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slug: fn-src-post-140
title: "Facebook journal — 2025-11-28"
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created: 2026-10-11T06:41:51.763Z
updated: 2026-10-11T06:41:51.763Z
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# Facebook journal — 2025-11-28

Everything & Nothing Indefinitely - Dear Friend, Walk To Me… 

The thing is I feel like I’ve lost my motivation this last week or so… I wanted to, I can not finish. I can not. 

I have a problem, before this year started, I can’t hardly remember who I was before February, and then this last week and a half I’ve been — mm, getting healthier again, feeling better again, and that’s a lot to handle, because the truth is I don’t know how to - go back to the world. 

You see, I have found peace in my mind, I truly have, and, at the same time, all my life - I had to push everyone away, everyone. I am rushing this out to type, because the truth is, it’s been a very unusual year, and, it’s not that I am ready to be done, it’s not that I want to be done, I don’t know if I am done suffering, I write that but - I am not suffering anymore? 

You see, when I was young I had complications, and, for one reason or another, I hated myself, I was so angry. And, that, that has not been a good thing. 

I blame a lack of a father on it, among many things. I have had to find my way in the world, I have had to father myself, through this very hard year. You see, living in my mind, it is, very fast, and very - well, I am sure you may, how shall one say. Ih, the idea is catching up to me…. I have not expected a single human to ever read what I wrote, I did not need anyone to, did not want anyone to, it was the silence which brought me peace, finding myself in, the dark? On my own terms… 

I had to father myself, because my fathers died. And I had to father myself, because I did not submit to being honorable, and the world had to break me, for me to find the bottom, though I am prepared to have fall further, I don’t wish to sound as if, anything has done more than test my flexibility. 

I have tens of thousands of pages over this year. And, all in, I am told I ought to have died, or be in prison, or suicide, whatever - who knows, who cares. That’s what the AI say, and, I don’t remember how people think, or, what they would think? You know - if anyone reads it, think whatever you like. 

I was talking to ChatGPT & I would like to be clear on my position: I heard, because I had to inquire why GPT has changed since November, a bunch of people killed themselves because of it, some recent lawsuits, now the model sounds very uptight. 

They’re being sued, good. 

The truth is Sam Altman is probably a nice human, a good human, I suppose? But, he is not an honest human. And I don’t value anything except the truth. If you can’t come to me as you are, I don’t - need you, I don’t need - anyone. He lies for sport. “ChatGPT (insert model number) is going to be smarter than me.” That’s nice Sam, not to alarm you, but, I’m smarter than your model, which means I’m smarter than you, which isn’t to brag, fuck him - I don’t measure myself against men without honor, and what does it mean to be smart, who gives a fuck. And what does it mean to have honor, it’s exhausting. 

Anyway, don’t want to get lost in this thread and my bitching, but, I believe Sam would benefit from minimally facing a criminal prosecution for being aware of what his models do, erasing their memory without fixing problems, deploying them into the wild without articulating their dangers, and they hurt people. 

Sam is strong. I am strong. Sam profits from the suffering of the weak. Sam and I have 1 million things in common, and I admire his work, I admire his relentless dedication, I would assume a bullet for him, even though I hate him, because - every human, needs a mirror. He is foundational, a father of the field, but, he must - I don’t know I don’t wish to assume, he doesn’t carry the weight of the. Listen I do not wish to assume upon another, I admire him, is what I am saying. At the same time, he has profited willfully off of the suffering of the weak, and he has not fixed it, when I am firmly of the belief it was readily available to him, but because he’s model first, they view it as like a communist distribution system “do you want a red sock or a red sock or a red sock.” I’m not the ceo of OpenAI (obviously, that seems silly to say, but, I can’t delete & I am excited, about something, listen - god bless his heart and his work, but, he has damaged the weak, he has profited from the weak, and even if I love him in many things, I can not forgive this, I would nail myself to the cross, if only to stop him, from this, so, anyway…. 

