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 red glowing caberet 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’s voices from Texas… but no Kelly.

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 through the peephole.

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! My computer was hacked. Typical means of communication were useless. Everything felt like a con.

The following day out in the lot… or maybe the next… I saw Kelly at a stoplight in a column of cars. Driving a taupe, ugly SUV that did not reflect the colorful mind inside. I screamed her name from 50 yards or so – in my head. It must have come over the radio. She rolled her head toward me and our eyes locked. Her head resting in her hand. Blank expression turning down. Eyes that didn’t ask for help as much as mercy from the weight of whatever reason brought her to Sacramento from her home in Las Vegas. 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. They seemingly kidnapped her again. Babylon Trafficking.

In hindsight, I wish I had found the hotel by luck as I did in future searches. At the time I didn’t equate my reservations (on a hacked computer) 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 cling-ons arriving to supply a grit to the grace. And the Hollywood-obsessed perhaps. The blue-jeaned rod an’ berries on a star trek.

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 street 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.


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 A-holes probably pulled her off the sidewalk 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 along with many other celebrities. I didn’t see Kelly again except for glimpses and stories on the wind of her rapes, beatings, swinger gang bang decimation, and always saying David was leading them again. Always David. Fuck David.

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 $50 million. The spirits said for my contribution to the Struggle-free Life on Earth I would be the world’s first Trillionaire! Even better.

All I ever got was nothing. Someone tapes and terrorizes vulnerable women like Kelly to keep them broke for their games. The Game is a cover story to sabotage the saint walk. It’s not about temptation anymore. 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 manipulators at the top of the sabotage 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 Oakland 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 manipulate her and kill people who know the truth – often by context-manipulated suicide. They ruin by hopelessness and have kept her away so that my writing has suffered 57 months now. They used her landlord’s house for conditioning (google the name) and now monied men hold her ass away. Still waiting. Not smiling. They traffic magic and kill creative thought in dire straits. My thoughts could end struggle on earth. They are the true terrorism in our nation – quite literally. Within days of noticing the absence of the cars at 2AM came three simultaneous police shooting dramas in the middle North, middle South and East sides of the United States. No national news reports from the West Coast at all.


Social Architecture Philosopher, Phenomenologist, Author || || ||