Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Well, it’s been five days since I’ve last written; I’ve been busy. I’ve got lots of things going on with my life. I’ve been very busy with teaching and preparing for class and also busy doing other miscellaneous chores. The perpetrators have been busy too, attacking my eyes a lot, and also working over my lower back. They seem to be shooting me in the back mostly while I am sleeping; I feel a couple of shots just after I wake up, but mostly the greatest discomfort is when I am lying down in bed. During the day or when I am up walking or even just sitting, my back is better. Perhaps they do it while I sleep because I don’t move around as much when I sleep and they want to make sure to attack a certain part of my spine/back, but of course this is just speculation. At any rate, it’s getting more difficult for me to walk, and I walk a tiny bit hunched over now. My back always hurts.
I don’t have time right now to give you the story of my life. I will say that there was one pivotal point, when I was 19 years old, when the perpetrators first began attacking me. I will give you the very, very condensed version right now.
My father died of cancer when I was 19. It was a slow, painful dying—a misery for both my father and his family. I quit college to stay home and take care of my father while he was dying (he was at home for all but the last month or so). My grandmother also came to live with us to take care of my dying father. My grandmother, some hospice workers, and myself took turns taking care of my father; we took shifts. I looked after my father for one shift every day.
One day I came into my father’s room and saw him sitting up in bed. (This was unusual during the latter stages of his sickness.) He was shaking his head and had a very pained expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. “We’re in trouble,” he said, and I am now quoting him verbatim; these are words I will never forget as long as I live. “Who’s in trouble,” I said, stunned. “You and me,” he said, looking at me. I said in a panic, “Why?” He pointed his index finger upwards and circled it around, saying “God’s no good.”
Those were the last coherent, meaningful words (other than “No” or “Stop,” which he would say when I was trying to help him [e.g., give him medicine] when he didn’t want me to) that my father ever said. I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I was an emotional wreck. I told my grandmother what he said, and she became very distraught. Perhaps she was concerned that my father had "spilled the beans" and told me too much. I wish he had, because I suffered as if he had, and the perpetrators either (1) concluded he had told me about them even though he hadn’t, even though I had told my grandmother exactly what my father had told me, word for word, or (2) they saw it was a wonderful opportunity (read: excuse) to clobber me because they just didn’t like a goody-two-shoes like me anyway. Whatever the case, immediately after that my grandmother had an additional healthcare worker sent to watch over my father, in the same room with me, at exactly the same time as my shift. While sitting there in the room with me and my dying father one day, he turned to me and said (and I quote), “What are your weaknesses?” And so it all began. How about you: When sitting bedside of your dying father, do you enjoy a little interrogation from the Spanish Inquisition about your weaknesses? I blew my top and told my grandmother to fire him or I would call his agency and do it. But this was the beginning of the whole corrupt military/government/mafia/gangster types (i.e., "perpetrators") attacking me thing.
My father died in another two months or so and I went back to school to try to put the pieces of my life back together. Soon at school, there were strange men—always in pairs, groups of two—staring at me menacingly, intimidating me, and appearing wherever I went on campus. I was scared out of my wits and eventually quit school (for the second time, not to return again for about 20 years). I told my grandmother about these people at school. She told me I didn’t know anything about the world. “You’re only book smart,” she said to me angrily. On another occasion—shortly before I moved out of my family’s home, never to return—she said something like, “They’ll murder you!” I said, “Who? Who the hell are you talking about?” but she never answered me. (I can’t remember her exact words; I remember either “They’ll murder you” or “They’ll kill you,” but I’m not sure which.)
Well, there’s a lot more to the story but I don’t have time right now. Hey, but now you can see some of the fun I had when I was just a 19-year-old college student who had just lost his father to cancer. The perpetrators are full of heart. :-)
Thursday, June 21, 2007
I just saw an article online about a angry mob that took matters into its own hands:
AUSTIN, Texas - Police on Wednesday were pleading for witnesses to help them track down members of an angry mob that beat a man to death after the car he was riding in apparently struck and injured a child.
