2011/05/19
2011/05/08
I redid the layout of my blog. The old one was nice, but it was a little half assed. So I browsed around and BOOM, new layout.
So, now that I'm done geeking out.
Nothing really strange has been happening. It's quiet and normal and things are going good. My rent is paid, my internet is paid off for the month, my job is going well, and things are nice.
No, I haven't gotten the papers out of the attic. Work has me out all the time. And when I'm not at work, I'm in therapy, expressing my "feelings".
Only, there's been this man. He's tall and always wears the same old business suit. I've seen him before, and lately, he's always been in my field of vision. When I leave the bar, he's there. When I go to therapy, he's there. When I look out my window, he's walking past. When I do anything, he's right. there. all. the. time.
I've called the cops, and they came over a time or two, looked around, shrugged and said there was nothing they could do since he wasn't there. And they left. I've stopped calling it in, and they've stopped caring. Oh, but this man keeps right on creepin' around.
And I don't even know his name.
I think I'll call him... Bob. Bob is nice.
Bob isn't around. Maybe it's because he knows I'm talking about him.
But I swear. I've seen him before.
Like... a few months back when I was going to therapy. He went in to my therapist's office and I was pissed. But when I went in, he was gone. Strange way of disappearing there, Bobbo.
And.
In Germany. With my grandparents. The woods. Wait... there's no way...
No. Of course not. God, I must need sleep.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
So, now that I'm done geeking out.
Nothing really strange has been happening. It's quiet and normal and things are going good. My rent is paid, my internet is paid off for the month, my job is going well, and things are nice.
No, I haven't gotten the papers out of the attic. Work has me out all the time. And when I'm not at work, I'm in therapy, expressing my "feelings".
Only, there's been this man. He's tall and always wears the same old business suit. I've seen him before, and lately, he's always been in my field of vision. When I leave the bar, he's there. When I go to therapy, he's there. When I look out my window, he's walking past. When I do anything, he's right. there. all. the. time.
I've called the cops, and they came over a time or two, looked around, shrugged and said there was nothing they could do since he wasn't there. And they left. I've stopped calling it in, and they've stopped caring. Oh, but this man keeps right on creepin' around.
And I don't even know his name.
I think I'll call him... Bob. Bob is nice.
Bob isn't around. Maybe it's because he knows I'm talking about him.
But I swear. I've seen him before.
Like... a few months back when I was going to therapy. He went in to my therapist's office and I was pissed. But when I went in, he was gone. Strange way of disappearing there, Bobbo.
And.
In Germany. With my grandparents. The woods. Wait... there's no way...
No. Of course not. God, I must need sleep.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
2011/04/29
In the Attic
I finally got around to snooping in the attic. There's a lot of boxes and crap around. Old baby toys, old clothes my mother used to wear. The works. Pictures, but nothing really of importance:
This was some crates of Charles'. His old uniform bag is behind them.
Another box and a suitcase (but I think he used it as a briefcase?)
I think these are the names of the people who used to live in this house. David and Freddy? Not sure about last names, and frankly, I don't care. Nothing really big. I just thought some pictures would help with the "broader spectrum" of the situation.
As I was up there taking pictures (with that lovely crap of a camera on my iPod), I kept hearing strange noises. I'd hear creaking and cracking and banging coming from down the stairs. Though I'm pretty sure the creaking and cracking was me walking on the squeaky wooden floors and stepping in some old, crunchy leaves or wood shavings, but the banging was not me. I know that for sure.
A chill ran down my spine everytime I passed Charles' uniform bag, too.
I'll get around to sorting through the one box with the papers in it soon.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
Edit: I just looked back at a previous post; the boxes that were taken are still missing. They didn't really look important anyways. That old camera and some of Charles' personal belongings, like some pictures and his wallet and knick-knacks like that.
2011/04/12
Another Day
Went to therapy. Went to work. Went home. Attempted the attic again. Passed out again. Woke up a few hours later (and not days, thank god). I'm going to have to get me some different amphetamines ("I'm on speeeeed." - Dr. Wilson, House) or something.
I'm a narcoleptic. It's odd, but hey. For those who do not know: Narcolepsy is a sleeping condition where the person falls asleep in random places, doing random things, at random times. So all of my passing out must be due to the lack of sleep I've been getting.
Or I've been sleepwalking. I've had a history of that, and during that whole episode, my spells came around more often. Possibly just my body reacting to the lack of sleep.