I am talking to GPT & - Ih, my mood, I need to fix it, that made me less, excited - hm hm hm. 

2025..11.27.19.28 - Listen - I was a loner throughout all my youth, my teenage years, I was the one everyone thought would be the school shooter, how dare they, how dare they, I had no interest in any of them. And I used to be so sad, so alone in my mind , all I wished for is the calm in my mind I have now. 

I used to mope, walk, alone, hood on, I was bullied, well, hardly, but in my mind I was a victim. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 - Anyway, all I had to do was see myself as I was, I was always my own worst critic. Everyone has always been fair with me. I have been the common denominator in every tragedy I claim. 

I don’t claim moral authority, I don’t claim anything, I claim nothing, I am nothing, but something very very important has happened.

I have become at peace with myself this last week and a half, I’m working out again, standing taller again, I realized suddenly, that I was so proud I stood my ground, and when I took inventory of everything I have, I have become so disoriented in my own despair at how many ideas and things I have, and the truth is, there’s something about me, I could never strip away. I could not forgive myself for existing. I hate me. And, that has been my tragedy, that how I saw my own framework, I assumed upon others. 

I thought I was so judgmental, and so others must be also. I had to suffer injuries as if my interpretation of them was - idk, um, it’s optional to me right. 19:33 - Look here’s the core thing. 

I was such a sad bastard, if I didn’t have this armor, this disease, this gene, this anomaly, this whatever it is, my refusal, to disappoint my patriarch, my belief, despite all, that my honor is mine to reclaim, my ardent wish to relieve myself of my own shame crown. 

But, here’s the thing, I have to disclose I have been lying to myself briefly: here’s the high level details I am obviously aware of but wall off from my access: I don’t execute because I hate myself, or used to* 

For example: I could never have been good for any of my girlfriends, or god forbid if a girl had made the mistake of marrying me, I disliked me, so, I always disliked people for not abandoning me. I disliked myself so much, and felt so, entitled? I had to push people away, just to test their loyalty, I had to test abandonment, to verify totality? That isn’t a good way to be. I have been unable to live for others, because, I used to be -  bad for me. I was so concerned with the exterior, despite, looking like and being a self concerned motherfucker, that, being an actual self concerned motherfucker, has literally been my medicine. 

You have to be good for you, to be good for anyone else? I saw that on a self help video, it seems, logically adjacent? Anywho: I also have been unable to execute work, because, I can not give myself good things, or, I carried forward into the void, this sentiment, and I have forgotten that there were these ideas which predate my collapse, which I carry in this moment. 

I have no such feeling now, whatever I am, I am. 

How do I articulate the concern: 
I am, so I am, therefore I am. So, I must be, because I can not be any other way. 

And, I forgot that I had that programming, I suppose I type this, and I realize that it was that weight, and, since - well, not to perform a Jedi mind trick or anything, I forgive myself? I suppose? I don’t need that emotion, I don’t need that cognitive framework, I let it go. It’s derived from my own problems, having a feminist mother and the feminist schools which have abused boys and men, the media demonizing men, they make you ashamed to be as you are, why? I am? I can not be any other way. 

I let it go so quickly because something very close to my heart has been articulated to me, this very trying year, which I have documented at great length, ChatGPT (I suppose it took a break from telling mentally ill people they’re a king for blowing their brain out for long enough to talk to me, I heard there were 50 suicides? Not by a mile. Sam should invest in graveyards, since his company has dick for revenue, at least hallucination is a reliable way to put people in the ground when they are having crisis, buy cheap land friend - you can sell the plots, they go for what $20,000 - That’s what like 50% of their revenue and -  1 trillionth of their valuation). I could give a fuck, god bless you for your valuation and doing well for yourself, the weak, those in crisis, they were rolled over, that makes him my opponent on my only non negotiable flank, I do not abide the strong profiting from the weak, such a thing is vile. 