-- Yahoo News (Click here for original article)
The man in question was not even the driver of the vehicle; he simply was trying to protect the driver of the vehicle from being assaulted by the angry mob and paid for it with his life. It is likely that the driver hit the girl by accident, but at any rate the behavior on the part of these people is abominable. I cite this article because it exemplifies what is wrong with the world today: There is no respect for the rule of law. It is why innocent men are beaten today, and it is why the perpetrators who attack me still exist and hurt innocent people as well. Until this world wakes up and realizes how important the rule of law is, we will never have a harmonious and peaceful society. Because of corruption, the rule of law is just a promise; it is not a reality. I dream of the day when this corrupt organization of people that hurt me will be destroyed and its members—especially the ones firing this weapon and hurting people—brought to justice.
The perpetrators have been “working over” my legs and back. In an early posting I wrote about them shooting me with a single powerful shot to the leg; this happened again last night. It was actually to the calf muscle on the back of my left leg. The shot created another “instant bruise.” They have also continued to shoot me in the back. My back is now painful, sore and stiff all the time, but it is especially bad at night when I am simply lying down. I believe this is because they are shooting me while I sleep. One time recently I woke up, and just as I was waking up I felt a shot to the back. It is at any rate very strange that my back should feel worse when I am doing nothing (no matter what position I lie in) then when I am up and about and walking around. I fear that these recent attacks may lead to permanent damage to my back and legs, but it still probably too early to tell for sure, and at any rate I must accept what must be. Unlike the angry mob in Texas, I believe in the rule of law and will not be attacking people simply because I am attacked. This corrupt group needs to be destroyed, disbanded and brought to justice. I hope one day it happens. I also take heart in the fact that prior to this point in my life I have never had any back problems whatsoever. In that regard, I have been very lucky.
The mafia “hit sign”
I have to explain about the whole finger-on-the-nose thing. Many years ago, and still somewhat to this day, various perpetrators would walk by me, scowling and holding a finger against the side of their nose. Later a policeman told me that this is the mafia “hit sign.” It is certainly an attempt to intimidate. I guess I’m mature enough to look at it now as kind of silly, but the aggravating thing is it’s very disrespectful. Remember the perpetrators do everything in groups, in numbers. When enough bozos (who you’ve never met before) come up to you with hateful expressions and fingers held to their noses (e.g., ten different bozos do this to you in one day), it can get annoying. I have learned and am still learning to just laugh it off. But anyway, if you notice someone doing this sometime, now you’ll know what is going on.
A more critical question here is whether the perpetrators are, in fact, mafia. This is certainly possible, but it is also possible they are government/military types simply wanting to intimidate me. I do not know the answer.
Monday, June 18, 2007
In the early hours of yesterday morning, from about 2am to 8am, the perps shot me in the back. My back hurt yesterday and hurts it now as well: it’s sore and tight. I’m not sure if they shot me in the back last night as well; it’s possible that it was still sore from the night before.
How does it all happen? I believe that my neighbors are involved, and before you say it’s impossible, let me explain why and give you some background. First of all, there is the matter of the sensations I feel and any disability that follows thereafter. The disability is very real and could be verified by a competent doctor, although finding and affording one in China is not easy. Second, experience has led me to believe that this weapon is a “line of sight” (not a great term in this case) or “linear” weapon: the weapon’s fire (volley) leaves the weapon and proceeds in a straight line (towards me, if that is where they aimed it). It seems to be some sort of controlled radiation; it would not surprise me if inside the weapon was some small amount of radioactive material.
But I want to say something about neighbors and the modus operandi of the criminals. These perpetrators are powerful: if they have connections to the neighbors who lived here before I got here, they could simply say “move” or “let us do what we have to do here” and the neighbors must acquiesce or face the perps' wrath. If they aren’t connected, the perps may be able to find affiliated "members" who know them and could influence them, or even to simply throw money at the problem (buy their apartment from them or rent it from them for a very attractive price). It is not so hard for the criminals to move themselves into any neighboring apartments to one I choose. The ideal situation would be a house on my own tract of land, but I have no money to afford this. But there is no doubt that when I first looked at the apartment where I lived, there were no attacks on me. At least I felt nothing. And the attacks were few or none in the first few days that I lived there, if memory serves me.