I'm for sure getting a good nights sleep tonight. I have the day off tomorrow. I'm free of work and therapy for one glorious day. Attic cleaning, here I come.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
I'm a narcoleptic. It's odd, but hey. For those who do not know: Narcolepsy is a sleeping condition where the person falls asleep in random places, doing random things, at random times. So all of my passing out must be due to the lack of sleep I've been getting.
Or I've been sleepwalking. I've had a history of that, and during that whole episode, my spells came around more often. Possibly just my body reacting to the lack of sleep.
I'm for sure getting a good nights sleep tonight. I have the day off tomorrow. I'm free of work and therapy for one glorious day. Attic cleaning, here I come.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
2011/03/23
What...?
I woke up today thinking it was February 15th, 2011.
...it's not.
On the 11th, my Internet was cut off because I hadn't paid the bill. It's hard to pay things when you don't have much of a job to go to. So I sold some things (a bike, old computer parts, a lot of things in my garage, some old baby toys in the attic) and I paid my Internet off for the month. Then I went about getting a job.
I felt followed the entire time. Then again, who doesn't when that thing is present in your life.
The 12th. Went to therapy, had a nice talk, went job hunting, didn't have time to get up through those boxes in the attic yet. I know, it's been forever. I need to get up there and work on them, though.
The 13th. Found a job and managed to talk the manager in to letting me work that same day. I'm glad I still know how to mix drinks, yeah? Bartending isn't such a bad job.
The 14th. I remember waking up, going to the attic, opening the first box I saw and finding a camera. It was an old camera and it took actual film. So I opened it.
It was black.
No pictures were on it, I guess. So I put it back.
Then... nothing. I assumed that I just fell asleep. It happens a lot for me.
So when I woke up today laying on the floor of the attic, I figured it was just a new day, the 15th.
It's March 23rd.
A few boxes were gone. Some stuff was scattered, but I only noticed the boxes that were missing. The camera was gone, and everything in that box.
So I have call my work, explain what happened (as best as I can) and get my Internet turned back on (I'm stealing from a neighbor right now).
I'll try to keep updated.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
...it's not.
On the 11th, my Internet was cut off because I hadn't paid the bill. It's hard to pay things when you don't have much of a job to go to. So I sold some things (a bike, old computer parts, a lot of things in my garage, some old baby toys in the attic) and I paid my Internet off for the month. Then I went about getting a job.
I felt followed the entire time. Then again, who doesn't when that thing is present in your life.
The 12th. Went to therapy, had a nice talk, went job hunting, didn't have time to get up through those boxes in the attic yet. I know, it's been forever. I need to get up there and work on them, though.
The 13th. Found a job and managed to talk the manager in to letting me work that same day. I'm glad I still know how to mix drinks, yeah? Bartending isn't such a bad job.
The 14th. I remember waking up, going to the attic, opening the first box I saw and finding a camera. It was an old camera and it took actual film. So I opened it.
It was black.
No pictures were on it, I guess. So I put it back.
Then... nothing. I assumed that I just fell asleep. It happens a lot for me.
So when I woke up today laying on the floor of the attic, I figured it was just a new day, the 15th.
It's March 23rd.
A few boxes were gone. Some stuff was scattered, but I only noticed the boxes that were missing. The camera was gone, and everything in that box.
So I have call my work, explain what happened (as best as I can) and get my Internet turned back on (I'm stealing from a neighbor right now).
I'll try to keep updated.
Adieu,
William A. Gordon
2011/02/10
Number Two
Under my windshield wiper, again. Wet blood. Sharpie. Computer paper.
They're right handed, from the pen marks, the way the lines curve. That's all I have. I've asked around my circle of friends, and no one knows about any of thise.
This is getting old.
Who ever is doing this shit, you better stop before I fucking find you, or else you'll be living the rest of your short life within a tiny, pine box, a mighty dark plot, with a mightly long drop.
William
2011/02/07
Found this.
On my car. Under the windshield wipers. Folded up.
I was approaching my car after a meeting with my therapist, and I was kind of worried about getting a ticket because I had parked in a "No Parking after Blah Hours" zone (and I was well past "blah" hours). So I saw this paper folded up on my car tucked beneath the windshield wipers. I thought it was a ticket, so when I picked it up, I saw it was this.
I'm not sure what it means.
William
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