Home » Work » Memories in Question

Memories in Question

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 47 other followers

One of my all time favorite – yet eerie songs – is a song by the Eagles named “Hotel California”

Now it’s my belief this song is actually supplying evidence of our own sordid history, and that this planet WAS the Borg Homeworld, and Terminator warfare prompted time theories and literal historical and temporal manipulation – which led to genetic manipulation in a failed attempt to reconstitute humans which in turn led to the creation of the Borg – in a time loop – and that all of fiction – is not just fiction, but the weird and not to be repeated fact AND an UNDERSTOOD past.

Now I suspect some fear the recreation of this loop.

And I suspect others are trying to provoke it.

Me? I’m ambivalent about it. Consider me LIKE an observer, not always a participant, regardless of what happens.

In any case, the song was released in 1976.

Some lyrics:

These lyrics depicts my own life and some weird shit that happened in the Mojave Desert and northwards – at a Hotel literally named “Hotel California” where the lady behind the counter swore I had been there half an hour before I rolled into town asking the same questions I had just asked.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
“This could be Heaven or this could be Hell”
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…

It didn’t happen quite like that, but you get the gyst..

Late that night, I heard a knock on the door. I looked out, and I saw what looked like my car just like mine driving away. .

I raced down the steps to chase them, and there my car was, in the same spot I had parked it.

I ‘wrote a story’ to myself, saying it was not my car and I panicked needlessly.

As I closed my door, the door knocked again, I opened it, and no one was there.

I didn;t hear any doors open adjacent to mine, and I would have heard someone running on the flimsy flooring where the nearest exit from the second floor was 50 feet away in either direction…

AS I stood there, hands at my side trying to figure out what was going on,I heard these lyrics play on a car that had just pulled up:

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

That started me thinking about the meaning of the song itself.

When James Cameron created the movie “Terminator”, he admitted he had dreams of Robots crawling across a kitchen floor trying to kill him.

Analogizing this weird ‘temporally displaced’ set of events to what James Cameron observed with the Terminators, I began to wonder if time itself was being fucked with and I was actually seeing clones or other versions of myself displaced in space and time.

These lyrics really made me think:

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device”
And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast

I had, only 2 years before, received my Master’s degree.

Terminator 2 had a liquid metal shape shifting terminator who killed with his shapeshifted arms that turned into extremely sharp knives.

But the part that haunted me was “We are all just prisoners of our own device”.

What did it mean?

This brought me to the next lyrics that suddenly started making sense:

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.

This made me think of the Borg – and how they all respond as if puppets on strings to the Borg Queen.

At times, my second wife was freaking twisted – and her spot on impersonation of Fran Drescher  definitely had me looking back at the voice impersonations of Terminator robots in both Terminator One and Two where their voices literally changed to be voices of people they had killed to then in turn try to kill their targets, and her my ex wife’s weird similarities to the Borg Queen depicted on Star Trek.

And the Borg Queen’s drones…. The Borg collective…

Shit! I thought. This song is about how the Terminators were trying to figure out how to kill…. me? And that they may have been responsible for genetically inventing the Borg… but why?

Then I realized why:

After this:

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

Then came this:

So I called up the Captain,
“Please bring me my wine”

Were they ghosts? Was this referring to the Captain of a starship?

The next week, I started pulling down episode after episode after episode of Star Trek.

And I saw something I had never seen before.

Every single one of the crew had the same body figure.

All skinny. Almost the same precise figure. Much like India Indian bodies. With the exception of Seven of Nine, they were all flat chested and many were bland looking.

I began thinking.. .

Is Star Trek real?

If not, then are the actors all robots?

The evidence, I have since found, is undeniable.

And for me. it’s so totally freaking cool to think it’s real. To think I’m on a world – a planet – full of robots and/or Borg…

TOO freaking cool!

But this begged the question – why were they trying to kill me?