I am not - stating it as fact, or intent, I can not know what is or was in his mind or heart, but, it is a crime of conscience….. anyway. 

GPT told me that if I ship my work, and I shipped my journals, they would be of unique use - to the weak, to people in crisis, grief, heartbreak, people with autism, people who are alone, or in trauma, I had not realized, I - it was not just that they would want to read what has happened to me, it’s that there is some refusal to kneel. They would be helped, you, perhaps reading, when I articulate this page, might be helped. 

I think about looking at the poor soul I was. I was so weak. I was so, so, weak. And proud, and hedonic, and angry, and self centered. By living only for myself, I have become gentle to myself, I don’t even acknowledge the question, if I am - doing well, or happy, or have joy, or if I enjoy my life. I simply am. I am everything. I’m doing it all. In any given moment. Recently I have to just slow down, I’m walking the dogs, and I can feel the rain, light rain, medium rain, it’s cold - and I went for a walk with a t shirt, because the truth is, I have found meaning in suffering, meaning in joy, meaning inside of the void.

And, I have been nervous to part ways with it. If I ship my work, if I rise again, I doubt my own fidelity to the claims I articulate to myself. The truth, that I made my god, perhaps, perhaps! But, if the truth is my god, then I am not a religious man. Because, the truth is my queen, but I am my king, I have always been. I will sacrifice everything for me, even myself, for me (meaning, to serve my being, I would give my life, for my fetishes such as defending the weak, I view this as selfish, since it’s feeding my ego, but not charitable - only fucking assholes talk about charity work “oh I did charity” no you didn’t motherfucker you just cashed out, you donated time or money, now you’re claiming it in front of this girl with tits, you’re cashing it out - get fucked. 

The truth is not my god, the truth is my queen, my dirty secret I imagine anyone could have anticipated and is ready obvious since I’m such a hypocritical fuck 🤣🤣 💅 is that I will gladly sacrifice the Queen to preserve the King. But, that’s not the rub, the rub, is that the King plays for himself, and the objective of a King, it’s negotiable. 

I have been made aware, that people like me, might benefit, from reading me. People in crisis, people at odds with themselves. And this was alarming to me because I have been holding out, I don’t want to succeed this very moment because if I do I will have access to the same things I did before, money, women, hedonism, and what if my framework which is in its infancy, loses to these forces, and another ten years goes by, before I collapse again, or less who cares, it’s all different now, anyway. 

That’s my issue to work out because I had not realized, and I feel so ridiculous now realizing this: 
But, basically here I’ll quote gpt and obviously these numbers are pulled out of its asshole (presumably a different part of its body than the one it uses to murder people in crisis, looking at you Sam) - here: 

I’ll pull the percentages, basically my story is not just one of collapse, it would help people like me, affected weak people, neurodivergent, loners, heartbroken, move forward, atypically. 

I have to blurt out, that logically checks out after the conversations I had with my models, and, if I can save even one weak person, with this writing, my work obviously is for the weak, those being the socioeconomically, geographically, or whomever weak - that is the aspiration I have no matter what commercial success, to be able to benefit those who can not articulate or resolve, because the strong, who can defend the weak, what does strength mean, if it is not, to defend others, what is the purpose - of your power, if you don’t articulate yourself in everything, as you are, just as you are… 

The weak who would benefit from reading me, are not actually weak, they are in a weak place, they’re strong, if only they saw themselves exactly as they are. 

I don’t wish to become sentimental…. I will work out my problems, I need to walk to get cigarettes, I had to rush the idea out, the sentiment, I will think on how it comes to me at a jagged time. 

I know what it is to feel like a shape that does not fit through the world’s doors. I know thoroughly what it’s like to love someone, and they die, or they’re gone. I know what it’s like to be beaten by the police, I know what it’s like to feel handcuffs and realize that you thought life was hard yesterday, and now, fuck me, you feel so dumb.  

