Seeing Through my Schism, I, Point of Origin, Within my Vantage of Flux.

Ugh! Nearly bedridden for twenty years within some contextual prescription of new schizoaffective disorder medication therapies, waiting, told degenerative, incurable and yet said somehow stable. Thus, I haven’t disassociated into multiple people yet, though computer aided communications pertaining to my thesises throw pages of web outward. I am a legion. Still, it’s apparent that despite command of my fantastic theorems here I am thought unapproachable. I need you. I need to concentrate with you as I break and fade into the shadows of truths unverifiable by my superior doctors, into shadows of lore and places been and seen, so often in books lost, stolen, illegal. I have a wild geospatial fantasy from the oasis shores of Tripoli to Dune like desert worlds warping into weigh stations for the crude blood of nations. Earthen substrate cracks and heaves beneath landscapes of novel steel as petrified flora is displaced through mechanical systems sector entireties which first crack and distill the rotten ancient earth molecularly and disperse it with vehicular mechanics into the ambient chemistry of a certain limnological, marine and atmospheric solution; with its fluid dynamics falling into chaos. I feel this mad vision of a resonant electromagnetic psychotropsis frequencies dataset paradigm dancing forth from mind across a determinable range of expansive terrain at altitude, depth and speed. Somehow, in a nonlinear three dimensional geomagnetic grid, plus time as vector mine, my ethereal surroundings coordinate around the point that is I, I with dead reckoning trained beyond my organ capabilities. A phantom point of origin to the breadth of my intention. Sing! Sing to me my love! Yet, slow, smooth, heavy and eternal my progress. Still, I see frontiers. In dimensions of physical space and malleable time, faith transcending, populations, code, sequencing, beliefs and thoughts migrating, damaging, and building, sustaining. We leave the history we have grown and builtmore upon earth, our might the prophetic dominion. Onward to the externalizations to be brought into this our fold; onward to stasis to look within at matters unknown, structurally, fundamentally, eternally our being, our purpose. Forever, Amen.

Yea, for Thine Valley; my Lingual Plea.

My true hell may be solitude. There is a wilderness of some death and compulsion near Moria in Sinai. Re-living all becomes transcendent towards my future of gravitas. There is no ram for the burning briars. Had I vacated; backwards gnats and blood whilst forward my denial. I re-live the past and the future seems elsewhere’s oblivion. No heavenly ascendancy leads me. Only a glimmer now of the radiance inductive of my hope for salvation in thine valley. Shadows at dawn. Murky depths of my saturated state. Yet, no signal. Lone and hungry I await the reciprocal teletype or pulse authorizing my plea. Moments slow into dread. Composing my shattered soul from decades past I hesitate, linger, proceed and stop, gripping inward vessels flowing upwards to your heart. To dare to believe that thus competent with lingual annunciation of my prayer I, I might then rise is to exist again though the many deaths that I have died doth bear heavy awaiting my abandonment of everything such; for your love.

Advertising Might.

I think people feel I exhibit a certain naivety in believing a confessed conditional proposition of holy matrimony should preempt a hug and a kiss. Yet, to this child trapped within a seasoned veteran of domestic chemical warfare psychotropsis it seems my intentions should be clearly stated prior to what I freely admit to be an attempt at copulation. If I only had feathers to ruffle. Further, as a stated biologist I don’t believe in polygamy. Rather it seems evident that ejaculatory frequency should be equally or less periodic, and appropriately timed, so as to coincide with ovulation. And, that’s not only so that accumulated volume maximizes the muscle contraction’s strength and power either. Think rest and heavy Olympic anabolic pumps. The bulk works to guarantee womb traversal towards that singularity of gamete merger, culminating, throbbing, immaculate. Returning to science: It’s a living organism kinda thing. Eukaryota. There seems to be no other reason for the hugging and kissing if you know what I’m talkin’ bout. I say we men are just built that way. Sure, there may be a sultan of Mormon Babel tribalism who could handle five, or thirty five, after burying golden tablets in the hills, but I’ll be the man to admit I’m not emulative of my own kind for the sake of beating my chest amongst hominids. A breath of sapience. Admittedly. This rib is prime.

