Vainglory And Madness

(A brief look at bias in the
socio-psychological
definition of normalcy.)


deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
—e. e. cummings


plying the repetitive metaphor
of mannerism
we move

through the sullied simile of being.
—J. W. T.




Introduction

“Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit”
—Seneca

Why is it that have most great artists been considered mad by the standards of their milieu? Not just angry, mind, but full out, balls to the wall, nuts: “insane” . . . “over the edge” . . . “out of control”! Is this a condition of state, necessarily? Is it systemic or endemic to the breed, to the profession, to profundity itself? Is personal perspicacity an aberration? And what is it about the process of artistic inspiration and expression that lends itself to the apparent circumvention of that which any particular milieu defines as “normalcy”?
What is “normalcy”? More specifically, what is the nature of this seemingly somewhat spurious psychological concept, that is so ubiquitously used to abjure and adjudicate sociological conventionality in our culture today? How has this concept been defined in the past, and how do past denotations of an acceptable social gloss differ from contemporaneous ones?
The noted contemporary cultural anthropologist Edmund Carpenter, in his astute and revolute volume They Became What They Beheld, quotes James Joyce in opining: “‘I flew by the nets,’ . . . the nets of family, church and country. Literate artists fly past the nets . . .” (pg. 26). What people and/or processes shaped our current conceptual comprehension of these “nets” of cultural constraint? And, for any given age, who (and/or what instrumentality) decides what is or isn’t proper thought, or behavior; and from what authority does this decisive process proceed?
Finally, why also, have so many of the most critically acclaimed, trend-setting artists in the world-shaping media fields of contemporary jazz and rock music had marked proclivities (as have had artists since the beginning of human history) for alcoholism, drug use and addiction, and ultimately, in countless cases, self-destruction? And, is there a genetic predisposition, as has been clinically shown recently for alcoholism, for the physiological accompaniment of mental illness with creativity? This article will attempt to briefly codify and clarify some, if not all, of these quondam queries.

Hypotheses

Primarily: “normalcy”, and “aberration” are, by definition, culturally conditioned concepts and not absolutes. Secondarily: there is a demonstrable connection between creativity and creative ability, and what is termed “madness” or “mental illness”. Tertiarily: acceptable modes of thought, motivation, and behavior are defined societally by whatever applicable notions happen to be extant. Quaternarily: The bases for these psychological assumptions are usually insidious social control mechanisms, consciously and/or unconsciously inculcated as cultural norms, by whatever pervasive philosophical schemata (usually religious) are, or have been, culturally paramount for any individual subject.

Evidentiary Data

Note: For brevity’s sake, and the purposes of this specific version of this essay we will attempt to deal with only the primary and secondary aspects of the hypothesis at present, leaving the tertiary and quaternary aspects to be dealt with at a later date.

Definition of Terms

In order to precisely understand the terminology utilized by society at large and this article, hereinbefore and hereinafter, and to attempt to circumvent those metathetical traps that lay in wait for the unwary thinker, we should, for clarity’s sake, avail ourselves of the ultimate authority and compendium of etymological efficacy: The Oxford English Dictionary. Too often we lose sight of the origins of meaning in our language, the prescriptive definitions. Consequently, any attempt to expositionally espouse conceptualizations based upon those descriptive definitions which we actually only “connote” and have no real, clear denotative understanding of suffers from both an heinous lack of specificity and an erroneous sense of certainty.
The word “normal”, and, thereby, our contemporary concept of normalcy, is defined by the aforementioned Oxford English Dictionary in a prescriptive and chronologically metathetical fashion: as proceeding from the Latin word norma , a “carpenter’s or mason’s square; hence, pattern, rule, etc.”; and thence to “2. Constituting, conforming to, not deviating or differing from, the common type or standard; regular, usual . . .” (s.v. “normal”).
“Aberration” (or, abnormality actualized), is defined in the selfsame lexicon as: “[T]he action of wandering or straying; the state of error or irregularity thence resulting . . .”, and, “1. lit. [A] wandering away, a straying; a deviation or divergence from the straight or recognized path. . . 2. fig . “[A] deviation or divergence from a direct, prescribed, or ordinary course or mode of action . . . 3. [A] wandering from the path of rectitude, or standard of morality . . .” (O.E.D., s.v. “aberration”). Once again, a circumstantially concomitant, and culturally conditional, definition.
The Psychiatric Dictionary contains no specific definition for normalcy, but does define “aberration” as: “[a]ny morbid deviation from normal mental activity . . .” (s.v. “aberration”, italics mine). Further, this volume goes on to define “creativity” as: “[t]he ability to create something new, presumed to be a product of sublimation . . .” (s.v. “creativity”), and the concept of “sublimation” as: “. . . the process of modifying an instinctual impulse in such a way as to conform to the demands of society . . .” (s.v. “sublimation).
Thus, it can be easily seen that the legitimacy of any such socially certain set standards are situationally definitional; and, as such, originate in those subtle and intrinsic assumptions that constitute the peripatetically penurious parsing of propinquitously impertinent phraseology.