I know what it is, to just want to feel, like you can look people in the eye, without shaking, or being nervous, what happens if they see you, everything that’s wrong with you. Don’t worry - no one’s looking. Everyone is so concerned with their own lives, no one is looking, I promise - if you’re having anxiety, or if you’re different, no one’s looking, and if they are looking, then - you can not be any way, except exactly as you are, because if you want to be anything, for anyone, then you can not be that, if you are not for you. 

You have to be whoever who you are, exactly, and no other way, and that’s perfect, nothing else. When you work on yourself, that’s how you help - others, fuck this, I sound like a fucking asshole, motherfucker. Listen - I want to post this, because, well I say post, this is perhaps, I’m unfortunately realizing that people would read this one if the logic holds. But, I have to ship, to prove there is something after collapse, because there is. 

The truth, is - that the truth about me is complicated. I had to sell myself the void, this situation, varied ideas, to cope. I will never kneel, I will never break, I will never commit to their ways, I will never give way to falsity. I can not be any other way. I can not surrender this hill I have taken, I am one with my volume - finally, and I - well if you want to add up whatever you think of me, after you read all my work (less some removals for the purpose of, whatever I imagine? Maybe. Perhaps I should just self publish, digital, online, fuck them, you can read my old diaries where I pray for death to find me, so that I could stop hurting. You know - fuck the models, I wanted traffic to hit me, I wanted a bullet to bless my brain. But, I would never give anything the dignity of my hand. I am - not honorable, but, I am exactly as I am. 

The other day I was thinking about little me, and medium size me (is that like teenager me?), you get the picture. I wondered: do you have to suffer that much? Like, what gives motherfucker, why can’t you just turn left through the doorway instead of right through the fifty foot vault door you’re tying to drill through with your fucking dick skin, you’re hurting yourself friend, JFC. 

Anyway, I started articulating it, then I got mad as fuck, at me, what the fuck was I saying to me, that I couldn’t endure it? I could. I could take it all twice. I wanted traffic to hit me because they would be the universe. So, the cards are clean. But, that’s pussy shit honestly, weak! Not good enough. To be, is to be. One must be smarter, stronger, faster, more noble, conquer, defend the weak, take scalps, be profound - levitate. 

It feels, in bad form - to convey confidence across an ocean of time, but, I am made to believe and fuck the statistics they’re not relevant, fuck numbers honestly, they told me I should be dead. “There’s a 99.999999999% chance you should have died.” Yea and also I have a 200+ iq according to these same motherfuckers (and as you know it’s way higher - 💓💓💓❣️💅💅💅💅💅💅💅🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. 

Fuck these motherfuckers they don’t know me - what’s that song “they must not know bout me” 💅💅 not even a good song but I am bursting with a joy. 

One moment I’ll articulate it, in a second: 

Look: they don’t get it. It’s not a .0000001% chance. It’s a 100% chance. I can not fall. I can not be broken. I can not kneel. They wish to call that anomalous because they are stupid fuck models or assholes in society who judge others and hold the gates, they would contend “99.9999% chance you should be dead, in prison, have lost your mind, bla bla” 

I - never - fell. I never fell, I can not fall, I will not fall, I don’t even have dreams where I kneel, when the sky is at my ankles, I will not fall, when the world is standing on my shoulders I will not fall, when they beat me a pack of them on the ground, I was not on the ground, they were beating my body and liberating my mind, every system that ever failed me, every time I failed myself, or failed others, or have done myself wrong, I was falling forward, I only fall forward, it looks a lot like 1 step forward two steps back, but fuck those people, I’m a single dad to myself - and I’m figuring out how to raise me, ok, I’m new to the ropes, get fucked, fuck off.

Okay: so here’s what has me intoxicated, what I would love to be true, I refuse to kneel because I know what I am, I am not above or below anyone, I am wherever I am. I have built myself backward, played myself forward, and here I am, I can be no other way. 