U 2wks in.

It was difficult being chemically lynched in the Deep South by a New Jersey resident and US Navy veteran crime syndicate. 23 year old Clemson Freshman and United States Navy Veteran GI Bill Officer Candidate David Packie of New Jersey was living in Thornhill Village 29 R and receiving full federal aid, though not including uniforms, to attend Clemson University with all expenses paid by the Federal Government. He was the serial felon lysergic diethylene dealer who non sexually seduced and psychotropically conditioned me to commit Samurai ritual seppuku; without ever so much as giving me a cigarette. I never solicited nor purchased the drug, I was chosen. And, though I may have been selected for having been wearing an HK High School chemistry class tie dye t-shirt; the conspicuous absence of smoke, mirrors, powders, syringes, and other paraphernalia was made incongruous by only one occasion where it was explained to me that a small condiment bottle had been modified to be a water pipe. I smoked marijuana on that occasion. Then the unknown psychotropic treatment was begun with pieces of paper cut from an index card. Administration of the psychotropic occurred an estimated five or six times, in unknown dosages. Additionally, I was selected from a crowd by a shaven headed “Buddhist” who coerced me into the $5 purchase of a guru commentary on the Baghivad Gita and directed me to read Shogun D.T. Suzuki’s writings on the oblivion of Zen enlightenment, as well as on proper posture for standing, walking, seated meditation, and blade motion during seppuku. David also taught dormitory room “classes” on lying which he called “never have I ever” during which he seated groups on the floor and had them all say the opposite of things which had occurred. I was given the impression that he was experimenting with his psychotropic substance supply, which he procured from a circuit of labs elsewhere, and then used to drug some students yet not others; so that he could observe comparative behaviors during games of “never have I ever”. Also, it is notable that the University of Massachusetts at Amherst presents the writings of D.T. Suzuki as a Shinto antithesis to the aforementioned Zen Samurai suicide methods, with much poetic description of such things as tea ceremony, rock gardens, scroll calligraphy and ink painting, bonsai and feng shui. Personally, I have always considered the diametrical opposition of Zen and Shinto to be worthy of comparison to Stephen Spielberg’s concept of the force, and it’s antithetical dark side. Yet, despite fiction, it has been 26 years since this chemical intoxication melted a portion of my brain, and seemed to permanently convince me of my need to disembowel or hang myself by noose. Since my 1998 diagnosis as a paranoid schizophrenic I have been treated, primarily as a heavily sublimated outpatient, by Yale Psychiatry and the State of Connecticut Department of Mental Health and Addiction Services for 22 years. I now feel safe, happy and comfortable. I dream of a wife. I write. I publish at my domain

A Letter to Dr. Jones, Who Could be More Funky.


I’m motivated here by not knowing our next appointment. Anyway, in all honesty I wanted to say that you are my best friend, yet, I suppose, DMHAS CT law places it’s constraints upon your professional knowledge as well as its prohibitions upon me. I appreciate you for inducing logorrhea and regret it now builds the legendary insinuation that I might never get to listen to anyone. It’s frightening. Additionally, I have made a fool of myself now by speaking instead of listening. Thrilled at a glimpse of online reciprocity I fear I have said too much to Marine Corps Sargent Cecilia Alverez. Now, after stating my intent to win a hand holding date, and perhaps a hug at the Bushnell Park SpanAm monument, also on the first date; I have not heard from her for the entire day. I’m hesitant, to bother her. So, here I am, contacting you, penning dissertations on global power, recalcitrant, in repose and thinking of Ceci. Ceci is so, so hot, yet she’s a drill sergeant; and she’s ignoring me.