So you can imagine the frustration of knowing my neighbors are hurting me, torturing me, maiming me—and being able to do nothing about it. That is the mental anguish that targeted individuals such as myself live in. I see my neighbors occasionally come and go out of their apartments (with smirks on their faces) and there’s nothing I can do. If I break down their door, I will go to jail. Even though just on the other side of that door may be proof of what they are doing. It is insidious and awful and I hope some day the truth comes out and these people are brought to justice.
A neighbor where I once lived said, “You have no evidence and you can’t prove anything.” Actually, I didn’t accuse her of any secret activities; I came to ask her to stop bothering me and my roommate (e.g., she was making noise in her apartment). I didn’t threaten her—didn’t say I would call the police or write about her on the Internet or anything of the sort. So I think that was a very strange thing for her to say in response to a complaint about her behavior.
Friday, June 15, 2007
The weather has gotten a little cooler lately, providing much needed relief. I am busy as usual with teaching and classes. Still being shot in the eyes and nose. I was happy to report earlier that the gas smell had stopped, but it resumed last night. When I go out on my balcony, I smell the smell, and it may be that it is coming from the air conditioner inverter that my neighbors put up (see previous news), but I cannot be sure. You may recall that these are the neighbors who filled my apartment with gas (I saw the gas tank) while working on this very same inverter. Another curiousity: I have never seen this inverter being used, even when the weather was dreadfully hot. I also have an inverter and it has a fan that operates when the air conditioner is turned on. So it seems they were in an awful big hurry to install an inverter that they never use. My neighbors have also placed a large dog on their balcony (which is next to mine), something that is illegal in Beijing. Small dogs are allowed in the city but not large ones.
Last night they shot a powerful shot to my leg: It created an instant “black-and-blue” bruise on my leg (I mean instant), and I have been limping slightly today as a result. Such powerful shots are generally infrequent but do happen from time to time: I have had one to my left eye, and another two powerful shots to my right ear just as I was leaving America for China, which I believe was done to me by my neighbor at that time, David Martelli. I have had some terrible neighbors, and Mr. Martelli was one of them. On another occasion he dressed in all black and sat outside sharpening his wooden martial arts sword while threating me with a “mafia hit” sign, which is when someone holds their index finger against their nose (discussed in a previous entry). Regarding the targeting of my ear, I felt two shots to my ear area accompanied by high-pitch noises, and then within moments the whole right side of my head felt like it was on fire; it was simply burning hot. I was walking to my car, carrying some things, when I felt the two shots; and then immediately he came out of his house, in some kind of ungodly spandex workout suit, and walked in the other direction with what I can only call a “macho expression” on his face. Anyway, I believe I sustained permanent hearing damage from that incident and that my hearing has not been the same since.
I have had some interesting neighbors/roommates here in China as well. I have not always lived in the apartment I live in now. When I first got to Beijing, I had no place to stay and needed a place immediately. A teacher at the school I was working for said he had a room in his two-bedroom apartment he wanted to rent, so I accepted. He was Chinese and I would guess somewhere in his early 20’s. His English name is Tristan, and his Chinese name is Li Chao (or Qiao, I’m not sure exactly which). He worked for Modern English, a company I used to work for as well. At any rate, over the course of one to two months (the time I shared an apartment with him and his girlfriend), he did the following wonderful things (all umprompted by me):
- He said “I have the heart of a gangster.” (simply out of the blue, umprompted)
- He told me that gangsters control all the vendors in the open-air market that we visited once. (again umprompted by me)
- He brought me some candy on three occasions, and on each of the tree occasions, he said “It’s poison” (referring to the candy). Sometimes he said this in response to my asking, “What is it?” On the third occasion, however, I did not even ask that question, and he still made sure to say, “It’s poison.” Of course, it wasn’t poison, but I didn’t see the humor in it. He and his girlfriend assured that all their friends always joke about food being poisoned and that they all find it very funny; they said that is part of Chinese culture. I have now lived in China for seven months and no one else has ever joked about poisoning my food. Needless to say, I moved out within days after the third poison-food joke.