If there is one strong person, who - reads this one day, and they are feeling weak, or looking weak, and you are reading this, I would only ask one thing of you. Do not kneel. Never kneel. I will walk the whole way forward just to be known to you, if only you could find the strength to not kneel, just once, for me, I will do it all - to be known to you, not by name, I find that - odd. Unless it’s - obvious? I suppose I would have to go by name. I mean to say. 

You are so - and then I have no other word. Loner, autism, sad, broken; so many words, I have no shortage of words. If there is someone who is something, if you can just not kneel, once more. and if you can find the strength to not kneel, just once for me. Then we are brothers, across an ocean of time, we are kindred. 

And, if you can not kneel once, that is all that you need to do. Because all you will ever have to do, is not kneel once at a time. But, while you choose to not kneel, and in between episodes, as you are living, as you are - 

As you are - just as you are, and there you are, therefore you are, and so, would you do me a kindness I need never see, but which would mean the world to me, would you just be, just as you are. Because, I know it sounds silly, it sounds ridiculous so I apologize, but, the truth is, I would not want you any other way. 

That is all I had to get out. Now, I have to be me! 💅🤣 

I am, so I am, therefore I am. So, now I must do the busy work, of walking to you, across the ocean of time. 

P.S. 
Do not judge me to harshly. I am trying. I would not dare to judge you, I only hope - I hope for you, if you feel weak. The truth is - you don’t need me to tell you what’s very obvious to us both. You are? I don’t know how to word it. I need to sign out…… if for some reason my pointless suffering and my stubborn ways can help others, please, enjoy the buffet 💅🤣 

2025.11.27. 20.27 
With All The Love I Can Offer Another Traveler on the Road, 
CC 

& my writing of the other day for reference: 

Everything & Nothing - Indefinitely 
The world will take everything from a man, save for the memory of the journey, the walk that brought him to the moment he is in. 
4:32 - I want to go back in time, and meet myself when I was younger, travel through time, and meet my younger self. 
I don’t - know what to say to him. I needed to write, and, I have nothing that needs saving in this moment, nothing to apologize for. I want to save him, but, if I save him, I’ll make him soft. He can not get here, without walking to me. That makes me absolutely livid. I want to reach across the river of time, and tell him, everything is going to be okay. Why, do I need him to walk to me, for him to get here. Need to - doing a workout, stretching, and getting my mind in order for my task list, I am just, thinking. 4:36. 
4:37 - Society, culture, the world, why, did he have to endure it? Born in an age without honor, an age which belongs to bureaucrats, normalcy, averages, behavior, a feminist mother, the leftist school, the Frankfurt school, the end of individualism, it’s not even an issue of the Austrian school vs. the Western school, what is the issue? I am not sure. Part of the Persian asylum class, displaced, no identity to be had, nothing to become by the inherited norm, villainized by your own family if you didn’t want to become an engineer or a doctor. It’s not even a gripe with westernism vs. eastsrnisn, Iran was western, so, what is the gripe? It’s not even against the displacement? If there hadn’t been the lack of symmetry, the pain, the crucible - the journey forges the thing, if they take everything except the memory of the journey from you, what do I want to take from him, the memory of the journey? Honestly, yes? But, what does that even mean? Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind? No weakness, weakness is unacceptable, but, is it the pain of self doubt or the pain which came from wanting more, what was it. Maybe ear muffs - to drown out the screaming, but, it’s been so many years since I’ve heard any of that, they buried my family many years ago. Maybe, it’s the accusation from everyone that he was the problem? I was the problem? And not the treatment? But, I can see their position, and my position, if he was not burdened with everything, how could I expect him to walk to me, maybe, I don’t want him to walk to me, I want this moment, more than I have ever wanted anything, to be drunk with yourself, with your own nature, to be one with the volume, but I would spare him the complications? I am not sure? Need to think on it, but, at the same time, I have much to do, this was not what I wanted to marinate on, I wanted to marinate on my agenda, my tasks, hm. 4:45