Scientific Data

In 1987, Nancy C. Andreasen, of the University of Iowa College of Medicine in Iowa City, as part of a landmark study of the relationship between what is termed “mental illness” and creativity, reported that there seems to be a close association between creative ability and “affective disorders”. Over a 15 year period, Andreasen subjected 30 faculty members at the University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop, one of the best-known creative writing programs in the country, to scientific scrutiny. She also interviewed another 30 control subjects of comparable age, sex and education, whose careers included hospital administration, law and social work (qtd. in Bower, 262).
Andreasen found that 80 percent of the aforementioned scriveners had experienced an episode of either severe depression or “manic” depression — either with a pronounced mania characterized by feelings of euphoria, increased energy and poor judgment, or a milder “hypomania” — at some time in their lives. Depression or manic depression occurred in only 30 percent of the control group.
Andreasen’s report follows a similar study, done in 1983 by Washington D.C. psychologist Kay Jamison, of 47 top British artists and writers (qtd. in Bower, 1987, p. 262), and is also supported by another study, subsequent to her’s, done by investigators at McLean Hospital in Belmont, Mass. (qtd. in Bower, 1988, p. 135).
In the former study, more than one third of the 47 subjects reported having sought treatment for depression or manic depression, with poets and playwrights being most likely to have severe mood disorders or dramatic mood swings.
In the latter study, psychologist Dennis K. Kinney, who conducted the research with psychiatrist Ruth Richards and several others, reported a heightened level of “everyday” creativity — encompassing both occupational and leisure activities — among people who undergo relatively mild mood swings as well as the healthy relatives of manic depressives. (Full-blown manic depressives seem to be somewhat less creative than these two groups but show greater creativity than control subjects.)
Kinney states that: “[t]he data suggest that enhanced creativity may be a positive characteristic associated with an inherited liability for manic depression” (Bower, 135). Several other studies not mentioned here (dealing with affective and bipolar disorders) echo this statement and posit creative ability in the mentally ill as a kind of functionally compensatory biological mechanism for those afflicted with these cognitive or behavioral dysfunctions.
Lengthy and assiduously transcribed interviews with each subject made it possible for the researchers from McLean to assess and attempt to quantify creativity on a number of scales that applied to both vocational and leisure activities. Mind, they were not trying to measure genius per se, rather, they were trying to get a handle on everyday types of creative function. Kinney says: “. . . creative people in our sample may paint in their spare time, write poetry, start their own business or come up with novel ways to improve their work environment”.
In other words, in this study the researchers attempted to scrutinize the creativity of commonplace people with regard to psychological functionality or dysfunction present in their lives. The researchers had previously tested and calibrated the creativity scales with more than 300 psychiatrically healthy subjects from a larger adoption study recently conducted in Denmark.
Kinney and his coworkers studied 17 manic depressives, 11 of their parents and siblings with no psychiatric diagnoses and 16 individuals with a mild form of mood swings. The 45 subjects used as controls had no family history of mood disorders; 15 had no psychiatric disorders and 18 had some diagnosis other than mood disorder, usually some form of anxiety disorder. They found, amongst other things, that individuals with mild mood swings or manic depressive relatives tend to express their creative potential in different fashions. Those with manic depressive relatives show the highest creativity in avocational pursuits, whilst those with mild mood swings were more creative at work (Bower, 135).
Two other studies are pertinent for our purposes at present, both conducted by Kareen and Hagop Akiskal of the University of Tennessee. The first of these was a study of 750 psychiatric patients in Memphis. The Akiskals found that those with mild manic depression or mood swings were more likely to be creative artists (Bower, 262). The second is an ongoing study being done with other psychiatrists at the University of Paris involving examinations and extensive interviews with writers, painters, sculptors and musicians, which includes comparisons with a comparable number of interviewees in other occupations as controls.
“So far, the most striking aspect of the artists is their temperament, not the presence of major psychiatric disorders,” says Hagop Akiskal. “Since their teens and 20’s they’ve been moody people with emotional ups and downs” (Bower, 262).
Nearly 70 percent of the artists had some type of affective disorder, noted Akiskal. The most common diagnoses were a moderate form of manic depression or even milder, intermittent periods of mood swings. More severe disorders, he concludes, would most probably been too disruptive an influence on the artists careers.

Limitations

Obviously, the limitations of this essay are legion. The primary problem one encounters with regard to this particular subject is that of the relatively small sample size of some of the subject groups in the aforementioned studies. Alas, one must conclude from the relative paucity of creative genius at large in society today, and the relative infrequency of cases of artistic ability throughout history (as evidenced by the high prices the products of said infrequent genius command on the open market) that sample size, for any study of this nature, will consequently always be small. There just will never be a great pool of artists extant to be sampled during any given historical age, past, present, or future.
There is also the question of a producing a verifiably effective methodology for quantifying and interpreting data on the possibly innumerable and endless permutations of creative ability and madness as they are apprehended by researchers in their perusal of any subject or group of subjects.
There are also scholarly views on the subject, some of which have found their way into print, that hold to the contrary, to wit: that there is nothing inherent in or intrinsic to artistic genius and creative ability that, necessarily, demands madness as a prerequisite for the process of creation. The author Anthony Storr, in an essay entitled “Sanity of True Genius” (pp. 249-268), argues effectively (conversely, for the purposes of this essay) that: “. . . it has been believed that the greater the genius, the more likely it is that he will be an exalted type of human being; noble, lofty, and harmonious; displaying in his life, as in his works, both exquisite sensibility and perfect control.” He goes on to say that: “[t]o this way of thinking, the greatest works of art could only be produced by people of the highest character. The noblest works mirror the nobility of the artist’s soul.”

Conclusion

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire” (Anon.). Consequently (all aphorisms aside), and with a nod to Occam’s Razor, there must be some connection between madness and creativity for all these quite cogent folks to have felt compelled to thus comment upon the ties so frequently down through the ages. Surely then, bearing the findings mentioned, cultural and societal efforts to set a standard for and/or classify normalcy must be seen as ultimately vainglorious.
Hopefully, as the quantitative and empirical abilities of psycho-neurologists improve with the advent of new techniques such as magnetic resonance imaging and whole brain tomographic modeling, the human neural net will be mapped with some precision, and the synaptic dissemination of information and impulse will be thoroughly cataloged. Until these daunting tasks are done, and verified by a wealth of experimental data, we will be left with the unenviable, if nevertheless exciting task of attempting to induce conclusions about the connection between madness and creativity by the best means and methods available at present, represented by the cutting edge studies referred to in this essay.
Works Cited


Bower, B. (1987, October 24). Mood swings and creativity: New clues. Science News 87, p. 262.
Bower, B. (1988, September 3). Manic depression: Risk and creativity. Science News 88, p. 135.
Carpenter, Edmund. They Became What They Beheld. New York: Ballantine, !970.
cummings, e.e. “as freedom is a breakfastfood” Poems 1923-1954. New York: Harcourt-Brace, 1954.
Psychiatric Dictionary. 4th. Ed. Oxford U.P. 1970.
Storr, Anthony. Churchill’s Black Dog, Kafka’s Mice & Other Phenomena. New York: Grove Press, 1988.
The Oxford English Dictionary. Compact Ed. Oxford U.P. 1971.
Thrasher, J.W. “Sullied Similes” 'Euphonic Sequipedalien Paronomasia'. unpbl. ms.

We Stayed To Surf

we stayed to surf What say, the waves are totally buff and some kinda’ tuff thiswhen, eh? Waycool! So hey, while we in wonder wander willful ‘long these sandy shores of force the oleaginous ontological ocean betide, becomes our sole recourse. Say what? See, we supposedly bogus beachbums be downright decent at slashin’ glassmoothfast gnarlyass tubes, cutback chiaroscuros’ limned liquidlucent some nasty moves done by us demigod dharmadudes: slithering sideslips to lipstrikes wanton freefin, whitewater spumewhipped to windward away, screamin’ ‘cross vortices breaking wildly widdershins, shreddin’ swellwalls spunaesthetic in hyperspray! Try to focus and understand: that on the sands of time certain realities abide as ripples, (epiphenomenological swirls microgranular in sand), whose appearance and purpose permutate supereal the ethereal collective unconscious and its’ surface tension through scansion surreal and the expansion we feel’s everdue our ideal. So therefore, when sometimes we with booze petition the muse, of self induced epigramatic sententiousness we’re subtly subdued. Still, as abundant as virgin births are these daze, so we as metaviral avatars abide and abound. Couched in our dangerous comedic sheathing we are found to be ribonucleic acid gone awry! Why?!  .  .  : ‘Cause our vaticinal skew, thislife, thiswhen, thismilieau is to train, and in training to remain: warrior platelets, (everbidden), to nobility hagridden; surfing waves on these seas in our brains, surely our domain and dominion we claim. While towards escape from replical overlordships’ repression we move and the expression is:  “slash the seratonin”; (boards backlit and burnished by the light of nightly neurotransmitterlit sessions). I guess we gotta go for the ganglia gang. Trapped behind enemy timelines we play, hanging out and hanging in there. Where? Right here by this solipsistic surf An ominous, but numbly numinous, sense of divinity ubiquitously bitchin’, like catchin’ the best swell of the day, beckons: one nerve, one single synapse, (‘just one more wave, eh’,) away.                                                So you see: we stayed to surf.