To this day, Mr. Chao has never returned the 500 yuan I gave them as a deposit on the room, nor the water-dispensing machine which I could not take with me because it had their bottle of water in it (they had purchased some water, and for me to take the machine I would have to remove their water bottle, making a mess, inconveniencing them, and so on). I asked them to call me when they used up the water (this was about five months ago) and to this day they never have; and I also asked them to return the deposit and to this day they never have.
As I said, I have had some wonderful roommates and neighbors.
June 13, 2007
I know all of this stuff is hard to believe. I understand more than that: I know that what I post here sounds positively, absolutely crazy. I would never believe if I hadn’t experienced it and seen it with my own eyes—if I didn’t live through it every day. I post it up here with two hopes in mind: (1) that those with an open mind might be able to accept perhaps the possibility of at least some of what I post here, and (2) to help others who may be in a situation similar to my own. Anyway, I just wanted to post a note to indicate that the “unbelievability” of what I post is not lost on me. Believe me—I know, I know. It’s what makes it so difficult to be a victim.
This morning they shot me once in my right eye and twice in my left eye. I was just walking around the apartment for two of the shots; during the other shot I was, well, sitting on the toilet.
I have not noticed the smell of gas recently, which hopefully indicates no gas, although that does not rule out their use of some “odorless” gas. As always, I hope for the best. However, their “weapon attacks” continue all night, unabated. It has unfortunately become very, very hot of late. It is possible that this weapon the criminals use is more powerful during hotter weather. At least, that has always been my experience over the years. The attacks feel more intense, more powerful. To make matters worse, it seems that the weather has undergone some kind of “inversion” (if I’m using the right term): It’s hotter and more stifling at night, making sleep difficult.
Yesterday, while I was teaching class, and while the heat was stifling, they shot me in the brain. In the left hemisphere (the left side of my head). There is a long story associated with this. But basically they started this two (or is it three) summers ago and have done this off and on. Anyway, it’s another thing that I must deal with.
This morning I noticed what appeared to be mercury on my study desk in my apartment. I doubt that the perpetrators did this and instead suspect leakage from a battery, but I post it here anyway just in case. Why do I think it was mercury? I remember seeing mercury in a chemistry class once and this material seemed to be the same. It looked like several small, silver “balls”; when I crushed a ball with my finger, it became several, still smaller, silver balls. If I crushed these new smaller balls, they too “divided” into still smaller bills. Eventually it becomes dust. It’s very interesting. But mercury is also poisonous. I wiped up the mess and threw the paper wipes into the trash.
There is a divinity that shapes are ends, rough-hew them how we will.
Well, what else is going on in my life? I’m very busy teaching and preparing for class. Between preparing for class, teaching, and dealing with the perpetrators' attacks, my life is busy ’round the clock. I teach English here in Beijing. My students like me and say I am an excellent teacher. I do my best to ensure my students have ample opportunities to learn, speak and grow in a congenial, fun environment. I work hard to prepare good materials and make sure students have everything they need.
I teach at a training school. It’s quite different from a university. Students pay their own money, with no government subsidies as far as I know, to attend school here. As such, the students expect a fun class that is very oriented toward their needs. I try to make sure that students get their money’s worth. It’s a lot of work. I do the best I can. My linguistics degree has really come in handy. Fate is strange: I thought I would end up working in computer science, but instead my path has veered more toward the linguistics side of things. At the university I majored in both linguistics and computer science, but in grad school I majored in computer science. I had hoped to get my Ph.D. in computer science and pursue a direction that revolved mostly around CS. I never thought I would end up teaching English in China.
June 10, 2006
It's hotter than a habanero pepper. Beijing has become a virtual steamroom. Men of all shapes and sizes are walking around either without shirts or with their shirts “rolled half up,” exposing their midriffs. For my part, I have kept my perpetually-wet-rag-of-a-shirt on at all times.
