caitlin,
I hate every childhood memory I've had. These memories haunt me in my hell they become magic symbols that are supposed to get me through the day, through fear, through panhandling.
My thoughts are paused to prevent me from writing the truth.
I don't want these memories back I want my past forgotten I don't need these memories to focus or to find clothing or to look like a model. I want my cocaine life style, I need to represent the movement in fashion this is a propeller for finding my way back to the real world finding whoever runs this fucking thing I'm in who won't come directly to me.
I don't have time to argue about the psychosis symbols that became heighlighted when the person james hughes tries to appease the others in the concept that any of this is my artwork. Forced symbols, empty lacked mentality that I'm held together by symbols.
Nothing with childhood or the word "good" was ever my belief or artwork.
I care about nothig but the superficial.
My artwork starts in manhattan when I shit on crane street (after returning from this nightmare in brooklyn). I'm told I'm speaking to paris hilton and these people refuse to let me go. They don't give a fuck that I'm homeless or that I've run out of cash. I summon demons, I mock any concept of spirituality that tim willis taught me in childhood. I would burn down fucking crane street if I had my $ at this point. What they call my soul is what I must sell to free myself from their psychological lock on me, the disturbment of my past every person who meant less than the images I have from mercedes bendz fashion week the days with arun my biological mother the days in a life I don't consider my own the past that I closed when I came home to n.y.c. in 2004.
Everytime I hear the word of one of these people from childhood...
I was lied to about paris hilton being associated to this project.
I saw her father once and was told he was on the other end but have never spoken to this man
I was never freed to my journey to the upper 1% of manhattan and freedom from the illumanti on irving plaza down the street from the only real source of spirituality
I have to fight to get any words that matter it's rare I can comment on all of this
I thought somebody at occupy wall street would know what company invests in this technology but nothing of the sorts has happened
I had a plan with richard hilton or whoever pretends to be him to become an american apparel model through this project that I'll likely fulfill with god republican
I say this and small thoughts are paused there's a fake smell that's on my retina but I'm unable to get this off at this time.
I wouldn't mention directly what I'm saying, somebody wants their artwork in my artwork.
My perception is altered I'm to go into a seizure
At this point it's not worth writing where this person has me
I write anyway
I'm more attached to the people at occupy than the memories of reality or the friends of james hughes
Nobody ever knew me in life, I kept seperate parts of myself from each person
this is in the days before the year 1997 is forced into references or childhood or the world where a man doesn't pay bills before I got trapped in this game to bring you $ (my final goal)
you will own the tv station
I listen to songs that I left on the walls of bushwick
symbols of who I am against these people who attempt to throw children in me or reference my childhood, the novels I hated the poverty I'd forgotten when I moved to n.y.c.
I am asula langely soryeu I am evangelion 002
I wish to forget the memories of the dead who don't belong inside my mind I exist for my exterior front and for superficiality to find paris hilton to tell her my story at the end of this hell
I am the enemy of the illumanti the enemy of the seele
I encourage anyone who reads this to read the esoteric texts archieve
you can enter the astral plane and have all the secrets the illumanti have
the rosicrucian order <- these are my enemy, the people I hate who keep me trapped int his shit and create creative versions of people and lie to me when I run out of my medication
Seele is probably a metaphor for the people on the other end who try to save me from this project. I read and dabbled with too much meditation and the problem
with the lowest levels in the project is at some point I must have believed
spirituality to be real but eventually find it all a waste of time
which is unneccessary to fuck the girl in my dorm room upstairs
this is because 6 years ago they documented me and then started interacting with my mind in 2007
I require 24/7 stream of music I require media that doesn't skip
or on the other end people attack my mind
soundwaves attack me in this game
it wasn't meant to be as harmful as it is now
but I ran out of $ and didn't take the harm seriously in 2007
I live without senses until I can find my medication
everyday is worthless I have amensia I'm forced to remember my past
every part of me is owned by others their creation of my current
version is an emergency mode to save me from this project
get the $, you, the tv station. God republican has never failed at this and
used to put me to sleep on the train panhandling.
I wish this was all bullshit I really fucking do but I swear to fuck caitlin
if you help me get my medication I can explain to you the project
and at some point show you, eventually they'll tell me their addresses.
-Little Nemo
(occupy wall street)
apart of occupy wall street
a caitlin rodriguez production
little nemo on hbo
2/29/2012
black caitlin heart
the school of visual arts church of silver tiles day 496/8 james hughes days
i've been counting this since prison
I hate every childhood memory I've had. These memories haunt me in my hell they become magic symbols that are supposed to get me through the day, through fear, through panhandling.