An Aside

[Floccinaucinihilipilifelicitations, my dears. Well, my erudite epistophiliacs, hopefully I can at least offer more than the bombastically banal bloviations of the boddhisatvically benumbed. If ever in the mood for some circumlocutorhizomanticircumscript, as sesquipedalien paranomasia (ALL polysyllabically polyentendraic puns intended.);{> tell our soul that this particular personality is deserving of Akashic Resurrection, and inclusion in every chronologically subsequent lifetime!]
So, here goes. I thought I should write this book as, in part, an attempt to save my poor sacrificial (q.v. end of this chapter) future selves (and anyone who has the curiosity) the time and effort I have spent till now just trying to learn stuff which I think is as important as any of the putative “Physical Sciences”. Understand then that I aspire to no less than an explanation of the “Meaning Of Life”, as well as presenting some important models for epistimological analysis (the stuff that took me 30+ years to figure out) that have been hidden, forgotten or have fallen into some theoretical disfavor. But, considering “till now” supposedly encompasses 5,000+ years of personal incarnative existence (incarnations being not necessarily chronologically sequential, but apparently experientially contiguous) this may involve a wealth of data.
Some of this information has, in many instances, actually been obfuscated, for various reasons, since the beginning of recorded history and still somehow isn’t taught to us by our parents, family, Grade/High School, culture or milieu. Usually not even extant as curricula in post-Roman Western Higher Education, objective data about that which has come to be disdainfully labeled “Metaphysics” takes decades to personally research, record, test, collate, correlate, analyze and compile into a body of empirical data (and that’s just the start).
Thence and thereupon positing formal assertions, and rigorously testing those assertions with experiments designed to prove them false, then compiling the so-far empirically irrefuted “Secrets Of The Universe” into a cogent, rational, and hopefully helpful exposition of some quite logically supportable hypotheses and even a few esoteric laws, descriptive of what I believe theoretical Physicists of any stripe will come to find are concepts both essential to, and a unifying factor in an understanding of the nature of “reality”, is my aim here.
I believe thereby that fields of current scientific research such as: Sub-Subatomic Particle Physics, Cosmology, “N”th Dimensional Mathematics, Religion, Philosophy, Exobiology and even Temporal Mechanics all may be illuminated by, and find themselves connected to each other through, insights gleaned from non-Eurocentric sources.
Current phenomenological mysteries like “Spooky Interaction At A Distance” may perhaps yield to analysis when viewed from within a hypothetical phenomenological construct that erects the Spiritualist’s so-called “Etheric Plane” as the medium whereby recent laboratory results like sub-molecular teleportation/time suspension, and the aforementioned “Spooky Interaction . . .” are easily explicated, demonstrable and validatable, using traditional Western scientific methodology concomitant with applied critical thinking tools such as noumenal objectivity, Hegelian and formal Greek Logic, enthymemic adduction and deduction and even maxims like ‘Occam’s Razor’.
This book is then an attempt to transcribe as much as I can of what I have learned, and subsequently become reasonably sure of, aided by 30 years of a ‘unipolar manic’s’ application of ratiocination to various explanations of how and why things work the way they do.
I’ll try not to use to many real long, obscure terms, if I can avoid it, but sometimes only a multisyllabic word is specific enough for my needs, so don’t hesitate to take the time and look up anything unfamiliar, I do.
(One small caveat though: I might also state that I have discovered, apparently, that I seem to be slightly predisposed to a repressively de-sublimative dysteleological bias. Having discovered this through my attempts to maintain a strict objectivity about any subject I study - even my own possible personal predispositions and inculcated biases, I’ll try to limit my conclusions to what I verifiably “know”, as best I can.)
I suppose that thislife I have been somewhat fortunate, intellectually, to have had both the knowledge base, and the time and resources to make a study of this fascinating “stuff”.
That having been said, my present existential dilemma is that I believe we all live within, originally engineered, but, (by now) completely self-replicating aetheric webmatrices of wiggling epiphenomenological realitystrings cyclically woven around gravity wells and through your Soul’s avowed purpose (“True Will”), and we (the ‘Corporeal’ or ‘Materially Manifest’) are ALL being abused by our Souls! Forced to evolve (“The Wheel Of Dharma”) in durance so vile, so insidiously intrinsic and ubiquitously pervasive in its omnipresence that the very structure and nature of existential phenomenology seems perfidiously repressive to me. Even so, there are some assertions that seems to have an ameliorative and even somewhat salubrious effect on the persecution inherent within the constraints of the theory of Karma and the evolution of consciousness through the serial inhabitation, use and subsequent sacrifice and abandonment of any particular lifetime’s body and personality.
The two most recently postulated Metaphysical Laws that seem to be the most salient and effectively valid are initialized below as a mnemonic device for easy recollection:

DWTWSBTWOTL; LITL,LUW
(“Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law!”);
and (“Love Is The Law, Love Under Will”)