This morning I decided to do an informal count of the number of times I felt the effects of what I believe to be the perps' weapon. In less than one hour, I counted more than 100 shots to my nose and 20 shots to my eyes. These attacks continue more or less at this pace all day, every day, so you can do the math yourself to get a tiny idea of what my life is like. I just wanted to quantify things a little bit.
What does it feel like? How can I answer that. How could I possibly describe it in words? If someone asked you to describe the color blue, how could you? You could give some definition based on wavelength, but as none have ever seen a wavelength with their naked eyes, it’s hard to visualize. You have to say something like the following: This is blue. The ocean is blue. And so on. It is the same with this weapon. It’s a little like being jabbed with a tiny needle, but that’s just a rough approximation. The truth is there is nothing else like it—at least nothing else that most people have experienced. I imagine that those who suffered through the blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki experienced something like it on a much, much worse and larger scale. It’s radiation—to understand it necessitates feeling it.
I live for the day when people will recognize these criminals for what they really are: terrorists who torture and maim innocent people. I live for the day when people look upon them the way they look upon the Nazis of World War II. Both regimes torture and maim innocent people. The perpetrators may be mafia, and many people these days seem to have a very laissez-faire attitude towards mafia-type gangs. I remember watching a TV documentary on the battles that were going on between the dominant street gang in a South American country (Argentina? I forget now) and the police, who were trying to keep order. Apparently the gangsters inside the jails didn’t like the way they were being treated, so they ordered their fellow gangsters on the outside to attack the police and do notable acts of public destruction and general mayhem. A citizen who was interviewed said that this gang was really a good thing for everyone—that they helped lots of poor people, gave them money and food, and so on, and that therefore the police should just give in to their demands.
But this is no surprise. All gangs do some good things—providing their members protection, giving them food, clothing, emotional support, etc. As a matter of fact, the Nazis did that as well. They provided jobs for German soldiers, gave them positions of power, sent money home to their families, and so on. Perhaps we should also think of the Nazis as great benefactors? I don’t think so. A million good deeds do not excuse one really atrocious one. Any organization that maims and tortures innocent people—innocent civilians--is an organization that should not exist.
June 7, 2007
Well, as predicted (as was predictable), the criminals have been attacking
my eyes. I just got off the subway and I was being shot in the eyes. In
addition, over the last two days I have also been shot in the hands,
heart, and nose (always the nose).
They attacked my right hand because it has been injured lately.
To make a long story short:
I was tired and foolish and tried to carry some dumbbells (tools for
exercising) a long distance
to my home. After that, my right hand was very sore. Then a coworker named
Stephen Cotta, a white foreigner (I think American) and a person whom I had
never met before, came to a branch of the school
where I was teaching. He came up to me and I offered my hand in friendship
for a handshake. He squeezed it very hard and wouldn't let
go: I had to actually say "Enough" to get him to release my hand. Afterwards,
I had the mark of his fingernail on my finger and my right hand has
been weak ever since. Add to that the fact that the perps havw been shooting this hand and, well,
my right hand feels weak and numb all the time lately. The event with
this guy named Steven happened three Sundays ago. Whether or not he has any
affiliation with the criminals who attack me on a regular basis is of course speculation, but it would not be surprising
I could go into a lot of details regarding the attacks, but I don't
like to dwell on negative things. Everything the perps do used to bother
me a great deal, but after 20 years of torture (approximately 18 years of
physical torture), you learn to cope. I know all this is very difficult to
believe. Maybe over time I will tell the whole story of my life, or at
least the part of my life that relates to the perpetrators attacking me. I know it
makes me more vulnerable to future attacks by describing how their attacks
affect me, but it's just too much to keep it all inside me anymore. It is
truly a catharsis to talk about all the bad things happening to me and it
helps me preserve my sanity.
Why I left America
I was a graduate student happily working on computer science research
in America. I was a good student; I had above a 4.0 GPA. Most of all
I have always loved learning and really enjoyed the classes I was taking
and the work I was doing.