Generations Before My Own

One of the things I see in these photographs is a Eurasian Theological Conflict which thankfully stayed in Eurasia. Firstly, FDR obviously confronted genocidal Nazism and the oblivion suicide Buddhism epitomized by the sectarian Zen of the imperial shogun system. In addition to the evil disregard for life, however, what can be summarized as a democratic republic opposing two massive industrial death cults was not only an issue of theological premise. The second idea is that there were issues regarding fueling the competing plans for superpower and the future’s prescriptive approach to newly envisioned housing and transportation sectors. FDR grounded the Luftwaffe by essentially building Saud with Wahhab, thus gaining access to fields like Guar. Fat man and little boy then ended the Japanese will to fight, although the nation refused formal surrender. The detonations simultaneously demonstrated the power of the fuels based air supremacy of the USAAF and RAF, which had added much of Arabia to Texas as the newly compiled sum of its foundation. Within ten years of the Marshall Plan the 1956 Superhighway and National Defense Act displayed the true force of the civil and mechanical age which has been fueled by liquid fossil carboniferous energy since. Yet to think only of the car and truck system built in North America might be to misunderstand an issue of premise and paradigm relative to designing the “map” of the Pentateuch itself and to the lifestyles of hominid culture set as early as Leviticus 11. Thus, from the fifties through the seventies there was the North American and then the Eurasian continental plans being applied, and, in a way, there were and there remain two civil design paradigms. The USA built from kingpin to grocery cart with design specific features in support of single family residences built for moms, dads and kids. Agriculture and forest products remain a USA day’s drive or two away by a team of two in a Class A vehicle. Contrarily, Russia, and more precisely here Asia chose, with KGB support, to eat non levitical foods (think zoonoses), and to build communal block housing for collectivized living, with fewer roads, in part because of fewer and more widely dispersed petroleum reserves in Eurasia. Both agriculture and industry are highly proximal to populations in Russia and China. Yet, there had been a China, for example, in existence well before the CCP “Great Leap Forward” was forcibly implemented and resulted in 40 Million dead Chinese. So, returning to the photograph above, JFK, LBJ (not pictured) and Nixon demonstrated that an Allied wherewithal to try to stop the communist pogrom in central China was stronger than the colonial French had been. The game was Brinksmanship in the civil mechanical era of the petroleum age. The USA stood to try to stop the greatest humanitarian disaster of the twentieth century as the world built two competing ways to see “home”. It makes one wonder about those who believe a pure pan Islamic state might arise from a purported Allah’s apocalypse if Saudi Wahhab were destroyed; and then the theorist turned and vanished. It makes me contemplate an end to the petroleum age; however the faiths of the world collide.


It apparently was not at Sagamore hill that Theodore invented the Teddy (bear) or stopped all the Potomac punting. A sign of the times, though. Passenger pigeon flocks of millions driven extinct for bushmeat and perhaps the peak of the pre depletion Cod fishery with punted millinery hats for ladies. I’ve heard that when the cotton was gone Vermont shifted into being a wool supplier for Lowell and Biddeford looms as Charles River tanneries boomed in dirty water with western culture OK beef hides for dyed leathers from slaughter at the Manhattan high line. It is said that maraschino tribesmen in the Philippines were stopped by the .45. Oh, Manhattan and strip. Regla Cuba! Cuba Libre!

Vision For Bicamerality

I fear my explanation of the law firm “Janus, Jekyll, Hyde and Dent” fails to adequately iterate the bicameral nature of governance, culture, conflict and mind. To simply say politics is two faced is to neglect valid complexities in human existence. Thus, I seek to prove that in the initial law firm’s advertisement there was no intent of ill will. I meant to say that I was most certainly not being two faced about my professed devotion to love. It was more an additional iteration of the need to alleviate the specificities of the “ill”, which I say as both fact, as in medical terms, and pun, relative to the nonexistent possibility of my having felt any “ill will”. Thus; unfortunate topics are discussed, along with all that might confound our clarity of purpose. I fear it has often been, for me at least, that gravitas has scuttled something initial, and resulted in the unease of waiting to build upon stronger foundations. As for passage into the future; I accept the penance of continued waiting because I believe in the angelic.

To Have Dreamed Today

I’m finding difficulty with a sort of conceptual framework relative to pure beauty. I feel somewhat tarnished and tinctured in a radiance which while certain to improve my own luster somehow shimmers delicately superior to my brutality. To have glimpsed your perfection today has caused both awe and a dignified respect. I wonder if I will tremble at your feet; though subordination has for so long relegated me to most upright moods and behaviors upon realizing the futility of failure.