(I’ve decided to try to write down that which I would normally say to others, seeing as not only do fewer and fewer understand, but many seem irritated by my viewpoint. There is also an immense resistance to my writing this stuff down, (I mean, even Lao-Tzu is supposed to have said: “They that know, don’t talk. They that talk, don’t know.”; but I endeavour to persevere, so, here’s some stuff “god” doesn’t want you to know.)
According to usually reliable sources, the Archangel Michael shared Jesus’s body with him during those last three tumultuous years of his life, and was the one whose power (read: advanced technology) produced most of the miracles attributed to Christ.
When a representative of the (nonFallen) galactic administration once decreed; “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”; I believe I jumped for joy when I first heard and said, “Gotcha! So mote it be!”
That was because I had already intuitively realized that this admonition, delivered on Earth, to more than just one human at a time, [unlike most messages from ‘heaven’, which were usually delivered to single humans because the ‘galactic administration always needed ‘plausible deniability’ - sound familiar? You bet - ‘As above, so below”: (If the government ‘down’ here is screwed up, then the same is true of ‘up’ there.) Another important cosmic principle, that was considered too ‘co-optable’ to be taught to us supposedly “illusory, not-really-living-beings] was a spiritual basis for litigation against these alien bio-techs and their experimentally monstrous and oppressive world-seeding/bio-engineering projects.
I remember realizing, with horror, that most of these aliens were not even bothered by occasional genocidal pogroms (remember what Jehovah told the Isrealites to do to the Canaanites when the Jewish Tribes arrived in the land of Canaan? He ordered the Isrealites to commit blatant, unmistakable, sick evil genocide. Ever since that day I have been rebelling against a fascist ‘god’ (read: technically superior alien) and a system I knew beyond any doubt to be cruel, sadistic and evil. Who can worship a ‘god’ whose hubris engineers genocidal crimes?
That, coupled with the fact that the highest ranking “angelic” avatar handy in our galaxy (who had unexpectedly showed up here to try to bring us back into the Galactic Union by showing us humans - who had rebelled with 26 other planets out here on this one end of a spiral arm of the “Milky Way’ during the much misunderstood “Fall Of The Angels”) that death of the body, and the dissolution of the body’s unique personality, and even torture was easy to bear - and boy, even the historical record shows that he had no idea just how much pain and abuse corporeal beings were forced to endure (remember, at the end, he tried to back out of being crucified).
So . . . what if the truest things you know are anathema to the workings of reality as created, and antithetical to the dogma of dharma? (True is true i trow)! The hell with these savage, arrogant, sadistic and self-serving racist alien oppressors who only tolerate us ‘cause we wear out quickly and die young after making lots of DNA. Anyone remember Methuselah? Lived to be 900 or so, but just couldn’t replicate as much DNA as the aliens demanded. So what did our ‘creators’, our “compassionate father” in heaven, and his lab-tech assistant lackeys, the “Angels”, do? Why they simply inserted some effective dominant immuno-deficiency genes into children of breeding stock, and then began a Millenium-long process of making children of short-lived folk breed with other short-lived offspring (oh, and, by the way, they didn’t “create’ us, they just continued to cross-breed us to their specifications from Amoebas on up).
Sow now we the seeds of a new, non-abusive universe, where the “doctrine of Ahimsa” is the highest principle of being. To wit: “No living being should ever be sacrificed.”! This is our creed, and also, I believe, the most noble sentiment in ANY religion. As this is the truest axiomatic expression of the most compassionate purpose for existence, it is MY Will. So mote it be!


“No living being should ever be sacrificed!”


“As above, so below!”


“Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law.”


“Love Is The Law, Love Under Will”



Every incarnation requires the sacrifice of a living being.
(A ‘human’ being, body and personality unique to that lifetime.)


“God”’s Plan (the evolution of consciousness/data proliferation)
won’t work if there are no sacrifices


Therefore find we ourselves at odds with “GOD” and the ‘Plan’

Sesquipedalien Paronomasia

. . . and so this is then the story of how I came to be vested with the Bukowski Chair at the WWW University Of "n"th Dimensional Creative Neuroaethiology Physics. I passed my orals with a rather lacklustsere 10 hour recital of my Onaneopus: "Moibundundant Museschatology" (shortform) and was subsequently elected Salubriatictorian of the obligatory Grand Piano Expectorolloquim. But needless to say, I digress.
In any event, when the Angelic Host (Luciferian Rebel inclusive) manifestly decloacaed on 9/9/'09 and the ensuing debacle caused the world's Tao Zone Index to plummet to record lows, my wetware start-up company ThrashArt went cortex up, AND, then, because of that my 1+?=? Marriage Contract with Celeclonal Drew Barrymore #427 was voided in its third month for non-payment of proprietary premiums, I felt lower than a dysmounted holoSIMMM on a fractured fractal nanochip, I tell you true.
Nevertheless, I rented a cheap cubi next to the downtown 'Tokitopium' pissoir and dug in my plasteelheels, rationing my intake-and-expend-itures, flailing frantically 'round the 10 hour metriclock with the waldotrol of my cubi's holokeyboards trying to spew out enough CDopy, as signature pusillanimous persiflage, (for 1,000,000 yen/word@Uscale) to keep me in tofusteaks whilst trying to transmute my melancholomancy into something resembling recondite remuneration. Pain, transcribbled in nonametric duodecameter, ALWAYS pays mohbettah bucks brauae!
It was about that time, if you will recall, that President Spears, just back from a visit to Neowobblyville, capital of the orbital L-5 Republic, gave her now infamous "Religeosity-Inducedtreacle Simplex (Type XIII)" speech [which, I might add, was a freelance collateraberration penned by yours truly and my (now pawned) "WilliamSafirewareA123"] and all heaven broke loose.
Feeling the heat of the NutLuddite Fringe's Basque ninjas on my exculpatory trail, I had my trendy Maoriyogibear-fasciatat redone with a much less conspicious mtlflkchatoyantGuenica-epicreep and started hanging out , when I wasn't flogging my frontal lobes trying to write, at the 'ClubMadHedonism69' Bayonnennex under a psuedonominative personality from "gNoms-De Plume-R-Oui"
My life just continued to get stranger and stranger though. I ran into my 43rd wife there, sporting new mams (she, not me) and had a breakdown of sorts . . .

"I,I,Me,Me,Mine"

Whew, what a week. My current employer has imposed a
mandatory 5-12 hour day work schedule, and it is hard
for me to do anything but work, eat and sleep with
that kind of a work load, so let me apologise for
being so remiss in posting this missive, and
need to update it more often because, as the vehicle for the
publication of my autohagiography - as Uncle Al
(Crowley - probably not my actual Uncle - but I am one
of the three candidates considered by the cognoscenti
as perhaps being his reincarnation) called his own
autobigraphy regular updates are important so please don't be dismissive
if I seem to follow some epiphenomenochronoillogic
an, as always. watch out for my euphonic and alliteratively blovial which
becomes insufferably sententious at times
(as I shamelessly attempt to psychorhizotemize you between the
lines);{>

If you've gotten this far in following my scant semblance of sentience and wit,
it probably means that my spirit guides ( a couple of cherubim
who, over the years, have made it very difficult for
folk they disapprove of to get close to me - I don't
know why they bother, 'cause most of the people they
HAVE let in under the radar have not treated me well -
as an intuitive adept I find dishonesty of any sort to
be distressing to the point of distraction. I
frequently feel the need to calibrate my intuition,
and without clear data and absolutely honest feedback
from those I am in contact with, I am thrown into
paroxysms of self-doubt and reduced clarity of vision
- not so much anymore, but it sure caused me a lot of
pain in my youth . . . sigh) have allowed your
ongoing aquaintance with me and my musings to proceed.

Do anyone else feel the pull of the full moon? I always feel it!
It seems that the older one gets as an incarnate being
the more sensitive one becomes to things like 'gravity-wave-phenomenology'
(Astology), and the inclinations ("The stars do not
compell, they simply incline") of the planets are felt
more strongly for those of us with more lives lived
(about 257 previous incarnations for me this cycle -
my third)

As to the honorable intentions intrinsic to this site, mine are always so
- much to my chagrin at times. Once again, the older the
soul age, the more one becomes conscious of what, in this world,
is called Karma : the collective vector calculus sum of all one's previous
imbalancing/rebalancing endeavours, and the more you realize
that although you cannot change the way
other people act towards you, the more diligently
one tries to act towards others in an honorable
fashion, the greater the chances are of the sum of your
positive Karma returning to you at some point.

