AMERICA. They traffic magic and kill creative thought in dire straits. My thoughts could end struggle on earth. KILL HER HANDLERS. PLEASE.