“I should feel guilty”

Now I know why I used to say that, and what it hid.


April 29, 2015 at 5:16 pm Leave a comment

A Short Note

No, I won’t be doing that solely.  However, I do have rather a large volume of poetry that I spent enough energy attempting to publish by conventional means.  I can’t judge whether anyone will be interested or not; my guessing mechanism is broken on that one.  There are too many streams of cause on that one.  More fun to read something easy, sometimes.  There are so many sources of information and entertainment that competition is in a real sense meaningless.  I spent a long while pretending to be (apparently the act wasn’t successful to anyone who was near me) unintelligent and obscure.  Being noticeable wasn’t part of the plan, which meant I really didn’t want publication on one hand.


Right now I’m trying to assimilate 50 years of thought or so into a small, manageable form.  Relatively small.  I can go back and do the research.  Most has been done; I just need  as a start to predict and then check–I can go back and do the research.


The start of the years of thought was that I trusted neither determinism nor free will and most of all not absolute predestination [Calvinism].  Pure free will didn’t seem available.  Determinism (behaviorism) didn’t work, although that could be because of the fact that it assumed the identity principle.  Which seemed ridiculous once formally stated to me.  I was challenged by a teacher on that one; it seems I’m stubborn and quite persistent.


September 25, 2016 at 6:02 pm Leave a comment

The Hierophant




The Hierophant


We’ve waited for hours

in this dusky, dusty place.

Anger and fear

are mixed in our breasts

as we wait on,

kneeling, heads bowed.  (Perhaps

the blindness

is hardest to bear.  I think

I’ve memorized

this cracked patch

of floor.)


Or perhaps

these hours

have been my life

as I wait

for meaning.










The personal pronoun, unusually, is capitalized, but it seems fitting.  I generally don’t use it simply because English is the one and the only for many things, but I think most irritatingly for this; it capitalizes the personal pronoun.

September 25, 2016 at 5:48 pm Leave a comment

Family and 1 poem, ‘departures’

Sorry, I’ve actually been busy with my family in fairly pleasant ways to extremely pleasant.  Spouses can have rough spots that require sanding.  That might be self-administered, spousal ‘maintenance’ read spouse abuse or shadows of various sorts.  Veterans of all wars I think bear those shadows.  And being close to death just does that, as does dying.  At least it has been a while since I was dying voiceless in the night, knowing that I was fighting to regain control of my body.  That’s not a good feeling.

I intend to spend more time on the blog for more than one reason.  One is that I’ll simply get “voices‟ published.  The ‘easy’ way.


having hesitated by a field,
overgrown and rocky
we found our path suddenly obscured and sat to ponder

us, and our selves, and
eventually decided
our paths lay different ways…
and then (humanly if not naturally)

each blamed the other
and set our separate courses,
i pursuing that perhaps illusive beast enlightenment,
or wisdom…

and you went (you had to go)
to peace, to some security.

…i pause often by that field.
–not with regret, nor even
with real deliberation, without care for was and why
and how:

i pause often by that field,
and watch the shadows change.
(Such tangled webs we weave!)


I’ll be detailing how to get a copy of voices in various fashions, the most expensive of which would make me actually drop everything and get it converted yet again.  It’s a big collection of poems which mutated into a picture type .pdf somehow with the bloody upgrades.  I finally found a word processor which allows me to break it down or…if pressed…to actually bulk-edit the whole ms.  Which I simply won’t change the writing on again, but the conversion does introduce things like extraneous spaces.  Those I will work on, with a stick–so to speak.

September 23, 2016 at 10:58 pm Leave a comment

**This is a joke**



August 22, 2016 at 10:01 pm Leave a comment

My Brother

I’ve met him.  My actual half-brother.  I’m rather in shock, having been an only child for nearly 63 years.  The x amount of them is also in a tad of unprepared reaction, never having suspected that good old Dad (!) might have snuck off into the bushes while in Germany.  *I actually don’t remember if I was told what the venue was, but places to stay for Americans with money weren’t that hard to find just then.  I never have understood her shame about the whole incident.  He couldn’t have known, and I was in the “third trimester and so it was too late” to abort me.  Her last years were filled with repeated litanies of “I’m so glad I couldn’t have you aborted!!”  One of the things this means is that she didn’t even realize she missed a period or three and by then he was long gone.  Her knowledge of him was that he’d killed a taxi driver in a drunken fight in Berlin and was sentenced to San Quentin.  Or so she said.  My mother proved to be quite the liar, by choice.