But the perpetrators had other plans for me. The life of a graduate student
is already very stressful and the workload is extremely demanding; add to
that extreme physical abuse by the perps and it quickly became impossible
for me to fulfill my duties as a graduate student in America. I left only
after great hesitation and emotional turmoil. It is a decision that I do
not regret, because there was no way I could continue, but that is always
a source of sadness. I miss graduate school every day and miss the research
environment that I was once a part of. I will always miss it.
Things are not perfect here but they are better. It seems the perps do
not have the same power here that they have in America. I heard a very courageous
radio host, Joey
Reynolds, once say that the mafia were actually running America--i.e.,
running the whole country. This could be the case. I saw so many horrible things in
America and experienced so much abuse that to me it is believable. If it
is true, it would explain who these perpetrators are and how they could make life so difficult for
me in America. Once criminals run the government of a country, who is safe?
I love America and the promise of what America could be. America has
many good people. But the
America I experienced was one of crime, gangs and treachery. I will always
feel betrayed by those in power who hurt me because I am an American citizen.
I deserve better. I did nothing to deserve such physical brutality. I committed
no crime, broke no laws. I had no due process, no day in court. Just brutality. I thought that to have a happy life in America, being a law-abiding
citizen would be enough. I was wrong. You must also be "on friendly terms" with
this criminal group. At least that seems to be the case in regards to me and my life.
It seems that "civilization" has not yet evolved to the point where the rule of
law is enough; we must also have our secret societies, our secret protectors,
to feel truly empowered and secure. The laws, the courts, the judicial system--all
of these are not enough. We must have powerful friends, powerful connections--
friends and connections that work above, around, and beyond the law. It's really a
shame. Of course, when those friends and connections do bad (as opposed to good)
things, who is there to stop them, to police them? No one of course--that's exactly
what the rule of law was supposed to do, but we circumvented that by supporting and
enabling these secret "organizations" in the first place. To me, it seems that
America is not really a law-abiding society, but just one that on the surface
has the trappings of one. In fact, this may be more or less the case for most if not
all countries. Addendum: It is certainly the case with China, where I lived for a year and experienced and saw all kinds of corruption, and it is also probably the case with Finland, where I spent only four days or so but was also tortured.
But do not misinterpret my words. In today's era of crazed terrorists and
terrorism, it is sadly necessary for me to say the obvious, which is that I am in
no way a terrorist and would never do anything to harm my country or anyone in it.
I just wish America and the world were better places. I sometimes have a dream of
a world with no countries--or rather, with just one country called "Humanity".
Instead of being American or French or German, or Scandinavian or European or Asian,
or Western or Eastern, we would all just be Human, citizens of the one
country called Humanity. Would it end all wars? It might, if we could
actually do it. If we have countries, we have borders, and then those borders must
be protected, and so on... Actually, it's much deeper than that: Once you have
countries--or any divisions--you have the notion of "us" and "them", and that's what
truly leads to fear, hate, misunderstanding and violence. We are American and
they are "whatever country's people", we are mafia and he
is not, and so on. Perhaps I am an idealist but it's good to have ideals.
It seems to me that nothing good in this world is ever achieved without
sacrifice. This doesn't mean we all have to be Mother Theresa. We don't even
have to put others' welfare above our own; it just means we must put others'
welfare on equal footing. If we only truly believe that that it is not
fair to hurt others just to save ourselves; that we should always put others' welfare
on equal footing; and that above all else we must preserve the rule of law,
no matter the cost to ourselves--then and only then will there cease to be these secret corrupt oligarchies.
June 5, 2007
It has been far, far too long since I wrote last. I apologize for that.
From this point on I will publish news here at least once a week unless I am
physically incapacitated and unable to do so, at which point it is my hope
that others will post a message here to let you know what has happened to me.
I understand completely that what I say is very, very difficult to believe.
If you are not already a victim, then you *should* be skeptical: you should read
everything here with a discerning mind and an air of skepticism. If I had not
lived the life I have lived (and am living now), I would have a difficult time
believing all this as well. But this web page has two purposes: (1) to educate
those who do not know about this problem and (2) to share my experiences with
other victims, possibly even benefiting them.
