An Addendum; a Partial Autobiography

I agonized over this for many years. Part of the reason was that basically my story can’t be true, because it involves things that were absolutely illegal (I was told so, told that I could refuse…but I would have to do it anyway and at the same time I was told that I could do whatever I wanted–it’s possible that this even included using drugs which would have had to involve allowing me to know in advance when a test would come). It would have to involve some unbelievable abilities on my part; it would have to have as a premise that I had the highest IQ of anyone who took the test prior to 1968. I would have to have had, in fact, the highest IQ in the world at that time, with the possible exception of Albert Einstein.

I would have to have a reading speed of about 10K per minute (but considerably slowed by turning pages–printouts from the teletype machine didn’t involve pages, and from the printer there were folds; it would have been slowed further by the fact that I was proofreading [YES, while reading] to about 5K per minute and the fact that the documents which were used as source for messages were invariably paged and not unusually handwritten, almost always had errors in spelling, punctuation and grammar. I also often had comments to make on the given subject, if they came from the admiral. The admiral in question was the Commander of Seventh Fleet–the US Far East Navy. Oops. I meant, the Commander of the US Far East Armed Services. That means all except clandestine operations were under his command. They were to some extent but deniability had to be maintained.

I would have to have been allowed to do research using the Navy Communications network. I would have to be a genius by normal standards. That ‘genius’ would have to only an ability to ‘see’ patterns and manipulate them, remembering only the patterns photographically. That would be the source of my private saying then, “Tell me two things and you tell me three”. When told hundreds of thousands of things, many more patterns lie revealed.

To restate that, I had a “want to know” clearance. For everyone else that was “need to know”.

Within two months of becoming a ‘traffic checker’*, I was followed in every port except Yokosuka, our home port. I was told there would be, before it started. That couldn’t have been the entire truth, but it doesn’t matter. They even had someone in the communications (Radioman) division whose sole real purpose was watching me. After I wrote a note to the Navy (two and a half pages, 8″ X 11.5″, handwritten) they started photographing my log book while I was absent. That note included knowledge of things I never read a thing about in Navy Communications; an example was the knowledge about what the 7 geostationary and the two maneuverable satellites were for.

This will do as a prologue or part of one. I’ve become convinced that I actually need to do this–impart information.

June 5, 2020 at 7:17 pm Leave a comment

Let the Buyer Beware

Let the Buyer Beware

Let the buyer beware.
It was in winter
that he met you, and
shyly touched you:
frost-whitened trees, and grass,
he gave you a stone,
a small flawed agate.
(“I look for them on the beach,”
he said. “It gives me
something to do.”)
It was in spring, perhaps,
that he loved you, though
he never claimed it.
You took him
or he took you…
the definition troubled you,
at times.

It was in sered summer
that he left, still
saying nothing of love.
Weeds in the socks,
in the hose…and if
you could (somehow)
clean the heart, too?
Let the buyer beware.

April 21, 2020 at 2:01 pm Leave a comment



it seems long since
i accosted the
strange-eyed god.
and, o, the gifts
that he gave me:
have brought some joy, and all some pain:

but the worst–the best–
is sight.
There will be a lot of repetition from earlier posts in the ‘voices’ category, which is an ancient poetry manuscript. I lost the computer copy of the ms. that I cut each poem I posted from. Pardon the sloppy grammar.

April 21, 2020 at 1:58 pm Leave a comment



…in the years of my decline
(i can recall this
quite clearly, you know)
i knew visions well.

i would not speak
to strangers: i was
an unruly tyrant
with my kin.

but i still was
foremost counsellor (though
given to sudden rages, and no one quite dared
challenge that).

mostly, of course, it was
the unseemly pains of age, acid gut and aching joints,
and other discomforts…

o, but i had my power!
i was dressed in pomp, all attended–for i was,
despite those rages, still wise.

ah, though: reborn, freed
of both pains and pomp, i wonder; who will requite me
for all the smiles i lost?

April 20, 2020 at 1:34 am Leave a comment

The Blind Woman

The Blind Woman

The blind woman is dancing
out on the dimlit floor, shaking
her head
and tossing her golden hair
(i have felt her
heavy, well-kempt
scented hair), her gestures somehow formless,

She doesn’t even know
i watch her.
(I sip my beer, and sigh.)
What does she think of, who
does she see, lost
in her private world?

Later, walking away, muttering silently to my self, i wonder:
who watches my
private dances?

April 19, 2020 at 2:20 pm Leave a comment

Stimulus Checks and Social Security

They’ll send it. To the address or direct deposit used by Social Security. The Portal is only for income tax filers that received a debit or refund on income tax; you


check otherwise. The information is from another section on the IRS site.

April 16, 2020 at 2:45 pm Leave a comment

About Lying

“A lie is signalled by the liar looking away, generally down and to the left.” Not necessarily.

If you have lied successfully and feel the urge to confess I have one word of advice; Don’t. You’re not doing it for the sake of anyone else, you’re doing it for yourself and it almost always has bad consequences. The best lies are mostly true, but slanted by means of comments and implications.

Language doesn’t allow telling the truth. The actual truth lies in the experience itself and not at all with the unavoidable distortions that language (its definitions and complete lack of ability to express personal experiences are what cause this; language is devised for communication and thus only for group experience; unique interpretations are beyond its ability to support, which is why original thinkers–I’m not claiming to be one–experience unending failure to communicate). Remember and absorb that.

And then remember that what your groups actually know about you is very little.

Also, at least the largest part of the so-called unconscious mind is simply that part which doesn’t employ language. If you’re dubious that we don’t think in language, consult any neurologist.

April 16, 2020 at 2:39 pm Leave a comment

About The Stimulus Check

The Portal only works if you had a refund or owed money on income tax. Also, it’s giving some Social Security direct deposit accounts a message that…they don’t have enough information to send it. YOU CANNOT COMMUNICATE WITH IRS ATT*.

Also, of course, payments are being delayed so Trump’s signature can be on checks. How…how…admirable of him. Another ‘new’ for the presidency. He may have done a lot more than any other president; unfortunately, that’s because almost all his moves were bad and none were entirely good.

*at this time

April 16, 2020 at 12:25 pm 1 comment

in gratitude for an absence

In gratitude for an absence
it seems
I have my words again
after a year’s near-silence;
i returned

to that land that lies
before the fences and lanes
that language builds
and it stunned me dumb.

now, I have both worlds again.
better, i no longer
hear your words.

silence, blessed silence
For the first time in many years I am showing newly-written poetry publicly.

April 13, 2020 at 3:25 am Leave a comment

The Former Entry

That should be translucent; not opaque but offering little in the way of detail. Anything I might have said before regarding certain things I could talk about wasn’t covered by any possible security blanket; private imaginations–those which aren’t accompanied by ‘proof’–can’t be classified. The moment that one is officially acknowledged as an employee, past or present, things change permanently. There is a whole plethora of things I’ll never mention publicly again. If I were to write an autobiography, it wouldn’t be on the net; it would be there for posthumous publication. I am not saying that I’m in the process of doing so; I generally find myself bored by my past. PTSD moments change that, but fortunately they don’t last long. PTSD days have me caught in that same past I can no longer detail, generally only for a day (all of us had a bad month fifty years after the ending of the Vietnam war, even those never diagnosed with PTSD).

April 13, 2020 at 3:16 am Leave a comment

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