HOW IT STARTED TODAY:
Documenting business / corporate entities related to what I suspect was long term espionage against me at my place of business in Ashland, Oregon—(The Fox Den). But that is far from the most interesting thing going on here. Read on to continue, but stop for the side-view drawing of Unit 203 that includes a “downward stair” shading that has no visible equivalent from streetside view.
Notice, I inhabited this building in a basement commercial unit space for over 3 years, and I could nevet find out who rented the (clearly occupied) space directly above me.
But they, their high heels, lug-sole boots, rolling chairs, odd knocks and scratches, periodic holes in the ceiling that would leave traces of noxious debris (bioagents) and sometimes seem to even drug drinks and food left in the open, and long periods of intent silences between movements obviously coordinated with my own, made it clear—along with high tech network interference that made my buisiness completely unviable as an actual workshop and brick and mortar—that I was in fact being watched at all hours by some malicious persons in the space directly above me.
I presume that was the intention of renting to me in the first place. But WHY. I document the precedent for hidden architecture—the stuff of haunted castle novels and HP Lovecraft stories—as being a possible defense-surveillance orientation hidden into civic landscapes from Colonial times foregone, and possibly long before.
It could be that architectural evesdropping is the physical codex of the intelligence industry stretching back to nosy servants hovering outside of bedchambers and listening in on dumwaiter chatter from adjoining floors. Read on for more.
I clearly don’t understand the nuances of contract law, but my former Property Management Company (RealWise PM) is likely to be a mediary acting in bad faith, and I suspect that the building is constructed to allow for a dead space that acts as a physical surveillance room situated above my old shop: directly under the square side room of Unit 306, where there appears also to be an odd “step down” and extra staircase added into the design drawings that do not match reality from a streetside view at least, but may indicate the exact position of a hidden staircase or hidden room situated midway through Unit 204 / 306 / 307 / the stairway area itself, being the direct overhead area of operations from my shop’s perspective.
I will remember a couple odd notes as they crop up to me: I assume that what we have here is an esoteric architecture tradition, possibly endemic to intelligence operations and incorporations / survey materials of the Western U.S. but likely spanning the continental history at the very least.
I’m immediately struck by the appearance of Connecticut, a relatively small state of the Union, appearing repeatedly when taking a cursory glance here. I remember long ago a young woman named Rosemary from Connecticut—I never forgot her particular New England styles of terse announciation when profiling accents.
It was what you might call “hardcore old New Engliand”—real Lovecraftian territory.
Of course, the names “Daisy” and “Rosemary” both call to mind esoteric elements in Kubric/Polanski films—but that’s just the kind of tangential synchronicity you come to expect when dealing with broad data sets. There’s no direct relation, although these themes come up frequently:
(i) “Occultists” next door —a common euphamism for clandestine intelligence operations
(ii) Artificial intelligence systems and human-generated cataclysm
(iii) 1886 Santa Clara County vs. the Southern Pacific Railroad—the grandfather of corporate personhood in United States law, and a foothold for Confederate sentiments on economic exploitation by all appearances
The collective unconscious is quite a long-ranging human phenomenology. One day, you look down and see something completely new that has always been there.
These are merely research cooridoors and imply bo direct or indirect accusations. Simply loose associations both historical and contemporary, real and suspected, are noted.
HOW IT IS GOING TODAY:
Oliver Winchester was a 33rd Degree Mason, their highest honor. While not a direct connection, his sister in law Sarah may have been encoding the tradition of esoteric building traditions into quasi-public memory through the use of fortune used to sublimate genuine grief—whether of a Victorian woman deep in the dark nexus of the (still expanding and colonial, Railroad / Civil War /Manifest Destiny era) domestic defense-intelligence complex—or perhaps of genuine sublimation of an ongoing bloodthirst that compelled her and her close associates upon reaching the geographical conclusion of Westering in the Santa Clara region—only to face a vast Pacific suitable only for distant ventures, Canadian/Mexican relations by land and sea, and eventual Arctic/Alaskan incorporation.
(I come from two Masonic grandfathers, for the record, so don’t swat me for speculating.)