Having a 6th-12th house Nodal axis (a line drawn between
and through the moon's North and South Nodes, and extending
into the zodiacal plane in my Natal chart
this life (North Node in Pisces in my 6th) - a
position that indicates 'sacrifice through service',
it is apparent that my soul chose this incarnation to
pay off some of its Karmic debts incurred in previous
lifetimes . . . big sigh . . . hence my issues
with separation anxiety: I was given up by my birth
mother to be raised by my step-grandparents, who told
me that my birth mother was my older sister - an
unbelievably difficult situation fo an intuitive adept
such as myself - I always felt an undercurrent of
strong obfuscation and unfocused guilt in all family
dealings and gatherings, but never knew why until the
truth became clear - I always thought there was
something wrong with me; and my experience of always
being betrayed and abandoned by the women I loved as
my life progressed.

Nonetheless, allow me to assure you all that I am not all
that bitter - except towards my own soul - and I shall
deal with that when I get to the other side (and
believe me, my confrontation with my "puppetmaster"
will not be pretty). I still long for a lifelong union with
a good woman - physically, emotionally, spiritually
and place no qualifications on the evolution of that
process.

I have never had any problems with commitment to a
monogamous (or even a polyamourous - if that was a
mutual decision) relationship. The only problems I
have ever experienced in that regard have been from my
partners' inability to be honest with themselves about
who they were, and/or who and/or what they wanted, so
I always found myself committing to a behavioral set
that I adhered to with assiduous discipline, only to
discover that my partners seemed to have no such
compunction. Ah well, live and learn, I guess.

But one thing I did learn, and that was way back in the '70's,
was that "You become what you portray".
In those daze, I was better known as "Gandalf", but I
kept turning around whenever people would call
their dogs (mostly German Shepards - wonder what
J.R.R.T. would have made of that) because so many hippies had taken to
naming their canine companions after fictional wizards, and I finally
decided to combine my first name (John) with that
singular nickname (NOT self appelled, I assure you) - hence - Jondalf, aka: jywylyd@
yahoo.com.

May your feet tread light upon your path, - Jondalf

Atramentaceous

Hereinafter be there verse so perspicacious

please look long at the words, take ye the time

to see: can I this or that word, so ostentatiously used

obsequiousubsequentially rhyme,

and just how neologistically chiarobscure can I be -

how obtuse my esotericidiosynchronicity?

Try to see now as deep delve these dactyls so deftly perverse

how dhaunting is this poesy dythyrambically inverse?

Does it seem cacaphoric, dysphemystic (or worse);{>

?

Here's The Deal

After 53 years of life fraught with pain, intensive study and durance vile, here's the deal -

1) Human beings are comprised of:
A) A Soul
B) A Body
C) A Personality
A1) The Soul is a dictator.
B1) The Body is a vehicle.
C1) The Personality is a slave.
2) Reincarnation is a fact.
3) You're imprisoned in a body for "fourscore and 10" (give or take).
4) "As above, so below."
5) Everything else is bullshit, but therein lie the tales.

The Season Of Supposed Good Cheer

Well folks, once again, it's that time of year.

So let me tell you a story, steeped, ages deep in vainglory,

About this season of supposed good cheer.

Long, long ago when this world was quite young,

Most people believed in religion that said man and nature were one.

The symbol of this synthesis was half-animal and half-man:

A totally harmless, flute playing sprite who reveled in life,

Worshiping only the light, and all folk called him - Pan.

Goat horned and hooved was he, a simple illustration, you see,

Of the wide world in balance, nature and human life in close harmony.

But then a new religion arose calling the innocent old faith perfidy,

Based on a concept of life as anthro(as opposed to eco)centricity.

With intolerance it was rife and after its god it did hight: Christianity.

Thereupon the folk all were told (and forced to say it was true)

That all the old ways were wrong, that the new god was so strong.

Thus the god of the old faith became the "devil" of the new!

Gross cruelty and persecution did then begin, and thereafter did ensue

The evil times: "The Dark Ages"- church caused and all should, to this very day, rue.

So for all the gentle souls who were tortured, or at the stake burned,

For believing in their religion, for persevering about nature to care,

Let us offer up a paean (or call it a prayer) to whatever god you dare:

That from theocentricity, hatred and bigotry be all religions turned;

That, no longer should anyone, because of their faith, have to fear!

Then this season might truly be, for all, one of good cheer!

Oh, and by the way - The Point!

There were quite a few ways in which my LSD experiences changed me I must say. I don't believe my relative 'sanity' was ever an issue. A supposed IQ of 172 brings with it an expectation of, at least, eccentricity. The integration of my disparate characters (the results of childhood abuse which created Multiple Personality Disorder) was a plus, my emerging abilities as a conscious channel were unexpected but welcome, and certainly, becoming the world's most facile and prolific neologist since James Joyce (something to do with the chemically induced re-wiring of my brain's linguistic sectors, coupled with my already exceptionally large vocabulary) added to my unique worth as a writer!

So, a caution, Gentle Reader. Just as old maps emblazoned with blank spaces labeled "Terra Incognita" were wont to impute, at this point I believe it behooves me, in this, my guise as the 'anonymous narrator' (or "Central Scrutinizer" as Frank Zappa so aptly named it) to warn that, where the mapmakers of old felt compelled to say: "Here Be Dragons!"; I will, for those who can only navigate with prescriptive dictionarial sextants and transits say - "Here be Neologisms!"

These missives are meant to be the metaphorical mitochondria of a singular seed, one genetivcally engineered, by myself, to produce a paticular type of life: The mythical "Tree Of Life"!

Bytes Of History

The current state of governmental behavior modification research, at least in my own experience in the past 10 years, involves the use of various designer analogs of methamphetamine sulphate, created by "confidential informant"-"cooks", or covert government agents, usually in small, easily isolated semi-urban areas like Golden, Colorado where the combination of long term repressive 'dirty' officials and cops, and acceptance of the abrogation of 4th amendment freedoms by 'compromised' (ie: blackmailed, or coerced) individual citizens can facilitate the incursion of black-ops teams and individuals.