He seems to have affection for .. Dad … and I haven’t heard about his mother one way or the other.  And…I can’t do this.  However, family.  What a shock.

August 6, 2016 at 4:06 pm Leave a comment


on a rather sick day.  Internal bleeding can be felt in the latter stages.  I’ll be going to see a neurologist soon; he may decide to change my medications.  According to my last neurologist my next seizure will be it.  I died a few times in that hospital and I was being kept ‘alive’ for quite a while.


I shouldn’t have had a fit of anger and burst out at my father’s descendants because I didn’t understand what was going on.  There is also a growing sense of little time left.  I have a nearly finished hypothesis regarding language (as distinct from a representative system), society and social adaptation.  I left the establishment there because there was an ongoing attempt to put the vein of thought into preexistent theories, and because of the very nature of it.  I’m not going into what comprised years of thought nor even claim it was worthwhile except possibly to me.  I destroyed my notes, most of my poetry and most of my fictional work, in an ongoing fashion.


Sorry and I will be able to write more and more cheerfully later, some other day, whatever.  Right now I cannot.

August 1, 2016 at 5:16 pm Leave a comment

Reliving a Sequence

That’s what I’m doing just now.


Here’s where the string of choices starts.  I’m at best an agnostic with an apparently sincere offer from Dr. Runner of Dordt College for a scholarship.  Based on my understanding of his lecture about Dooyeveert and Modal–Relativity.  There are many ways to approach that and some are actually nearly intrinsically valid.  However one must include that the most used method of transaction uses relativistic measures as if they were absolute, and the network (society) which depends upon that must use the same blindness.  I had been hovering on agnosticism for a long time.  I had thought of the modal bit the summer before, although there were delightful ramifications here that could possibly fit with other things.


Could I possibly accept the offer and be honest?  [Long later, yes, you ass.  He even knew.]


My adopted parents offered college on the basis of my grade point average.  Could I depend upon them?  No.  My aunt might even manage to make me get bad grades (she managed that in…freshman year, where I said the “fuck it” thing and went that route, which got me a psychiatrist–a delightful friend, nothing about therapy, sorry–a long talk with various people and then I went to filling out things that I already knew…the patterns of the motivations of those who wrote the questions, got homework done in 15 minutes a day, unless it was unusually hard, 20, math was hopeless; I could program a calculator or a computer but…even with a calculator…so that at the end I got over 3.5, yay) or do what she hinted she would have done, mandated I quit smoking.


Fifteen minutes.  The teachers were running from me, terrified of my questions.  I was mad or I was something else.  Every teacher I asked about my intelligence looked at me in a terrified way (you are crazy, bud) and managed to bolt.


The Armed Forces had a row of offices; Navy and Marine, Army, Air Force–or maybe during Vietnam they actually let the Marines have their own office.  I walked toward them; relatively short-haired, probably smoking a cigarette, neatly dressed (I was a dependent, after all; freedom was a word invented later), school books in hand [that’s bull shit, if anything I had a book I was reading].  I swear their ears moved up.  I went to the Navy office, and the others gradually drooped.  Whidbey Island is cool enough that air conditioning isn’t the norm, or at least that’s the way it was, word has it that things have warmed there too as the sea rises, crumbling the island more rapidly just as the ant hill moves to bare it and sit atop it.


They had a thing called a GCT test, you see.  That’s sort of like saying an SSD* drive, but whatever.  General Classification Test. test.  Whatever.  *Solid State Drive


I had two things in mind.  I knew I loved the sea, a story I may later tell.  That GCT was derived from the Stanford-Binet.  Directly.  Otherwise you had to pay more money than I conveniently had.


As expected I can’t do this any more today.  I have a severe head ache.  I’ve been lifting my arms somewhat and lowering my head and I’m engendering consequently a roaring headache…



July 30, 2016 at 7:24 pm Leave a comment

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