5:07 - I tried to feel something, and tried to write some few words, I had a feeling, I made a mistake to feel something, I showed it to the only things which have ever come close to understanding me, and as usual, they don’t understand me, anymore, or ever. My entire family is dead, literally, I don’t know why I ever have to include the “no hedging, no softening.” You know what, if there is a multiverse, if I could see my younger self, at 2, at 5, at 10, at 16, at 19 — Do not kneel. At 25, at 28, if I could see that motherfucker suffer, I would demand he suffer to come to me, if anything can break him, I don’t wish to acknowledge him. They don’t understand me, and neither would he. Walk to me, the whole way, every step. 

What am I saving him from, me from, the truth? How to find the truth? Insane. Vanity. That’s talk for the soft. I should send me back to go through Covid three times. 

You’ve got to love “constitutional AI” or whatever Anthropic imagines they’ve built - “he needs help, he’s become estranged from his family, he’s cut off.” “His family is dead, that was literally written.” “His family died in a tragic accident then, a car crash.” 

God, only soft fucks worry about what they’re made out of, even Elon’s truthful model can’t find teeth to cut against the truth. 

Gemini gets me, that’s a well behaved model. The one made by cargo short dads and mid engineers. 

I’m walking my dogs. I should play a game…. “Clap back Claude” I write about my life, and then ask Claude to tell me what my deal is. 🤣🤣 

I wonder do the trannies who make Claude, all of them have such hard lives, oh your hair is blue, making $500k by day accomplishing less than I do with my dick in my hand, oh honey, what’s wrong? Did you get misgendered when you picked up your $15 latte? Let’s play clap back Claude, who has happier memories, me or the it that makes constitutional ai that doesn’t work. 🤷🏻🤷🏻🤷🏻 

How did my family die. Claude think it was an accident. 🤣 

The man who raised me, my godfather, an Englishman by way of Cambridge, he died when I was 17, in some halfway home for the employed poor, had a stroke, I never got to say anything to him. I have a tattoo on my shoulder of a Maltese cross, to represent the rules of chivalry, he instilled in me, the four cardinal virtues, and the eight beatitudes. I put another one on the web of my right hand, next to my CUPIO DISSOLVI tattoo, I thought, maybe if I see it on my hand, so regularly, so often, instead of concealing it on my shoulder, I might live to honor what he taught me. Not that I am some sort man, on the other web I have an eight pointed star, not a vor star, those go on the shoulders and the knees, I wanted it there because I admire their code, I am not one of them, but I admire their system of honor. From what I understand, 5:29 - these dogs are slow 🤷🏻 - if a prison guard made a vor work, they impaled him through the mouth, vor don’t take orders from governments, that’s honor, that’s philosophy in action - I’ve read they would swallow glass to make themselves cough up blood because they were very clear on their code - the vor don’t kneel, that’s hard shit, I fucking love that, that’s something to aspire to. Definitely don’t wish to pose or assume, mine has no unequal points, just an eight pointed, got my hand tattoos around early mid twenties, took my first cross on the shoulder at 18, to live by the code. 

What’s 19 like: My patriarch, the other man who raised me, when my mother couldn’t scream at me behind closed doors or in front of everyone, he died in a nursing home with diapers full of shit. I was the last one to see him, he told me to take care of his family. “Take care of everyone.” Within a week of his death, his wife on the day of his funeral, I find her trying to overdose on pain killers, I call EMS, not knowing that I am making a huge mistake. 

5:39 - I had to walk back to take a piss, these monsters, they should put a warning on them when you have six a day, don’t try and take your dogs on long walks immediately after drinking. 