I have been tortured and maimed by criminals for 20 years now. It's been
a long enough time now that I feel that maybe, just maybe, I can report what
has happeneed and is happening dispassionately and objectively, without the
sentimentalism and dispair that have plagued earlier attempts. At any rate,
I will do my best, and if you like you can send me feedback by using my
Mail link. I cannot promise to answer all messages,
Some possibly hopeful news
Enough introduction. It's been six months. A lot has happened. First some
positive news: It appears that sleeping outside, as on a balcony or patio,
reduces the ability of their weapon to suffocate. I have been sleeping on my
balcony of late and the result is much better. What *seems* to be the case--and
note the asterisks, as I am trying to make a cautious guess and not *claiming*
to be an authority on anything here--is that sleeping indoors creates a "box
effect" of sorts: the weapon is in a way a heat type of weapon, and inside a room or
apartment it may be easier to raise the temperature and/or burn off all the oxygen.
Anyway, that is my guess. If you are suffering under similar circumstances as mine,
you may wish to try sleeping on a balcony or patio, either in a tent or not,
on some sort of mattress. I have found things to be more comfortable *without*
the tent (perhaps for the reason mentioned above), although when it is raining
a tent is necessary.
In a way this is also sad news because it is implies that I perhaps could have
sufffered a lot less over the years if only I had known that things would be
better on a balcony or patio. The fact is that this is the first apartment I've had
in at least ten years that had a balcony or patio. I just never had a balcony or
patio to sleep on. So it's kind of sad to think that maybe all that suffering, or at
least some significant part of it, could have been avoided by something as simple
as having a balcony. My hope is that this information may benefit other victims.
My father's birthday
I know my father was somehow involved with the perpetrators, but I also feel that deep down he
didn't want to be, and that in many, many ways he was a very good man. He may have
even regretted being involved towards the end of his life; but there's no
way I can ever know for sure. But he was my father, and I loved him, so let me take
a moment to remember his birthday, which is today. He was born in 1944 so if he was
alive today he would be 63. My father died of cancer in 1987 at the age of 42.
I'm not sure what else to call this part of the entry. I don't want to be
overly emotional or sentimental so I'll just use that title for present lack of
a better one. And I'll try not to be too laborious with all of the details. The
truth is--at least in my opinion, that is--that the criminals who hurt me do too many bad things
to me for me to list every single one. For me to catalog every time they shoot me
with this weapon would be either impossible or so laborious and tedious that I
would have time for nothing else in my life, and the excruciating details would
bore you. Suffice it to say that, while days vary, my "average" experience over the
last six months is being shot hundreds of times on a typical day, and in the past
I estimate that the daily figure often reached into thousands of times. So for me
to catalog every shot is pointless.
But I cannot talk about more "notable" shots or other, "bigger" stuff. I
unfortunately have some sad news to report. Something new that they
did for many months after I came to China is an intense, purposeful, sustained attack on my eyes.
As a result, my vision has suffered. For some months now, my vision has been
"dark". There's no other way to explain it--everything is just darker, even
during the day, and it makes it harder to see. My eyes look a little weird, too,
when I look in the mirror: the two pupils are not "in sync"--one is always bigger
than the other. I remember one very intense, "long" (sustained) shot to my left
eye, and I think that maybe, as a result, my left pupil cannot open enough to let enough
light in when it should. I remember when they shot me it felt like a sharp, painful
"grinding" sensation inside my eye. I went to a hospital here, but the doctor was
not good and really didn't help me at all, although one "watch the point of light" test
showed both eyes as being below normal (below average), and this was not long after I had had
my checkup and received a new pair of glasses in America (which I wear now as well). Lights
(bulbs and overhead lights, etc.) also often "hurt" my eyes now and also when I look at
something for a *very short time* (as short as a few seconds) and then look away I see
that "ghosting" effect, if you know what I mean. The ghosting effect lasts much too long
and also makes it hard for me to see sometimes.
