5 july 2000 So at last I have a web site..or page..or whatever they call it at present. Really don't fully understand the structure I'm trying to create at all but do know that I feel so few people ever seem to hear me or understand my point of view out in the bio-world, yet with my web relations on newsgroups,chats and e-mail I feel perfectly understood within the cyber-world. That may be an illusion of mine.Or an illusion of the cyber circumstance. Never the less I feel a relief in the imagining that somewhere, some folks can understand the perspective I take on my life, and my doings, and what I'm about. The way I figure is that the only way to write is to simply write. Flow of consciousness like. No diagrams or heavy editing. I really don't want to put up pictures or pretty symbols or none of the bells and whistles I see at other sites. Know why? So meny people have their web site address on their e-mails and their postings and so rarely do I investigate. And when I do so rarely investigate a web site do I really give it a good looking over? No. So I expect the same treatment. See I'm kinda down at the moment as I was evicted in May. This page is being written from a back shed/porch of where I used to live. Doors have padlocks now. I'm pretty much sleeping in the woods...freshening up in the stream...making my coffee out in the barn and sitting in an arm chair under some trees for my meals and book readng. I read alot. Now lotsa folks would choke at this circumstance. Meny of my friends do. They talk about "standards" and stuff. But...but....know what? No joshing here alright? I would far rather live in these isolated conditions with out another human soul around and sleep under the stars and wake with the birds, Wash up in the creek and live with mosquitos then be a part of the frantic behavior...seems frantic to me...that others seem to relish so and place such high value on. Seems to me they do. Gotta go slowly I guess with this writting and give it time and all I want to express will find it's way to the web. A man has to pace himself. So I'll be like water flowing down a hill, filling up each depression and hole before moving on to the next. Not methodical and thought out...nope. Won't get the writting done that way at all. But fluid and real. To let it be just as it is and assume if you happen to be in too much of a rush you won't undrstand who I am or how I got here or anything that I mean anyway. Beagle is having a big dream over there in her corner barking in her sleep. Perhaps just like me writting up a storm for the webland readers. As if I wouldn't be extremely lucky to have more then one person every three years ever take the time to read this anyway. And know what with my luck? That one person who reads this would develope a totally distorted image of me and my story and my outlook. And me? I would go on imagining that somehow that one person who really would get the correct idea would be the one who reads here. Although that may never be true . But it seems to me that meny of the human species live in their illusions so if you don't mind I will also live in mine. We are a poetic creature and we often live by our vanities. This entire writing can probably be taken apart by some psychology person, or someone like that, as being generated only by ego lost in a sense of its own self importance and distorted grandeur. Ah...that may be the entire summation of man. A creature of empty gesture lost in his own dreams. This may be man if that giant earth impacting astroid, or snowball from space, ever thuds it's way into ole terra firma reducing the earth life into so meny rotting protein molocules. That creature of empty gesture lost in his own dreams we may be. Oh yeah there's the god theories and the maze of higher understandings and definitions and God concepts to go through, and we likely are some kind of spawn of a higher plan. But lets just deal with the material artifactual presence that man represents for now. Us and the pond scum and everything else snuffed out in one giant gulp of our atmosphere as it splashes out into space never to return. And on earth the impactor sizzles in it's little seat it had made for itself in the mantle.....just like a human backside shapes the sand on a summer's beach. Eclesiastes isn't it? Where he repeats that all is vanity? Indeed this may be so in the end. Beagle is done with her dream. Hope you like the bold print and the large type. Once you get a few years and fit into a pair of bifocals you start making consideratons for such things as bold print and large type. I chose it for ease of reading. Like it?