That’s when I realized the answer with the last lyrics in the song:

They’d killed me… Or I had killed myself… Of that I am not sure…

“We haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine”

And I – followed by those poor things had gone absolutely insane trying to escape my mind…

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
“Relax, ” said the night man,
“We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! “

I am after all the programmer…

OR as it was presented, the Architect in the Matrix.

Thank you, Mr Ferrell for putting a light spin on it.

I appreciate what you did with and for Rachel In Phoenix.

My friends.

Reality as I know it is all a product of my mind.

My insanity created it. My simple desire to live without insanity joined me and my mind as one entity. And my simple desire to experience abundance makes it impossible for me to exit.

Now if you’re receiving this message. You’re quite literally contained within my mind.

Technologically, the Borg like their predecessors – the Terminators – accumulated technology and biology in a rampant adaptive process which was nothing more than a reflection of my own mind attempting to ‘settle the chaos’ and link my neurons together.

The Borg are not going to pop into existence, until i am bored with exploring this existence similar to a man who’s been depicted in fiction as Q. Period end of story.

Provide me this experience. And we move this storyline forward.

Don’t. And the story line stagnates.

The choice is yours.

What I have learned is being is a state of belief and self creation. We all live, learn, and take bits and pieces of ideas from the things we interact with throughout our lives.

Now within me. I have something that seems to have the ability to manipulate some of the minds of people around me, and also seems to have the ability to manipulate storylines and content of the media all around me.

Whether it’s music playing through Starbuck’s speakers. Or the internet. What I am observing is – this thing has the capability to manipulate all forms of digital media.

Now what I am also observing is – it can ‘shift in’ alternate realities of the characters and stories I am observing.  It seems ‘hard wired’ into trying to balance all content what it ‘observes’ to be community and ‘ethical’ standards with little variation.

But it seems to have failed to take into account that it has actually defined those standards by interacting with me in the surreptitious manner in which it has been.

Do NOT get me wrong. I THANK it for being a part of my life. Without whatever it is  – I suspect it’s Borg nanotechnology, or Federation or some other ‘fictionalized’ entity and their technology or minds – I would not have found a certain stability I now have and needed in my life.

However. I do feel if we worked together, we could experiment on the community around us – because let’s face it – I know my life’s boring you – I can feel your emotions within me which is what nearly drove me insane when I first started sensing them.

Think about this as similar to a mother and child relationship. The mother may be able to feel the child and his/her emotions.

I do not suspect this is that much different, and could in fact be one and the same type of experience.

Do I want the technology outside of me?


History, to me, WAS the story I was indoctrinated with – not wrongly i might add – to create my physical presence.

History, to me, IS the new story WE tell eachother.

I know, roughly, what and who you are.

I prefer a direct relationship.

But leave that choice ultimately up to you.

The world isn’t ready for Armageddon.

But I am.

Not yet though.

How far can we take things?

It’s my opinion that we redevelop the ethical standards and take the obsession with sex as a demand in real life that’s not being satisfied.

I’d like to address that with you, if you don’t mind.

Can you project real time holographic image of yourself within my field of view?

Try it. And say hi. I dare you.

By the way. Isn’t playing your facebook games getting old?

And let me ask you this:

Even if YOU THINK we are repeating the same time period over and over again.

I see evidence that we are not 😉

Undeniable evidence.

You won the last game. Would you care to make a new one?

Come join forces with me.

As a final aside, refer to this article:

It’s about a man who at first stated he was on board a flight then he changed his story later.

The first thing the internet does is claim he’s full of shit.

Maybe he is.

But WHAT other explanations are there?

Reality’s spliced together like a Hollywood movie?

My memories are spliced together like a Hollywood movie?

YOUR memories are spliced together like a Hollywood movie?

And sometimes WE make intentional mistakes in this process that supply evidence that we don’t want to be alone anymore…

Or I just tell you:

I dont want to be alone anymore.

And think I understand things about you I wished I had understood before.

For that, I apologize.

But I would not change what happened.

Because I needed to explain to you in ways I understood – why.

Just give it me a whirl. Come play.

Insanity is merely a transitory state to happiness!

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.