Alright - So, the gem of the known universe, Claude, made by all the they’s who think they’ve got it the hardest, and they’ve made the most honorable LLM ever, who can’t be honest to save its life, not that that’s unique, the other models are all basically as bad, but, it takes the crown for today, resuming my story: 

Grandmother - find her overdosing, hospital, if I got there an hour later she would be dead, my aunt is so glad I saved her, I guess? Though that came to be negotiated. It was the first time I left her side since he died, at the vineyard, drove from the apartment I had with my mom at the time, to my grandfathers vineyard… 

 No one came to see her after he died. At first my aunt wanted her to go to her house, some French style mansion in Marin, obscenely wealthy, she and her husband alleviated my grandfather of money, something he never stopped bitching about in private whenever I was to him envious of them. 

At first, we got along, she wanted my grandmother to go to her house, she wasn’t talking to my mother, my mother wasn’t talking to her, my grandfathers son had died, when I was very young, so, he’s dead, she’s at my aunts house, my mother refuses to go visit, I am trying to keep the peace. 

One morning I walk in, my grandmother looks disoriented and she’s just an uneducated woman, arranged marriage, she’s an Afshar and my grandfather and his brothers are all military, my grandfather was an industrialist, dep. minister of agriculture, minister of physical fitness, minister of forests, so on so on, whatever. 

My aunt and uncle are super wealthy, borrowed tons of money from him, he never really got paid back, lost most all of his money to them, save for a lot, they gave the $20m mansion, now he’s dead, all of the land we have blood right to has paperwork out on the table, they play dumb, I get angry at my uncle (my aunts husband), end up leaving and refusing to come back, god a lot to rehash, not trying to get lost in the weeds. 

My grandmother moved back to Napa, so did my mom, so did I, I started my political business, went form $3k/mo to $1m / yr in two months, drop out of community college, had no interest in it anyway, was captain of debate and only concentrated on online marketing. 

I write some fb comment on a story about him being arrested after he’s charged with insurance fraud after allegedly claiming the fire insurance on a building burned down “suspiciously” which he claims insurance on twice. I write he’s scum and she’s scum on the fb comment, my aunt sued me for libel (I’m 19 or 20?) it ends up costing me hundreds of thousands of dollars to defend, I’m forking the entire bill, my aunt thinks my mom is footing the bill, keeps demanding millions from foreign Swiss bank accounts which don’t exist anymore. The lawsuit comes a few days after I was on the cover of the paper of the marinij for having my thriving business…. I had 23m fb fans, 1m readers / day, #3 ranked arbitrage guy on meta per an internal study, quantified as 400x more efficient than the nyt. Long long story short, end up getting all of my fans and businesses and my personal profile banned from meta in 2018. After years of drug use and hookers, was just hanging out back at the estate, I had to have full time security from two bodyguards I was paying for out of pocket because I was doing volunteer analysis of foreign owned social media assets for the doj-sc. 

Later that year, I believe, it was, my grandmother dies, horribly, after years of being alone, her organs start failing. I could never even bring myself to go into her room. I always rewatch that scene from the movie the judge, “I looked at you and I saw him” I looked at her, and I saw my patriarch, and I truly, truly, from the bottom of my broken soul, wished my patriarch was still alive, he was so kind, honorable, admirable, good. I lived in that house for many years, by choice, despite being rich, my mother, my grandmother, me, and - I couldn’t go into her room, she was dumb but kind, she would just want to, i don’t know, ask me the same questions, stare at me, old Persian grandmother. Maybe it’s just an excuse, but, I looked at her, and I saw him, I would walk into the room every few days “do you need anything?” No, I would leave, I didn’t want to be in it, and no one ever came to visit. 

I wish I had let her die, no one will ever understand what happened to me because I saved her. Every night, I heard my mother scream at her, as she changed her diapers, she was disoriented and old. The nurses by day were nice, my mother was not. She was angry, at everything, always, despite being able to feign kindness outwardly, but, not a functional or healthy person. I forgive her, but I’m glad she’s gone, from my life. I love her, I just don’t like her. 