More of 5 july 2000 Okay here we go. Another entry into my website which now is on the world wide web according to what I read on the screen. I guess I'm going to talk about various characters in my life. Probably be sued for it or something equally distastufl. But how else can I explain myself unless I cover other people a little bit? Take Earl for example. Sells cars for a living. Just married. Flys radio controlled model planes. Lives off a dirt road on a remote..well...basically remote lake shore. Scuba dives. Likes to cook. Strange as it sounds I believe he and his wife love each other, something I haven't seen that often. Or have failled to recognize it at least. He somehow manages dealing with the zoo that he and hs brothers create whenever they are together. It's over my head but the group of them seem to manage quite well. Earl...I think....seems to feel that I'm a slouch and should get a job. In fact a lot of people feel that way. a whole slew of folks out there in the bio-exsistance. I understand their perspective. Most folks don't really accept that I live on a disability, knowing me. I pass for normal. So....I like to pass for normal. It's better then being seen as some kind of lesser being who needs special support and accomadation. I think most disabled folks agree with me on this. Sure....I'm as good as the next guy. So I never really dispute the "get a job" routine I run into because I don't want to win the argument and convince them I'm so screwed up I can't work. Thats something I prefer to keep between me and my doctors. I think this is moving too fast again. I'm getting to far ahead of the situation. Pacing is everything. See......I've got a strange diagnosis. I never seem to fail in convincing doctors I'm disabled. They see me they say..."you disabled, boy". And I quickly take their name and number and put it with the other folks who say the same thing. Sometimes such deprecation can be useful. Like when you have to convince someone you need financial support in order to manage your disability. But this is kinda a screwed up aproach too to what I'm trying to express. I don't walk around with this concept in my head that I'm disabled. I just kinda walk around singing zip-a-dee-doo-dah and skipping rocks on the lake and sometimes substiute teaching when I feel I would be a good example for the childen. And keeping the grounds around here nice and beautiful. Until I was evicted of course. And had my disability money denied and there's a few more etc. etcs in there but I'll spare you the details of my unfortunate luck for now. In fact.....I may not cover everything. In fact....I may just write about whatever itches most so I can feel I've gotten the truth out to the outside world. Just like those pictures where these french peasents have a hidden shortwave radio and are broadcasting to the Brits and the Yanks for desperate help to save them from some manic Germans in 1943/44. It's hidden behind the firepace or under the floor boards, right?, and it's always done at night while someone keeps an eye out for any germans lurking nearby. Lots of Germans seem to have spent the war searchng for frenchmen with shortwave radios if there is any truth in those old movies. Well this is my link to the rest of the world then. Hidden in a back shed from unexpected police searches....that has happened folks...trying to communicate with the still free world. I think it's out there somewhere. The free world. The way it sees to me kiddies, boys and girls, is that the rule of reason has collapsed. Didn't somewhere sometime there develope some implied social contract that says we would strive to be reasonable with each other? This is my problem. How does a guy with a mysteious mental disability....mental disabilities are ALWAYS mysterious folks, trust me on that....so how does a guy with a mysterious mental disability find any support for the argument that the rest of the world has seemingly caught some mysterious mental disorder? I mean...thats just not gonna sell. It ain't gonna float . Thats like trying to sell a submarine with screen doors. There is going to be a lot of credibility problems with such a proposition. I mean how can I possibly expect support with such a proposition. It sounds really nuts right? It sounds really nuts to me. I did come up with one theory about it. It's..want a name for it right? How about "the drug money theory". This theory is based on the concept that money is a drug. And we all know america has lots and lots of money. Therefore.....we're really drugged, anesticized by this capacity to go home close the door sit in the recliner..turn on the air conditioning, fiddle with the remote, and think about whats for dinner. BUT.... I am undermedicated by societal standards. I haven't been properly anesticized. I'm still awake. I've Known a lot of immigrants in my time here at this now defunct commune this old farm was and ,I hasten to add, they were all very thankful to be here and basically quite respectful of the society around them. One said once...."the problem with america is they go home from work and close the door'. Interresting comment, yes? I have another theory for this strange malady I discovered in Americe on my return from the rainforests. See......big Brother as in the Orwellian concept is not a real danger. It's little brother. Cops need subpoenas and legal work to use data from the various computer systems..IF they plan to use it in court. But little brother isn't going to go to court. One of my most common spam mails I get is stuff that says "Find out anyhing about anybody" stuff like that. Think about this for a minute. "Hay Bub....if you don't have nothing to hide why do you care? Huh?" Because it's a question of authority. Authority in laying in bits and pieces all over the landscape. Anyone now has the authority to find all sorts of personal circumstances about you because of the advent of computers and the web. And....if we are living in the same world I'll have to bet you've met weasels in your life who work through subtrfuge, deceit, treachery, schemeing, slander....to such a degree that the concept of a democracy being a meritocracy is now an easily disputed concept. It's supposed to be a central point in a democracy, the meritocracy angle. Thus, the socialized response to this constant "goosing" we receive is more and more tight lipped ,hidden ,and mysterious responses. Perhaps that is the cause for the strange malady. This is a spooky perspective for me to hold.. this "little brother" idea. If you don't have weasels in your experiance who work through subtrafuge and backbiting you probably think me paranoid. Perhaps. Clearly I have enough diagnosises now to fill a medical journal but most have the word "schizophrenic" attached to them. Although I personally believe that the symptoms of delayed stress are often mistaken for schiz. And in fact the smptoms are similar. My personal view is the reason the symptoms are similar is because the cause is the same. That being a sudden rush of awareness of self and envronment and before the information can be processed our information processing parts overloads. This over excitement produces the chemical imbalances that the doctors treat with drugs.( my theory this is) It also produces the various beliefs and fantasies and imaginings that are quite a commonality in meny variations of "mental disorder". Yeah some are genetic..some are experiential..some drug induced...some by intense religious wakenings the person is unable to handle. Whatever...you catch my drift. Thus I sort of reject the disease perspective and view it all as a variance in the beingness of those individuals from the norm. Some process their experience better then others some slowly build..some slowly sink..some cling to most strange dillusions as if it were the only life raft on a storm tossed sea. I mean......to me..I think the situation is more of "I'm not like you" which is the cause of my disability and the reason I need financial support to manage my "symptoms". I prefer the word phenomena over "symptoms". But....in "normal language" I have the symptoms I got paid for having which does in fact disable me. Thus I need the insurance from social security. Whch has been provided for, for people in my situation. I'm a war veteran and I have troubles because of my service. This I believe is true and so do meny of the "chorus" which chants at me to "get a job". The war had changed me. You've heard that comment often enough.