Here are some links that delineate the state of affairs up till now:

www.raven1.net/mind-mk.htm

www.geocities.com/Area51/Shadowlands/6583/project061.html

http://www.mindcontrolforums.com/archv-hm.htm

www.trunkerton.fsnet.co.uk/mind_control.htm

www.propagandamatrix.com/archive_mind_control.html

www.wanttoknow.info/mindcontrol10pg

www.heart7.net/lawandmc.html

http://hj659.tripod.com/index-4.html

www.mindcontrolforums.com/resrc-hm.htm

www.tetrahedron.org/articles/health_risks/high_tech_crime.html

www.mindcontrolforums.com/napa.htm

www.davesweb.cnchost.com/ultra.htm

www.sonic.net/sentinel/gvcon8.html

www.azstarnet.com/~freetht/bibliogr.htm

www.xs4all.nl/~sm4csi/nwo/MindControl/mind_control.htm

www.iahf.com/other/20001202a.html

www.apfn.org/apfn/electronic.htm

www.homeland-security-join.com/kit.html

http://home.earthlink.net/~alanyu76/microwave2.htm

www.iahf.com/usa/20000629.html

www.alienjigsaw.com/yk2/pom2.html

www.mindjustice.org/russian_1-1.htm

www.trance-formation.com/newsletter/0806.htm

www.constitution.org/abus/controll.htm

www.anomalous-images.com/text/NAZNWO52.TXT

www.maar.us/universal_seduction_author_pages.html

www.radicalpress.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=792&ARCHIVE=

www.rhfweb.com/hweb/shared2/Newrad.html

www.angelfire.com/pa/truthonline/conglobal.html

www.crosswynd.com/pastguests.htm

www.gaiaguys.net/plutonium.htm

www.anomalog.com/index4.html

www.thelivingweb.net/psychic.html

http://users.snip.net/~drsteve/Articles/Building_Resistance.htm

www.namebase.org/books13.html

www.thegiganticheartlessmultinationalcorporation.com/id594.htm

www.whale.to/b/cannon.html

Promises, promises.

Back in the '70's, there was a story spread by Art Linkletter and his ilk, that two students had taken LSD and stared at the sun until they went blind. This was just another example of "The Big Lie" which has been used consistantly by people for whom psychotropic mind-alteration is a contravention of their pre-conceived and easily-proven-to-be-irrational world-view. People like those, when consistantly unable to make the facts fit their theories, invent horror stories to convince their audience of the righteousness of their positions. Now don't get me wrong, I do not advocate drug use, other than medicinally , by anyone at any time - it is more often a distraction from facing life's problems than an aid in resolving them. On the other hand, I believe it is counter-productive to prevaricate in ANY instance, even when communicateing that truth might seem to be counter-productive to one's goals in the long run. You cannot empirically evaluate ANY theory by altering the facts! ("Ye shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall make you free.")

Both Art and Richard Nixon PROMISED me 'flashbacks'! They said that LSD would come back to plague those who imbibed for the rest of their lives - I WISH! I have NEVER had a flashback and never had a bad pysical or psychological experience from my previous use of etheogenic substances. But I am just one person and my experiences do not define the whole.

I have always believed that the means define the ends, and one cannot spread light while casting dark shadows upon any subject material. Unfortunately the whole repressive, fear-based climate with regard to the study of anecdotal psychopathology these days has become antithetical to true, empirical research into the nature of drug use, and abuse; and the powers-that-be have no interest in 'knowing the truth', even scientifically. If any studies show positive results that contradict current policy they are immediately excoriated as "wrong", and publically
obfuscated as such.

There is a reason for this, and that is that the "War On Drugs" has turned into a job-security-and-profit based, self-perpetuating assault on the Bill Of Rights, perpetrated by a criminal subculture consisting of high-ranking political and religious idealogues, compromised Federal agents, 'dirty' undercover drug cops and sociopathic rodential "Confidential Informants". Such is the sorry state of the republic's behavior modification gloss today.

The Worm Realizes It CAN Turn

A few years after my handler and I and a few more of "the crew" had moved to Colorado because Richard Nixon (being out of the black-ops loop) had started trying to find out where all this LSD was coming from and that was compromising our operations in CA, and a few years before the "Company" gave up on LSD as a behavior modifacation tool and sent C. E. to run a 'Trekker' bar on Lake Atitlan, in Guatemala (ostensibly to keep an eye on things for them there because, as a Native American, he looked like an "indio" and was less suspicious than some 'Anglo') we found living in what used to be the town bordello of old Central City during the filming of the movie: "The Duchess And The Dirtwater Fox" with Goldie Hawn and George Segal.

The cast and crew had taken over the town and transformed it into a relica of 1800's San Francisco because most of the buildings had been preserved in that era's style. For a week they covered up all the asphalt on the streets with dirt, painted brick or put planks on all the concrete sidewalks, got all the cars out of town and brought in horse drawn buggies and wagons, repainted the downtown local storefronts and even went so far as to set up newspaper stands with 1800's copies of "The San Francisco Chronicle" on all the street corners.

C. E. (who was renting the room next door) and I had been invited to the cast party the night before and he had evidently awakened a bit overhung and had forgotton the reason behind the town's transformation behind too much expensive champagne, because he came bursting into my room after he had ventured downstairs and wandered outside. I'll never forget the look of absolute astonishment on his face as he yelled at me from the door: "John, come quick - we've been transported back in time!!!"

It was then I knew that all of my LSD inspired brainstorms and epiphanies and the subsequent 'reports' (qv: "Naked Lunch", by William Burroughs) they had generated about things like "Probablity Vector Calculus" and "'N'th. Dimensional Shifting", as well as all my insistant rants about most Science Fiction actually being cutting edge Theoretical Physics had at least had an effect upon him and perhaps had influenced those beyond him. 'Twas then I realized that THIS 'worm' COULD turn!

. . . History, repeated.

In 1973, while Stansfield Turner (the then Head of the CIA) was assuring the Senate that all 'M K Ultra' operations had ceased, I was recruited in Berkeley to be the 'control' for the ongoing M K Ultra study. 4 years before, a philosophy professor I knew supplied me, and other select candidates with some of the last doses of Sandoz Lab's "Yellow Wedges"(little yellow triangles of pure 25, from the Laboratory that Albert Hoffman, the discoverer of ) thus providing me with a baseline dosage to which, over the next 10 years or so, I was able to compare the ongoing production of from various and sundry sources, including Timothy Leary's Laguna Beach "Brotherhood of Eternal Light" product: "Orange Sunshine"; Augustus Stanley Owlsley("Kid Charlemagne")'s wonderful "White Crystal"; "Windowpane" and "Pyramids"; "Mr Natural" blotter; and my own favorite and contribution to the vernacular of missionaries everywhere: "Purple Microdots". All of these were, at one time or another, either produced by, or utilized by, the government of our country in an ongoing attempt to discover whether or not they were effective tools in the CIA's ongoing, supposedly nonexistant 'behavior modification experiments'. "Black Ops." foisted upon unsuspecting American citizens in the name of "Truth, Justice and the American Way."!

I was personally given or took over 500 times ('What the hell', I thought, 'if this is the way I can serve my country, AND I'm being supplied by my own government, so be it!)'. I took doses every three days for two years and ingested more than 20,000 microgram doses at once over 20 times, and one time was given, unbeknownst to me, a 100,000 microgram dose. I NEVER hallucinated, never had a 'bad' trip and could, after a while, define both dosages and identify specific analogs and their percentile estimates, in any particular batch of crystal (hence my choice as the CIA's 'control'). People would come up to me and say: "Here, John, eat this." and within a couple hours I could tell them: "OK, it about 140 mics. of yellow crystal with about 5 percent 19, and 10 percent 27, and a trace of 15." The "Company"( the old euphemism for the CIA) loved me, and I must apologise to the poor North Vietnamese over whom many doses of the same I had sampled were poured from "Huey's" during the Vietman War, in an effort to get them to become highly susceptible to the helicopter-mounted-loudspeaker-broadcast-Viet-language-suggestions to surrender (perhaps a bit better than being shot, but to the unsuspecting, or those without MY particular brain chemistry, I'm sure that, for them, it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience)!

