Shouts From Down Under

Closer...

They've moved. Closer.

I feel prying eyes on the back of my neck, burning holes in the Venetians, and the temptation to separate a couple of slats and peer out has to be fought. I move away from the window. Away from accidentally showing my shadowed shape across that screen of light.

They would see that I'm here for sure, that they needn't wait any longer. They can whisper into muted radios, wave strange gestures into the air and come bursting into every door in the buildings design blueprint.

They know everything, and they know that after today, no-one will know anything of where I've gone. Just that I've disappeared. That I'm off the grid.

Just a note left for the milkman, if there was a milkman, and a couple of Department phone calls to relatives, informing them that there'd been an accident, and I'm no longer communicative. It's sad. Very sad, but they'll be let know the moment I regain consciousness.



As I eat another Chiko roll with lots of salt on it, and dipped in hot chilli, I wait for the squad of heavily armed goons.

I might as well pretend that I'm ok, play a bit of Counter Strike. Yes, an old fashioned game but one I can seem to hit what I fire towards sometimes.

If I ever have people squat next to me in a cafe and ask me to move tables, I'll ask them if they play Counter Strike. They'll probably ask if it's ok for the president to meet me, as he most likely plays CS as well. Same era sort of, as me, and probably he enjoys the militantness of dodging bullets, yet being able to switch off to it all so easily.

How did they get onto my nanowrimo idea about apps? FBI or CIA checking out my novels, that's what it is for sure. I can feel it in my passwords.

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2014/01/what-happens-when-the-presid...

Anyway, I've been a bit hijacked, myself, by a couple of blogs I stumbled across, that struck close to home, that's why this entry is so wired and weird, and way out there dude; Area 51 and that stuff.

Yes, I've watched Paul, but I didn't like the mockery. Not my scene, even though I can empathise with people trying to poke your head full of their beliefs.
Standing by them is one thing, accusing is another. Leave people be, that's my stance. Just live how you believe, live those beliefs. Than its your business, and theirs is theirs. How did I get from surveillance to beliefs?

Well, the other blog that slapped me silly, harder than a thong applying sunscreen, wasn't about presidents, but about a Cray computer. My nanowrimo story has a Cray computer in it. This is just too much of a coincidence. I'm not paranoid. And neither am I. Just wait till I turn on the shower before we talk.

http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2014/01/these-two-guys-tried-to-re...

There's another item of interest I want to touch on here today that is cutting edge stuff.

Do you know what a Felfie is? Felfies are like a Selfie but they are special. Very special.

This came from none other than the outback author Fleur Mcdonald herself.

http://fleurmcdonald.com/felfies/

I grew up in those places, so I know why this is such a special moment in history.

Here is a unique photo of someone but I don't think it's a Felfie. It's more like an Ausielfie or maybe a Barbielflie.



Sparky

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