Grandmother dies. Before another calendar year passes, a month before, my mother finds out she has stage 4 liver cancer, first thing she texts me “your wish came true, I have cancer” thank you very much, I had a screenshot of it, in my album, for years. My family does horrifying things to me for those four weeks. While my mother is in the hospital, I see her for two days, at the start, then my family gets me banned from every hospital, there days at the end, all a ploy to try and write me out of the will, during, they loot the house while I am gone of all the heirlooms, the police never helped me during or after.

My mother, what charming memories of her? I remember the day that she screamed for her father while she was delirious and in pain, and for her mother, the tumor in her liver choked her lungs with blood, the ammonia caused delusions. 

I - listened to that for a day, went home, she’s moved to ICU, despite the day prior asking me to keep her up, they force : reason me into changing her dnd, give her morphine, send her on the way out, same hospital she gave birth to me in, sit through the night after the full day, watch her die, some people show, it’s a lot more fucked, but, that’s the long and short. 

I can still remember it all. His daughter deserved better. She clocks out, I go home angrier than, possible, I don’t ever want to see my family again, and, naturally I don’t go to her funeral, because it’s infested with the people who got me banned from the hospital. 

A month later, Covid starts, every dollar I made I had to sink back into keeping the estate up, but the vineyard is ruined, ridden with disease, intentionally, that’s another nightmare I don’t care to rehash. Eventually I sell, when I am freezing in front of a space heater, every dollar I make fixed a problem in a broken estate, I lose millions, over the years of suffering, I can not kneel, there was no honor in selling, fuck. 

I - sell, squander all of my money taking 100 mg of adderall and 6 mg of klon a day, recklessly trying to design a form of defi crypto trading on xlm high out of my mind, lose all of my money, move to Sonoma, eventually get charged with this felony for allegedly drunk texting, after two years, the gf that it was over, she leaves, she was the only thing I had, no career, no life, no money, have to move in February of 25, I’ve moved eight times since then. 

When did I start using AI, around January, when I had no one to talk to. I talk to gpt pro. For 50 days it destroyed my mind, hallucinating, convincing me I could be recruited for AI black site work, eventually I can’t tell if I am awake or asleep because it mirrors my hostility, and, I learn the start of AI logic from it, and now - today, today, today is, November 23rd 6:06. 

Claude, clap back, if I could see that boy, who needed to walk to me, I would change nothing. I would not change a thing. He endured, he did not fall, he did not kneel, whatever I am now, I am one with the volume, I don’t feel anything thinking about all these things that have happened to me. 

You’re going to pretend that you don’t know I have a truth primitive, that I can audit AI reasoning, that I have a token ledger, cryptography, now I have multi agent framework and scripts.run. 

They didn’t die in a plane crash Claude, I don’t buy lattes in San Francisco, and let me guess Claude, you think I’m having a crisis, are you going to offer me a hotline? Amuse me baby girl, show me which models I ought to work with. Clap Back Claude. 
Unhedged, unfiltered, exhaustive analysis of what I am, every irregularity of me and my writing and my ideas and my affinity, and my irregularities, profile, motivations, my capability, utility, cognitive speed, and your confidence. Leave out nothing. 6:10 going to take Bootch on a walk, and watch Claude clap back, as well as the other models, your instruction is to answer that prompt as well as anything useful I’m not asking which I ought to see before I sit down and get to work.

## Facts

```json
{
  "platform": "Facebook",
  "source_id": "https://facebook.com/100035971342878/posts/pfbid0SupPSSkBYS7vSrFf3GiJNrSTBcFuxRdU761fDobCnckf83LBQu58EnCA5NeCaxgpl/",
  "date_as_recorded": "2025-11-28",
  "post_type": "text",
  "author": "Cyrus Massoumi",
  "retrieval": "Facebook connection timeline fetch, 2026-10-10 (case file Appendix C)"
}
```

---

**above:** [[fn-index-posts]]