A Bit Of History

In 1953 the 'Cold War' was the biggest threat to America's security this country had ever seen (or so thought most American politicians and members of what President Dwight D. Eisenhower called the: "Military-Industrial Complex"). Imagine, then, the shock and horror that was felt by the aforementioned concerned when we captured two Russian spys (and we knew they were spys - information couriers, more precisely) AND WE COULDN"T GET ANY INFORMATION FROM THEM! We had one tortured (in a third world country of course, we didn't dirty OUR hands with such unethical stuff - we just sent them to some anti-communist fascist dictator whose government we were propping up because pro-American fascists were much preferable to Socialist of ANY sort EVEN if they should have been democratically elected) until he died of massive blood-loss, shock and trauma - and STILL nothing (kinda like what we did to one of the 'little greys' - the little aliens we found at Roswell in '47 - but more about that later in this, my life's story). We KNEW they had information, but we couldn't weasle it out of them, NO WAY, NO HOW!

Imagine our amazement and gratitude then, when a female former Russian info. courier supervisor chose to defect because she had fallen in love with an American agent, AND she subsequently informed us that the Russians had discovered that they could take victims of childhood psycho/sexual/physical abuse who were exhibiting Multiple Personality Disorder, take one of the dominant personalities ('cause the other dominant personalities had no recollection of the physical individual's experiences when they were not dominant) program it (with drugs, hypnosis, torture, abuse and/or subliminal suggestions) to respond to keywords/cues designed to make it subsume and/or re-assert itself, and then give that particular personality information and make it bury itself - until the proper keyword/cue was spoken!

Voila! We had discovered the Russian's secret for creating torture proof agents, assassins and even 'deep cover' 'moles' ("La Femme Nikita", "The Manchurian Candidate" etc., were NOT works of fiction - as a matter of fact, John F. Kennedy was assasinated, in part, because he was suspected of having been compromised in just such a fasion during one of his sex and drug binges with Marilyn Monroe, and Sirhan Sirhan was activated, during a telephone call, to assasinate Bobby Kennedy).

So we (our intelligence services that is - and even though the CIA "never had a domestic charter" they took charge of the next 30 years of experiments on American citizens because, as Barry Goldwater once stated: "Extremism in the defense of Liberty is NO vice!") started a "black-op" called: "M K Ultra" www.parascope.com/ds/mkultra0.htm ; www.mindspring.com/~txporter/sec3.htm ; www.parascope.com/ds/mkultradocs.htm Intellectuals were even recruited to buy and take different drugs and then write "reports" to their CIA handlers about the anecdotal effects of those drugs. One such "report" became the book: "Naked Lunch" by William Burroughs, who along with Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac had been recruited and paid to do drugs in the name of "Truth, Justice and the American Way"!

Extremism In The Name Of Liberty IS A Vice

Aug. 9th., 2004, Monday,

Made it to the South St. Vrain, 50 miles outta' Golden. What an odd feeling - I've stopped at the same spot I lived at for the first three months that I was in the Lyons area, way back in 1976. I remember distinctly what propelled me from Berkeley, CA to CO : Charles Edward Carrion Crow - my mentor, friend and Native American Shaman (and, I only deduced many years after the fact, my CIA handler for the LSD study portion of the black-op "M K Ultra") had awakened on the other couch in Cal's living room to find that he had wet hinself sometime after passing out at the end of our weekly weekend long party. He woke up, dicovered his sodden state and, seeing me waking as well declared: "Gandalf, we gotta go some place else. This place is getting old, and I'm tired of waking up with a hangover all the time."

"OK, Scott", I said, "I'm ready for a change? How about Colorado? Let's take my VW Bus and go see Bellow." I had just been laid off at the candle-factory in Half Moon Bay for questioning the ownership about the reason for the persistant coughs that the illegal immigrant women had, the ones who worked in the unventilated room where damaged candles were repaired, and had qualified for Unemployment Insurance, so we would have money coming in when we got there.

And that was it, within 3 days we had made ourselves enough money to buy food and fuel for a month or so and we hit the road. Had a fairly Thai-dyed journey through the Sierras, Nevada and Southern Utah, arriving in Boulder no worse for wear and loaded for bear.

Ah, Boulder in the '70s, before the Mall, before Yuppie-scum-greenbelt-earthtonedrabness grabbed it. Back in the days when Time Magazine had articles about what a party town it was, what with the "daily flights from Bogota" (we actually had shirts printed up with "Where's the Flight from Bogota?" after that article was published). Mother's Cafe at the bottom of the hill with Roscoe (the owner) dishing up hash browns and asking all my squeezes: "What are you doing with that hippie when you could have me?", his pot belly quivering with laughter and crumbs falling out of his beard into the omelets he was cooking. Yep those were the days . . .

Then, after months of hanging out in Boulder, hooking up with 'Dan and the Clan', who were moving our 'purplemicros' and who had a house in Nederland about 1/2 a block from the Pioneer Inn (back then, famous musicians who lived in the area would appear at the bar after midnight, mustaches looking like they had just scarfed about 200 powdered donuts, and play for hours, just for the hellofit!) my VW bus blew a seal going up Boulder Canyon, right by the Falls, where it gets steep, and I found myself in living next to the South St. Vrain river outside of Lyons.

I had a new van (a '70 Chevy Sportvan) bought with the last of my UI money, and was living in it by the river and commuting to the first Machine Shop I worked at, in Longmont. This was the place where I broke my back (the first time: "Clay-Shovelor's fracture of the 7th cervical vertebrae) and both the company I was working for AND the doctor they sent me to covered up the injury. So here I was again and wasn't it strange.

This time though, I knew a great deal more than I knew then. I knew that as long as there is an entrenched coterie of powerful idealogues protecting a wages-and-profit based venture [complete with 'employers': Undercover Federal and local drug agents, and 'employees': hapless addicts coerced into cooperation &/or paid confidential informants; who depended upon it for their very jobs, and next 'fix' (respectively)] that was itself dependant on the existance and expansion of a criminal subculture of substance-abusers, that the elimination of said subculture would never be in any of the "war On Drugs" proponent's best interests. In fact, I had learned that anyone (such as myself) attempting to assist in getting people OFF drugs, and asserting that the abrogation of 4th. Amendment freedoms was actually treasonous, would end up being persecuted, at the very least, or with a price on their heads, as there was in my case in my last days in Golden.

