Caitlin Rodriguez (the princess),
For many years in this project I have written to you, attempted to purpose to you, through every possible form of a nightmare as I tried to figure my way to reality. The base of the project is my medication which I require to meditate to get people digitally out of me (who have been on the other end of the project, viewing my thoughts and a portion of my eye since 2007).
There are many levels of the people on the other end, their literal voices are the top level which had communicated to me and planned a way to make a tv show in 2007. The project requires confidence internally which requires me the ability to exit/navigate my internal mind and be willing to face my reality/formulate thoughts, particaularialy internal personal thoughts which exist as energy and create psychological barriers within my mind. This is based particularly on my republicanism and my ability to continue the flow of my medication.
In 2007 I had joined NYC young republicans, James Hughes had advanced my thoughts 24/7 within my dorm room (inverting them as well)
Over a bong I decided to make one of three thesis films little nemo (a perfect Harry Potter if I used real talismans, ancient, esoteric, literal manol of the craft. I get too into this and purchase every possible ancient talisman off the net. James is watching, I invent my own form of universalism with my childhood experiences in chaos magick, believing I'm an angel/demon -> which evolves to every human having a white/black plane and pamphlets from AMORC which I join that year, in hopes that the illuminati will make me rich). My roommates read my diary/break into my dorm room/film me/follow me to my apt in 2007 in hells kitchen.
This is how the project I haves named Little Nemo comes to be. Whoever speaks to me on the other end becomes frustrated around April 2007 and fries my mind to make me easier to deal with.
This leads to an interaction with the project I label Little Nemo (c.lambton)
The project has many levels, things that are not real for others become real for me via segmenting my mind, access to my mental facilities thought on the other end.
I am to be able to poof into levels/mind states for my art, I fuck this up, I get stuck in a psychological hell level, I get stuck in a Bridgeport, Connecticut level that was to be a joke (where I am tormented with the concept of creating my manhattan project in bridgeport, Connecticut.)
I get trapped with the worst possible people in this time. I purposely create morphed fake levels of reality and forget how to get out/that I did this. Others take segments of my personality, which collapses in a level where my memories are erased if I don't finish art projects (little 7th gradeish art books quick enough)
"I'm scanning this part of your soul/this part-> you, my first girlfriend, everything is labeled and erased by the summer -> I leave myself a note before my mind/personality collapses to just make the artwork and they'll let me go. I become vulnerable but have my student loan $.
I complete my thesis year (despite original wishes of the project, where I refuse to leave to leave SVALBARD w/out my thesis) all of this is the base year of the project, it is 2007 everything is explained to me with a mass payout.
I allowed my memories to be erased, my "soul" for the million or so I was paid daily. Because of this I become trapped until instinct kicks in at later portions of the project.
This is essentially the base explanation of the project.
I allow people into my apartment to hypnotize me who claim to be the Arcade Fire. At one point I believe they had implanted me when I woke up in a panic, I could allow see shadows and heard who I believed to be Sarah Kalagnovos from my school say "is he okay?" and a male voice say coldly "he'll be fine" I hadn't awoken like this since Layla Celkupa whispered into me when I left my dorm room open the year before, I live echoed in these moments the real ones, trapped in my memory as clues of my existence when the truth was next door or allowed through my apartment or associated to Sean Connell, a former roommate or Brock Dave's who was hidden in the apartment below me. This is when the project directly acknowledged me, placed perceptions directly into me (of being the evil gentrifying element of hells kitchen, of living suddenly in the Fairfield side of town. This is when the project has Nicole Mcaleer from childhood appear "have a good day Christopher Mastronardi") she says to me one morning outside the home depot. James Hughes changes my perception from beneath me. His machine which I escaped for one day in Hells Kitchen when I first move in [24/7 a machine that reads my thoughts, I go into withdrawal from this when I escape for one day, I see the real city, feel real sleep on an air blown mattress before my green walls are repainted in hells kitchen, this machine inverts my thoughts, breaks down my ego 24/7, nightly he reads my thoughts learns of my personal religion and AMORC, my mind tells myself 'I barely make it to hells kitchen. This is before the ego breaking is completed this is before my mind is segmented into my first two novel characters in strawberry fields after I move to hella kitchen, I feel my mind snap in half and open. Time doesn't really matter after this point once I don't exist and my mind is taken apart. On the dreamscape, in my sleep, he promises me if I continue with the project I'll date Chloe Sevigny.