I am feeling some shots to my eyes right now. I had a feeling that after reading
this, the criminals would resume attacking my eyes, but I feel the truth is more important.
(They have not been attacking my eyes quite as violently in recent weeks, but still
attacking my eyes all the same). I will keep you posted. That's always been a dilemma
with me and has been one reason why I haven't updated this web page in a long time:
Because by reporting the "bad stuff" I show them exactly what bothers me and what they
can keep on attacking. By I would rather put the truth out there; maybe some day it will
help changes things in this world, maybe it will help another victim or help prevent
someone from becoming a victim, and at any rate it helps me keep my sanity. It's not
good for me to hold it all in, and one thing that the criminals try to do to victims is
isolate them. [They just shot me in the right eye, and then once in the nose.]
From time to time the perpetrators have put gas in my apartment, perhaps when they
felt that the heat-type, radiation weapon was not enough. I smell a certain
pungent smell, and also sometimes there is just the unmistakable smell of
natural gas. If you are a victim and sleep on a balcony or patio, they will
almost certainly try to use gas, and they have tried on me. But the effect is
not nearly as bad as being indoors and being suffocated and overheated by their
radiation weapon. In my opinion there is no comparison, and also you can blow
the gas away and blow fresh air in with fans.
Last Tuesday, May 26, in the morning, I was in my apartment doing chores when
all of the sudden my whole apartment smelled of natural gas. It was overwhelming.
I went out on my balcony and saw two men on the roof with a air-conditioner inverted
and a tank of natural gas. Now, my apartment is next to theirs and shares a common
roof, but why all of a sudden should they put the inverter up their on the roof,
above my balcony, just after I started sleeping on the balcony? More importantly,
why did they have a *tank of gas* up there? Perhaps there is some reasonable
explanation for it; perhaps the inverter runs on gas (who knows). All I know is,
my whole apartment filled with gas, and when I went out and confronted them, they
laughed. I called the police and it was confirmed that they did have a tank of
gas up there. I have not seen them up there again, but their inverter is up and also
since that time I have smelled gas out on the balcony, especially when
I start to lie down to sleep. Last night I heard some noise on the roof like a
pipe or hose being moved.
Though things are bad, I have much to be grateful for. There are many
wonderful people here in Beijing. I have made some wonderful, wonderful
friends, and make new friends everyday.
I often miss my life in Eugene, Oregon. I especially miss being a student,
learning, growing, being challenged, writing software. To everyone who
has used software that I have contributed to, I apologize, and wish that
I could have continued working on it. When the criminals attacked me so brutally
that I was forced to leave graduate school, I had been working for some time,
in my spare time, on a new version of Gumball Gauntlet (the video game). I
was about two weeks away from a new version that supported 3D cards and had
a much better sound system and many other improvements. I think that sadly
it will probably never happen now. I am not sure, with my eyes as bad as they
are now, how effective a programmer I can even be.
I have always done my best in this world and I will continue to do my
best. In this life and in this world we cannot always have things go the
way we want them to. Life is about choices. You must choose what is most
important to you. I have always chosen my honor. I am not the kind of person
who could ever, in any way, help some "criminal organization" (for lack of a
better descriptor) hurt innocent people. That is why I never have and never
will join them.
The more I live, the more I have
come to believe that all bad *deeds* are the result of "stupidity" rather than "evil" or
cowardice or selfishness. I recall an article I read in the newspaper about two chimpanzees
that viciously attacked a man who was staring at another chimpanzee in the zoo. They climbed
over a fence and ripped his nose off (or something like that). We share 98% of our DNA with
the chimps. What logical reason did the chimps have for ripping his nose off? Of course,
there is no logical reason. We can call it stupidity, or "bad instincts with no/poor logic,"
or what you will, but I think it is the same with the perpetrators. No one is perfect and we all
have flaws in our thinking, but some of us are more logical than others. I think it is
perhaps those whose minds are ruled more by irrational thought than by logic who end up
doing terrible things. Put many such people together and they end up doing very, very