As always, I have to "remember" what I wanted to say, after getting physically away from the influence of the tech blasting into my brain while I sit in this one spot. As I was in another spot in this tiny cubicle room, I "remembered" that Bob Dylan was in the background of another operation that very same Freshman year I lived in the Dorms at the University of Minnesota. Oh, I was attacked from dawn to dusk and in the night obviously by "lesbian" fellow rape culture opportunists, but in the meantime, I was somehow associated with a white male, very homely, very attractive, very blondish with brown hair overtones in that 80's hipster style of one side being swept back. I have no recollection of ever having met him. I just remember that I was suddenly being invited out for dinners by him. His conversation often veered into the category of having once dated Bob Dylan's daughter, "Maria" I believe her name was called ((I have never looked this up and I truly don't give a damn my dear and won't do it now). He talked of her almost every single conversation as I asked him about what Bob Dylan, the famous Minnesotan Icon at least in "Left" Minneapolis circles (which were very racist nonetheless). He, I think his name was "Ed" this good-looking, affable dude said his name was--tall, good body, fun, light, seemingly. I was pretty viciously attacked in that place, the dormatory and during that time frame. It was before Prince came out with his movie, and I was so drugged up all I could do during subfreezing weather was collapse in bed by nighttime in a drugged-up daze as my roommate in the dorm would poison and drug (and probably do worse) to me. I have no idea, luckily, what "they" did while I was drugged and unconscious and my brain was switched off to being physically assaulted. That is one of the good points about this technology, is that you are unaware of how disgusting people are truly when the disguises are off and torture is allowed in group frenzied hate settings.
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This same dude "Ed" was also behind me in a concert, which was no coincidence, for an English band that is now currently part of the cyberstalking attack upon me. I have no idea if they sit in the back rows of chairs while the usual terrorists from H-wood endlessly assault me (and very often from Brooklyn)--but their videos and songs were plastered on my YouTube channel every single moment, ever day. I used to listen to their songs, they were very popular with the "Cure" type crowd (they also poured their videos on my YouTube channel every day for months, and occasionally still pump out a few to hack into my social media)--but, it was Depeche Mode concert and that band has now come out with a "new" album, thoroughly supported by the 4th Reich media conquest of mind programming that you all call "entertainment".
But there was Ed with his blondie girlfriend standing exactly behind me, in this huge auditorium concert hall where Depeche Mode was playing to more than 2,000 people, I don't know, the place was a huge hall, the sound quality was almost the worst, and they looked tiny from the distance I was at with the "Jewish" dark-haired man who would shout in the surveillance room he and I were in, that he really wanted a "blonde with huge tits" into the microphone-covered air, while I was so drugged up I just sat and looked at him in an uncomprehending daze.
But Ed followed me around with the Jewish man who ended-up threatening to kill me once I broke the orchestrated "relationship" off with him and he didn't get ALL the rewards he was promised if he could just latch on indefinitely to attacking me with my full consent and permission.
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I hope people can follow all the dots and symbolic meaning so I don't have to "spell" it all out with the Jewish Nazis working in absolute collusion with the white supremacy that created murdering bigots like Derek Chauvin in Minneapolis. So very much I was exposed to with the "subculture" people were all nearly obsessed with becoming as "European" as possible and their one and only destination on Earth was to go to, live in and date and sleep with Europigapes. They programmed me completely into desperately needing to go to Europigapeland where the fascists could take away whatever they wanted as they programmed me with their Concentration camp arsenals of drugs and mind control technologies.
Oh, I also never "chose" the ugly Jewish creep who attacked me, I was introduced to him by the "Half-Jewish" friend I had while I was at First Avenue. I was hypnotized, and only, as in all the cases of the "men" who date-drugged me as I "believed" for some inexplicable reason that I was "instantly" in love with creeps I later think of as really disgusting filth forcing themselves upon me.
We all did a cameo on the same stage that Prince performed his routine for in Purple Rain --so I was also performing on the same stage--it was for a little stupid "contest" to do "air guitar" dancing to songs. It was spontaneous and we had never practiced--and I was "forced" through mind control to dance onstage without prior notice or practice to a song by Yello. People came up to me claiming that they recognized me afterwards, on the street (they said it was a "good" performance when I asked, not sure how much they were lying or instructed to say that and by whom, I wonder?)
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Correction, as usual after having gotten up from the laptop and doing something else--I remember the band was The Art of Noise--a band that this Jewish terrorist who only wanted "A blonde with big tits" as he shouted it for the terrorist Nazis/Mafia using their surveillance microphones to hear as his "reward" for playing anti-Semitic hate rapists drugging bigot for their approval (he also was an aspiring writer, and musician, of course).
The song was "Peter Gun" and we danced to it. I just kind of thrashed around with my stiff body and drugs feeding my brain--it probably looked extremely unimpressive and mediocre. It wasn't "fun" it was being mind controlled and an embarrassment for me afterwards. However, I was always welcomed in with a smile by the front doorman and I didn't have to pay sometimes to get in (the same doorman in the film Purple Rain--the huge white-blondish man wearing the zebra-striped clothing style). So, I actually got one perk from all the hate acts foisted upon me in the end, I got at least one club where I was welcomed and not attacked, which was the former First Avenue before Prince was killed and then taken over by milktoast white supremacists putting out really folksy but electrified fodder. I was actually assault once in a really sordid and sleazy way, which I expect everyone who profits off attacking me has to coordinate at least one time (which is far too much). I always avoided Prince even when invited through his grapevine network, to personally go to Paisley Park and meet him via an "artist" looking for promotion by using this tech and drug interface upon me (once they latched on, suddenly they were going to be recorded for the first time at Paisley Park and invited me to go along for "fun"). I always declined such invitations, subconsciously suspecting something amiss, just from the nervous polite energy and the cautious and reserved appearance of being casual I knew something was creepy and wrong with the situation, but had no idea whatsoever. I didn't want to be a screwed-over pop star girly object so I also declined and also Purple Rain is not exactly the "feminist" iconography that perhaps many today assume that it is. To me, at the time, it was a chauvinistic piece of sexual aggrandizing of male sexual exploitation put into rock style. Now it's considered a "classic". I only watch the movie to remember all the wonderful times I had at First Avenue seeing and hearing other styles of music than were portrayed in the film--but listening daily to Prince albums for the years that he was a rising star around the world--at least for a while I listened almost every morning to one of his albums (his earlier stuff, more based on the Minneapolis mentality than a Europigape/LA style which he adapted very quickly and turned into a kind of softened down version of his former, 1982-1984 more hard-edged, critical thinking and questioning normal hypocrisy image and experimental musical style).
"The Art of Noise featuring Duane Eddy--Peter Gun". Art of Noise. March 25, 2016.
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