This is before names that have nothing to do with me are introduced into my reality like Harvey Weinstein from 10019's tv show.
This is a bit of skipping around but I'm trying to cover the entirety of the project when it made sense, when it seemed humane and my beliefs in the people on the other end lead me to the conclusion that I'd be paid at the end of being 23: my golden birthday which began @SVA to hells kitchen, which I thought James wished to document as I'd always believed this year would decide the rest of your life, a person who lived and believed by the number 23 I awaited this year. My film portfolio, introduction series of novels on Fairfield, Connecticut/three thesis films, I'd set my personal film cage instead of using the schools with all prosumer equipment. I'd awaited this year.
(I told myself if they stop me now I'll look like a fool, no portfolio, no admittance to NYU Tisch MFA which I'd decided after the RD in the George Washington asked me if I was on acid one 2006 summer: I still live in this summer. Where I join AMORC that I have endlessly regretted, for asking these people to help me get $ for straying from the film festival circuit, for the dream of my grandfather and biological father I think these people sent me. Where he protects me and my Celtic cross is taken off. This leads to Ketu, the symbol of my soul and replacement that I believe AMORC sent me, I still see the security guard looming over 90 degree parliament light dorm room and this little elvish dwarf man who lives in the gdubs through NYC's grandfathering laws. The summer I am taken from my lush and beauty home of the new residence, Anna gripe trot still lives in the east village which I escape to for air conditioning. I tell Liza we will marry, an open marriage planned, prepared, all jealousy non existent, a skill nisha taught me in advice around her producer boyfriend who did "the killers" album.
I am 22, I read Sane Society in the bathroom of the gdubs, I have a system to always stay in the dorms. I read the New Yorker on "future land" I lie to amorc on my spiritual experiences to get in, not wanting these people to know about my childhood belief in exodus (an angel/demon soul) in meditations I had, my belief I made it snow, I tell them all I know is Edgar Cayce the sleeping prophet. I am a bachelor of fine arts student, the future lies ahead of me, I receive my G5 with my 23 inch flat screen. I complete "the end of Fairfield dreams and enter the New York International Film Festival. Everything is set, I am happy, able to render and ready to return to the new residence. Life finally matters, my medication is my ability my strength and advantage over the film industry. My life is set and cured, my trilogy completed in novels via my ability to focus, I never knew the word focus was real, I was weak and riddled with ADD when you knew me Caitlin, a child without glasses, I never knew knowledge. I finally had a 4.0 I knew what I was talking about, I studied, kissed my acting teachers ass. I emailed her in the summer to assure what would become the SVA theatre on 8th avenue, I studied Amy Toubin's career on the "American Psycho" DVD extras, my plan was enacted my dream of novels matching a film series with scattered DVDs possible through tireless work, I studied B.E.E. the work of Brett Easton Ellis, I watched the shitty 80s "Less Than Zero" I created three Fairfield DVDs the project I applied to The School of Visual Arts for would be completed, my Fairfield artwork would be created the glorification of my dream possible because of my pinpointing my adult ADD. My life's work, notes from Christie Cummings, precise lines from childhood; everything was published because of my medication. I had the ability to learn for the first time in my life.
Three months awaited the tragedy.
This is the beginning of Dr.Manhattan's introduction in the watchmen. I cry to this when I see this film, this is me this is what they've done to me. Shelly was Anna, who took photographs of midgets at coney island.
This is my literal memory, my reflection before the tragedy of becoming Little Nemo and the curse of joining AMORC
To Be Continued...
-Little Nemo
(occupy wall street)
Apart of occupy wall street
A Caitlin Rodriguez production
Little nemo on hbo
2/16/2012
Black Caitlin heart
The School of Visual Arts Church of silver tiles day 483/8 James Hughes days