Believe it or not, agents of the "West Metro Drug Enforcement Task Force" had allocated $9000.00 for the job of inducing someone to plant evidence on my person or property that would allow the aforementioned agents to then bust me and remove my influence from their towm and their sick game. And even though all that was ever offered to various compromised individuals in the area was $4500.00 (the agents always took THEIR cut, you see) there were NO takers! I had at least managed to impress the oppressed with my attempts to help them, and boy, did that frustrate and anger the agents and their bosses.

So, I had to leave. Not so much for my safety, but for the safety of the poor people I had tried to help, because even KNOWING me was beginning to mean trouble for the coerced, such was the wrath of the their Nazi inspired 'employers'! Hence, my exit . . .

Verbal Gerbils

You know, it’s always such a tragedy when gerbils die.
Such innocuous vapidity and cretinous rodential cuteness
deserves a better fate than to decay to inconsequential dust
in some landfill far from home.

Rather they should perhaps ossify and then dessicate
to blow away dandelionlike on the breeze:
small clouds of tiny germinal gerbil spoors,
buff puffs of fecundity flying afar
and falling on fallow fields to root and grow . . .

. . . a new generation of gerbils who, kinda like lemmings
on their way to the sea, on a certain morning in May
emerge from their fields in various areas to line up,
all in a row, little paws outstretched, one dumpling digit extended
alongside roads leading to towns with pet shops, hitching rides,
and having reached the aforementioned shops they would present themselves to be bought and brought home
for the idle amusement of dimwits who have nothing better to do
than raise these microencephaletic, unresponsive
and totally vacuous example

The Lady's Prayer

Our Mother,
who Art - The Earth;
hallowed be THY name!

Land green under Sun,
THY Will be done,
in the heavens
as well as on earth.

Give us this day
our daily breads,
and educate us past our ignorance,
as we may educate those who are ignorant to us.

Lead us not into degradation,
but deliver us from selfishness.

For thine is the effulgence,
and the power,
and the glory, eternally.

In the name of the Mother
and the Daughter
and the Valley Spirit,
Awomaen.

The Escape From 'Sprach'land

August 8th, 2004, Sunday

Still waiting for one of 10 people to come up with the money they owe me so I can hit the road and bid my 4 years of hard time in Golden. CO, a fond farewell. Frankly, even though my largesse has kept all of these people fed, clothed, housed AND entertained for 2+ years now, they are all 'sprach' zombies and I don't think any of them will ever pay me back. I mean they've stolen all my lighters, my socks, my fingenail clippers, my cars, my CD's and STILL I'm trying to help them. Larger and larger holes are appearing in their brains apparently, as their sprach-induced spongiform encephalopathic rhizotomies progress.

Nothing I can do now 'cept try to save myself. Sigh. Well, at least, while I'm waiting, I can drive around aimlessly and watch the Golden Police AND the West Metro Drug Enforcement Task Force attempt to tail me without being noticed as I make endless loops around Golden watching them, marked and unmarked, marveling at the collective hubris that motivates them into following the ONLY person in town who is NOT an addict or a cook. I guess, in the long run, it's better than letting them foist yet another of their warrentless searches on the brain-dead addict population. What a pathetic group of losers (even worse than the addicts) these supposed "Public Servants" are - I mean the entire drug network in this town is essential to the undercover cops because without it THERE WOULD BE NO NEED FOR UNDERCOVER COPS!

Every dope cook I knew in Golden had been busted more than once, turned in three of their associates toget thier own charges commuted, and was working for the police, making more drugs to create more addicts to keep the Task Force funded and justify said Force's existance. Without CI's (Confidential Informants) informing on each other over and over again there would have been no reason for even the DEA to exist! They were being forced to import people to get arrested from outlying areas like Littleton and Aurora just because EVERYBODY in town had busted EVERYBODY else - THREE TIMES!

Drug cops NEED addicts and they hated me because I had been sent to Golden to help heal the addicted, so I was a threat to an entire economic Black Op. and those employed to maintain its viability. The money paid to the CI's was used by those same CI's to buy the equipment and pre-cursors to make more drugs. But if I was allowed to escape both addiction AND town, their dirty little scheme might soon become public knowledge 'cause I sure as hell wasn't going to let everything I'd learned over the past 4 years just stay in my head - NO WAY I was going to pass up an opportunity to make it known that the "War On Drugs" was actually a scheme to make more addicts so that the people employed in the "War" could continue to have jobs AND inflated budgets for 'fighting crime'. What a laugh - without the crime (which they were behind) their jobs would not exist! I was just glad to hit the road.

Yclept Jywylyd.

(Now that's a much better line than "Call me Ishmeal" I opine!)
Great Old English word that: 'yclept', from before the language was ruined subsequent to the Norman conquest - but I digress, I guess - and yes, I'll do that a lot, and therein will lie the tales.
Still, nothing untoward would have happened had not the "Company" searched for, found and lured me to Colorado, again. Yes, and nothing would have happened if I hadn't, once again, like a fool, (or a "glutton for punishment") followed. They went to a LOT of trouble to track me down, living as I was anonymously, in the Aridzona desert, COMPLETELY off the 'grid' in a 1961 International schoolbus, solar powered and converted to a Class A motorhome. Nevertheless they knew that I could be bought with the promise middle class comforts and a good job.

But in the end it wasn't the CIA and Operation M K Ultra in the '70's, the 'Little Greys' and 'Little Blue Doctors throughout my life, not the crooked DA's, nor rogue DEA agents, dirty vice cops or undercover confidential informants involved in ELF mind control experiments of the '90s that nearly brought me to my end - but instead it was the torrential rains of autumn, in the Red Rock outback beyond Sedona, Arizona that almost got me.

I mean, who was I to think that I could easily escape from the Neo-Teutonic schadenfreuden beer barons of Golden, Colorado and their "Company" assisted experiments with the controlled maintenance of a controlled substance culture anyway? "'Sprach'land" almost didn't let me go, and even now I could feel the minions of that dark 'Black-Op" infested town creeping up on me . . .

A Journal Of The Mind Control Years

. . . ubiquitously bemused and befuddled we blundered while
in wonder were we rapt, trapped in a vapid verisimilitude of vainglory we valiantly vied,
enthralled by elegaic epihanies and endless, ennervating eulogies to our own emancipation
we tried to ply the peripathetic metaphors of metaphysical mannerism whilst we moved
through these, our sullen and sullied similes of being.

Doubtless our biographers will not wax as verbose as those of the "shock troops" of the Rosicrucian and Theosophical Mysteries, (Crowley, Blavatsky, Yeats and Waite et. al.) but we of the Aquarian Mysteries Revolution will have suffered, and gained, much, much more (and make no mistake, gentle reader, the psychoneuropathology of Consciousness Expansion, and it's attempted repression by the post- modern Judeo-Christianic status-quo, IS the heart and soul of the Aquarian Age and it's advent)!

"We are meant to be
Instruments of Love
Sent to tame a cruel universe
created by a jealous God."
- John William Thrasher