My thoughts are paused to prevent me from writing the truth.
I don't want these memories back I want my past forgotten I don't need these memories to focus or to find clothing or to look like a model. I want my cocaine life style, I need to represent the movement in fashion this is a propeller for finding my way back to the real world finding whoever runs this fucking thing I'm in who won't come directly to me.
I don't have time to argue about the psychosis symbols that became heighlighted when the person james hughes tries to appease the others in the concept that any of this is my artwork. Forced symbols, empty lacked mentality that I'm held together by symbols.
Nothing with childhood or the word "good" was ever my belief or artwork.
I care about nothig but the superficial.
My artwork starts in manhattan when I shit on crane street (after returning from this nightmare in brooklyn). I'm told I'm speaking to paris hilton and these people refuse to let me go. They don't give a fuck that I'm homeless or that I've run out of cash. I summon demons, I mock any concept of spirituality that tim willis taught me in childhood. I would burn down fucking crane street if I had my $ at this point. What they call my soul is what I must sell to free myself from their psychological lock on me, the disturbment of my past every person who meant less than the images I have from mercedes bendz fashion week the days with arun my biological mother the days in a life I don't consider my own the past that I closed when I came home to n.y.c. in 2004.
Everytime I hear the word of one of these people from childhood...
I was lied to about paris hilton being associated to this project.
I saw her father once and was told he was on the other end but have never spoken to this man
I was never freed to my journey to the upper 1% of manhattan and freedom from the illumanti on irving plaza down the street from the only real source of spirituality
I have to fight to get any words that matter it's rare I can comment on all of this
I thought somebody at occupy wall street would know what company invests in this technology but nothing of the sorts has happened
I had a plan with richard hilton or whoever pretends to be him to become an american apparel model through this project that I'll likely fulfill with god republican
I say this and small thoughts are paused there's a fake smell that's on my retina but I'm unable to get this off at this time.
I wouldn't mention directly what I'm saying, somebody wants their artwork in my artwork.
My perception is altered I'm to go into a seizure
At this point it's not worth writing where this person has me
I write anyway
I'm more attached to the people at occupy than the memories of reality or the friends of james hughes
Nobody ever knew me in life, I kept seperate parts of myself from each person
this is in the days before the year 1997 is forced into references or childhood or the world where a man doesn't pay bills before I got trapped in this game to bring you $ (my final goal)
you will own the tv station
I listen to songs that I left on the walls of bushwick
symbols of who I am against these people who attempt to throw children in me or reference my childhood, the novels I hated the poverty I'd forgotten when I moved to n.y.c.
I am asula langely soryeu I am evangelion 002
I wish to forget the memories of the dead who don't belong inside my mind I exist for my exterior front and for superficiality to find paris hilton to tell her my story at the end of this hell
I am the enemy of the illumanti the enemy of the seele
I encourage anyone who reads this to read the esoteric texts archieve
you can enter the astral plane and have all the secrets the illumanti have
the rosicrucian order <- these are my enemy, the people I hate who keep me trapped int his shit and create creative versions of people and lie to me when I run out of my medication
Seele is probably a metaphor for the people on the other end who try to save me from this project. I read and dabbled with too much meditation and the problem
with the lowest levels in the project is at some point I must have believed
spirituality to be real but eventually find it all a waste of time
which is unneccessary to fuck the girl in my dorm room upstairs
this is because 6 years ago they documented me and then started interacting with my mind in 2007
I require 24/7 stream of music I require media that doesn't skip
or on the other end people attack my mind
soundwaves attack me in this game
it wasn't meant to be as harmful as it is now
but I ran out of $ and didn't take the harm seriously in 2007
I live without senses until I can find my medication
everyday is worthless I have amensia I'm forced to remember my past
every part of me is owned by others their creation of my current
version is an emergency mode to save me from this project
get the $, you, the tv station. God republican has never failed at this and
used to put me to sleep on the train panhandling.
I wish this was all bullshit I really fucking do but I swear to fuck caitlin
if you help me get my medication I can explain to you the project
and at some point show you, eventually they'll tell me their addresses.
-Little Nemo
(occupy wall street)
apart of occupy wall street
a caitlin rodriguez production
little nemo on hbo
2/29/2012
black caitlin heart
the school of visual arts church of silver tiles day 496/8 james hughes days
i've been counting this since prison
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