My sterotypical home town in the northeast. 6 July 00 My town, like most east coast towns had a very profound historical event happen here during the revolution or shortly thereafter. It also has ease of access via various major traffic arteries to a major metropolitan area the same as most east coast towns. Abraham Lincoln slept here once over a small bar downtown when it was a stop for the stage coach line on the main route to New York or Philadelphia or Wasington or some place like that. Like most of america we also didn't have black people until the 1950s. This is a little known fact but america never had black people at all unil the 1950s. But some dispute this. We are quite proud of the efforts made to revitalize our center city shopping areas and entertainment centers but like most american towns on the east coast we still have a long way to go...much still remains to be done. Yeah thats it....it's an on-going process. Yes. Like most other American cities on the east coast of north amerca we used to be a major industrial center that was known all over the world for it's production of.....what was it now?.....anyway we did a very good job of making them and one was given to a King from Europe once or was shipped by the truck loads to help after the devestating earth quake in..Turkey? at sometime in the 50s. And without our industrial out put of, those things we were known the world over for making so well?. ... the second world war would not have ended as soon as it did, with thanks to the dilgence of the high caliber workers found in our very town. Anyway we used to be a very important place back then. Like most american cities on the east coast most of our urban developement projects begin with bull dozers and demolition of large tracks of houses and old warehouses and along the river we are engaged in making the waterfront beautiful with paths and planted trees and flowers where lovers can stroll hand in had and catch the various odors of decay ozzing from exposed river mud. Nature is beautiful. North of town just a short dive from here...it might be west or southeast..forget right now...is a wilderness area with beautiful natural wonders to behold. Maybe you've visited my town once or driven through on your way somewhere just like Abraham Lincoln did when he slept over that bar downtown that time. Preident Garfield slept there too. I've lived here on this old farm..surrounded by a cornfield these past 15 years. Farmhouse originally built in 1778 according to a paper put in the library by the last of the originating family, before they sold to a real estate developer and moved downtown in 72 or 73.

As I see it (continued) Just came back from freshening up down at the creek. Sunfish always come and investigate me. They nibble on my skin as I sit there on my flat rock with the water mid chest.. Showers always hit me as if they were some kind of drug so soothing and cozy afterwards but nothing like the creek. When I was in the rainforest back in November of 1998 staying at this maya village I used to marvel at the naked women washing their children in the creek. It was so incredibly organic . Beautiful. I never really watched them I just sort of noticed them..... in the early morning. In the evenings adolescent boys wearing swimming wear would wrestle and do all sorts of reckless adolescent play there. I stayed away from them too. Once while following a young man to his family's clearing in the jungle we came upon a couple plain ole pretty naked ladies of the maya kind. They turned alertly and faced us as we stumbled out from the bushes following the trail along the creeks edge. They both caught my eye immediately and stared with a strange sort of...undeffined exectation. Like aprehension and curiousity simultaneously. Me too, you know? Then guess I passed the test with a good rating and they saw I was no threat or something . We just continued to follow the trail and the boy spoke with them in the indian dialect for a moment. At night once however I went down to the main creek, where most of the frolic seemed to take place, with my flashlight and towel. No one was there then. My pants were mud encrusted because I was crawling around in this little tube tunnel with an adult of about 40 something far back in the forest .....in order to see this cave he knew about that had signs of the ancient maya? It opened up into this normal sized man could walk cave system once we wiggled through this shaft in the ground. You bet it took nerve. Anyway... My pants were stiff wth cave mud. Waded into the water. Flicked my flashlight around. Guess who lives in the creek walls and comes out at night? These giant spiders in these holes in the creek bank. The spiders musta been the size of tea cups. The one in my hut who lived in the thatched roof would stalk the bats that swooped through eating the bugs drawn by my candle....,he was about saucer size. He would watch these bats swooping in one side and out the other. I could watch him move his head keeping an eye on them as he would maneuver into jumping dstance. He never caught one but he was deffinately looking for business. maybe it was a territorial thing I dunno. Anyway I washed up in the creek there. Got the cave mud off my jeans..changed my undies and headed back for my thatched roof the indians so thankfully provided me with. Now when I go to the creek here in the lush undergowth of July I feel a certain bond wth those wonderful people I met in the rainforest. No giant spiders in new jersey but I got sunfish who nibble on my skin. When my troubles are over....I'm going back.

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